Our time together recently had been exactly what I’d hoped for. An opportunity for us to get to know one another, our rivalry set aside, to do something as a team. Maybe it was this surprise audit?
I was compelled to do some research on my own while I waited. Once my mind started connecting the dots with her mishmash of notes, there was no stopping. Luckily, ProfessorLogan’s class and one other were all I’d need to miss, and I’d called out for work.
I spent the next several hours poring over industry reports, science journals, and technical bulletins, trying to find where Leyla would have come up with this exact solution, but to no avail.
Checking my phone for the hundredth time for her email reply, I growled, “Come on, Leyla. Answer me.” Every time I tried to get up, my head spun, and the nausea returned. I was subsisting on Gatorade and crackers.
Then an idea came to me, and I shot off an email to the TA, asking for any example reports from the professor’s previous classes and for more time. He had mentioned that early in the semester, and I had written it down in case I’d need it for anything. He was known for archiving key model reports. That tidbit turned out to be both a curse and a blessing.
Dread filled my mind when I received an email from the TA saying, “Here is an archive. Use it only for formatting. Professor Logan will know if you copied it.”
After reading it over and over again, the conclusion was the same. Leyla had unwittingly copied a resolution word-for-word from a previous student’s findings, and universities were unwavering in their punishment for plagiarism, and that’s what this would look like.
I had to talk to Professor Logan before Garrett submitted the audit results. I sent Professor Logan an email begging for a meeting, and a half hour later, he accepted, but I had to come right then. Checking my phone one last time for an answer from Leyla and finding none, I thought about just giving up and calling her, but there was no time.
I didn’t have the strength to change clothes, so I left in the pair of sweatpants and T-shirt I’d slept in. My body groaned in protest, but I had one singular goal.
Protect Leyla at all costs from being branded a plagiarist, even if it meant damaging my own standing in the class if we were both blamed for what she had done.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nikolas
Present Day
“Niko,our COO, Kimberley Wells, was called away for an unexpected meeting, but you’ll meet her and your executive assistant, Marshall Keys, later today,” Luke said, leading me into a conference room. Leyla followed, her arms crossed, lips in a tight line.
I had gotten better at reading body language over the years, and it was clear that she didn’t want to be in this meeting. It wasn’t like she was being discreet.
As I sat down on the buttery-soft leather seat, my nerves calmed slightly. This was what I’d prepared for. A meeting with my team and a clear overview of my new position. Finally.
The rest of the offices were almost entirely glass, and I wondered how people got much done with that kind of distraction. But the conference room had walls, most likely for privacy. I hoped the lab had those too.
Luke sat next to me, offering me a coffee, which I declined, and I waited as Leyla sat at the head of the long table. Shewas looking over a file she’d brought in with her, so I took the opportunity to glance at her.
Besides a few laugh lines near her mouth, I’d never have known nine years had passed. I wondered if Earth Organix had a cream for that. Best not to ask, but I made a mental note to look into it. I learned that lesson with my mom a long time ago. Women didn’t like that sort of thing, apparently.
Her hair was a little longer now, but was still sun-streaked. I hoped she still surfed since she loved it so much back then. Forcing my mind away from my musings, I waited for the meeting to begin.
“Well,” Leyla said on a loud exhale. “We have a lot to go over, and I have a very busy day. Jaz, my assistant, will bring you a laptop in just a minute. The badge you were given downstairs allows you access to the elevator and will also serve as your lab pass.”
“That doesn’t seem secure,” I said, wondering why there weren’t more precautions in place.
Leyla’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out, which amused me. Luke groaned next to me.
“Are you saying we’re lax on security? That we don’t have safety measures in place? That we don’t know what we’re doing?” she asked incredulously, her voice growing louder and higher-pitched as questions poured from her mouth.
“I only stated a fact.”
“Of all the arrogant…” she growled.
“There is no reason to get personal about this. The labs I’ve previously worked in gave me an ID that got me into the office and another one that was only given to those allowed in the lab,” I answered, not understanding why she was responding this way.
Luke put both hands up as if he were breaking up a schoolyard fight and said quickly, “Niko, the badge you receiveddownstairs is the one that only laboratory employees receive. Everyone else has a different one. We found that by doing that, those in our labs didn’t have to keep track of two passes.”
“And if one of them does lose their badge, there is a significant penalty for it, besides knowing everyone has to get a new badge when it happens, and the codes have to be changed. Which we do quarterly anyway. Does that satisfy your fears?” Leyla asked, her voice tinged in frustration.
I didn’t understand why some things I said in conversation upset or offended others, especially my new boss. But I’d learned how to alleviate the tension.
