Page 7 of Anti-Player

He laughs lightly, the sound warming me more than my coffee could. “Taking the time to meet like this. I hope your fans aren't mad you cut your video off so suddenly.”

“They'll be okay. Cookie will keep them company.”

“Ah, the girl with the scary eyes?”

I purse my lips. “I think the eyes on her avatar are cool.”

“I like yours better,” he says, slipping his fingers together on the table. I stare at his hands. I have a thing for hands—maybe thanks to all the time I spend on a keyboard. It's easy to imagine his long fingers working dexterously. How would they feel if they touched me?

I shift on my chair nervously. “Anyway, let's get to business. Your Secret Reader is garbage.”

He doesn't even flinch. “I know that now.”

“You do?” I ask, surprised.

“You made it clear earlier.”

“And you're not... mad?”

“No!” Mikel ruffles his hair, looking put out. “My team is all yes men. You're the first person to speak honestly. If anything, I'm happy. I have a chance to fix things before the Secret Reader goes to market in a month.”

Sipping my coffee, I knot my brow. “What can you do in a month? That's a tall order.”

“It is,”he agrees slowly. “Pretty much impossible.” His eyes fix on me with such an intensity I freeze. “Unless I have your help.”

The spot between my thighs is fluttering. I cross my legs tighter. “You really want me to be involved? Even though I said awful things online?”

“You said honest things,” he corrects me.

Dammit. I like him even more, now. “I'm not an engineer, Mikel. I can't tell you how to make your device better.”

“Tell me what it needs. Between me and my team, we'll implement it. But I want more than that from you.”

My blood pumps faster. “Oh?”

Leaning over the table, Mikel brings his handsome face inches from mine. I stop breathing entirely. “Your viewers worship you. They trust you. When the improved Secret Reader is complete, review it again.”

“I've never done that before,” I explain. “I'm a one and done type of girl.”

“There's a first for everything.”

I swallow loudly. “And if I hate it still?”

“Then say that. Say the truth. But I believe, with your input, that new review will be like night and day to the last.”

Staring him down, I search his face for any hint that he's playing with me. Is he really, genuinely, out to create something good? “Before I agree, I have some questions.”

“Shoot.”

“What if it's not ready in time? What if it costs a ton more money to make it perfect?”

His tone is low, gritty, serious. “I will spend as much time and as much money as I need to get this right. I promise that.”

My chest is tight from swelling with wonderment. Maybe he's an amazing liar. I can't know for sure. Deep down, I believe what he's telling me. “I have one major condition.”

Some of the intensity leaves his body. He can tell he's convincing me. “Yes, anything.”

“I don't want you to pay me. Not a dime.” His eyebrows inch up as I speak, but I keep on. “I don't take money for reviews. It goes against my ethics. Regardless of your success or failure, you absolutely can't pay me for my consultation.” Setting down my coffee, I offer my hand. “Deal?”

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