Page 4 of Liam
“How could I forget?” she replies, her voice saccharine. “You only reminded everyone every chance you got. Tell me, did Daddy frame your diploma and hang it in his office or yours?”
“That’s enough,” I say, my patience wearing thin. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”
Aleria laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “Worked hard? Please. You were born on third base and think you hit a triple. Some of us had to claw our way up from nothing.”
She leads me to a complex machine, sleek despite its obvious age. “This is the heart of our spectroscopy research. We’ve had to modify it to meet our needs. Not all of us can just buy the latest equipment whenever we want.”
I lean in, intrigued. “You’ve made some ingenious adaptations. This level of innovation is exactly why we’re interested in your work.”
“Ah yes, now you’re interested,” Aleria mutters. “Funny how that works. Ignore something long enough, and suddenly it’s valuable.”
The bitterness in her voice makes me wince. “Aleria, I?—”
“Save it,” she interrupts, moving to another station. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Her elbow jerks, catching the edge of a teetering stack of papers. The tower sways, then collapses in a cascade of white, carrying with it an assortment of gleaming instruments.
We both lunge at it, reaching to catch the mess. My hand reaches out just as hers does, and for a moment, our fingers collide, skin against skin. A jolt shoots through me, electric,burning, a reminder of everything we were. Everything we never finished.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Aleria recoils as if burned, her cheeks blooming with color. “I... I should check that,” she mutters, turning away.
The beeping intensifies, transforming into a wailing siren that assaults my ears. Red warning lights flash, bathing the lab in an eerie glow.
Lockdown.
Aleria's face pales, her hands flying over the controls. “This shouldn’t be happening.”
Chapter Two
ALERIA
The lockdown siren cuts off abruptly, plunging my lab into silence. I glance at the security panel, its display showing “CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL ACTIVE” in bright red letters. Must be another glitch in the system. They’ve been happening since the new security upgrades last week. Nothing’s actually wrong, but protocol is protocol.
Liam Valeur reaches for his phone, fumbling with the sleek device. A few strands of his always-impeccable hair have now fallen over his forehead. It’s almost satisfying to see the great Liam Valeur looking less than perfect.
“No signal,” he mutters, a string of curses following under his breath. Each word probably costs more than my monthly rent.
“The Faraday cage,” I explain, unable to keep the smugness from my voice. “When lockdown starts, itactivates an electromagnetic shield around the lab and keeps signals from getting in or out.” I tap my own useless phone.
“I have meetings,” he snaps, checking his watch for the third time in a minute. “Important ones. How long does this usually last?”
“Could be minutes, could be an hour.” I shrug, watching him grow more agitated. “They have to run through all the safety protocols before?—”
“An hour?” He whirls around, his calm CEO facade cracking. “That’s not acceptable. There has to be an override or something.”
“Oh sure,” I say dryly, “let me just pull that out of my secret drawer of things to please impatient CEOs.”
He shoots me a glare that would probably make his board members quiver. I smile in return.
He’s changed since our university days, and not just in the expected ways. Gone is the young man I remember. In his place stands a man who seems to command the very air around him.
His tailored suit does little to hide the fact that he’s filled out since college. The fabric stretches across broad shoulders that weren’t there before. As he runs a hand through his hair, I notice the way his bicep strains against his sleeve. Clearly, the man’s found time for more than just board meetings and yacht parties.
His face has matured, too, losing the last vestiges of boyish roundness. His jawline is sharp, high cheekbones, and those piercing blue eyes that I never forgot seem even more intense now. A light dusting of stubble gives him a rugged edge that contrasts with his polished appearance.
It’s not an unpleasant look.
