Page 85 of The Player's Club

I felt those words like a blow. My chin started quivering, to my humiliation. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.

“I told you from the very beginning that I needed to be able to trust you, and vice versa. But you lied to me from the start. How do I know anything you’ve said is the truth? Why would I be different from any other person you’ve gotten dirt on?”

“You are different!” I grabbed his arm, but he just stepped away from me. “I’ve never cared about any of the people I’ve written about. I’ve never become friends with them, or had sex with them, or fallen in—”

I stopped myself. Mac stilled. The moment and silence lengthened until the tension was painful.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his tone harsh. “Don’t fucking tell me shit like that when I can’t know if you mean it.”

Now, I was crying in earnest. “I’m sorry.” That was all I could say, over and over again.

“BDSM is about trust. I told you that. Even my fucked-up relationship with Caroline was based on trust. I told you things in confidence that I never would’ve told a goddamn reporter—”

He started pacing again. I could only sit back down on the edge of the bed and try to stem the flow of tears. I sniffled and sobbed, hating myself for seeming weak, while also wishing I could make Mac believe me.

“I didn’t tell my boss anything. I promise you. You have to believe me,” I said.

“Why should I?” Mac’s voice rose. “Why should I believe you? You’ve lied to me from the start! I don’t fucking know who you are.”

“You do know me. I’m no different from when we first met. I just didn’t know how to tell you what my job was.” I wiped away the tears, but they kept coming relentlessly.

“I thought I had feelings for you,” he was saying, almost to himself. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

I stood, lifted my chin, and forced myself to stop crying. “What do you want me to do? Name it.”

He stared at me, but his gaze went straight through me like an arrow. It was like the Elodie of just an hour ago no longer existed in his eyes.

“You can get out of my house,” he said finally.

I swallowed, a huge lump in my throat. I knew I wasn’t going to convince him. Not when he was too hurt to hear what I wanted to say.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorrier than you can ever know,” I said.

He gave me a sad but almost wry look. “I know. That almost makes it worse.”

ELODIE

A few days passed. I hadn’t heard from Mac since I’d left his house. Roy also hadn’t called me again, which could be a good or a bad thing. The morning I decided to go into the office, I took a hot shower but only ended up crying again.

I’d been crying off and on since Mac had told me to leave. I’d decided to give him space, but it’d been difficult not to contact him to see how he was doing.

Was he still angry? Would he hate me forever now?

The guilt was going to eat me alive. What was worse was that I deserved to feel like this. I’d lied to Mac. I could’ve had the courage to be honest, but I’d avoided it. I’d just naively hoped that it would all work out in the end. Now Mac hated me, my boss was pissed at me, and I was probably close to getting fired.

I forced myself to get dressed and go into the office. As I drove onto the freeway, I got another phone call, this time from my coworker Darren.

“Roy assigned me to follow that hockey guy,” Darren was saying. “The one you were seen with.”

My blood ran cold. “Roy assigned you to Mac?”

“Roy is sure that there’s a story there. He also gave me the address you gave him. I’m staking it out. It’s this ugly office building. Is this really the place you saw Mac go in? Because there doesn’t seem anything interesting to me here.”

“It’s a dead end,” I lied, wincing internally. “I already looked into it.”

Darren was silent. “You sure about that?” He sounded skeptical.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s one of the reasons I told Roy there was no story there. I don’t know why he would’ve assigned you to Mac.”