Chapter 1
Fen lay handcuffedand seething on the floor, face to face with her business rival and enemy, the brilliant and arrogant Carter Howe.
When she’d been ambushed, given some knockout drug, and tossed into the cargo bay of an airplane bound for who knows where, she’d been frightened but not panicked. It had been obvious what was going on, given that she owned one of the three top tech companies in America: she was being held for ransom. It was horrible and scary and she could lose a whole lot of money if the cops weren’t on their game, but it wasn’t as if her life was in danger. The criminals would get nothing if they killed her.
Then a handcuffed man had been tossed in with her. When he’d woken up and she’d seen his face, her fear had transmuted into incandescent rage.
“You!” Carter Howe exclaimed, like he was genuinely surprised. Thenerveof him!
“You!” Fen snarled. She would have liked to add some choice insults, but she was so furious that it rendered her speechless.
“Fenella Kim!” Carter spoke if he was uttering the name of some famous villainess, like Cruella De Vil or Maleficent.
“Carter Howe!” Fen was thinking of Voldemort and Darth Vader.
It was the first time she’d encountered him in person, but he’d been a thorn in her side for years. It wasn’t just that he owned one of the other three top tech companies in America, and so was her natural rival; it washim, specifically.
Her mind skipped and skittered over flashes of the Carter Howe Experience, like the world’s most annoying highlights (or rather lowlights) video. Carter’s arrogant emails when he’d attempted a hostile takeover of her company. Carter’s famous face smirking from the cover ofWiredmagazine. Carter’s famous face smirking all over the news when he’d mysteriously disappeared. Carter’s famous face smirking all over the newsagainwhen he’d mysteriously reappeared a year later. Carter’s hypocritically outraged emails when she’d attempted a hostile takeover of his company in revenge.
And here was Carter’s famous face, in the actual flesh, mere inches away from her after he’d had herkidnapped!
“You!” Fen repeated, summing it all up. “I might’ve known it would beyou!”
“Me?” Carter protested. “What did I do?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about when I’m lying here handcuffed. This is some plot of yours!”
“Not unless I’m plotting against myself too,” Carter pointed out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m also handcuffed. Not to mention footcuffed. And lying on a cold hard floor with a splitting headache and my coat getting all creased.”
“I noticed,” Fen snarled. “You do look a mess.”
She’d been so shocked and furious at the sight of him that she hadn’t processed the implications. She needed to take a step back—a metaphorical step, given that she was tied up on the floor—and get her brain into gear.
Focus,she told herself.
It was so annoying that after all these years and all her practice, she still hadn’t focused on the relevant details automatically, or even automatically reminded herself to do it. That was probably why she’d gotten kidnapped in the first place. If she’d been paying attention when she’d run out to grab a quick coffee—
She was losing track of things again.
Focus.
She took a deep breath, concentrating on her lungs and chest expanding. Though her chest couldn’t fully expand in the cramped position she was in, and the cold floor was so uncomfortable and the footcuffs (was that a real word?) were especially cold and—
Focus, she reminded herself.What can you touch?
That was unusually difficult. She could only touch her own hands, and it was weird to try to focus on touching when she was also being touched.
Good enough,she decided.Now, observe.
She’d already observed her surroundings to death. She was in a big empty cargo space with glaring white lights, she felt a vibration and heard a low thrum that meant she was on an airplane, and she smelled harsh chemicals and metal. Now it was time to observe the thorn in her side, the pebble in her shoe, the oh so famous and brilliant Carter Howe.
She’d seen him so often in photos and video, it was strange to observe him in person. And even if she’d seen him in person before, it would presumably have been standing up or sitting down, not lying on the floor with his ankles cuffed together and his hands cuffed behind his back and his black hair mussed and dusty.
He was taller than she’d realized. Her practiced eye, used to measuring lengths and widths, estimated that he’d be 6’2” straightened out and without shoes, give or take a half inch or so. Broad shoulders. His white shirt was pulled tight by the handcuffs, showing a more muscular chest than she’d noticed in pictures. He must have a personal trainer and high-tech workout gear, which also explained his shoulders. And his forearms. And (his pants were pulled very tight too, that had to be uncomfortable) his thighs and a distinctly impressive—
Fen yanked her observation away from that. She did not want to be thinking about her enemy’s dick. Gross. At least, it ought to be gross.
Ugh,she told herself firmly.Gross.
