Chapter 9
OSCAR
The pounding in my head matches the rhythm of my heart — steady, relentless, and utterly painful.
I roll over in bed, squinting against the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom.
A bird chirps on a branch outside, and if the window were open, I would throw a pillow at it.
"Fuck," I groan, pressing my palms against my temples.
Last night's events come rushing back. The party. Alice. Her words cutting through me like glass.
"You can’t stop thinking about work, can you?”
I'd stayed up after everyone left, drowning myself in expensive scotch, as if the burning sensation down my throat could somehow cauterize the wound her words had left.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it, wincing at the bright screen. A calendar reminder: Team Building Event, 9:00 AM, Laser Hut.
"Perfect," I mutter, dragging myself to a sitting position.
This team building was my idea, but now that we’re here the last thing I want today is to play at some laser tag facility. But I'm the boss now, the face of the company. And that means showing up, hangover and all.
By the time I make it downstairs to the breakfast nook, Ramona, my housekeeper, has breakfast waiting, and the smell of coffee is both nauseating and essential.
"Rough night, Mr. Glynn?" she asks, setting down a plate of avocado toast and eggs.
"Something like that," I reply, managing a weak smile.
Ramona’s been with me for five years now, since I bought this house to get away from the city. She's seen me through countless late nights and early mornings, boardroom victories and personal defeats. Sad to say, my housekeeper/cook might be the person who knows me best.
Which is something I try not to think too much about… because that might mean I don’t really have any friends.
"Advil's already on your plate, sir. And I made the coffee extra strong."
I swallow the pills with a gulp of water. "You're a lifesaver."
"That's what you pay me for," she says with a wink before disappearing into the kitchen, already humming a tune.
I force down half the breakfast and drink the coffee black, letting the bitterness match my mood. By 9:30, I'm in my car, navigating into Seattle traffic, sunglasses shielding my sensitive eyes from the unusually bright day.
Laser Hut is a massive warehouse converted into a neon-lit playground, the kind of place that I’ve never been to, but that I’ve heard is perfect for events like this. As I pull into the parking lot, I spot groups of Rooted Pantry employees already gathering outside, the mood light and cheery.
And there, among them… is Alice.
Even with my brain pounding against my skull, my eyes find her like a compass finding north.
She's wearing dark jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.
And that laugh… her whole face is lit up as she giggles at something Sydney just said…
until she sees me, and the smile drops right off.
She turns away deliberately, breaking eye contact as if I'm not worth acknowledging.
Fine. Two can play that game.
Pasting on my best Team Leader smile, I approach the group. "Good morning, everyone! Ready for some friendly competition?"
My greeting is met with a chorus of responses, some enthusiastic, some obligatory. Alice says nothing.
Inside, the facility manager gives us a rundown of the rules. We'll be split into two teams, red and blue, each with its own base to defend. The goal is to tag opponents and capture their base. Simple enough.
"All right, let's divide up," Cole says, taking charge. He's always been good at these team dynamics things, which is why I brought him along. "We'll need two team captains. Oscar, obviously you'll be one."
Before I can object, Sydney pipes up. "And Alice should be the other! She's been with Rooted Pantry since the beginning."
There's a murmur of agreement. Alice nods, stepping forward to stand opposite me. Her eyes finally meet mine, and there's a challenge in them that makes my blood heat despite my hangover.
"Great," I say, keeping my voice even. "Ladies first. Pick your team, Alice."
She doesn't hesitate. "Sydney."
One by one, we select team members. I choose Cole first, then our picks alternate until everyone is selected. Throughout the process, Alice maintains an air of casual indifference, as if this is just another day to her.
With the teams finalized, we're ushered into separate rooms to gear up. The vests are heavy, with sensors on the front, back, and shoulders, and the laser guns are bulkier than I expected, with digital displays showing ammunition and health status.
"So, what's our strategy, boss?" Cole asks as he adjusts his vest.
I check my gun's sights. "Divide and conquer. You take half the team to flank their base. I'll lead the rest for a frontal assault."
The arena is a maze of black walls, neon paint, and fog machines, with pulsing electronic music adding to the sensory overload. My head is still throbbing, but adrenaline is starting to cut through the pain as we take our positions.
A countdown appears on screens throughout the arena: 10, 9, 8…
I take a deep breath, focusing on the game ahead. This isn't about Alice. It's about showing these employees that I can be one of them, that I'm not just some cold, calculating billionaire like Little Ms. Perfect thinks I am.
3, 2, 1…
A horn blares, and chaos erupts. My team scatters according to plan, with Cole leading his group left while I take mine right. I duck behind a barricade, peering over to scout the terrain ahead.
Two blue team members dash across my line of sight. I fire twice, hitting one squarely in the chest. Their vest lights up and emits a defeated sound as they throw their hands up in frustration.
For the next few minutes, I lose myself in the game.
The hangover fades to background noise as I navigate the course, taking down opponents and narrowly avoiding being hit myself.
It's exhilarating in a way that boardroom conquests rarely are anymore — immediate, physical, with clear winners and losers.
Then I spot her.
Alice is crouched behind a glowing barrier about twenty feet away, her back to me as she scans in the opposite direction. It's the perfect shot — she's completely exposed from this angle.
But I hesitate, and in that moment, she turns, somehow sensing my presence. Our eyes lock through the fog.
Without warning, she fires, the beam just missing me as I dive for cover, sending a shot her way in the process.
She laughs out loud. “Makes sense you’re such a terrible shot!”
I feel a flare of anger. “I have skills that make up for it!”
She laughs again, a sharp, cutting sound. "What? Ducking out when things get hard? Swooping in when others have done all the work?”
I circle around, trying to flank her position, but she's already moving. We engage in a deadly dance through the arena, firing and dodging, both of us refusing to be the one who retreats.
"You know what your problem is, Oscar?" she shouts as we exchange fire across a narrow corridor. "You think everything can be bought!"
I duck as her shot whizzes over my head. "And you think everything revolves around your hurt feelings! News flash – not everything is about you, Alice."
It’s a low blow, but I don’t care. Right now, all that matters is making her eat her words.
She emerges from behind a pillar, firing rapidly. I roll to the side, coming up on one knee to return fire. "If you didn’t believe in our startup, you could have just said so!”
Is that what she really thinks? That I left her just for a job? Not because her rejection broke my heart in two, and there was no going back from the line I’d crossed?
I had to leave Organic Now – and her life – because I couldn’t stand the thought of being close to her and never truly having her. I’ve always assumed that was obvious.
"I walked away because I was trying to set us both up for success!" I shout, but it’s only a half truth. I still can’t bring myself to admit how much her rejection crushed me.
"Bullshit!" She's moving closer now, her vest illuminated by the neon lights, making her an easy target… but I can't seem to pull the trigger. "You only care about yourself."
She fires another shot, but then realizes she’s gotten too close. Turning tail, she starts running, weaving between obstacles, firing wildly over her shoulder. I chase after her, forgetting the game, forgetting the other players, forgetting everything except the need to make her understand.
"Stop running away from this!" I shout.
"I'm not the one who runs, Oscar! That's always been you!"
She's moving too fast, breaking the clearly stated rule about no running. The floor is slick with artificial fog, and the lighting makes depth perception tricky. I see it happening before I can warn her — her foot catches on an uneven section of flooring, and she goes down hard.
The sound she makes — a sharp, pained cry — cuts through all the noise and chaos of the game.
I'm at her side in an instant, kneeling beside her. "Alice? Are you okay?"
She's clutching her ankle, her face contorted in pain. "Do I look okay to you?"
The music continues to pound around us, but players from both teams have started to notice that something's wrong. Sydney pushes through the gathering crowd.
"What happened?" she demands, glaring at me accusingly.
"She fell," I say, my hands hovering uselessly above Alice's injury. "She was running and—"
"I slipped," Alice interrupts, her voice tight. "It wasn't his fault."
I'm surprised by her defense, but there's no time to dwell on it. "Can you stand?"
She attempts to put weight on her foot and winces. "Not really."
“Come on.” I slip my arm around her so that she can lean into me. “I’ll take you to urgent care.”
“I can drive.”
That makes me snort. “God, you’re headstrong.”
“I almost had you, though,” she gasps as she limps her way to the exit.
“Yeah, you almost did,” I answer, deciding to at least give her that one.