Let's Play A Dirty Ass Game, Mr. CEO

Chapter 63: A DROP OF POISON

TRISTAN

Harlan: Wanna meet for a drink?

I stared at the text for a couple seconds before my eyes darted to the time bar at the top of my screen.

11.49pm.

And Harlan was asking to meet for a drink?

Heck, it was not the perfect time to go out for a drink, but I needed an escape from everything I was feeling...from everyone I didn’t want in my space.

And I would be lying if I didn’t add that I was also curious about the true nature of Harlan’s relationship with Laura.

So I pulled up the keyboard and quickly shot a response back.

: cool. Meet where?

Almost instantly, his response came.

Harlan: our usual spot.

I walked further into the room, tossing my phone to the bed. Then I had a quick shower and changed into a pair of dark jeans and round-shirt that held a faint whiff of cologne.

Pulling it on, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked a mess physically. A hot mess, to put it nicely.

But Harlan was the last person I had to worry about. I wasn’t going to impress him. I was going to hang out.

So I grabbed my keys, phone and hurried out.

After fifteen minutes of driving, I was at our favorite spot from when we still used to be best of friends. A private lounge sitting downtown New York. Harlan arrived a few seconds after I did, and we both decided on two glasses of cocktails..

"Better to go easy on the alcohol. I think I might have had too much to drink at your party."

"Really?" I cleared my throat and adjusted in my seat, watching him for any hints or clues that could help me understand why he asked us to meet under the guise of having a drink together.

As the first round was poured by the waiter, Harlan picked up his glass and clinked it against mine. "Cheers to a successful marriage in advance."

I snatched my glass back and tossed the alcohol down my throat. He watched me steadily as the liquid burned, going all the way down.

"It’s successful if it brings in money," I said after a moment.

The words are bitter on my tongue. Or maybe it was just the shit I drank without confirming what made up the mixture.

An itch began to claw at the back of my eyes. I ignored it and decided to wring something out of Harlan. "So, you and Laura, huh?"

Harlan leaned forward, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the woman that made me lose my train of thought too often than usual.

"Yeah, what about us?"

I cleared my throat and called for another glass. "So, are you like, a thing or?"

"Oh." He laughed, shoving his fingers through his hair. "Actually, we’re looking at how that can work out between us." He cleared his throat and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You know, we’re business partners as well."

"Okay, what is there?"

Harlan’s face clouded over as he considered my question. "I think there’s something between us. I can feel it so strongly sometimes, I wonder if it’s going to consume me."

My heart thudded hard against my ribcage as I waited for more. "But...?"

Harlan shook his head slowly, a streak of agitation crossing his features. "She seems quite difficult to understand. Most of the time, I feel she wants me too. Other times, I’m left wondering if I imagined it all."

I nodded without thinking, because I could relate to what he was saying in a way to some reasonable extent. "Right?"

"I just feel like...I don’t know what she wants. And it’s frustrating, you know. But I still adore her as much as I did the first time we met."

"How did you two meet?"

He watched me for a beat of two seconds, then his lips peeled back in a smile and he looked almost unrecognizable. "You seem quite curious about her."

"Do I?" I lifted my hand and scratched the back of my neck. There was a burning sensation sitting there that left me even more uncomfortable.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived just then and I grabbed the glass, seeking a window to hang on and really consider if I wanted to tell Harlan how crazy she was driving me. Would it be a wise thing to do? To tell him that we had a thing in the past and I’d refused to let go of the memory...the possibility of what could be if Laura and I let it happen?

I’d just lifted the second glass of cocktail to my lips when the pungent smell hit me. There was nothing pungent about the smells of nuts, but my allergy had made it so that my nostrils detested the smell.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!!

I bolted to my feet, my vision blurring. "I need to leave."

"Tristan? You okay?"

I swayed as I tried to take another step forward and crashed right into the table. My skin was burning hot now, and I could literally feel the hives breaking out on my face and neck. Because they seared my skin as they appeared.

Harlan quickly caught me by my shoulders and steadied me into one of the seats, holding me up with his weight. Then his eyes widened as they traced the hives on my face.

Of course he would recognize them. He was my best friend. The one who knew about my allergies and stuck around for the better part of them.

He grabbed my empty glass and sniffed it. "Fucking nuts. We should have said something to the waiter."

Bouts of intense coughing racked my being. It became more difficult to breathe by the moment, and I could feel my chest closing up fast.

"Fuck, man. We need to get you to a hospital."

Thankfully, the lounge was deserted this time of the night, so I didn’t have to worry about creating a scene. All I had to worry about was my health.

"Excuse me!" I heard Harlan call to the waiter. "I need a hand here!"

"M-my car," my voice tumbled out in a pathetic whimper, "there’s an epinephrine shot t-there."

"Alright hold still. I’ll go get it." He hesitated as he turned to leave. "Think you can stay on the table until I get back?"

"J-Just go," I gurgled, and he raced out.

As I watched his retreating back, I wondered why I never caught a whiff of the nut until I drank a full glass and started on the second one.

It was a little more than unusual to not recognize something that had the ability to end my life.

Was I really losing my mind?