PLAYING DIRTY WITH THE HOT CEO

chapter 2

“He started the company not long after leaving university. You know that Mack Hart created New Zealand’s fastest supercomputer?”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“Well, Titus works with him in developing Artificial Intelligence. At the moment they’re also working with Elizabeth on an IVF project. Something to do with using AI to choose the best embryos or something. Elizabeth did explain it to me, but it went a bit over my head.”

My brother’s fiancée, Elizabeth Tremblay, is a chemist who runs her own pharmaceutical company. He told me about her IVF project the last time I talked to him, a few weeks ago. “Didn’t they get an offer of some serious funding from an English company?”

“Yeah,” Chrissie says, “and they wanted Elizabeth to move to the UK and head the project from there, but she decided not to go. That’s why Titus is over there. He’s meeting with the company to discuss it.”

I blink. “Wait, what? He’s here, in England?”

“Yeah,” Chrissie says. “Sorry, I assumed you knew.”

“No! I had no idea. Where is he?”

“Don’t know. London, I’m guessing. When Elizabeth turned Acheron down—that’s the name of the pharmaceutical company—they asked Titus if he’d spearhead the project instead. They want him to move there for two years, but obviously he has his own company to run, so I guess he’s trying to talk them out of it while keeping the money.”

“How much is the funding?” Evie asks.

“Oliver said it was five hundred million dollars,” I reply.

“Wow. That’s a lot to turn down. Mind you, I think he’s a billionaire. He could just pay for it himself.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Chrissie says, amused. “He’s like Dad and Hux—a lot of their money is tied up in stocks and shares. Besides which, I think Acheron is promising more funding if the research goes well.”

“Hence Titus’s trip, I guess,” Evie says.

“I still don’t understand why he wants to talk to me,” I comment.

Evie shrugs. “You might be the only person he knows over there.”

“I doubt it,” Chrissie says. “He’s got a lot of connections. All joking aside, he’s big news in the AI industry. Have you heard ofAtamai Tuatahi?” When we shake our heads, she continues, “It’s the Aotearoa AI Summit. It features leading industry speakers, panel discussions, all that kind of thing. It’s a huge event.”

“He went to it?” I ask.

“He was the keynote speaker last year.”

“Oh.” Now I’m impressed.

“He also spoke at a conference on Robotics and AI in Melbourne, another one in Toronto, and the AI Summit in Seoul. He’s big news in the industry.”

“Didn’t you snog him at Hux’s twenty-first?” Evie wants to know.

I blush. “Might have. That was a long time ago, though, before he became so intimidating.”

“He’s not that scary,” Evie says. “I chatted to him at Mack’s wedding on the yacht. He got drunk, knocked over Mack’s grandmother’s wine glass, then fell asleep and snored for the rest of the night. They left him there when everyone went to bed, and he was still there in the morning, apparently, covered in dew.”

I chuckle. “Sounds like he needed a rest.”

“He works hard,” Chrissie says. “Twelve to fourteen-hour days usually, like Mack.”

“So what’s he like?” I ask curiously. “I remember him being really tall and kinda gorgeous.”

“He’s still tall and gorgeous,” Evie says with a smile. “He plays a lot of rugby.”

“Didn’t he trial for the Auckland Blues at university?”

“Yeah. They wanted to sign him, but he said no because he thought it’d take him away from his studies.”

“I partnered him at a tennis tournament in January,” Chrissie states. “I wasn’t anywhere near his league. He could have won if he’d had a better partner, but he was very kind about it and said it was his fault because his serve was off.”

“That was nice,” I say.

“He’s a lovely guy,” Evie replies, “when you get him talking. It takes a bit of doing. He’s quiet and sorta brooding. Elizabeth said he’s like the Dark Knight without the cape.”

That makes me laugh.

“I don’t think he’s moody,” Chrissie says, “I think he’s just preoccupied, you know? He’s like Mack—all he thinks about is work.”

“Like Mack used to be,” Evie corrects. “Now he’s met Sidnie, he has other things on the brain.”

My lips curve up. “She’s managed to drag him away from Marise?” I know that Mack was obsessed with his supercomputer.

“Amazing what the power of the p***y can do,” Chrissie states. “From what I’ve heard, the two of them hardly get out of bed.”

I grin. “So is Titus dating?”

“Don’t think so,” Evie says. “He went out with a girl called Maisey, but Hux said that Titus told him she talked all the time—even during s*x. I mean… Jeez. Poor guy.”

“I thought most men liked dirty talk,” I say, amused.

“No, apparently she used to list what she needed at the supermarket.”

Chrissie and I dissolve into giggles. “Not so bad if it’s whipped cream,” I comment. “Less interesting if it’s bleach for the loo.”

“Loo,” Evie echoes with a chuckle. “You sound more British each time we speak to you.”

“Still enjoying it there?” Chrissie asks. She says the same thing every time we have a conversation.

“Yes, but I’m looking forward to coming home for a bit.”

I don’t like being too effusive about the UK when I’m talking to them, as I know they miss me, but the truth is that I love my job in the tiny primary school, and I adore the picturesque village I live in. There are a lot more people in the UK—sixty-seven million compared to New Zealand’s five million, and the countries are a similar size—but most of New Zealand’s population is concentrated in the biggest cities, and so traffic and overcrowding is as much of a problem there as it is in the UK.

But the most important thing is that I love being surrounded by history. In New Zealand, the oldest building is Kemp House in the Bay of Islands, which was constructed in 1821. In the UK there are prehistoric, Roman, Saxon, Viking, and Medieval buildings. My degree is in history, and it’s a dream come true to be able to wander around castles and churches in my spare time.

“Mum and Dad will be pleased to see you,” Evie says.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to seeing them, too.”

“Once more with feeling,” Chrissie says wryly.

I scrub at a mark on the bottom of my keyboard and don’t reply.

“Are you going to see Dad?” Evie asks.

I don’t want to. But I do want to go to Oliver’s wedding, and to see my mother and sisters and the friends I left behind, so I’m going to have to see him at some point.

I don’t like talking to them about it, though, because I know they don’t fully understand why I feel the way I do. It’s not their fault. I haven’t told them everything.

“Can we change the subject?” I ask.

They exchange a glance, but Evie says, “Okay, how are Gran and Grandpa?”

“They’re great.” Our mother comes from England, and much of her family still lives there. “Gran’s taken up pottery making. I’ve got odd-shaped bowls all over the house. Grandpa caught a thirteen-pound bass last week. I’m guessing he sent you a photo.”

“I think he sent one to everyone in New Zealand,” Chrissie says.

I laugh. “He was very proud of it.”

“When’s your flight to New Zealand?” Evie asks.

“A week Wednesday. Third of August.”

“Have you got anything planned until then?”

“Nope,” I say cheerfully. “It’s been a hectic term, and the trip’s going to be busy, so I’m taking it easy. Reading, some sightseeing, and lots of cream teas!” And panicking about seeing Dad again, obviously.

Chrissie clears her throat. “And… what about you-know-who?”

“Yeah,” Evie says, “has Voldemort gotten the message yet?” Her attempt to make light of my breakup with Jason doesn’t hide her concern.

My smile fades, and I look away, across the lawn to where a thrush is trying to pull a resisting worm from the grass. There must be something about me that makes men think I’m weak and helpless and easily controlled. I’m not as small as Oliver’s fiancée, who’s tiny. I’m five-foot-five. But I am slender and have a girlish figure, and I can easily pass for seventeen or eighteen, even though I’m twenty-five now. I broke up with Jason over three months ago, but he’s refusing to take no for an answer.

“I’m working on it,” I tell them.

My sisters fall silent for a moment, though, and I know they don’t believe me. I can feel their worry seeping through the screen.

“Have you been to the police?” Evie asks.

“Not yet. I will, if it gets worse.”

“Did you contact that helpline I sent you?”

“Yes,” I say, although I haven’t.

Evie glares at me. “I wish you’d do as you’re told.”

I poke my tongue out at her. “Yes, Mum.”

“You shouldn’t make light of it,” she tells me. “These things can turn serious very fast.”

I don’t reply, because I can’t argue with her when she deals with problems like this on a daily basis in her job. I shouldn’t have told her, because now they’re both worried.

Jason has never been violent, he’s just persistent in sending me texts and messages on social media. Nothing threatening, and no d**k pics or anything. If I were to show anyone else the messages, they’d look innocuous—he chats about his day, talks about movies and music he thinks I’d like, sends me funny memes and jokes, and occasionally asks me out. Whatever Evie says, I can’t help but think that the police would wonder why I hadn’t dealt with it myself rather than run to them—surely they have more serious problems to deal with?

“Enough about me,” I say cheerfully. “What are you two up to?”

Evie tells us about a training course she’s being sent on, and Chrissie chats for a bit about the school inspection she’s preparing for. We talk until my timer goes off to say the bread’s ready, and then we say goodbye, excited to see each other soon.

I take my laptop inside, retrieve the bread from the oven, then glance at my phone as it buzzes again. This time it is a text from Jason, and I pull it up with a sigh.

Don’t suppose you want to go to the cinema this evening?he asks.

I answer with:No thank you.

He comes back immediately:Come on. I know you want to see that new sci-fi.

I feel a surge of irritation. How do you convince someone it’s over? I suppose I could block him, but it feels like a massive overreaction. I don’t want things to turn nasty. I just want him to leave me alone.

I turn off my phone, leave it on the counter, and go out into the sunshine with a book. I’m not going to think about him again. I’m going to think about Titus and Sir Richard.

Smiling, I open my book and begin to read.