by Tasha Black
Maybe she’d better get a copy.
No, no, that wasn’t necessary. West was going to help Jessica, the technology was there. And the sooner he did it, the sooner Cordelia could get back to being herself.
The idea was so comforting that suddenly she needed to know when it would happen. Instead of replying to Mallory’s text, she opened her conversation with West.
CC:
When should we schedule Jessica to meet with Mallory for pre-lim?
Still no answer.
Her phone told her the message had been read earlier that morning.
Why hadn’t he responded yet? What if he changed his mind?
Her chest tightened at the thought.
She knew she was being ridiculous. He adored Jess and had no reason to refuse. He was probably just busy.
She took another deep breath and stared into her own familiar blue eyes in the mirror.
“You can do this,” she whispered to herself.
The blonde in the mirror looked determined enough, so she turned on her heel and headed back to the investors.
10
Elizabeth Sterling cursed inwardly as she sprinted down the hall toward Edward. He was too fast, and she didn’t dare allow herself to adapt to keep up.
She’d known he was working for Worthington, but she’d assumed he wouldn’t be in shape or in control, especially after the last time she’d seen him.
That was an error on her part, an error that might prove fatal for Edward.
How could she be so stupid?
But where Dalton was concerned, she had always led with her heart, no matter how hard she tried not to.
She pushed herself faster, but he disappeared around a corner.
The boom of the shotgun blast echoed through the halls.
No, no, no, no, no…
Her senses amped up without her consent, something that hadn’t happened to her in years.
Before she could panic, she scented the caustic tang in the air that told her the gun was loaded with what the troops called “crybaby rounds” - shotgun shells packed with a mix of rubber pellets and pepper spray. Normally, they were less than lethal. Although with his senses heightened, Edward would probably wish he were dead.
She gathered herself as she rounded the corner. Inside her, there might be a tsunami brewing, but her outside had to stay unruffled if she wanted to keep the troops in line.
Like children, the men and women in her command craved something constant in their ever-changing world. And Sterling was the electric fence holding them safely inside. Though they might test her daily, they would always find the barrier in the same place. And if they pushed, they would feel the shock.
She took in the scene before her with what she knew was an impassive expression.
Edward was still on his back on the ground, tears and snot streaming down his face. Just the remaining traces of pepper spray in the air were enough to double Sterling’s vision and burn her lungs. He would be suffering terribly.
This wasn’t what she wanted.
She forced herself to scan the rest of the scene.
Damn. Anatoly. She should have guessed.
The huge soldier was grinning down at his handiwork. Shooting without asking questions was right up his alley.
Three more soldiers stepped into the main hall behind him.
Before she could question Anatoly, Dalton rolled over and vomited on the floor.
That was fast. He was strong, maybe stronger than before.
He began trying to get to his hands and knees.
“Stay down!” Anatoly yelled, kicking Dalton hard in the ribs before Sterling could stop him.
Dalton was suddenly, unbelievably, on his feet. He roared at Anatoly, spittle flying out of his mouth, though his eyes were bloodshot and nearly swollen shut.
“Stand down!” she shouted, before either man could do the other damage.
But Anatoly leveled his gun at Dalton again.
The three soldiers from down the hall had arrived and two more were on the way.
“I said, stand down, Rostov” she said quietly, allowing her voice to go icy cold.
Anatoly kept his gun trained on Dalton.
Okay, then. Time to make some corrections.
She grabbed his gun and shoved it toward his face.
He managed to stop it before it hit him. He was much stronger than she was.
Good thing that wasn’t the only thing that mattered.
Now they had come to a critical crossroads. If he backed down, she would allow him to walk away. Everyone made mistakes.
Instead, Anatoly pushed back against the gun, trying to aim at Dalton once more. She’d expected as much.
And if he was going to push, he needed to get the shock.
Instead pushing back against him in a fruitless battle of strength, she pulled, hard.
The sudden change caught Anatoly off balance, causing him to stumble forward.
Immediately, Sterling let go of the gun, and launched a searing ridge-hand to his exposed throat. The big man never saw it coming.
Anatoly dropped to the ground, wheezing for air.
He would be fine in a minute, and maybe next time he would think twice when she gave him an order.
Sterling grabbed the gun and emptied the remaining shells to the floor, then tossed it to one of the soldiers.
“Get him out of here,” she said, casually indicating the spluttering Anatoly.
Dalton began to sway on his feet.
“Let me help you, Edward,” she said in the gentlest tone she would adopt in front of her men.
He bared his teeth and took a step toward her.
The men behind her shuffled. She put up her hand to hold them off.
“Come on, my brave one, I can make it all go away. Wouldn’t that be nice?” she asked him.
His bloodshot blue eyes rolled up until she saw the whites, and he fell forward, as if in slow motion.
Sterling caught him in her arms - so different from the last time she had held him.
Heat radiated off him in waves. She ran a hand against his forehead - it was on fire.
Reluctantly, she gestured to two of the remaining soldiers.
“Help me get him back to his room,” she said.
They handled him carefully enough to satisfy her. She followed their slow procession down the long hallway.
This wasn’t going well.
She had pictured a very different reunion.
The thought sent ripples of heat through her center like warm honey.
Sterling had knowingly sacrificed her personal life for this career years ago. She should be able to handle a little disappointment. Surely he would come around.
And when he did, it would be worth waiting for. Edward Dalton didn’t disappoint.
Meanwhile, she would have to be more careful. It was awful to see him hurt, and so unnecessarily.
He had been through a lot, but surely he knew that she was on his side?
Sterling was usually pretty good at reading situations, but clearly she had missed something again when it came to Dalton. She both loved and hated the way he got under her skin. It had always been that way with him.
Maybe he had a girlfriend back home now. There was nothing on his profile to suggest it.
Sterling chose not to think about the alternative, that maybe he had never really trusted her in the first place.
11
The stretch limo was quite spacious, but as far as Cordelia was concerned it could be twice its current size and still not large enough to provide adequate privacy for the prince and princess.
They had begun their ride by pouring drinks. Cordelia had declined champagne and taken a glass of seltzer water, which she clutched now, as though she were trying to strangle it.
While the afternoon commuters of Glacier City hailed taxis and walked to the bus right outside the window, Tarek was unabashedly stretching Noora’s feet across the large bench seat onto his lap, and stroking her
slender thighs.
“Did you enjoy your meal, my darling?” he asked Noora, the way Cordelia imagined you might ask a cat if it enjoyed its milk.
“Not as much as I’m going to enjoy my dessert,” she whispered, kicking off what was surely a very expensive pair of shoes.
Noora began kneading her little feet into Tarek’s lap.
It would have taken a stronger woman than Cordelia not to do a double-take at the tent in his trousers. Noora cruelly massaged him everywhere except the one spot that clearly wanted massaging.
But Tarek didn’t seem to care. He chuckled and continued to stroke her legs slowly, almost soothingly, as though he wanted her to prolong his suffering.
Good grief, what was happening? Although Cordelia was deeply embarrassed, somehow she couldn’t take her eyes off them.
Cordelia felt her nipples go rock hard in her bra. Thankfully, it was a very sensible garment that wouldn’t broadcast her body’s shameful response to the crazy situation in this limo.
“Mm, that’s nice,” Tarek praised Noora in his deep voice, sliding his big hand further up her thigh.
Cordelia felt the sharp pang of Noora’s longing in her own center.
But Noora tilted her head back to laugh lightly, and did nothing to assuage Tarek’s desire.
Cordelia watched his eyes drink in Noora’s elegant neck, so beautifully exposed to him.
Again, she tried to look away and couldn’t.
Tarek leaned into Noora, rubbing his other hand across her abdomen and between her breasts.
She raised her head and they locked eyes.
For a long moment they were perfectly still. The sounds of the city outside faded away. There was only their harsh breathing, and the clink of the ice in Cordelia’s seltzer glass.
Suddenly, the little princess growled and sat up to snatch Tarek’s lower lip between her pearly teeth.
He smiled through the violence of her kiss and pulled her arms, she slid onto his lap so gracefully it was as though she were melting.
Cordelia waited for Noora to grind her hips against the bulge in Tarek’s pants. But instead the princess held still, until Tarek wrapped a handful of her silken hair in his hand and pulled her head backward so that he could kiss carelessly down her neck and nuzzle her breasts through the dress.
“We’ve arrived sir,” a voice came over the speaker.
Cordelia nearly jumped out of her seat.
The prince looked up at her, his dark eyes dancing with laughter.
“Thank you, Josef,” he said.
Cordelia was frozen.
“Come, darling,” Noora said, linking her arm with Cordelia’s just as the driver opened the car door.
The walk through the lobby of Worthington Enterprises was a blur. At some point, they reached the elevators.
Tarek made a gentlemanly gesture and the ladies entered first. He followed them in.
Cordelia pressed the unmarked button to start the downward journey to Med Pros.
The elevator had barely begun to move when Tarek leaned across her and pressed the red emergency stop button. He was so close Cordelia could have grabbed his lips in her own teeth.
Great.
She angled herself away from the couple. If they were going to indulge their urges in the elevator, she didn’t have to watch.
“Don’t worry, sweet Cordelia,” he said, and to Cordelia it seemed that his voice was almost sad.
She turned to look at him.
His handsome face wore an expression of concern. Noora, who was still holding Cordelia’s arm, began to caress his cheek.
“Why does our affection offend you so?” he asked simply.
Oh.
“No, no, I’m not offended,” Cordelia heard herself blathering.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe I’m a little… uncomfortable,” she conceded. “But that’s not the same thing.”
He smiled at her, his eyes kind.
“One day, you will be old,” he explained. “When that day comes, you will find yourself willing to give anything in the world to live and love as you did in your youth, even if only for a day. One more day to run barefoot in the grass. One more day to eat, drink or make love like only the youthful body and spirit can. But no matter how much you may wish it, it will not be.”
Cordelia had no idea how to respond.
“Fortunately,” he continued, his deep voice caressing her, “you are given these days now, freely. And they should be no less treasured. Every day you waste by not living is an insult.”
He touched her cheek so gently she almost couldn’t feel it. She was losing herself in the unending darkness of his eyes. Floating away on an inky ocean under a starless sky.
“What is it, Cordelia Cross, that makes your soul sing?”
West.
“I…,” she stammered, snapping back to reality. “My work makes me happy.”
“Lie to me all you wish,” he told her. “But you must never lie to yourself.”
“Miss Cross,” a tinny voice squawked from the overhead speaker, “everything okay in there?”
“We’re fine,” she managed.
“A thousand apologies,” Tarek announced. “I believe I accidentally leaned on the button.”
“Miss Cross?” the voice squawked again.
She tried to gather herself. Cordelia knew her voice was being scanned for unusual stress levels, and a heavily armed private security detail had been mobilized the instant the emergency stop had been activated.
Somehow, the thought didn’t help her to relax.
“Thank you, Mr. McSweeney,” she said, her voice level and calm. “I assure you, we are one hundred percent okay in here. Nothing to worry about.”
The seconds stretched out.
“Okey dokey, Miss Cross,” the voice said at last. “You folks enjoy the rest of your visit.”
Folks. As if he didn’t have a complete dossier on everyone in the elevator in front of him.
Cordelia let out a relieved sigh.
Tarek reached across her again, and for one crazy moment, Cordelia thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he pulled out the stop button and pressed the unmarked button he’d seen Cordelia push.
The elevator didn’t budge.
Shaken, Cordelia almost forgot why. She remembered herself and pressed her finger to the button, causing the elevator to jerk to life.
“Biometrics,” Noora commented, “very nice.”
The floor dropped and they continued their descent in silence.
Cordelia thought back to when the elevator used to go up to get to Med Pros, how high the view had been from up there.
How had West survived such a fall?
She had googled fall survivors during the dark days while they were all waiting to see if he would pull through. There were quite a few who had survived from falls of even greater height. But even while feeding her hope by reading the factual accounts, she had felt they seemed far-fetched.
The elevator doors slid open before she had time to finish wondering over West’s survival.
Her eyes widened at the sight that greeted them.
12
Cordelia and her guests stepped off the elevator.
Mallory Pruitt stood before them, wearing a professional smile, though Cordelia could hardly say the same for anything else about her appearance. Her hair blazed red, orange and yellow, like a human campfire. Her lab coat was unbuttoned to reveal a bright pink t-shirt underneath. Emblazoned over her breasts were the words:
Science: It works, bitches.
God help them.
“Welcome, Prince Isaam, Princess Noora, Miss Cross,” Mallory said warmly, nodding at each of them without extending her hand. Looked like she had done her homework on entertaining international guests, at least. Cordelia realized she’d momentarily made the same mistake she’d warned West about. No matter how much appearances might suggest otherwise, Mallory Pruitt was always the smartest person in the room.
“Thank you for the tour, Dr. Pruitt,” Noora replied, extending her hand.
Mallory shook it hard.
“May I show you some of the tech at work?” Mallory asked, cutting to the chase.
“Lead the way,” Noora said.
They moved slowly through the lab, Mallory explaining and Noora nodding and asking questions.
Tarek was silent, observing all that transpired between the women.
Mallory was in her element, explaining the intricate workings of the lab to a captive audience. Cordelia admired her ability to relax and be herself.
At length, Tarek spoke.
“Dr. Pruitt, how is progress coming on the nanotechnology?”
Mallory looked up as if she were surprised to see him still there. Then she shot Cordelia a questioning look.
Cordelia could hardly blame her. She didn’t know herself how the prince could know about the nano-tech. She shrugged at Mallory to proceed.
“It’s going well, Your Majesty. We’ve developed a nanotech complement to our prosthetics that will provide upkeep and internal maintenance,” she explained, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It will constantly perform millions of tiny repairs to prolong the life of the unit.”
“Call me Tarek, please. And what about the patient?”
“Pardon?” Mallory asked.
“What about prolonging the life of the patient?” Tarek asked. “Surely, all of the repairs have some effect on the overall health for the recipient?”
“Right now, they are highly specialized to focus on taking care of our tech,” Mallory explained. “The human body is far too complex for a single piece of nanotech to be ideally suited for all applications. When they are up and running, our nanobots will monitor and repair the components of our special reinervation procedure. We are also working on a strain that will aid in accelerated repair of skin damage, to both the artificial and the natural skin that the prosthetics tend to be rather harsh on.”
She paused, considering.
“But I suppose, yes,” she continued. “In the future, different strains could be developed to specialize in the different organs and systems of the human body. That would be a tremendous undertaking, though. One well beyond our scope.”
