Page 5 of Entity

“Yeah, yeah,” I say hurriedly, the words sinking in.Full author credit. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“Drink up,” Ian says. “You’re nervous. I get it. Weird building, weird guy living in it, weird everything. I get it. But we’re friends now. Is that okay with you? We’re not coworkers; I’m not your boss. We’re friends. So, tell me. What’s the vision?”

I take another long sip of my drink. The liquid warms me from my throat all the way down to my stomach. “To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it that much. I mean, Ihave, but I was hoping to meet the Eros model and learn more about it first. And more about you. The standard would be, you know, early life, and then your career, and then—”

Ian turns to face me, waving a knife with dissatisfaction. “No, no. Early life? Boring. I want to get right into it. The book starts with Eros.He’sthe one who matters. Everything before him is irrelevant. Totally irrelevant.”

I sip my drink. “Makes total sense.” Why did he ask me for my vision if he has one already? The smell of garlic and onion fills my nostrils, and the alcohol is finally loosening me up.

“The thing is, Kit, no one’s doing what I am. Not in artificial intelligence, not in robotics, not in the sex industry. I’m leagues above every other entrepreneur in the country, probably the world. Right? But that’s… that’s not the book. You’re the book. Your take on everything, on me, on Eros. Your mind issomething else. You’re like me. You see things no one else does. You want mashed or boiled?”

I stare. “I… what?”

“Potatoes.”

“Oh! Whatever you want is fine.”

He returns my stare. “Mashed or boiled? Either way, they’ll be drowning in garlic butter and herbs.”

“Boiled.”

“Boiled it is.” He claps once, digs around in a cupboard, and pulls out a bag of new potatoes.

By the time dinner is ready, I’ve finished my drink. I’m pleasantly buzzed, the alcohol working wonders on my empty stomach. Ian lays out our food on the kitchen island, pulling up a stool next to me.

“Dig in,” he says, then follows his own instruction.

As we eat, Ian makes no attempt at conversation. He’s single-minded, maybe even distracted. I get the impression he doesn’t host much, if at all. The second he finishes eating, he hops off his stool and goes straight to the bar. Still working on my steak, I can’t help but watch him as he goes, his broad shoulders, the way his dark grey slacks hug his figure. And I notice for the first time that he’s barefoot.

“Another?” he calls back to me, holding up the whiskey.

I nod. “Yes, please.”

I finish my steak as he prepares our drinks, and I slide awkwardly off the stool. I begin stacking up our dishes to wash up, but Ian clicks his tongue, stopping me.

“No, no,” he says. “Don’t bother, I’ll do it. Later. Come on. Let’s sit.” He holds out a second drink.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say, taking the drink and letting Ian lead us into the living area.

“You’re welcome,” he says, flopping onto one of the architectural sofas. “Sit.” He holds out a hand to indicate the spot next to him. He settles in, folding one leg under the other.

I hesitate.

The rain outside is relentless, streaking the massive window in wavering luminous color. Beyond, the cityscape is ephemeral and coldly dark. But in here, the lights are warm. It smells of garlic and onion, and faintly of something musky — probably Ian’s cologne.

“I won’t bite,” he says. “Come on, Kit. We’re friends. Sit, sit.”

“My skirt is still a little damp,” I protest weakly. “Your sofa—”

“I don’t give a shit,” he says impatiently. He sips his drink, a gold signet pinky ring glinting in the lamplight. “Sit, please.”

I finally relent, perching at the edge of the sofa like a bird ready to take flight.

“So,” says Ian, the sharpness gone from his voice. He’s even more attractive here, lit softly at the edges, only the palest hues of purple and red playing on his skin from neon ads outside. His dark features are rugged but statuesque, refined but dangerous. “Your blog. What’s the deal there? No one else likes it? Why haven’t I seen you inScientific Americanor something?”

I blink, shocked briefly into silence.

“Well?”

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