Chapter 12
JACKSON
Iwalk through the dimly lit, large function hall.
Everyone stands around with an air of anticipation.
It’s just thirty minutes until the door opens and the guests come filing in.
Industry leaders, video game journalists, photographers, and streamers.
I’m aching just thinking about seeing her in person.
Work has kept me away from the game and mostly away from her streams. Five days of seventeen-hour shifts, grinding until my eyes feel like they’re bleeding.
And now I’m here, with a chance to relax.
I sip a beer and remind myself to play this cool.
I have to speak to everyone, when all I really want is to make a beeline for Dakota and carry her out of here.
One wrong picture…
Elena Voss approaches me. I offer her a smile, hoping she believed me when I said I’m going to make things right concerning her promotion. I can’t blame her for seeming less chirpy than usual.
“I’ve just got a call from the limo company we contract with,” she says. “Are we confirming that they’re picking up…” She glances at her phone. “Dakota Vale? She’s a streamer, I believe.”
Dammit. I called them myself because I wanted to avoid this.
“That’s correct,” I say.
“But not for any other streamers?”
“They all arranged their own travel,” I reply, waving a hand. “Is there anything else?”
“No… sir.”
Sipping my beer some more, I walk to a nearby booth and sit in front of a giant screen playing some early footage from the new underwater dungeon on a loop. Elena can’t know anything just from that. And even if she did, she wouldn’t do anything with that information.
Would she?
My father said something ugly once yet true about my mother. “She built a house of cards in her mind, son. I should’ve seen how unstable it was. I should’ve known it would tear a hole through our lives when it fell down.”
I get the same feeling now. Just waiting…
But when my phone vibrates, my worries sink away. I’m glad now I gave her my cell phone number.
Dakota: A limo company just called me saying they’ll be here in five! Was this you?
Jack: I hope no one else is sending my favorite streamer limos.
Dakota: You’re crazy, Jack.
Jack: I am. And I’m going crazier thinking of you in that dress. Did I make a good choice?
Dakota: Did you choose it yourself?
Jack:
Jack: You don’t need to be so shocked.
Dakota: It’s beautiful. Seriously. And it touched me.
Jack: Let me see then.
Dakota: Can’t you wait?
Jack: I’m done waiting for you.
I text, heart pounding hard.
A minute later, a photo arrives. My breath actually catches in my throat. I stare in awe at the picture. She’s standing in front of her bedroom mirror, one foot angled to emphasize her leg, the dress hugging her perfectly.
It’s an emerald-green color, the same as the Cove, with small, silver scale like beading interwoven into the fabric. It looks even more gorgeous on her than I knew it would. Her face is bright and vivacious, framed in subtle makeup that brings out her natural perfection.
Jack: You look devastatingly beautiful. It’s going to take everything I have to keep my hands off you.
Dakota: I’m just waiting for Jackson Cross to look at me and have no idea who I am.
I grit my teeth. I can’t blame her for this. We haven’t spoken on the phone. Haven’t had a voice chat. It’s like I’ve been trying to keep the two worlds separate. By changing an entire event just for her and mentioning her name in a public announcement…
Maybe I’ve just fallen. Hard. Maybe this is what it’s like.
I quickly snap a selfie, raising my beer in a toast, then send it to her.
Dakota: I’ll have to have some champagne in the limo to catch up.
Jack: As long as you don’t blame our bad decisions on the liquor.
Dakota: There will not be any poor decisions tonight. Only good ones.
Jack: Does that mean you want me on my best behavior?
Dakota: Hell no. It means I refuse to feel guilty about any of this.
Jack: I love that energy. Now, show me that ass in the dress. I want to see how the fabric hugs your hips.
Dakota: I kind of like it when you’re bossy. Just don’t get used to it.
The photo arrives. Okay. This was a mistake.
Heat goes straight to my cock. I go rock-hard in what must be record time. Her back is arched in the picture, looking over her shoulder at the camera. The thick globes of her ass shape the fabric.
Jack: I chose that material because it’s light. I knew it would settle like that on your curvy, flawless figure. I’m getting hard right now, Dakota, in the middle of the expo.
Dakota: It won’t be long until you see me in person, baby. My limo has arrived!
Jack: See you soon, beautiful.
Once I send the text, I feel someone hovering over me. It’s Pete. He’s got a frown on his face, and his eyes look huge through his horn-rimmed glasses. I get the feeling he’s analyzing me.
“Are you drunk?” he asks after a moment.
“I’ve had half a beer,” I tell him.
“You’re smiling.”
I roll my eyes. “Is that a cause for concern?”
“You’re normally stressing worried that the event won’t go well.”
“The event will go well, or it won’t,” I say. “Everything is in place. Stressing won’t make a difference now.”
“Very enlightened,” Pete mutters.
“Ease up on the sarcasm,” I say, standing. “Today is a good day, and that’s all there is to it. Not everything has to be a meltdown.”
I feel barely here as I speak to the CEO of the biggest graphics card manufacturer in the world.
We’ve got a good rapport and always have productive discussions, and I do my best. But I’ve got one eye on the door, looking past the circulating waiters, the streamers, the business types, waiting for her to arrive.
When she finally walks in, I let out a croaking sound. I mutter, “Holy shit.” Bryan, the CEO, tilts his head at me.
“Just had an idea,” I say quickly. “Sorry. Do you mind if I write it down?”
He grins. That’s my get-out-of-jail-free card anytime I want to wind a conversation down. I play the tortured creative, head brimming with ideas, desperate to get them down before they fly away. It helps that, a lot of the time, it’s true.
Dakota takes a glass of champagne from a waiter and looks around the room. Her hair is alive in glistening curls. The dress hugs her in all the right places, the emerald green reflecting the light. She’s like a beacon.
I type on my phone.
Jack: Look at the Emerald Cove booth.
She checks her phone—knowing we were going to text. I made sure the dress had a pocket—then looks up. Her face creases into a smile that makes the whole world brighter. Like I’m a long-lost friend and we’re finally reunited.
Dakota: Are you aware you’re ogling me, Mr. Cross?
I smirk, looking at her again with a shrug.
Jack: You’re right. I need to be more subtle. Let’s ‘meet by accident’ at the dungeon booth in five.
Dakota: Sounds like a plan.
I do my best to act normally as I circulate for ten minutes.
Everybody wants my attention, to show me this or that, to sell me that and this.
I nod in all the right places, making the right noises of affirmation.
But always, I’ve got one eye straying, searching.
Whenever I catch a glimpse of Dakota, her glorious smile, or hear her magnetic laugh, I want to charge right at her and sweep her into my arms.
Finally, the ten minutes are over. I walk up next to her, my shoulder lightly brushing hers. She looks up at me, cheeks flushing. She chews her lip, then turns back to the big screen.
“Hello,” I say. “Ms. Elf.”
She giggles, then replies while turning. “Hello, Mr. Goblin.”
There’s a thick crowd all around us. Dense enough for me to gently brush her side with my hand. She shivers, letting out a gasp that goes straight to my base. We’re playing with fire here, being so public, with so many journalists around.
One photo, and our worlds change forever.
I squeeze her hip, my body burning with heat. She shivers against me, then turns, batting her eyelashes. There’s nothing practiced about it. We’re both caught in the storm.
“Oh, it’s you,” she says, louder now, playing a role. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cross.”
“And you,” I reply. “It’s DakkyDuck, isn’t it?”
She smiles. “Well remembered.”
“I heard you have some opinions about the Cove,” I say. “Perhaps you’d like to share them.”
She folds her arms, squeezing her tits together alluringly. In person, she’s even more attractive. There’s a confident quality in the glimmer of her eyes and her smile that doesn’t fully translate to the screen. “If you think you can handle it.”
I nod, then lead her away from the group to the quietest corner of the expo. On the way, I grab two glasses of champagne. As she takes it from me, our hands brush. Electricity shoots up my arm like a preview of the crackling release we’ll experience the moment we’re alone.
“So, it’s really you,” she says.
“It’s really you,” I groan. “Fucking hell. Look at you, Dakota. I made a mistake with that dress.”
She turns slightly and wiggles her hips from side to side. “You don’t like it?”
“Look down—and you’ll see how much I like it.”
She glances down, then gasps. “Jack!” she exclaims, then covers her mouth with her hand. “You need to relax.”
I smile tightly. “Believe me, I’m trying.”
I knew she was hot, obviously, but being physically close is something else entirely. It’s her scent too. Perfume, or maybe just her.
“That’s right, don’t look at me,” she murmurs, voice breathy. “Or you’ll think about the Cove. About what we did there. You’ll think about doing it in real life.”
I look into her eyes, the empowered glee there. “You’re torturing me.”
She laughs. “Maybe just a little. Don’t worry. It’s difficult for me too.”
“Yeah, but is it hard for you?”
My cock twitches. I might have to flip it up into my waistband if I can’t calm the hell down.
“This is weird,” she murmurs. “It’s like meeting a stranger… but also not.”
“I know what you mean,” I agree. “Kissing you would feel so natural right now.”
She bites her lip, eyes flitting around. “You can’t, can you?”
In my head, I step forward, pull her into my arms, crush her with a kiss, and don’t give a damn what people say or think. Let them believe I’m using my power to get her, that she’s only with me because of my position and my cash.
And I would, in a heartbeat, if I didn’t have all my employees to consider. One wrong move—even if it’s the right one to me, to us—could change everything.
“I want to so badly. You’re the most beautiful woman in here.”
Dakota looks around, shaking her head. “Some of these women could be on the runway.”
“And I’ve told you before, that’s because standards are fucked. You’re the only angel here, Dakota, don’t forget it.”
She looks so seductive as she twists her hair around her finger, taking a small sip of champagne at the same time. It’s even more magnetic because I know she’s not playing me. She’s real all the way through.
“Maybe I don’t want to be an angel tonight,” she murmurs, looking me directly in the eyes. “Maybe I want to be… the opposite.”
I swallow, fists clenched at my sides. But not in rage, not in a tennis-ball-destroying tantrum. This is pure lust. Pure hunger.
“I wish I could snap my fingers and pause this entire room.”
“Like Professor X in The Last Stand?” She shoots back.
I step closer. Cock still rock-hard, heart pounding like it’s trying to jump out of my chest. “I don’t know what’s hotter. That you used that reference, or that you used the movie’s proper name.”
She grins vivaciously. “I think we’d have to get to the Cove to figure out what’s really hot.”
“How about the closest we can get right now?” I say, nodding down the corridor.
She frowns. Have I offended her? She doesn’t want a quick tussle in some hidden room in an event hall. She deserves more than that. She deserves silk sheets in a penthouse suite, room service on demand, and all the time in the world to let our pleasure flow.
But no—she’s looking behind me.
I turn.
Dammit.
It’s one of those women my Dakota refers to as supermodels, as though long legs and appetite control have anything on her curves. This is Crystal Sagar, one of my biggest shareholders, who always takes any opportunity to remind me she’s my boss, as she once put it.
She strides toward us, champagne flute held high, head tipped back as though preemptively turning her nose up at us.