Hard Byte

by Misha Bell

  “It’s not for me, dear,” Mom says with mirth in her voice. “I wanted to circle back to Gia.”

  Ah. Pimping out my twin. What else is new?

  Alex pulls out his wallet. “In that case, I’m sorry. My brother is already taken.”

  Yep. Given the way Vlad was looking at Fanny—her face, not her fanny, though I’m sure he looks at it too—he’s all settled.

  I rummage in my purse for my own wallet and realize I never took out Bella’s dildo.

  I mean, my dildo.

  “Gia is too picky,” I say as I carefully bring out the wallet without sending the dildo flying into Mom’s face. “I offered to set her up with Alex’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother, but she refused.”

  “Why?” Mom asks.

  I toss forty-one dollars on the table. “Said he was a manwhore.”

  “Oh, please.” Mom directs a worshipful look at Dad. “Your father was a player in his day, but I—”

  “We really don’t want to hear that,” I say, tugging on Alex’s sleeve.

  I’d bet a thousand quid the rest of Mom’s sentence was going to be “tamed him with my pussy.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Crystal,” Alex says and gives her another peck on the cheek. “And you, Harry.” He shakes Dad’s hand.

  Though she’s never worn pearls in her life, Mom clutches the place where they would be as she gasps, “The pleasure was all mine.”

  Dad clears his throat.

  “I mean ours,” Mom amends hastily.

  Right. Like we could forget the pleasure Dad took in touching my pretend date.

  “Bye,” both parents say in unison.

  “Do svidaniya,” Alex and I say, also in unison, before rushing out of the restaurant.

  “Thanks,” I mumble weakly as we get into the elevator in our building.

  “What for?” he asks, his lips curving in that devilish way of his.

  “For pretending to be my boyfriend.”

  His smirk grows more wicked. “Pretending?”

  The doors open, and he gestures for me to come out.

  I do so on unsteady legs, so shell-shocked I can’t think straight.

  Of course he was bloody pretending. He can’t be my boyfriend without my being aware of it.

  Right?

  Chapter Thirty

  “Ready for our testing?” he asks, following me out of the elevator.

  With effort, I pull together my scattered wits. “I need to call my sister first. It’s best she hears about the lunch disaster from me.”

  He nods. “Come to my office when you’re ready.”

  In a daze, I watch him stride away. Then I step into the first empty conference room and dial Gia.

  “Hey,” she says. “How was your lunch as me? Did you feel much, much hotter?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and explain what happened.

  Gia sighs. “I should’ve known.” To my relief, she doesn’t sound overly pissed. “You’re a shitty liar.”

  “Sorry again.”

  “You know what this means, right?”

  “What?” I can already tell I won’t like it.

  “You still owe me. And this time, I think I’ll use you in one of my upcoming illusions—unless even just standing on a stage without talking is too much deception for you to handle?”

  “I’ll help you with your bloody illusion. I said I was sorry.”

  “Fine. I’m going to call our parents and grovel.”

  “Good luck,” I tell her and hang up.

  “What’s with the outfit?” Alison asks when I exit the conference room.

  Bugger. Forgot about my Gia guise.

  “Long story,” I answer and rush to my desk to grab the box with the change of clothing.

  De-vampirefied, I head over to Alex’s office, my heart pounding and my legs wobbly once again.

  When I step inside, a suit my size is sprawled on the couch. Next to it is a bigger suit that must be for him.

  What the hell? We’re testing at the same time?

  I picture him creating a replica of me in VR, and every inch of me catches fire.

  Alex looks away from his screen. “Ready?”

  I gulp.

  I suppose there’s no help for it.

  My face feeling like fresh lava, I reach for the buttons of my shirt with trembling fingers.

  He frowns. “What are you doing?”

  I blink at him. “Last time I used the suit, the instructions said to do so nude.”

  His eyes darken and rake over my body, as if he’s picturing me exactly that way. When his gaze returns to my face, spots of color burn on the edges of his high cheekbones. “We’re not going to be testing the features that require that.” His voice is tinged with hoarseness. “I’m keeping my clothes on, and I suggest you do the same.”

  Oh. Okay then. I don’t know whether to be mortified or relieved. There may be some disappointment mixed in too.

  He walks up to the bigger suit.

  “Hold on,” I blurt. “You’re doing it at the same time?”

  “Why not?” he asks, his eyes gleaming.

  The man is a bloody enigma.

  Not asking any more questions, I get inside the suit.

  Like before, there’s a single app in there, labeled Demo.

  Bollocks. Even with clothes on, seeing naked Alex—assuming that’s who I want to assemble—will be awkward with him here. Not to mention, I’m already jealous of whatever VR woman he’ll create for himself.

  No helping it.

  I launch the Demo.

  I find myself in a white room again, and at first, it seems like the demo has skipped right to the cock selection.

  Except these shimmering, multicolor phallic objects aren’t penises, or peni, or penes—I still haven’t looked up the proper plural. They aren’t dildoes either, though I guess anything can be a dildo if you’re brave enough.

  They’re swords.

  Laser swords that remind me of lightsabers from Star Wars, and metal swords of various kinds, everything from broadswords to katanas. The variety is not quite as exhaustive as with the cocks, but close.

  Is this a demo of some weird fetish?

  I choose a blue laser sword because it seems like the least sharp one. Even though I doubt I can be penetrated with it while my clothes are on—or that penetration is even part of what’s about to happen—it’s still better to be safe than sorry.

  The sword feels good in my hand, and when I slice from side to side, the shimmering blade hums.

  Neat.

  Suddenly, Alex appears in front of me.

  Not the real one, but a close approximation—and, sadly, dressed in a tunic and a black cloak.

  “Good choice,” he says and salutes me with a red laser sword.

  “Are you real?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  “How?” I look down and see I’m wearing an outfit identical to his.

  “This is a multiplayer demo. I had my team at 1000 Devils prepare it. This is a small portion of a game we put out on another VR platform, but Robert’s people have adapted it to the full suit.”

  “Wow.” I wave the sword in a wide arc. “This will make the testing so much less awkward.”

  “That’s the point,” he says. “Want to spar a little?”

  Without answering, I stab him.

  Or try to.

  He parries my attack and slashes at my leg—which the suit turns into a slightly unpleasant pressure on my thigh.

  He throws down his sword. “Now tell me, did our code change help with the issue you saw?”

  “Let’s see.” I let go of my sword as well. “Come over and try to grab my shoulder while I catch your wrist. That should approximate the wonky part of your sister’s demo.”

  I’m glad my VR face doesn’t show my real-world emotions. The previous demo’s Alex tried to grab something a lot more private than my shoulder.

  He saunters over and reaches for me.

  I grab his wr
ist and hold, enjoying the solid feel.

  How in the world am I turned on by this?

  Why is my real-world heart racing from touching his avatar?

  “Better?” he asks.

  “Very nice,” I murmur.

  “So the fix helped?”

  Oh. Right. Work stuff.

  I let go of his wrist and step back. “Yeah. A little better. Lots of work still to do.” I reach out and touch his chest, doing my best not to hyperventilate at the warm sensation. “Slight timing issues abound.”

  He nods. “How about we fix more of them?”

  “Sure.” I reluctantly drop my hand. “Though I think there are so many, we might want to write them up and delegate a bunch to my team.”

  “Of course.” He reaches for his head and disappears.

  I reluctantly take off my headset as well, then wriggle out of the suit.

  “Ready to pair again?” he asks.

  I pull up a chair to his desk. “Can I drive?”

  He lets me, and I spend some time describing the issues that need fixing and assigning a bunch of tasks to the appropriate developers.

  The exciting—and terrifying—thing is that Alex insists “we” keep a bunch to work on “ourselves.”

  “Don’t you have some responsibilities at 1000 Devils?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Bella needs me. We have to get the suits ready for production.”

  I turn from the monitor to meet his very distracting cerulean eyes. “So who will be porting the games for the hospital project?”

  “My people at 1000 Devils. There’s actually a dedicated team for that.”

  A peculiarly warm sensation unfurls in my chest.

  Must be hope about the VR pet therapy. It can’t be joy at the prospect of working side by side with Alex for the foreseeable future. Because that wouldn’t do. Not at all.

  “That reminds me,” he says. “I wanted to see your VR pet therapy for myself.”

  Would it look unprofessional if I jumped up and down with glee?

  I love showing off my work to anyone even remotely curious, but the idea of Alex seeing it tickles me on a different level. I wonder if this is what a single mom might feel when a guy she’s been dating finally meets her child for the first time. Except, of course, Euclid isn’t a real child, and Alex and I aren’t dating.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say and hurry out of his office to get a headset and gloves from my desk, the ones with my Euclid setup.

  “Mind if I stream what you’ll be doing to your monitor?” I ask Alex when I’m back.

  He doesn’t mind, so I set it up.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  Alex puts on the gear, and I walk him through which app to launch.

  “Wow,” he says when the purple otter-meets-Teletubby creature shows up in front of him. “Aren’t you a cute one.”

  “Hi, Holly,” Euclid sing-songs. “I mished you.”

  I smile. Just seeing my little VR pet on Alex’s monitor gives me a jolt of joy.

  “He thinks I’m you,” Alex says with a grin.

  With the headset on, he can’t see me staring at his lips, so I allow myself to enjoy that sexy smile.

  On the screen, Euclid’s fur turns a mix of colors that indicates confusion. “What are you talking about? You can be so shilly.”

  I walk over and rise on tiptoe to whisper into Alex’s ear. “Of course he thinks you’re me. It’s not like there’s a camera inside the headset.”

  How did I resist the urge to lick that ear?

  “You’re right,” Alex says.

  “I’m always right.” Euclid turns a proud brown shade. “That means you really are shilly.”

  Wow. Very good response. The cool thing about AI is that it can sometimes surprise you.

  Grin widening, Alex bends down and fluffs Euclid’s fur until it’s a happy purple again. “You’re right, little one. I can be very silly indeed.”

  Hey now. Was that a dig? After all, Euclid thinks he’s talking to me.

  “I’m ravenoush,” Euclid says and does his hungry dance.

  “What do I do?” Alex mouths.

  I again enjoy whispering the instructions into his ear. Also breathing in his scent.

  I’m not being creepy. Not at all.

  Looking almost giddy, Alex extends his hand to get the digital snacks to appear on his palm. Then he feeds Euclid each and every one with an enthusiasm that rivals mine.

  Bugger. My ovaries are aching as I watch Alex do all this, and they go into overdrive when the two start to play fetch and I see the joy on his face.

  If this little test is anything to go by, Alex would make a great daddy to some lucky little human.

  Perhaps a little human that I make for him?

  Wait. What? I’ve never had these kinds of thoughts about a man before. It’s way creepier than sniffing him, if we’re being honest.

  “I’d better go,” Alex tells Euclid reluctantly. “I have a friend waiting for me.”

  Euclid’s fur turns several shades of gray before settling on a light teal. “Shee you later. I wove you.”

  Alex hugs him. “Love you too, bud.”

  Okay. I’m officially a puddle of swoon.

  Alex looks reluctant as he removes the headset.

  I hide improper feelings as quickly as I can.

  “Amazing job,” he says when he can see me again. “He’s the next best thing to mainlining oxytocin.”

  I feel all floaty all of a sudden, like I’ve just mainlined oxytocin myself. “Little known fact,” I say without thinking. “Oxytocin can produce more frequent and more powerful orgasms in women. Most people think it’s just for fostering feelings of bonding, but it does so much more.”

  Blimey. Why did I just rattle out all of that? I need to get myself off, and soon. Orgasms are too much on my mind, so much so I’m talking about them with my boss like the creep I’m turning into.

  Or my mom.

  Alex chuckles. “Don’t tell Bella. Knowing her, she’ll start wondering how to incorporate Euclid into the pleasure functions of the suit.”

  All the blood leaves my face. With everything going on, I’ve almost forgotten about the porn-shaped sword of Damocles hanging over my VR pet project.

  He frowns. “I’m kidding. She wouldn’t actually do that.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “I’m just worried NYU Langone will not work out.” There. It’s actually the truth… just not the whole truth.

  He walks over and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “We’re going to kill at that meeting tomorrow. I promise.”

  I fight the tsunami of oxytocin to raise a questioning eyebrow. “Tomorrow?”

  “Well, yeah. Weren’t you copied on the invite from Dr. Piper?”

  “No.” I grab the headset and gloves. “I’ll be right back.”

  I sprint to my desk, stash the gear, and check my inbox.

  Sure enough, there’s an invite for a meeting at NYU Langone tomorrow morning.

  The jittery excitement I feel as I dash back clears away whatever remained of my hangover.

  “Want me to walk you through my strategy for the meeting?” Alex asks as I come in.

  “Yes. Please.”

  He puts up a presentation on his screen and explains that someone on Robert’s team prepared it for him.

  Note to self: learn to delegate better. I totally would’ve done the presentation myself by staying late, and then I would’ve felt like rubbish the next day.

  Alex walks me through the presentation, which includes the games they plan to pitch for phase one—all kid-appropriate and the furthest thing from porn.

  “When can all this be ported to the suit?” I ask. It’s the closest I can come to, “Do you think this can be finished before they somehow find out about the porn connection?”

  Alex closes the presentation. “Robert is comfortable with a pretty aggressive timeline.”

  If I didn’t already want to kiss him (again), I’d want to kiss h
im now.

  But no.

  Professional and proper is my new motto.

  “So,” Alex says. “What are your plans for the rest of today?”

  “I’m game for us to pair,” I say.

  Bugger. That didn’t sound either professional or proper.

  “Great.” He takes his seat. “Can I drive?”

  We begin to program together, and I lose track of time. Whenever he explains the logic behind his code changes, I feel myself getting deeper into trouble. If my inappropriate attraction to him was mostly physical at the start, I’m now just as drawn in by the way his mind works—and that’s not good. That way dwell feelings that I’m not ready to have for anyone, let alone my boss.

  When we switch and I get to drive, things aren’t that much better. Alex has a dangerous habit of telling me how clever he thinks I am. There’s only so much praise I can take before I strip off my clothes and beg him to ravage me on the couch.

  Or on the desk.

  Maybe right in this chair?

  “I’m starving,” Alex says, pulling me out of my licentious thoughts.

  I glance at the clock in the corner of his screen.

  It’s eight. Way past my usual dinner time.

  As if to confirm that, my treacherous stomach rumbles like a bloody motorcycle.

  “That’s it.” He jumps to his feet. “The least I can do is buy you dinner.”

  Dinner?

  All I can do is flap my eyelashes at him in shock.

  “Let’s go.” He holds the door for me.

  Mind spinning, I step out of the office onto the now-empty floor.

  Bella pops her head out of her office. “Hey, guys.”

  “Privet,” I say. “We’re going to dinner. Want to join us?”

  Boom. Inviting a guy’s sister makes the dinner not a date.

  “Thanks, but I already ate.” She winks at me. “You two go on ahead.”

  Bollocks. She’s playing Emma again.

  I guess this is happening.

  As he herds me to the elevator, Alex asks what food I’m in the mood for.

  “Sushi,” I say without thinking.

  Ugh. Could I be any more boring and predictable? To make this worse, my parents flat out told him I eat the same thing all the time.

  “I’m so glad you suggested it,” he says, sounding earnest. “I want their chicken teriyaki.”