Game of Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  “And you must be Keegan.” She gave a polite smile.

  “I’m so sorry you had to wait, I got held up at the office.” I held up my hands in apology. “I considered going home to change, but I didn’t want to make you wait…”

  “It’s fine.” She lifted her oversized cocktail glass and drained it, standing up and slipping a tiny jacket off the back of her chair. I was surprised how annoyed I was to have blown it. I stood back to let her pass me, gesturing to the bartender to come over. I was going to need a drink.

  “Look, I apologize. I am ten minutes late, but I…” Her look stopped me in my tracks.

  “I said it’s fine. Let’s go. You wanted to go home and… undress, right?” She turned to face me directly, and I must have stared at her like a complete idiot because she gave me the most sultry smile I had ever seen and took my hand in hers, turning and weaving her way between the tables to the door, with me following behind like a willing slave.

  Chapter 5

  FREYA

  WE WERE ALL pretty proud of the purpose-built home studio where the magic of Dynasty Games happened, but I have to admit, it was nothing compared to the headquarters of Clover House. I’d never really noticed the building before, but walking through the huge glass doors and into a vast lobby, dotted with professional-looking loiterers sipping coffee, I felt totally out of my depth. I made my way to the sleek reception desk, and the receptionist greeted me with a huge smile, asked me to take a seat, and said someone would be with me shortly. I hadn’t even told her who I was, but I did as she said.

  I sat in the reception before a huge display case showing off Clover House’s merchandise and awards. On the wall behind the receptionist were posters of their best-selling games and latest launches, including Cre8ure. Twice I almost got up and left, and twice I convinced myself to stay and go through with what increasingly felt like the plan of a madwoman.

  It was the thought of my parents that convinced me to take the risk, really. It had been ten days since Clover House had pulled the rug out from underneath us, and I had had to stand by and watch as first the business, and then my family began unraveling. The lawyers couldn’t seem to find anything to pin on them; at the last meeting they had suggested the whole thing was a massive coincidence. Clover House, who happen to be in the same city, had just happened to have exactly the same game idea and had just happened to create it under total secrecy and release it at the same time as we had planned to release ours. The meeting had left my mother sobbing and my sister so angry that she ran a red light on the way home and wound up with a ticket. My dad had retreated into silence, tending his garden and pottering in his garage, only looking in to check if Drew had come across any clues as to how it might have happened.

  Drew had been a rock. He kept my parents in a steady supply of pastries and optimism, even offering new game ideas that might offer a way out of the financial crisis that loomed. Nobody had the heart to take on anything new, and when I suggested anything, my ideas were dismissed. That was why I was sitting in my best job-interview sensible skirt and shirt combo in the glassy lobby of Clover House, hoping that my nervous ticks weren’t obvious from across the room.

  A courier with a helmet walked away from the reception desk with a stack of envelopes under his arm. He must have asked who I was, as I heard the receptionist mutter something about an intern – how I hated that word – and as he sauntered past me, he called out without even turning around.

  “Don’t do it. Run away while you still can!”

  My heart sank and my stomach churned. His words echoed my feelings precisely. The receptionist laughed, and then her face returned to the friendly mask she wore when she saw that we were being approached by a dark-haired man in his mid or late twenties in an exquisitely tailored suit. I stood up as he approached, and he gave me an appreciative once-over. I began to raise my hand to shake his, but instead, he gestured at me to follow him with a nod of his head. He turned on his heel and made his way back to a long corridor and an airy office with a startling array of potted plants.

  Inside the office, a fierce-looking older woman with silver hair cut in a bob sat at a computer and looked me up and down, but with rather less of the appreciation that the man had shown. We sat down and she took a sip of coffee before speaking.

  “Thank you for coming today. The interview procedure for the Clover House intern program is fairly short and simple, you’ll be glad to hear. We vet our candidates well before we invite anyone to interview, so the fact you are here bodes very well for you. Mr. Callahan here takes a special interest in our intern program, so he will be sitting in.” She was brisk and business-like, but I liked the way she added just a hint of irony to the words ‘special interest.’ It was a warning, woman to woman, and I hoped my smile communicated my thanks to her. So, this was Mr. Callahan. I assumed he was one of the two sons of the CEO I had read about on the company website, either Sean or Keegan. I was pleased that my research was proving useful, but nervous that I was faced with someone so high up in the company.

  “What Ms. Messum means is that your résumé is impressive,” he smiled. Shit, I thought, it wasn’t supposed to be impressive. I had purposely played it down so that it wouldn’t raise suspicion, leaving off the degree I had earned and replacing it with a night-class at a community college in a town I had never even been to about fifty miles away. I hoped they never really checked these things.

  “Thank you,” I smiled back and hoped it didn’t look as false as it felt.

  “Yes,” agreed Ms. Messum reluctantly, her eyes flicking over a copy of my résumé on her desk before meeting mine. “So, could you tell us what you hope to contribute to Clover House and what you hope to take away from the experience?”

  “I want to work with one of the most innovative app producers there is. I have a good eye for design, I work hard, and I am willing to learn.” I gave her my most earnest look, full eye contact, and a small hopeful smile, just as I had been practicing in the mirror for the past three days. I glanced over to Mr. Callahan, hoping to give him the same earnest look, and found him blatantly checking out my legs. I looked away and back to Ms. Messum, who raised her eyebrows at me. She then turned to her computer, continuing to tap at the keyboard.

  “Good enough for me,” Mr. Callahan said, clapping his hands together as though the whole thing had been resolved.

  “We have an office intern position, general admin, but you’d be working with the Design team, which you have expressed an interest in. We could start you next week, as the last recruit we had unexpectedly quit two days ago without giving us two weeks’ notice…” Ms. Messum looked at me questioningly, and I realized with a sinking feeling that I was in. I had done it, and she wanted an answer right now.

  “Yes,” I nodded, trying to keep the horror out of my expression. “Yes! That’s – wonderful! Thank you.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Messum, I’ll help Ellie – it is Ellie, isn’t it? – get a feel for the place. Introduce her to the team.” Mr. Callahan stood up, and I had little choice but to join him as he left the room.

  “It’s Effie,” I replied. Effie was my childhood nickname that only my parents and sister ever used, as Beatrix had problems saying my name when I was born. I figured Freya was too unusual, and Effie was a suitable substitute.

  “And you can call me Sean. We are all on a first-name basis here. No need for any of that ‘sir’ business.”

  I had no intention of calling anyone sir, but I fought the urge to tell him that and smiled meekly instead. My head was spinning. I thought back to the day I had sent in my application for the intern program and wondered what the hell I had been thinking. It felt like I was suddenly here, an intern at Clover House, and there hadn’t been any time in between.

  Sean was barking out information as we made our way through various departments. Everything was very open-plan, and everyone seemed extremely busy. As we passed through what must have been the Marketing department, I was faced with a wall of promotional ma
terial for Cre8ure. It was just what I needed, a reminder of exactly why I was there. My level of rage, which had been replaced by a growing sense of my own stupidity since the reality of working at Clover House had hit me, had just surged upwards again. Sean had stopped and was introducing me to someone, and I had to consciously calm my brain and make an effort to listen to what was being said.

  “This is Frank. He’s head of Design, and you will take your orders from him,” Sean was saying, then with a barely perceptible wink he added, “unless I have any specific requests.” He grinned, and I completely ignored him. It was either that or give him an awfully specific request of my own.

  “Effie,” smiled Frank, before politely adding with a nod to Sean, “I can take it from here. Thanks for taking the time – I know you’re busy.”

  “Frank will look after you, and come see me if he doesn’t!” Sean gave me his smarmy smile again and then left.

  I felt myself exhale with relief to be away from him, and Frank must have noticed, because I saw him smile slightly as he began to clear paperwork from a small desk at a cubicle near the window.

  “I’m going to put you here. That way, you can see the world out there and be reminded that you can leave any time you like,” he half-laughed, giving me a twinkly smile. He was older than me, maybe late forties, with a soft Caribbean accent and lines around his eyes from smiling. I liked him immediately, despite my determination not to like anyone or anything that had any association with Clover House.

  “Thanks!” I smiled.

  “By the way, there are two things that Sean has got all wrong,” Frank said in a low voice. “I don’t give anyone orders, and I don’t look after anyone. I will give you work to do, and hopefully, you won’t feel like you need looking after,” he smiled again. Everything about him was reassuring. “This here’s Taylor. Take everything she has to say about the job seriously, and don’t listen to her on any other subject – she’s a bad influence!”

  He placed his hand on the back of the girl’s chair sitting next to my desk, and she looked up and threw him some exaggerated shade. She stood up, and I was struck by how incredible she looked. She was wearing a fifties-style wiggle dress, and she had the perfect figure for it.

  “Wow, that dress is amazing on you,” I spoke before I thought, and then tried to recover. “Sorry, weird introduction! I’m Effie, the new intern. Or coffee-maker.”

  If she knew how awkward I felt, she didn’t show it. “You keep on appreciating my style and talking about coffee and we are going to get along just fine. You’ve met Sean and you’re still here, so I’m going to go right ahead and assume you really wanna be here, so you aren’t going to cause me any trouble.”

  “He’s…” I was totally lost for words. I’d been there five minutes; I couldn’t exactly insult the boss, and yet I couldn’t think of a single positive thing to say.

  “Sean’s a pain until he realizes you aren’t buying what he’s selling. And believe or not, he’s easier to manage than his brother,” she nodded towards the glass office booth that took up the rest of the area. I couldn’t see inside, but I could make out movement beyond the privacy glass. I was about to ask Taylor how the other Mr. Callahan could possibly be worse, when Frank returned.

  “We will talk on Monday about what you’ll be doing, Effie. We usually ease interns in pretty gently, but we are super busy right now with the launch of a new game. It’s a big one…”

  “And we’ve all been rushed off our feet and not allowed to do our jobs properly,” interjected Taylor.

  “Yes,” Frank gave her a firm look. “We’ve been busy, but there’s plenty of work for everyone and we’ve been well paid for our overtime, so nobody is complaining…”

  “I didn’t complain! Did I complain?” Taylor looked at me.

  “I didn’t hear you complain…” I smiled.

  “Ah I see how it’s gonna be,” said Frank. “All the girls together, right? Well, okay, Effie, when you come in on Monday at nine, Taylor is gonna take you right under that there wing of hers.”

  “No problem,” Taylor acted nonchalant and sat back down at her desk. “About time I got me an assistant…”

  They both laughed, and I had to join them. As I said my goodbyes and made my way back down to the lobby and out into the cool afternoon air, I felt a new knot of anxiety in my stomach. I was prepared to feel angry with my new employer; I was expecting the sense of gnawing fear that I might be found out. I was even expecting the revulsion I felt when I saw all the Cre8ure merchandise lying around. What I wasn’t expecting was to feel welcome, and to want genuinely nice people to like me. What had I got myself into?

  Chapter 6

  KEEGAN

  JUST WHAT I wanted to do on my Friday night – another in a long line of cocktail receptions to reassure various shareholders that we weren’t wasting their money by literally wasting money showering them with drinks and canapés. The only pleasure I could take from the whole boring charade was seeing Sean go mad with curiosity when I walked in with Lucy on my arm. He could have just asked me who she was, or where we met, but that would have been showing an interest in my life, and that was something he wasn’t prepared to do, no matter how curious he was.

  Lucy was every inch the perfect date for this kind of event. She was stunning to look at and charming to talk to, even though I don’t think she remembered anything I said to her. Our first date had gone very well, with us ending up in bed together, but there was no spark. She didn’t read, she didn’t travel, she didn’t enjoy trying new foods. She lacked personality and was willing to do anything to avoid having to think about her life. I had invited her to tonight when I’d let it slip what I was doing later in the week. Apparently she knew a couple of people who were attending, and I offered to bring her along.

  There was no self-consciousness with Lucy. She simply oozed confidence. She knew she looked incredible in a pale pink silk dress that almost hit the floor, and her hair twisted up into some kind of fancy knot that I didn’t understand and that seemed to defy gravity. Since our blind date, she had just inserted herself into my life with no expectations. She was there when I wanted to see her and didn’t demand my attention unless she heard from me first. It was a far cry from the needy women I seemed to attract, but it left me slightly unsure of myself. I found myself calling her more often than I really wanted to, as if trying to make up for the fact that she was never the first to send a text message or call me.

  It was almost too good to be true. Here she was, this incredible-looking creature, and all I had to do was snap my fingers and she would be where I wanted her. If I had to work the next day, she was gone before breakfast. If I had to work late, there wasn’t a word of complaint from her. I got the impression I could suggest anything – ask for anything – and she would supply it. The sex had been a welcome distraction, and just watching her walk through the crowd, wine glass in hand, made me want to take her home right then. She made all the right noises, but I had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t enjoying being together like I was. It was everything that I thought I wanted, and yet I couldn’t quite relax, because I couldn’t quite understand what she was getting out of the relationship. It occurred to me that was what it was turning into. A relationship. But I felt little pleasure in her company. She was a substitute for someone else, although who I had no idea. I couldn’t quite decide what to make of that. Maybe it would legitimize me somehow, make me look more normal, more steady. She made her way back to me, smiling her model’s smile. She was perfect.

  What on earth was my problem? Could I not just enjoy something good and stop second-guessing everything? I resolved to make the most of the night while the drink was flowing and I had Lucy to look forward to later. Maybe I would even make things right with Sean.

  I looked over to where he was chatting with one of our major stakeholders, Peter Nolan, a friend of our father, who had invested a lot of money into the company and tied his own software company to ours. He had a lot riding on our
success, and as I watched Sean laugh at his jokes, which I knew from experience would definitely not be funny, I couldn’t help but admire the control Sean had over the situation. He always knew what to say to these people. I made my way over and shook Peter’s hand.

  “We have just been reminiscing about the good old days back home.” Peter’s face was flushed from a mixture of Prosecco and hearty laughter.

  “We have indeed!” laughed Sean, a fake laugh that got my back up. I noticed that the American accent had faded somewhat for the benefit of his audience. I’d once joked that Sean kept the accent in his back pocket to put on or take off as he saw fit.

  “Good old days?” I smiled. “Sean wouldn’t think of them as the good old days, surely? He’s a full-fledged yank these days. Although the accent seems to have faded somewhat this evening.”

  Sean’s smile became even more forced. “Ah, there’s no place like home!”

  “God, lads, I miss it. Every minute I spend in the US of A is a minute I wish I could have spent in Ireland, you know?” Peter was wistful, and I wondered how much Prosecco he’d had.

  “I do know,” I said, and I meant it.

  “We are all just waiting for the day when Keegan finally makes the move back where he belongs,” Sean added.

  Peter gestured at his empty glass and made off towards the bar with a friendly slap on each of our backs.

  “Why did you have to do that?” Sean hissed at me when Peter was out of earshot.

  “Because you’re a fucking phony,” I smiled, raising my glass to acknowledge a group of new arrivals who had just walked into the room.

  “I’m keeping him sweet. It’s my job,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “And I’m providing some balance. It’s my job,” I replied.

  “Like hell it is,” Sean was furious, as I knew he would be. “Maybe if you put more effort into your actual job and less into undermining me, you’d actually get somewhere.”