Page 6 of The Omega Project

“Derek Summers?” Langston has pulled back an inch, his brow arched in surprise. We talked about Derek now and then during our mentoring sessions, so he knows enough to be intrigued. “I thought you were just friends.”

“Not anymore.” I lick my dry lips, swallowing a whimper as his gaze tracks my tongue. “And we’re talking about moving in together.”

“Really?” He tilts his head and it’s such a predatory move, I have to lock my knees to stop them from buckling. “It’s serious, then?”

“Very,” I manage to croak. “He’s the best guy I’ve ever met.”

It’s the truth, although admitting it at this moment makes my stomach clench. Derek means everything to me, but Langston is intoxicating, alluring, and so deep under my skin it’s physically painful when he takes a step back.

“Hmmm.” I grip the edge of the desk, searching his face as he sets his hands on his hips. Is he disappointed? Annoyed? Relieved? Before I can work it out, he circles the desk and pushesa piece of paper at me. “If you’re interested, I have a side project for you to consider.”

The change of topic feels like whiplash, and I rub my neck as I pick it up. It’s written on a fancy corporate letterhead, and I scan it twice, then look at him in confusion. “Is it something to do with the university?”

“Not exactly. Vise Solutions does a lot of philanthropic work, but this is part of its research and development side. I’ve consulted with them in the past, and I know they’re looking for a few additional analysts to assist with a project.”

I look up at him, curious despite myself. “And you think I’d be a good fit?”

His eyes darken as they meet mine. “I think they’d be lucky to have you. And it would open you up to networking opportunities that could pay off hugely once you’re ready to enter the workforce. The company also offers a generous study-work balance, so you can keep focusing on your thesis. Plus, it pays quite well.”

He mentions a salary that ignites a buzzing storm between my ears. It’s more money than most science graduates can expect after a decade in the workforce. In fact, it’s enough that I could quit my shifts at the library bookshop, find a professional babysitter for Claudia, and hook my mum up with a real doctor instead of the quacks she meets at the walk-in clinic. A prickling wave ofwantwashes over me, and I have to squeeze my palms together to keep myself from snatching up a pen and signing my life away.

“But why me? Is the project linked to the biological sciences?”

“In part,” he replies. “And one thing I can promise is that you’d be doing important work.”

I study his face carefully, but beneath that veneer of lazy charm, Langston is almost impossible to read, and I turn my attention to the document in front of me. It only outlinesthe bare basics of the project officer role and offers the usual spiel about the need for collaboration, problem-solving, and analytical skills – with a caveat at the end that the successful candidate will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement. “There’s not a lot of information. Is it a confidentiality thing?”

“The project sponsor is a private guy, and there are some elements of the research that can’t be shared publicly.” Langston leans on his desk, his hands large and brown against his white blotter, and I have to drag my gaze back to the document. “But if you’re interested, I could arrange a meeting. If that goes well, you could begin on a temporary basis.”

That seems more than fair, but I bite my tongue. Given all my other commitments – and this overwhelming attraction I feel for my professor - I know I shouldn’t jump into anything without thinking it over very carefully. “When do you need an answer from me?”

“By the end of the week would be good.” I nod and get to my feet, but Langston stops me before I reach the door. “Emily, no matter what you decide, I’ll need you to keep quiet about this offer.” At my raised eyebrows, his scent shifts into something that smells like burnt caramel. “Like I said, the sponsor is very generous, but this is a pet project for him, and he will protect it at any cost.”

Emily

I’m not sure if Professor Fall was trying to spook me into staying silent, or if he was just trying to unnerve me in general, but the next few days are so hectic, I barely give his job offer another thought. Derek is so slammed at work, we only catch up on the phone, and then Jacob brings a stomach bug home from school, and we all go down like very germy dominoes. When I’m finally able to drag myself off the couch, I’ve lost another couple of days, and our petty cash tin is nearly empty. Claudia scolds Mum for spending money we don’t have on fresh flowers, and she retreats to her room in a flood of tears, screaming that she’d rather be dead than living with a penny-pinching bully. Claudia goes very quiet, after that, and even Jacob can’t get a smile out of her. Sick at the tension in our house, I spend as much time as I can with my nephew, promising him all sorts of treats at Christmas that I have no way of ever delivering.

The only bright spot in a very bleak week is that there’s no sign of my ex. Rick’s ultimatum is ticking in the back of my mind like a timebomb, but I cling to the hope that he’s all bluster and no bite. Unfortunately, personal experience has taught me otherwise, and I wake more than once rubbing the messy scar tissue on my wrist.

By Friday morning, I can tell my family is at breaking point. Claudia has an early shift, so once Jacob is at school, I take Mum a cup of tea, then head straight to the university. Professor Fallisn’t in his office, but a few helpful directions steer me towards the cafeteria in the student guild, and when I finally track him down, he’s attacking his breakfast with obvious relish.

“You eat crumpets?” I ask in surprise, staring down at the plate of honey-smeared goodness. It’s not that I don’t think crumpets are manly, but Langston definitely has a bacon and sausage vibe about him.

“Best on campus,” Langston replies, chasing a dribble of honey down his fork, “but they’re still not as sweet as me.”

I blush, remembering the first time we met, when I blurted out that he smelled like bee pollen. I’d gone on to explain it’s the stuff that’s stored inbrood cells, mixed with saliva, and sealed with a drop ofhoney, but he’s never let me live it down.

“I came to tell you that I’d like to meet with the project sponsor,” I tell him, ignoring the way he licks a dollop of syrup off his thick, brown thumb. “If the job you mentioned is still available, I mean.”

“Great.” He stands so abruptly, I take a rapid step back, but he just wipes his hands on a napkin and scoops a black helmet off the chair next to him. “Then let’s go meet the boss.”

“Now?” I glance down at myself, not sure my denim skirt, converse, and vintage Bee Gees tank is suitable for a job interview. “Shouldn’t I… prepare first?”

“Finn doesn’t care about clothes.” He gestures at his own vintage motorcycle jacket and worn jeans. “Trust me, he’ll want you exactly as you are.”

He starts towards the door, and for some inexplicable reason, my feet seem happy to follow. But when we reach the staff carpark, I force myself to slow down. I thought Langston might set the meeting up in his office, or we’d connect over Zoom, but it looks like he’s headed off campus. “Where are we meeting him?”

“At his research facility across town. It’s not far, but it’s faster on the bike in this traffic.”

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