IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(78)

That’s when I noticed the third thing: a topless Kylo Ren was on stage giving the presentation. Or at least someone dressed as Kylo Ren. I swallowed a surprised laugh. Why in the world had James chosen to dress as the Supreme Leader of the First Order when he was a Trekkie all the way. And since when did he have such a toned chest?

I squinted and stepped a little closer.

Holy hot kyber crystals, that wasn’t James.

The door slammed behind me with a bang, earning me several annoyed glances. I ignored them. Instead, I snuck closer, nudging a few people to the side so I could get a better view of what the hell was going on. Had they switched the schedule around? Had I missed the presentation entirely? But no, that was one of my printers on the table in front of Kylo, which meant I was definitely at the right place and right time. But that was definitely not my friend in the black and silver eye mask.

Then I heard the voice coming over the loudspeaker.

Wells’s voice.

Deep and rumbling and so familiar it made my knees weak. And not only did the bees in my belly get shaken up again, but the lid came off the jar, spilling them all out. My entire body jangled with a mix of confusion, nerves, excitement, and terror.

I didn’t understand why he was here. And where was James? He’d texted me earlier that morning to say he had everything under control at the booth, but then where was he? A panic began to send my pulse soaring. This was a disaster. Everything I’d worked for, all of my plans and dreams and—

My thoughts were interrupted by my name on Wells’s lips. Familiar and yet foreign at the same time that it froze me in my tracks.

“Conor Newell wasn’t the first person to bring 3-D printing to the gaming world, but he was the first person to make customizing and printing your own affordable game pieces something accessible and affordable to people without their own 3-D printing equipment or advanced design skills.”

I brought my hands to my mouth. How the hell did he know that? I’d never talked specifics with him about this part of the business, only that I printed 3-D game pieces for customers. I hadn’t even told him about my custom design work.

“By relying on a large database of custom design components he designed before starting his business,” he continued, “Conor can create most custom designs in a fraction of the time it would take other designers to create something from scratch. If you stop by booth #1207, you’ll be able to show us a photo of any toy or structure and see how quickly we can replicate it in our program and get it printed for you.”

I blinked, realization filtering in slowly. He was actually giving the presentation on my competitive advantage. And it seemed like he was doing a pretty good job of it. And if what he said was true, he was actually the one demonstrating the design software and printer in the booth. How in the world was that even possible?

I watched as he clicked a remote in his hand, the movement drawing my attention back to his body. He was bare-chested, tanned, and toned. His actual physique wasn’t any different than it had been when I’d had the pleasure of running my hands and mouth over it several weeks before, but the way he wore that villain costume made my dick hard in my pants.

Since when had weaselly Kylo Ren ever done a damned thing for my libido?

Despite having a black cape across his shoulders and high-waisted pants, there was enough of him on display that I wondered if it explained the standing-room-only situation in the room. I was trapped between being proud as hell and wildly jealous.

Though even if his body was what had brought everyone to the presentation, the man had an undeniable presence in front of a room full of people. All of them watched him on stage, almost enraptured. It was obvious from looking at them that if they hadn’t been interested in my printing services before the session, they certainly were now.

Wells gestured to the big projector screen over his shoulder. “In the meantime, here are some close-up photographs so you can see the level of detail and precision we’re able to accomplish in such a short period of time. The production time is noted on each photo. What this means for you is quick turnaround from concept to holding your custom piece in your hand. And because it takes us so much less time to manufacture your piece, it’s more affordable. We’re able to create more of your ideas in less time and for less money.”

My brain stuttered, like a car engine choking and stalling out, when I realized what he’d just said. We. We’re able to do this.

He spoke the words so passionately, as if he were a part of this project. As if my game piece printing business was something he believed in and cared about.

As if all of this mattered to him as much as it mattered to me.

I stared at him as the reason for his presence sunk in. He was there to give my presentation in my stead. He was there to make sure my fledgling company had the strongest start it could—not by buying it out or investing money in it but by swallowing his Brioni-clad pride to don a Star Wars costume.

For me.

“The realistic effects you can achieve with this technology make your imaginary game pieces attainable in real life.” He beamed, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “If you can imagine it, Conor Newell can create it. And have it on your doorstep by Friday’s game night.”

Several people began to clap, but Wells held up a hand, quieting them. The room fell silent. “I’ve spent most of this presentation discussing the technology, but I’d like to end with a little bit more about the man behind the tech.”