This morning I was late to work. Why?

Because I woke up next to the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.

One who’d stayed over more nights than not since I babysat Emily over a week ago.

One who sang when she brushed her teeth, instead of in the shower like a normal person.

One who’d finally capitulated to being my girlfriend. (Literally, I’d pinned her down the other morning and wrote ‘Riley’s girlfriend’ in pen on the inside of her arm as she laughed until she cried.)

Things were finally good between us. A barrier had come down, and I’m not talking about the latex.

I’d always liked the predictability of being in an actual relationship. But dating Sam was like a regular relationship on crack.

Not because she was unpredictable, though she could be.

Because everything she did provoked a response.

I was fascinated by the way picked out her clothes in the morning. Perplexed by the art blogs she read. Blown away by the fact that she made her dad lunch and dinner every day, mostly as an excuse to check up on him.

He’d been trying to get her to move out, which I was all for.

I had a giant townhouse and not nearly enough Sam.

It was crazy that I felt like I needed more of her, when two months ago I had none of her.

But you know what else was crazy?

The way she’d shown up at my door last night wearing a black leather skirt—a damned skirt.

Game over.

I’d shut the front door and before she could say hello, pressed her up against it and thoroughly enjoyed the way my name sounded echoing in the foyer.

(Then again in the kitchen.)

(And the shower, because by that point, we were too dirty for anything else.)

I loved that I could be as fucking depraved as I wanted and she never once told me no, because she wanted it every bit as much as I did.

“What’s going on?” I asked Jimmy when I arrived at Titan.

“We’re running an Omega demo.”

The team of coders was clustered around a console setup at one end of the pit, wired up to a big screen television.

Max and Muppet sat side by side on beanbag chairs playing the latest version of the game. Their avatars moved over the ground until they came face to face with the enemy.

“There’s a glitch right there,” Muppet murmured. Max remained expressionless, his shoulders tight and his arms twitching as he manipulated the controller.

The enemy advanced, the characters moving into combat. Max and Muppet continued to play, each of them calling out to another of the coders who was taking notes on the remaining issues. Their avatars were clearly winning the fight, thinning out the herd of opponents one by one.

“Is the facial recognition on?” Max said.

“Yeah,” Muppet responded.

“Nothing’s happening,” I murmured.

“Yeah. Exactly like the last month of doing this,” Jimmy replied.

In the weeks since I’d returned from LA, I’d hoped for some progress on the tech side of things.

But true to its name, Omega might be the end of us.

I started to turn away and Jimmy followed. “Ry, can I talk to you for a second?”

I gestured with my head and he followed me into the glass conference room. I glanced toward a seat, but he shook his head.

“One of our competitors is making offers. I’m not supposed to say who, but given they’re doubling their workforce, you can probably guess.”

I cursed. Axel, our biggest competition, had signed a platform deal just before year end giving streaming access to their games through a distributor. I’d nearly spit out my Red Bull when I read it in the tech news.

“I’m not the only one who’s been approached.” Jimmy rubbed a hand over his goatee, looking back toward the demo happening on the other side of the room. “I think there are concerns about the future of Titan. The Phoenix game was the biggest launch in… ever. But it’s been nearly two years and we don’t have a new product on the table. Plus there’s a rumor going around.”

“What kind of rumor?”

“That we’re burning cash.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m sure it’s crap. But people spend sixteen hours a day here, they talk.”

“I get it. Thanks for telling me. And Jimmy? It’s going to be fine.” He nodded and as I watched him walk back to his colleagues, a stone settled in my stomach.

Titan needed something to put us back on the map. It wasn’t only about dollars, either. Confidence with the team had been up when the movie adaptation of Phoenix was announced. But since no one but me was involved with it—and Max had zero interest in changing that—they didn’t know whether it had any power to change their fates with Titan.

Back when I’d heard about Axel’s deal to license their games on a streaming platform, an idea had taken shape. We could not only go direct to the platform, but involve Epic in a relationship that would leverage all of our brands, and advertising dollars.

Boom. Fourth-of-July fireworks.

Lining up Epic and a distributors and getting them to both put in a big chunk of cash was easier said than done, but hey—that was the gig.

I reached for my phone, surprised when someone answered on the first ring. “David? It’s Riley. I need your help.”

“I got your email,” Max said from the doorway of my office the next afternoon. “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.” He pulled the door behind him and took a seat in one of the beanbag chairs in the corner.

It wasn’t a beanbag conversation, but he’d committed, so I took the other one. I shifted forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

“I told you I was scoping a new deal. You know Cobalt?”

“They are the largest game streaming platform in the world.”

I nodded. “They’re in. So’s Epic. We give them our games, we get a cut. Both Epic and Cobalt put in on advertising, because Epic wants to build the fan base who’s likely to see the movie. It’ll bring in another five mil this year, and up to ten mil next. With virtually no additional effort.”

“I don’t like the cut they take.”

“First, We’re bleeding cash trying to build out the functionality you want on Omega. Second, I called in a favor with our contact at Epic to make this deal happen.” If Max heard the frustration in my voice, he didn’t let on. But the reality was David had come through big time. “Did you see the contract I sent?”

“Yes. They want to distribute Omega as part of the deal.”

I ticked off my fingers one by one. “Our sales are slowing. We’re losing virtual shelf space. We need cash flow. And the staff needs security.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Our competitors are growing. And they’re poaching.”

“If anyone out there wants to leave, they can go right ahead and do it.”

I let out a half-laugh. “Everyone on this team we’ve handpicked. They’re family.”

“If they’re family, they’ll be loyal.” He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “Speaking of. What exactly is a brand consultant?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There was a postscript on the email you forwarded me. The one with the contract.”

Confusion washed over me as I reached for my phone and scrolled through the inbox. I clicked on the message from David and flipped to the very bottom.

I’d been so focused on the attachment I’d only skimmed the rest.

P.S. I haven’t forgotten our conversation last month. How’s $15k/month? It’s the best I can do on short notice. We’ll call you a brand consultant. Let me know if you’re in.

Shit.

I met my friend’s accusing gaze. “Max…”

“You must be really motivated to jump ship to take a salary cut like that.” He lifted a shoulder. “If you’re looking for an out, you don’t need Epic to do it. There’s always been a door. It’s always been open.”

“I didn’t ask for a job offer,” I said under my breath.

“But you knew this was coming.” His voice shook at the edges.

I didn’t answer his question. “Listen. When you started this company you wanted to make games. You think we can just keep doing what we’ve always done and carve out a niche in the market. We’re not a few people anymore. This is a corporation. It has brands. Assets. We need diversification. We’re running a business, Max.”

Max rose from the chair, his face a mask of stubborn anger. “I started Titan to do one thing. Make the best games on the planet.”

“Don’t you think that’s what I’m trying to do?” My voice rose.

“Based on what I read in this email, I don’t know, Ry.” He rubbed a hand over his neck. “But I do know one thing. We’re not taking that deal.”

Without a sound, he turned and walked out.