“It was at my very first job. I worked for one of the other huge tech companies that will remain nameless, but for a while they basically owned much of Austin. I was fresh out of grad school and soaking wet behind the ears—that’s how my old supervisor described me. I developed a fix for an issue they’d been having with their recovery software, and was so excited that I stupidly shared it with a coworker. He immediately passed the idea off as his own. I tried to bring proof that it had been my idea, but I was accused of not being a team player. Since he had so many years at the company, he was given the benefit of the doubt, and I earned the reputation of being a selfish grandstander.”

“That’s bullshit. It was your idea.”

“That’s the cutthroat world of the tech industry. That guy is now the senior VP of Product Design at another firm.” She shrugged. “I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve that position, but I’ve followed his career. His rise to the top stemmed from my idea.” Another shrug. “I’ve had to deal with similar situations throughout my career. I learned to keep my cards close to my chest, especially around those who have the knowledge to take my ideas and run with them.”

“Just to be clear, I would never do that to you. Ever.”

No, he just lied to her face about who he really was.

“I know,” she said. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Knowing you wouldn’t turn around and stab me in the back is the only reason I was finally able to share it with you. It’s nice to have someone in this industry that I can trust.” She kissed him again. “Hey, do you like Jamaican food? I’m in the mood for curried goat and plantains.”

“Sounds like the perfect rainy day meal,” he answered around the lump of self-loathing lodged in his throat.

Once she’d left the room, Daniel threw his head back and shut his eyes tight. She was going to hate him for a long, long time once the truth finally came out. Possibly forever.

And he would deserve it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

How about the Leyland Group Lovelies?”

Groans wafted up to the high ceilings as Sam Hilton shielded himself from the balled-up notebook paper, candy wrappers, and Post-it Notes being hurled his way.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Daniel said. “They may not appreciate your humor, but I do.”

A yellow highlighter sailed toward him.

“Duck and weave, dude,” Sam said. “It’s the only way to survive this crowd.”