Page 11 of The Nanny and the Nerd
And that’s what it had to be.
He needed a comeback. He required something so compelling, so visually stunning, even his fiercest critics couldn’t help but lose themselves in gameplay and sing his praises.
Unfortunately, what he saw on the screen was not that. In fact, it was absolute shit! It was enough to make him want to rip the monitors off the wall and throw them out the window. But that wasn’t who he was.
He never let his guard down. He never let them see him sweat.
The last woman he’d dated had called him an iceman for not wanting to cuddle with her after they screwed.
Who had time for that?
She wasn’t the first woman who had wanted more from him. And, like every other time, he’d ended the tryst. He didn’t have the patience for hysterics or the monotony of wooing some woman. Honestly, what driven, disciplined man did?
Get in. Get off. Get on your way.
He never had trouble finding someone to help him scratch the proverbial itch. He’d worked damn hard at the gym to get the type of body that made women give him a second, third, and even a fourth glance. Their wanton desire to have him screw their brains out cut through most of the formalities—which was a good thing because he didn’t have time for the hearts and flowers bullshit.
You’d never catch him penning poetry for a woman. No, Rowen Gale wasn’t built for that.
He was a loner, and despite being a public persona, he was an introvert. That awkward ten-year-old inside of him never disappeared. He just grew up, bulked up, and became richer than God.
And that’s why his current situation had become so precarious. He didn’t have time for superfluous endeavors, and he’d found himself smack-dab in the middle of a tumultuous situation with no end in sight. There was no time to mess around. They had two months to make AI-77 the top-selling, most acclaimed video game release to date.
He sat down and hammered out a message to his design lead. He stared at the blinking cursor, waiting for the designer’s response. And…nothing! He put on his glasses and narrowed his gaze. His employees knew that when he sent a message, they better respond—and fast. He blew out an irritated breath and messaged the audio engineers and his developers.
He drummed his fingers on his desk and waited and waited.
Where the hell was everyone?
He banged out another message when a knock at his door stopped him mid-text rant.
“Come in,” he called, then finished typing thewhat the hell is going on with AI-77 prosewhen the door opened and his assistant, Jerome, slipped into the room.
“Rowen, you should say a few words,” the man said gently.
A few words?
He stared at his assistant. Jerome had started with Gale Tech in California and had relocated with him to Colorado. He was a good man, got right to the point, and did his work without complaint. But he had no idea what the guy was talking about.
Rowen shook his head. “Not now, Jerome! There’s too much to do. And where is everyone?” He surveyed the game engine’s dashboard. Somebody needed to get some work done around here. He could dive into the code himself and start troubleshooting.
Jerome checked the bank of monitors. “Everyone’s at the party for Chantel.” The man pulled out his phone and surveyed the screen. “I should also let you know that Madelyn Malone called. She’s sending a candidate to meet with you today.”
Rowen froze at the mention of Ms. Malone, recalling how his mother had suggested he engage her services to help with his…predicament. She sure as hell cost a pretty penny. And even though he needed the help, the thought of some stranger lurking around the house set him on edge instantly. He kept his social circle small. That was an understatement. If it were up to him, he’d sequester himself back in his California compound with no one to bother him and nothing but silence for a companion. But that life had come and gone.
“Rowen, Chantel would really appreciate it if you made an appearance at her party,” Jerome said.
Rowen frowned, then eyed his assistant warily. “Who the hell is Chantel?”
Jerome bit back a grin. “She’s the receptionist. She’s worked here for the last three years.”
Dammit! He knew they had a receptionist. He passed her each day. She sat alone on the first level near the coffee bar and smoothie station. The real work happened up here on the second floor. He’d taken an old loft complex and turned the entire structure into the Gale Gaming offices. Decked out with neon lights and hip workstations, it was a fantastic setup. But he never paid much attention to the people who weren’t direct division leads. Truth be told, he didn’t pay that much attention to actual people. That’s why he had Jerome—to filter out the noise and to let him focus on what mattered.
“I didn’t know that her name was Chantel,” he replied, crossing his arms.
Jerome straightened the chairs at the glass conference table in the center of the mammoth office. “Well, it is, and today is her last day.”
Rowen walked over to the opaque glass wall and tapped a button. Within seconds, the misty privacy coating disappeared. He scanned the second floor and could see why nobody had responded to his messages. The entire office had gathered in the center of the massive work area.
