Page 6 of Liam
“Buying friends?” He shakes his head, his own anger rising. “That’s rich coming from someone whose closest relationship is probably with a microscope. Do you name your petri dishes?”
“At least microscopes don’t run the morning after,” Imutter, turning away from him. “And for your information, I only name the special ones.”
I move toward my workstation, needing to put some distance between us. The lab suddenly becomes too small, too cramped, with his overbearing presence filling every corner.
“Wait,” he says, his voice different. “Do you actually live here? Please tell me that’s not your bed.”
I freeze, realizing he’s spotted the cot I keep hidden behind some boxes. Damn, his observant eyes. My shoulders tense as I keep my back to him. “It’s just for power naps. Sometimes, breakthroughs happen at 3 AM. Not that you’d understand the concept of a breakthrough that doesn’t involve profit margins.”
“Breakthroughs? Or hiding from the fact that you have nothing else in your life?”
His words hit a nerve, and I whirl around, fury warring with the knowledge that I need this deal. Need him. Professionally, of course. “Science is my life. Not all of us need cocktail parties and multiple partners to feel fulfilled. Some of us care about making a difference in the world.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back.Stupid, stupid, stupid.There goes months of research funding. But his presence makes my skin prickle, my usual self-control fracturing under that piercing blue gaze.
His anger seems to deflate, replaced by something that looks suspiciously like pity. It only fuels my rage. How dare he pity me?
“There’s an entire world outside these walls, Dr. James,” he says. “Don’t you ever want to experience it?”
Dr. Kim’s warning echoes in my head.Be nice. Show him the project. Our funding depends on this. Instead, I hearmyself say, “Why? So I can meet more people like you? No thanks. I prefer the company of people with actual souls.”
My words strike home. His jaw tightens, eyes flashing. God help me, but anger makes him even more attractive. The thought only ignites my temper further.
“You know what your problem is?” he snaps, his voice climbing. “You're so afraid of life that you've locked yourself in this lab long before any lockdown forced you to!”
The accusation lands harder than I’d care to admit, but I refuse to back down. Even as a voice screams in my head to stop, to apologize, to save the project, I can't seem to help myself.
“And you’re so terrified of anything real that you hide behind boardrooms and numbers, pushing people away. When was the last time you let someone in? Really in?” The gossip blogs I definitely don't read flash through my mind—three charity galas in the past year, three different dates, never the same woman twice. Not that I've been keeping track. “I don’t see anyone in your life you care enough about to keep close. And no, family doesn’t count.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me or my life,” he shouts back. “You’re so quick to judge based on some preconceived notion of who I am. Have you ever considered that I might have a girlfriend?”
“Do you?” The question comes out softer than I intended, betraying more interest than I want to show. I hate that my heart speeds up waiting for his answer.
“No. But that’s not the point.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did I hurt the billionaire’s feelings? Should I call your armyof lawyers? Or perhaps your PR team to spin this into a heartwarming story about the misunderstood rich guy?”
“You’re impossible,” he growls, taking a step closer to me. “Do you practice being this irritating, or does it come naturally?”
“It’s a gift,” I shoot back, refusing to back down. “Much like your gift for being a pompous, overblown windbag.”
We’re standing toe to toe now, glaring at each other. His eyes—stormy blue, flecked with something darker—bore into mine, daring me to look away.
That infuriatingly intoxicating scent of his, all rich spice and cedarwood, wraps around me, making it impossible to think clearly. My pulse quickens despite myself, my breath coming faster, matching the pounding in my chest. Even now, when he’s being an arrogant ass, he smells like temptation itself.
“I think you’re jealous. Jealous that some of us can have both a successful career and a fulfilling personal life.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “It must be hard, being so brilliant yet so alone. When was the last time you went on a date? My bet is, never.”
A surge of white-hot anger boils in me, obliterating all thoughts of funding and professional consequences. My body moves before my brain can catch up. “You arrogant, presumptuous?—”
My arm swings out in a wide arc, meant to shove him away. Instead, my hand smacks against something hard, followed by a sharp click. A hissing sound fills the air, and my stomach drops as I realize what I've done.
Water crashes down from above, the lab’s sprinkler system erupting in a torrent. The cold shock hits me, and Igasp as it soaks through my lab coat, the fabric clinging to my skin in seconds.
Liam pulls me close, wrapping me in the warmth of his body as the water pours around us. The cold splashes against us, but his embrace shields me from the worst of it.
He sheds his jacket, holding it high above my head to block the relentless spray.
We stand motionless, our rapid breaths in perfect sync, chests rising and falling against each other.
