Chapter 24
NATE
“And you didn’t bother telling me this earlier!” Melanie screams into the phone.
After calling my lawyer to explain everything that went down at the conference and getting the best course of action to reclaim my work, I called Melanie.
Why, you ask?
At the time, it seemed like the most professional thing to do. Someone had to inform my Unofficial Official PR Agent that Carter motherfucking Crawford stole my work, again. Especially when it’s the slideshow I was supposed to present tomorrow.
No matter how this plays out, I come out looking like the bad guy.
For reasons beyond me, people worship the ground Carter walks on.
And even more so after the presentation of his so-called invention.
News outlets are reporting that major airlines are already pursuing him for the idea.
That SkyWay Airlines is so impressed that they might give him the deal on the spot.
I’d present the same thing out of spite, but realistically, it’ll make me look like I was the one to rip off his work—not the other way around. So until I can prove that his presentation is my intellectual property, nothing can be done.
Melanie’s voice filters back through the line, edged with that same screechy disbelief. “How come no one informed me about such a major event in your life?”
I ignore the statement. I didn’t call to rehash things with my cousin, who was twelve years old when this went down the first time.
“Melanie, I’m just looking for a solution. As it stands, I’ll be presenting the same thing tomorrow,” I say as calmly as I possibly can.
I’m met with a loud sigh as another voice booms from across the room.
“Can you believe it?” Vivienne yells into her phone. The stress and panic are visibly etched onto her face as she paces back and forth.
“Evelyn, don’t you dare call him a hot villain! You’re being too generous. And to answer your question, Sutton—no! I will not be delving into the events following your suitcase swap!”
Roommates. Got it.
I should probably tell Vivienne that airing my crisis to her cohabitants isn’t the greatest idea for security reasons, but I have a sister. I get it. These girls need to get it off their chests somehow.
“Nate. Did you hear what I said?” Melanie asks, her voice even more irritated than before.
“No.”
“I said we need to retaliate. Do him as dirty as he did us.”
“Absolutely not.”
A tinnitus-causing gasp forces me to pull the phone away from my ear.
“You’re telling me that your university ex-best friend tries to ruin your reputation by setting a spark off your plane, summons your fake fiancée’s ex-boyfriend to stir drama in the tabloids, prevents us from paying off bad press, then steals your presentation, and you’re not going to meet him at the same level he’s been playing at? ”
I get where she’s coming from—it’s all infuriating—but I refuse to stoop to his level.
“We can’t prove Carter’s involvement in any of those events. It could all be one big coincidence.”
Plus, blaming something of the sort on him doesn’t make sense to me in the first place.
The Carter I know comes from old money—he’s even got the third at the end of his name to prove it. His parents are so well off that they donated a multimillion-dollar state-of-the-art engineering facility to MIT.
What could he possibly gain from a stunt like this when he has the best connections at the tips of his fingers?
“You’re one stupid motherfucker, Nathanial William Archer,” Melanie retorts. “He’s behind it all. How can you not see it?”
Another name spewed that isn’t my own, but I let it pass. A full legal name in times of distress can be satisfying.
“The engineering speaks for itself, Melanie. Archer Aviation is good at what we do, and I believe we can put out something better in no time, if not tomorrow, then later—”
“I’m stopping you right there.” Melanie cuts me off with what I imagine is a talk-to-the-hand gesture. “There will be no aviation left for you to do if this situation isn’t fixed quickly.”
I let out a sigh of defeat, really feeling the weight of her words.
As much as I hate to admit it, she’s every bit right.
The bad press has calmed down a little over the past couple of weeks, but if I go up on that stage with nothing worthy to present, it’ll be like jumping off a cliff for Archer Aviation.
Kamal Jameel has made it clear he’s going to back out, and I can only assume the same inherently applies to Everett Staines.
Not that we’ve talked since the night of the spark incident.
“Look, once you get over your moral high ground, call me. I’m planning his downfall as we speak. Nobody treats my cousin like this. Hey Siri, play I Did Something Bad by Tay—”
“We’re not doing any of that, Melanie,” I say on a loud exhale, tired of this arguing.
“Ha! Well, have fun coming up with an entirely new idea if you’re not willing to do damage control.”
Melanie’s words settle, and the gears in my head start turning. A smile inches its way up my lips when the next best course of action becomes clear.
“You may have just solved our problem,” I admit, astonished that something good came out of this conversation.
“What are you talking about?” Confusion drips from her every word, before it catches up to her. “Nate, I was kidding. You can’t make an entirely new presentation in one night, and alone at that. All your engineers are asleep.”
“Watch me,” I say with a wicked smile.
Melanie is about to raise her voice again, but I hang up on her. She’s served her purpose. And one thing always stands: no one ever tells me what I can’t do. It’ll just make me want to do it a lot more.
I built Archer Aviation from the ground up—alone at the start, before expanding.
We hired more engineers and supporting staff, and built an incredible team as demand and funding grew.
No way am I going down without a fight. The work, sweat, and tears I’ve poured into this company to make my dreams come true won’t go to waste.
I look up in time to see Vivienne stop inches away from me with fury in her eyes.
“Give me a bat, and I’ll break his kneecaps.
Or get me access to a lab, and I’ll make a small explosive.
It’ll be just enough to send him to the hospital and make him regret his life choices. It’s up to you. Pick your poison.”
I want to laugh—I want to laugh so hard because something about furious Vivienne reminds me of the way she used to act when she hated me. Now that I’m on the opposing side, it’s apparent that she’s just deeply passionate about the people who wrong her or those she loves.
“There’s no need for either. I’m presenting something new tomorrow.”
“You have something else prepared?” She tilts her head to the side, perplexed.
I shake my head with a smile. “No. I’m coming up with a new idea.”
“What!” Vivienne’s arms go limp by her side. “You’re going to come up with an entirely new idea in the next twenty hours?”
“Precisely,” I confirm with a nod.
“And you really think you’ll succeed at it?” she asks, still in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar.
I shrug. “You never know unless you try.”
Vivienne goes quiet for a minute. “And you believe in yourself?”
“That’s the first step to achieving anything.”
Big brown eyes analyze mine, and I stand there with a smile, unaware of what’s going through her mind. It takes a while for her to speak again, but when she does, it’s from a deep, personal realization.
“I’ve gone the last year of my PhD believing I couldn’t get anything done.
I told myself every day that I wasn’t good enough—that I’d never get to my end goal.
You had an entire presentation stolen right from you, and you’re not crying or throwing a fit.
You’re telling yourself you can do it, and you genuinely believe it.
” Vivienne shakes her head in disbelief, eyes glassy until quiet tears spill down her face.
Without a thought, I step closer to her, wrap my arms around her, and press her head to my chest. My fingers instinctively thread through her hair, feeling the dampness seeping into my shirt.
“I’m so stupid,” Vivienne mumbles under her breath.
“That’s not true,” I argue.
“The first step to achieving anything is believing in yourself,” she says between sniffles. “And here I was, telling myself the opposite.”
“You can always change that, you know?”
Vivienne lifts her head, resting her chin on my sternum. “It’s just so hard sometimes. I tell myself I can do it, but when things keep not working, the doubt takes over. With zero results for so long, I start to anticipate it.”
I press my lips to her forehead, hoping it quiets her mind—erases every worry until nothing is left. Better yet, give them all to me so that I can deal with the pain myself.
“We all start somewhere. No one’s perfect, so don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We all try and fail, but the only thing that differentiates the ones who make it from the ones who don’t is whether you get back up again.”
Vivienne stills in my arms, and the shudders that once wracked through her body are gone. Before I know it, she’s pulling away from me, wiping the tears off her face and nodding in agreement.
“You’re right. I’m not stupid, and I’m not a bad chemist. Trying and failing hurts so damn bad, but I shouldn’t have let that mess with me.”
Her brown eyes lock onto mine, fierce with determination. Pride swells in my chest. It’s as if a fire has been lit inside her—burning so brightly that she’s already on the road to getting everything she wants.
“If you’re not going to sleep, then I’m not either. Do you need help with the new presentation? I can start reading academic aerospace engineering papers, or however it works in the engineering world.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. That’s my girl. Feisty. Strong. Knowing that if she sets her mind to something, she can accomplish it. I don’t need her help with anything, but if she transfers that mindset to her own work, there’s no doubt she’ll be on top of the world.
“Not needed.”
“Then I guess I’ll work on my stuff…and I’m stealing your clothes because I have nothing comfortable to wear.” Vivienne nods once before spinning on her heels and making a beeline for my suitcase.
Within minutes, she’s joined me at the rounded dining table, laser-focused on the paper she’s reading.
Hair in a messy bun. Oversized sweats and a sweater. A cup of coffee with one cream and one sugar as she stares at her laptop. This woman looks in her element, and for the following hours, we’re both fully engrossed in our work.
Night sky eventually turns to morning—oranges, pinks, and blues weaving across high-rise buildings—and Vivienne has fully passed out. Her arms folded over her open laptop and her head smack down in the middle of the keyboard.
I pick her up and tuck her into bed with a kiss on her forehead before getting back to work.
By the time she wakes up, mere hours before I’m supposed to talk on stage, I’ve completed the presentation and finalized all blueprints and simulations.
Whether what I’ve done is good enough is questionable at best, but I can’t dwell on any of that now.
A disheveled Vivienne lazily smiles at me as she gets out of bed. “I’m probably not one to talk, but you should probably clean yourself up before your presentation. The dark circles are dark circling.”
I crack a laugh, patting my lap for her to come over.
Despite her reluctance, she walks over in my direction and plops herself down in the seat next to mine. I roll my eyes as I latch onto the leg of the chair, dragging it over to me before picking her up and setting her down where I want her.
“We can’t do this!” Vivienne pushes against my chest in a futile attempt to create distance. “You need to focus on your presentation.”
“But I’m done.” I pout, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck. I take in the smell of her, reveling in the citrus scent of whatever products she uses.
“Really?” Vivienne pulls back in surprise, and I nod.
A proud smile makes its way on her face, one that I can’t stop myself from mirroring. And while I think that would earn me a kiss, she gets up from my lap before I have the chance to stop her.
“It doesn’t matter. You need to focus on perfecting this presentation. I can’t be a distraction.”
I lean back in the chair, one arm draped over the backrest as I look her up and down. “It’s hard staying focused whenever you’re around.”
Vivienne rolls her eyes, but I see the flush to her cheeks. “Stop flirting with me and get back to work.”
“There’s no work to be done. I told you this.” I motion for her to come over, but she doesn’t budge.
“I’m sorry!” she says with no remorse. “Guess you’ll have more time to get dressed! You can’t possibly disappoint the ladies in the crowd by looking like a fraction of your handsome self.”
A glance at my watch confirms she’s right. With only one hour before this presentation, there wasn’t much time to spare. Reluctantly, I rise from my seat, and with each step toward my suitcase, a heavier weight settles in my stomach.
A lot is riding on this talk—the future of this company, thousands of jobs, and the credibility of everyone who works for us.
I don’t want to let anyone down, but it’s only right to acknowledge that this could all go to shit. We’ve been there once, and it’s very probable that we’ll find ourselves there again.