by Amber Bardan
I knew right then the full honest truth of us. The truth that doomed us. If this went any further, he’d never let me go.
Never.
He had no slow.
And maybe that’s why I liked him. Selfishly. I’d been jealous of Angelina and Haithem. Jealous of the love they had and the way they took care of each other. Of their closeness and devotion. What they had, glowed, and I wanted more than to bask in their light—I wanted my own.
I glanced at his fingers closed over my wrists. His grip shifted, gentled. I could break it. I could break free if I could bring myself to try.
No matter how I’d resisted, I’d longed to fall in love, and with Avner it was all I could do not to. I looked back up to him. His features had softened, but his gaze was no less intense. Except, it was one thing to let myself have that special feeling for a time, and another to get so caught up in it, I forgot the most important thing—nothing I had could ever be long-term.
I pried myself loose and stepped free.
It wasn’t my father’s legacy of fear and broken confidence that had my sad, lonely future all mapped out.
I tried to say something. Give him some kind of excuse that maybe he’d believe. But my throat was thick. Pressure pushed against the back of my eyes with tears I would not cry. What my mother left me with was the real curse.
“What aren’t you telling me, Emma?”
“Don’t leave.” Those words echoed in my past. I’d begged Mum to stay. Begged her not to leave me alone. Not to leave me all alone with him.
She’d had no choice but to go—and neither would I.
I shuddered, shutting my mind to the door that was both my life’s trajectory and the one thing too painful to dwell on.
“Don’t leave.” His words still rang in my ears. What had I been thinking? Caring for me would only lead to heartbreak. He’d never let me go. And there was no guarantee I could stay.
“This isn’t working.” I pulled myself together one agonizing breath at a time. “We’re done.”
* * *
I’d expected to be turned away, but when I arrived at Waldolf’s technology offices, Dean’s assistant Jasmine led me directly to the conference room.
I set my bag on the floor and folded my hands on the table, attempting to slow my rioting pulse. This had to happen. Had to. I wasn’t simply running out of options, I was running out of sanity.
Running out of hope.
Avner’s face flashed in my head. I blocked him out—somewhat. You can’t block out something that’s part of you, and he had somehow made an impression I’d never escape.
But I could shut out the feeling.
At least for now. This wasn’t the time for self-pity, or even for guilt.
Dean strode in, adjusting his cuff, and positioned himself on the other side of the table. “Hello, Emma.”
“Dean,” I said, taking a calming breath.
Jasmine set a pile of folders next to him, then left. I watched her go, leaving me alone with Dean and my impending fate.
“I’d like to begin by apologizing for last night.”
My gaze snapped to him.
“It’s none of my business who you are dating.” He leaned his hands on the tabletop. “So if you are prepared to hear me out, then we can agree that as long as there’s no conflict of interest, and we can all be professional, then your private life can remain just that—private.”
Wait. Dean was apologizing to me? I’d taken him for an always-righter.
I pulled my scattered thoughts together. “Thank you, I’d appreciate that.”
“Then let’s get right to it. Waldolf would like to pursue your research.” He took a folder and handed it to me. “Here’s my offer.”
I took the folder, steadying my fingers from the shake, and opened it in front of me. Holy shit. This was it. Finally.
Thank god.
I could’ve cried.
He handed me a pen.
I took it, glancing at the sticky tabs. He wanted me to sign right now?
“Thanks.” I sat the pen next to the folder and began reading.
“Take your time.”
I glanced up. Oh, I intended to. His mouth pursed. I went back to studying the terms. There was money on the table, real money not just for my research but for me. More money than I could’ve anticipated being paid personally. My jubilation wound down. I’m not sure what I expected. Of course whoever took me on would want security, protection, control even, but it hadn’t hit me until then just how powerless I’d be.
I could be fired from my own research. Demoted. Left out of every decision. My life’s work would be theirs to do with as they pleased. For good or for greed.
“Something wrong?”
“Not wrong.” I moistened my lips. “But we haven’t really spoken about your vision for all of this. You say my research has potential, that it’s compelling, but what do you, do Waldolf, hope to achieve?”
“Emma, the first step is proving it can even be done.” He smiled, flashing those Ken-doll teeth. “Then we go from there.”
“Go to where?” I left it at that. Wouldn’t give him my own ambitions to repeat back to me, he’d have to give me his.
“We’d hope to explore the full potential, obviously, but clearly, sustaining life for terminal heart patients is the primary objective here, isn’t it?”
I stared at him. “Of course.”
“What did you think?” He cocked a brow.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. But Avner’s warnings rushed back. Those possibilities had haunted my dreams—where I’d had post-apocalyptic nightmares of indestructible soldiers. “I just wanted a better understanding of what you expect.”
He glanced at the pen on the table. “And you may ask all the questions you please, but I’d like you to know we are excited about this. Once you sign we will begin immediately. We’ve already allocated a lab at our technical base.”
My pulse quickened. I looked again at the contract. What was wrong with me? There was an offer from the king of microtechnology, hot in my hands, and I couldn’t bring myself to sign it. Something about it just seemed...slippery.
“Thank you, I’m thrilled.” I closed the folder. “But I’m sure you have no objection to me seeking legal advice.”
His gaze narrowed. “That’s your right, of course.”
But not your preference?
I was doubly glad for my caution. “Thank you, I’ll do that.”
“Okay, but understand, Emma, I cannot hold resources like this aside forever. I’ll need an answer in three weeks.”
I took a deep breath. Three weeks was generous considering he was holding onto a lab. Hopefully it’d be long enough to resolve my concerns. I stood and collected the file. “I really appreciate it, Dean.”
He smiled, and while suspiciously bright, it was friendly. “I would love to have you as part of the Waldolf team.”
I reached out and he shook my hand. “I can’t wait.”
I clutched the contract in my free arm. Literally, I couldn’t wait much longer. God willing, I wouldn’t have to.
* * *
Clearance sale. Those two magnificent words cut through my gloom and filled my heart with a kind of glee that I’d been needing.
I slid a little white dress with a narrow black belt off the rack.
Shopping therapy was in order. I’d bitten the bullet and taken casual shifts at a pharmaceutical company the day after my meeting with Waldolf. My bank balance simply wouldn’t allow for taking time to contemplate offers. I wouldn’t be forced into accepting something out of poverty.
Plus I now had a lawyer to pay for who charged every time we so much as exchanged an email. Thief. So, crappy casual job it was. For now.
Unless Dea
n rejected the proposed changes we sent through...
I held the dress in front of myself and turned to the mirror mounted on the wall between displays. Cute. The dress came knee length, with a short work-suitable slit on the thigh. In fact, it wasn’t too dissimilar to the dress I was already wearing since I’d come straight from work.
I flipped over the tag and cringed. The scrawled numbers in red, even heavily discounted, were outside today’s clothing budget. I gazed at my reflection. Who needed another white dress anyway?
Movement flashed in the mirror from the space behind me. A gaze collided with mine—jarring. The figure ducked behind a column. I froze, attention fixed on the reflection. It wasn’t like a man never looked at me in a department store before. But even half concealed under the rim of a basketball cap, it was impossible not to recognize the difference between looking and watching. Plus, this guy was big. Really big. His T-shirt strained around his tattooed biceps. My heart ricocheted off my ribs, making my whole body shudder. I shoved the dress back onto the rack, and resisted the urge to turn around. Instead I walked with short, even steps to the rack of clothing beside another column.
I flicked through clothing until reaching the pillar. The instant my body came even with the obstruction, I ducked down and weaved behind another rack of clothes, then crept around the corner to the short passage toward the elevators. I pressed both elevator buttons, not caring which direction arrived first.
The elevator dinged. I rushed through the doors before they finished opening and pressed the close button three times. The elevator shut. My heart thunked its way back down to normal.
The elevator opened to the top floor of the department store. I stumbled out into the jewelry section and glanced around. This section of the store was almost vacant. No sign of the basketball cap man.
Whoever he was, I’d lost him. I rolled my shoulders. I’d hang around here for a while and give him a chance to leave.
Maybe I was being paranoid?
Maybe not...
Someone was just watching me, and less than a week ago I’d been drugged in a bar. Maybe Avner was right. I rubbed the back of my left hand and up my arm. My palm scraped along the edge of the watch, still a foreign clamp around the bones of my wrist. I stroked over the large face of the watch.
“May I help you with something?”
I glanced at the attendant. A woman in a store uniform of black skirt and jacket.
An excuse to linger somewhere with someone else occurred to me. “Yes please, I need this watch valued for insurance. Can you help with that?”
“Of course, come and take a seat.” She led me to a small table and chair in the corner between two display cabinets.
I laid my arm on the glass surface and she took out a notepad.
“Well this is different...” She examined the watch face. “There’s no branding, could you take it off? There might be a maker’s mark on the back.”
I turned my wrist over, then remembered the clasp. Dammit, Avner never loaded the app on my phone. “It won’t come off right now.”
“What?” She, Rachel, according to the name on her badge, slid a magnifying glass out of a drawer and held it over the clasp.
“There’s an anti-theft precaution.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this.” Rachel drew my wrist closer and ran a finger over the smooth clasp, then glanced up at me. “It certainly could be very valuable. It appears to be made of gold, but it’s definitely a custom piece, one of a kind.”
“Almost.” Angelina wore one too.
“I’m sorry but without seeing a maker’s mark, I just can’t estimate a value. I’d only be able to take a guess at the value of the materials.” Rachel put away the notepad and magnifying glass.
“That’s okay.” It wasn’t as though I was updating my insurance today. Truth be told I wanted to know for the same snoopy reasons I wanted to know everything. I spun the jewelry carousel on the table, stopping at a love heart–shaped necklace with a pink stone in the center.
“See something you like?”
Maybe, but hearts weren’t my thing. That trip to Italy must’ve corrupted my tastes.
“That’s a pink sapphire with pavé diamonds, would you like to try it on?”
There were exactly zero jewelry dollars in my budget, but I was sure what she actually meant to say was, Would you like to play dress-up?
The answer to that was yes—Yes, Rachel, I would like to play dress-up.
“Sure.”
Rachel unlocked the case, took out the necklace and handed it to me. I held it in my palm, then undid the clasp and clamped it back together behind my neck. Rachel passed me a handheld mirror.
“Oh, that suits you.”
The necklace glittered at the base of my throat, and while I liked pretty things as much as the next girl, I’d never really lusted for diamonds.
Clothes, yes. Shoes—freaking definitely.
But this was so pretty I’d almost trade the six months’ worth of fresh food I’d have to give up in order to get it—almost.
The phone behind the counter buzzed.
Rachel smiled at me. “I’ll be right back, take your time deciding.”
I gave her a small smile in return. There was no decision to make. I wouldn’t be buying this even though I technically could, probably, if I tried hard enough and got it on a plan. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy the fuck out of wearing it for another five minutes.
I held the mirror to the left, then to the right. A sigh whooshed out of me. The thing about dress-up as a grown-up is that there’s a moment, inevitably, where reality creeps in and squishes the joy of make-believe.
Damn adulthood.
There was a time when putting on clear plastic shoes was enough to convince me I was Cinderella for the duration of an entire day. I lowered the mirror. A reflection bounced off the surface. Someone lurked behind me. My hand stilled there, with the mirror an inch or two above the table.
I glanced at Rachel still talking on the phone. My pulse sprinted through my veins and rushed through my cheeks.
My hair follicles prickled. Evading him hadn’t worked. There was one thing I’d learned about creeps—they were opportunistic and their preference was for easy victims. I leaped to my feet and spun around, then raised my hand and pointed to the person standing across from the jewelry section in Electronics.
I kept my hand still, free from shaking, and shot him the meanest I-see-you-mother-fucker glare I could muster.
He stepped out from behind the camera display and faced me. I held my ground, heels rooted firmly on the industrial department store carpet. I took in all the details about him I could, and filed them away in a box in my mind labeled creeper. Average height, thirties maybe, enough muscle tone that I wouldn’t want to get any closer. The cap ruined the view of his face and eyes, but his jaw was rounded.
I glanced at the tattoo on his arm.
He strode forward—toward me—and reached inside his jacket.
Shit.
Adrenaline exploded into the blood shooting frantically though my system. I may hold up fighting girls in the ring, but I wouldn’t test my skills against a goddamned gun. I ran for the escalator and pounded down the moving steps. Footsteps banged metal behind me. I hit the ground, then took the next escalator down. Sweat coated my face by the time I reached ground level, and I raced for the exit.
Two security offers in white shirts rushed toward me from either side talking into radios. Thank god. Rachel must’ve seen what happened and called security.
I ran to the closest guard.
He grabbed on to my shoulders. “Gotcha.”
I blinked up at the security guard, ragged breaths stealing my words.
What did he mean—got me?
Chapter Sixteen
Emma
You’ve got to be kidding. I rubbed my arms. The cop entered my details into his system. Thanks a bunch, Rachel, for noticing me running off with a necklace but not the stalker chasing after me.
“You know, all you’d have to do is take one tiny look at the security footage and you’d see exactly what I’m talking about.”
The cop glanced up from his keyboard and looked at me over the top of his glasses. He slid the phone on his desk toward me. “Make your call, Miss Neeson.”
Douchebag.
I grabbed the phone. And after the cleavage I’d leaned over for him to see... I punched in the number, and raised the receiver to my ear. The phone rang. The cop tapped away at the computer. Please answer. The ringing continued. I held a breath.
The line clicked.
“Angelina, thank god—”
“I’m afraid Angelina is unavailable, may I take your message?” the familiar voice interrupted.
“You’re answering her phone now?” I groaned. Bloody Karim, Haithem’s assistant. “Put her on, it’s important.”
“She’s indisposed.”
I cupped my hand over the mouthpiece. “Cut it, Karim. I’m thrilled she’s discovered the joy of sex, but this is urgent.”
The phone went quiet.
“How urgent?”
I glanced at the cop. “I’d rather not say.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
My chest tightened. If Angelina couldn’t come, the only other people I could call were her parents, and I still hadn’t recovered from the last time I’d had to call them for help. I’d definitely never recover from them seeing me hit this low. “I’ve been arrested.”
“Where are you now?”
I gave Karim the details of the police station.
“It will be okay, Emma.”
My shoulders drooped. So maybe there was a soul under all those layers of old-fashioned formality. “Thanks, Karim.”
I hung up the phone. The cop kept typing. What happened now? I’d never been arrested before. Would I go on trial for theft?
