“No, you’re right. I don’t have the same kind of energy as Damian for the people and creative side.” I let out a long breath. “When he got into the design work with the teams … it was really something.”
It feels like a lifetime since I had my once trustworthy business partner and friend with me to deal with the game development, so I could focus on the business side.
That’s how it was from the very beginning when we dreamt up Infinio Games while playing on his dad’s computer and reading his old comic books.
Back when Damian was scribbling and drawing new ideas throughout his notebooks and even on the walls in his bedroom—designing games was all he wanted to do. Before money and popularity consumed him.
“Don’t give him too much credit, Mark. He was our friend, sure, but in hindsight…” Aiden shrugs, leaning back again in his chair. “I dunno.”
“Let’s talk about something other than that, please,” I say, leaning onto my knees, finding the faces of my three closest friends who I still trust to be who I think they are.
“Easy!” Aiden jumps to the edge of his seat. “Ready for the masquerade this Saturday, guys?” His golden-brown face breaks into that wide grin of his, steel-blue eyes glinting with excitement. “It’s finally here!”
For over six months, he’s been planning the elaborate marketing scheme for his new restaurant. And it kicks off this Saturday with an extra-exclusive VVIP masquerade party here at his flagship establishment, The Orion.
I expect music royalty, actual royalty, artists, movie stars, entrepreneurs, old money, and new money; but only the most influential. The most relevant to Aiden’s development plans.
And the special touch; everyone must be unrecognisablein masks and costumes matching the May Day Wonderland theme.
Because who will be watching?
The paparazzi.
Influencers.
The gossip bloggers—especiallyWhat Happens in Mayfair.
Right now, I can’t think of anything I’d like to do less than mingling, let alone at an event where a part of the world is watching, even if it’s only through the crack of the door, so to speak.
After Damian blew up the company and put me in the limelight with him, I had to withdraw my official investment for Aiden’s restaurant and club, which I hated doing. But I found a way to be a silent, personal investor instead so I could support my friend.
“Can I just hide in here?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“Funny,” Aiden says, grimacing to the others. “You should enjoy the opportunity to be anonymous.”
“Except for the obvious reason of avoiding Damian-related attention, I can’t think of any. Enlighten me, will you?”
“Come on, you could meet a woman who doesn’t know who you are. You can ruffle up those stylish waves of yours and really connect with someone.”
This comment earns a groan from our forever-bachelor friend, Sebastian. He mimes dry heaving, and Aiden sends him an icy glare before turning back to me.
“You’re turning thirty-six soon, mate!”
“You sound like my mother. Get these two to settle down instead, will you?” I wave to the others.
“Hey, I’m only thirty-two,” Elliott counters, leaning back in his armchair, raking a hand through his brown hair. “All the time in the world, unlike you.”
“And I choose to ignore this conversation,” Sebastianmutters into his Old Fashioned and gives it what’s left of his attention.
“There’s more to life than work, Mark,” Aiden chirps.
Says the man who lives and breathes his Mayfair clubs.
“Bloody hell, I swear you’re regurgitating my mother’s exact words,” I say, only half joking this time, and not wasting any more energy on this ridiculous conversation.
Aiden knows I would never prioritise something as frivolous as another shallow and predictable dating attempt when my company needs every spare minute of my time. And even if I met someone I’d want to see again, I can’t imagine what I’d have to offer them at the end of the workday. An hour here and there? What’s the point?
When I want to get laid, I get laid; it’s much simpler. I know several high-flying lawyers and execs who are on the same page as me, and we keep it discreet.
