Page 56 of Glitched Play

A data point.

A variable.

A potential distraction.

Nothing more.

I close the file again and lean back in my chair. The office is silent and all systems are functioning.

The company is ready.

The launch is on schedule.

The foundation campaign is strong.

Everything is exactly where it should be.

Except my attention.

That keeps returning to a name on a guest list that should not matter.

Chase Bennett.

I hate variables.

eleven

. . .

Maci

Encrypted Message: Rune

The best communities aren't built with code. They're built by the people who make room for someone new.

Saturday morning, I wake up to the sound of the penthouse intercom buzzing like someone is trying to electrocute the wall.

For one blissful second, I have no idea where I am. Then the Austin morning skyline reminds me. My half-unpacked suitcase sits open near the closet, and the softest sheets in the history of rich people wrap around my legs. Right. Witt O'Ryan's penthouse. Temporary housing. Dream job. Questionable life choices. All of it comes rushing back right as the intercom buzzes again.

I stumble out of bed, throw on a robe over my sleep shirt, and pad barefoot toward the panel near the hallway. My hair is a disaster, my eyes feel gritty from staying up too late reading gala details, and I am absolutely not emotionally prepared for human interaction. Which is why I assume it's Dara. Dara seems like the kind of woman who shows up on Saturday morning with a clipboard, a crisis, and a color-coded plan to fix it.

"Hello?" I press the button.

"Buzz me in," a cheerful female voice says.

Not Dara.

Before I can ask who it is, my thumb betrays me and presses the unlock button. The elevator hums to life, and thirty seconds later, the doors slide open to reveal Noelle Stricker with two coffees, oversized sunglasses, a massive tote bag, and a smile bright enough to make the Austin skyline look underdressed.

"Good. You're awake."

I glance down at my robe, then back at her perfect outfit. "That feels generous."

She steps inside like she's been doing it her entire life, which, based on what I've learned about the O'Ryans, she probably has. "I brought coffee, emergency carbs, and the kind of enthusiasm Witt finds emotionally alarming."

"Are you here to see Witt?”

"No.”