Page 50 of Bad Run

I rush out of the meeting room and take off in the direction I last saw Gwen. The hall leading to the front office elevators is empty. The elevator dings, and the Evaders’ office manager walks out.

“Hey, Sylvie,” I greet her.

The older woman smiles softly at me as she steps off the elevator. “Hello, Mr. Taylor. What can I help you with?” Sylvie asks. She always calls us players by our last names, and it always reminds me of my mother because it’s something she would do.

“I’m looking for Gwen. Have you seen her upstairs?”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, no. It’s nothing big. I just had a question about my socials. I saw her do something for Cam, and I was thinking about doing it myself.”

“Gwen’s a genius, isn’t she?”

She’s more than that.

“Definitely.”

Sylvie grins at me. “Try one of the conference rooms. She sometimes likes to sit in the quiet while she works.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime, Mr. Taylor. See you around.” Sylvie shoots me a wave and walks off.

I look around the space with a groan. There is a ridiculous number of small offices and conference rooms.

“Fuck.”

Six conference rooms later, I find Gwen sitting on the floor in the corner of a dark room, with her arms on her knees and her head down, chin on her chest.

“Gwen?” I whisper.

She lifts her head and squints. “Lance?”

The crack in her voice leads me to believe she’s crying. I open the door wider, and the light from the hallway catches the tear tracks on both her cheeks, confirming my suspicion.

My palms curl into fists as my protective instincts kick in. Whoever made her cry is about to get clobbered.

I close the door behind me, not wanting anyone else to see Gwen in this state. She was looking for privacy for a reason. “What are you doing down here?”

“Shouldn’t you be in a meeting with Anson?” Gwen asks, deflecting my question. She sniffles and dabs at her nose with a tissue.

“I asked you first.” I take a second to let my eyes adjust to the dark before crossing the room to where she’s sitting.

“I’m obviously hiding so I can cry. Alone.” She sighs, laying her head against the wall.

“Want to tell me why you’re crying?” I slowly lower myself to the ground and take the spot beside her, close enough for our arms and legs to touch.

“Not really.”

“I’m a good listener.”

“That’s not all you’re good at,” she mumbles under her breath, making my cock twitch in my sweats. I try to push the inappropriate images of me and Gwen out of my head.

“What’s going on?” I ask, trying again to get her to talk.

She looks up at the darkened ceiling. “I just found out my dad won’t promote me because of some dumb clause my grandfather put in his will. I always knew Ted Sr. was a sexist pig, but my dad too? It’s just so aggravating, you know? And I can’t do anything about it. So, I came in here—where no one would find me—to cry.”

“But I found you.”