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Then just as he’d given her his undiluted attention, he took it away, making her feel as if he’d taken the chair and the ground beneath it right out from under her.
Before she realized she had a response to his rebuttal, she found herself sitting up, her pose confrontational, her tone even more challenging. “Well, it’s all quite laudable, I’m sure, that—while not advancing basic science as only someone of your clout and resources can—you invest in advancing your field. But ‘this facility’ already has its own array of ‘commendable’ projects under way, and it would be a loss that can’t be measured in money if we shelved them to head in the direction where you point us. Just because you acquired our services doesn’t mean you can cancel all our efforts, or should dictate which breakthrough is worth benefiting from our expertise backed by your unlimited funds and clout.”
This time everyone in the room turned to stab her on the pointy edge of their disapproval. The canny man had already won them over to his side, promising them shiny new projects, not to mention endless means to frolic in the land of scientific possibilities to their hearts’ content.
This time, Balducci didn’t give her the courtesy of a response. His argument had been designed to win her over, or at least chastise her. From her renewed attack he must have decided further response wouldn’t make a difference. As the epitome of pragmatism someone of his success must be, he’d decided she wasn’t worth the extra effort. He wouldn’t waste more time on a dissenting cog now that he was certain he had the rest of the machine wagging its components awaiting his directives.
Turning his attention to the rest, he directed everyone to read the folder carefully. Everyone’s roles and projects for the next year were spelled out to the last detail. Tomorrow would be the first working day under the new management, and he would be available at the provided email or phone number for any questions, concerns or minor adjustments. Any major suggestions would be discussed in the next general meeting. He closed by thanking everyone in such a way as to have them swooning all over again before he dismissed the assembly.
Everyone rose to shuffle around him, waiting their turn to catch his eye or shake his hand. Lili cursed them for the limpets they’d turned into, and cursed him for turning them into such. Still, she was thankful for the milling crowd that gave her the cover under which to escape. Snatching her bag up, leaving the folder behind, she rose. Head down, giving him the widest berth she could, she made a beeline for the door. To her dismay, he was making short work of everyone, and those he’d dismissed were already squeezing out of the room, hindering her escape. She barely curbed the urge to push through them and forced herself to take her turn walking out. Still she bristled at the censure and pity in their oblique gazes, but mostly at his disconcerting vibe at her back.
In minutes, she burst out into LA’s summer afternoon. She usually hated the transition from the beloved seclusion of her lab and the building’s controlled climate to the hot, humid bustle of the sprawling city. But now she was relieved to be out of what had become a place she’d hate to set foot in again. The place that was now Antonio Balducci’s.
She’d reached her Mazda in the parking lot when she felt as if an arrow had lodged between her shoulder blades.
It was his voice. Calling her.
What the hell!
Though her hand froze in midair with the remote, her thoughts streaked ahead. Did she dread him so much, like a kid dreads the headmaster singling her out, that she was imagining it? Even if he had called her, he must be here only to get his car, too.
In the next millisecond her analytical mind negated that theory. Antonio Balducci wouldn’t use public parking. He wouldn’t have driven himself here in the first place. One of those people who followed in his wake like efficient phan
toms must be his chauffeur. He couldn’t have just stumbled on her. Which meant he must have pursued her specifically, and very quickly. Which made even less sense than any other theory.
As her mind burned rubber, his voice carried to her on the warm, moist breeze again, the very sound of forbearance.
“Dr. Accardi, I’d appreciate a word.”
She swung around, her face scrunching against the declining sun in a scowl. “What for?”
She groaned at how petulant and aggressive she sounded. But this guy tripped all her wires. Watching him approach her like a sleek panther sent them haywire. He was so big he made the parking lot claustrophobic, so unhurried he made her feel cornered, so unearthly gorgeous he made her every nerve ache.
When he stopped two feet away, he siphoned the air from the world. Harsh sunlight struck deepest blue and indigo off his raven hair—which she realized had a smattering of silver at the temples—and threw his every feature in sharp relief, intensifying his beauty. She was sure she looked horrible in such unforgiving lighting, but Dr. Paragon here? He was even more perfect at such total exposure.
As the word exposure dragged her mind places it didn’t want to go, she yanked it back and squinted way up at him even from her five-foot-eight height. She mentally kicked herself for not having her sunglasses as a barrier to hide behind, as protection against his all-seeing gaze. But since she always went home long after sundown, frequently not at all, she rarely packed them. As if they would have been an extra burden in her mobile home of a tote bag. But that was what she was—always ready for all possibilities in her work, and the personification of unpreparedness in her personal life. Which she now was in such a close encounter with the monolith before her.
Just as she thought he’d stare down at her until he melted her at his feet, he raised his hand, making her notice the folder he’d been holding all the time.
“I brought you this,” he said. “You must have forgotten it.”
He followed her to give her the folder she’d left behind?
Her mind raced to decipher him and his actions as her senses crackled with his nearness. When she spoke, she sounded exasperated, even if she was more so with herself. “No, I haven’t forgotten it.”
“So you left it on purpose.”
“Apart from omission or commission, are there any other reasons I could have left it behind?”
One corner of his lips lifted in acknowledgment of her chastising logic, intensifying his already staggering effect. She hated to think how he’d look outright smiling or laughing.
“My apologies for the redundant comment. Will asking about the reason you did leave it meet with the same exasperation?”
She exhaled, trying to find the civil, easygoing person inside her who was generally in the driver’s seat...and failing. “From what I read about you, and from the evidence of your achievements and power, you possess an unchartable IQ. I’m sure you need none of it to work out the reason I did.”
“Indeed. Your motivation is quite clear. It was a material rejection to underscore your verbal one. I had just hoped it was a simple oversight on your part.”
“And since you now know it wasn’t, if this will be all...”
