Page 86 of Savage Beauty

The office doors are locked, but as I’m standing there looking through the tinted glass, a person wearing a lab coat exits the building. His sleek black hair looks familiar, and I must look familiar to him, because he holds the door open for me. His brown men’s dress shoes are scuffed along the toes.

“Thank you,” I say as I head inside.

No one is sitting behind reception. They only place someone there when investors are expected. My sandals click against the floor, and my reflection shines in the hallway glass. My messenger bag bangs against my thigh, and I lift the strap over my head so it hangs more snugly across my midsection.

I reach Dr. Kallio’s lab. The door is ajar, and I peek inside. She sits at a counter, head bent, reading a report. I tap lightly on the door.

“Sloane. Hi. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The length of her lab coat falls halfway down the stainless-steel legs of the stool. She removes her reading glasses and sets them on the counter.

“I brought the letter. The one you asked me to get for verification to prove my story.”

“Did you?”

I open the flap on the messenger bag and lift my laptop. “It’s on here. I don’t have a printer.” I could have emailed it, but I wasn’t thinking straight…after Max. “It’s a draft. The Arrow team is reviewing it and may make changes as well, but I thought you might have changes too. But you can see the draft version and, well, you won’t need to interview anyone.”

My chest cinches. It feels like I’m missing a lung or—no, I can breathe. It’s more like my heart split open.

“Let’s see it.”

I take the laptop over to her and set it beside her glasses. The tip of her finger traces along the edge of the chrome. Her nails have been recently done. Instead of a color, this time she got the ends painted white and left the base a natural color. There’s a name for that design, but I can’t remember it. It looks pretty.

My nails are short and unpolished. My finger pad traces the edge of my thumbnail. It’s a little rough from where I bit it.

“This computer isn’t a work computer.”

“No. It’s one of my personal computers.”

“Ah.” The password box is displayed, and she turns the laptop to me for me to enter my password. Unlike Dr. Kallio, I don’t have a written password list. I can remember my passwords. “Do you have access to the network from this computer?”

“No. It’s an older computer.”

“So, the only computer that you have access to the network is through your work computer?”

“Well, not without being on the VPN.” I lean forward and open the file with the letter. “I can email it to you,” I say, straightening my spine. “Dr. Kallio, has Origins ever considered opening a US office?”

“Not to my knowledge. Why?” She speaks to me absentmindedly as she reads my letter. It’s a brief letter.

“I’m just wondering if maybe it’s time for me to return to the States.” It’s been less than two years since I left, but things have changed.

“Are you asking because of Max Hawkins? The employee from Arrow Tactical that you’ve been spending time with?”

“Yes.” I’ve never mentioned Max’s last name to her, have I?

She closes the laptop lid and spins the stool to face me directly. “Sloane, you’re a good kid. But you got in way over your head. We’re not going to be able to re-hire you.”

“What? Why?” Discomfort rises anew. My vision blurs. More tears are coming, and I can’t stop them. If she doesn’t want to re-hire me, I should leave.

“Where are you going?”

I pause, five steps from the door. “There’s no reason to stay, is there?”

Proving my heart isn’t literally split in two, it pounds hard enough to fray my nerves. Emotion wells in my throat, and it feels hard to swallow.

“No, there is. I need to talk to you.”

She gets up and walks past me. She closes the door and locks it. Then she pulls the vinyl shade down over the glass pane in the door.

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