Page 116 of Push My Buttons
I reach the bottom of the stairs, and for a moment, I just stand there, letting them drink me in. Letting everyone see me. The woman I've become, not the girl who was broken.
Then I move forward, walking with deliberate grace toward Jace and Theo. The crowd ripples around me, whispers following in my wake. I catch fragments of conversation—"Is that the model for the game?" "That costume is incredible!" "Who is she?"—but I pay them no mind.
My world has narrowed to just two people. The rest are merely background noise.
Theo recovers first, stepping forward to meet me. His eyes travel from my elaborately braided hair down to my silver-painted toenails peeking from beneath the flowing hem of my dress.
"Holy shit," he breathes, the words barely audible. "You're... there aren't words, Wren. You're magnificent."
Jace approaches more slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. When he reaches me, he doesn't immediately speak. Instead, he circles me once, taking in every detail of my transformation.
"You did this," he says finally, his voice rough with emotion. "All of this. For the game?"
I shake my head slightly, careful not to disturb the intricate braids. "For me," I say, my voice clear and steady in a way that makes his eyes widen. "And for you. For both of you."
His hand rises, hovering near my face as if he's afraid to touch me, afraid I might be an illusion that will disappear if he makes contact. "You're speaking. In public."
"I am," I confirm, a small smile playing at my lips.
"You're incredible," he whispers, finally allowing his fingers to brush my cheek. "The most incredible woman I've ever known."
The executive Jace and Theo were speaking with clears his throat, reminding us that we're not alone. "Jace, aren't you going to introduce me to your... friend?"
Jace's expression shifts, a hint of his professional mask returning as he turns to the man. "Of course. Elliott, this is Wren Maddox. Wren, this is Elliott Chen, CEO of Nexus Gaming."
I extend my hand, pleased when it doesn't tremble. "A pleasure to meet you."
Elliott takes my hand, his eyes appraising. "The pleasure is mine. I must say, your costume is extraordinary. You look like you stepped right out of the game."
"That was the idea," I say, feeling Theo's hand slide possessively around my waist.
"Wren was Jace’s inspiration for ‘V’ in Wasteland Chronicles," Theo explains, his voice carrying that hint of pride I've come to recognize. "The character wouldn't exist without her."
Elliott's eyebrows rise. "Is that so? Well, you certainly made an impression."
I blush slightly but smile, accepting the compliment with a nod.
The conversation continues, Elliott asking questions about my involvement with the game's development, clearly trying to gauge how much influence I have with Jace and Theo. I answer carefully, conscious of the professional implications for both men.
"You'll have to excuse us," Theo says finally, his hand still firm at my waist. "I promised to show Wren around before the presentation begins."
Elliott nods, offering me another appraising look. "Of course. I hope we'll have a chance to speak more later, Ms. Maddox."
As he walks away, Theo turns to me with a grin. "Smooth. He's already trying to figure out how to use you to get to us."
I laugh, the sound coming more easily now. "Let him try."
Jace steps closer, his expression serious despite the celebration around us. "You shouldn't have come alone," hesays, his voice low enough that only Theo and I can hear. "After what happened to Marcus—"
"I'm fine," I interrupt gently. "I needed to do this. To walk in here on my own terms."
His eyes search mine, and I see the moment he accepts it—not just my decision, but the woman I've become. The woman who makes her own choices, even difficult ones.
"You're right," he acknowledges. "And your entrance was... memorable."
"That's an understatement," Theo laughs. "Every person in this place was staring. Half of them still are."
I glance around, realizing he's right. Though conversations have resumed, many eyes still flick our way, curious and speculative. I recognize some faces from the café—regular customers who probably don't even realize I'm the same quiet barista who used to serve their coffee.
