Page 84 of The Player's Club

“Roy, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.” I scrambled to find an explanation, but my sleepy brain was struggling. For some stupid reason, I’d never thought Roy would care who I saw outside of work.

You’re an idiot, I thought to myself.

“Told me what, exactly? You told me there was nothing on this guy, but now you’re seeing him? Or are you just getting information from him? Tell me, Andrews.”

“There’s nothing to tell. There was no story, but Mac and I have become . . . friends.”

I could hear Roy huffing and puffing. “Friends,” he deadpanned. “Huh.”

“Yes. Friends. That’s all there is to it.” I blushed. “Hey, I’ll see you later, okay? And we can talk.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” Then he hung up on me.

I sighed, feeling a headache beginning to form between my temples. How had this situation turned into a hot mess? And was I going to lose my job over it? Roy can’t fire you because you’re dating a celebrity, I reasoned. But that didn’t mean Roy wouldn’t fire me when he discovered there were plenty of stories to be written about Mac . . .

I went back upstairs, but I stopped when I heard Mac speaking to someone. I felt the floor melt under me when I heard Mac say, “She’s a reporter? You’re sure about that?”

I went into the bedroom, a frozen smile on my face, and hoped that Mac wasn’t talking about me. But when he met my gaze, I knew the jig was up. Mac was stone-faced. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” He put his phone down, and we stared at each other.

I didn’t know what to say. The room was swaying. Did I lie? Did I tell him everything? My heart pounded so hard I felt a little faint.

“That was my lawyer,” Mac said slowly. He kept staring at me, like he was trying to see all my secrets. “Is it true? Are you a reporter?”

I sat down on the bed, feeling like I was going to piss my pants. “It’s true. But I can explain.”

That made Mac laugh darkly. “You can’t be fucking serious. Elodie—are you telling me the truth? You’re a fucking reporter?”

When I tried to touch him, it was like I’d triggered an explosion. He got out of bed and started pacing, energy coursing through him now. He looked wild-eyed. If I didn’t know him as well as I did, I might’ve been afraid of him at that moment.

“I am, but everything between us has been real, I swear it,” I began.

Mac held up a hand. “Start from the beginning.”

I told him everything: being assigned to dig up dirt about him and his supposed affair with a married woman, discovering he was using a decoy, following him to The Scarlet Rope, and everything after that.

Mac stared at me in silence, his arms folded across his chest, his brow furrowed. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking as I unloaded onto him.

“So you did know who I was when we first met?” he accused.

I blushed. “I did. I’m sorry.”

“And then when I told you about my interests, how I wanted you to sign a contract with me, was that just for a story?”

I nearly catapulted myself off the bed now. “No! No. I haven’t told my boss anything. Once we started to get involved, I told him that there was no story. Look me up. I haven’t published anything about you.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“I signed multiple NDAs, Mac. Why would I do that if I meant to break them?”

“People break NDAs all the time.” Mac raked his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands. “And given who you work for, I’d bet they have great lawyers if push comes to shove.”

“You have a lawyer, too.”

“Because I need to protect myself. Your company is only interested in profiting off others’ personal information. It’s different.”

I chewed on my lower lip, tasting blood. “What can I do to prove I’m not doing this for a story?”

“You can’t.”