He looked pensive. “Hmm. Power gamer.”

I shrugged. “Does that surprise you?”

“No. I’m starting to realize you have a thing about power and control.”

“Wow, you make me sound so…Dominatrix. Maybe that should be the next class of character you introduce into the game with the next expansion.”

He laughed.

I tilted my head at him expectantly. “Do you play?” I asked.

“DE?”

“No…World of Warcraft,” I snarked. “Of course DE.”

“I have a character.”

“A secret character? Other than your public persona, Lord Sisyphus?”

He looked away with a smirk. “Yeah, I have a secret character.”

My mouth dropped. “The truth comes out. You’re like King Henry the Fifth.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, you dropped out of geek college so you wouldn’t have read up on your Shakespeare. Henry the Fifth dressed up like a common soldier and went around his war camps to see who was talking trash about him.”

He barked a laugh. “Shit, if I was worried about who was talking trash about me, I’d have quit this business a long time ago.”

“So, how often do you play? Do you group up with other players?”

“Once a week and of course. You know you can’t get any of the good stuff done without a large group.”

“Why?” I puzzled. “Why would you want to play when you know all the secrets—all of the quest chains, all of the back story? Wouldn’t that be boring?”

He shrugged. “I playtest my own product. It’s being thorough. I’m always very thorough.”

He seemed to be saying something to me, a weighted double entendre, but I didn’t get it. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he said suddenly.

“Character?”

“Yeah, but you can’t rat me out on your blog.”

I shook my head. “Of course not. I’m under an NDA, am I not? With no expiration date. If you want to know so badly, couldn’t you just look me up under my account information? My real name is on that.”

“I could. I’d rather you told me.”

“Her name is Eloisa.”

He nodded. “Okay. Maybe I’ll add you to my friends list.”

“And you are…?” I raised my brows at him.

He looked at me and hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Magnus.”

Of course. Magnificent. And parts of him truly were magnificent. And other parts seemed dark, shrouded, and brooding. I never knew what Adam I was going to get from one moment to the next.

During the latter part of the flight, he’d managed to take a nap and I watched him sleep, utterly fascinated. But it wasn’t until we’d landed that I remembered the cell phone he’d given me in Amsterdam. I reached into my jacket pocket and handed it to him.

“Here’s your phone back.”

“Actually, that’s yours. I have my own…an irritating one that tends to ring at the most inopportune times,” he said with a grimace.

“But—”

“You said yours wasn’t working. I want to be able to get a hold of you, so I arranged for that one and I don’t need it. Keep it and keep it charged. I want to be able to reach you.”

“Ah, I see. Is this part of that whole thing? You’re keeping tabs on me until this transaction is complete?”

He shrugged. “If you want to think of it that way.”

I glared at him, tempted to cram the damn thing down his throat until he spoke again. “Besides, you can use the web feature to respond to comments on your blog from wherever you are.”

Now that I liked. “Hmm. Well, I can keep it until we are…through with each other. But then I’m giving it back.”

The expression on his face was enigmatic. “If you must.”

When he dropped me off from the airport, he walked me to my door, insisting on carrying my ratty bag. We stood at the door staring at each other for a long, awkward moment.

“So, I guess I’ll see you this Friday?” I said.

“Yes. I’ll text you.”

“Not sure my old car is allowed on the road in Newport Beach amongst all the glittering Bentleys and Beemers. I might get pulled over the minute I cross the city limit.”

He laughed. “I’ll arrange for a car to come get you.”

“Fancy. Don’t suppose I can persuade you to turn off your phone that night.”