Page 2 of Auctioned to the Billionaire Stalker

I realized I was hungry. I should have stopped and gotten something on my way back from the tournament, but I’d been in such a foul mood. Plus, I hated to deviate from my schedule any more than I already had.

I’d had the same order from Dinardo’s Deli for the past ten years. I ordered creamy tomato soup with cheddar croutons and a grilled cheese sandwich with a pack of crackers. Every single day. And it always arrived at 11:30 on the dot. The only thing that had changed over the years was the delivery person.

But I didn’t bother with the delivery people. That was one of Grandma’s many jobs.

Once, Old Man Dinardo, who was not old but was always referred to in that way, had dared to change the recipe forthe cheddar croutons. Grandma had called and complained. He had immediately reverted to the former recipe, and peace had been restored in my life.

At least my lunch would be delivered, and the rest of my day could go back to a normal schedule. Then I could relax, and my mood would get better.

A ding from my computer indicated an important email had just landed in my inbox. I frowned and turned to see what it was about. My desk was a huge semicircle, with four monitors, a laptop, and two desktops on it. The laptop and two of the monitors were for work. The two desktops each had a single monitor and were for work on a different game I was developing. I had a Razer Iskur V2 rolling chair I maneuvered between the different workstations. I rolled over to the small area I had devoted to the business side of things and read the email.

“Fuck.” I ran a hand through my already messy hair. A guy in coding needed my help with something. The head of the coding department was on paternity leave, and that left me open to having to talk to some of my team members face to face, which was one of my least favorite things to do.

I stood up with a frustrated growl and stalked out of my cave, as everyone called it, and into the main lobby of the top floor of Lancaster Games. It was referred to as the executive suite, and the only offices up here were mine, my family members’, and Tallon’s. That made me feel more comfortable since I hated talking to people I didn’t know well.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Tallon asked. He was tossing a Rubik’s Cube up in the air and talking to Grandma.

I looked down at myself, just now realizing that I hadn’t changed out of my golf clothes. I was wearing navy golf pants and a white, short-sleeved golf shirt. I hadn’t even changed out of my golf shoes. I wasn’t comfortable in these clothes. I’d bought all of this online and had it rush delivered when I’d realized I would have to take my brother’s place in the tournament.

“I had that fuc…” I glanced at Grandma, who cocked an eyebrow at me. “Um. I had that stupid golf tournament today and haven’t changed yet.”

Tallon’s mouth quirked up on one side. He was well aware of the dynamic between Grandma and me.

“Good save, Jack,” she said. “Cursing is for those with minuscule vocabularies,” she reminded me for about the millionth time.

“Yeah, I know, Grandma. But it sure does make me feel a little better.”

She gave me side-eye but said nothing else about it. “What brought you out of your cave?”

“They’re having an issue in coding onCaveSphere 4,and I have to go talk to…” I frowned. I’d already forgotten the guy’s name that I needed to go see. “What’s that guy’s name who works on sea creatures only?”

“Harold Perkins,” Grandma said.

“Right. I have to go see him.”

“You’d better hurry,” she said. “Your lunch should be here by the time you get back, and you don’t want your soup to get cold.”

No, I did not. I wavered between going now and waiting to talk to Harold Perkins until I’d eaten and changed clothes. I decided I’d rather get it over with.

“I’ll be quick.” That was an understatement. The less time I spent around people, the better.

Tallon snorted. “We know, Jack. You’ll show Perkins how to do whatever it is he needs help with and be back in five minutes.”

He was probably right.

“I’ll be right back,” I said unnecessarily, unused to leaving the top floor at this time of day, and headed to the wall of elevators just outside the doors of the executive suite. There were three, but I only used the middle one. It had been serviced most recently.

I stepped in and pressed the button for the twenty-seventh floor. The doors closed, and the elevator descended right pastthe floor I wanted. That’s when I noticed that the ‘L’ button was lit. I was headed for the lobby.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snarled and fruitlessly, stupidly pressed the number twenty-seven button a few times in the hopes I could get the elevator to change its mind.

I didn’t have any luck, of course.

I rode the rest of the way down with my arms crossed. I must have had a horrible look on my face, because when the doors opened, not one of my employees got on the elevator with me even though several were waiting.

The doors closed, and I saw my face reflected in the mirrored surface. Yep. I looked like a total asshole. Tallon called this my ‘resting bastard face’ look, and he wasn’t wrong.

Satisfied that no one would be riding back up with me, I looked up at the ceiling of the elevator. I don’t know why. It’s just something you do when you’re in an elevator and have nothing else to look at.