by Megan Hart
Donahue stayed silent.
Nina leaned forward. “I was dead, Mr. Donahue. Breathing, but dead. Do you want to know what I saw when I was dead?”
Donahue leaned forward with a gleam of interest. “Tell me.”
“I can’t remember,” Nina said flatly. “Not a onedamned thing. No white light. No chorus of angels, singing me home. I can’t remember anything at all.”
“I’m not surprised,” Donahue told her. “There is nothing beyond death to see.”
Nina had never believed that, and she didn’t want to believe it now. The blank spot in her memories between those last moments before the attack and her first recollection of waking up in the hospital haunted her more than any of the other myriad dark spaces. “I said I didn’t remember anything, not that nothing existed.”
“Nothing does.”
“You’re a self-professed atheist.” It was no secret and had been written about him in nearly every interview he’d ever given. Donahue had officially dissolved his affiliation with Monodeityism, which had surged into worldwide popularity and replaced most of the original faiths three decades before either of them had been born.
“My lack of religious belief is exactly the reason why I don’t think we should be screwing around with that sort of tech,” Donahue said bluntly. “If humanity is meant to evolve, it will happen the way it’s supposed to. Not because we fill our heads with hardware. Don’t tell me you’re a Monodeist.”
“I do believe in something,” Nina said. “I’m not sure exactly what. But I want to believe there’s something for us after we go. So many people have seen and felt and heard it.”
Donahue shrugged. “Are you saying you’d rather have been left for dead than brought back?”
“No. Do you think I should wish I’d been left dead?” When he didn’t answer, she shook her head. “Those enhancements saved my life. Made me more than I could ever have been without them. I would not be here now if not for those surgeries and that tech, and I will never regret any of it. But the decision to make the tech illegal wouldn’t stop anyone from using me or anyone like me for their own purposes if they wanted to. I mean, you are.”
“That’s different!” The snap of anger in his eyes was a sudden, sizzling zing between them. His fists clenched, and though she didn’t want to imagine the strength of his grip and how it would feel if he put those hands on her, nevertheless she found her own fingers twitching in response. “I’m not choosing to use you for anything that’s against the law.”
“But you could,” she said. “I exist. So do the others.”
“And I don’t think there should be any more of you.”
“Is the reason why you’re so adamantly involved in blocking all upgrades to the current tech and eliminating any future research because you don’t want super soldiers to be utilized in international combat? Or is it because you don’t want us to exist at all?” Nina asked. “Do you think we should all have been left dead?”
Donahue shook his head and looked as though he meant to answer one way, but chose a different response at the last second. “Let’s just say the reasons for my working so hard to stop additional advancement in those technologies is personal.”
“Fair enough,” she said lightly, though it took a lot of effort to keep from sounding caustic. She took another spoonful of jam and spread it on the toast. Chewed. Swallowed. “So, will I be collecting my last pay deposit from you, or not?”
She felt the weight of Donahue’s gaze upon her, but she didn’t look at him. She concentrated on the flavors of the jam and the bread. She’d survived way worse than being fired by some rich bro with an axe to grind. He could think what he liked about her. It didn’t make it true.
She was not monster. Not a moral dilemma. She was a person, full and whole, and . . . Nina’s throat closed and she couldn’t eat another bite, no matter how delicious. She set the knife on the edge of her plate and put her hands in her lap, staring hard at the white tablecloth. Her mouth tasted bitter, but she drank some coffee anyway. This time, she didn’t make a happy sigh at the flavor. She didn’t make a noise at all.
“What would you do, if you were me?” he asked.
Nina shrugged and found a scrap of jam in the corner of her mouth. She caught him once more watching the motion of her tongue and paused, assessing that look. She’d thought he was judging her for being messy, but the hint of heat there told her maybe he was looking at her in a different way.
So many of them did, those powerful and rich men and women who’d hired her to keep them alive. They looked at her as something to be used. Sometimes, she let them. They never figured out she was using them, too.
“I’d fire me for insubordination, I guess. I’m a lot to put up with.” Nina shrugged.
He sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “But like you said before. You’re the best.”
“I am.”
“And I don’t settle for anything less,” Donahue said with a small, quirking smile that helped to ease the tension, if only a little.
“Why should you? It’s your life, after all.” Nina pushed the plate away and dusted her fingers of crumbs. “I guess you could stop doing things that make people want to kill you. It would be cheaper, in the long run.”
“Somehow, I don’t see that happening.”
“Then I guess I’ll be sticking around, at least for a while longer.” She finished her coffee, wishing the richness of the flavor hadn’t dulled for her after this conversation. She studied him and put the mug on the table. “Look. I can’t do anything to make them stop coming after you. I do promise to keep them from killing you. Or causing you major bodily harm. But I can’t promise they won’t do something awful to your jam spoon.”
She liked his face when he laughed. It made him seem accessible and human and fun, the sort of guy you’d want to shoot hoops with. Maybe hang out by the pool. It helped her to pretend he was not a close-minded bigot who stood in the way of her mental—and physical—survival.
“I can afford another jam spoon, if I need one,” Donahue said.
She leaned to dip it back into the pot of jam so she could spread it on another piece of toast. “Thank goodness for that. I hate to think what you’d do if you had to use, like, a plastic butter knife or something. I mean, oh, the horror.”
“That’s really what you think of me, huh?” Donahue looked thoughtful, and perhaps the smidgiest bit offended.
Nina shrugged, aware she should watch her words but not caring in that moment. When she got stung, she tended to sting hard in return. “Does it really matter what I think about you?”
“Maybe. Yes. Of course it does.”
“Why?” She pointed her triangle of toast at him before tucking it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed and this time was able to find a happy sigh at the flavors again. “I mean, in the end, why do you care about my opinions of you personally? I’m just a hired hand. Right? I’m a nothing.”
Donahue’s frown shouldn’t have made him as attractive as his smile did, yet the stern expression was still sexier than any man had a right to be. She was sure it got him places he wanted to go, but she’d hardly have to worry about that, would she? She wasn’t going to be a place he ever wanted to go.
“Sure. Right,” Donahue said but sounded as though he were disagreeing.
“Shiny fine, then.” Nina stood, hands on her hips. Brisk and matter-of-fact, bringing them both back to where this thing had to be and where it would stay. “So. What shall we do after breakfast?”
CHAPTER FOUR
It had been a long time since there’d been anyone in Ewan’s life who’d felt free enough to give him a hard time the way Nina seemed to feel so free doing. He didn’t count the journalists or social media commentators who viewed him as fair game and tore him apart for everything from his politics to his choice of socks. Or, of course, the various self-appointed social justice groups like the League of Humanity that had made it their goal to wipe him off the face of the
earth. He meant just regular people. Like . . . friends.
He couldn’t think of the last time he’d been able to trust anyone enough to consider them any more than an acquaintance. Even Dominic Rodriguez, the CFO of Donahue Enterprises, was more of a business associate. Ewan had been to the man’s wedding, sent him gifts at the birth of all his children, set aside money in trust funds for them, even. Still, Ewan couldn’t think of a time when he and Rodriguez had ever joked around or simply hung out socially, not at a planned event. He wasn’t sure he could call Rodriguez a true friend, and that meant Ewan probably had none.
Human interactions were more complicated than tech could ever be. The women who’d cycled in and out of his life had usually complained about a lack of connection from him. A certain coldness when it came to their emotions. Even when he’d been up-front with them from the start about what he expected and was willing to provide in a relationship, they all ended up seeming so surprised when it turned out he meant what he’d said. Some had lasted longer than others, because of his money. Some left angry. Most simply left disappointed in him, but that was their own fault. It wasn’t like he’d ever promised them something he didn’t give.
Glancing at Nina over the top of his computer monitor, Ewan reminded himself for what felt like the hundredth time since she’d arrived that he’d hired her to perform a service. That was it, even though it had ended up being a lot more personal and intimate than someone he’d taken on to work in the kitchen or to answer his correspondence. She’d been with him every single minute of every single day for the past week, to the point where he’d completely forgotten to be embarrassed that she knew his every personal habit inside and out.
Ewan had never been easy with sharing a space while sleeping, not even with the women he’d taken to bed. He’d gotten used to Nina being in his room. The hush of her breathing in the darkness between them. The rustle of sheets as she turned onto her side, her preferred sleeping position, although he knew that what he considered sleep was nothing close to what she was doing while she watched over him.
Protecting him.
He wasn’t too much of a man to admit that having her there, especially after how she’d reacted so quickly and perfectly to the initial attack, had come to feel more like a comfort than an inconvenience. Watching her now, the way the glow of the table lamp next to her lit her skin, he thought how soft she looked. All curves and shadows. Because Nina was soft, Ewan thought, or at least she could be, even though she was not only the toughest woman he’d ever met, but one of the strongest people, period.
She was also funny and smart and easier to be around than he had any right to expect. No, he hadn’t liked her insistence that she be at his side literally every minute, but even he could admit he’d been an ass about it. He could tell himself he’d have protested at anyone who’d insisted on this level of proximity and access to him, but Ewan knew it was because Nina was enhanced.
He hadn’t thought it would be so hard to face a constant, minute-by-minute reminder of all the ways he’d totally screwed over so many people. Looking at her now as she kept her attention on the tablet in her hands, he let himself drink in those curves and shadows on her face and wondered if she could sense what he was thinking. She wasn’t psychic, Ewan reminded himself, suddenly uncomfortable enough to push his focus back to his computer. She could barely keep her own mind in one piece, much less dig into someone else’s.
None of that mattered, he reminded himself sternly and focused back on his computer. There hadn’t been another attack since the first one with the tubes of gas in the bathroom, but his sources had told him there was lots of underground chatter from the League of Humanity about their upcoming plans. They’d taken credit for a number of vandalism attacks on a few of the research facilities he owned, but there’d been no confirmation, and his people were telling him that it was likely just bored kids, nothing to indicate anything more serious than that. Ewan was inclined to agree, since the LOH was fond of sending stronger warnings than spray-painted curse words.
Bored kids. Bored Ewan. Restless, he scrolled through a bunch of reports that were, if it were possible, even duller than the rest of the non-news that had filled his digital in-box. He sighed. Stretched. Looked at Nina from the corner of his eye.
She must have sensed something, because she glanced up sharply. “You’re staring. Are you going to tell me you want to draw me like one of your French girls?”
Ewan didn’t get the reference, but he more than understood the meaning. “Would you like that?”
“Depends on how good you are at drawing. If I’m going to get naked, I want it to be worth my while.”
“I’ve never had any complaints,” Ewan shot back, rising to the undercurrent of flirtation in her voice.
“I’m sure you haven’t.” Nina’s mouth quirked.
Women came on to Ewan all the time, but this felt like more slap than tickle. He gestured. “What are you reading?”
“A book.”
He almost laughed at that before nipping back the guffaw. “I don’t read much fiction.”
“That’s too bad. It’s almost the most fun hobby I have.” Her gaze held his, lingering and somehow assessing in a way that felt like a challenge.
“You have one that’s more fun?”
Nina smiled and shook her head, but said nothing. She looked back to her tablet in a blatant dismissal. He studied her for a moment or so after that, marveling at her moxie. “Do you flirt with all your clients?”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
Ewan nodded. Nina smiled, but said nothing else. He couldn’t be sure if he admired or detested her—all Ewan knew was that she was unlike any woman he’d ever met.
“You don’t worry about much, do you?” he asked.
Without looking up, Nina murmured, “No. Not really.”
Her calm was deceptive. She’d been sitting with her feet curled beneath her for the past half an hour or so, seemingly deep in concentration, but that hadn’t fooled him. Yesterday she’d gone from that same seated position to all the way across the room to put Sanford the gardener in a headlock before Ewan had even looked up from his monitor. Sanford had entered the library without knocking. It was probably the last time he’d ever do that.
Ewan didn’t want to have to startle her to get her attention. The fact he even had to grasp for it set him back a step, mentally. Models, actresses, trust-fund babies, all had thrown themselves at him, but this woman was constantly crooking a finger and then putting up a hand to stop him.
“Nina.”
She smiled before she looked up, then let her gaze find his, but slowly. “Yes, Mr. Donahue?”
“What are you reading?” The question, asked a second time, could not be misconstrued as anything but a near-direct order for an answer.
Her lips parted. The pink tip of her tongue dented the top one for a second before she visibly let her teeth close on the tip of it. She lifted her chin, gaze never wavering from his. “Wuthering Heights.”
He’d heard of it. “That’s really old, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Classic lit-ra-choor.” She tapped the tablet then held it up to show him the screen. The book cover showed an old-style Gothic mansion in the middle of a field.
“Never read it.”
“And here I thought you were the one who was better with his brain,” she said.
Ewan glanced at his laptop, where about seventy important messages were waiting to be addressed, none of which he felt like dealing with. Instead, he pushed his chair away from the desk. “What’s it about?”
“Loooove,” she said. “True, desperate, aching, passionate love. You know, that thing you say can’t last.”
“Does it last in the book?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No. They can’t manage to get themselves together well enough to figure out how to be with each other.”
“I could mention that proves my point,” Ewan said, “but that might sound arrogant.”
/>
Nina chuffed soft laughter. “We certainly wouldn’t want you to seem arrogant.”
“You like this book?” Ewan prompted.
“I’ve read this book about thirteen times. Yes. I like it.”
“What do you like about it?” he prompted, curious and determined to dig something out of her, even if he couldn’t understand why he wanted to. Why he cared.
Nina looked serious, glancing at the tablet. “I don’t know. It’s sad, I guess. They can’t manage to get it together, not even for lurrrrve. Tragic. Yet there’s a beauty in it, somehow.”
“Beauty in tragedy?”
“Yes,” Nina said.
Ewan shook his head. “There’s no such thing.”
Nina didn’t reply to that. She gaze held his for a few seconds before she smiled so broadly and so blandly that he knew without a doubt that she was placating him.
“Right,” she answered. “Of course not.”
Ewan put his feet down with a thump, looking at his computer. He should get back to his reports and business. He had a handful of project proposals to approve from the kids he was mentoring in his research and development lab. Instead, he said, “Maybe you could read it to me. Two birds, one stone, all of that. Since you’re hardly doing anything else.”
She winced and put a hand over her heart. “Sorry. Should I call up some thugs to break in and try to rough you up so I can take care of it, or . . . ?”
“Thanks, I’m good.”
She held up her personal comm, which she wore tucked into a spot on her ever-present harness. “You sure? I have connections. I just need to send a couple of messages. I can have someone here in an hour or so.”
Ewan snorted wry laughter. “I’m sure you do.”
“Just say the word,” Nina told him and settled back against the couch to focus on her tablet again. “Or, you could let me sit here and finish this book in peace, grateful that I have the time to do it.”
“Who’s supposed to be grateful? You or me?”
She looked at him over the top of the tablet, her sleek, arched eyebrows raised. “You, obviously. If I have to really get to work, that means you’re in trouble.”