by jm blake
But I’m not that man. The blood of conquerors runs through my veins, and I never let anything stand in the way when I want something.
And I want her. Again and again.
But I’m nothing if not strategic. So I’ll give Miss Cassidy this little win. I let her go, and she quickly grabs her infamous leather satchel and overcoat, moving with speed to the door. Her arse is spectacular in that skirt, and I speak directly to it.
“Cassidy?” She doesn’t turn around, instead, taking a deep breath and tossing her sublime head. I have about one thousand things I want to say. “I’ll see you at the lab tomorrow.” She nods once and strides out of my office.
As my best friend Nick says—
Game. Fucking. On.
Ayden
“So, I’m not crazy, right? Dr. Masters, is your missing bird from the other night?” Bash is sipping from a cup of tea as we wait in the conference room above the lab. I managed to dodge him the day before, leaving the office shortly after Cassidy did. I took home the dossier Bash had initially sent me and poured over the details. They were scant on personal information, but everything else about her academic and professional accomplishments was listed:
High school graduate at fifteen.
Uni and doctorate at twenty-one.
Another doctorate at twenty-four.
A project with one of our direct competitors.
An exciting and experimental teaching study at Berkley called the ‘Birds Nest.’ Again details were light, but she was in demand by many universities looking to duplicate the program.
Her contract was rather complicated- I definitely had questions for her about it. Interestingly enough, not even the internet gave her away—all her papers and accolades referred to her as merely “Dr. Masters.” There were no photos- something I was shocked at, given how stunning she was. She had no social media, though one older article noted that she had two siblings. (God, there were more of them? I need to find out if one was a sister for Bash).
I won’t deny that I’m fascinated by her. But I’m sure it’s just a passing thing—I’m sure that once I get her back into bed, I’ll get over it.
Probably.
“Yes. How did you figure it out?” I really am curious.
“Well, in your long and drawn out rant about her running out on you, you kept remarking about her eyes and those dimples- as well as, uh, some of her other attributes. It hit me once I looked at her, but she smiled, and then I knew it. She does look a lot like Melina, but more… I don’t know, warm? She is magnificent. And brilliant. I have an excellent feeling about this.” He takes a bite of a bagel with smoked salmon that Phyl has laid out in a spread. “What was her explanation for leaving the way that she did?” His eyebrows raise in question.
“She said that she simply had no idea the etiquette involved and thought that she was supposed to leave.” I don’t tell him that I have a suspicion that there is a deeper reason, one that either embarrassed or upset her. Bash isn’t known for his tact where ribbing me is involved. I can only imagine the things he would come up with.
He makes a face and sniffs. “That’s …odd? I mean, normally, women have to be pried out of your bed with a crowbar. You must be losing your touch.” His eyes are twinkling, and I scowl at him.
“Shut your mouth. My touch is just fine. Anyhow, she and I discussed it, and we are going to keep it strictly professional. What happened, happened and we can move on from it.” I brush some imaginary lint off of my suit jacket and avoid looking at him. Three…two…one…
A shout of laughter comes out of his mouth. Bits of bagel threaten to spill out, and he dabs his mouth with a napkin. He’s still chuckling when he punches my arm. “Do you expect me to believe that? You could barely keep your cock in your pants the entire meeting yesterday, and she looked like a cross between wanting to kill you or kiss you. You two have chemistry for days. There is no bloody way you’ll be able to manage to stay away from each other.” He’s still laughing when Phyl pops her head in to let us know that Cassidy has arrived with Pat.
“It’s what she wants, alright? Perhaps after her contract ends we can try, but right now, it’s just professional. Try and keep your comments and rubbish innuendos to yourself. I don’t want to lose her on this project.” I have no intention of staying away from her, but Bash doesn’t need to know that. And judging by his skeptical expression, he doesn’t believe me.
The door swings open, and Cassidy enters with Pat on her heels. She is back in black, this time in a t-shirt with an odd picture on it and tight dark jeans. She has on the same old Doc Martens from earlier, her thick hair in a long braid. Her ever-present glasses are perched on her slim nose; handbag hanging off of one shoulder.
She looks like a dream.
I don’t realize that I am just staring at her until Bash elbows me sharply, and I dial into the fact that Pat is giving her a list of stats on the lab. She reaches out and shakes Bash’s hand before reluctantly offering me hers. A faint bit of pink highlights her cheeks, and I grin like a jackal. “Dr. Masters. I trust that you slept well.” Her eyes narrow and her lips thin.
“I slept better than I ever have, thank you, Mr. St. Devane. Bash, I can’t wait to see the building and device.” She turns a cold shoulder at me, and my brother grins. He is going to get way too much enjoyment out of this.
Pat offers her a cup of coffee, and she sweetly accepts, asking for cream and sugar. He scampers to make it, and I grimace. I should have offered myself up, but I was too wrapped up in the weird feeling I keep getting in my chest whenever she’s near me. I rub it again and stop myself from snatching the cup out of Pat’s hands and handing it to her myself. I watch as her mouth touches the edge of the cup, and she takes a healthy sip. I swallow hard and shake it off.
“Dr. Masters, may I call you Cassidy?” At her nod and smile, Bash continues, “As you know, what we are trying to accomplish is a working solar oven—a way for us to focus solar energy in a way that can help make materials like glass, cement, etc. Because sunlight is carbon-free, it will replace those horrid fossil fuels and lower greenhouse gases, truly becoming clean energy. A few of our competitors have achieved one part of this process, but we are further along than anyone knows. We have been able to marry the nanotech with mirrors, but we are having a hard time stabilizing it. This is where your expertise comes in. We are one hundred percent open to anything you recommend. I don’t care how small it is—please share your opinion and suggestions. We have some of the top minds in solar and nanotechnology working on this, but no one matches your knowledge level. I was informed yesterday that several of the techs refer back to two of your publishings frequently, so I can tell you that they will be thrilled with your presence.”
He gestures to the door behind us, and we move to the lift in the hallway. Using a keycard, Pat calls for the car, and we board to descend. When it opens, we are in a small foyer with two security guards posted. The larger one steps forward and hands all of us lab coats but personally helps Cassidy with hers. I’m about one minute aways from thrashing him, but Bash clears his throat and shakes his head minutely. I mutter a curse and step back.
There is a series of lockers against the wall, and Pat gestures toward Cassidy. “We ask that everyone who enters the lab leaves all personal items behind, including cell phones.” He empties his pockets and places them in a top locker. Bash and I follow suit, and Cassidy puts her bag and jacket into a lower one. She adjusts her glasses and looks around, her sweet face already concentrating hard on every detail.
We walk through two sets of doors and enter the large room. There are desks set up along the white walls and dotting the interior. About one hundred people are rushing about and congregating around an array of computers. In the distance, a large double glass door leads to the outside area where tall trees and fencing hide a field of mirrors. One man breaks away from a group and hurries toward us. He nervously runs his fingers through his thin hair and smiles.
“Mr’s Devane, Mr. Wilto
n. Welcome. We have some exciting things to show you today.” He looks curiously at Cassidy, who is peering around the room with a frown. “Hello. I’m Dr. Batroni, head of Project Apollo. And you are?” His tone is a bit rude, and Bash and I both bristle at it. We were cautious not to let anyone know that we were bringing in some outside help, and even Chris and Alec were sworn to secrecy. We wanted honest feedback— based on pure observation, not after a dog and pony show.
Cassidy blinks while slowly meeting his eyes. I see that stubborn lift of her chin as well as a frightening look on her face. “What are the five basic things that you consider when setting up a lab?” There is a short silence while Dr. Batroni’s mouth opens like a fish. “I beg your pardon?” he asks indignantly.
“I said, what are the five things you consider when setting up a lab? Surely you understand the question?” She stares him down, and he twitches. I’m about to interfere and slap this wanker down but realize that Cassidy has probably had to deal with arseholes like this her whole career. Not only is a she a female, but she is petite and beautiful. I’m sure that most people don’t take her seriously at first glance.
“Let me help you out: Flexibility, Environmental Factors, Positioning, Use of Space, and Durability. You have failed on three of these already. I also see no rest areas for the workers and where are the coffee stations? The snack stations? Where are the wipe boards? I applaud your use of sterility, but this environment hampers creativity.— it’s a repetitive space.” She waits for him to respond and when he stares at her, she continues. “I need to see all the reports on the heating structure, the materials list, and I need to meet with the nano group. Preferably in that order. Bash, is there a work station that I can enlist for the time being?” He nods and smiles.
“Great. Dr. Batroni?” She puts her hands in her lab pockets and tilts her head. I can automatically see that this is a familiar stance for her, and I’m fascinated by it. I can see her striding through a lab taking charge and whipping everyone into shape. Fuck, that makes my cock hard.
Greg Batroni shakes off his shock and puffs up his chest. “I’m sorry, miss. But just who the hell are you?” There’s a bit of sweat on his upper lip, and his eyes dart over to me, likely worrying about the end of his current lifespan.
Cassidy just smirks. “I’m Dr. Masters, and I’m here to save your ass. Now, where is my desk?”
Cassidy
Dr. Batroni is a butthead.
Look, I don’t typically enter into a colleague’s lab and start swinging big-dick energy all over the place, but sometimes you gotta let ‘em know. I read all about Greg Batroni last night and reached out to a few people who knew him, and the common consensus was that he was an arrogant assface. He had semi-impressive credentials (yeah, I’m a little snobby-Ivy League here), and he has done some great work on Project Apollo. But he also has a reputation for being hard-headed and short-sighted- two things that can be the kiss of death for any scientist. Also, the ratio of males to females in his lab was embarrassing. There were THREE whole women on the team, and that set me off.
So not only did he gave me the once-over (which I’m almost positive elicited some sort of growl out of Ayden) and not because his lab is set up like shit, but because he genuinely cannot understand why I’m here. Me. A woman. Grrrr.
After I told him who I was and Bash secured my desk, he still had that annoyingly ignorant look on his face. It was starting to get on my nerves, and finally, Bash and Ayden had to explain to him what I was doing here. Even Pat had to jump in and soothe his upset feelings— while I tried to see the back of my brain by rolling my eyes in my head. I made myself busy by introducing myself to the rest of the team and laughed when quite a few of them seriously asked for my autograph. They were excited to have me on board and answered all of the questions I fired at them. I was happy to note that, for the most part, it was a great group. There were a few that I thought needed to switch to other areas of the project for a more significant impact, but that was minor.
They finally calmed the big baby down and he stomped his way over to where I was talking to some folks from the nano team. I could tell he would like nothing more than to shove me straight on a plane back to the US, but both Bash and Ayden were standing behind him like two pissed off parents. He grudgingly welcomed me to the lab and told me to make myself at home. I gave him a big ol’ toothy grin and agreed that I would, while waving the two handsome fools away. Now that I’m in a lab, I can get the work done. Pat promises to come back for me later, and Ayden says nothing, just stares at me with those amber flecked eyes. I nod at him, his gaze is unfathomable, yet speaks volumes.
I shrug off that look of his and focus back on the work. Before I know it, I feel a tap on my shoulder and see Pat standing there with a kind smile on his face. I notice that quite a few people have already left, and the crew I’m working with seems exhausted. I apologize for my killing pace, and they fall all over themselves, assuring me that it’s okay. I discreetly look over Pat’s shoulder and don’t see Ayden anywhere. Batroni is also long gone, which doesn’t surprise me, that slacker.
Pat escorts me to his car, and we chat animatedly on the ride back to London. He has a wife and two small children, went to primary school with Bash, and fervently believes in this project. Pat boasts about the sustainability efforts of the company and how DevCo donates a hefty portion of its profits to environmental causes. He asks me a few questions on my impression so far, and I demur, preferring to get all of my thoughts into one place before answering. London traffic is thick, so the conversation turns onto me and my life back in San Fransisco. I don’t tell him much, but do mention my love for horror movies when he asks about my shirt. When we pull up in front of my cute little rental, he tells me he will see me in the morning and wishes me a good night. I unlock the door and step into the foyer, dropping my bag and toeing off my boots. A knock on the door startles me, and I open it immediately, thinking that I left something in Pat’s car.
Except it’s not Pat.
“How did you know where I was staying? Did you follow me?” I prop my hand on my hip and give him the stink eye.
Ayden is leaning on the frame to the door, his unfairly gorgeous face smiling smugly. “What would you rather me say- that I asked Pat where he picked you up, or that I followed you from Cambridge?” His grin widens and he edges me out of the way and maneuvers his way into the flat. “Well, this explains everything.”
I’m still standing in the now empty doorway with the door open. “Um, I would rather neither. Didn’t I tell you that we weren’t going to do this? And what explains what?” I shut the door firmly and whirl around leaning on it. Maybe if I can keep him in this general area, we can stay out of trouble. Of course this perfect looking asshole strolls further into the flat. I huff loudly and follow him, my arms wrapped around my middle. “Well?”
“We are only a few hundred meters from the Surrey-Mark. The morning after you..erm..ran I turned that whole building upside down looking for you. No one saw you leave except an old chap who claimed you went “to the right,” which turns out is accurate. It never occurred to me that you just waltzed around the corner. And I both asked Pat where you were staying and followed you. I couldn’t take the chance that you instructed him not to tell me anything.”
He sits on the comfy couch I’ve been enjoying since my arrival and leans back expectantly. His long, lean frame is almost too much, and as hard as I’m trying to not stare at his face, I fail miserably. It should be a crime how fucking hot he is. He is more groomed than yesterday, with a perfectly tailored navy three-piece suit and tie combo, his short hair laid flat on the sides, a bit messy on top. He hasn’t shaved though, so that yummy dark scruff is framing his juicy lips perfectly.
God, help me.
“If I did that, then he would wonder why, and that would cause problems we don’t need. Why are you here, Ayden?” I refuse to sit close to him and choose the thick carpet instead. He smirks in recognition and my teeth grate. “I have ques
tions.”