Defining Parameters
Riley
The room was designed to feel neutral. Glass walls, muted neutral tones.
A table large enough to establish distance without making the distance itself obvious.
Even the lighting had been considered carefully; bright enough to maintain alertness, soft enough to prevent strain.
Minimal external noise. Minimal visual clutter.
Everything about the space suggested intentional regulation, engineered to facilitate agreement without distraction.
It worked, which made the disruption inside the room easier for Riley to isolate.
She placed her folder neatly on the table before sitting, adjusting its alignment once against the edge.
Across from her, two members of Declan’s team were already seated.
One legal, one operational, if she had to infer based on presentation alone.
Both organised and prepared, with clearly tabbed documents, polished briefcase and a refined posture.
They looked comfortable in this environment in the way people did when negotiation had become routine rather than consequential.
Riley had come alone.
Additional representation would have introduced unnecessary interference and diluted clarity of responsibility. She had no intention of remaining in this meeting if her conditions were not met, which meant legal mediation felt functionally redundant.
It did, however, leave her visibly outnumbered. She acknowledged the imbalance without reacting to it.
To her right, the disruption within the room resolved into something more specific. Declan Montgomery did not belong within the carefully muted environment surrounding him. Everything else in the room had been softened into neutrality. He had done the opposite.
The shirt beneath his blazer was a dark burgundy instead of the expected charcoal or navy, enough colour to disrupt the visual uniformity without crossing into unprofessional-ism. Intentional, Riley decided immediately. A chosen refusal to fully conform to the environment around him.
His posture reinforced the same conclusion.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, one arm stretched loosely along the backrest, the other resting near the table like the room required no adjustment from him whatsoever.
The posture should have read as casual. It didn’t.
There was something too controlled beneath it, something deliberate in the ease he projected, like he understood exactly how much space he occupied and had learned long ago how to wield that awareness to his advantage.
Irritatingly, Riley kept noticing him anyway.
Physically, he remained consistent with her earlier observations, though the office lighting altered him slightly.
Under the cooler white fluorescents, his hair appeared darker than it had in the television studio, less chestnut, closer to black at certain angles.
There was faint shadowing along his jaw now too, enough to soften the overly polished presentation he had worn on air.
None of it was relevant. Riley became aware, with growing irritation, that he simply made her want to observe him.
The realisation itself was deeply inconvenient. As though sensing the attention, Declan turned his head slightly and caught her looking.
Riley held the eye contact for exactly long enough to communicate mild disdain before returning her attention to the documents in front of her as though the interaction carried no significance whatsoever.
“Dr Lorrent,” one of the team members began smoothly, drawing the room back into structure, “we appreciate you taking the time to—”
“I would prefer to proceed directly to the negotiation,” Riley interrupted evenly.
There was no practical purpose in performing unnecessary pleasantries, particularly given she would not have attended this meeting under normal circumstances.
Following the morning show segment and the entirely disproportionate public response that followed it, Riley had contacted her employer with the intention of formally withdrawing from any continuation of the concept altogether.
She had never intended to publicly pursue research relating to cardiovascular fitness and cognitive function, particularly not through social media.
Unfortunately, her employer had interpreted the situation very differently.
Apparently, the segment had performed ‘exceptionally well’ across multiple platforms after clips of her interaction with Declan had circulated online.
Public engagement surrounding the contrast between them had escalated rapidly afterwards, particularly concerning what viewers repeatedly insisted on referring to as their ‘sexual tension’.
Riley remained unconvinced that irritation qualified as sexual tension. However, more irritating still had been her employer’s response.
According to him, verbally agreeing to ‘give it a go’ on live television constituted a public commitment.
Worse, during the conversation, he admitted something else.
The network originally approached several senior psychologists within the company to participate in the segment.
None of them wanted to do it. The opportunity was eventually passed down to her instead, not because she was approachable, as originally claimed, but because she was simply the remaining available option.
Riley had found that information profoundly irritating, and yet annoyingly, Dee’s perspective complicated her ability to dismiss the situation entirely.
At the time, Riley rejected the argument immediately on principle, however she was forced to acknowledge that Dee had a reasonable point regarding leveraging Declan’s platform to establish visibility for her work.
Her employer had agreed enthusiastically. Apparently, she should ‘lean into the opportunity’ and commit fully to the experiment. According to him, it could become ‘a beneficial learning experience’.
Riley informed him she did not require a learning experience. He laughed.
So now she was here, negotiating the terms of an experiment she would never have voluntarily agreed to had she been given an actual choice in the matter.
“Of course,” the woman across from her continued, sliding a document neatly across the table. “We’ve outlined a preliminary structure based on the proposal—”
Riley did not reach for it. “Before we proceed,” she said instead. “I need to clarify that my participation is contingent upon full methodological oversight.”
Declan’s attention shifted immediately, not toward the paperwork like she expected, toward her.
“The proposal, as currently structured,” Riley continued calmly, “lacks sufficient controls for valid implementation. Without consistency in application, the reliability of any resulting data becomes compromised. Any continuation of this experiment would require direct involvement from me regarding framework design, environmental variables, implementation procedures, and data interpretation.”
“That’s reasonable,” the man across from her said quickly. “We anticipated some level of collaborative—”
“I require complete oversight,” Riley corrected.
A brief silence followed. Across the table, Declan’s mouth shifted slightly, the beginning of a smile he did not entirely bother concealing. Riley ignored him completely, sliding her revised document across the table.
“If this proceeds,” Riley interrupts, “the structure will require substantial modification.”
The woman across from her reached for the document immediately, scanning the opening pages while Riley continued.
“The experiment will run longitudinally over a six-month period,” Riley said. “The first phase will consist of baseline data collection.”
Declan’s attention sharpened slightly. “Meaning?”
“It means I need an established pattern before introducing intervention variables,” she clarified. “For approximately six to eight weeks, I will observe existing behavioural, cognitive, and physiological trends under relatively consistent conditions.”
His operational manager blinked once. “In English?”
Riley exhaled softly through her nose, irritated. “I need to determine what outcomes already exist before measuring whether training alters them.”
“That,” Declan said lightly, “was significantly easier to understand.”
Riley ignored him. “Sleep quality, cognitive performance, executive functioning capacity, stress regulation, recovery, dietary consistency, attention control and psychological well-being will all be tracked throughout the baseline period,” she continued.
“Once sufficient data patterns are established, the intervention phase will begin.”
“And that lasts the remaining four months?” the woman asked.
“Approximately,” Riley confirmed. “At that stage, variables can be modified incrementally and outcomes measured comparatively against baseline functioning.”
Declan leaned back slightly in his chair, watching her with increasing interest now rather than resistance. “You’ve planned this already.”
“I was forced into publicly committing to it,” Riley replied flatly. “It would have been irresponsible not to.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face at that. Riley continued before he could interrupt again. “The training environment itself must also remain controlled. I will require structured filming, no spontaneous alterations for engagement purposes.”
Declan’s mouth twitched slightly. “You say ‘engagement purposes’ like it’s a disease.”
“In this context, it frequently is.”
His team tried unsuccessfully not to laugh. Riley ignored that too. “I will also require editorial oversight regarding scientific interpretation,” she continued. “I am not permitting cognitive research to be reduced into motivational content.”
“That part’s fine,” Declan said. Riley’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The agreement came too easily. Up until now, he had challenged nearly every structural point she introduced, pushing against her language, her methodology, her insistence on precision.
This was a negotiation: immediate agreement suggested either strategy or ulterior motive.
Her attention shifted toward him, suspicion threading quietly beneath the surface. “With one condition.”
There it was. Riley exhaled softly through her nose and rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. Unfortunately, Declan caught it immediately. His mouth curved, subtle and annoyingly satisfied, like her reaction had confirmed something for him.
She lifted a hand in a small circular motion. Continue.
“You don’t just observe,” he said.
Riley’s posture remained unchanged. “Observation is a fundamental component of experimental design,” she replied evenly. “I do not understand the issue.”
“The issue is that it won’t work.”
Riley frowned slightly, confusion pulling at the space between her brows. Declan noticed it instantly.
“You want people online to understand what you’re researching,” he continued. “They won’t if you’re sitting on the sidelines analysing everyone else doing the work.”
“That is not the purpose of my research.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it is the reality of the platform.”
His attention held hers steadily now, sharper than before.
“People follow me because they feel involved,” he said. “Not because they’re interested in technical terminology or data interpretation. If this experiment’s going to translate beyond an academic setting, they need to see it happening to someone in real time.”
Riley’s fingers stilled briefly against the edge of the document. Declan leaned forward slightly then, the relaxed posture easing into something more deliberate.
“You said cardiovascular fitness impacts cognition,” he said. “Fine, so show people what that actually looks like over time.” His gaze held hers.
Riley stared at him for a moment. Because structurally, his argument made sense.
“You’re asking me to become part of the experiment,” she said carefully.
“I’m asking you not to hide behind it, yeah.” The words landed with irritating assuredness.
Silence settled briefly across the room. Riley became aware, distantly, that everyone else had stopped speaking. His team watched the exchange without interrupting it, as though they realised the negotiation stopped being about contracts several minutes ago.
“And filming remains standardised,” Riley said finally.
Declan’s expression shifted immediately, something brief and unreadable moving through it before it settled again. “Within reason,” he said.
She considered him for another second. He had manoeuvred her into this deliberately. He recognised the weakness in a purely observational design for public engagement and pushed until she reached the conclusion herself.
Irritating, yet effective. Riley inclined her head once. “Then that condition is acceptable.”
His legal team moved quickly after that, revising language, restructuring clauses, adjusting deliverables. Declan barely looked at the documents. His attention remained fixed on her, steady enough that Riley became increasingly aware of it despite herself.
“Everything else stays the same from my conditions?” she asked.
“Of course.” Another pause stretched between them. Then Declan reached for the pen and signed the document with quick, practised ease before sliding it across the table toward her. “You have a deal, Riles.”
Riley’s hand stopped mid-reach. The nickname registered less as familiarity and more as immediate procedural error. Her eyes lifted slowly. “That is not my name.”
Declan looked entirely unbothered. “Close enough.”
“It is not functionally equivalent.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Right. Of course. My mistake.” A beat passed. “Riles.”
The repetition was abrupt. Riley tightened her grip slightly around the pen. “Stop doing that.”
He didn’t. Worse, he looked entertained by her irritation.
Riley held his gaze for another moment, long enough to confirm that compliance was unlikely, before looking back down and signing the contract anyway.
The motion remained meticulous, every letter aligned neatly despite the growing suspicion that she just agreed to something significantly more complicated than anticipated.
“You’ll get used to me, Riles,” Declan said easily.
Riley capped the pen with exact alignment before setting it parallel to the edge of the table. “No. I disagree with that outcome.”
Declan smiled properly then, bright and unreasonably confident. “Yeah. We’ll see.”
Riley adjusted the document stack once, smoothing the edges as her mind re-calibrated around the new framework. The terms were now defined, the methodology established. The variables accounted for.
At least, most of them. Because Declan Montgomery himself remained an increasingly disruptive factor within the environment.
Riley suspected that would become a problem.