Too hot to handle: A curvy girl romance

by River Laurent

  He visibly relaxes and even manages to force a smile. “Of course, since you took your mother’s maiden name when you were sixteen.”

  “Of course.” I silently thank my guardian angels or inner voice or whatever it was that told me to take her name. I’d much rather live the life of a normal woman than the life of Vince Weissman’s daughter, no matter how many surface perks came along with that. I’ve always left that privilege to my many stepmothers and their children.

  His color starts to return to normal. “I find it highly offensive that you would accuse me of theft.”

  “What is it, if not theft?” I ask. The fact is, I didn’t know until just now that he’d taken Lincoln’s design. It was a hunch of mine, nothing that I heard from work. I read about Arcane’s test run, the same as everyone else.

  “Has it ever occurred to you that my engineers were working on the same technology months before Guardian began working on it?” he asks, cutting into his steak. “Has it ever occurred to you that your boss might have stolen the idea from me?”

  Unthinkable, but he doesn’t know what I know about Lincoln. He’s a man of character, principle. He wouldn’t take the easy way out like that. If anything, he does everything the hard way. He’s the most stubborn, pig-headed man I’ve ever known, and considering my lineage, that’s saying something. “I suppose that isn’t unthinkable,” I lie around a mouthful of salad. Maybe he won’t hear the obvious contempt in my voice if I keep my mouth full.

  “I only wish we could get over the hump,” he admits, shaking his head ruefully.

  “The hump?”

  “The temperature issues. We’ve been having them. I’m certain you have, too. The core temperature jumps up and fries everything.” He shakes his head again.

  I’m so ashamed of my father I feel as if I might throw up. My father is a thief. If he was merely researching and working on technology which would make it possible for drones to travel faster and longer, why would he just so happen to come up with the same exact issue we’ve been battling all this time? It would mean following the exact same process of design, development, and everything else. What are the odds that his engineers designed an exact replica of the ill-informed design Lincoln created for the Excalibur GTX3?

  Slim to none, that’s what.

  And my father is fishing for answers. I know he is. God, he has so little faith in me. It’s a struggle to keep my expression neutral as I pretend to mull over his statement. “It’s a challenge,” I murmur with a shrug, staying as noncommittal as I can.

  “I suppose that whoever comes up with a solution first will be the one to win over the investors at the demonstration,” he observes, sounding as though he only just came up with this revelation on the fly. He should’ve taken up acting instead of stealing other people’s work. He might have been more successful at it.

  There are only three people who know about the exact problem we were having with the prototype: me, Lincoln and Ryland. I highly doubt that Lincoln would leak the details of his prize project to his biggest competitor, so that leaves only one person.

  I feel sick at the thought. Ryland?

  Is he really capable of something like this? It’s hard to imagine. They are best friends and Ryland plays the nice guy so effortlessly, it is impossible to think it could be a pretense. Besides, I’ve come to admire him so highly since he hired me. We get along so well and he seems to have a real, deep affection for Lincoln.

  Does he, though? If he did, he wouldn’t have betrayed him. I know he did. It could only have been him. Maybe he’s tired of playing second fiddle to his best friend. Maybe he wants a bigger piece of the action. I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking my father what he promised Ryland in exchange for his treachery.

  My heart sinks even more. I realize now that he only hired me because of who I am. He must’ve known somehow, that I’m my father’s daughter. Maybe that was why he’d been so dead set on getting me into the company. So he could use me and my connection to my father to further himself.

  I slide my hands under the table, into my lap and clench them as hard as I can in an attempt to hide my rage. My palms sting when my nails sink into them, nearly drawing blood. The filthy, lying bastard. Cozying up to me in the lab, using me. Lying to Lincoln. Making him trust him, believe in him.

  I’d been so wrong about him, about everything.

  “What’s the matter?” My father peers at me, examining me.

  I’m giving myself away. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.” Another mouthful of food. I can barely taste it anymore, and I sure as hell don’t want to eat anything. I’m surprised my stomach even accepts what I swallow, I feel so sick and awful. For myself, for Lincoln, for everyone involved except for Ryland and the man seated across from me. I can’t even think about him as my father anymore.

  “Work, eh?” He grins, taking a huge bite of his bloody steak. The juices drip down his chin. The sight is nauseating. He dabs it away with a snowy white napkin.

  I force a faint smile and shrug. “Yes. Would I be your daughter if I didn’t allow work to get in the way of a good meal?” I pretend to share a good-natured chuckle with him and lean forward with an expression of interest as he starts off on a story about his company.

  I stare at him and nod at all the appropriate places. I know what this lunch is about now. It is a fishing trip for him. He wants to know what I know.

  I think of Lincoln. If my father gets the design, he will be destroyed. I have to figure out a way to help him.

  Samantha

  My stomach’s in knots, tightening further every moment that passes. It’s amazing I’ve managed to hang onto my lunch. What am I going to do?

  I’ve paced the floor of the lab so many times, it’s amazing that I haven’t worn through the rubberized industrial tiles. I have to figure out a way out of this. I can’t let Ryland and Dad get away with it. No way. They’re the bad guys, and the bad guys shouldn’t win.

  I’m not a child. I know the bad guys win sometimes. Maybe even a lot of the time, since they have the resources and all that jazz. But it won’t be like that this time. Not if I have anything to do with it.

  I should go to Lincoln and tell him about Ryland, but accusing his best friend of corporate espionage is no joking matter. I’d better be damn sure of the truth of my accusations before I take them to him. What happens if I’m wrong? What happens if I drive a wedge between them? Neither would ever forgive me, and it would be impossible to continue working here under those conditions. I need proof of some kind.

  That, combined with the fact that they might find out whose daughter I am, leaves me with very little choice. I can’t go off half-cocked on this. It’s too important that I get it right.

  An idea starts forming in my head. Sketchy, but maybe worthwhile. Is there a way I could mix up my findings somehow? I haven’t saved any of my files yet, haven’t returned them to the shared folders for access by others. “Others” meaning Ryland, Lincoln, or the head of security. Even Lou doesn’t know the specifics of what’s wrong with the original design. I know because Ryland told me so.

  I stop in the middle of the lab. How do I know I can believe anything he’s ever told me?

  I carry on pacing. I have to take a chance, anyway.

  If Ryland doesn’t know the specifics of my ultimate solution, I might be able to sabotage the information he leaks to my father. I left the real plans in Lincoln’s office earlier. I could always go in and change the file, or even pretend I made a mistake…

  Yes. That’s the way. Can I pull it off? I need to get myself together, otherwise he’ll know something’s up right away. I can’t let Lincoln down by screwing up something so important. I can’t let Ryland know what he’s done. I have to pretend nothing happened today, that I’m just as enamored of his skill and talent as I was when we last spent time together on Monday morning. We’re friends, pals, conspirators working together to bring Lincoln’s ultimate vision to life.

  What a crock of bullshit. Wha
t would Lincoln do if he knew the truth? I don’t need to think about it for too long. I stop pacing, calm myself, and to put myself in the right headspace. I have to be casual. If my father can pretend to be innocent and free of betrayal, so can I.

  I go over to my computer and make two small changes to the design. One obvious and another not so obvious. Then I save the design on a USB stick and slip it into my pocket.

  “Knock, knock,” I murmur when I reach the open door to Ryland’s office. He must have ordered lunch in. I can smell the onions on his sandwich from across the room. I wrinkle my nose, waving my hand in front of my face.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, shrugging. “I like ‘em.”

  “It’s a good thing you don’t share this office with anyone.” I chuckle. “That smell is obnoxious.”

  “I wouldn’t get onions on it if I had to share my office,” he assures me with a grin.

  Aww… what a nice guy, but you’d stab your best friend in the back for money. I grin back.

  “What can I do for you?”

  This is it. It’s now or never. “I wanted to pop my head in and confirm what I replicated this morning,” I explain. “But I can come back if you’re busy with your lunch.”

  “No, no, not at all, but that won’t be necessary. Lincoln already sent me the files.”

  I frown. “He did.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Well, I made a little typo in my report,” I confess, grimacing. “But I fixed it.”

  “A typo? That’s not going to help anyone,” he chides, but gently and with a smile.

  And I see it then. The slimy smile. I walk over. “I know, I know. I was so excited—”

  “Yes, yes, it is very exciting. What’s the problem?” he asks, pushing his smelly sandwich to the side and beckoning for me to come closer.

  Yeah, I’ll bet he’s more than happy to shove what’s left of his sandwich to the side in favor of getting more information from me. The creep. The liar. He used me. He probably doesn’t have any higher an opinion of me than my father has. Have they laughed together over how easy it is to lie to me? How easy it is to lie to Lincoln?

  I hand over my USB stick.

  I have to hold my breath over the scent of onions hanging heavy in the air, or maybe I just don’t want to breathe in the scent of him.

  He slots the USB into his computer and opens my file.

  “See? I accidentally typed a one-point-two-five instead of point-one-two-five in the measurements of the new fan vent. I mean, that would be way too much. The whole thing would fall apart for lack of a properly-placed decimal point. I’d never forgive myself.”

  He shrugs. “No big deal. You caught it in time. Well done. I’ll let the Big Boss know about it. Don’t worry he won’t be upset over this.”

  Oh, yes, you cretin. That’s exactly what I’m worried about. Lincoln getting angry with me over a perceived mistake. If my calculations are correct, the openings in the vent will still be much too small to allow enough heat to exit the body of the drone. When Arcane polishes up their prototype, it’ll crash during the demonstration. I hope.

  It’s my only hope. The only thing I can hang onto.

  I flash him what I hope is a grateful smile. Exactly the sort of smile I would’ve given him if I didn’t detest him the way I do now. “Thank you, as always. The last thing I need is for him to get on my case about yet another thing, you know?”

  He sighs, folding his arms. “I’ve told you already. I don’t want to be any part of the issues between you two. It puts me in a very uncomfortable position. I have a lot of faith in you, Sam.”

  Oh, sure, you do. You have faith that I’ll be stupid enough to let you keep using me until my father gives you what he’s promised. Whatever that happens to be. I want to ask him so badly. I want to know what could be important enough that it convinced him to betray the oldest friend he has, someone who trusts him like a brother. Judas had his thirty pieces of silver. How many pieces did Dad buy Ryland for?

  “You’re right, you’re right,” I mutter. “You know him better than I do. I bet the two of you have shared just about everything over the years. I can’t come in between that.”

  “Nothing ever could,” he replies, his face unsmiling.

  “Right. Catch you later,” I say walking away. I glance back at him as I reach the door.

  He is watching me with a smile.

  What a liar. I wonder how he can live with himself, how he can sleep at night.

  Then again, I’m a liar, too. I just lied to him. I think of feeding the false information to my father as I walk back to the little office. I let the locks engage behind me before I allow myself to lean against the door, suddenly shaking from head to toe.

  The tech conference is next week. One full week until the Arcane prototype fails in front of a crowd. I honestly don’t know how I’ll be able to wait that long, but it’ll be worth it when I have real, irrefutable proof to take to Lincoln. Without that, it will be no more than my word against Ryland’s, and as my boss just told me, he and Lincoln have shared everything throughout their lives.

  A bitter smirk shows itself on my face when I reflect on the one thing they don’t share—integrity.

  Lincoln

  I feel sick to my stomach, but there’s no other choice. I have to do this.

  Doing it means admitting she made a fool of me, but it also means refusing to be made a fool of any longer. I have to remember this. If there’s any hope of regaining my self-respect, it’s in this action. About time Weissman finds out I’m onto him, that I’m not so easily fooled.

  But you were easily fooled, you idiot. Look what she did to you. Look how easy it was for her to find a way into your life. Into your pants. Into your heart? That last bit is a question, taunting me. Making my skin crawl. Into my heart? Did she get there? I don’t know and I’m not sure I want to ponder that just now, as I take the elevator down to the lab.

  Accompanied by two security guards who will escort Miss Weissman out of my premises.

  Getting rid of Regina was easy, but getting rid of Sam is another matter altogether. Her claws are deeper in my flesh. God, I hate this.

  But I’m the boss, and it’s my job to make the tough calls. She’s lucky I believe in discretion, or I would’ve had her meet me in my office and paraded her through the top floor, so everyone would see, whisper and gossip behind us.

  We stop outside the lab and I take a deep breath. I know she’s in there. The security logs tell me she just entered not five minutes ago, and the door hasn’t opened since. I use my card key to get in, swinging the door open with determination.

  She lied to me.

  She thought she could get away with it. Nobody gets away with trying to make a fool out of me. My hands clench into tight fists as I catch sight of her. I can see she’s been deep in thought over something. The sight of her sends waves of nausea rolling through me.

  Sam looks up at the sound of the door, her gaze flickering over to where the two guards are standing, one over each of my shoulders. Her frown deepens, her eyes darken. “What is this?” she whispers.

  “What do you think it is?” I’m in the presence of two other employees. There can be no personal exchange here. Thank God, because seeing her again, makes me doubt my own eyes. How can she look so innocent? Yet, I saw her get into Weissman’s car.

  “I don’t understand.” She rises.

  Wasn’t I just inside her less than two hours ago? Wasn’t it good? The best?

  “It’s time for you to go. Now. You’re fired.”

  A host of emotions play upon her face, her expression shifting back and forth. “Wh-what? Fired? What did I do?” Her eyes bore holes into me, as though asking the question she doesn’t dare give voice to. Am I firing her for turning me down for lunch?

  Does she think I’m that petty?

  “Come on. Let’s go.” I’m at the end of my tether as it is, barely holding on to the last shreds of self-control. She used me. She lied. An
d lied. Again and again. Every damn thing was a lie. She even used my daughter to get closer to me. This realization is the final straw. I can’t even look at her.

  “Hurry up, please,” I bark.

  She fumbles for her purse, still obviously shaken by this turn of events. Did she think I would never find out? Well, I did. Weissman took a clever gamble by choosing her, but he underestimated me.

  “What’s going on, Lincoln?” she asks, her voice a hoarse whisper, pleading with me as she crosses the room. Not with words. With her eyes, as if she believes she deserves better than this. As though she deserves anything.

  What a laugh.

  “We’re leaving. Now.” I wave to the guards, who flank her as we exit the lab and walk down the hall. It’s empty, most people probably still taking late lunches, or hard at work. Good. I don’t want a scene, no matter how vile she is. I find it hard to hurt her.

  “Can I at least—”

  “No. You have no options here. You have no rights. You don’t seem to understand how something like this works.”

  “How something like what works?” She turns to me as we arrive at the elevators, eyes searching my face. “What is this? What is it, really? Please.”

  She’s a good actress. A damned good one. I can almost believe she’s truly stricken with grief over this turn of events. Her eyes, when I dare to meet her gaze, are wide with emotion and sparkling with unshed tears.

  Yes, she’s a good actress, and she fooled you. In all probability, she’s his lover. Don’t forget the way his hand moved to the small of her back when he picked her up.

  My heart hardens.

  “I’ll take it from here,” I advise the guards.

  They exchange a dubious look but fall back, allowing me to accompany Samantha into the elevator. Alone.

  The second the doors slide shut, she whirls on me. “I know why you’re doing this, but you’ve got it all wrong! I’m not the one who leaked the design to Weissman!”