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“Don’t be a wuss,” Ava scolded. “This place needs you here as CEO. You’re the new face of Maddox Hill. Hell, you’re the new face of architecture. Nobody else has what it takes to head up all those big carbon sink building projects you got going. You’re the one who won the Global Award for Sustainable Architecture, and the AIA COTE Award—”
“You don’t need to flog my résumé to me, Av. I know what’s on it.”
“And the Green Academy competition, and that’s just the eco stuff,” Ava persisted. “You’re, like, Mr. Cross-Laminated-Sustainable-Timber-Is-Our-Future. Maddox Hill can’t stay relevant without you. Everyone will line up to thank me eventually. You’ll see.”
It didn’t surprise him that she would think so. His sister had curly blond hair, huge cobalt blue eyes, a drop-dead figure, charisma to burn and a very, very high opinion of herself. She could bend people effortlessly to her will, especially men. He was the only one who could resist her. She was his little sister, after all.
The whole thing was still sinking in. How much he stood to lose today, in one fell swoop. Control of all his design projects, many of which had been years in the making. Most of all, he hated the thought of losing the Beyond Earth Project. He’d put that together with the collaboration of the robotics research arm of the Maddox Hill Foundation, opening up the field to young architects and engineers to problem-solve the obstacles to human habitation on the moon and Mars.
That project would have just rung all of their late father’s bells. Dad had been a dreamer.
“I’m not proposing that you charm Hendrick, or even Uncle Malcolm,” Ava said. “That’s a woman’s job. Your fiancée will do the heavy lifting. You just smile and nod.”
“What fiancée?” Drew asked, baffled. “I have to find a fiancée before dinner tonight? That’s setting the bar high, Av, even for a wild, carousing playboy like me.”
“No, big brother, the finding’s done for you already. It came to me like a beautiful brain-flash while Uncle Malcolm was ranting. We need to fight this false story, and I have the perfect counter-story. And she happens to be right nearby today, coincidentally!”
“What the hell are you talking about? Who’s here?”
“Your future bride,” Ava announced.
Drew was struck silent, appalled. “Av, you’re joking, right?”
“Nope! A temporary engagement, of course. Just a few months, to get you over the hump. You met her once, when you were on leave from Iraq, remember? You stopped to visit me at my dorm in Seattle. Remember Jenna, my roommate?”
“The little red-blonde with the glasses? The one who dumped a pitcher of sangria all over me?”
“That’s the girl. I was supposed to meet up with her for coffee before her Wexler presentation over at the Curtis Pavilion this afternoon, but Uncle Malcolm was in such a tizzy, I had to reschedule so I could calm him down. Not that it helped much.”
“What presentation?”
“Jenna’s a biomechanical engineer, and she started her own bionics company a few years ago. She designs prosthetic mechanical limbs. Brain activated, artificial nerves, sensory feedback. Real space-age stuff. I have been doing their PR, and she’s up for the Wexler Prize for Excellence in Biomedical Engineering. She gave her introductory presentation to the committee today. Her mission is to make affordable, high-functioning mechanical arms available to everyone who needs one. She’s brilliant, she’s focused, she cares...in short, she’s perfect.”
“But why?” He shook his head, baffled. “Why would she do this for me? And why would anyone buy it? And what the hell is the point?”
“They will buy it, and they will love it,” Ava said. “Underestimate me at your peril, bro. I am a genius.”
“I don’t want to tell a pack of lies,” Drew said. “It makes me tense.”
“You have to fight fire with fire,” Ava told him sternly. “You’d rather just give in and torpedo Uncle Malcolm’s company rather than try something bold and risky? Someone is pushing a fake story about you. That you’re a spoiled, entitled asshat who uses and discards vulnerable young women. Ouch. My story is much better. Handsome bad boy, redeemed by love, his social conscience shocked to life—”
“I have a social conscience already,” he growled. “I’m not a complete tool.”
“Shh, I’m just brainstorming. The cynical rogue with the secret hunger in his heart who falls for the smart girl in glasses. Humbled by the power of love. Oh, yeah.”
“Secret hunger in my heart?” Drew tilted an eyebrow. “Really, Av?”
“Just roll with it, bro. This woman is making artificial arms for people so they can hug their kids again. See where I’m going? Pathos. Warmth. Connection. We all crave it.”
“I get it just fine, and you’re still nuts,” Drew said.
Ava picked her tablet up from the table and tapped the screen a few times, passing it to Drew. “This is Jenna. I had my assistant go over to the Curtis to record her presentation to the Wexler Prize committee, and he already sent me the video. Take a look.”
In the video, a young woman was spotlighted on the circular stage at the Curtis Pavilion, one of the newest high-profile Seattle skyscrapers that Drew had designed. She wore a microphone headset. A sleek fitted short gray dress. She had nice legs. Her strawberry blond ringlets were twisted up into an explosive messy bun, ringlets sproinging out in every direction. She still wore glasses, but now they were cat-eye style, the frames a bright neon green.
Drew held up the tablet. The camera zoomed in on her face. The pointed chin, the tilted hazel eyes. A sprinkle of freckles. Her mouth was full, with a sexy dip in the pillowy softness of her lower lip. Painted hot, glossy red. He tapped the tablet for the sound.
“...new nerve connections, opening the doorways to actual sensations,” she was saying, in a low, musical voice. “Holding a paintbrush. Braiding a child’s hair. Dribbling a basketball. We take these things for granted, and don’t see them for the daily miracles that they are. I want these daily miracles in arm’s reach for everyone. Thank you.”
