“I’ll try to figure out how and when she’d push for the lab transfer. If I can anticipate that decision, we’ll be ready.”
“Good.” Francesca’s gaze lingered. “Just remember—emotions make you blind. That’s when people get played.”
“OK.” Lucia stretched the word. She shifted her weight slightly on the firm velvet cushion, the fabric too stiff to sink into, too refined to offer comfort. “That’s a pretty bleak view, mind you.”
Not to mention there wouldn’t even be art without emotions.
“Perhaps,” Francesca murmured. “But it’s the truth.”
~ ~ ~
Lucia sat slouched on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a half-read book forgotten on the cushion beside her. The house was quiet, save for the sudden clatter of ice cubes dropping into the freezer tray, followed by the soft hiss of the ice maker refilling.
Almost two weeks had passed since their coffee meeting that had felt suspiciously like a date, and Lucia hadn’t heard a single word from Blackwell—from Penelope.
She’d tried to keep her distance from the moment she first saw her at the lecture, and their little game aside, it now took so much effort to keep Penelope boxed up in her head as just Blackwell. It felt wrong.
Of course, the connection thrumming between them might only exist in her mind. But she still needed to get closer for the mission, even if the urgency came from somewhere else entirely.
Shewantedto see Penelope again.
That much was clear from how often she checked her phone, even digging through the settings to make sure she hadn’tsomehow muted notifications. She’d started a few messages, only to delete them again.
Sometimes she wondered if she was lying to herself. She kept rejecting Francesca’s suggestion to charm Penelope, but then she’d gone and flirted with her. And that hadn’t been for the job. It had been…genuine.
Which of course, was part of the problem and explained why she finally caved. With a grunt, she snatched up her phone and texted:
Up for a second coffee date?
She dropped the phone onto the coffee table like it had burned her, then marched into the kitchen to start dinner. Might as well put her nervous energy to use.
They had ended their first meeting with talk of a second, so it wasn’t totally out of the blue, but after two weeks of silence, maybe Penelope had changed her mind.
Lucia was halfway through draining her pasta when her phone beeped.
She hurried to put everything down, wiped her hands and grabbed the phone—smiling when she saw Penelope’s reply:
Hello to you, too.
Hello, Dr. Blackwell.
Are we incorporating formality in general?
Depends.
On what?
Are you up for a second coffee date?
So you’re admitting it was a date?
“Fuck,” Lucia mumbled into the room. She hesitated, then replied:
Figure of speech.
Coward.
Lucia groaned.
