Page 25 of Aliens Love Curves

"Stryker insisted," Casey says, her voice carrying just the right note of irritation. "Apparently, I can't be trusted to handle a simple dinner meeting."

The barb lands. I feel it like a physical blow, even knowing it's part of the act.

"Nonsense," Harlan pulls out her chair, his hands lingering on her shoulders. "You can handle anything you set your mind to. It's one of your most... attractive qualities."

Throughout the meal, I watch Harlan work his charm. Every gesture is calculated – the way he leans in when Casey speaks, how his hand brushes hers when reaching for the wine, the low, intimate tone of his voice when he compliments her flying.

"You should have seen her in training today," he says, refilling Casey's wine glass. "The way she handles the prototype... extraordinary."

"Her technique needs refinement," I counter, unable to help myself. "The inverse rolls are still sloppy."

Casey's head snaps up, genuine anger flashing in her eyes. "Excuse me?"

""Just being honest. As your manager, it's my responsibility to—"

"Your responsibility?" She sets down her glass hard enough to make the crystal sing. "Let me tell you about responsibility, Stryder. Your job is to support me, not criticize every breathI take. I'm sick of it. Sick of your hovering, your constant judgment, your... your suffocating presence."

The venom in her voice feels too real, cutting deeper than it should. "Casey—"

"No." She pushes back from the table, her hands trembling slightly. "I'm done. Whatever this was between us – professionally or personally – it's over. Excuse me. I-I need some air."

As she storms toward the restrooms, Harlan's smile turns predatory. "Trouble in paradise?"

My claws dig into my palms under the table. "Our relationship is purely professional."

I force my hands to unclench.

"Is it?" He takes a slow sip of wine, watching me over the rim. "That's not what I've observed.” He leans back, swirling his wine. “The way you look at her when you think no one's watching... the possessive gestures, the barely contained jealousy... it's quite entertaining, actually, and rather pathetic."

"You're out of line." My voice comes out as a low growl.

"Am I? Or are you the one who's forgotten his place?" His eyes glitter with malice. "She's destined for greatness, Stryker. She doesn't need some washed-up instructor holding her back. And after tonight's little display..." He chuckles softly. "Well, let's just say her bed might be warmer than you think."

Red edges my vision. My tail lashes violently, and I have to consciously retract my claws before I shred the tablecloth. "If you think I'll let you—"

"Let me?" His laugh is silk over steel. "You have no say in what – or who – Casey does. That's the beauty of tonight's... revelation, and after tonight's little display, even less influence than before."

Before I can respond, Casey returns. She takes in our tense postures, the barely contained hostility. Her face is composed but her eyes hold a message I can't quite read.

"Is everything alright?" she asks, noting our tense postures.

"Just a professional disagreement," Harlan says smoothly. "About your training schedule."

"Actually," Casey stifles a yawn that seems just a touch too theatrical, "I should probably call it a night. Early practice tomorrow."

The ride back to our apartment is thick with tension. As soon as the door closes behind us, I round on her.

"Want to explain what that was about?"

"Which part?" She kicks off her heels, relief evident in her expression. "The part where I put on a show about ending our fake relationship, or the part where I saw illegal medication and medical equipment being transferred between hovering gliders outside the restaurant's bathroom window?"

I blink, momentarily derailed. "Illegal medication and equipment?"

"Yes., by the look of it, black market stuff hovering in the blind spot between buildings. Very clumsy transfer operation. Almost like they're getting careless " She starts pulling pins from her hair, each one punctuating her words. "But you seem more concerned about our fictional breakup."

"Fictional?" I step closer, unable to help myself. "Because those words felt pretty real, Casey. It's not—" I stop, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "You could have warned me."

She meets my eyes, something vulnerable flickering in her expression. "They had to. Harlan needed to believe it. Would you have played along? Or would you have let your... feelings... compromise the mission?

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