Chapter One
Today
The elevator doors slide open. I take a deep breath, cultivating every ounce of badass I can muster. Either I nail this interview and get this internship, or I slink back to Stanford for dull classes and three thousand miles between me and everything I love.
Here goes nothing.
The woman sitting behind the reception desk is pure New York City cool. Slick straight black bob. Sleek red dress. Perfect makeup.
"You must be Elizabeth Wilder. I'm Jasmine Lee, the office manager." She shakes my hand with a strong grip.
"Lizzy."
Jasmine smiles. "We mostly go by last
names here. It's a lot more formal than the Bay."
She leads me through the modern office. It's sleeker than a typical San Francisco startup. Modern art hangs next to huge windows. The room glows with the soft January light.
We stop in a corner office.
Jasmine motions for me to sit in the leather executive chair. "I'm going to leave you with this programming test. Then Mr. Marlowe is going to come in and ask you a few questions."
My stomach twists. Phoenix Marlowe is the company's CEO, a billionaire programming genius. How am I supposed to impress him?
"He's excited to meet you. He couldn't stop talking about your AI projects." She points to the monitor, now displaying a programming test. "Good luck."
She nods a goodbye on her way out the door.
The second it clicks shut, my attention shifts to the computer screen.
I get lost in the hard but doable questions.
Until I hear his voice.
That same voice I heard that night in San Francisco.
"I hope I haven't surprised you," he says.
That's him. It can't be possible, but that's him. I spin in my chair so we're eye to eye.
What the hell is Nick doing here?
"No," I say. "It's fine."
He closes and locks the door. His gaze drifts to the résumé in his hands. It's like he doesn't recognize me. Maybe he has one-night stands all the time. Maybe it meant nothing to him.
My head fills with the feeling of his body sinking into mine, the taste of whiskey on his lips, the smell of his cologne.
He's wearing the same cologne today.
His eyes flash with something. Anger, I think. He's hard to read.
It's something. Something bad.
He does recognize me. He must.
His voice is rough. "Who is Marie?"
I take a deep breath. "My middle name. And Nick?"
"Phoenix. My friends call me Nick."
"I didn't realize." I press my hand against the slick surface of the desk. "I'm sure this kind of thing has happened before."
His eyes narrow. "No."
"But you're very—"
"I don't go around fucking college students." He places my résumé on the desk and takes a seat behind it.
"I don't go around fucking billionaire programmers." My nostrils flare. My heart pounds. Anger fills my veins. As much as it hurts, meaning nothing to him, I need this opportunity. It's the only way I can stay near Kat. And Kat's the only person I trust. I clear my throat. "Can we start over?"
Frustration spreads across his face. "This project means everything to me."
"Your assistant, Ms. Lee—"
"She's not my assistant."
"Whatever she is, she told me how impressed you were by my board game bots. Is that true?"
"Yes." He stares at me like he's expecting me to back down.
I don't.
"Your programming skills are not up to the standards of Odyssey Industries. Your code is sloppy and inefficient."
"You didn't even look at my programming test."
He taps the monitor.
"You can see the test on your computer, can't you?"
Nick nods. His eyes meet mine, and his expression shifts. It's softer. "You're stubborn and overconfident."
"I am not." Objecting doesn't help my case. But he's wrong.
"I'd like to hire you, Ms. Wilder. You're the only candidate with any grasp of artificial intelligence." Nick stares back at me. "But there are other issues to consider."
"I fucked the boss, so I'm shit out of luck?"
His expression is impossible to read.
"Are you even going to deny it?" I will myself to stay logical. This is a good opportunity. Not worth wasting over a romantic connection, not when there are three million men in Manhattan.
It doesn't help.
I can't look at Nick for another second. How can this be the same man I met last September? That man was calm and collected, but there was warmth in his eyes. His voice was stern and strong, but it was caring too.
This guy is a narcissistic asshole.
I push myself out of my seat. "I'll spare you the awkwardness of explaining it to HR." I sling my purse over my shoulder and march to the door.
"Lizzy, wait."
That's not happening. Not when there's a tear welling up in my eye. This opportunity is everything to me and it's nothing to him.
There's no way I'm staying in New York.
Dammit, I'm not crying in front of him.
Head down, I rush to the elevator. Jasmine says a frantic goodbye, but I pretend I don't hear her.
There are footsteps behind me. I can't bring myself to turn and find out if they belong to Nick. I duck into the staircase and race all the way to the first floor.
I disappear into the Wall Street subway station.
My sister, Kat, lives with her fiancé Blake Sterling on the Upper East Side. He's wealthy. If I tell him about this internship, he'll offer me the money to stay in New York.
But I'm not accepting help from either of them. Kat spent the last four years taking care of me. For once, she's going to live her life. I'm going to stand on my own two feet. Even if it kills me.
I collapse on the modern black couch and scan my streaming options. All the sci-fi movies make me think about Nick's project. The Haley Bot (named for Hal, the evil computer in 2001: A Space Odyssey) is a virtual assistant far beyond any of its competitors. It's an amazing AI project. It's the best opportunity I'll ever have to learn about AI.
This internship is the only way I can stay in New York without dropping out of school.
I can swallow my pride, apologize, and convince Nick to keep our relationship professional.
But I'm not so sure I can be around him without melting into a pile of desire.
Chapter Two
Three months ago
Happy freaking birthday.
September in San Francisco sucked.
Everything in the Bay area sucked. My Stanford dorm room was tiny. My roommate hated me. Some of my classmates were receptive to my let's hang out and study suggestions, but none of them got me.
My friend from high school—the one who had moved to San Francisco to pursue a music career—was supposed to join me for a birthday dinner.
But her cancellation text sat there on my phone. Sorry, Lizzy. I can't make it. Happy Birthday XOXO.
Raindrops dotted my screen. I slid my phone back into my purse. To protect it. Or maybe myself. I wasn't good with feelings. Or disappointment. Code? Yeah. I could ace any test. But figuring out if the guy sitting next to me wanted to study or wanted to study? I had no idea how to do that.
I scanned the dark city. The downtown skyline looked less impressive up close. Like some cheap imitation of Manhattan. I never loved Manhattan the way Kat did, but I appreciated its prominence. New Yorkers made sense to be. The weird combination of preppy, laid back, smug, chill, and money-worshiping—the Bay made no sense to me.
I stepped under the red awning of a massive hotel. One with gold doors and clean windows.
There he was, all tall, dark, and handsome, standing on the sidewalk with a wide stance, his shoulders pulled back, his gaze on his cell phone.
Without a word, he slid his suit jacket off his shoulders and offered it to me.
A stranger offering me his coat.
That was an invitation, wasn't it?
Like those guys who raised their eyebrows after they said study.
My eyes fixed on his. They were dark. Like coffee. And just as rich and bold.
He was the perfect way to spend my birthday.
I could even flirt a little. In theory.
I stared back into his beautiful eyes. "I can't take your jacket."
"Why not?"
I rubbed my fingers over the fabric. It was a finely woven wool. Expensive. "I don't know you."
"I'm Nick."
We shook hands.
He was clearly rich and important. There was no way I
'd ever see him again. Better to give him my middle name.
"Marie." I slung the jacket over my shoulders. It was thick. Warm. And comforting in another way. It was a way to try on a role for the night. Marie, the confident, bold girl who accepts strangers' jackets and invitations for one-night stands.
"I'm going inside for a drink." He pulled the door open as if to invite me.
I nodded a thank you and followed him to a booth in the corner of the lounge.
The walls were cream, the lights were soft, the furniture was purple. It wasn't the kind of place I'd expect to see a guy like Nick.
His deep brown eyes fixed on mine. "What brought you into the city today?"
"How do you know I'm not a local?"
He gave me a long once-over. "People in San Francisco rarely wear—"
"Tight dresses and heels?"
"Not on this side of town."
"I got that impression." My gaze drifted to the dark carpet. "It's my birthday."
He looked back at me. "Is it?"
"What? You think that's a line I use to get guys to buy me drinks?"