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She huffed, focusing back on her screen. "Charm doesn’t balance the books." But beneath the surface, a tiny fissure of doubt cracked through her resolve. Maybe her brother could lighten her load...No. She dismissed the thought as quickly as it appeared. He'd handled his part. She'd handle hers.
"All righty then." Troy stood, collecting his jacket. "I'm off to find some afternoon delight with my girl."
"You do you, bro."
"Nah, I'll do Maya instead."
Tanya watched the door close behind him, her chest tight with a cocktail of affection and exasperation. Troy, the master of schmooze—the yin to her yang of meticulous control. She shook her head, refocusing on the task at hand. There was work to be done while her brother did his girlfriend.
Maya was a brilliant scientist. Her brainiac ways were the perfect balm to her smooth-talking brother. Maybe Tanya needed to date a nerd? But she doubted a man in a lab could give her what she needed.
Though there was one man in a lab who had the very thing she needed to succeed this season. She needed to check on his progress. If the nerd she had trapped in a lab downstairs could make the perfect vibrator, then she could pull off the biggest sales quarter that the company had ever seen—and in her first year, too.
CHAPTER2
VIGO
Vigo Ricci stood in the heart of his kingdom, a lab where passion and precision mingled in the air as palpably as the scent of antiseptic. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair, which lay impeccably combed atop his head. The order of his locks was in contrast to the chaos of wires and silicone prototypes that surrounded him. Perched on the bridge of his nose were glasses that caught every flicker of light, betraying the fervor of his hawkish gaze. He was an engineer, yes, but also a sculptor of pleasure, tasked with crafting the next wave of ecstasy for the eager clientele of Kringle Knotty or Nice Intimates.
His eyes darted between spreadsheets littered with numerical foreplay—a symphony of potential satisfaction measured in RPMs and decibels. Each figure was a note. He, the maestro, was obsessed with composing the quintessential climax.
Vigo tapped a finger against his clipboard as he studied his latest creation. The design was sleek and pleasing to the eye. The gears inside were powerful and efficient. He wasn't happy about the buzz the motor gave off but reasoned that it should add to a woman's pleasure.
"Data doesn't lie; it teases out the truth," he said to no one in particular, jotting down another set of figures. The prototype before him was his latest challenge, and Vigo was hell-bent on ensuring it would deliver. To create something that could speak the language of desire without words was his singular goal, and he wouldn’t rest until every variable had been accounted for.
It was a magnificent piece of tech. Unfortunately, he couldn't be the judge of that. What with having a prostate and all. The approval he needed had to come down from the top. But before he could get to the top, he needed a toy reviewer to test out his creation.
The notion of having a middleman—or rather a middle woman—bugged the hell out of him. The added step was inefficient and would add on time between phases. He was ready to be out of the testing phase and get his prototype mass-produced.
With each test, he observed and recorded, searching for patterns in the cacophony of ones and zeroes. Every orgasm charted was a precious data point, leading him closer to perfection. People often underestimated the complexity of his work. They didn’t understand that beyond the silicone and circuits, there was an artistry involved—a delicate balance between the mechanical and the carnal.
"Temperature variances," Vigo muttered, eyes darting between two color-coded line graphs. He tapped the pen against his chin—a metronome marking the rhythm of his thoughts. "Must optimize for consistency..."
He leaned over his desk to scrawl some notes. The machinery hummed. The scent of lubricant and new plastic mingled with the sterility of the room. His desk was an organized sprawl of charts and graphs, flowing over his workspace like a paper river. Each sheet was a testament to his relentless pursuit of perfection.
"Is that thing ready yet, or are you just going to romance it with your monologues all day?"
Vigo's gaze lifted, taking in the form of symmetry in motion. Tanya Kringle strode in, her presence as sharp as the cut of her tailored suit. Her features were an architect's dream: proportionate, structured, each angle catching the light in a way that was both aesthetically pleasing and mathematically sound. To him, she was Fibonacci's sequence personified, each spiral of her wavy brown hair another golden ratio.
"Romance isn't quantifiable," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "But if it were, I assure you, this prototype would be Casanova."
"Charm will get you nowhere with me, Ricci." Yet her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. "I need results. Not sweet nothings whispered to circuit boards."
"Results are precisely what I'm cultivating. Satisfaction is an art, albeit one rooted in science."
"Then paint me a picture, Vigo," Tanya challenged, arms crossed over her chest. "When can we expect this masterpiece of yours to be gallery-ready?"
Vigo's fingers hovered above the sleek surface of the prototype, a quiver of anticipation palpable in the sterile air of the lab. "It's ready," he declared, not without a hint of pride edging his voice. "But I need someone to test it."
Tanya's lips pursed, the action as symmetrical and deliberate as any equation he'd ever solved. The sight transfixed him. The precision of her movements was like a siren's call to his data-driven heart.
"We're still interviewing for toy reviewers."
That surprised Vigo. What woman wouldn't want the job of testing out sex toys for eight hours a day? "It'll be ready once they're hired."
"Onboarding will take at least a week," Tanya was saying as though she hadn't heard him.
Vigo would swear he saw the wheels turning in her head. He bet it was an orderly brain. A clockwork of efficiency, just like the woman. Whenever he sent her a request for supplies, it was handled immediately and precisely. The three weeks he'd been working here, he'd wanted for nothing. Except a toy reviewer.
