Page 25 of The Innovator

I passed a mirror on the wall and stared at my unrecognizable self. Though the person staring back looked the same, I felt different.

I was lost somewhere, and I was trying to find my way back. The journey had made me angry at the world—and at myself. But recently, I’d found an unexpected spark in the darkness. The beam of sunlight peeking through the clouds, calling me, enticing me.

Natalie Chapelle had piqued my interest, making me forget my issues momentarily.

She triggered something in me, and I wanted to find out what it was.

The sensors turned on the recess lights as I made my way through the hallway into my kitchen. I loved the open floor plan, which represented possibilities rather than restriction. I used to prefer a lot of lights because they enhanced the interiors of my space. These days, I didn’t care for them. The darkness became my salvation, and I didn’t mind dwelling in it.

My phone rang and startled me. I fished it from my back pocket and sighed at Gisele’s number.

“She should move on,” I said out loud, ignoring her.

Shrugging off my suit jacket, I draped it over the office chair.

My agenda for the day had been to get home to work on WaterFyre Rising and let the outside world crumble. It took too much energy to care and things could backfire unexpectedly. I didn’t want to waste my energy.

WaterFyre Rising gave me hope. My friends and I had been working diligently on each level of the game—a distinctive world that represented the creator. Remington had finished the demo for Level One, and Royce completed his demo for Level Two. Once the demos for all the levels were done, we could see the overall universe connecting the various worlds. From there, we could tweak it before moving it forward. This video game had been a passion birthed when I was a teenager, hanging out with my friends. We’d been young boys with big dreams.

That dream had helped groom me into a man, even if that man had been stalling for over the past year. I’d been cruising along, living a successful life until one incident destroyed my world. In video games, that event was the turning point when the hero had to decide whether to fight or surrender.

I did neither.

That infuriated me. How could I let one event have this much control over me? But then again, reality was no video game.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I walked over to the bar, filled the shaker with ice, added vodka and vermouth, and stirred. Unlike the British spy who preferred his martini shaken, I liked mine stirred. Shaking it risked the dilution of the vodka and changing the temperature by a few degrees. Everyone knew a perfect martini was best served at a chill twenty-eight degrees.

Right now, I needed that exact chill to diminish the fire in me. It wasn’t a huge fire, but it could be if I didn’t put it out now. That was my method these days: squash anything that disrupted my day.

Except for this flame for Natalie. She was the exception.

I slid into my bar, enjoying my drink and my solitude. Glancing around my bar, which was on the side of my spacious kitchen, I evaluated my situation—the past, present, and future.

My internal infrastructure had been shattered. For me to feel again, I had to find those pieces and start rebuilding myself. Where were those missing pieces?

Searching required too much energy, time, and motivation. It was easier to just let them be.

Lazy ass.

Lazy wasn’t the appropriate word. Laziness hadn’t described me since elementary school. I worked damn hard. Perhaps the proper word was avoidance.

My body was still tense from my conversation with Natalie earlier in the day, and only escalated when I discovered she had a fiancé. Too wired to rest, I finished my drink and returned to my office to work on Level Three. This had always been an escape from reality for me. The world I had envisioned consisted of sci-fi elements that allowed the players to enter a different dimension through portals. But I’d been stuck on my portal design. Every artist—every creator—encountered this kind of block, and I supposed mine took longer to overcome.

Since I couldn’t move forward with my game tonight, I entertained something else.

Who are you, Natalie Chapelle? Why did you run to Providence? What happened to you and Rafael?

My Google search for Rafael offered interesting information that I’d review later. I was more interested in Natalie because her name came up with nothing. The only social media account she had was on the popular platform ChatNow with the alias Nadda and the name Natalie C. on her profile. There were three images on her page: one of downtown Providence, another of a cloud in the sky, and a third confirming it was her. A picture of a buttercup posted a day ago.

She followed a lot of fashion brands and magazines but had no followers. The profile showed it was only created a few months ago.

Why weren’t there more pictures?

Because she knows you’d be spying on her, you creep.

Natalie was a young professional, and I expected to find more about her. The women from my past allhad accounts on several platforms, showing off pictures of them and me.

Even I had a few social media accounts to keep up with the fast-paced world. Though I wasn’t active on them, I often used the platforms for research. Many of the international design companies and architectural magazines I followed were on social media.

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