Page 160 of Game Misconduct
Peter sighs long and hard. “Please tell me I did not just hear that.” He pauses. “Why and when did you tell her this?”
I suppose telling him I decided after I’d been between her thighs is not a good idea.
“It’s been a few weeks, and I figured she needed to know.”
“Hold on a minute. Are you and Carrington…?”
“No, Peter.”
But once again, I say it too quickly. And Peter’s not stupid.
He doesn’t respond right away, and he doesn’t press, but I can hear the gears turning. “Look, I’m not saying it was her. But this didn’t come from nowhere. And she’s got enemies on that board who’d love to leak something toxic.”
My jaw flexes until it aches. “If she told anyone?—”
“If she did, she just put a target on your back and her own.”
I hang up without saying goodbye.
My blood’s buzzing like it did the night of the fight. Theweight in my chest, that sharp push of betrayal—God, it feels the same.
Like a scar cracking open from the inside.
I try to breathe. Try to tell myself this isn’t what it looks like.
But every time I give someone the benefit of the doubt, I end up burned.
And this time?
I fucking told her everything.
By the time I pull into the Venom District garage, I’ve run through every version of this that doesn’t end with her name on the tip of someone’s tongue.
None of them hold.
Security clocks me at the private elevator, but no one stops me. They know my face now. Or maybe I just look pissed enough to make way.
The upstairs lights are low except for the corridor leading to her office. I hear muffled voices from a conference room—PR, maybe Legal—trying to get ahead of the wildfire.
But her door’s closed. No assistant. No cameras. Just silence and the click of my boots across the tile.
I knock once, sharp.
No answer.
I open the door anyway.
Sloane stands near her window, back straight, arms crossed over her chest like armor.
The room smells like printer toner and espresso. Her desk is a war zone—printouts, marked-up press releases, two phones side-by-side. One of them buzzes, unanswered. A hardcopy of the blind item lies open on her keyboard, my name circled in red ink.
She doesn’t flinch when I enter. Doesn’t even turn.
“You leaked it?” My voice comes out lower than I mean it to. Rougher.
Still, she doesn’t move. “Don’t come in here barking accusations.”
“Too late for that.” I shut the door behind me, the click like a gun firing off.
