Chapter 3 Luminary #2
Orion halts tapping, turns his attention to Banner. “I thought we agreed I’d no longer participate in staff counseling.”
I slowly lower my hand. Banner shifts his feet. “Unfortunately, for the case to be officially resolved, HR and legal have mandated conflict resolution through mandatory counseling,” Banner says, his tone apologetic yet firm. “My hands are tied, Rye.”
A shadow falls across Orion’s features. “And Prescott.”
Banner straightens his posture. “Will be required to do the same to appease the board.”
The tension around Orion’s eyes softens when his gaze falls on me. Then that brilliant, charismatic smile unfurls. “And you’d be the therapist,” he states.
I lift my chin, wondering whether this defines us as friends, rivals, or conspirators. “I’m here to offer my services in any way you need, Dr. Night.”
A muscle tightens in his jaw, and some unspoken challenge glints in the depths of his eyes.
Rivals it is, then. At least, for now.
With sure movements, Orion tugs the cuff of his glove up and pushes away from the lectern. He steps directly up to me, his towering height forcing my head to tip back as he boldly steals the hand at my side, his palm sliding along mine with a claiming grasp.
“I’m sure we’ll figure that out, Collins.” He says my name slowly, as if tasting it, as two of his fingers rest along my inner wrist.
I sweeten my smile, trying to ignore the way the leather scent of his gloves speeds my pulse, the feel too cool against my skin. “I’m sure we will,” I concede, unable to curb the slight tremble in my voice. “But please refer to me as Dr. Holbrook.”
As I attempt to pull back, he tightens his hold, his long fingers sealing me within his grasp. For the briefest moment, I catch an unstable shift in his expression before his grin stretches. “We’ll work on that.”
He releases my hand and cuts a flinty look at Banner. “Just more bullshit bureaucracy to waste my time,” he says, and Banner visibly recoils. “Don’t worry, Leo. I’ll play nice for the donors.”
I curl my fingers into my palm, feeling the lingering press of leather. Like the predator he is, Orion’s gaze catches my action.
“Listen, Rye, none of us want this, you have to understand—” Banner breaks off to collect himself. “The incident left me little choice.”
Orion gives Banner the full weight of his icy stare. “Choice,” he says with a defiant edge. “That’s not a word you want to use with me.”
It’s more than a power dynamic at play here; it’s what I sensed when I first entered the university, that indefinable element that stings the air, the unknown entity that whispers through the dark corridors. It presses against me, rolling off Banner in waves.
Fear.
Like Stonehurst, Orion Night presents a breathtaking exterior, fascinating and beautiful. But it’s what lurks in the shadows within that’s to be feared. A terrifying and dangerous duplicity.
A lot of information is dropped during this short exchange, and I hang on to a couple key details. Banner’s nickname for Orion. The familiarity between them despite the obvious tension. And all the while, I watch Orion’s shifting expressions.
He’s as unstable as his experiments, and yet, there’s no other way for me to get close to him without taking a risk.
I need access to him.
“I’m excited to be here,” I say, jumping in to defuse the tension. “This is an amazing opportunity for me.”
“You’re interested in the study of space, is that right, Dr. Holbrook? That’s why you disrupted my lecture today.” Orion watches me with a scrutinizing calmness that chills my blood.
The tempo of my heart accelerates, and I refrain from touching the place where the muscle kicks my breastbone with palpable force, refusing to display the slightest hint of weakness.
Instead, I clasp one hand over the other and press my thumb to the pulse point of my wrist. “I’ve always found astronomy fascinating. But more so, I rarely have the opportunity to work with someone so gifted in their field,” I say, testing a stroke to his ego. “A true luminary.”
It’s almost unnoticeable, but I detect the slightest tic in his jaw, the dilation of his pupils. “Is that right.”
“Absolutely. But I apologize for disrupting your lecture.” I hold his gaze, not apologetic in the least as I lick my lips, the way he did when our eyes first met across this hall.
His mouth twitches at the corner, a secret between us already.
“It’s my method, referred to as Naturalistic Observation.
It gives me the opportunity to observe a person in their environment, whereas a therapy room could have influence on behavior. ”
“Observation is how we form theories,” Orion states.
“Precisely.” I smile.
Banner chuckles gratefully, and an indistinct grunt passes Orion’s lips. “And what is your theory of me, Dr. Holbrook?”
“That I need more observation.”
A true smile illuminates Orion’s face, and I feel it in the backs of my knees. “So you want to watch me…with some voyeuristic method.” There’s a hidden dare beneath his words, a challenge flickering behind the lustrous blue-green of his eyes.
I flip my hair off my shoulder, too aware of the firing pulse in my veins. “I don’t like to waste time, mine or anyone else’s. Naturalistic Observation is very efficient.”
At the mention of time, Orion checks his wristwatch.
He then reaches under his lectern and retrieves a black leather jacket and helmet.
After he slips the jacket on, he snaps the collar closed, his tongue resting in the corner of his mouth as he considers me.
“We’ll meet in your office once I’ve made time on my schedule. ”
I bite back my retort, carefully culling my options as my chest tightens. I can only garner what I need by observing him in his environment.
His habitat.
“Then it’s settled,” Banner says, offering me a strained smile before he steps in Orion’s direction. “You’ll give Dr. Holbrook what she needs.”
“And then some,” Orion states smugly, offensively, before he levels Banner with a fixed look. “So I’ll expect my terms to be met. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m late getting to my observatory.”
I pull the strap of my briefcase onto my shoulder. “I appreciate your cooperation, Dr. Night.”
Orion’s eyes clash with mine, a gravity there that threatens to pull me in as his gaze heats, staring at me with such intensity I forget how to breathe. Then he storms from the room, his helmet tucked beneath one arm.
A breath rushes past my lips, and Banner mistakes my reaction for one of relief.
“His observatory,” he mutters derisively. “I assure you, Dr. Night is brilliant despite his eccentricities. He won’t be as difficult with you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “If you’d like for me to believe that, then you won’t mind being completely transparent about my real purpose here, Dr. Banner.”
A tight frown brackets his mouth. “You have to understand, this is a delicate situation.”
Where money is concerned, it’s always delicate.
The “incident” transpired during an experimental test, when the observatory’s unpatented particle accelerator became unstable. Another astrophysicist, a Dr. Eugene Prescott, attempted to shut down the instrument, falling from the observation platform after a fight escalated between the two.
Dr. Prescott didn’t suffer any injuries, unless his wounded pride counts.
I should’ve been hired to help mediate, but navigating the legalities of the altercation wasn’t actually that difficult, seeing as HR closed the case last week.
Counseling was noted as a recommendation—not a mandatory requirement.
Proving there’s another agenda here.
Anxious, Banner runs a hand down his tie.
“Dr. Night is brilliant, there’s no question, and what he’s done for the university…
” He trails off with a defeated sigh. “Years spent working in solitude, under the extreme pressure from our field can strain the most brilliant mind.” He glances around before lowering his voice.
“I’ve known Dr. Night for his whole academic career,” he continues, a sadness filling his eyes.
“And in that time, he’s suffered a few setbacks.
I just think…I consider him my friend, Dr. Holbrook. ”
I nod, sympathetic. “Of course. You want to make sure he’s receiving the care you feel he needs.”
“Exactly.” His smile is thoughtful. “With the Solar Eclipse Observer Symposium less than three months away, everything needs to run smoothly. Our donors expect to see results from Orion’s research. And let’s just say, he has a history of being difficult where investors are concerned.”
And there’s the optics problem. Dr. Banner may care about his friend, may even want to genuinely help him, but he won’t allow Orion to jeopardize his institute’s funding.
“Let’s go ahead and get you settled, shall we?
” Banner offers. “I’d like for you to meet Dr. Prescott soon.
His research is also quite remarkable, and he has some fantastic marketing ideas for the symposium.
I think you’re going to be very pleased with what Stonehurst has to offer, Dr. Holbrook.
” He beams with pride, and a wariness slithers into the pit of my stomach.
Brows pinched, I study Banner’s guarded body language, his forced smile, and a hot blade of realization slashes through me. Banner may want to help his brightest star to continue to shine, but in the event that fails, he already has a replacement ready to step in.
With a beckoning sweep of his hand, he leads the way out of the lecture hall. I follow slowly behind, pausing in the corridor to watch my target escape in the opposite direction, his stunning silhouette slipping farther away until he’s swallowed by the shadows.
The desperate desire to chase after him thrums through my veins.
Like one of the brightest constellations in the sky, Orion is a shining star in his field. The one everyone orbits around, and where all the strings on my murder board connect.
The killer I’ve been searching for.
The hunter.
It’s taken months to locate him, and to even get this close, I’ve had to walk away from the safe and secure life I carefully constructed for myself.
I had to sever my connections to everything, everyone.
The law of proximity states that we’re more likely to develop relationships with people within our vicinity. We connect and form friendships with those physically closest to us—classmates, colleagues, co-workers. But simply being in Orion’s vicinity is not enough.
I need him to trust me completely. And there is no relationship that fosters more trust than one intimate in nature.
Yet that can’t happen if he’s removed from my reach.
I catch up to Banner, matching his brisk pace. “What terms has Dr. Night stipulated?” I ask, recalling their tense conversation.
“Stipulated,” Banner mutters in a scathing tone. “More like demanded.” He sends me a sideways glance. “Dr. Night wishes to work alone on his research. To have the entire research team relocated from the main observatory.”
I churn this information over, deciding how to use it to my advantage. “I assume that’s a daunting request.”
Banner grunts in confirmation.
“But it’s not entirely a bad one,” I say, earning a confused glare from him.
“At least during the evaluation period, to ensure protocols are in place, that safety measures are being taken for the symposium. It would give me the chance to observe him, to work one-on-one, providing him the attention he needs.”
It would give me three months.
His sigh is heavy. “Yes, of course. I’ll see what can be arranged.” A hint of acceptance laces his voice. “Thank you, Dr. Holbrook. I can already tell you’re going to be a valuable asset to Stonehurst.”
I accept his praise with a demure smile. “My pleasure, Dr. Banner.”
Not only does the femme fatale firefly have to shine just as bright as her male counterpart, she has to make sure no other predators smother his light.
She has to protect her male, all the while mimicking his flash pattern to lure him closer.