“I’m well aware he took the company helicopter to Vancouver in the middle of the night. I came to talk to you.”
Her expression flickered for the first time, the drop cloth shimmering for the briefest moment. “To me?”
“Youarethe new director of Research and Development.”
“Ah.” The fake smile was glued back on her lips. “Shall we find some privacy, then?”
“Dr. Owens’ former office, if you’d be so kind.”
Reece barely caught her tiny flinch. “As you like,” she said, still pleasant. She turned and strode off to an elevator bank, high heels click-clicking across the floor.
Grayson looked at Reece and gestured toward her. “Go on, scoot.”
“Youscoot,” Reece muttered, and took a step after Whitman when Denton spoke.
“I was going to throw you out.” Reece turned to find Denton watching him, a lost look on his face. “Why would you stick up for me?”
Reece shrugged. “You were doing your job. Your company shouldn’t fire you for that, even if I think your job sucks.”
Denton stared at him until Reece squirmed.
“Best of luck with all your empath harassing,” he said, then scrambled to catch up with Whitman and Grayson.
Chapter Thirteen
...the “phantom pain” phenomenon empaths undergo in response to imagined and/or anticipated pain to others is thought to be neurological, but the potential for dangerous physical impact on the empath experiencing it should not be underestimated. It results in measurable disruption to the empath’s vital systems, and the impact on their other systems is not yet understood.
Recommend measures be taken to ensure exposure to these type of stimuli is limited.
—excerpt from an early study funded by the Empath Initiative
The Stone Solutions elevator was so shiny Reece could see his own reflection. This was not a good thing.
“Fancy building,” he said, trying to find somewhere else to look besides his image. His eyes landed on Grayson, who was also looking at Grayson in the mirrorlike elevator. That was probably a good view. Maybe there was something to his obsession with brushing hair. Or showering.
Whitman pressed the button for twenty-one. “We deserve to be well-funded.”
The elevator began to rise and Reece tried not to squirm. Between the drop cloth hiding Whitman’s emotions and Grayson’s absolute blankness, the atmosphere in the elevator was stiflingly emotionless, like breathing your own exhaled air under a blanket.
Grayson cleared his throat. “Convenient that SB 1437 will triple that funding.” Oh, look at that, he was paying attention to the conversation, not just admiring his own jawline.
“Hathaway’s bill funds Stone Solutions?” Reece asked.
“As a rider,” said Grayson.
Whitman smiled with no more depth than a drawing on a canvas. It gave Reece the creeps, the way her expressions were only on the surface without her real emotions obvious underneath. “It’s business. You understand.”
“I understand that the bill pays you and you pay him.” Reece pointed at Grayson. “So I understand that all of you are making money off of stomping us down.”
“He’s prickly for an empath,” Whitman said to Grayson.
“He’s not a lab specimen who can’t hear you,” Reece muttered.
She turned back to Reece. “You should consider me an ally.”
He furrowed his brow. It hadn’t been a lie. She must have truly believed that trash. “In what nightmare?”
“I find you fascinating,” she said. “You’re better off with me than those who find you frightening.”
