27. Hayden

TWENTY-SEVEN

HAYDEN

Olivia means nothing to me. I deleted her from my contacts. I never answered that video call. And if our paths ever cross again, whether forty thousand feet in the sky or here on the ground, I won't give her a second glance. That's what I would tell Juliana...

If she ever speaks to me again.

I've endured nine days of radio silence. Nine whole days of locking herself in her room and ignoring my knocks, the papers I've slipped under her door, my text messages, phone calls, voicemails, even emails. Hell, I'm two days shy of sending a carrier pigeon. Anything to convince her to just talk with me or look me in the eye or not dash from the kitchen the second I enter.

But the thing is... even if I got her to listen to me, what would I say after all that? Demand why she cares so much? I'm not even ready to answer that question. She said it herself—there's nothing more between us. And it's me we're talking about here, so... why is this all such a big deal? And why am I willingly ghosting Olivia and every other girl who's hitting me up like normal?

I mean, seriously, ever since Juliana moved into my apartment, I've let my number one, number two, three, four, and five just float into the wind, without even intentionally playing hard to get. It's like my instincts are revolting on themselves, screaming one big fuck you to...

Rule #9: A playboy maintains multiple dating prospects at all times.

So, yes, if I want to avoid self-destruction, these are all incredibly urgent questions...

That I sweep to the furthest corners of my mind.

"Her presentation starts in five minutes." To my left, Elias checks his watch, leaning back in his chair that's positioned at the head of the conference room table. "If she's late, I'll have to give her spot to one of the others waiting outside."

"She'll be here."

I think.

If it weren't for her ghosting me, I'd have no doubts. This is her end of the fake dating arrangement—gaining an audience with the man who chooses Kingston Entertainment's sponsors for this year's DreamScape. And as of right now, mostly, that's Elias, who will listen to all the presentations for the Indie Creator Showcase today. But, when I texted her a couple days back about the presentation, she never replied.

"Here." A notebook smacks on the table in front of me, along with a pen. "You'll be in charge of my presentation notes."

I blink. Pen and paper? What're we, in the stone ages?

"Is there something wrong with that?" he asks when I remain silent.

Besides having to do my brother's bitch work, oh nothing.

"Uhh, yeah. What about a laptop?"

His smirk tells me it's intentional. "You can type them up later."

Asshole.

"Why the long face, Hayden?" He snorts. "Worried your little lady friend will think differently of you? Come on now. I doubt it'll make her forget your last name. Besides, no one would blink twice seeing an assistant taking notes."

I wet my lips. "Right."

"Wait..." A smile grows along his lips, sparking annoyance inside me. "No— no, don't tell me."

I roll my eyes, anticipating his next words.

"She doesn't know you're my assistant?" He sucks in a breath, trying to stifle a laugh, only for it to come bursting out. "Oh, man, this is going to be fun, but... what is it she thinks you do here...?"

That I'm under Dad's wing, I don't say.

"No, wait." He holds out a hand before I sell him some nonsense. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know. That'll make it even better."

I exhale sharply, mumbling a string of curses.

Elias checks his watch again. "Two minutes."

My knuckles thrum along the table as I search for her through the solid glass surrounding the meeting room. Cubicles dominate the floor's massive space, with employees shuffling about. Some walk past the rows of chairs along the farside wall, occupied by the hopeful game devs, mostly men. But no Juliana.

Sweat pricks at my temple. She wouldn't miss this, would she? All she does is work on that game.

As time wanes on, doubt creeps in, and I wonder if I'll return home to her things all packed up. Maybe she came to her senses and decided I'm not worth the hassle, that she's better off moving back to that shoebox she calls an apartmen—

My heart constricts.

Carrying a laptop, a woman in a plaid skirt swings around a blind corner. A matching blazer drapes off her shoulders, cutting off at the waistline over a dark blouse. Her block heels eat up the carpet in confident strides, swaying her slicked-back ponytail. She's one hundred and ten percent corporate, with an academia edge—and turning the heads of every man in the room, some blissfully unaware she's their competition.

"There she is," I breathe.

Elias traces the line of my gaze, squinting at the end. "Hold on... isn't that Jeremy Brooks's sister?"

"Yep," I say, cringing at how proud I sound.

He watches her approach, shock marking his features. "What the hell's a girl like that doing messing around with you?"

My jaw slackens. Wow. Okay, then. Obviously, I'm not at all surprised he recognized her, but... I didn't expect his reaction to be that brutal.

"No offense," he adds.

"Gee, none taken." Irritation flares inside me as his head tilts, still focused on her.

"Is it just me, or does she seem pissed at you?"

Fuck, why is he always so perceptive? For a guy who never leaves his office, he sure can read people.

I meet her gaze through her glasses, its intensity sending shivers down my spine. "Oh, uhh... we're just going through a rough patch, is all. We're off and on, remember?"

"Right, right, like that girl's laid-back about anything in her life."

Goddamnit, does he have to sound so intrigued?

The glass door glides open, and in strides undoubtedly the prettiest girl in the office. I can't help but stare, especially since it's my first time getting a good look at Juliana since what transpired over a week ago. Conference room or not, all I see is the hot tub's ambient glow on her features, her mouth gaping on a lust-filled moa—

I burst to my feet, mirroring Elias, as he buckles his suit jacket.

Juliana plasters on a polite smile, one apparently reserved only for my brother, as her gaze swings to him, bypassing me with a flicker of annoyance.

He clears his throat, accepting her handshake.

"Mr. Kingston." She nods, a bit shyly, earning a hearty chuckle.

"Juliana, I know it's been quite some time—years, if I recall correctly—but please, Mr. Kingston is my father. To you, I'm just Elias."

When she giggles, I'm tempted to yack all over his shiny Oxfords, particularly as she breezes past me without a glance, aiming for the podium at the end of the long table.

I sit back down awkwardly, catching Elias's smirk.

Great, this is gonna be a total blast.

With swift precision, she connects her clunky laptop to the projector, boots up a myriad of programs, half of which are cluttered with code and indescribable things, before the first slide of her presentation fills the screen. She even fiddles with the dials on the side of the podium, drawing the electric blinds across the floor-to-ceiling windows, shading us from the sun.

After a deep breath, she looks to Elias.

"Whenever you're ready."

If I didn't know any better, I'd assume Juliana doesn't have a shy bone in her body.

Her voice booms through the conference room, radiating confidence in both her tone and posture. Throughout her extensive explanations of her game's backend, including server management, code, network architecture, data integration, most of which I nearly blacked out for, she hasn't stumbled once.

Whether she's drawing strength from her obvious passion over her indie game, or from her resentment toward me, I'm not sure. Although, I'm leaning toward the latter.

For only the second time in the past fifteen minutes, our eyes connect. A fire burns behind hers with promises of murder, before they swing back to Elias, who rests his chin on a fist, captivated by every word that leaves her lips.

I grind my teeth, looking down at my notes, which are— wow, would you look at that?— half-assed and hardly legible, even to my own eyes.

With a sigh, I return my attention to the vertical, mobile gameplay captured on the screen.

Cosmic Kitty Defense, that name will never cease to amuse me. I've heard a bit about it from Jeremy and Juliana, but I've never actually seen the game. And at first glance, from someone who's never touched a controller and thinks whoever does is a raging nerd...

It looks kinda fun.

My pulse spikes, watching the pixelated aliens encroach toward the farm in the center of the screen, filled with adorable, helpless kittens. Which are... surprisingly detailed. Same with the grassy textures. I arch an eyebrow, watching the blades sway against some invisible wind.

"This is Mabel." Juliana points at the sole human character in the game, a grandma holding a pitchfork. "Controlled by the player, she's tasked with protecting her farm. Initially, she can only perform melee attacks for defense, but as the waves of aliens increase, so do her powers. She'll gain new weapons, all of which adhere to the game's theme, right down to their names, like the paw-some plasma cannon, purr-fect laser pointer, catnip cluster bomb, et cetera. And, from the game's latest update, the kitty litter sand trap—as you'll see here."

Juliana gestures in perfect sync with the video, as the player zooms through their inventory, selects a gray icon, and taps on a cluster of aliens. In response, Mabel treks to the nearest side of the farm on surprisingly quick feet, sticking close to her kitties, then hurls a projectile to the exact location, bursting a cluster of sand beneath their feet, effectively slowing their movements.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip. Good grief, does she pitch for the Yankees? Quite the cannon arm, Mabel has there.

Another minute rolls by of demonstrating other abilities, each with their own unique set of graphics and defensive strategies, until the gameplay stops and a new screen pops up, asking the player if they'd like to proceed to the next level. Instead, Juliana swings back to her slideshow.

"Advertising," she reads off the bold title, then abandons the bullet points for her memory. "I advertise on social media platforms and a few search engines, targeting users who are interested in tower defense games and real-time strategy, redirecting them to download CKD on their specific operating system's app store."

She clicks the little remote in her hand, flipping onto the next slide.

"Newsletter. These go out to my biggest fans, keeping them in the loop about new features or bug fixes. It's all pretty straightforward. As of this week, I have twenty-five hundred sign-ups." A touch of pride breaks through her tone, and unexpectedly, I feel it too, as she angles the remote to the screen and—

A finger taps on my notebook. "Write that down," Elias says, much too loud for my liking. When Juliana pauses, offering a strange look, he smirks.

Dick.

The rest of her presentation follows the same suit, touching on other avenues of finding players, like reaching out to niche communities and posting on gaming threads. In addition to hosting other advertisements on her game, which serves as her main source of revenue, aside from players buying the game outright.

All in all, when she clicks to the final slide with a simple "Thank you," I'm impressed. Stunned, actually. Not only by her presentation skills, but her creative imagination, technical knowledge, business prowess, and the hard work she clearly puts into the game. And going off of Elias's thunderous applause, he is too.

"Wow. Thank you, Juliana." He stands, checking his watch. "We've exceeded the presentation's time limit, so we don't have time to chat. However, rest assured, Hayden took notes."

"Sorry about that, I didn't notice the time," she chuckles, a bit anxiously, as she watches him head toward the door, presumably to let in the next candidate.

"No worries. Really, it was a pleasure."

"So... you liked it, then?" Hope gleams in her eyes, only to fade as he sighs, his hand clutching the door handle.

"Look... it's a cute game, and I'm genuinely impressed by the effort you've poured into it. I have no doubt it'll succeed— in its niche category. But... based on our market research, we're looking for something a bit more mainstream, like a First-Person Shooter, for example, or a racing game... It's just... I'm having a hard time believing this game will appeal to a wide audience." He offers her an apologetic glance. "I wish you the best of luck, though," he says on the way out the door.

Deafening silence suffocates the room as I watch Juliana's heart crumble into little pieces at her feet. In turn, a chunk rips off mine when she turns her head from me, collecting her emotions, then grabs her things in a hurry.

"Juliana..."

Laptop in hand, she rushes past me, eyeing the ground.

"His word isn't the end-all, be-all."

She stops halfway out the door, and although she doesn't say a word, I can feel the question burning through her mind. One I hate the answer to, even more than she does.

"My father's is."

Her shoulders sag, only to perk back up when I murmur, "I think your game is amazing, if that counts for anything."