She snorts.
“No?”
“Come on,” she says. “You’re…you. The elusive Jace Henderson, billionaire by the time you were twenty-nine, perpetual bachelor who takes on health insurance companies and government officials alike.”
“That’s probably why my patent application was denied,” I mutter.
She frowns. “For the blood clot removal product you’re testing?”
“You know about that?”
Titan Capital and Genen-core collaborate in the loosest of terms—Titan Capital provides the silent capital for the producer of one of the microchips in our product—but that’s not under Marie’s purview.
Or maybe…I misjudged how much she actually does.
Or maybe not, I realize when I see the edgy look creep onto her face. “What?” I ask.
Surprisingly, she answers, “I may or may not have done some research on you when I found out you lived down the hall.”
“She likes me, folks,” I tease. “I think she really likes me.”
She keeps going. “And anyway, so I read up on Genen-core.” A shrug. “What you’re doing is pretty cool.” One half of her mouth tips up. “And it’s even cooler that Titan Capital can claim a small part of it.”
“More of your research?”
“I’m good at my job.” Her nose wrinkles. “Though, I suppose I can’t reasonably take credit for saving tens of thousands of lives now, can I?”
I grin. “Maybe not.”
“Drat.” She scoops up the last bite of her risotto. “So, why did the patent get denied?”
“So far our legal team doesn’t have any concrete answers. They say our item isn’t patentable, but that’s bullshit and we have the research and precedence to prove it.” I sigh, a familiar throb beginning in my temple. I’ve been going over and over this in my head, without making much progress. “And bullshit seems to be a problem that’s catching all around—there’s weird shit happening, some of it feels punitive in nature, and no matter how hard we try, no real answers are unearthed and we can’t get ahead of it.”
“Hmm,” she says quietly.
I push my plate back, suddenly not able to stomach the last few bites, no matter how delicious. “I’ve had to put out more than a fair share of fires in regard to contract renewals and distribution agreements, and that’s not even taking into account the patent, or the fact that the board’s not happy, or…that I’m getting the sinking sensation that someone in my organization is actively trying to sabotage the company.”
Her brows pull together. “Do you have any leads?”
“Unfortunately not.” I sigh, finish off my wine because at least the red will hone down the sharp edges of my frustration. “Worse, we seem to be involved in a certain powerful bureau’s investigation, though I don’t have any fucking answers on that front either.”
“Does that bureau go by a name that’s only three letters long?”
I put my wine glass down. “Yes,” I say slowly.
She picks hers up, takes a long sip. “I know this is unlikely, considering the minuscule connection between our companies, but my intuition is screaming at me.”
“What’s it saying?”
“That it’s too early to put my cards on the table, but that I promise to do some research tomorrow and let you know as soon as I have something concrete.”
I study her for a long moment.
Then I figure she’s fully capable of handling this, and that if she does find something pertaining to Genen-core, she’ll share it.
So I just say, “Okay.”
Her eyes go wide. “Just…okay?”
