Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “I can’t get into his personal email.”
“That would be where the evidence is, right? But who would be stupid enough to send confidential company information on a company email? The IT department could easily find it at Nicholas’ request,” my sister says.
“So, how do I figure it out?” I glance up and my sister has the biggest grin plastered on her face. “What?” I ask her, because her head is already nodding like she’s working up a master plan in that big brain of hers.
“Pulse. You have to get him to tell you. You have to get him to spill the tea.”
I scoff. “He’d never.”
February sits down next to me and grabs my hand. “No, that’s just it. He’s dying to tell somebody. He’s the cocky type, right?”
I nod.
“See. Those cocky men want to brag about how they conquered the world. I bet you wouldn't even have to get him that drunk.”
“Drunk?”
She stands, heading toward her closet. “I brought a slinky dress. It’s perfect.”
“Wait, what are you thinking? He’d never tell me anything.”
She stops rummaging through her clothes to stare at me. “He would if he thought you were coming to work for him.”
I can’t believe I’m about to agree that her plan makes sense. Before I can answer a text buzzes onto my phone.
I grab it, glancing at who it’s from. “It’s from Nicholas.”
“What does it say?”
I read aloud, “Left the resort. Room’s all yours. You can clean out your desk after the holiday. Merry Christmas.” I keep rereading the message, looking for any hidden clues within the words. Any little infliction of a secret meaning, but there’s nothing there. Just a message letting me know it’s over.
Done.
Finnito.
My nose stings, and I can’t swallow past the lump in my throat. I keep staring at the phone, reading his message over and over until the words turn fuzzy from unshed tears.
“This will do,” Feb says, pulling a silver dress out of the closet. “Now, call Pulse and get him to meet you in the bar.”
I hold up my phone. “Shouldn’t I reply back to Nicholas?” I wouldn’t even know what to say, but my heart tells me I need to say something back to him.
“Not until you have something concrete to tell him.” She points at my phone. “Now, text Pulse.”
I pull up Garrett Pulse’s contact info and send a quick text asking him to meet me in the resort bar before I can chicken out.
“Done.”
I feel like I’ve just sold my soul to the devil.
My sister was right. The minute I met Garrett Pulse down in the resort bar, he couldn’t wait to spill his secrets. No matter how naughty they are.
He confirmed my suspicion that it was Ron Dawson who helped deliver the blow to Nicholas’ campaign. And to drive the final nail into Brighting Gaming, Pulse told me that he planned on naming his newest game SpectarCloud. The same name as the game Nicholas has been developing for years.
Sure the games won’t be identical, but this is enough to ruin Nicholas.
I nod along as Pulse continues on and on about his diabolical plan to ruin Nicholas, all the while acid churns in my belly. The thought that I had ever planned on working for this asshole makes me sick.
But I play the part, telling Garrett everything he wants to hear, at just the right times. He doesn’t suspect that I’ve downloaded an app to record this whole conversation.
This arrogant man who has a need to win all the time is telling me everything, and I play along.
As soon as I leave the bar, I head back to my own room. The room I once shared with Nicholas. A part of me is dying to play back the recording of Pulse spilling his secrets, but another part of me can’t get over the fact that he slept with me to win.
Pulse and him are more alike than I thought.
Pulse couldn’t wait to tell me how he won. To brag about his victory. Would Nicholas have done the same thing?
If he really didn’t care about me, he would have told me how he used me to beat Pulse, right? My head is so confused, and as I open the door to the suite we shared, my knees nearly buckle.
He’s gone.
Everything. Even his manly scent has left the room.
I glance at the bed, and tears fill my eyes.
The Frost Family Cup sits on the made bed.
I pick it up, giving a small laugh at the memory of how proud Nicholas was when he won this.
How proud I was to call him mine to my family.
Chapter 14
January
* * *
The past few days have passed in a blur of holiday cliches. My sister returned to New York with me, and we spent the past few days doing all things Christmas. I’m surprised we didn’t go caroling down Broadway.