22. DEN Illuminati HQ
22
DEN = Illuminati HQ
From Barry Wright’s manifesto:
Under the Denver International Airport are miles of tunnels and lairs, which serve as the headquarters of the Illuminati.
TESSA
“ T hat’s great news.” I grinned at Sadie. “We should start on it right away. Oliver,” I called down the row to where he was talking with Yujun, past the sign that read, 38 days.
Oliver looked up and flashed me the kind of smile that made my knees wobble. The kind that made me want to take back what I’d said Monday in the supply closet, about everything being out of our systems. The kind that made me want to push him back in there and try again. I had to tell him to stop looking at me like that because surely someone would notice that wolfish grin and wonder if something was going on.
Nothing was going on.
Or so I kept telling myself.
He sauntered closer to us. “What do you need, Tessa?”
The way he’d phrased it was pure evil. My cheeks burned. I sucked in cool air through my nostrils, but that only brought his evergreen scent into my nose, sharp and comforting as a fresh-cut Christmas tree. “Sadie and the team think they have a hypothesis for the endometriosis test.” I nodded at her.
While Sadie told Oliver how the team had collaborated to develop a hypothesis based on the research they’d done and then successfully tested it in the computer model, I tried to breathe through my mouth without looking like a fool.
Fortunately, Oliver’s expression turned serious as he nodded in response to Sadie’s update. “That’s fantastic. We’ll queue it up for clinical trials after the cancer test.”
“What? We shouldn’t wait on this,” I protested. “We should get it into trials as soon as possible.”
“That’s what I said.” Oliver leaned against the desk. “Right after the cancer test trials.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of running jobs in parallel?” I said. “We should do them both at the same time.”
He rubbed his forehead. “No, Tessa, we…” He looked up. “We shouldn’t argue about this here. Come to my office?”
His question rose only slightly at the end, making it sound more like an order than a request. But he was right. We should present a united front to the team when we told them we’d be running the tests simultaneously since it would be extra work for them.
“Okay. Sadie, please draw up the plan for the trial and get the rest of the team to review it.” I stared at Oliver's stony face, daring him to contradict my request. He said nothing as he whirled and marched toward the exit.
I followed him down the hall to his office. He ushered me in and shut the door.
I glanced at his desk. His very clean desk, where I could easily sprawl while he ate me out again…
No. It was gross to hook up in my colleague’s office during work hours. Un-fucking-fortunately. I shook the image out of my brain. Despite his fuck-me expression earlier, Oliver wasn’t the type. Neither, I reminded myself, was I.
He seated himself behind his desk, so I perched demurely on his guest chair and took the offensive. Professionally.
“Simultaneous trials are the way to go. So if one fails, we have another product to take to market.” After I’d gotten Sadie’s email that she had good news to share this morning, I’d spent most of the night planning how I’d state my case. Hell, I’d been planning it since the team and I came up with the idea for the test. Hope wasn’t scientific, but it had served me well as I’d started Red Rover. I’d decided the best way to get what I wanted was to appeal to Oliver’s risk aversion.
He shook his head, and a lock of hair flopped onto the left lens of his glasses. He didn’t bother to brush it away. “Simultaneous trials will put an undue amount of strain on the lab’s resources. We must consider our employees when we make these decisions. Our priority is the cancer test since that’s what our marketing department has been preparing for.”
His arguments were all solid. But waiting months for the cancer test to be done meant thousands of women with endometriosis would suffer because of our delay. “It’s a risk we can manage. We’ll offer the team an additional week of vacation after this push. Cater dinner and provide transportation for anyone who has to work late. Nothing great is produced without risk.”
“Nothing great, huh?”
“I read it on a motivational poster,” I mumbled.
“But do you believe it?” He finally flicked the errant lock of hair out of his eyes, and he hit me with a calculating stare, one I remembered from game night at Carly’s. Was Oliver Bond about to take a risk at work?
I lifted my chin. “Sure, I do. I invested all my college savings into Red Rover and took out a loan to pay my tuition.”
He nodded. “Then I’d like to offer an exchange of risks. I’ll agree to take both tests to clinical trials?—”
“Simultaneously?” I interrupted him.
“Yes, assuming they’re both ready. In exchange, I want you to give me a chance.”
“A chance?” I thought I knew what he was asking, but I wanted him to say it.
“Give us a chance.”
“You want sex in exchange for crashing the schedule.” It wouldn’t be the first time a man had offered to fast-track something for my business in exchange for sexual favors. But Oliver didn’t seem slimy like that.
“No. No!” He leaned forward over his desk. “Give me a chance to woo you.”
“Woo me? Are you secretly ninety inside that hot body?”
“I’m being serious. I want a shot.” He swallowed, and I watched the bob of his throat. I wanted to lick it. “Sex is off the table.”
“Off the table?” I repeated. “Then what’s the point?”
“The point is for us to explore emotional intimacy. Like when you told me about Harry.”
I’d told him about Harry right before he’d gone down on me. This was the most bizarre power exchange I’d ever negotiated. “So what will giving you this shot you want entail?”
He thought for a moment. “Dinner. We both have to eat.”
“I avoid restaurants. People still recognize me sometimes.” I flicked my red hair, which I’d refused to change despite the negative attention it brought me. “Some of them aren’t too nice. You don’t want that kind of attention. Not when this product launch is so critical.”
“We’ll have dinner at my place,” he said. “Low-key.”
“Like a Netflix-and-chill situation?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Sure. But no sex.”
“I still don’t get it. Is this some kind of bizarre millennial dating ritual?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re a millennial too.” He crossed his arms.
“I’m right on the dividing line with Gen X. I play both sides. But I still don’t get it.”
“I want to get to know you. Let you get to know me. Figure out if there’s a spark.”
“I think we both know there’s a spark after the supply closet.”
“Something sustainable,” he amended.
“Like, you want the whole damn forest fire.”
“I do.”
Unfortunately, I knew how forest fires went. Harry had torched my personal and professional lives and left nothing alive, not even a seedling. My heart was scorched and barren, unable to support the spark Oliver wanted. He’d see.
“Fine. Dinner is your shot. Regardless of how it goes, we run both trials as soon as they’re ready. No delays.”
“Agreed.” He stuck out his hand.
His hand was dry and warm when I shook it. His long fingers brushed the inside of my wrist. A shiver traveled from my hand all the way to my blackened heart, which gave a throb.
Nope, that wasn’t a spark. That was me being touch-starved. When I got home, I’d ask Savannah to give me a hug. I’d snuggle with my cats. Then I’d be fortified for the next time he caressed my skin in a not-at-all sexual way.
“Deal,” I said.