Page 34 of Boss Level

“I can’t eat.” I told him.

He unwrapped the egg sandwich and sat it in front of me. “You can. Don’t test me.”

I complied because I didn’t have anything to do besides wait for news. Feeling useless was the worst feeling.

Xander tapped a foot rather than sitting. “I’ll run interference for you with the other partners. You do what you need to here, and don’t worry about anything else.”

I gave him the closest thing to a grateful smile that I could manage, and it came out more like a grimace. “Thank you.”

Over the years, I’d kept my basic coding skills intact, but I wasn’t up to the level they needed to bring the game back online. Instead, I stayed on site. Helped them test things as they fixed them. Did for my devs what Xander had done for me and made sure they ate.

I’d be here until my game—our game—came back online.

When it did, sometime after midnight, exhaustion tempered my relief.

When I got back to my hotel, of course I was the only one in my room, but that didn’t stop disappointment from joining the tiredness that penetrated every inch of me. Housekeeping had been here while I worked, and the sheets smelled clean instead of like a mix of Xander and Dominic’s colognes.

Not that I had the energy to ponder any of it. I curled up, silenced the ache at the loss of that feeling of safety from a day ago, and passed out.

In the morning, I was up as early as ever. I was too old for late nights and early mornings, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to fall back asleep.

A quick check of my messages showed the game was online. I needed coffee. A lot of it. A short while later, I returned from my journey of retrieving massive amounts of caffeine.

Now what?

I was zombie-ing my way through the lower priority emails I’d ignored for the last few days, when the alerts I had associated with the company name, with Elliot’s and Link’s names, started coming in hard and fast. Clicking through the links, I pulled up pictures of the two of them with Fallyn, in the hotel parking garage, Friday night after the masquerade.

“What have you done, Elliot?” I muttered at a room that wouldn’t reply.

Fortunately the photos weren’t damning. The three of them were talking. Industry professionals having a conversation in the same place an industry event was happening. When Dustin’s official statement from our company came through, it said pretty much the same.

Good. Crisis averted.

I had time to breathe and finish my first coffee when my phone started having fits again.

Oh. Fuck me. These were chat logs from our game. The anonymous leaker claimed they were between Elliot, Link, and Fallyn.

I had no idea if she was Demon Kittie, but I knew their characters.

Fuck, Elliot. These conversations were explicit. And they were pretty irrefutable proof that he was hitting on someone who worked for him. My lead developer. One of our key investors. Breaking some serious non-fraternization rules, and possibly worse.

I knew this was coming, and I chose to look the other way. It was easier to pretend they’d stopped. I couldn’t ignore it now.

When Xander called, I answered immediately.

“Is this what it looks like?” he asked.

I so desperately wanted to sayno. It’s nothing. “Yes.”

“All of the partners are freaking out over the legal implications of this.”

Of course they were. They didn’t care that the game had a potential massive security flaw. They cared about their image. Before I could give him an answer, one call tried to ring through and then another. From Scott McAllister and Grant Lent—our other two big investors and board members.

Dustin was incredible at PR. He could deal with almost any disruption, but this…

I had to get ahead of this. “I’m calling a board meeting for tomorrow,” I said to Xander. “AcesPlayed offices. I’ll call the others.”

“What’s the goal?” Xander asked.

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