“Hmm,” I mumbled, scratching Trink behind the ears, savouring her rumbling purr and the smooth glide of her fur beneath my fingers. Fresh air could wait until after my meeting with Atlas. After running into Cadence, I needed their comfort more.
“Look, Henry, I know you find this stuff tedious, but it’s important. We’re playing with the big boys now. Shit, wearethe big boys! These people are lining up to schmoozeme! The Appies are coming up later in the year, and it’s not going to be a good look if you don’t come to Cali for them.”
Abs, sitting on my desk decided he’d had enough of pats and sank his teeth into the fleshy part of my hand—a warning nip. Wincing at the pain, I moved my hand from his back, and he unceremoniously tumbled off the desk and scuttled into his little cat igloo. So much for comfort, the pernickety little fiend.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I rubbed my forehead. “Sorry, Atlas, it’s been a morning here. TechRaker published the yacht berth, and Cadence showed up.”
Atlas snorted. “I could’ve put money on her stalking you, the fucking gold digger. What did she want? To try and wheedle her way back into your good graces now you’ve got something she wants?”
I tried not to let those casual words cut me. “She tried bringing up her partnership idea again. I told her to go set up an advertiser account and do what every other sex-toy business is doing—pay for views.”
“Look, I’m with you that we owe her nothing, and honestly, a big fish like Tickle, partnering with a boutique vibrator brand?” He scoffed.
“To be fair, we were a little boutique adults-only app to begin with,” I argued. Not that I wanted to partner with Cadence, but the smug way Atlas called us a ‘big fish’ didn’t sit right with me.
“For all of thirty seconds! Look, maybe we offer her an olive branch … a little charity, if you will. Invite her to your yacht party. She can mingle with some of the local creators, maybe make some connections there, you know? Send them free samples. Might get some free advertising if they film themselves using them.”
My brain screeched to a halt. “Wait … did you just say that you’re inviting Tickle creators ontomyyacht?”
“Hey, we’ll rent a berth at Darling Harbour for people to board—no one needs to come to Rushcutters.” He let out a wry laugh. “Not that it’s exactly private now anyway, fucking TechRaker … but we’re sprinting towards that three-hundred million subscribers mark. We could kill two birds with one stone—christen the yachtandhost an exclusive Tickle party to celebrate a milestone.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Can we not?”
“Fuck me, you’re such a stick in the mud! I did say exclusive! Invitation only, a heavily vetted guest list. I’m not going to lay out the red carpet for just anyone. But think of the publicity for Tickle! TechRaker will be salivating at the thought of getting the exclusive. They’d probably pay for the privilege. They’re rabid for news about the two of us!”
“So,who’svetting this list?” I could feel a headache coming on.
“Tell you what. You run a script, pull me a report on all the creators geolocated in the greater Sydney area. I’ll do the heavy lifting and check out all their profiles … in detail …” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. I rolled my eyes. “And then I’ll send the shortlist back to you with my recommendations, and you can have final veto on every single name on that list. Fair?”
I blew out a breath. “As fair as you hosting a party at my house is ever going to be.”
Atlas slapped his thigh. “Alright, you’ve got work to do—send me that list asap, and I’ll get to work vetting the talent.”
“Keep the lotion handy,” I quipped. “Chaffing is an on-the-job hazard.”
Atlas guffawed, and without further ado, ended the video chat.
“You’re not seriously letting him turn this into some clusterfuck Atlas shenanigan, are you?”
I glanced up to find Lucian standing, arms folded, in the doorway, a scowl wrinkling his brow.
“I don’t need another conflict today,” I muttered, logging into the Tickle back end. “And he’s right … itwouldbe good publicity.”
“It’s your home, Bax. And what about the cats?” He leaned down and scooped up Trinket, who settled into his arms before turning to give me a look that said,‘How dare you argue with my favourite human!’
“The cats will be safe in here. You know they’ll just want to hide as soon as people start arriving anyway. We’ll hire security to guard the door. No one in or out of the master suite without express permission.”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of security,” he growled before tilting his head down to Trink, his gruff expression melting away as he stroked her chin. “Don’t want anything happening to my precious girl.”
I smiled wryly—I was used to Lucian melting for my sleek Siamese by now. “How’d you go with Liv?”
Lucian’s head snapped up, lips parting. “Oh! Uh … yes, she called legal, and they’ve managed to have the article revised …” He cleared his throat. “But the damage is already done, no doubt. Who knows how many people have already seen it? We’ve already had Cadence show up uninvited, it’s only a matter of time before it’s someone else.”
I forced the bubble of worry back down into the pit of my stomach. “The marina is secure; the gate is always locked, so it’s not like anyone can just wander in, and they employ a security firm overnight. We have the crew on board … we just need to make sure they know that no one is welcome aboard without our say so.”
Lucian frowned. “I don’t trust their security.”
