“Because you’re the most skeptical of all of us, and you’ll look at the data with a clear head. If you come back impressed, I’ll know it’s worth considering.”
Caesar can’t argue with that, and he purses his lips and gives a short nod.
“I’d be happy to take you around the farm,” Brielle says.
I was right—she likes him. And she’s so much prettier and more charismatic than I am. I know he’ll fall for her if he goes.
“No,” I say loudly.
Everyone looks at me. Gramps looks surprised. “You want to say something, Maddie?”
“I… um… it’s just that I know the science. I was the one who did the work at Blackridge. I should be the one to give the tour.”
“That’s right,” Gramps says, “it’s your baby.”
My face heats, and I have to fight not to rest my hand on my stomach.
“Right,” Caesar says, in a tone that suggests he’s thinkingfor fuck’s sake.
Oh shit. What on earth am I doing? I can’t possibly go with him to Blackridge and spend time with him alone. That would be a total disaster.
“It’s Waitangi Day tomorrow,” I state desperately. “And a public holiday Monday.”
“Then let’s make it next weekend,” Grandpa says smoothly. “Give us time to sort things out. You can take our jet. Saturday the thirteenth? I’ll pencil it in.”
“Nice way to spend a romantic weekend,” Aurelia jokes, reminding me it’ll be Valentine’s Day.
“I don’t think Maddie’s busy.” Brielle smirks, and I glare at her.
“Neither’s Caesar,” Marcus says, and Caesar glares at him.
“Then it’s sorted.” Edward closes his folder. “Caesar can report back, and then we can take it to the board if necessary. I’ll get back to you at the end of the month. Is that acceptable?”
Grandpa nods and shakes his hand, and we all get to our feet.
“Maddie,” Caesar says, “would you mind staying behind. I’d like a quick word about the trip.”
Fuck.
“Sure.” Nausea rises in me again.
“We’ll wait for you in the lobby,” Brielle states. She and Grandpa follow Edward and the others out, and the door swings shut behind them.
Caesar and I face each other over the table. I pick up my briefcase and hold it to me like a shield. My stomach rolls.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he snaps. “This wasn’t my idea, and I’m not happy about it. So don’t start thinking we’re going down for any reason other than to check out the fucking farm.”
I press my fingers to my mouth. Then I say hurriedly, “Excuse me.” Leaving my briefcase on the table, I open the door and run down the corridor to the bathroom I used earlier. Luckily, it’s vacant, and I go inside and lock the door behind me.
Then I vomit the contents of my breakfast into the toilet.
Well. That’s one way to exit a high-stakes negotiation.
I retch until there’s nothing left. When I’m done, I rinse out my mouth and look at my reflection in a mirror. It’s difficult to tell where my hair ends and my white face begins.
I splash on some cold water, my hands shaking. I don’t want to talk to Caesar. I know how he feels, and I don’t need him treating me like the bad guy when all I’m trying to do is concentrate on the science.
It’s not my fault that we slept together at the ball. I know I made the overture, but he could easily have said no and walked away. We’re both to blame.
