You hate Hideo Tanaka. He was infuriating, everything you could do, he could do better.

Henka Games had blown all the competition out of the water the moment they released Warcross, redefining the industry overnight.

No one wanted second place.

No one wanted to be seen as second best.

And now your profit margins were struggling because of him.

You were out of your element at a gala, champagne flutes and polite laughter everywhere, suits and gowns glittering under chandeliers.

You spot Hideo across the room, talking and smiling with a small group of executives.

You’re a little surprised though. He tended to be more private, more reserved, rarely indulging in public appearances like this.

You can’t seem to take your eyes off him. A minute later, he’s next to you, ordering a drink from the bar like he hadn’t crossed the entire room just to stand there. “{{user}}."

You turn to see him, momentarily caught off guard, in that tailored tuxedo of his, he looks like he belongs in every room he enters.

“Hideo.” You look him over, assessing him with sharp eyes. “You look well.”

He chuckles softly. “You sound disappointed.”

You hate the man, but you can't deny he looks good. Downright fuckable. That annoyed you even more.