Torn (Lords of the City #1) (7 page)

BOOK: Torn (Lords of the City #1)
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A blush warmed my cheeks. I found the sudden silence incredibly awkward. At least, it was awkward for me. In his reflection in the elevator door, Noah seemed completely content. I looked at Julia, who smiled knowingly my way, as if she were amused by the show.

“Good day, ladies,” Noah bid when we finally reached the top floor. He proceeded to his office, and we went into ours, which stood adjacent to the solid gold door.

As soon as we were out of earshot, Julia hissed, “What was that all about?”

“Maybe his private elevator is broken,” I suggested. “Or maybe he just wanted to make sure I actually showed up for the job.”

Her face fell, all her amusement gone. “That’s probably exactly what it was,” she ventured. “He’s such a control freak.” Though she protested, I heard a hint of admiration.

“Good thing my hatchback didn’t break down. I probably would have been fired.”

“Doubtful,” she said, but she didn’t explain why. Instead, she perked up. “Never mind all that. What do you think of your new home? The apartment is a mere rest stop. This is where you’ll really be living.”

A view of Lake Michigan greeted us. A haze of gray rose above it and filtered in through the tall windows, but the gray was offset by apple-red furnishings that brightened up the place, including couches that formed a square near the door, creating a lounge area. Closer to the windows were two desks that sat at opposite ends on a raised platform. The platform was practically symmetrical, if not for the door on one side that I assumed led straight to Noah’s office.

“We’ll need a megaphone to talk to each other, but it’s great. The red really adds some life to the room. Did you design it?”

“No. One of the assistants before me did. I liked it, so I left it, but we’re allowed to change the color scheme. But only the color scheme. We can choose new furniture, but we can’t move it around, not without Mr. Stafford’s authorization, which he isn’t likely to give. He likes everything exactly where it is.”

People were constantly watching over my shoulder. It was fucking intolerable.
That’s what Corey had said in Thailand. I was starting to understand the restrictions that had forced him to leave. I could only imagine how Noah spoke to Corey, whose actions he clearly disapproved of, based on his insistence the other day that Corey unnecessarily put himself at risk.

“If you want to change it, feel free,” Julia continued.

“No, I love it. It should stay the same.”

“Careful,” she warned. “A lot of things stay the same around here, but not everything. Don’t get too comfortable.”

She headed to the desk closest to the wall we shared with Noah’s office, so I went to the other. A laptop sat on top of it. For the security of the research being conducted in the labs, we weren’t allowed to bring in our own devices. All electronics were provided to us, which was fine by me. My electronics were like my car. I liked to think of them as vintage.

“I forgot to leave this out for you.” Julia tossed me a wrist device. “Good catch,” she praised when I caught it.

“Good throw.”

“I played softball,” she revealed. “Think of that device as your phone. All messages Mr. Stafford sends will appear on it.”

“Gotcha,” I said, strapping it on, positive it tracked my whereabouts as astutely as the microchip in my arm did. “Look at me. A year ago, all I owned was an ancient laptop and a smartphone my friend had handed down to me. Now I’ve upgraded to Star Trek status.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Julia teased. “A hot nerd, but a nerd nonetheless. Don’t tell me you collect comic books?”

“I don’t collect them. I just read them. Blame my grandma. She stalked Stan Lee. Twice.”

“I’m not going to pretend to know who Stan Lee is,” she said, opening her laptop, “but if I have time, I’ll try to catch up, see what all the fuss is about.”

I was touched she would do that for me. Content despite the man in the room next to us, I followed her lead, officially commencing my employment with Stafford Scientific.

The morning was uneventful, if integrating into a company such as Stafford Scientific could be called uneventful. Julia trained me in the communication systems the company used and gave me a brief of the different departments. Each floor was like a city within the empire, composed of departments that were isolated but collaborated with others.

“Do we really have all this equipment here?” I asked, awestruck. The basement alone contained an advanced particle accelerator that was years beyond anything I’d studied in my books in college.

“And more. I don’t have visual access to the classified labs. No one does, except those who work in them and Mr. Stafford.”

She stretched out her arms, as if she were about to run a race. “Which brings us to our next order of business. The World Science Convention will be hosted here in Chicago by Stafford Scientific about a month from now. It’s a really big deal. We’re responsible for organizing pretty much everything, from scheduling the meetings that will take place over the three-day period to making sure the meat they serve at lunch is fresh.” She sighed. “We also have to arrange accommodations for the speakers and send out invitations to the gala. It’s a lot of work.”

“It sounds like it, but don’t worry, I can handle it,” I assured her, speaking with more confidence than I felt. “I think.”

“You can,” she maintained, optimistic, “but that’s not why I’m bringing it up. There will be a reveal at the convention that Mr. Stafford hasn’t yet given you clearance to know about. Because of that, I’ll have to assign you the more menial tasks until that clearance is given.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” I told her. “We’re all bound to discretion. It’s okay if you have secrets you can’t tell me.”

She laughed. “I do have those, but the convention is less about secrets and more about protecting Mr. Stafford’s patent.”

“I’ll lick envelopes. Send them my way. They’re tasty.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” she said affectionately, and we returned to our work.

No one interrupted us, not even Noah. Though he was only next door, he kept to himself. If he needed something, he sent us a message through our devices. He didn’t show although I got the feeling Julia expected him to. She kept glancing at the door that linked us to his office, but it never opened, which seemed to concern her.

“Is it weird seeing your image everywhere?” I asked when I needed a break.

“Not at all,” Julia said, her head bent over her laptop. “I paid my tuition at Harvard by modeling. I’m used to seeing my image around.” She looked up. “You should get used to it too.”

That sounded ominous. “What do you mean by that?”

“The next time they reconfigure the system, they’ll use your image. Traditionally, Mr. Stafford’s personal assistant is also the digital assistant. Trust me, it makes you very popular. You’ll be the most recognized face in the company. And the whole process is kind of fun. You sit in a green room for a few hours while they record you reading from a script.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun,” I objected. “I don’t care if it’s in my job description, I’m not doing it. There’s no way.”

“Why not? You’re a beautiful woman. You should be proud to have your image everywhere. All women should.”

“I’m not insecure; I just don’t like the idea of everyone staring at me every day.”

She shrugged, unable to mask her happiness. “Well, I don’t mind my image sticking around for a little while longer. If you don’t want to do it, then don’t.” Her pep told me she was delighted that she wouldn’t be replaced so soon.

***

It was the following day before Noah finally appeared in our office. Unfortunately, Julia was on her lunch break when he did. In the middle of finalizing the invitations for the gala, a ball that would be held at the end of the World Science Convention, my focus had been on the screen of my laptop. I hadn’t heard him come in, not until he cleared his throat, unmistakably annoyed it’d taken so long to catch my attention.

“Has Julia showed you the program used to take notes during meetings?” he asked sternly, as if her absence was somehow my fault.

“Yes,” I told him. “I know the system.”

He paused and raised an eyebrow as if waiting for something from me. I knew what it was. He wanted me to call him sir, but I refused. It was barbaric. I just looked at him expectantly and I won the silent little battle as he continued. ”I have an unscheduled meeting in five minutes in the boardroom. Grab your tablet and come with me.”

Without waiting for a response, he strode into the hall with a virile confidence that rendered me needy and reckless, despite my opinion that Noah Stafford was a bad decision I could never make. I followed behind him, but my heels made it impossible to match his speed, and they clicked against the floor in a way that gave me a headache, so I stopped to take them off.

“What are you doing?” Noah rumbled.

“Keeping up,” I replied. “I don’t mean to be unprofessional, but I can’t wear heels like these, even if they are part of the dress code. I’ll be discreet when I carry them into the boardroom. No one will notice.”

He inspected me as if I were a piece of fruit he was trying to decide was ripe enough to pluck. “You’re lucky I like you in bare feet. Otherwise, I would never allow it. I didn’t give you permission to take off your shoes. Next time, ask before you act. I’m not paying you for your initiative. I’m paying you to obey my command.”

I took a deep breath, wishing Corey was there to ease the tension I felt. “Do I have your permission to buy sandals?”

“No. When you walk my halls, you either wear heels, or you go barefoot. The choice is yours.”

It was an easy choice. The marble was cool against my feet. I would gladly go barefoot.

In the boardroom, a dozen people waited for us in silence. Noah marched to the front, a torpedo locked onto his target. Not sure where to sit, I remained in the back and prepared my tablet to record the minutes of the meeting.

My fumbling stopped when Noah bellowed across the room, “Imogen, please don’t stand in the back like a ghost who doesn’t wish to be seen. Your place is up front, in the corner.”

Embarrassed, I quickly made my way towards him, absorbing the empathy that radiated off those who sat around the table, their understanding of my humiliation written all over their faces.

“Let me remind everyone here that you are bound by non-disclosure agreements,” Noah began. “Nothing is to leave this boardroom. You are never to talk of what we discuss outside the company. If you breach this agreement, I will take action against you. You and your families will suffer.”

No one protested. The room remained silent. Satisfied, Noah signaled for a tech guy to turn on the projector, and he started a lecture on nanotechnology.

I didn’t take notes on the presentation. As soon as the projector was turned on, it was sent straight to my tablet. As Noah spoke, I read his words in front of me. It was fascinating. I had a background knowledge of nanorobotics, but I had no idea of the implications of the technology. According to Noah, tiny robots the size of molecules could physically repair tissues within the human body like little mechanics. He predicted they could one day change DNA sequences, creating or erasing mutations to eliminate birth defects and other inherited diseases.

“We can’t alter DNA just yet,” he said in closing, “but here at Stafford Scientific, we have experienced a breakthrough in nanotechnology that would allow us to repair human tissue. We’re very close to human trials, but we need to win over the medical community first. I plan to reveal our breakthrough at the convention next month.”

Excited murmurs rose around the table, and I went to work. There was a lot of technical talk I didn’t understand. As a scientist, I found it insanely frustrating, so I made a commitment to study more about nanotechnology later that night so that I was ready for the convention.

“We can’t wait for the approval of the medical community,” a man towards the back argued. “At the convention, we need to present more than just the possibilities of the research. Sure, a few rats were cured of their heart defects, and a blind guinea pig could see again. Who cares? It’s not enough to prove nanotechnology can be safe for humans. We need conclusive evidence. Begin the human trials now.”

“We’re not there yet,” Noah said impatiently. “The whole point of this convention is to draw in the medical community so that we can safely begin the human trials.”

“Fuck the medical community. We can buy the medical community.”

Pounding his fists on the table, Noah exerted his authority. “You would risk the lives of innocent people so carelessly? Why?” he demanded.

The man wasn’t put off, the fool. “This is a business, not a charity. Who cares if a few lives are lost? All medical trials have death.”

I gaped at the man but kept my face carefully blank. I wanted to jump up and shout at him, hit him with my tablet. Instead, I waited to see what Noah would do. If anything.

“We’re not a pharmaceutical company. I did not start this company to kill people. Our brand of science is meant to help people, not hurt them. If you don’t understand that, you can leave.” Noah spoke sharply, like a judge holding his gavel.

The man shrunk in his seat. “I’m sorry, sir. I was merely playing devil’s advocate. Of course we should ensure the trials are safe and supervised by professionals in the medical field.”

I doubted he truly believed so.

His apology didn’t ease Noah. The fire, so hot it was cold, was lit. “This presentation is over,” Noah seethed. “Leave. All of you. Now.”

I moved with the crowd who rose from their seats, but Noah held me back. “Not you, Imogen. You only leave with me. Never before. Never after. Your place is by my side.”

Julia waited for us back in our office, a coffee in her hand. “Please know you can always call me away from lunch, sir. I’m at your beck and call.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” he barked and disappeared behind the door to his office.

Seemingly used to his discourtesy, Julia turned to me. “How did it go?”

“Terrifying,” I admitted.

“Let’s get a drink after work,” she decided. “I think we both need it.”

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