The word hung between them, ugly and raw.
Alina’s hands wanted to shake. She kept them flat on her thighs, pressing her palms against the fabric of her pants.
“Think whatever you want, Martin. I can’t stop you from wasting GenCon’s resources on wild speculation.”
For a moment, something dangerous flickered in his pale eyes—the same look she’d seen when he’d grabbed her arm, when he’d tried to corner her in the corridor. Her body tensed, preparing for confrontation.
But then his expression smoothed, transforming into something almost worse. Something calculating.
“You know,” he said, his tone shifting to something approximating warmth, “it doesn’t have to be like this between us.”
“Like what?”
“Adversarial.” He set the tablet down on the nearest workstation and took a step closer. Close enough that she could see the individual threads of gold in his spectacle frames. “We could be partners, Alina. In every sense of the word.”
Oh no. Not this again.
“Martin—”
“Hear me out.” He held up a hand, the gesture almost magnanimous. “I know we’ve had our differences. I know I’vebeen… perhaps too aggressive in pursuing what I want. But that’s only because I recognize your potential. Your value.”
The words landed like stones in her stomach.
Value. Like I’m an asset to be acquired.
“I’ve spoken with the GenCon representatives,” Martin continued, his voice dropping to an intimate register that made her skin crawl. “They’re very interested in whatever’s hiding in those mountains. Very interested, and very generous with their funding.”
“I’ve already told you I want nothing to do with GenCon.”
“But that’s the beauty of it.” He smiled, and somehow it was worse than his anger. “If you’re willing to work with me—truly work with me—then I can present this as a joint discovery. Your name alongside mine. Full credit, full recognition. The kind of career-making find that scientists dream about.”
Joint discovery. As if he had any claim to what she’d found. As if Rhyx was something to be discovered, cataloged, dissected for academic publications and corporate profit.
“And in return?” She already knew the answer, but she needed him to say it.
“In return…” Martin reached out, and before she could pull away, his fingers brushed along her jaw. “You stop fighting what’s between us.”
Alina jerked back, her chair rolling against the workstation behind her.
“There’s nothing between us, Martin. There never has been.”
“That’s not true.” His voice hardened, the mask of charm slipping. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you challenge me, argue with me—that’s passion, Alina. You just won’t admit it.”
“It’s contempt. There’s a difference.”
The words were out before she could stop them, sharp and clear and absolutely true.
Martin’s face went white.
Then red.
Then something twisted and ugly that made every instinct in her body scream danger.
“You think you’re better than me.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut like glass. “You’ve always thought that. Standing there with your natural brilliance, your perfect intuition, looking down at everyone who actually has to work for their achievements.”
“That’s not?—”
“Do you have any idea what I’ve sacrificed?” He stepped closer, and she pressed back against the workstation, feeling the edge dig into her spine. “The hours, the years, the compromises? Everything I’ve done to get where I am, and you just waltz in with your pretty face and your clever little mind and expect the world to fall at your feet.”
