Chapter 2
AVERY
Icouldn’t sleep. Again.
And no, it wasn’t caffeine or blue light or the full moon’s personal vendetta against me. This was work stress.
At least, that’s the story I was sticking to as I shoved off my blanket and crept across my room like a burglar. In our tiny condo, even a sigh could sound like a marching band, so I moved on silent tiptoe, dodging every creaky floorboard.
The digital glow of my fitness watch told me it was after eleven. Great. Everyone else in Reboot—probably everyone else in the city—was dreaming about beach vacations and fudgy brownies. I was wide awake, thinking about the stupidly gorgeous billionaire lighting guy.
His eyes. That jaw. Arms that looked capable of carrying me and all my emotional baggage.
“Ugh.”
The groan slipped out before I could stop it. I slapped a hand over my mouth, bracing for Mollie to yell through the paper-thin wall. When silence held, I exhaled and grabbed my sweats and a T-shirt.
If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well sweat. The fitness center downstairs was open twenty-four hours, and exercise supposedly helped insomnia. Whether it did or not, at least I’d look productive while spiraling.
I slipped out of Unit 16C, shutting the door with a satisfying click.
The hallway hummed softly with HVAC white noise as I padded toward the elevator, mentally outlining my plan.
Treadmill, weights, forget the way Kyle Ashbrook had looked at me today like he was deciding whether to hire me or sue me…
You’re confident.
I’m right.
God. I’d actually said that—to him. To a billionaire. To a man who could buy Ultra Bright, rename it KyleCo, and still have enough left for a fleet of yachts.
Still, I was right. ClimaGlow didn’t violate his patent. I’d checked the specs seventeen times. Eighteen, if you counted the one I’d done mentally on the elevator ride down.
When the doors slid open, my reflection in the wall-mounted mirror nearly made me laugh—messy bun, no makeup, and a faded college tee. Definitely not the slick professional who’d faced him across a conference table this morning.
The gym was nearly empty—one guy on the far side doing bicep curls, oblivious. Perfect. I claimed a treadmill by the windows and started a slow jog. Left foot, right foot, breathe. I tackled the workout with the furious energy of someone breaking things.
Except my brain wasn’t breaking things—it was replaying him. Kyle Ashbrook. The way he’d looked at me—first curious, then cold when he realized Reed had sent me instead of showing up himself. Until I started talking. Then his eyes had sharpened. He’d leaned forward, actually listening.
It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did.
I pushed my speed up a notch. My lungs burned. Perfect distraction. Except the distraction had dark hair and a devastating smile and probably a six-pack he’d patented himself.
I’d followed his work since college—WeatherSync, his early projects, all of it. I’d cited his papers in my senior thesis. Basically, the man was my tech-industry celebrity crush…and now he thought my company had stolen from him.
My chest tightened. Definitely just the running.
“Careful. You’ll burn out at that pace.”
I yelped—actually yelped—and nearly launched myself into orbit. I grabbed the handrails and turned—and nearly forgot how to breathe.
Oh no. Oh no.
Kyle Ashbrook stood three treadmills down, water bottle in hand, looking like the cover model for a sports drink ad. Black shorts and a gray T-shirt clinging to muscles that had absolutely no business existing in real life. His dark hair was damp, like he’d already worked up a sweat.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted, because apparently my brain had left the building.
He arched a brow. “I live here. What are you doing here?”
“I—uh—I live here too.”
His eyes flicked, assessing. “You live in Reboot?”
“Floor sixteen. Unit 16C.”
“Penthouse. 25H.”
Of course. The penthouse. Where all the megarich tech demigods roamed free.
We stared at each other too long. I realized I was still walking on the treadmill like a confused hamster and hit the stop button.
“Small world,” I said. It came out more strangled than suave.
“Apparently.” He moved closer, smelling faintly of clean sweat and something woodsy—like cedar and sin. “Didn’t know Ultra Bright employees lived here.”
“Just me. Well, me and my roommates. One of their dads works for Cruz Kemper’s property management company, so we got a deal on rent.” Why was I still talking?
“Well, your employer lives here too. He’s got a unit on my floor.”
“Reed lives here?”
That was new information—and suddenly, very unfair.
“Yep.” Kyle leaned on the treadmill next to mine, arms crossed. It should’ve been intimidating, but somehow, it wasn’t. “You always work out this late?”
“Only when I can’t sleep.” I cringed the second it left my mouth.
“Work stress?”
I nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“Same.” He glanced at the windows, city lights glittering below us. “Moving helps me think.”
“Me too.”
I twisted my water bottle open just to give my hands something to do. This was surreal. An hour ago, I’d been trying not to think about him. Now he was here, sweaty and gorgeous and talking about stress like a relatable human.
The bicep guy finished, grabbed his towel, and left. The door closed—and suddenly, it was just us.
“For what it’s worth,” Kyle said finally, “you handled yourself well today.”
I blinked. “I—thank you?”
“I’m not surprised Reed blew me off, but I would’ve expected him to send someone from PR. Not someone who actually knew what she was talking about.” His gaze swept over me, lingering just long enough to make my pulse trip.
“I know ClimaGlow inside and out,” I said, chin lifting. “I wouldn’t have taken that meeting if I didn’t.”
“I believe you.” His voice had softened, lower now. “For the record, I don’t think you stole anything.”
My heart stuttered. “But you think someone at Ultra Bright did.”
“I think the similarities are too close to ignore.” His tone hardened. “But I’m willing to be proven wrong. That’s why I agreed to the deep-dive.”
“Then I’ll prove it.”
His mouth curved—barely, but it was there. An almost-smile that did dangerous things to my insides. “I’m looking forward to it.”
God help me, so was I.
“I should get back to my workout,” I said, even though my legs were jelly.
“Right.” He stepped back, giving me space—but didn’t leave. He just watched me, those dark eyes impossible to read.
I hit the start button and tried to jog like a normal person. Spoiler—I did not succeed. Running while Kyle Ashbrook watched me was like juggling chainsaws while riding a unicycle.
“Avery.”
I looked over, nearly tripping again. “Yeah?”
“See you at the deep-dive.” His voice was low, rough, a little dangerous.
“See you there.”
He grabbed his bottle and walked out, and I absolutely did not watch the way his shoulders moved under that T-shirt. Not even a little.
When the door shut behind him, I pressed my hand to my forehead. “Kyle Ashbrook lives in my building. I am so screwed.”
The worst part? I didn’t mind one bit.