Hostile Attractions

by Raleigh Davis

  “Why not cut out sooner then?”

  I shrug. “It’s hard to explain that place. It’s completely sealed off from everything. Nothing comes in, and you can’t go out. Soon enough, the unreality of it seems real.” I pick at the sheets. “Which isn’t an excuse.”

  “I’m not looking for an excuse. Just an explanation.”

  I blow out a long breath. I’m not sure I could explain it to myself. “Part of it was that I was supposed to be Minerva. I’d been her for years and she wasn’t bothered by any of it. At some point, I wasn’t bothered that much either. I was numb.”

  He watches me, no judgment but no acceptance in his gaze either. He’s simply listening.

  “The other thing is, I know Arne is awful, but he was my entire world, day in and day out. Pleasing him… It sounds sick, but eventually I craved his approval. I wasn’t getting any kind of comfort or even human contact anywhere else. So I lapped up what I got from him.”

  Elliot still says nothing. I can’t tell if he’s appalled or processing that or what.

  “But no excuses. Like I said.”

  Finally he moves, shifting so that he’s closer to me. “I just wanted to know.” He doesn’t say that it wasn’t my fault, that he understands, or anything else. I’m immensely grateful because all that would have felt patronizing. He’s always met me as an equal, even when he hated me.

  I love that he’s still doing it now.

  “Let’s not talk about him,” I say. “Let’s talk about you. What would you be doing if your brother hadn’t struck it rich? If you had to work as an ordinary lawyer?”

  Not that he could be ordinary ever.

  He puts a hand to his forehead, rubs. Like he’s thinking so hard about that he needs the extra push. “I really liked my legal history classes. Laying out the path of how we got from there to here, seeing how the pieces come together.”

  “What would you have done with that?”

  “Maybe been a professor.”

  Oh yes, I could see Professor Martell in his three-piece gray tweed suit, sternly lecturing young, impressionable law students about some fine point of the legal system. He’d command his classroom.

  “But then Logan got rich and needed a lawyer.” The story of the rise of Bastard Capital is a legend in the tech world. Five guys in a garage, working on a stock-price prediction program. It works so well they become overnight billionaires. And then, in a shocking twist, they delete the program and start a venture capital firm.

  Elliot wasn’t one of those five guys. He came in the day after, to help them work out all the legal issues. But they made him a full partner and gave him an equal share of their riches.

  It’s the kind of generous loyalty that shouldn’t exist. I certainly haven’t seen or experienced it.

  “I was doing contract and business law before that,” he says. “Legal history isn’t in high demand in the corporate world.”

  “That’s too bad.” I know all about dreams deferred.

  “What about you? If someone had managed to talk you out of this”—he clearly thinks he could have if he’d known me then—“what would you be doing?”

  “I have no idea. No, really. Back then I hadn’t even circled around what I wanted to do for a career, much less settled on it. There was something I loved about everything I studied—history, literature, sociology, even biology. There was too much to learn in all of it to settle on just one thing.”

  He cocks his head. “But you’re so focused.”

  “Now I am. Working at Corvus will focus you like a laser.” I shrug. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now what I wanted to be then.”

  “It does.” His voice is softly reassuring. “We both could have had entirely different lives if not for the sharp turns events took.”

  Lives that might have allowed us to be together, like normal people. “A fantasy life.”

  He nods. I suppose the magic of this night, warm and huddled with each other under the covers, is making him imagine the impossible.

  I shift, settle closer to him. I want to play along. “Where would we have met, in this fantasy time line?”

  “When I represented you pro bono for chaining yourself to a tree. Or a whale.”

  I duck my head, snicker into his throat. Because that would have been likely back then. Maybe not being handcuffed to a whale though.

  “The suit would have got me,” I say. “I’d have seen you somewhere in the City and had to find you. That suit would be my homing beacon.”

  I’d be walking somewhere, maybe in SoMa, and my head would be down to protect my neck from the wind. But there’d be a flash of gray, a beard, a stern mouth under that beard, and I’d be hooked. Kind of like I am now.

  “Where would we go for our first date?” he asks, assuming that this mythical suit snaring would happen.

  I have to think about it a minute. “Here. We’d come here and fuck like rabbits. And then you’d wake up early to get to your corporate job, and I’d sneer at you for being a square, but secretly I’d miss you all day.”

  He smiles like he loves that idea. “For our second date, I’d take you to Pacifica. There’s this restaurant right on the beach that I always wanted to go to. It looks almost like a lighthouse, with massive curving windows bowing out.”

  “Why haven’t you gone?” When I was Minerva, I couldn’t simply duck into any place that interested me, but he’s Elliot Martell. He can do whatever he wants.

  “I was never with someone when I passed it. It’s the kind of place that requires good company. Special company.”

  And he’d take me there on the second date. “Our third date would be… a movie.”

  “A movie?”

  “Yeah.” I don’t mention that I haven’t been to the movies in forever. I don’t want to ruin the fantasy. “Get popcorn, soda, and the big candy boxes.”

  “What movie?” He’s still not convinced.

  “You could pick. Something artsy or depressing at the Embarcadero theater.”

  That gets a small quirk of his mouth. He’s getting sold on the idea.

  “After the third date,” he says decisively, “we won’t go on any more. We’ll just be together. And do things together. You’ll move in about a month later, although I’ll ask you to after the second date.”

  Wow. I know it’s a fantasy, but the picture makes my throat clog. It sounds like… like falling in love. “I have a lease. I can’t just break it.”

  He makes a noise that says he can do whatever he wants. “When will we get married?”

  Marriage. The word catches me up short, seals the breath in my lungs. It’s not something I’ve thought about, at least not seriously. I was too young before I started at Corvus, and then once I was in, relationships weren’t even on my radar.

  Marriage. It’s what you do when you fall in love. I know that much. Maybe…

  I close my eyes. This is only a fantasy, but my reaction to that word is way too real.

  “If you don’t believe in it,” he says softly, “we can live in sin. I’m completely happy with that.”

  That’s also something you do when you fall in love; adjust your expectations to meet the other person’s.

  I’m not ready to answer the marriage question, not even in a made-up scenario. “What about kids?” I ask instead, which might be an even bigger minefield.

  He shifts, his expression clouding. “My dad wasn’t a great example. Logan’s wife is going to have a baby any day now, and he’s really excited and he’ll be a great dad… but I’d be worried. Hell, I’m only the uncle and I’m worried.”

  It’s so sweet it makes my teeth hurt. Along with my heart.

  “Uncles should be worried,” I say. “It’s a big deal.” He’s going to be the most concerned uncle ever. That’s one lucky kid.

  “One,” he says decisively. “One kid. And they’ll have cousins so they won’t be alone.”

  I can imagine a darling little girl or boy with Elliot’s seriousness and his range of f
rowns, each of them cuter than the next.

  My heart unclenches, opens. Yes, I could want that. If we weren’t imagining things that could never happen.

  “Where would we live,” I ask, “us two married people and our one kid?”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “San Diego. Well, a suburb of there.”

  “Some place close to the beach then?”

  I shake my head. I’m not that attached to the old neighborhood. “Where did you grow up?”

  “Suburb of LA.”

  Smog and freeways. My mouth curls at the thought. “What about the mountains?”

  Somewhere fresh and clean and cold and far away from anything we ever knew.

  “I like that idea,” he says. “Our kid would run around outside, collect pine cones, have squirrels for friends.”

  “We’d stay in the same house. We’d find the perfect place and just plant ourselves there.” I run my hand over his hair. “No chaos.”

  “A little chaos is okay.”

  “Just a smidge? For seasoning?”

  “Yeah.” His voice is thick with resignation. Like we’ve come to the end of this fantasy.

  I suppose we have, coming to the house in the mountains, happily married with an adorable kid. And a smidge of chaos.

  He lifts up on one elbow, his eyes dark. Hungry.

  Suddenly we’re both back in the very real present and the very real thing we have between us: limitless desire.

  “I’m ready,” I say to let him know he doesn’t have to hold back. Because there’s something urgent, fast, lurking in his gaze.

  He spins me around so that I’m on my hands and knees and he’s behind me, hard, massive. There’s a pause—the condom—and then his hands dig into my hips. Deep.

  At his first thrust, I understand why he’s holding so tightly—because he’s fucking me so hard I could slip out of his control. I push back, meeting his need, bracing myself against the mattress.

  My orgasm comes on stuttering and quick, waves cresting one right after the other inside me. He pumps harder, faster, grunting with every thrust.

  And then he slows, stiffens, coming with a long sigh. Like he’s finally found what he was so urgently seeking.

  We fall down together, him being considerate enough not to land on me. Not that I’d mind. And then we take another rest.

  We don’t talk about our fantasies anymore.

  This is what we have now, and it has to be enough. Because we’re not getting anything else.

  Chapter 25

  My phone rings at what-the-fuck thirty in the morning, jolting me out of a sound sleep. I’m going to ignore it since Emily is pressed close to me, warm and soft. I sigh, tuck my arm into her waist. Oh, and she’s still naked.

  I managed to lose my shirt at some point last night, but my pants are still on. Barely. My dick is hanging out of my boxers, and I’m already half-hard.

  Maybe I can wake Emily up with some kisses. And oral sex.

  The phone rings again.

  “You should get that,” Emily mumbles.

  “No.” I put my lips to the frontier between her ribs and stomach, reach out my tongue to taste her skin.

  “It could be important.” She makes an encouraging noise anyway. “Like the baby’s here.”

  I immediately sit up. “Shit. I forgot.”

  But when I grab the phone, the screen says it’s Finn.

  “Shouldn’t you be asleep like a normal human?” I snap as a greeting.

  “Uh, no.” Finn actually sounds put out. “I’ve been working on your shit, so I haven’t been keeping track of the time.”

  “Sorry.” I sit on the edge of the bed, then quickly tuck my cock away. “What’s happened?”

  “I got her. Got everything.”

  It takes me a moment, but then I make the connection. “You found her.”

  “Get down here to the secure facility and I’ll show you.”

  I want to look over my shoulder at Emily—I can feel her stare boring into my back—but I resist. She knows what we’re talking about; she has to. I’m not going to glance guiltily at her. We had a right to search out her real identity.

  I clear my throat. “Be there in a few.”

  “Sweet. See you then.”

  I put the phone down but don’t look at her. I can feel her attention on my back, like a living weight. “You’re coming too.”

  I don’t know why I’ve just decided that. Maybe… maybe because it’s past time for us to be working separately, closed off from each other. If we’re going to find a way forward—all of us, including her—she has to be included fully.

  Emily doesn’t say anything, just watches me as I call the head of the security detail, telling him where we’re going. And she keeps watching me as I change clothes.

  Finally, once I’m dressed and ready, she speaks. “I don’t think I should go.”

  “Why not? You must be sick of this place. And we’ll go straight from the car to our building. The guards will be there the entire time.”

  I suppose Fuchs might try to stage an accident on the freeway, but I’m willing to risk it.

  “That was Finn,” she says. It’s not a question, so I don’t respond. “He’s been going through my drive.”

  I find some of her clothes in a shopping bag—she could have put them in the drawers, I wouldn’t have minded—and toss them at her. “Yes. But you knew that. You sent him all that information on the panopticon and the back door to Corvus, remember?”

  “I sent it to Ramona.” A shiver goes through her. “Arne was so furious when they released that virus. There was nothing to salvage from the entire project.”

  “Wasn’t that the point? Isn’t that the point of everything you were doing, to leave nothing left to salvage for Corvus?”

  She hugs the clothes to her chest. “Yes.” Her chin lifts. “Yes. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

  We’re at the secure facility owned by Bastard Capital in less than twenty minutes. It’s mostly an open room with workstations throughout it. There’re a few private offices, but Finn never uses them. Tonight he’s at one of the workstations, Ramona at the one next to him.

  “Emily Dove,” Finn shouts across the room when we enter. I don’t think he’s seen that she’s by my side.

  Emily goes stiff. Ramona sees her, and she goes stiff too.

  “That’s my name,” Emily says slowly. “You weren’t just going through the hard drive.”

  Ramona says nothing, but all the blood drains from her face. It’s like watching her turn to marble.

  I had no idea she was here, but I should have guessed. Fuck, this just went from awkward to painful.

  Finn is on his feet, his fist planted on the desk. “What the fuck, man?” He gestures at Emily. “You cannot bring Minerva Dyne into this place.”

  “This is about her.” I take her arm, lead her forward. “So she should be here.” Emily doesn’t come with me easily, but she doesn’t fight.

  “It’s about her in the sense that she’s the one responsible for all this shit.” Ramona’s voice is as steely as her expression.

  I bring us a few feet away from Ramona and Finn, keeping the desk between us.

  “You saw what I brought out on that drive. What I sent to you a few weeks ago too. You think I’m lying?” Emily’s demeanor is cool, but her fingers are rubbing against her thigh.

  I want to take her hand, but that would be too much.

  “Great, you have evidence of what a terrible company Corvus is. But you helped do all those things.”

  “Which is how I was able to get all that evidence out. Only someone within the company, someone very high up, could have access to that.” Her voice hitches. “I know what I did there.”

  “What, you’re going to say sorry and that will make it all better?” Ramona sneers.

  “No.” Emily is getting calmer, steadier. Stonier. “I won’t apologize.”

  Ramona’s mouth falls open. “You put my brother in j
ail.”

  Shit. My entire body goes tense. This was a bad idea. I don’t know if I should hustle Emily out of here or not.

  “I did.” Her expression is a mask, but her pulse pounds at the base of her throat where only I can see. “Along with several hundred people at Corvus working on that project, with the help of a development company and the upper levels of the police department. I put your brother in jail. Along with over a thousand other people.”

  Ramona’s mouth quivers, like she wasn’t expecting that. “But you’re the one in front of me now.”

  “Yes. And I won’t shy away from your anger. But it took an entire system to put your brother away—attacking one person isn’t going to change any of it.”

  “It would make me feel better. A lot better.”

  I shift onto the balls of my feet, ready to come between them. Because Finn doesn’t look at all inclined to stop Ramona if she does leap over the table.

  Emily folds her hands, accepts Ramona’s words. “I had my mission. I’ve done what I can.”

  “Mission?” That catches Finn’s interest. “What mission?”

  Emily’s attention swings toward him. “I went undercover at Corvus five years ago, intending to gather evidence to expose their crimes.”

  It sounds so simple when she puts it like that, when it was anything but.

  Finn whistles. “That explains why it was so hard to find you. I thought maybe you were just covering up a criminal record or something with the fake name. I had to send someone to a library to look at some microfiche. Microfiche.” He holds up a photocopy. “You won an essay contest freshman year. They put your picture in the local paper. You managed to wipe it from the newspaper’s website, but you couldn’t get the physical copies.”

  He sets it on the desk. North Park News is the paper, and there’s a younger, eager version of Emily staring back from a grainy photo. I never would have guessed she and Minerva were the same person.

  North Park is in San Diego. The dates in the newspaper match up with the timeline she’s told me already.

  “Parents died when you were in high school—I found the obituary,” Finn says. “You went to Berkeley, dropped out early. You or someone else managed to wipe most of your records from the school computers, but I found an email chain between you and one of your professors on a siloed backup drive.”