Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
K athleen closed the door behind her and leaned against it, eyes shut, heart thudding. Her hand hovered on the lock a moment before she twisted it into place. The deadbolt clicked into position with a sharp snap that made her flinch.
She stood there for a long time, still in her heels, unsure what to do with herself.
The silence was suffocating. Her breath was too loud, her face was burning, her chest tight.
She felt totally mortified. She'd barely looked at Veronica when she got out of the cab. Hadn’t even said goodbye properly.
Only a muttered “thank you” and then she’d fled.
Fled.
Kathleen pressed her knuckles to her lips as the shame came in waves.
Veronica had been nothing but kind and thoughtful.
And Kathleen had acted like... like some socially stunted recluse, which, she supposed, wasn’t far from the truth.
She hadn’t known what to do with Veronica’s warmth.
With her quiet attention and the way that she looked after her.
Kathleen kicked off her heels too hard, and heard one thud into the wall. She didn’t go to pick it up, simply walked numbly into the kitchen, and filled a glass with water.
She felt ridiculous.
She’d rehearsed the night in her head so many times—what she’d say, how she’d sit, when she’d laugh. None of it had mattered when Veronica looked at her. When she really looked at her. Not like a scientist. Not like a curiosity, but like a person.
No one had done that in a long time.
Kathleen sat on the edge of the couch and took a sip of water, her hands cradling the glass as an anchor. The city lights flickered against the windows, blurred slightly through the sting of tears.
What was wrong with her?
She should have gone with Veronica to have that cup of coffee. But she hadn’t, and she should have invited her to stay for tea, or sit a while, not to leave so soon. The words had caught in her throat, strangled by old fears she didn’t know how to turn off.
She hadn’t meant to shut Veronica out, she simply didn’t know how to let her in.
Kathleen stared out the window at the sprawl of New York, feeling an idiot and full of things she didn’t have the language for.
Veronica had been so composed, so confident, but not arrogant.
She hadn’t made her feel stupid once. She’d protected her from the people at the table, not because she was paid to, but because it seemed to matter to her that Kathleen was comfortable.
No one had ever done that before.
Kathleen curled her legs up beneath her, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes until stars danced behind her lids. She had ruined it, and she didn’t even know what it was.
Veronica had been a companion for the night. A temporary arrangement.
But somewhere between the foyer of the gala and the last flash of Veronica’s eyes across the candlelit table, Kathleen had started wanting something she didn’t have words for. Not exactly romance, a connection. That rare, precious feeling of not being alone.
And now she’d gone and shut the door on it.
She turned her head into the couch cushion and let a soft sound escape her throat, a half sigh, half sob. Not loud. She wouldn’t give herself that, but it was there to be screamed out.
She didn’t cry often. There was rarely time. Tonight, the tears came like visitors she hadn’t invited but couldn’t turn away. Not grief or heartbreak, only the aching sense that she’d touched something gentle, something good, and pushed it away out of fear.
After a long time, she stood and moved to her bedroom, stripped off her dress and carefully hung it over the chair. She brushed her hair in the mirror and saw the faint smudge of mascara under her lashes, the pink flush in her cheeks.
She climbed into bed and lay on her side, facing the window. She stared out at the dark shape of the skyline, her fingers clutching the sheet.
T en days later, Kathleen stood in the lab, her hands deep in nutrient gel, her mind far away.
The plants in Tank Two had responded well to the adjusted conductivity levels—better than she’d predicted. Their leaves gleamed under the spectrum of light, veined silver like delicate circuitry. A small miracle, a breakthrough even.
Kathleen couldn’t feel excited about it.
She adjusted the filter settings with the tip of her stylus, watching the nutrient solution swirl, and caught herself thinking —not of the cell structure, not of the scaled implementation protocols—but of Veronica Hale.
Her smile.
The way it bloomed slow and sure, like a secret that only you got to share. The way she’d spoken so warmly, so calm and certain that Kathleen had found herself leaning in without even realizing it.
Her body, too. There was no point denying it anymore.
Veronica had curves that made her ache in ways she didn’t know how to name.
It wasn’t lust—not exactly. It was something quieter, deeper.
A fascination. A pull. The way she moved, the way her blouse had draped across her collarbones, the warm weight of her presence when she’d stepped slightly in front of Kathleen to deflect that donor’s question.
You set the pace , she’d said.
And Kathleen had. Straight into a wall.
She sighed and moved to the sink, rinsing her gloves in silence. Ted was off today, which was both a blessing and a curse. No one to ask questions or interrupt or distract her.
She had barely slept the past few nights. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Veronica sitting beside her at the gala table, leaning in with that quiet way, listening like no one else ever had.
Kathleen turned off the tap and dried her hands mechanically. Her eyes drifted toward her office door, the one space in the building that didn’t smell like bio-nutrients. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, suddenly tired of pretending she was getting anything useful done.
She stood there for a long moment, staring at her desk, where the three profile cards still sat in the drawer. She hadn’t thrown them away. She hadn’t wanted to. Veronica’s picture was still on top.
She pulled it out and looked at it. That same poised face. That self-assured gaze. That same flicker of warmth behind the polish.
Kathleen’s thumb brushed lightly over the edge of the card.
She didn’t want to go to another event. She didn’t need a buffer or an excuse this time, but she wanted to see her again.
She wanted... to try once more without a ballroom, or speeches, or donors and board members, and eyes she didn’t trust.
Just dinner.
Somewhere quiet where she could hear her voice and not the clatter of plates and chatter of people who didn’t really see her.
Kathleen sat down, her hands feeling suddenly clumsy as she reached for her phone. She stared at the agency’s contact number for a long time before she tapped it.
The line rang once.
Then again.
Then—click.
“Elise Berry. How may I help you?”
Kathleen cleared her throat. “Hello. This is Dr. Kathleen Knowles. I—I was wondering if I might—um—book an escort for a night for dinner,” she added hastily.
Elise’s voice came through low and refined. “That could be arranged, Doctor.”
“Um—please call me Kathleen.”
“I’d be happy to, Kathleen. Would you prefer one of the other ladies.”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “I only want Veronica if she is available.”
“Hold a moment while I check her appointment list.”
Kathleen’s heart sank. She should have known Veronica would be popular. She’ll probably have to wait in line for God knows how long. At that thought, she felt a twinge of something she’d couldn’t quite put her finger on. Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant.
Elise came back on the phone and asked, “Do you have a date in mind?”
Kathleen replied hopefully, “Tomorrow night. If she’s available.”
“She is. Same pick-up arrangements?”
“No. I’ll meet her at the restaurant.”
“Very good. We’ll send you a confirmation text once it’s set.”
“Thank you,” Kathleen said in a low voice, then added after a beat too long, “She was... very kind to me the other night.”
There was a slight warmth in Elise’s voice now. “She has that effect on people. Do you have a restaurant in mind?”
“Um, I want somewhere quiet. Do you have any suggestions.”
“Marinos is said to have a good menu and it has quiet booths. Shall I book you one for say, seven o’clock. Would that be acceptable?”
“It sounds fine,” said Kathleen with relief.
“Very good,” said Elise softly.
When the line went dead, Kathleen set the phone down slowly, heart fluttering against her ribs.
It wasn’t a big deal. Only dinner.
Another transaction, except it didn’t feel like one.
She turned the card face-down and rested her palms flat on the desk, trying to still the quiet tremor in her breath.
She didn’t know what she wanted from the evening, but she knew what she did want deep down.
She wanted Veronica to notice her.
What to wear was the problem. She’d worn her only decent evening wear dress to the gala, and she wanted to look nice.
Tomorrow, as soon as Ted turned up, she’d do some shopping.
Tonight, she’d ask her mother to take her to some of those boutiques she loved.
Her mother would jump at the chance; she constantly nagged her to upgrade her wardrobe and she loved shopping.
In the meantime, she’d plan what she was going to say.
She would show Veronica she wasn’t a total loser when it came to socializing.