his shoulders. “Is it always on fire like this?”
Ren shrugged. “Nah, only about fifty percent of the time. I had to cut the staff down in the last year to try to save some money. It works for the most part but gets insane when anyone’s out.”
Hayes frowned.
But Ren didn’t want to get into how the business had declined after Hayes had gone to prison or how Ren had spent a big chunk of their profits on the lawyers and investigators who’d gotten Hayes’s conviction overturned. They had both seen the numbers. If Ren hadn’t renamed the company and introduced Hayven to the market two years ago, the company would’ve gone under.
It’d been the right move even though he’d had to go behind Hayes’s back to do it. When Ren had told Hayes about his idea for the game, Hayes had told Ren to scrub it. Think how it will look, he’d said. But Ren had gone against his wishes, named the game after Hayes, and had set up a separate company front that tied the game only to Ren to make it harder for the media to make the connection. Then he’d brought it to market like a big, blazing fuck you to all those people who thought Hayes was guilty.
It had saved the company from closing up shop, but they still had a ways to go to get robust again. He needed to get Hayes involved in the daily operation so that Ren could spend more time on game enhancements and developments instead of being the firefighter all the time.
“Come on.” Ren opened the door and they headed to the left, where the executive offices were located. He didn’t want to go through the trouble of introducing Hayes to everyone yet. The place was in crisis mode, and Hayes wouldn’t be ready for that song and dance anyway. He put a hand on Hayes’s shoulder when they got to his old office. “Why don’t you get settled in, get things back how you want them, and I’ll go see what random-persistent-woman-off-the-street wants?”
Hayes eyeballed his closed office door like it was going to explode and then looked back to Ren. “Tell that kid not to send strangers back here anymore. What if it’s some ex of yours or something? She could be burning your office down in revenge as we speak.”
Ren laughed. “She could just add it to the rest of the fires. But yeah, I’ll let him know.”
Hayes blew out a breath and grabbed the door handle. “How bad is it going to be in here?”
“Do the words ‘additional storage area’ mean anything to you?”
“Fuck.”
Ren glanced down the hallway. “I’ll stop by in a while and help you haul some of that shit out of there.”
Hayes shook his head and went into the room. Despite the curse that followed once Hayes saw the state of his office, something buoyed in Ren’s chest. Hayes was back.
Well, physically at least.
Ren left him to it and headed around the corner to his own office. Sitting in the chair outside his door was a woman who had her head down as she typed furiously on her phone and bounced her jean-clad knee. Not an ex. He didn’t really have those anyway. He never stuck with anyone long enough to get to the labels portion of coupledom. But something about her seemed familiar.
He set his bag down on his assistant Collin’s desk, strode over, patience low, and looked down. “Can I help you?”
The woman startled, so involved in whatever she’d been doing that she hadn’t noticed him approach. But when she lifted her head, the sight jolted his system like an electric shock, and the night before came crashing back.
No fucking way.
Hallway girl? She was wearing glasses today and less makeup, but there was no doubt it was her. Dark wavy hair that looked like she’d taken a dip in the ocean and let it dry in the breeze, the ghost of childhood freckles across her nose, and big hazel eyes he’d never forget.
His mind couldn’t process the two things, the spheres colliding. The woman from the party at his job. She’d sought him out? He hadn’t even told her his name. And last night she hadn’t been able to get away from him fast enough.
But the way she was staring at him told a different story. Her eyes had gone wide and her bottom lip hung open like it’d forgotten how to close. She hadn’t been looking for him. She was as surprised as he was. “Uh . . . I was waiting for Mr. Muroya.”
Her knuckles went white around her phone and she tipped forward in the seat like she wanted to run, the heels of her Chuck Taylors lifting off the ground. She’d already figured out that he was the guy she’d come to see, and she wanted to bail.
Too bad he was standing in her way.
He smiled, slow and pleased. “Is that right?”
Last night, he’d been more than a little intrigued by the woman who had so boldly watched him with Naomi. He’d been doing a friend a favor, playing a part in a scene, which should’ve been fun, especially when they were doing it at a professional party instead of at The Ranch. But beyond the obvious pleasure of a blow job, he hadn’t been able to get into the right headspace for the scene. A problem he’d been having way too often lately.
Then, he’d looked up and found this woman watching, and everything about the scene had flipped. Energy had surged through him, his body had come alive, and his dominant instincts had rushed forward. Being watched was a kink of his, but this had been something altogether different. The way she’d been looking at him . . . There’d been fear there, that knee-jerk reaction to being caught, but there’d been something else, too. Something that had made him want to call her over, to give her the very thing her eyes were asking him for. Then she’d run off. And when he’d approached her in the light of the party, she’d been bordering on hostile. The way she’d acted had made him think he’d read her all wrong. So when the blonde had rushed up to save her, he’d figured hot mystery woman had a girlfriend, that he’d been barking up the wrong tree.
Now she was here. And the color that appeared in her cheeks after her gaze quickly skimmed down his body told him a different story. Right tree.
The morning had just gotten infinitely more interesting. “Guess you’re in luck. I’m Ren Muroya.”
Her eyes closed, her worst fear obviously confirmed. “Of course you are.”
He couldn’t help but grin wider at her fuck-my-life expression. “So, Cora, Lady of the Dark Hallway, what exactly can I help you with?”
—
Fuck. My. Life.
Cora didn’t know what she’d done in a previous existence, but apparently it’d been evil because the universe was screwing with her. She’d spent all morning tracking down the head of Restless Games, first calling a number that never picked up, then going to an address that turned out to be just a mailbox, and finally having to go through more computer detective work than she was in the mood for to find the parent company and where it was located. After that, she’d had to wait an hour in this office. Now, she’d finally found who she was looking for and it was this guy.
Blow-job guy.
Or as the world knew him—Ren Muroya, CEO and co-owner of FoxRen Media and, apparently, Restless Games.
She cleared her throat, trying her damnedest to erase
