I nod in agreement.
She can’t ever find out.
This project, meant to be a breakthrough, is testing more than just our technical skills—it’s testing our morals, our friendships.
And I’m not sure what will be left standing at the end.
TEN
I’ve got this.
My heart thumps a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. It’s like I’m about to step into the headmaster’s office, not my colleagues’ workspace.
It’s just a meeting, Amelia.
You’ve done this a thousand times.
I’m wearing a light blue business blouse and lightweight pants, which now feel rather ridiculous. Typically, I would have opted for my usual jeans and sweater, but no, I wanted to present a professional image. I dressed up in the hope that they would see me as such.
I am a bloody professional, dammit.
Dithering in front of the door, I’m trying to summon the courage to knock when it swings open.
Misha’s there, his grin as wide and disarming as ever. “Why did I know you’re lurking out here,” he teases, pulling the door wider. “Come on in,Doctor.”
Fuck, this is embarrassing.
Hesitantly, I step inside, and my eyes immediately widen. Their office is a far cry from Hendricks’ and mine, with its sprawling size and sleek design. The back wall is entirely glass,offering a panoramic view of the neighboring skyscrapers that bathe the room in natural light. Three large desks with state-of-the-art screens are arranged facing each other on the right. To the left, there’s a meeting room, separated from the rest of the office by a glass wall, with a big meeting table and a digital whiteboard for brainstorming inside.
It’s clear Elysium isn’t just blowing smoke. They really do equip their golden boys with the best. I’m not one to get jealous, but anyone would be in awe of their setup.
Grey and Oliver are already standing in the meeting room behind the table when Misha guides me inside. Oliver is rubbing his neck, eyes on the floor, ears red, while Grey just gives me a curt nod, but it feels like more than professional courtesy as his eyes rake over me.
Misha gestures toward the big table. “Have a seat,” he offers, his tone casual but friendly.
I start to pull my laptop from my backpack, but Misha stops me with a gentle hand on my wrist, making goose bumps form on my arm.
Why does he always have to touch me?
“No need for that today. We just want to talk a little.”
That sounds ominously informal.
“I’ve recorded some of Jamie’s interactions with the smart home devices to give you a clearer picture of how he handles real-world tasks,” I argue because I don’t want all the work I did to be for nothing.
“You can load them up to our shared cloud later, but thank you for that.” Misha dismisses me, so with a nod, I hand over Jamie’s hardware, which he accepts with a smile.
It wasn’t easy to uninstall him this morning. Well, it was easy to do but not easy to handle. It felt more likelosing a friend—a one-dimensional one, but still a friend.
I can only hope they’re going to put him on the market soon.
Settling into the chair, I try to ease the tension in my shoulders. Misha leans against the table while Oliver hovers nearby, occasionally glancing my way but mostly studying his shoes.
If only they would sit, I could relax a little. It’s bad enough being in the same room as the three of them, but sitting here while they stand makes for a looming weight over me.
Grey stays in position at the other end of the table with his arms crossed, his permanent scowl etched across his face. I’ve seen him smile exactly once, and even then, it was more like his face was practicing the concept rather than embracing it.
“So, Amelia…” Misha begins, clasping his hands together, “… tell us about your experience with Jamie. Did everything go smoothly?”
