Page 14 of Liam
Aleria's eyes narrow, a competitive glint matching my own. “Six weeks? That's quite a commitment, Valeur. Sure you're up for it?”
I scoff, rising to the bait. “Please. I could charm the socks off a statue. The question is, can you handle it, Dr. James? Or will you be too busy reciting the periodic table to your date?”
She leans in, matching my posture. Her scent wafts between us. “Oh, I can handle it. Prepare to eat your words,Valeur. And maybe invest in some better pickup lines than 'I could charm the socks off a statue.’”
“You're on,” I press on, fighting to maintain my composure. “But let’s not make it too easy. Four dates minimum before the party. We need to prove we can get to know these people, not just charm them for a night.”
I extend my hand, a challenge clear in my stance, even as I wrestle with the confusing mix of competitiveness and attraction swirling within me. “So, Dr. James, do we have a deal? Or are you worried you can’t handle a month and a half of actual human interaction?”
The corner of Aleria’s mouth twitches, fighting a smile. She grasps my hand, her touch sending an electric jolt through my arm, far stronger than it should. “Oh, it’s on, Valeur. Prepare to eat your words and probably an entire bowl of candy corn at that party. Alone.”
Aleria hesitates for a moment, a flash of concern crossing her face. “Wait. What about the partnership? The funding?”
“That’s already taken care of,” I say, my tone softening. “I signed the papers with Dr. Kim this morning. The partnership is a done deal. ASTRA is exactly what Valeur Tech needs. So you can relax about that.”
Relief floods her features before she catches herself, schooling her expression back to careful neutrality. “Good. Then I won’t feel bad about crushing you in this bet.”
Chapter Five
LIAM
The moment Aleria walks into Whisper Lounge and Bar, I know I’m in trouble.
My fingers tighten around my glass of scotch as I take in her appearance. She’s wearing something that looks like a refugee from a 1950s yard sale—a floral-print dress that hugs her curves in all the right places despite its unsexy high neckline and long sleeves.
“Good Lord, James,” I mutter, unable to tear my eyes away, “did you raid the costume department fromGrease?”
She looks ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. No man in his right mind would give her a second glance. I should celebrate my imminent victory in our little bet.
It's been five days since I started overseeing the ASTRA project, five days of finding excuses to visit the lab, watching her work with an intensity that both impresses and infuriates me.
Yesterday, I caught her scheduling this date in hushed tones with someone named Jake. Not that I was eavesdropping—I just happened to be reviewing specs at a nearby workstation. For the third time that day.
The smart move would be to let her fail on her own, but something compelled me to show up. Just to ensure fair play in our bet, nothing more.
I down the rest of my drink in one burning gulp, signaling the bartender for another. This is going to be a long night.
Whisper Lounge lives up to its name. A gentle chorus of voices mingles with the sultry notes of a jazz saxophone. The lighting is dim, casting everything in a warm, golden glow that softens the edges of the world.
Aleria scans the room, her hands smoothing down her dress in a gesture that’s oddly endearing. I watch as she makes her way to the bar, perching on a stool and ordering what looks like a gin and tonic.
Her eyes dart around the room, and for a moment, I think she’s spotted me. I duck my head, pretending to be fascinated by the coaster under my drink. Her fingers start tapping against her hip—tap, tap, tap—the same nervous rhythm she used to drum on her textbooks before exams. Some things never change.
How many times had I stilled those restless hands with my own?
When I look up again, my stomach drops. A tall, handsome man in a tailored suit is approaching Aleria. Jake, I presume.
He moves with the confidence of someone used to getting what he wants. An unexpected surge of annoyance ripples through my chest.
“Oh, hello,” Aleria’s voice carries across the bar, pitched higher than usual. “You look nice today. I like your...face? I mean, it’s symmetrical. That’s good for reproduction. Not that I’m thinking about reproduction!”
I cringe, certain the man will make a hasty retreat. To my surprise, he laughs, charmed by her awkwardness.
“Thank you,” he replies, his voice warm and rich. “I’m quite fond of your face as well, Aleria.”
A blush creeps up Aleria’s cheeks, staining them a soft pink. “Would you like to sit? Unless you don’t want to. Or you’re just being polite. Or you’re an undercover agent, and this is all part of an elaborate sting operation. Not that I think you’re lying. Or that I’m paranoid. I just watch a lot of spy movies. Not that I have nothing better to do than watch movies. I do science. Real science. With test tubes and everything. Oh God, I’m still talking, aren’t I?”
Jake cuts off her rambling with a warm smile. “I’d love to sit. But how about we move to a table? It might be more comfortable.”
