Misha looks a bit sheepish as he addresses me, “Amelia, would you be willing to help us out a bit longer to iron out these issues? We understand if you say no. We can’t compensate you for any extra hours outside of Elysium, and we can’t offer much in terms of credit…”
I have to suppress a laugh. I would never share credit for my AR with someone just because they beta-tested it for me.
Does he think I’m delusional?
I cut him off with a reassuring smile, my tone lightly sarcastic. “Don’t worry about it. I get it, and I’m happy to help. Maybe someday you guys can return the favor and beta test for me.”
Thinking thatthey—the future of tech—might beta test for me…
Thatwould be delusional.
At my words, a small smirk curls on Grey’s lips—an expression that sends an unexpected flutter through my chest.
God, it’s so unfair. How are they all so handsome and brilliant at the same time?
Leave some for the rest of us.
“Thank you, this is very much appreciated,” Misha says, exhaling a relieved breath as he hands back Jamie’s hardware. I quickly stash it in my backpack, a ripple of joy passing through me at the thought of putting Jamie back where he belongs tonight.
“And how should I get the feedback to you? Should I upload a report to the cloud, or…” I trail off, hoping they’ll be happy with this option while I stand and put my backpack on.
Misha chuckles. “Who has time for daily reports or meetings? I bet you’ve got your own mountain of work, and we’re not about to hijack any more of your time. How about lunch?”
“Lunch what?” I blink, not sure if I heard him right.
“Youdoeat lunch, don’t you? We could meet up, have a bite, and discuss your findings. Casual,” he suggests with a shrug.
Ah, shit.
“Or I could just send you an email,” I counter, hoping to steer clear of more face-to-face time.
“You’re funny,” Misha grins, and I grimace internally.
I wasn’t trying to be funny.
Checking his smartwatch, Misha announces, “Speaking of which, it’s about lunchtime. Fancy joining us?” His eyes twinkle with mischief, clearly not ready to let me slip away so easily.
I shake my head, desperate to hide in my own office. “No, thank you.”
But Misha, undeterred, places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
He’s so touchy-feely, and I’m not quite sure if I like it.
Delusional Amelia strikes again.
“Oh, come on. It’s the least we can do to treat you to lunch,” he cajoles, his grin infectious.
I let out a small laugh, feeling the tension in my shoulders loosen slightly. “Elysiumpays for our lunch.”
From the other side of the room, Grey mutters, “And who do you think brings in the money that pays for those lunches?”
His arrogance is maddening, like a cat who not only got the cream but convinced you to open the bottle for him.
Rolling my eyes, I concede, “Fine, lunch it is.”
Putting in any more resolve at this point would just be childish. But seeing Oliver’s surprised face, I guess they didn’t really believe I would join them in the first place.
Fuck, did they count on me saying no?
