Playing for Keeps: Finding Love Beyond the Lies - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

I cut Dante out of my life completely. Posted a few carefully crafted late-night Instagram stories—the perfect "heartbroken but healing" aesthetic—then genuinely forgot he existed.
Life in Washington settled into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm. I threw myself into the new job, mastered the company dynamics, and started going through my parents' endless parade of potential husbands.
The balding twenty-eight-year-old programmer sitting across from me was still talking:
"I really believe women should prioritize family after marriage. What I'm saying is, once we tie the knot, you should quit working. Don't be so ambitious. Focus on taking care of the home. Behind every successful man is a supportive woman..."
He droned on while I smiled politely at my coffee, fighting the urge to dump it over his receding hairline.
When he finally paused for breath, he stared at me expectantly. "So did you get all that? Any thoughts you want to share?"
I kept smiling. "Nope, I think I'm good. But Mr. Stewart, I don't think we're a great match. Maybe we should call it here."
I walked out while he muttered something about women over twenty-five being "expired goods" and other delightful commentary.
Mom had introduced me to dozens of guys since I'd been back. Some were actually impressive on paper—doctors, lawyers, successful businessmen.
But God, after Dante, they all felt so... bland. Like switching from cocaine to decaf coffee.
I was still dealing with that disappointment when I walked into our Monday morning meeting to find everyone sitting in dead silence around the conference table, looking like they were about to face a firing squad.
I slid into my seat and whispered to Richard, our VP: "What the hell happened? Did we lose a major client?"
He leaned over, his voice barely audible: "The chairman's son just landed. Word is he's using our branch as a testing ground before taking over the whole empire."
"This Amaury guy is Harvard Business School, worked at Goldman for years, then went independent and made a killing in private equity. Hundreds of millions in one deal. The old man had to beg him to come back for years. Total predator—be very fucking careful what you say."
A few minutes later, the conference room door opened.
The man who walked in wore a perfectly tailored black suit, a cashmere coat draped over his shoulders like he owned the world. Someone immediately stepped forward to take it, and his Italian leather shoes clicked once against the floor before stopping.
I looked up, and every single person in that room—including me—forgot how to breathe.
It wasn't just that he was attractive. It was the energy he carried.
Pure authority. The kind of presence that made you want to sit up straighter, speak more carefully, prove you deserved to be in the same room.
He wasn't trying to intimidate anyone—he didn't need to. Command just radiated from him like heat.
When I finally managed to focus on his actual features, I nearly lost it again. Sharp cheekbones, dark hair styled back to show off those incredible bone structure. His mother was supposedly French nobility, and you could see it—that perfect blend of European elegance and something indefinably exotic.
He was stunning. Maybe even more beautiful than Dante, but in a completely different way. Where Dante was all lazy sex appeal, this man was sharp edges and controlled power.
"Apologies for the delay. Flight from New York was late."
He acknowledged his tardiness without making excuses, then took his place at the head of the table like he'd been born to sit there.
"I'm Amaury de Brissac. I'll be serving as general manager moving forward. I've reviewed our financials and operational data. Starting with Richard, I want detailed reports on your department's performance over the past year and current project status."
One by one, my colleagues stood up to present, and Amaury systematically destroyed every attempt to bullshit him.
"I'm not interested in corporate speak," he said calmly when our marketing director tried to spin some obviously failed campaign. "I don't appreciate being misled. I prefer honest communication, but if that approach doesn't work, I'm happy to explore alternatives."
He hadn't raised his voice. Hadn't even frowned. But every person in that room was sweating.
My hands were actually trembling when I stood up, but thankfully I'd been meticulous about my prep work. The past year had been my best performance yet—major client acquisitions, successful project completions, measurable revenue growth.
As I spoke, something shifted. My nervousness faded, replaced by the confidence I felt when discussing my actual expertise.
This was where I belonged. This was what I'd worked my ass off to achieve.
Amaury listened without interrupting, and I caught something that looked like approval in those sharp eyes.
When I finished and sat down, he nodded once. "Excellent work, Katrina. This is the standard I expect going forward."
The relief in the room was palpable.
Ever since Amaury took over, everything changed.
He eliminated dead weight—both projects and people—while somehow landing three major contracts in his first month. We were working longer hours, but our compensation had increased across the board.
The office dynamic shifted too. Everyone was sharper, more focused. No one wanted to be the weak link.
Especially the women.
The younger female employees were practically vibrating with interest. I couldn't blame them—Amaury was like catnip for ambitious twenty-somethings with daddy issues.
Two of the new hires apparently thought they were living in some romance novel.
Jessica from accounting tried the "challenge him in meetings" approach, getting increasingly argumentative during presentations.
Sarah from HR went with the classic "oops I spilled coffee on your expensive shirt" move, then actually tried to touch his chest while "cleaning" it.
Jessica was gone by Tuesday.
Sarah didn't make it to lunch.
After that, the flirting attempts stopped, but the break room gossip reached new heights.
"Do you think he's ever been in a serious relationship?" Emma from legal was saying as I grabbed coffee Thursday afternoon.
"Are you kidding?" Lisa from marketing rolled her eyes. "Look at him. Women probably line up around the block."
"But has anyone ever seen him with someone? Like, ever?" Emma persisted. "Maybe he's one of those guys who's married to his work."
"I'd volunteer to change that," Sarah's replacement, Jenny, chimed in with a dreamy expression. "Did you see him in that gray suit yesterday? The man is built like a fucking Greek statue."
I listened to their speculation while stirring sugar into my coffee, feeling something stir in my chest.
Without Dante cluttering up my thoughts, Amaury seemed like a much more interesting option.
This man—I wanted to try him on for size.