Chapter 1 #2
Derek had seen past her awkward silences, her tendency to stare at a point somewhere over people’s shoulders instead of making eye contact, her complete inability to engage in small talk. He’d seen what she could do.
“I spoke to Professor Rhineland about you,” he’d said during their video interview, studying her thoughtfully. “He says you’re brilliant. Creative. Someone who doesn’t play by the rules.”
The professor had been her mentor since the first day she’d arrived on campus, a formidable elderly man with a shock of white hair and a penchant for bowties who’d taken one look at her and announced, “You’re not like the others. Good.”
“He also mentioned your aversion to people,” Derek added, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not averse to people,” she’d mumbled, staring at a framed map of Monster Island on the wall behind him. “I’m just… better with machines.”
He gave a half-shrug. “Not a problem. The position I have in mind doesn’t require much interaction. What it does require is the absolute best.”
He paused, letting the compliment wash over her. “Our current systems are… adequate. But adequate isn’t enough. TalkToMe handles sensitive communications for some very important clients, human, monster, and otherwise. We need to be impenetrable. I need someone who can build us a fortress.”
A fortress. The term resonated with the little girl who tried so many times to build forts from worn sheets or flat cushions, a fragile protection against a harsh world.
“I can do that,” she said.
A week later, she was on the ferry to Monster Island.
That had been three weeks ago. Three weeks of proving herself, of building something that could actually protect the company’s users—monsters and humans alike—from increasingly sophisticated cyber threats. Three weeks of hiding in her office and avoiding the social events the company sponsored.
Baby steps, she reminded herself again. Rome wasn’t built in a—
The thought evaporated as she rounded a corner and walked directly into a wall.
Except walls didn’t grunt on impact.
Walls didn’t have arms that shot out to catch her as she stumbled backwards.
“Whoa. Easy there.”
The voice was deep. Commanding. The kind of voice that expected to be obeyed.
Her hands had somehow ended up braced against a chest that felt like it had been carved from granite. Warm granite. Breathing granite. She blinked up—way up, God, how tall was this guy—and found herself staring into a pair of golden-brown eyes that suddenly flared bright gold.
Oh no.
She knew who he was. She’d seen him in the company directory, in a photo in Derek’s office, and in the absolutely absurd amount of research she’d done before accepting this job. Derek Moonstone might be the billionaire CEO of TalkToMe, but his brother Adrian was the Alpha of the Moonstone Pack.
And she was currently pawing at his pectorals like a cat kneading a blanket.
“Sorry!” She snatched her hands back so fast she nearly lost her balance again.
Those steadying hands tightened on her upper arms, and she became acutely aware of exactly how much bigger he was than her.
She was small—five-three on a good day, and her combat boots added maybe an inch—but Adrian Moonstone made her feel positively minuscule.
He had to be at least six-four, with shoulders that seemed to fill the entire hallway and arms that could probably bench press a Toyota.
“Are you all right?” His brow furrowed, dark hair falling across his forehead in a way that should have been messy but somehow looked artfully disheveled. Like he’d just rolled out of bed. Like someone had been running their fingers through it—
Stop. Stop it right now.
“I’m fine,” she squeaked. Her brain, usually a reliable and orderly place filled with algorithms and logic, had turned into a scrambled mess of static.
The only thought that managed to form with any clarity was he smells really, really good.
It was like the scent of the forest after a rainstorm, mixed with the rich, dark aroma of coffee and something warm and spicy that she couldn’t place but which made her want to burrow closer.
Which was insane. She didn’t burrow. She barely even hugged people.
His golden-brown eyes, which had returned to their normal shade, swept over her in a slow, deliberate assessment.
From her damp pink hair to the cartoon robot on her shirt, down her ripped jeans to the steel toes of her boots.
His gaze wasn’t lecherous, but it was… thorough, and an entirely unexpected wave of heat washed over her, starting low in her belly and spreading outward like ripples in a pond, making the air suddenly feel thick, charged with an electricity that crackled between them.
The hallway lights seemed to dim in comparison to the golden glow in his eyes, and for a disorienting moment, she forgot how to breathe.
She’d been stared at before but never like this.
Never with a gaze that seemed to see past the carefully constructed barriers to look directly at the woman underneath.
A woman who suddenly felt very, very exposed.