Page 33 of Cocky Tech God

I closed my eyes to take a sigh before I read what I knew would be a filthy message.

Hansen: That does sound appealing. But what about if you sit on my face and ride me until you come on my tongue? We both win with that.

I held my breath. Another text came in.

Hansen: And BTW, I’m not jealous of anyone. And yes, you are MINE for five more days. Ditch Thunder Boy.

I could feel Hansen’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up. Despite how secret this agreement was, it actually was the first time I’d agreed to a monogamous affair—even as short a time period as a week. Still, I agreed to the monogamy and in a crazy way, it felt…nice.

But it would be over. And after that, I’d just write it off as another one of my life experiences.

I typed, careful to hide my response with my fingers.

Me: And you are mine.

Our eyes met again, a shared memory passing between us even at the distance. Hansen didn’t type, only nodded. Not a smirk on his lips. Not a gleam in his eyes. He was serious. And I weirdly felt serious, too, even though none of this was or would ever be.

I put the phone on silent and shoved it back into my bag. No more texting. I could let him seduce me to paralysis. I still had a mission at the conference, and I couldn’t let him deter me from that. Not when my business was in the red, and this might be my last chance to get in new contracts before I had to make a drastic business decision.

The panel continued for an hour, and when it was over, everyone stood and clapped as if the CEOs were rock stars. In a way, they were. They were rock stars in the cybersecurity world. One day I hoped to be grouped among them myself.

After the applause, Brett turned to me. “Are you going to the attendee dinner?”

My answer was on the tip of my tongue, but never came out. Hansen sidled me out of nowhere and wrapped his fingers around my wrist.

Brett’s eyes zeroed-in on where Hansen touched me. I pulled my hand away because that was the second rule of the agreement. No touching in public. How could Hansen be so irresponsible? In doing that he almost broke our first rule: no one must know. Brett had noticed for sure the intimacy of how Hansen touched me, then leaned in on me as if he knew me in an intimate way.

“Did you get an email from Graham’s assistant? Apparently, his dinner tonight was rescheduled, so he’s free and wants to meet,” Hansen said to me as if it was his idea, not mine.

My worry about our sex contract fell to the wayside. This was a real pin in my side. Hansen stealing my dinner from right under me was bullshit. And though I’d already had words with him about it, it still pissed me off. But I had to keep my cool. I was the obscure company that could easily fold equally as I could rise up into global acknowledgement. If I couldn’t get the dinner alone with Graham, I’d bulldoze the conversation so that Graham forgot Hansen was there.

“I didn’t see the email.” I fished for my phone just to look. There it was several lines down of other emails from Mia and clients. “I got it.”

His lip curled up. “You still want to go, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I said in the sweetest voice I could, ergo I was fuming and he knew it. “It was my idea after all.”

Hansen had no idea how much I needed this dinner with Graham, and Hansen being buddies with him annoyed me a little. Hansen may very well be Graham’s top choice because of brotherhood alone. But I wouldn’t let that discourage me. I had to stop overthinking. I didn’t know at all Graham’s process for picking a vendor. From what I gathered about him, he seemed fair. None of this favoritism stuff that infuriated me when I saw it happening right before my eyes. My hope was the best software company would win the contract. As far as I was concerned, my software was better than Hansen’s.

“So, I will see you at the sushi place,” I said.

“At eight. Don’t be late.” Hansen walked away, any semblance of the intimacy vibe he’d given me before was gone.

Done like a true player. Compartmentalizing.

“Well, looks like you’re booked for dinner,” Brett finally said.

“Looks like.” The tension was thick between us.

“Perhaps a pint later? Or there’s a showing of The Net in one of the suites again.”

I nodded, feeling shitty that I knew I wouldn’t meet him. “Maybe. But I doubt it.”

He nodded. “Alright, then. Later. Maybe.”

“Have a good night.” I gave him an awkward-as-hell-wave and left the crowded room for the main lobby. I was on a mission.

That mission most certainly didn’t include the Thunder from Down Under.