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‘The car is here to take you to the airport, Miss Merchant.’
Genie nodded, then tagged on her thanks, but she didn’t stop her progress through the sub-basement room that had been her home for almost a decade.
For whatever small time remained, she let her gaze wander over the almost empty space. She’d had her computers placed in secure specialised storage until she was eventually settled. But the memories were still vivid. Some were agonising—like the weeks she’d been sure her very freedom was at stake—while others were exhilarating—like when she’d completed the first life-changing algorithm and test-driven it.
The remaining years had been sheer hard work, but it was work she’d relished with every fibre of her being because she’d believed every string of code would serve a greater good.
And she’d done it.
She had achieved one long-desired goal. She’d ticked items off her years-old to-do list.
The contract with Valente Ventures was done and dusted.
Silicon Valley and the world media had lauded her achievement with superlatives. She’d been welcome into the Ten-Digit Club with more offers than she could count. Several megalomaniacs had immediately attempted to hire her, just so they could harness her power.
She’d ignored them all.
Only to be stuck at the final hurdle. She’d allowed her assistant to keep the flight booking only because she hadn’t been able to wrestle her whirling thoughts long enough to formulate a new plan.
Her current situation had fully stymied her and forced her into suspended animation. She couldn’t make firm plans until she knew. And with each day she delayed finding out, the deeper she sank into inertia.
To say she was disappointed in herself was an understatement. Especially since within that understatement existed an electric current of trepidation, humming and buzzing its presence that wouldn’t leave her alone. Because if she did confirm what she suspected was happening, she’d have no choice but to act on the data. Specifically—
‘Miss Merchant, sorry to disturb you but there’s someone here to see you.’
She didn’t need to turn around toknow. It was almost laughable that it should happen like this. Just like last time.
Except this time, she was deep in her natural habitat. A place she deemed sacred. Her sanctuary. If only for a short while longer.
But Seve Valente’s air of entitlement was total. He strode into her tech lab as if he owned it. Because he did.
She watched him walk around, broad-shouldered and viscerally masculine, those piercing eyes stripping every corner, every socket and cubbyhole as if he had the rights to its secrets. Tohersecrets.
Part of her was thankful he’d never ventured down here when she was surrounded by her treasured possessions, devices that had saved her from a life of apathy and abject hopelessness.
He would’ve seen too much then.Stillsaw too much now.
Probably labelled her pathetic hermit, more attached to gadgets than to human beings, the way her father once scathingly did. All because she wouldn’t embrace financial success the way he thought she should.
Reminding herself that those times were behind her, that this connection with Seve Valente would also soon be behind her, she forced composure into her body and turned, attempted to stare him down.
Despite the complete lack of readiness for the atomic impact of him.
Despite wanting nothing more than the freedom to relive every single moment of their time in his penthouse.
A freedom she couldn’t afford.
‘You have no right to be here.’ She didn’t addnot yetbecause it was elementary. She’d signed the papers two weeks ago. His fourteen-day grace period ended at midday.
It was now eleven fifty-four.
But she suspected the remaining six minutes weren’t what was uppermost in his mind when his gaze scoured her from head to toe before returning to her face.
‘Oh, I have every right. As part of our contract, I now own this building. Which gives me the right to be inside it.’
Heat flooded her body. Was he playing with her by using those words?
‘But you don’t own everyoneinit. You don’t own me. You could’ve waited a few more minutes and I would’ve been gone. Why didn’t you?’
