Zach was going to be ill, he knew it. This wasn't funny. He could tell from Scott's expression he was in agreement. Murmurs spread across the crowds, as others started to draw the same connection to what was happening.
Chloe stepped onto the stage, and Jordan walked to meet her. He took her hand and led her into the spotlight. Coming to a stop, he kissed her on the cheek. He dropped to one knee, and the quiet roar in the audience increased several decibels. He kept going. “Chloe, you've been a constant source of light in my life since I met you. You've shown me opportunities I never imagined existed.”
Zach wanted to turn away, but his gaze was fixed on the stage. Morbid fascination threatened to make him lose his lunch.
“I know this is sudden, but I was wondering, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Fuck me,” Scott muttered. “I'm going to kill him with my own hands. I don't care if the entire internet sees it.”
Zach placed a restraining hand on his arm, not trusting himself to speak.
Chloe shook her head and broke away. “I don't think so. I mean, really. Who wants to be married to a game programmer?”
And Zach's heart sank further. The déjà vu was painful. The success of the last forty-eight hours was evaporating.
But where Kelly's no had stopped there, Chloe’s didn't. “I mean one that works for Digital Media, anyway. Eww. Is it true they pay you monkeys in bananas?”
Scott's eyes grew wide. “Did she just…really?”
This was going to cause them so much trouble. There was no way anyone would believe they hadn’t set the whole thing up.
Jordan sniffled into the microphone, expression flat. “Peanuts, actually.”
Chloe pulled him to his feet and stepped closer to drape her arms around his neck. “I can make you a better offer.”
Something caught Zach's attention, and he realized the media reps for DM were standing off stage, fighting desperately to get Jordan's attention. Cameras turned toward the new commotion.
Jordan smirked and leaned into her. “Really? Better than peanuts?”
She leaned forward, whispering right next to his mike. “Ditch the losers, and I’m all yours.”
Jordan stepped away, grinning.
The media reps had given up trying to catch his attention and were converging on the center stage.
Zach felt relief wash over him. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Scott was laughing. “Holy fuck. I can't believe he put her up to this.”
Someone grabbed Jordan’s arm at the same time as another person took hold of Chloe. Vance stepped up to the mike, laughing nervously. The lights exaggerated the sweat dripping down his red face. “Very clever. Thank you, Jordan. Who wants to see our new game?”
The crowd wasn't listening. Attention was focused on the scuffle off-stage. Jordan's microphone was gone, so no sound filtered through the room, but he was gesturing wildly to the cronies accosting him. He yanked away from the one holding his arm and grabbed Chloe's hand. He said something else and tugged her toward the back exit.
Scott nudged Zach with his shoulder. “We should probably make ourselves scarce, no?”
Be furious or laugh? Zach wasn’t sure which he wanted to do first. “We should take care of our people. You find them and keep them off the radar for a few hours. Lock them both in your room if you have to.”
He stopped short of reaching for his smokes. That would have to wait. “I’m going to get a hold of marketing, see if we need to do damage control and how much, and put Legal on standby. Don’t let them make it worse.”
“Got it.” Scott was already tapping on the screen of his phone as he walked away.
Zach took off in a different direction, looking for a quiet corner to start making phone calls. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Vance. Great. That voice mail could wait. This was insane. How were they going to convince the press—or even better, any furious lawyers—they hadn’t known about this? He needed to get his people ready for damage control, depending on how the entire thing spun.
“I know you’re busy, but do you have ten minutes for a friend?” The familiar female voice from somewhere to his right muted most of his other thoughts.
Rae. His already racing pulse kicked up another gear.
He whirled to find her lounging in the doorway of a dark conference room, a hesitant smile dancing on her lips. She looked incredible. She wore one of their shirts, and it hugged every inch of her torso as if it had been made for her. He couldn’t find any words.
In a few short strides, he crossed the distance between them, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her completely into the room, out of sight of foot traffic. He dipped his head and kissed her hard, hands sliding under her top and up her bare back, holding her as close as he could. Every inch of her rubbed against him. Her hands rested on his chest, a tiny whimper rising from her throat.
He finally broke the kiss with a gasp, but didn’t let her go. “Did you know about any of this?”
She smirked. “Of course not. What my sister does in her spare time is completely up to her. It’s called plausible deniability.”