Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
My blood is thrumming, my heart pounding. I’ve been working on this for years, have experienced moments of elation during breakthroughs and moments of despair during major setbacks. I’ve given my blood, sweat, and tears to the BioVIVE. I’ve sacrificed time with my friends and my husband to be here at all hours of the day, advancing science. And look: It didn’t just go over well, it was a roaring success.
I scan the room, the air teeming with excitement. Leonard is positively giddy, his smiling eyes telling me just how well the presentation was received. Annie is beaming. Claire gives me a muted round of applause. I think Tom is happy—it’s always hard to tell with him.
One day I’ll get to share these victories with Luca, too, I tell myself. Not now, but soon.
I am goddamn elated.
And then, my gaze lands on Vince, and my heart sinks. It’s not that he’s smiling; it’s the way he’s smiling, like a man gripping the pin on a grenade.
“Dr. Martín,” he says, clearing his throat and motioning to the rest of the room. “Perhaps you could share your other project with the group.”
Annie’s head whips in my direction, her attention pressing like heat to my cheek.
I stare at him intently. Don’t do it, Vince. Don’t do it. “I think we’ve taken enough of their time today, Dr. Barker.” Shifting my attention away from him, I address the room. “Thank you for coming, everyone. We’ll—”
“On the contrary.” He rises to stand behind me, walking around to the front of the table. “You’ve certainly given us all a lot to digest today, but I do think it’s important that everyone here have all the information before making any decisions.”
“There’s more?” Dr. Aubert asks. “More than the BioVIVE?”
“Vincent,” I hiss, but it’s too late.
My eyes fall closed as the next words rocket from his mouth: “Dr. Martín has spent the better part of the morning talking of medical miracles, but I’d like to hear her explain her real reason for being at BioNEX: resurrection.”
4 EMERY
Okay… even I admit it sounds questionable when you just blurt it out like that.
Fucking Vince.
After an interminable moment of deafening silence, where the board members at the table look at each other in question, and the ones over video do that peering-forward thing like they can see dimensionally into the conference room, they all turn their focus on me.
Waiting.
When I can’t seem to form an actual sentence, Vince elaborates, “Emery’s team has been covertly working on a compound meant to initiate hypothermia, prolong artificial cardiovascular function, and essentially bring deceased mammals back from the dead using the BioVIVE.”
Which is why I spend the next eleven hours in locked-door meetings with shouting heads of state.
* * *
Perhaps I should back up.
Just so you don’t think my whole life is a lie, I did initially start out working on surgical lasers. But from my very first meeting with Leonard, this was the deal: As long as I continued to develop the BioVIVE, he’d continue to fund my real life’s work, a compound that can profoundly lower core body temperature, keep a heart artificially contracting, and maintain electrical signals in the brain for up to an hour, hopefully buying victims of accidents or injury enough time to get help.
It’s why I agreed to this life in the first place. My entire career, all I’ve ever wanted is to spare someone else what I lived through.
But now…? Fucking Vince.
“I can’t believe I was worried about Leonard when Vince was right there. I should have known,” Annie says from my small office couch. She’s dressed in a bright pink pencil skirt and a cream blouse secured at the top with a knotted men’s tie. Her outfit says cool and trendy, fun but professional. Her posture says she is contemplating a murder and deciding where to hide the body. “That smug little rat. This is exactly why overconfidence is number twenty-eight on the Ick List.”
Annie’s Ick List is an ever-changing catalog of things men do/say/own that immediately rule them out as possible romantic partners. The total was up to seventy-six at last count, and includes big things, obviously, but also random and indefensible actions like no-show socks (or, as Annie calls them, socklettes), water shoes, air guitar (see also: finger guns), frowny-face emojis during text fights, listing height in a professional bio, engine revving at stoplights, natural deodorant, and the sight of any man treading water, ever.
It’s probably why she’s single and rarely ever dates. Though watching me attempt to juggle two lives unsuccessfully might also have something to do with it.
“I admit this situation isn’t ideal,” I say, stifling a nervous laugh, “but when you really think about it, it’s not all bad. After everyone calmed down, the billionaires were pretty stoked.”
“Give me one example of a billionaire being stoked about anything that ended up being good for the rest of us.” She throws up her hands. “We are on the verge of a potential trade war with France, Emery.”