Chapter 25
DAKOTA
Iwake with sunlight on my closed eyelids and a big smile on my face. I feel like I’m floating on that cliched Cloud Nine, like nothing bad is ever going to happen again. I’m not some na?ve fool. I know that’s impossible.
But it feels true. I grab my phone, clicking on the first notification.
It’s a text from Jack, taken from outside my apartment building, saying he wishes he were here with me instead.
I’m about to text him back when Mara calls me.
It’s eleven AM—she’s usually at work at this time—so I answer fast, worried something is wrong.
“Finally,” she says tightly. “I’ve called ten times.”
“I was sleeping,” I reply. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Have you been online today yet?”
“No… why?”
“Oh, Dakota,” she murmurs.
“Just tell me.”
“Somebody leaked messages between you and Jackson from inside the game. On a test level or something?”
“No,” I murmur.
“You use each other’s names and… well, I haven’t read them, obviously. But you have virtual sex, apparently, and there’s lots of romance in there too.”
“Let me guess. I’ve gone from a self-made woman to a fuck-her-way-to-the-top opportunist overnight.”
“Uh,” Mara says.
“Mara.”
“Half say something like that,” she admits. “The other half blames him for taking advantage of you.”
“Nobody’s taking advantage of anyone,” I hiss. “That’s not what’s happening between us at all.”
“All the internet knows is that a streamer known for playing this one game is now in a relationship with the CEO. I know things are more complicated than that, but the rest of the world doesn’t.”
“I don’t even want to look,” I admit.
“You don’t have to.”
I almost laugh at that. “Yes, Mara, I do. Can I call you back?”
“I’m here for you, hon.”
I walk into my office and boot up my computer. It feels like a sick joke, with my legs still aching from this morning, my sex still sore in the best possible way. Just when everything seemed like it was going to be perfect…
None of the major newspapers have picked it up yet, but it’s all over smaller tech and streamer news. There are twenty-three Reddit threads about it, countless Facebook posts. We’re all over X too. I’ve been tagged a thousand times on five different platforms.
I scan some of the messages, a pit tightening in my stomach.
WalkNova25: I wish I could say I’m surprised, but this is what these women do. Her stream was stagnating, so she decided to use her other assets. I can’t blame her. But how can she respect herself after this?
WhisperWind555: It’s not her fault. She’s ten years younger than him. HE took advantage of HER. It’s classic billionaire stuff. For the longest time, I thought he was one of the good ones. I was wrong.
I shake my head in disbelief. I’m watching my livelihood crumble in front of my eyes… along with any chance of me and Jack building a relationship at our speed.
For every one message like this?—
EchoSmith: Everybody needs to chill. All I see are two grown adults making the consensual decision to be together.
There are ten like this?—
Spikenoob: Let’s face it. She’s a slut who loves the attention. Let’s see if she loves THIS kind of attention. Mark my words. In a few weeks, this bitch will be on OnlyFans.
I feel sick, turning away from the computer screen.
For years, I’ve carefully cultivated my audience, banning people who went too far, encouraging the ones able to have a healthy relationship with their favorite streamer.
Now, this new influx of haters will dwarf that.
I need to figure out a plan. I have to do something?—
Is that the video? It is. Oh, no. It’s the video that jerk trucker took, making Jack look like a territorial bear as he strides toward the camera.
There’s no audio—probably because the trucker wanted to hide the fact he was being gross towards me—but the video is damning enough.
Even now, though, part of me likes it. His protectiveness. His fire. His certainty.
My cell phone rings. Jack. Finally! What took him so long?
“Hey, baby,” I say, breathless. “We need to figure something out together. Last night was?—”
“Dakota Vale?”
That’s not Jackson’s voice.
“This is Jack’s phone,” I say, sounding silly.
“Yes,” the man says tightly. “Sorry. This is Peter?—”
I laugh in disbelief. “Where is Jack?”
“I’m the head of media at Halcyon, Dakota,” he explains. “Jack is currently in a meeting with one of the top PR firms in the company. We’re planning a multi-pronged strategy, and we thought it would be best if we fold you into our existing plan.”
“Good luck with that.”
I hang up, furious. What game does Jack think he’s playing, having his lackey call me? He hasn’t even reached out to make sure I’m okay. It’s ridiculous.
I text him.
Dakota: Jack, call me immediately. Just you.
“Fold me into it,” I mutter. Like I’m just a tiny piece of debris in the wave that is their business. What about my business? What about what I built?
I call Mara, pacing anxiously around my apartment.
“The world’s a joke for women,” I hiss. “It’s a prank.
All these years, avoiding overtly sexual stuff, wearing a few outfits here and there, sure, but not going too far.
I was so careful, for so many years, then a guy comes along and…
I just forget. It was too easy to forget. ”
“Take a breath, Dakota,” she says. “I can hear you ramping yourself up.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” I demand. “It’s pathetic. My stream is over.”
“You don’t know that.”
“If I went live right now, what do you think the chat would be like?”
“Not good,” Mara admits. “But maybe you can…”
“What, hon?”
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to help.”
“I know,” I say, softening my voice. “I’m just struggling to see a way out of this.”
Unfortunately, Mara has to return to work. I spend the next ten minutes pacing and reading ugly comments online. When my apartment buzzer goes off, I rush to the intercom. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Jack says, sounding like a different person to the one I made love to just hours ago.
“I’m letting you up,” I say, keeping my voice cold. Maybe he learned his lesson. He had his guy call me. Like I’m just one of his employees. Like my say doesn’t matter.
Jack knocks on my door. I open it to find him standing with a fierce, anxious expression.
His eyes dart all over the place as though looking for an escape.
He steps through the threshold and reaches out for a hug.
But something about it annoys me. It’s like he’s doing it out of duty, like he thinks he has to.
I take a step back, folding my arms. He doesn’t even look hurt. More… distracted. Can I blame him? I mean, I am blaming him, so I guess the answer is yes.
“You should get dressed,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Baby, we need to?—”
“Don’t call me baby if you’re going to make it sound painful,” I snap.
“We’ve got things to discuss. There’s a team ready to coordinate our response. If we handle this together?—”
“No,” I say flatly. Suddenly, there are tears in my eyes. “No, Jack. Don’t you see what you’re doing? No.”
“I’m trying to save us,” he growls. “My company. Your stream. A coordinated?—”
“No,” I cut in. “How many times do I have to say it? No, no, no, no, no, fuck no. Is that clear enough? This is my business. I built this. I won’t let you dictate how I save it.”
“But—”
I raise my hands to grab him, then lower them. Touching him somehow feels wrong right now… when it felt right just hours ago. He’s withdrawn, in his own head, a thousand places, none of them here.
“There’s no but. If I suddenly become part of your PR team, it’ll just make things worse for me. People will think you own me, Jack. And yeah, sure, maybe I like when you say stuff like that, or call me your woman, or make me feel like that in private. But not like this.”
He grits his teeth. “These are professionals.”
“You’re acting like my father,” I snap. “Just take no for an answer.”
He flinches, realization dawning on his face. The coldness drains away. He looks lost, boyish. “I am?” he says.
I nod, softening a little. “You have to let me do this my way.”
He steps forward and takes my hand. When he pulls me close, it’s like none of our problems exist. He presses his lips against mine. We sink into the passion for blissful moments, then his cell phone rings.
He steps back, cold and distant again. “That’ll be the team,” he says. “I have to take this. I have to go. I’ll probably be a ghost for a while.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says, sighing. “Whatever it takes to protect you.”
“No, Jack,” I say fiercely. “You focus on your company. I’ll focus on mine.”
“I’m not sure I can do that, baby,” he says, and it sounds realer this time, more intimate. His cell phone keeps blaring.
“You have to try. If we’re ever going to have a future.”
“Do you still think there’s a chance?” he asks gruffly.
“Don’t you?” I reply, hurt.
He surges forward, kisses me again. I throw my arms around him, hold tight, wishing it were as simple as just this.
“Of course I do,” he groans passionately. “Even if it means burning my company to the ground.”
“Don’t say that,” I hiss. “I can’t make that same promise.”
He steps back, jaw clenched tighter than I’ve ever seen it. Which is saying a lot. “Call me if you need anything,” he says. “Otherwise, I’ll be in some meeting somewhere. We still need to hit our creative deadline for the Cove too.”
“You can do it,” I whisper, voice breaking.
“I hope you’re right.”
He answers his phone, turns, and strides out of my apartment.
I wrap my arms around my middle, feeling lonely. I’ve been alone for a long time, but I’ve never felt this way before. It’s hypocritical, maybe, because I’m the one who told him I need to handle this by myself.
I turn and find the nearest picture of Noah, a framed photo on the wall of him, Mara, and me, standing beside a glistening lake. “Can I do this?” I murmur.