Page 37 of Forbidden Game

“How do you feel about today?”

I give her a noncommittal shrug. “I feel fine.”

“It’s your first time on stage,” she reminds me.

I roll my eyes at her before applying moisturizer to my face. “Syd, I’ve attended more red carpets than I can count. I’ve walked for Prada in Milan and given a speech at a royal wedding in Denmark. This is nothing different.”

“If you say so.”

When I look up, I see concern flash in her eyes. She skirts behind me and comes to stand on my right, reaching for her toothbrush.

I don’t try to keep the conversation going. I don’t want to.

I wasn’t lying when I said I felt fine. I do. But I also know that if I really start to think about it, I’ll get in my head. And that’s the last thing I need.

This isn’t the championship; this isn’t the make-or-break event that has my future on the line. But…it’s close. Each of these matches in the upcoming weeks will define how I move forward. I need to win at least three of them. I know I’m one of the best, but I need to prove that I am the best. And I’ve never done anything like this before.

I grab the hairdryer and turn it on high, letting the noise drown out the growing nerves as I style my hair.

I need to get my head in the game.

EIGHT

SYDNEY

“He’s playing well today.” A thick British accent pulls me out of the trance I’ve been in. It’s different from Parker’s, deeper but just as posh. The man who takes a seat in the empty chair next to me keeps his eyes on the stage ahead.

“Of course he is.”

I give the man a once over before dismissing him. I let my gaze travel back to the stage.

Parker is playing a FrozeLine team battle right now, and he is in line for MVP. When I’d entered him into the tournaments initially, I’d focused on only getting him into the speedrun matches so he would be able to qualify for the championship, but Parker didn’t want to just do that.

He wanted to do it all.

The most popular games on the market for competitions are the ones that are big in esports, like Gods League, Kill Strike, VERTEX, and FrozeLine. Out of those, Parker’s strong suit is FrozeLine, which is a first-person shooter MMO. The only issue is that he isn’t on an esports team, so I could only get him in individual matches and the occasional team battle—where he would be teamed up at random with other tournament gamers for the match, like now.

“And that’s another kill for EnglishCoffee,” the male announcer calls over the speaker.

“He could be going for a penta-kill,” the female announcer returns.

“Only a few minutes left. Looks like he’ll get MVP,” the guy next to me muses.

My back straightens as I try to figure out who he might be. I keep my expression neutral, face ahead, as I scan him from the corner of my eye.

He is dressed in a suit, which is out of place in the stadium today. The stubble he sports is purposeful, cut clean around his jaw. If I needed anything else to confirm that this man came from money, when he goes to unbutton his suit jacket, I catch a flash of silver on his wrist. A Chopard watch.

He’s not someone I recognize from the gaming world. He’s not an owner of any of the esports teams here, nor is he part of the C-suite of any of the game dev companies. I have them all memorized like the letters in the alphabet. There’s not a key player I don’t know.

The section I’m sitting in is reserved. Not just anyone can get a seat this close to the stage.

My suspicions rise, and I begin to mentally run through Parker’s known acquaintances. If this isn’t someone connected to The System or EnglishCoffee, they must be here for Parker Covington.

Oh.

“I didn’t think you were a video game enthusiast, Mr. Kelton.”

Jace Kelton turns to look at me with a smile. I’m once again reminded that Parker Covington is somehow always surrounded by freakishly attractive people. The top one percent of Parker’s world are not only filthy rich; they are gifted with the looks to go with it.

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