Page 36 of Liam
I blink, thrown by his tone. “Um, yes. Just a normal night. Why?”
Liam ignores my question, striding into the lab. “Excellent. There’s a mountain of work to be done.”
Before I can process what’s happening, he’s rattling off a list of tasks that make my head spin.
“I need these reports by noon, this analysis by 3 PM, and oh, could you reorganize the entire sample database? Today.”
I gape at him, sure I must have misheard. “All of this? Today?”
“Is there a problem, Dr. James?” Liam cuts me off, his blue eyes piercing. “I thought you prided yourself on your dedication to science.”
Something in me snaps. “I don’t know what crawled into your coffee this morning, Valeur, but?—”
“My coffee is fine,” he retorts. “Your work ethic, however, seems to be slipping. Late nights affecting your performance?”
I bristle, hands clenching at my sides. “My performance is impeccable, as always. Unlike some people, I can balance my personal and professional life.”
The tension in the room crackles like static electricity before a lightning strike. Mia’s eyes ping-pong between us, her mouth agape as if watching a brutal tennis match.
“I, uh, just remembered,” Mia stammers, backing toward the door, “the mass spectrometer needs calibrating. Urgently. Very, very urgently.” She’s out the door faster than a neutrino through lead, leaving Liam and me in a standoff of glares.
“I don’t appreciate the attitude, Dr. James,” he says, voice low. “Since I’m the one funding your research, I expect my investment to be treated with respect.”
I grit my teeth, feeling the words clawing at my throat. “Respect? You’re throwing last-minute work at me to make me stay late, and we both know it.”
“Perhaps if you focused on your work instead of…waxing,” he says, pausing for effect, “you’d have no problem meeting your deadlines.”
The smugness in his eyes is the last straw. “My productivity has never been an issue, Mr. Valeur. And if you want me to work late just to sabotage my personal plans, then maybeyou’rethe one who needs a little work-life balance lesson.”
He takes a step closer, his voice dropping. “If you’re as dedicated as you claim, then staying a few extra hours shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
I open my mouth to argue but close it, feeling trapped. He’s my boss and my investor. If I push back, I could risk everything. But the way he’s watching me, as though daring me to choose Jake over my research, makes me want to scream.
“Fine,” I bite out, each syllable wrapped in barely contained fury. “I’ll stay. But this—whatever this game is you’re playing—it’s petty.”
“Good,” he says, turning away. “Let’s keep it professional from now on, Dr. James.”
As he walks out, my hands are still clenched, and my stomach is a knot of anger. Whatever this game is, I’m going to make damn sure I come out the winner.
As the day progresses, Liam and I orbit each other like binary stars locked in a gravitational dance. Our interactions are a constant push and pull, each barbed comment drawing us closer, only to repel us again with equal force.
“Dr. James,” Liam calls out, his voice dripping with faux concern. “Are you planning to analyze that sample or stare it into submission?”
I look up from my microscope, plastering on a saccharine smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Valeur. I didn’t realize you were still here. I thought I heard the sound of a massive ego deflating and assumed you’d left.”
Liam's eyes narrow, but I catch the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He nods toward the delicate spectrometer I'm adjusting. “Careful with that equipment, Dr. James.”
I don't even look up, my fingers moving with exaggerated precision over the instrument. “I know what I’m doing, Mr. Valeur. I suppose you wouldn’t, as it's hard to fit actual scientific knowledge under all that ego.”
“‘Actual scientific knowledge?’” Liam repeats, his tone mock-offended. “I seem to recall a certain someone begging for my help with Calculus III back in college. What was it you said? ‘Liam, I need you to help me pass this class.’”
The memory hits me like a splash of cold water. I glance up, catching the mischievous glint in his eye. “That's not fair. I was sleep-deprived and desperate.”
“And I was your knight in shining armor, armed with a calculator and an endless supply of terrible math puns,” Liam counters, grinning.
I snort, unable to help the smile tugging at my lips. “Please. Although, your puns were worse than mine. Remember, ‘I’m odd, you’re even, and together we’re prime?’”
Liam throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and annoyingly appealing. “Hey, that line worked, didn’t it? We made quite the study pair.”
