than twenty seconds, if my memory serves me correctly.”
“I still maintain you cheated.”
Quinn laughed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The room buzzed around them, music mixing with conversation and the sound of laughter. Waiters wove through the crowds carrying silver trays filled with champagne, wine and beer. Quinn hadn’t been to a cocktail party before, and she was surprised that they weren’t actually serving cocktails. Not that she really gravitated to drinks with little umbrellas in them, but still...
“Do you actually know anyone here?” Quinn asked, accepting a glass of red wine from a passing waiter. She sipped and tried not to cringe at the taste; this was so not her style.
“Only the guy who got us added to the list. I recognize a few people. That guy—” Alana pointed to an older man in a gray suit “—he’s the CEO of Strikevision. I’m pretty sure I saw one of the guys from Popstar Games here, as well.”
Quinn nodded. She wasn’t impressed by celebrities or reality TV stars, but put the man responsible for “Saints Row” in front of her and she’d fangirl like a sixteen-year-old at a Justin Bieber concert.
“So why are you here? I don’t buy that it’s just to be my winglady.”
“I’m working on a story,” Alana admitted.
“You lured me here under false pretenses?” Quinn tugged at the hem of her dress again. “And you make me wear this hideously uncomfortable thing. Not cool at all.”
“It’s for a good cause. I got a sneak peek at Third Planet Studios’ plans for the next Galactic Warrior game. It’s the same old bullshit again—strong men saving weak little damsels in distress. I’ve been trying to get an interview with one of the designers to ask why they never have any female protagonists in their games.”
“Let me guess, he doesn’t want to have a bar of your feminist outrage.” Quinn shook her head. “And you want to hang them out to dry.”
“It’s my job.”
Alana ran one of the most prominent gaming news sites on the internet. She’d made a small fortune creating a space for female gamers to convene without judgment or objectification. Despite being called every horrible name under the sun—not to mention constantly battling vitriolic misogyny on every social media platform—Alana was determined to change the gaming industry. Quinn often contributed game reviews and blog posts in her spare time, happy to do anything to support her friend’s business since the issue was close to her heart, too.
“When I have a daughter, I want her to be able to play video games that empower her.” Alana stared out into the crowd, her face set into a mask of determination. “I don’t want her to be treated like a second-class citizen when she goes to a gaming convention.”
“Amen, sister.”
Alana paused, sipping on her champagne. “Is it so bad that I wanted you here for moral support?”
“You could have told me. Besides, I’m not going to be much help. You know you’re the outgoing, pretty one, and I’m the quiet, smart one.” She tried to keep a straight face but it was near impossible. If they weren’t at a professional event, Alana would have socked her in the arm.
“Aside from the fact that we’re both smart, it makes me sad that you undervalue yourself.”
“Please don’t get all Dr. Phil on me,” she groaned. “I wore the goddamn dress. You don’t get any other freebies tonight.”
“I repeat—that dress makes you look hot. I hope you get some.” Alana winked. “Sex is natural and healthy. You deserve to feel good about it again.”
“It’s not that easy.” She swirled her wineglass slowly and watched as the red wine clung to the edges. “What if I can’t find a guy who’s attracted to me?”
“Then the world is full of fucking morons and we may as well give up hope.”
“I love it when you swear. It’s like a Care Bear giving someone the finger.”
Alana’s laughter stopped short as her eyes locked onto someone across the room. Target acquired.
“Aha! A Third Planet designer. I’m going to charm him into talking to me.” She squeezed Quinn’s shoulder. “Then I’m going to take him down.”
Alana walked away, and Quinn stifled a laugh as several men almost gave themselves whiplash trying to keep their eyes on her. She could hardly blame them; Alana was perfect.
All. The. Damn. Time.
At one point it had intimidated Quinn; now it only baffled her. Maybe her friend wasn’t human...
Quinn backed up until something brushed against her leg, making her jump. The tree.
“It’s you and me, old friend,” she said, positive she looked like a nutcase for talking to a plant. “Want to get drunk?”
* * *
AIDEN ODELL EXCUSED himself from a conversation that was quickly heading south. Tinder hookups weren’t something he cared about. Frankly, he didn’t need an app to help him in that area of his life.
Besides, tonight was all about work. Tomorrow would be his first official day at Cobalt & Dane Security and he’d already been assigned a case. The head of Third Planet Studios—an up-and-coming game design company—was about to launch a new project, which up until recently had been kept quiet. But someone was leaking details.
He’d called in a favor to get access to the cocktail party in the hopes of picking up information. And he’d also booked a room at the hotel in case he needed to work into the night.
This was Aiden’s chance to show people what he was made of. Not only that, his best friend—the Dane in Cobalt & Dane—had been asking him to join his team for a year. It would be a turning point for Aiden, a fresh start. He’d be able to work at a place where his expertise was valued. No more handouts because of who his father was; no more free passes or special treatment.
And he was determined to hit the ground running. Success would be his, no matter what. Even if it meant giving up part of his weekend to do optional recon.
However, he’d picked up nothing but flimsy rumors all night. Definitely nothing that hinted at who was involved. Now, several hours later, he was tired of banal conversation and dead ends. The king-size bed in his hotel room called to him. It was late and he should get a good night’s sleep.
Aiden shrugged off the temptation. The only lead he had was a leggy blonde by the name of Alana Peterson, who apparently had some kind of grudge against the company. But his attempt to engage her in conversation had resulted in his being turned down flatter than a pancake.
A flash of color caught his attention. A woman stood next to a potted plant, her lithe figure encased in a little black dress that was hot enough to melt brain cells. But it was her hair that captivated him. It tumbled down to her waist, dark brown at the top and hot-pink through the lengths. She had a nose piercing and five earrings in one ear. He couldn’t help but linger; she was sex on a
