Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Hello. Anybody home?”
With a jerk, she twisted back around and grabbed the front of her throat. “Jesus!”
“I’m not trespassing.” Gus St. Claire thumbed over his shoulder. “Your door was open, and I’ve just said your name three times in a row. My next move was to start singing—a travesty you’ve saved us both from enduring.”
C.P. blinked. And in spite of the fact that her head of research and development was speaking English to her, she had to sift through the four languages she was fluent in to figure out which one to reply with.
Gus put his hands on his hips. “So you’ve been told the results, huh. And about how he’s not changing his mind about the trial.”
As her eyes shot to the phone, Gus went over to the bar that was set up underneath her favorite orange-and-yellow Mark Rothko.
“Oh, my God, Phalen,” he said over his shoulder, “I would love a fucking drink. Thank you. You’re a great hostess, anybody ever tell you that?”
With a theatrical show, he spooned some ice cubes into a squat glass and doused the collection with enough Herradura Suprema to put out a good-sized fire. He drank at least half of the tequila on his way to sit in the chair on the opposite side of her desk, but no problem. He had the prescience to bring the bottle with him.
Setting down the fountainhead of his refills, he crossed his legs ankle to knee.
Swirl. Swirl. Swirl—siiiiiiiiiip. “Ahhhhh. Top-shelf as always. Hats off to you, Phalen. You’ve got excellent taste.”
C.P. Phalen cleared her throat. Then…
“Not much to say, huh.” Gus took another long drink. “Don’t blame you. Yes, testing Vita-12b in vivo is our next step, but I’m not going to force Daniel to do it. Ethically, I am his treating physician and that relationship has to come before—hello?”
She tried to focus as Gus waved a hand in her direction. “I’m sorry.”
“Look, we’ll find our patient. It’s just not going to be Daniel.”
“Not him.” C.P. nodded. “You’re right.”
Tilting to the side, he poured himself another healthy serving. “I told you last week, I still think we should reach out to some national programs. MD Anderson. Mayo. Cleveland Clinic. Everyone knows me and there are ways of being discreet—”
“No,” she said as she snapped to attention. “It will get out. Those patients are registered into systems that track, you know that.”
“Then what are you suggesting. All this work has been for nothing?”
She watched him finish what was in his glass, and then pour a second refill. “Are you driving home?”
Gus raised his glass. “I’d tell you my Tesla will do that for me, but that’s a bad joke, isn’t it.”
“You can’t drive drunk.”
“Who said I’m leaving? And no, I will not perform any official duties in the lab. My plan is to take this bottle with me when I go—and you’re going to let me have it because you give me anything I want around here. I’m going to go to my office and finish it while I play Call of Duty until I pass out. I’ll be sober by tomorrow morning—and yes, I even have a change of clothes down there. Ya welcome.”
“Thank you.”
As his brows dropped down over his dark eyes, Gus shifted forward in his seat. “Phalen.”
As her eyes shot back to him, she wasn’t aware of having looked away. “What.”
“When we started this—when you hired me for this job—I was in charge of the labs and the science. You provided the money and the privacy. We both agreed that we’d take it all the way, and you told me that the runway to patient trials was clear. So here we are. We’re at the runway and you’re putting up roadblocks. For a woman who’s dodging the FDA, I’m surprised you’re trying to play neat and tidy all of a sudden. I can get us the clinical partners, and you know better than anybody that money buys silence—plus if you’re worried about adverse outcomes, I will personally ensure the safety of the subjects.”
C.P. rubbed the back of her neck. “I need a little more time. I’ll get you your patient one—”
“And what about after that? Patient two? Three? Ten?” His stare glowed with all kinds of no-bullshit. “Even if Daniel volunteered, we need others.”
Glancing down to the floor, she pictured the lab. All those scientists, doctors, researchers.
“Goddamn it, Phalen… you didn’t actually believe we’d get here, did you. What the hell did you think I’ve been doing in that facility of yours?” He knocked his glass on her desk to get her attention. “This is my life’s work. I’m not going to give up…”
Gus’s voice drifted off. And then he collapsed back in the chair with such force, he splashed some tequila on the carpet. “You’re selling us, aren’t you.”
C.P. shook her head. And then said remotely, “I do have three international partners who are interested. One of them could, in theory, take Vita and pipeline it through their R&D using our data. European approval for clinical trials could occur, and then we could leverage that to get through the US barriers—”