Chapter 5 The Game Ends, But Love Persists

## Chapter 5: The Game Ends, But Love Persists

The scandal dissolved as quickly as it had formed. With our evidence, Brandon and Vanessa were forced to issue public retractions. Our companies apologized, investigations were closed, and by Friday afternoon, life had ostensibly returned to normal.

Except nothing felt normal anymore.

I stood in my apartment, staring at my phone. No messages from Aidan since yesterday's brief text: *All clear on my end. You?*

My equally terse reply: *Same. Thanks for your help.*

Just like that, we'd reverted to strangers. The game could resume.

So why did I feel so hollow?

"Earth to Layla!" Oliver waved his hand in front of my face. "I asked if you wanted more wine."

"Sorry." I pushed my glass toward him. "I'm distracted."

"By tall, dark and furniture designer?" He filled my glass with a knowing look. "You haven't mentioned him in two days, which means you can't stop thinking about him."

"That's ridiculous psychoanalysis."

"It's best friend intuition." He settled beside me on the couch. "What happened in that hotel room? And don't say 'nothing' because your face gets all pinched when you lie."

I touched my face self-consciously. "Nothing happened... physically."

"But?"

"But..." I sighed. "I don't know. Something changed. And now it's weird."

"Have you considered—and I know this is revolutionary—actually telling him how you feel?"

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I scoffed. "And lose the game? No thanks."

Oliver stared at me for a long moment. "You know what your problem is? You'd rather win an imaginary competition than have a real connection."

His words stung because they contained too much truth. I sipped my wine instead of responding.

"Fine, ignore me." He stood up. "But while you're protecting your precious ego, someone else might decide he's worth the risk."

After Oliver left, I tried distracting myself with work, television, even a dating app—but found myself swiping left on everyone. None of them were Aidan.

This was pathetic. I was pathetic.

With sudden determination, I changed into a killer dress, applied fresh lipstick, and ordered a rideshare to The Gibson, a cocktail bar downtown. If I couldn't stop thinking about Aidan, I'd simply replace him with someone new. Back to the game I knew how to play.

The bar was crowded, vibrating with Friday night energy. I spotted a promising target within minutes—tall, well-dressed, right age range. He caught me looking and smiled. Too easy.

I ordered a gin and tonic, feeling a familiar confidence return. This was my element. This was what I was good at.

"Excuse me," a deep voice said from behind me. Not my target—someone else. "Is this seat taken?"

I turned, prepared to politely decline, and froze.

"Aidan."

He looked good—too good in a charcoal button-down with the sleeves rolled up. "Layla. Fancy meeting you here."

"Are you following me?" The question came out sharper than intended.

"Considering I've been here for an hour, that would require time travel." He nodded toward a booth where a group of people sat. "Monthly get-together with college friends."

"Oh." I felt foolish. "Well, don't let me keep you."

"Actually, I was about to leave." His eyes traveled over my dress appreciatively. "Unless you'd like company?"

I should have said no. Instead, I heard myself say, "Sure."

We found a quiet corner, awkwardness hanging between us like a curtain. He ordered whiskey neat; I nursed my gin and tonic.

"So," we both said simultaneously, then laughed.

"You first," he offered.

"I was just going to ask how work is."

"Back to normal. Yours?"

"Same."

More silence. This was excruciating.

"This is ridiculous," I finally said. "We spent three days together planning a counter-espionage operation. We shared a bed. And now we're making small talk like uncomfortable strangers."

"What would you prefer to talk about?" His voice was carefully neutral.

"I don't know. Something real." I met his gaze. "Like why you've barely contacted me since everything was resolved."

He studied his drink. "I thought that was what you wanted. Game over, back to our regular lives."

"Is that what you want?"

His eyes lifted to mine. "No."

The simple honesty of that single word made my chest tighten.

"I can't stop thinking about that night in the hotel," he continued. "Not just the almost-kiss, but all of it. Talking to you. Laughing with you." He paused. "Waking up with you."

I swallowed hard. "Me too."

"So where does that leave us?" he asked.

Before I could answer, a woman appeared at our table—stunning, with long dark hair and legs for days.

"Aidan! I thought that was you." She smiled, completely ignoring me. "It's been forever."

"Cassandra." He looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"Too long." She touched his shoulder. "We should catch up properly sometime."

I recognized the look in her eyes, the practiced hair flip, the strategic touch. I'd performed that routine countless times myself.

"I should let you two talk," I said, standing abruptly. "Thanks for the drink, Aidan."

"Layla, wait—"

But I was already walking away, pushing through the crowd toward the exit. Outside, the night air was cool against my heated skin. What was I doing? Running away because some woman flirted with him? This wasn't me. I didn't get jealous. I didn't care.

Except I did care. Far more than I wanted to admit.

I walked aimlessly, not ready to go home but having nowhere else to go. Three blocks later, I heard rapid footsteps behind me.

"Layla!" Aidan caught up, slightly out of breath. "Why did you leave like that?"

"You seemed busy." I kept walking. "Cassandra was clearly interested in 'catching up properly.'"

"Are you jealous?" He sounded almost hopeful.

"No!" I stopped walking and faced him. "Maybe. I don't know what I am anymore."

"Join the club." He ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't been able to flirt with anyone else since that wedding. Do you know how disturbing that is for me?"

Despite everything, I laughed. "Terribly inconvenient."

"It's worse than that." His expression grew serious. "I saw you in that bar tonight, checking out that guy by the dartboard. And I wanted to punch him. I've never been the jealous type. Ever."

We stood there on the sidewalk, the admission hanging between us.

"So what now?" I asked. "We just... date? Like normal people?"

"Is that so terrible?"

I thought about it. "Honestly? It's terrifying."

"I know." He stepped closer. "But maybe it's worth the risk."

My phone chimed with a notification. I glanced down to see a text from Oliver: *Did you tell him yet or are you still being stubborn?*

I looked up to find Aidan watching me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way I'd never seen before. Something inside me cracked open.

"You know what? This is ridiculous," I said, marching past him back toward the bar.

"Layla, where are you going?"

I didn't answer, pushing through the crowd until I spotted her—Cassandra, now sitting with a group of women. I walked directly to their table.

"Excuse me," I said. "That man you were talking to earlier? He's taken. Move on."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I turned and walked back to where Aidan stood by the entrance, his expression a mix of shock and something else—something that made my heart race.

"What was that?" he asked as I reached him.

"That was me ending the game." I met his gaze steadily. "I lose."

Before he could respond, I saw his attention shift to something over my shoulder. His face darkened.

"Speaking of the game ending..." He stepped forward, taking my hand and pulling me possessively to his side as he glared at someone behind me.

I turned to see a man watching us from the bar. It took me a moment to recognize him through the haze of colored lights.

"Is that...?"

"The guy from the wedding. The one you were texting in the elevator." Aidan's arm tightened around my waist.

"I wasn't actually going to meet him," I said quietly.

"I know." His eyes found mine again. "I wasn't going to meet my date either."

We stood there, holding each other's gaze as the bar pulsed around us.

"Game over," he said softly.

"So who wins?"

Aidan smiled, pulling me closer. "I think we both do."

I rose on tiptoes, my lips a breath away from his. "Technically, I said it first. I lose."

"Mmm, but I felt it first," he countered. "So I lose."

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Bossy," he murmured, but complied, his lips finding mine in a kiss that felt like both an ending and a beginning.

"...Damn it," we whispered against each other's lips. "I lost."