Worth Any Cost: (Adam & Mia #4) (Gaming The System Book 6)

by Brenna Aubrey

  She smirked. “Why do you think I got into yoga in the first place? Show him this pose and he’ll be plowing you in minutes.”

  I interrupted my calm breathing to laugh at her. “Stop it. I’m going to fall over and injure something important.”

  “Keep breathing.”

  I complied, feeling the stretch in my lower back, all along my hamstrings and calves. Around me, the steady rhythm of the weight machines and the relentless pounding of footsteps on the treadmill kept time. We had staked out a corner of the Draco campus gym for this private yoga lesson. I’d made the mistake of telling Kat that I wanted to start yoga, but hadn’t yet due to self-consciousness. She’d volunteered to get me started.

  The girl always surprised me with her hidden skills. And typically, they were somehow tied to sex.

  “Speaking of sex. When are we finding you Mr. Right Now?” I asked.

  She grinned. “I don’t need Mr. Right Now. I only need Mr. Makes-Me-Come. You throw me your bouquet at the wedding and I’m kicking your ass so hard there will be no sex—easy plow or otherwise—on your honeymoon. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Ugh. Don’t even mention the wedding or this yoga session is going to do the opposite of calming me.”

  Kat’s brow rose. “Oh yeah? That bad?”

  I inhaled and exhaled like she’d showed me before responding. “It’s just…we can’t agree on what we are doing.”

  “Well, you need to have that discussion with him soon. You’re getting married on New Year’s Eve, right? That’s only months away.”

  I blew out another long breath. “Again, I thought this yoga session was to decrease stress?”

  “Yo, Cranberry!” someone called from the other side of the gym. “What are you doing in here?”

  Kat’s head whipped up, and her eyes narrowed. With a grimace, she flipped the bird at whoever it was. “Staying in shape. Something you’re obviously not familiar with, Jedi boy. I’m shocked you even knew there was a gym in the building.”

  “Have you checked the leaderboard lately?” he asked, voice fading as he walked away from us. Clearly, he’d been passing through and had taken the opportunity to taunt Kat.

  Kat watched him go and then began muttering. “Jerkwad.”

  “Who was that?”

  “The bane of my existence.”

  “Oh…Lucas from play testing again?”

  Technically, he was her boss, but the hierarchy over there was kind of murky and confusing. Those gameplay testers were as competitive as test pilots. And Lucas and Kat had some kind of frenemies-intense rivalry going on that I, despite being a gamer girl myself, didn’t fully understand.

  “What was the leaderboard thing all about?” I asked. “Is that something new? And can I get the hell out of this pose yet? I’m starting to feel like a human pretzel.”

  Kat gently helped extricate me from the Easy Plow—seriously, I would not be showing Adam that pose anytime soon, despite Kat’s promise of great sex. Our sex life was already fantastic, thank you very much. I sat up slowly, careful not to pull any muscles. The blood rushed from my head, and I blinked, waiting for the lightheaded feeling to fade.

  “Ah, he means the Twitch TV leaderboard. He’s jealous as fuck because I’ve got more subscribers than he does. Forget about him. I can help you with some meditation next.”

  I cocked a brow at her. “Why don’t you two just bang and get it over with?” I asked, repeating something she’d often said about another couple we knew that had bickered like Time Lords and Daleks before they’d gotten together.

  Her brow arched up at me. “I don’t shit where I eat. Never screw someone you work with.”

  “Ah.” Luckily, that wasn’t an official rule, or there’d be a lot of people fired around here.

  Kat led me through some meditation, and then we sat on the mat while I consumed water by the bottleful and blotted my sweaty head with a soft white towel. “Well, thanks for that. I really needed a study break. But even thirty minutes away from the books these days gets me twitchy.”

  Kat unscrewed her bottle cap and threw me a long look. “Well, we should take a few more minutes, at least. I need to talk to you about Heath.”

  I hadn’t seen Heath in almost a month, since our tea shop meeting with Camille. We hadn’t managed to connect much since then. I’d only started back at school a week ago, and already the second year of medical school—called M2—was promising to kick my butt. And Heath had grown quieter and more subdued, during the few months since Connor had left.

  But Kat, as his roommate, had more current info. So I asked, “How’s he doing?”

  “He was doing okay till we all got the news that Connor’s dad had died.”

  I nodded, remembering the stoic email we’d all received from Ireland. “Poor Connor. We sent his family a basket. It’s so sad. I think they were expecting him to make a full recovery.”

  Kat fiddled with her water bottle. “Yeah, well, now Connor is saying he needs to stay longer, help out his family.”

  “Understandable.” I shrugged. “I’m sure this has put quite a burden on them all. And Connor being the eldest—”

  Kat’s lips thinned. “They had an argument about it. Heath was shouting at him over Skype.”

  That seemed unusually insensitive of Heath. I frowned. “What’s this really about?”

  “Heath thinks Connor’s not coming back. That he’s returned to Ireland for good because his family needs him.”

  I bit my lip and chewed on it. “And why does Heath think that?”

  Kat shook her head and took another sip of water, the plastic of her bottle crackling as she tightened her grip on it. Her lips whitened, too. “He’s not doing so hot, Mia. He’s either spending hours on the game or he’s drinking. He’s behind on all his web design deadlines, or so I suspect. I think he’s starting to fall apart.”

  Ugh. Worry gripped me, but at the same time, my eyes drifted over to my book bag and the massive stack of notes, highlighted articles, and papers I knew were inside. I had so much to do to prepare for the Step 1 Medical Board exam that all M2 students had to pass. My gut tightened—shades of my MCAT failure as an undergrad had come back to haunt me…and then some.

  And a wedding to plan.

  And a ghost fiancé to connect with somewhere in that mix.

  I’d come over to his workplace today to spend time with him and instead hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the elusive CEO beast. He ran—sometimes literally—from meeting to meeting. And at night, half the time he wasn’t home, either out on the road on some trip or managing a crisis that apparently only he could oversee.

  I licked my lips and fidgeted. “I’ll talk to Heath, but…” I shrugged, suddenly awash with hopelessness. “I have no idea what I can do for him or even how.”

  More crackling from her now-empty bottle. I reached out and gently took it from her grip. The sound was driving me up a tree. Kat cleared her throat. “I think that making the effort will help a lot. I’ve tried, but…you know damn well that I’m not as close to him as you are. Not by a long shot.”

  I smiled at her. “I’m thankful that you’re there. Imagine how much worse this could be if he were dealing with this completely alone. Problem is he’s going to be all belligerent if I show up after not getting together with him in weeks and suddenly ask him to spill his troubles to me.”

  She rocked from side to side on the mat as if trying to get comfortable. “Why don’t I invite you over for movie night or something? Then I could, uh, get a phone call and disappear into my room.”

  I blinked, shifting my gaze to my friend. “Wow, you’re good at this stuff.”

  She nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Better keep your eye on me.”

  “I fully intend to.”

  We chatted some more, firming up plans for the Heath ambush, and also discussed other things…her Twitch TV following and her rivalry with Lucas Walker.

  I bit my tongue, noting how her fists tensed
when she talked. I knew Lucas—barely—and remembered that he was good looking. And Kat had not dated a single soul since coming to California from Canada when I was sick the year before. She’d dropped everything—her entire life, her job, everything—to come south and be with me.

  But she rarely talked about home or her family, and it worried me sometimes.

  I finally did catch a glimpse of the elusive fiancé—on his way out the door to the dinner meeting he’d told me about.

  “Hey! Not even a drive-by smooch?” I called, chasing after him as he strode toward his car. He slowed his gait—but, notably, did not stop—and held out his hand, which I grabbed.

  “Sorry. I’m already late.” His fingers closed around mine—too tightly.

  “Why aren’t you and Jordan driving there together? Looks like he’s late, too.” I nodded to Jordan’s massive SUV parked beside Adam’s Tesla.

  “Eh, screw him,” he muttered, and before I could ask, he threw an arm around my waist and pulled me into a kiss—again, harder than normal. I reached up to push against his shoulder to ease him off a bit and almost gasped at the tension in his entire frame. He was wound so tight he seemed about to break.

  When I pulled away, he was already halfway into his car. A glance over my shoulder revealed Jordan coming out of the front doors at a half-run. His eyes narrowed when they landed on Adam’s back. Were these two not getting along? What the hell?

  “Don’t forget you live with someone, and I’m trying to keep my bedtime at a decent hour. I’m not waiting up till midnight for you.”

  He started the car. It whirred to life. Even though I drove one very similar to this, I still couldn’t get used to how quiet they were. “I’ll be home before you go to bed.”

  “How much before?” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “Enough before,” he said with a smirk and a gleam in his eyes before he hid them behind his sexy Aviator sunglasses. Then he backed out of his space, and I shifted my weight, jutting out my hip and feigning a scowl as I watched him go. Of course, he’d get home in time for bedtime sex. He only missed that when he was out of the country.

  Jordan had paused by his car to watch Adam drive off, his eyes still narrowed. I turned around and looked at him.

  “Hey, Jordan.”

  He nodded at me as he threw his briefcase into his car.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Just fine. See ya, Mia.”

  “Tell April—” But he’d already jumped in, slammed the door and started the car, waving to me as he pulled out.

  Weirder and weirder.

  Adam made it home in time—barely. I’d drifted to sleep slumped over my textbooks in my study, and he carried me to bed. When I sleepily responded that he was too late for bedtime sex, he apologized and said he’d make amends and devote the entire weekend to me.

  It was enough to convince me to rescind my punishment. When it came to Adam, I was an easy lay.

  So the weekend was mine. And he kept his word. Mostly.

  He did spend some time attached to his evil phone, however. Even when we went for dinner at Peter and my mom’s house—this time on Saturday night instead of Sunday, because Mom wanted some alone time with the two of us. Adam and I were anticipating some kind of premarital counseling session or something.

  But hey, she made moussaka, one of my favorite dishes to ever come out of her oven, and our chef, while very talented, rarely did Greek, so who was I to argue? I’d sit through some well-meaning advice if it meant I could scarf down Mom’s awesome food.

  “Damn, that was good,” I said, picking up the last bits of custard and meat from my plate. It had been eons since Mom had made moussaka. In fact, the last time was the night she told me about her cancer biopsy. I frowned at that thought. The dish was labor intensive—multiple layers, each taking lots of chopping, mincing, and sautéing to execute. She hadn’t made it in years…

  But she’d made it tonight. Had this somehow morphed into the “bad news” meal? Were Peter and Mom going to get a divorce or, worse, have a baby or something?

  I studied her suspiciously. She kept darting nervous glances at Peter, who would look at me. And if he noticed me watching them, he’d clear his throat and ask a question or change the subject.

  Adam, as usual, engaged in a love affair with his phone. Mostly it would beep at him. He’d check it and then stick it back in his pocket.

  Finally, I turned to him. “Any interest in turning that off?”

  He smirked at me. “Not really?”

  “What if I threaten to give you a wedgie?”

  “It would be amusing to see you try.”

  “Turn off the phone, or when you least expect it…expect it.”

  His dark brows climbed his forehead. “Resorting to threats?”

  “It’s not a threat—it’s a promise.” I rubbed my hands together. “Atomic wedgie time.”

  “He’s six feet tall and one and a half times your weight. How are you going to give him a wedgie?” my mom asked.

  I shrugged. “I’ll figure out a way.”

  Adam gave one last glance at his phone. “I’d better shut it off. I’m really scared right now.” He feigned biting his fingernails in fear as he pointedly turned off the device.

  I snickered. Usually a joke or two like that was all it took to remind him that he was being irritating with his goddamn phone. I used to get madder at him, but I’d come to the conclusion long ago that most of the time, when he was in work mode, he didn’t even realize he was being rude.

  That was what spouses were for, right? To when you were screwing up?

  I winked at him and pointed to the last bit of moussaka on his plate with my fork. “You going to eat that?”

  In a split second, he speared the morsel with his fork and popped it into his mouth. “Yep,” he said after he’d swallowed then winked right back at me.

  “Balls,” I muttered.

  Both Peter and Mom started laughing.

  “Never going to be a dull moment at your house, that’s for sure,” Peter said after the laughter had died down.

  Adam’s eyes were glowing with amusement when he looked over at me. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he grinned and chucked my cheek. “Nope, the word dull can never be applied to us. That’s true.” His hand opened. and he smoothed it across my cheek.

  I turned my head and kissed his palm before he dropped it. Our gazes locked with promises of more kisses later, when we were alone. If he stayed off his damn phone long enough, that was.

  Whatever this server data center project was he was working on lately, I’d be damned relieved once it was over. His work stress level was ridiculous. I was going to need to work up the courage to have “the talk” with him. Hopefully, he wouldn’t start rolling his eyes and tuning me out whenever I brought up the phrase work-life balance.

  “Well, since we’re all in a good mood…I need to pass something along to you, Mia.” Mom reached over to her purse on the adjacent table, pulled an envelope out, and slid it across the table to me.

  It had my full name typed on it and was a legal-sized manila envelope. “Are you serving me papers, Mother? Am I about to be sued?”

  Mom’s long, thin fingers tapped the surface of the dinner table nervously. “No…not suing you. I’ll save that for later when I seek a refund for all the ballet lessons I footed. They never paid off.”

  “Ballet? As in a little pink tutu?” Adam said, turning to me with a huge grin.

  I held up a hand to block out his commentary. “I’ll deal with you later. Now…back to the woman who birthed me.” I tapped the envelope with my finger. “What is this?”

  Mom’s mouth thinned. She’d likely been hoping I’d open it straight away so she wouldn’t have to explain. She nodded to it. “It’s, uh, from Glen Dempsey.”

  I ripped my hand from the envelope as if it had morphed into a poisonous scorpion.

  Mom expelled a breath. “Oh, come on, Mia.”

  Adam’s eyes fl
icked from my mother to me and back again. “Who is Glen Dempsey?”

  Mom waited quietly while I sorted through a complex but brief progression of emotions—shock, dismay, surprise, anger, curiosity. About two minutes into that process, while I sat fidgeting and frowning at the envelope, Mom finally answered Adam’s question.

  “Glen is Mia’s half-brother.”

  Adam did not respond, but returned his gaze intently to me. When I looked up, he cocked his head at me. “I thought you didn’t know your half-siblings.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t. I have no idea what this guy wants. And I don’t much care.”

  Mom admitted, “It’s my fault. I, um, contacted his father.”

  I was sure my face showed the shock and disgust I was feeling at the thought of what it must have taken for my mother to do that. To reach out after twenty-four years and make contact with the man who’d lied to her, used her, and then dropped her like a hot rock when she was barely more than a teenager herself.

  “Why… Just, why would you do that?”

  “Because you got really sick and I realized I didn’t know half of your medical history. So I asked him for medical and genetic records.”

  I took a deep breath and then released it. Well, it made sense. My mom had shown a lot of initiative—and courage—to make the contact.

  “So I presume this is his information?”

  “Not exactly…he wouldn’t comply to my request.”

  I raised my brow, unwilling to think too long or hard about that information, but aware of the vague sting at his rejection. Yet again. It didn’t matter how long ago I’d come to peace with it, it still hurt. What a piece of shit.

  Mom cleared her throat and continued. “Somehow Glen got hold of my letter and contacted me, volunteering to provide his own information if that would help.”

  Suddenly, Adam’s hand was on mine, and his fingers closed tightly. “You okay?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be? Newsflash, my father’s an asshole. I already knew that.”

  Mom sighed heavily. “It’s probably because the communication came from me. I’m sure he’s avoided anything with my name on it for legal reasons. I, ah, signed a non-communication agreement with him when he gave me the settlement over you. Don’t take it personally.”