Page 73 of Out of Bounds

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to figure out what to do next. She needed to talk to Gunnar. Let him know what happened and see if he had any idea where she would go. Maybe he could call her and calm her down. The three of them could meet and talk it all out. Yes, that was it. They just needed to sit down and have a conversation. That would solve everything.

“Well, well, well,” came a voice from behind her. Felicity whipped around to see Jonah saunter up the steps, a devious smirk on his face. He looked between her and Dalton, before finally stopping right in front of her, his smirk growing even wider. “The things you hear in the men’s room.”

“What the fuck are you going on about, Jonah?” Dalton asked, completely unamused by the scene.

“Oh, nothing. Just that Flick here apparently decided to screw her way to the top.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Felicity’s gut clenched as she watched the smug look settle in on Jonah’s face. There were a lot of scenarios that she could think up that would fall under the “worst nightmare” category. However, being accused of sleeping her way to success was probably the worst of the worst. And happening at her father’s funeral—and the accusation coming from Jonah—only cut that much deeper.

Everything around her came to a halt as she tried to figure out exactly what his motivation was here. What exactly did he know? What had he heard? She and Talia hadn’t been whispering, but had they really been loud enough to have been heard through the walls?

“You do realize that we are at our father’s—your brother-in-law's—funeral, yes?” Dalton asked Jonah, his face turning stony. He walked over to where they were standing, partially inserting himself between her and his former best friend. “I would think even you would have a little more respect than to try and get catty over office politics here.”

“I’m not getting catty, as you put it. I’m just stating facts. Aren’t I, Flick?” Jonah lobbed back, glaring at her around Dalton.

“Don’t call me that,” she growled. Clenching her fist, she tried to channel the nerves that were taking over her senses. This wasn’t really happening, was it? Jonah couldn’t really know anything. Just because he overheard a few things through a bathroom wall didn’t mean he knew about what was going on between her and Gunnar. And even if he had somehow pieced it together, he most certainly wouldn’t out them here. Right? No, he would save this information and try to blackmail her—that was the kind of weasel he was.

"Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather me call you his pet name for you? What is it…Effie?”

Ice filled Felicity’s veins, her heart starting to race. How would Jonah even know that? That hadn’t been part of her and Talia’s conversation. Her stomach lurched again, and she swallowed hard to keep herself from reacting to him. That’s all he wanted, was for her to get worked up and cause a scene, but she wasn’t going to do it. If she just remained calm, this whole thing would blow over. Her secret would be safe.

“Whose pet name?” Dalton asked, turning to face her. He gave her a quizzical look, as if somehow just by staring at her he would be able to figure out what was going on. She wondered if he could hear how loud her heart was beating as he watched her—if her racing pulse would be what gave her away. “What is he talking about?”

“Nothing,” she answered, maybe a little too quickly. So much for making it look like she had nothing to hide.

“I don’t know that we can classify fucking the head coach of the team you’re campaigning to run as ‘nothing.’”

Felicity watched as Dalton’s face morphed from confusion to anger before finally settling on disbelief.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…this isn’t happening. He didn’t really just say that. It was bad enough Talia found out, but now Tripp? Oh fuck, Talia…I need to find Talia…

“What’s going on,” Gunnar’s voice asked from behind her, pulling her from her rapid-fire thoughts. Her body stiffened even more at his gruff tone, and she could see Dalton’s jaw starting to clench. Deep inside of her there was a war brewing, part of her wanting to run, part of her wanting to fight, and a third wanting to break down into tears. She had to fight the urge to turn to Gunnar, to let herself fall into his strong arms that she knew would make everything feel okay.

“Flick…” her brother said, his eyes widening as his voice trailed off. Felicity's heart sped up even more, racing as if it were a horse at Churchill Downs. “Please tell me this isn’t true.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. What did she say to that? She didn’t want to lie, not to Tripp. They were the only family they had left, and she couldn’t bring herself to be dishonest with him. But she knew she couldn’t admit to her relationship with Gunnar either. It would put them both in a really bad spot, and she couldn’t do that to him. This job meant too much to him.

“What’s not true?”

“Tell me it’s not true, Felicity,” Dalton repeated.

“What I do in my spare time is not anyone’s business,” she replied. Tears started to rise in her throat, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before they started to sting her eyes. The ache in her heart radiated through her, just waiting for everything to start crashing down around her. She should have known that it was too perfect to be real.

“It is if it’s a member of our staff! Especially the staff of the arm of the company you’re about to take over.” Dalton's voice was calm, but she could hear the strain in it. His eyes were cold—she knew that look. It was the same one their father had given her regularly. It was the unmistakable look of disappointment.

“I missed something,” Gunnar commented, suddenly at her side.

“We were just discussing your and Flick’s extracurriculars,” Jonah chimed in. “Tell me, did she offer to fuck you in exchange for supporting her becoming president of the Rising? Or was it the other way around?”

“Excuse you?” Gunnar growled, taking a large step toward Jonah, but Felicity threw out her arm to stop him. As much as she wanted to see him punt Jonah into the middle of next week, that wasn’t going to fix anything right now.

“Felicity, I think we need to talk," Dalton demanded.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she answered, trying to sound as steady as possible, despite the waver in her voice. A lump formed in her throat, all her emotions threatening to spill out. She wanted to scream and cry, to walk right over to Jonah and smack that smug smile off his face. She wanted to run and hide, some place no one would ever find her. “I need to go find Talia.”

“The look on Gunnar’s face tells me otherwise. The fact that Talia ran out of here essentially telling you to fuck off does too. Not to mention that Jonah just accused you of offering sexual favors in the workplace!”