Page 39 of Liam
But I’m already moving, my legs carrying me away even as every cell in my body screams to stay. My hands shake as I shove them in my pockets, my heart hammering so hard I can barely breathe. And I run.
I know she remembers that scene as well as I do. The same vulnerability shines in her eyes now. But this time, there’s wariness too. A wariness that speaks of old wounds and broken trust. A look I put there.
I did this. I hurt her. And now, years later, I’m still running, still hiding behind excuses and professional distance.
The truth of it settles in my gut, heavy and uncomfortable.I thought I’d changed, grown beyond that scared college kid who ran from his feelings. But here I am, again, using my position to keep Aleria at arm’s length, piling on work to sabotage her date.
We stand frozen in this moment, the silence broken only by our ragged breathing.
I swallow hard. “Do you greet all your colleagues this way, Dr. James,” I ask, my voice rougher than I’d like, “or am I special?”
Aleria blinks, recognition dawning in her eyes. A flush creeps up her neck, spreading across her cheeks. “I thought I heard...”
She trails off, her gaze dropping to where my hand still encircles her wrist. I release her as if burned, taking a step back to put some much-needed distance between us. The loss of contact leaves my skin tingling.
“I came to check on the lab,” I say, scrambling for an explanation that doesn’t make me sound like a stalker. “Ensuring all our valuable equipment is secure.”
Smooth, Valeur. Very convincing.
Aleria’s eyebrow arches, her earlier panic replaced by suspicion. “You left only minutes ago, and it’s late. No one here but me.”
I force a laugh. “Evil never sleeps, Dr. James. Neither does science. Or security.”
God, what am I saying? I clear my throat, grasping for my usual composure. “Forget what I said has to be done today. You can finish tomorrow. And since we’re both here, I could give you a ride home. It’s late as you said, and my car’s just outside.”
Aleria looks surprised by the offer, her eyes narrowing asif trying to determine if there’s some hidden agenda. “Oh. Um…sure. Let me just grab my things.”
I watch as she moves around the lab, gathering her coat and bag. In the harsh fluorescent lighting, I can see the dark circles under her eyes, the slump of her shoulders betraying her exhaustion. The guilt that brought me here in the first place intensifies.
Did I pile all that work on her just because she had a date? What kind of person does that make me? The thought gnaws at me, twisting in my gut.
The ride down in the elevator is silent and tense. Marcus is waiting in the lobby, his face impassive as always.
As we approach the car, I reach out to open the door for Aleria. In her haste to maintain a distance between us, she doesn’t notice my gesture. She turns, her elbow connecting with my ribs. I let out anoof, more startled than hurt.
Aleria’s eyes widen, a flush creeping up her neck. “Oh!”
“Careful there,” I say, rubbing my side with exaggerated care. “I’m beginning to think you have it out for me, Dr. James. First, the microscope, now this. Should I be worried about what’s next?”
Her initial embarrassment fades, replaced by a familiar spark of irritation. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she retorts, straightening her coat. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d bore you to death with a lecture on quantum physics. Much more efficient than physical violence.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. “Ah yes, death by incomprehensible science. Your specialty, I believe. Though I must say, I prefer the elbow to the ribs. At least that way, it’ll be fast.”
For a moment, I think I see the ghost of a smile on Aleria’s face. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, herexpression hardening into something cooler, more distant as she slides inside the back seat.
“How’s the view from that ivory tower of yours?” she asks as I get seated beside her. “Must be nice to play around while the rest of us do the work.”
Her words hit me like a sucker punch, catching me off guard. “You have no idea what my job entails.”
Aleria’s eyes widen as if she’s surprised by the effect her words have had.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is it hard work piling impossible deadlines on your employees? Or maybe it’s the strain of micromanaging every aspect of my research?”
The sarcasm in her voice is palpable, and I struggle to maintain my composure. This isn’t our usual playful banter. There’s real anger here, real hurt.
“Aleria,” I start, my voice softer now, “about that?—”
But she cuts me off, her eyes flashing with a mix of exhaustion and anger. “Save it, Mr. Valeur. I don’t need your explanations or your pity. What I need is a boss who respects the work we do and doesn’t use his position to...to...”
