Good Game_A Gamer Romance Page 16

  “I’m not dating Jack because he’s… ‘loaded,’ as you put it.”

  “C’mon,” he drawled loudly, as if there could be no other conceivable reason. “You are clearly a smart cookie. And I didn’t know the half of it. You moved in on that territory when nobody else was paying attention and staked your claim. Good for you.” He said it like she’d won a tournament. Or maybe landed a business deal. It might be the sincerest words she’d ever heard him utter.

  “I am not a gold digger, Mr. Remington,” she said carefully. “Being with Jack has nothing to do with money. I don’t know how to make that any clearer to you.”

  “Yeah, right. Everything has to do with money.” He threw an arm around her, gripping her far shoulder firmly. “Let me tell you about the world, young woman…”

  Vi glanced around. The older man and his eyebrows had gone. There was no one nearby to provide tactful aid.

  Would Jack forgive her if she threw cabernet on his father at the man’s own wedding? And Jack had been worried about making a scene. She scrunched up her shoulders and braced herself for whatever Lawrence was about to say.

  “Jack! I’ve been looking for you!” Olivia’s father popped his head around the large potted palm. He grinned broadly, crazy eyebrows rising. He was a rare sunbeam of sincerity in this hellscape. “Dolores said you’d headed this way.”

  “Oh, hello, Eddie,” said Jack, standing up to shake his hand. “Nice to see you again.” Nice to be able to say that truthfully to at least one person that night.

  But Eddie wasn’t his usual cheery self, his grin quickly fading. “Uh, Jack, I think you might want to know your father has your lovely girlfriend cornered inside by the bar.”

  “Cornered? Wait, you met Violet?” Jack raised his eyebrows.

  “Not exactly. But Olivia has told me all about her. So lovely to meet young people achieving great things in STEM.”

  Jack stared only for a second before he managed, “Yes, she’s really something special.”

  “Just delightful. And Olivia is excited to be making some friends around town. Thanks for your help with that, son.”

  “Oh, I’m not sure I’ve helped that much.” It was all he could do not to wince—or face-palm—from the guilt.

  “You introduced her to Violet and through her, she’s met loads of other girls. And she’s quite happy too. Oh, don’t worry about that dinner thing. Livvie told me afterward you already had a girlfriend. She was so embarrassed.”

  Jack shut his mouth, realizing it was hanging open. “You, uh… you two seem very close.”

  “Oh, yes. That was an incredibly awkward situation, eh?”

  “Yeah… Violet and I haven’t been dating long. Not sure my dad was… used to the idea yet.” He had much harsher words for Lawrence, but he didn’t want to use them for everyone’s sake.

  “Anyway, before you go save her from your father, I have one more thing. If you don’t mind a brief delay.”

  “Uh…” He hesitated. What was Lawrence saying—or doing—to make Eddie alarmed? But Jack would have been sitting here without doing anything if Eddie hadn’t come and alerted him, so he could probably spare one more minute. Besides, they were in the middle of the ballroom. How wrong could that go? “Sure. Vi’s tough, I’m sure she can handle my father for a minute or two.”

  Eddie smiled wide, jovial again. “Your father mentioned you have a company yourself.”

  “He did?”

  “Sort of, yes. Possibly unintentionally, but yes.”

  Jack frowned. What the hell did that mean? “Unintentionally?”

  “I just overheard him mention it to Violet.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “Uh, yes, I do. Sentinel Media.”

  “And what do you do exactly?”

  “I do a lot of video work. Product reviews, community building, content creation. Mostly in the gaming and fitness space.”

  Eddie rubbed his palms together like a kid eying a Thanksgiving turkey still in the oven. “That makes perfect sense. I did some reading after our last meeting about some of the topics you mentioned. But when I quizzed Lawrence’s team on their video marketing strategy, I got little more than blank looks. I figured you were part of the team, you know. I’m sure you must be close.”

  Jack swallowed. “We are, uh, not as close as you and Olivia, let’s just say. It’s complicated.”

  “Well, that’s none of my business. But my business is getting kids to hear about my products.” Eddie grinned.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t quite follow.”

  “How would you like to do a video marketing campaign for my courses? Or whatever video approach you think would be best. Like what you mentioned at the happy hour.”

  Jack glanced back toward the ballroom. “But what about—”

  Eddie waved at the air. “I’ll toss them some morsel. I wouldn’t want to put you at odds with your father.” Jack almost laughed out loud at that one. “But they’re as stodgy and stuck in their ways as I am. We need new ideas. Oh, maybe they can think up a few process improvements for the development team. But to tell you the truth, I don’t think they’ve got what it takes to really reach kids and intrigue them.”

  “And you think I do?”

  “Yes. I’m willing to bet on it.”

  “Because Mentos?”

  “And Coke, yes. And my Livvie dug up your channels after Violet explained about your career. I had no idea e-sports had become so lucrative. Nice production quality, even if it’s a different subject matter. But I hadn’t realized you had your own organization until tonight.”

  Jack blinked, his mouth hanging open. He’d gotten the job Lawrence had been trying to get? Without trying? With Violet and Olivia’s help?

  “Will you at least consider it?” Eddie said, starting to look worried.

  “Yes. I mean—of course. I’ll do it. No problem. I’d love to.”

  “Great. Send me a proposal. And now you should probably go see about Violet.”

  Violet was debating whether to go with a stomp to the instep or an elbow to the solar plexus when Lawrence stopped his ranting abruptly.

  His eyes had narrowed like a hawk’s. She followed his gaze.

  Near a table of cookies, cakes, and pies, the nice-looking old man with the eyebrows was pouring himself a coffee now.

  “One more thing about the world, Violet,” said Lawrence as he downed the remainder of his drink and slammed it on top of the bar. Vi blinked in shock that he’d actually used her name. Or remembered it. What the holy hell? “ABC. Always. Be. Closing.”

  “Uh…” She didn’t know what to say to that.

  Turned out it didn’t matter. Lawrence had loosed his death grip on her shoulder and was sauntering off toward the coffee table. “Eddie!”

  “Hey.”

  She swiveled at Jack’s voice and brightened. “Hey! I’m so glad to see you. Your dad has been busy congratulating me on what a brilliant gold digger I am, like I landed a million-dollar business deal.”

  The creases in his forehead only deepened. He put a hand over his forehead. “Sorry.”

  “He’s also been advising me on the ways of the world.” She took another long drink.

  He met her gaze, caught somewhere between a frown and a grimace.

  “Where did he get the idea that money is the only thing that matters, for God’s sake?”

  “You know, it’s not polite to talk badly about a man at his own wedding,” a cold-as-ice-voice said beside her.

  Violet froze, her cheeks suddenly hot as an oven.

  Janet, smiling sweetly, took up the spot between Jack and Vi, making a little semicircle out of them. As if they were talking together.

  “Janet,” said Jack, his tone even colder than his stepmother’s. The severity of his tone surprised her.

  “Especially when the groom seems to have suddenly taken an interest in treating you like a member of the family,” Janet mused. She took a casual sip of wine.

  “Is that what that was?”
Vi blurted.

  “Sounds about right, actually,” said Jack.

  Violet covered her forehead and glasses for a moment with her hand. These people.

  “You know, he got the idea from his grandfather.”

  Violet dropped her hand. “What idea?”

  “The idea that money is the only thing that matters,” Janet said casually. “Seems his grandfather was very serious about his children having jobs. As young as possible. And as lucrative as possible. Otherwise they wouldn’t be adequately contributing to the family.”

  “His grandfather raised him,” Jack put in.

  Violet frowned. “Let me guess. He was never quite contributing enough.”

  “Hmm,” agreed Janet. “Still isn’t, I believe.”

  Jack winced.

  “He’s quite successful, I’m sure—” Violet started.

  “Well, you see he’s counting the contributions of his progeny now.” Janet shrugged, as if nothing could be done.

  “His progeny? What is this, Biblical times? Y’all need to get with the program.” Oh God, her backwoods accent was slipping out. She needed to calm down. “They’re not progeny, they’re people. With their own goals and dreams and needs. Even Frank.” Much as he might seem subhuman at times.

  Janet frowned slightly at her. “Some people put family above themselves,” she said almost gently.

  Jack’s face went slack. He glanced off to the side, at the floor. Violet’s heart pounded in her chest, and she wished she could rush to him, pull him away from these people, this place.

  “I’m not sure I agree,” said Janet. “But you asked.”

  “Asked what?” said Jack.

  “What made him think that money is all that matters. I’m not agreeing, I’m just explaining why he is that way. Of course, I know from the outside it all seems like greed. Perhaps it is a little. He’s very ambitious. But I really think it’s always been his concern for his family and their security at its heart.”

  Violet’s mouth fell open. Concern for his family? Concern for them? With the way he treated them? She wanted to choke. Maybe it was even true—but how misguided was that? She didn’t want to criticize a man at his own wedding any more than she already had—or the bride for that matter—or make a scene.

  But she also couldn’t stand to watch Jack crumbling right in front of her.

  “Concern? Concern? If he were really concerned about his sons, then he’d know a thing or two about them. Want them to date and marry people who made them happy. He’d care about their dreams, their passions, their struggles, and their goals, not just their fucking earning potential.”

  Jack’s eyes bored into her, but she kept her gaze trained on Janet, whose face was a mask.

  “Spoken like… a young lady without a job.”

  Lawrence was right behind her, slurred words and all, wasn’t he? Jack’s eyes flicked up, then back down to her, confirming it. So much for not making a scene. Violet’s heart pounded in her ears, her nails digging into her palms.

  “It’s not his fault—” Janet started.

  “What’s not m’ fault?” said Lawrence.

  Violet took a long drink of her cab and sat it down on the bar, steeling herself. She stepped aside, closer to Jack, keeping Janet and Lawrence both in view. She reached out, grabbed Jack’s hand, and raised her chin indignantly. She opened her mouth to speak.

  But Jack spoke first.

  “Actually, for your information, Lawrence, Violet has the potential to out earn all of us, not that that matters to me. She may not fit your predetermined mold for success. I sure as hell don’t. But that’s your problem, not ours. Maybe you need a new mold.”

  Lawrence’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Do you realize I’m on my second career already, and you never even paid attention to the first one?”

  Lawrence’s jaw tightened. “You’re only twenty-six—”

  “At least you’re keeping track of that. You want to be concerned for me? Stop expecting me to do what you want, and support me in doing what I love. I’m going to do it anyway, with or without you. Like Mom should have.”

  At that, Lawrence’s face paled, the frown fading.

  “Congratulations on your marriage,” Jack said softly. “I hope it makes you happy. That would be a first.”

  And then he turned and pulled her away from them, his grip a steel vise on her hand, out of the ballroom. And out of the hotel.

  Chapter 10

  On the drive home, Jack was uncharacteristically quiet.

  Not just quiet. A deep, pensive silence filled the car. Her nerves jangled around in her stomach with the beef Wellington and too much cabernet.

  “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, trying to look casual.

  A few more exits on the highway passed by.

  “Sorry if I made a scene,” she said gently. “I know you didn’t want to.”

  He shook his head. “If anyone did, it was me.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “It’s fine.”

  She didn’t believe him. “It is, but what about you—are you fine?”

  For the first time, he hesitated. “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.” He seemed to grope for some kind of response but eventually gave up.

  She squeezed his hand, unsure what more she could say to soothe him.

  Back at his place, she headed upstairs where she’d left her bag to get out of her dress. He didn’t follow.

  She heard the downstairs bathroom door close, so she tried to shrug it off. But tension knotted in her shoulders. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Was it what she’d said? All the nonsense? Had she freaked him out with all her counting of chickens before they’d hatched? He couldn’t have noticed, could he?

  She hit the bathroom herself. The pale-blue-and-white sanctuary just off his master was feeling more and more familiar—and way better than her own bathroom these days. She stripped off the dress and debated whether to pull on just a robe, her pajamas, or jeans. Maybe pajamas. He couldn’t want to go out, right? But she’d left them in her bag on the bed.

  Stepping back into his room, she jumped when she spotted him.

  The master bedroom was hidden in darkness. He sat on the bed, only a faint glow from the bathroom behind her playing across his features. The tie was gone, the shirt unbuttoned slightly. The sheets of the bed had been pulled down. She stared for a moment, feeling a little self-conscious in just her underwear.

  He stared back, his eyes lingering on her face before slipping downward.

  He rose and strode over, and relief swept through her for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

  Differently this time, though.

  She tucked her face against his neck, breathing in his wood-and-leather smell. The scrape of his stubble along her temple stirred her, rough and energizing. Exhilarating. She kissed his neck gently along his collarbone, then growing bolder, she nipped at him.

  He didn’t move for a long moment. Desperation hung about him, a sadness guiding the way he clung to her. Like she was some kind of lifeline. Like he needed her, and not just in his bed.

  She raised her face to his. Without warning, his lips seized hers.

  In a sudden rush, he clawed at her bra straps, yanking them down as she shoved the jacket off his shoulders. He let go of her only for a second to fling it aside.

  She targeted the remaining buttons of his shirt even as her bra lost the battle and fell, landing softly against her toes. He chucked his shirt aside, then his undershirt, then he grabbed her shoulders and steered her toward the bed.

  His directness made a smile prick at the corners of her mouth, but she stifled it. The tension that had built all evening was still there, tightened now to the point of breaking. Her body sensed both the ache in him and the way to ease it.

  He pushed her to sit at the bed’s edge. She r
eached for his fly, but he was already there. He jutted his chin. Get in, he silently commanded.

  She scooted in over sheets much softer than hers had ever been and slipped off her underwear. She bit her lip as she watched him liberate himself from the remaining pieces of his tux, his body ready and coiled tight with tension. And then he was beside her, against her, no—over her.

  His mouth met hers again, more insistent this time, his tongue driving deep, probing, pushing her to tell him to ease up, slow down, take it easy.

  She didn’t. She wrapped one arm around his neck and kept him close.

  He was propped up on one elbow, fencing her partially in. His other hand slid down her body to grip her hip, urging her closer. As if he couldn’t get her quite close enough. As if he feared she’d slip away. His hand slid around and cupped her ass now, holding her against him.

  “I’m here,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s okay.”

  His fingers squeezed her once, acknowledging as he slid his tongue back into her mouth. His hard-on prodded her thigh, demanding attention.

  She squirmed and wrapped her legs around his hips. She dove her hand down between them and stroked him, hard and hot in her fingers, aching and straining for release. Centering him against her heat, she squeezed her legs, urging him on.

  He broke away for a moment, staring into her eyes. He eased a slight bit further into her, then stopped and reached for the end table.

  She caught his hand. “I’m on the pill.”

  He raised an eyebrow, then frowned. He dropped his forehead gently to meet hers.

  “I wanna feel the real you in me, Jack,” she whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

  That slight urging was all it took. He surged into her. His back tensed, and his eyes snapped shut, lost in his own thoughts. Watching him was almost more stimulating than the pressure of him inside her, filling her, sliding gently out. Less slippery without the lube of the condom. Only her own slickness easing their movements now.

  His mouth retook hers as he thrust again, plunging inside her. His body shook with barely contained pressure, all the tension of the night and more built up inside him. He drove further in, again and again, but he was holding back.