Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
And this is the right answer because his grin is wild. “Follow me.”
He gets up and walks to the door, so I follow. We go up his garden stairs and around to the front of the Trapp building. I try not to look at the railing where ‘the guy’ was sitting this morning. I do my best to wipe that whole experience from my mind.
But I can’t help but look.
And then I can’t help but pull up a mental image of my hand around his thick shaft and the way he came in my palm.
Mercer opens the door to the main level of Trapp and holds it for me. I nod my head at him—an automatic polite gesture—and step inside.
There are almost no lights on, and I have no idea where we’re going, so I stop just a few feet in.
Mercer puts a hand on my shoulder. “Wait here. I need to turn the lights on.” Then he slips away down the hallway I went into this morning. The lights come on and I look up.
Again with the amazing architecture. This ceiling is… art deco, or something. Not an expert. But New York has a lot of buildings like this and everyone calls it art deco, so whatever.
The building is a perfect square and the ceiling is coffered with… I have to pause and think about it for a moment. Because I was going to say squares, then rectangles—but it’s actually neither of those.
It’s a maze.
Then I look down at my feet. At the brain pieced out in mosaic tiles.
“It’s a little over the top,” Mercer says.
I glance up at Mercer and realize he’s watching my reaction to the building. “Makes sense, though. The brain is a maze.”
“The final frontier.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah. Wow. It’s funny that you should say that.”
“How come?”
“Because when I was a girl, well, I was always into science. Obviously. So I picked up this science magazine at the grocery store. I was… I dunno. Fifteen. And on the cover, that’s what it said. ‘The Brain: The Final Frontier.’” I smile at him. “I think that’s what started it.”
“A magazine?” He cocks an eyebrow at me.
I nod. “Yeah. I loved science, but I didn’t have a direction. That magazine made the brain sound like… Star Trek. The Final Frontier. It made it cool.”
“Were you an outcast, Nova?”
“No. Not really.” I point at him. “Ya know, for a man who called my name obnoxious and trendy this morning and decided to give me a new one, you don’t seem to have a problem using it.”
“Just because it’s obnoxious and trendy doesn’t mean I don’t like it.” He’s staring at me when he admits this, his eyes locked on mine.
In fact, he’s looking at me so intently, I want to turn away. It makes me a little uncomfortable. But I force myself to stare back.
Silas Mercer calls himself a control freak and ‘kind of a dick.’
Five minutes ago, I would’ve called that some kind of humble icebreaker.
But right now, I see it for what it was meant to be.
A warning.
“Well, if you want to call me Nova, go ahead. It’s my name, after all.”
His dark look fades a little. “Thanks. Maybe I will. When it’s appropriate.” He turns away. “Follow me. We’re on the second floor.”
When it’s appropriate. Hmm.
I ponder that as we walk up the stairs.
When would one’s given name be appropriate in this scenario? This scenario being work. This scenario being secret work. This scenario being secret work on a private island where given names are not appropriate.
I think that might’ve been an invitation.
There you go, Nova. Always looking for the dirty side.
That’s not even true. My fetish, for lack of a better word, has nothing to do with being dirty. I just find the dark side interesting, that’s all.
I like to explore it.
Especially in men. It fascinates me.
And this man has dropped several hints today that he likes the dark side too.
What am I supposed to think?
Keep your mind on work, how about that?
Why don’t you keep your mind on work and butt the fuck out of my business?
I’ve never asked anyone what their inner monologue is like. It’s not really a question that comes up. But mine has a mind of her own. Not literally, of course. That would make me crazy. I do realize these are all my thoughts. But I’ve always had this weird inner relationship with my own brain.
And, if I were telling the whole story about how I got interested in neuroscience, she would very much be a part of it.
But I won’t be putting that on any résumés.
Mercer leads me down a hallway that is only half lit. Every third chandelier is working. So it’s a very strange sensation to watch him disappear in the dark, then reappear in the light, only to disappear again.