Page 23 of Not in Love

“Oh, it is.” Minami beamed, tapping Sul’s cheek with her socked toe. Some might have felt self-conscious about this level of PDA in their ex’s house, but Minami had been reassured, over and over, that Hark didn’t mind. Only Eli knew how much of a lie that was.

Silence dropped, comfortable, familiar, the product of years of being together in the same room, tireless and stubborn, always after the same goal. “Today went well,” Hark said eventually. “Not like I’d imagined.”

“How so?” Eli asked.

He shrugged a single shoulder, which meant that he did know, but wasn’t ready to put it into words.

He would soon enough. He was the angriest out of all of them, and the one most likely to let his rage coalesce into something sharp and focused. Nine years ago, Eli had been drowning in student debt while epically failing at taking care of a tween, and Minami had been drowning in something else, something that made her struggle to get out of bed to brush her teeth in the morning. Hark had been the one to drag them out of their wallow, to go to the father he despised and ask—beg—for the firm’s starting capital. “This is how we get even,” he’d insisted, and he’d been right.

“We should name the firm Harkness,” Eli had suggested a week before signing the paperwork, sitting at a table lined with his sister’s homework sheets, wondering why she could solve collegelevel math but not spell spaghetti for her fucking life, wondering what the hell he should be doing about it.

“It’s a shit name,” Hark had grunted.

“It’s not. It’s just your father’s name,” Minami had said, not without compassion. “I think it has the sophisticated supervillain flair we’re going for. Plus, what’s the alternative? Killgore? Too on the nose.”

Eli had given her the finger. Nearly a decade later, and look at them: still giving each other the finger on a daily basis.

“Dr. Florence Kline,” Hark said now, like the words tasted bad in his mouth. “Have any of you talked to her yet? In private?”

“Sul did, for some minor logistical stuff. And the lawyers, of course,” Minami added.

“Not you or Eli?”

She shook her head. And then, after a beat, “She reached out to me via email.”

“And?”

“Just asked if we could talk. Alone. Outside of Kline.” She rolled her lips. “I bet she thinks I’m the weak link.”

“She clearly hasn’t seen you open a jar of pickles,” Eli muttered, and she smiled.

“Right? Kind of amusing, given that I’m the one most likely to push someone under a lawn mower.”

“Did you reply?” Hark asked.

“Nope. I’d rather drink battery acid, thank you very much. Why? Do you think I should?”

Hark glanced at Eli. “Any benefits you can think of in Minami having a one-on-one with her?”

Eli mulled it over. “Maybe in the future. For now, let Florence sweat it a bit.”

Minami nodded. “She’s properly freaked out, I can tell. Despite her bullshit speech today, she must be hiding something.”

“I, for one, really appreciate the collaborative environment she’s trying to foster,” Eli said dryly, which had Minami sniggering and Sul snorting.

“You know what it means, right?” Hark asked. “If she’s hiding shit, it’s not just from us, but also from the board. And she’s dead certain that we won’t find out.”

“That’s fine.” Eli drained what was left of his beer. “I don’t mind proving her wrong.” The biofuel tech was as good as theirs. That was all that mattered.

“Tomorrow I’ll meet with the core research and development team,” Hark said. “Reassure them that they’re not going to get caught in the cross fire.”

“Yeah. They’re not the ones who should be worried.” Eli stood to leave. “I gotta get to Tiny. I’ll see you—”

“Wait,” Minami interrupted, eyes on her phone. “About Rue Siebert.”

Eli halted.

It was a problem, knowing her name. It made conjuring her image that much easier—a shortcut his brain did not need. “We’re still talking about her, aren’t we?”

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