Our Love Was the Experiment

The first time Evadne Wren met Caelith Voss, she committed three unforgivable mistakes. The first was arriving late for the most important job interview of her life. The second was spilling coffee on a man whose suit probably cost more than everything she owned. The third was looking him directly in the eyes and telling him he had the personality of a frozen corpse. In her defence, the third mistake happened before she discovered who he was. Unfortunately, discovering his identity did absolutely nothing to improve her situation. But that was getting ahead of the story. At 8:43 on a Monday morning, Evadne was running down the pavement of Aurelian City's financial district with one broken shoe, a half-empty cup of coffee, and approximately seven minutes to save her future. "Move, move, MOVE!" She darted between two businessmen, narrowly avoided a woman walking an enormous white dog, and nearly collided with a cyclist who shouted something deeply uncomplimentary after her. "Sorry!" she called over her shoulder. The cyclist raised a hand. Evadne raised her coffee in apology. A drop splashed onto her blouse. She stared at it while running. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect." The building ahead of her seemed to grow taller with every step. VANTHERON INDUSTRIES. Thirty-seven floors of black glass, silver steel, and the kind of wealth that made ordinary people feel like they had accidentally wandered into somebody else's world. The company's name was engraved above its entrance in enormous silver letters. News channels frequently filmed outside the building, and financial magazines regularly featured its founder on their covers. Caelith Voss. Thirty-two years old. Billionaire. Chief executive. Business genius. And, according to several interviews Evadne had read the previous night, an exceptionally difficult man to work for. One former employee had described him as brilliant. Another had called him terrifying. A third had simply written, Never make a mistake in front of him. Evadne had read that last comment twice. Then she had applied for a research assistant position at his company anyway. She needed the money. Her rent was overdue, her savings were practically nonexistent, and the small design business she had hoped to establish had collapsed before it had properly begun. The position at Vantheron paid enough to give her room to breathe. It also offered access to the company's advanced research division, which fascinated her more than she cared to admit. Evadne loved understanding how things worked. Machines. Materials. Strange inventions. Puzzles that made other people surrender in frustration. As a child, she had once dismantled her father's alarm clock because she wanted to understand why it made noise at a particular time. She had successfully identified the mechanism. She had never successfully reassembled the clock. Her father had been furious. Evadne had considered the experiment a partial success. Now, standing outside the headquarters of one of the world's most secretive technology companies, she had a feeling her curiosity would eventually get her into trouble. She just hadn't expected it to happen before nine in the morning. She hurried through the revolving doors. The lobby was enormous. White marble gleamed beneath her feet. Suspended lights illuminated the ceiling, and a wall of glass revealed the city skyline beyond. Employees crossed the polished floor with the confidence of people who had never worried about whether their bank cards would be declined at a supermarket. Evadne glanced down at herself. Cream blouse. Dark skirt. Second-hand handbag. One broken heel. She closed her eyes briefly. "Please, God. Just let me get through this interview." Then she opened them and marched toward reception. A woman with perfectly arranged dark hair sat behind the desk. "Good morning. How may I help you?" "I'm here for an interview. Evadne Wren." The receptionist typed her name into the computer. Her expression changed. "Your appointment was scheduled for eight thirty." "Yes. I know." "It is now eight forty-five." "I also know that." The receptionist looked at her. Evadne offered an apologetic smile. "I have an excellent understanding of time. Unfortunately, time and I are currently experiencing some disagreements." The woman did not smile. "Identification, please." Evadne handed it over. After checking her details, the receptionist returned the card and pointed toward a bank of elevators. "Twenty-second floor. Human Resources. They may still be able to accommodate you." "Thank you." "And Miss Wren?" Evadne turned. "Yes?" "Please refrain from making jokes during your interview." Evadne's smile froze. "Was I making jokes?" The receptionist stared at her. "Apparently, yes." Evadne hurried away before her mouth could cause any further damage. She reached the elevators and pressed the button. One set of doors opened almost immediately. She slipped inside. Then she noticed the man standing at the opposite end of the elevator. And promptly forgot how to behave like a normal human being. He was tall. Not merely tall, but the sort of tall that made the space around him seem smaller. His shoulders were broad beneath a perfectly tailored black suit, and his dark hair was brushed neatly away from his forehead. His features were sharp and striking, his jaw clean-shaven, his expression unreadable. He held a phone in one hand and a slim black folder in the other. There was nothing particularly unusual about the way he stood. And yet something about him suggested that the entire world had been designed to accommodate his existence. Evadne shifted her handbag higher on her shoulder. "Good morning." He glanced at her. His eyes were pale grey. Not blue-grey. Not ordinary grey. The colour of winter skies just before a storm. He gave the smallest nod. Then returned his attention to his phone. Evadne stared at the floor numbers. One. Two. Three. She needed twenty-two. He had pressed twenty-seven. Naturally. She tried not to look at him. Unfortunately, silence made her uncomfortable, and being trapped in a small space with a handsome stranger made her unusually aware of every second that passed. She glanced at his reflection in the polished metal doors. He looked as though smiling required a signed agreement, three witnesses, and permission from his legal department. Evadne pressed her lips together. Don't say anything. For once in your life, Evadne, exercise restraint. The elevator passed the seventh floor. She lasted another four seconds. "Do you ever smile?" His thumb stopped moving across his phone. Slowly, he raised his head. "What?" Evadne's stomach dropped. Excellent. Wonderful. You've done it now. "Nothing." "You asked me a question." "I ask myself questions sometimes." "Apparently." She blinked. Was that sarcasm? From this man? Interesting. "I was just wondering," she continued, because apparently she had learned absolutely nothing from the situation, "whether you ever smile." His gaze moved over her face. "Why?" "Curiosity." "Find something else to be curious about." Evadne stared at him. Then she laughed. Not loudly. Just a small, surprised laugh that escaped before she could stop it. He did not laugh with her. "You're serious?" "Usually." "That must be exhausting." His expression hardened. The elevator passed the tenth floor. Evadne suddenly became fascinated by the emergency button. She had met unfriendly people before, but this man seemed to have turned unfriendliness into a professional discipline. Perhaps he was having a terrible morning. Perhaps someone had stolen his car. Perhaps he had discovered that his entire company had gone bankrupt. Although, judging by his suit, he probably owned enough money to purchase several bankrupt companies before breakfast. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I hope your day improves." "Why?" "Because it seems to be going badly." He looked at her for a long moment. Then his eyes dropped to her broken shoe. "Clearly, yours is going exceptionally well." Evadne followed his gaze. She looked at the broken heel. Then back at him. "Touché." For the first time, something almost resembling amusement passed through his eyes. It disappeared so quickly that she wondered whether she had imagined it. The elevator reached the fourteenth floor. Evadne shifted her weight. Her shoe slipped against the polished floor. She caught herself against the wall. The movement caused her handbag to swing forward, striking the side of the coffee cup she had been holding. The lid popped loose. Time slowed. Evadne watched the coffee rise into the air. A beautiful, horrifying arc of brown liquid sailed directly toward the man beside her. She reached for the cup. Missed. The coffee landed across his white shirt. Silence. Absolute, catastrophic silence. Evadne looked at the stain. Then at his face. The man slowly lowered his phone. His expression was so controlled that she would have preferred shouting. Shouting suggested emotion. This man looked as though he were considering whether the legal system permitted murder under exceptional circumstances. "Oh," Evadne whispered. He stared at her. She swallowed. "I can explain." "Can you?" "Possibly." "Possibly?" "I'm still examining the evidence." His eyes narrowed. Evadne wanted to crawl into her handbag and remain there until retirement. She pulled out a packet of tissues. It contained three tissues. She offered them to him. He looked at the tissues. Then at her. "Do you genuinely believe that will solve this problem?" "No. But it might communicate the depth of my regret." He took the tissues. Not because he seemed grateful, but because the coffee was beginning to run down his shirt. Evadne reached forward instinctively to help. He stepped back. At that exact moment, the elevator jerked. She stumbled. Her hand caught his jacket. His free arm shot around her waist to prevent her from falling. For one brief, ridiculous second, she was pressed against him, her fingers gripping his lapel and her face only inches from his. He smelled faintly of cedarwood and something clean and expensive. She looked up. He looked down. Neither spoke. His eyes were even more unsettling at close range. And beneath their coldness, Evadne noticed something she hadn't expected. Exhaustion. Not the kind that came from a long day. Something deeper. Something that made him look like a man who hadn't allowed himself to rest in years. Then he released her. "Are you finished?" Evadne straightened her blouse. "With falling over? I sincerely hope so." He looked at her for another second. Then he pressed a button. The elevator stopped at the twenty-seventh floor. The doors opened. Three employees were waiting outside. The moment they saw him, their expressions changed. "Good morning, Mr. Voss." Mr. Voss. Evadne's heart stopped. One of the employees looked at the coffee stain. His mouth opened slightly. Then he looked at Evadne. She looked back. The man beside her stepped out of the elevator. "Have the maintenance team inspect this elevator immediately," he said to the waiting employees. "And find out why the recruitment department is allowing unregistered visitors into restricted floors." "Yes, sir." He turned toward Evadne. "Miss Wren." She stiffened. He knew her name. Of course he knew her name. She had told him earlier. Still, hearing it in that voice made her wish the floor would open beneath her. "Mr. Voss," she managed. His expression did not change. "Try to avoid destroying anything else while you're here." Evadne's embarrassment suddenly gave way to indignation. "With all due respect, sir, the elevator moved unexpectedly." "Elevators generally do." "Then perhaps your elevator should consider moving more responsibly." The employees looked horrified. Caelith stared at her. For a moment, nobody breathed. Then he leaned slightly toward her. "Let me give you some professional advice, Miss Wren." She swallowed. "Please do." "If you intend to work in my company, learn when to remain silent." His eyes flicked briefly toward the coffee stain. "And try not to spill anything on your employer." He turned and walked away. Evadne watched him disappear through a pair of glass doors. Then she slowly lowered her head. "Oh, I'm definitely getting this job." The nearest employee looked at her as though she had announced plans to set fire to the building. "Excuse me?" Evadne straightened. "I said I'm definitely not getting this job." She hurried toward the elevators. Behind her, one of the employees whispered something to another. She caught only three words. "That was him." She frowned. Of course it had been him. He had just walked away. Who else could they possibly be talking about? She decided she didn't care. She had an interview to survive. And if the universe had any sense of fairness whatsoever, it owed her at least one good thing that morning. The interview room was on the twenty-second floor. Evadne arrived with two minutes to spare. She had managed to repair her shoe with a strip of adhesive tape borrowed from a receptionist. Her blouse was slightly damp, her hair had escaped its ponytail, and she had spent the entire elevator ride practising answers to questions she suspected nobody would ask. A woman in a navy suit waited outside Conference Room Seven. "Miss Wren?" "Yes." "I'm Meredith Shaw, head of recruitment. Come with me." Meredith led her into the room. Three people sat around a long table. Two men. One woman. All wore serious expressions. Evadne sat down. She folded her hands in her lap. She smiled. Nobody smiled back. Perhaps smiling is prohibited in this building. Meredith opened a folder. "Your application is unusual, Miss Wren." "Unusual in a good way, I hope." "That depends on your definition of good." Evadne decided she disliked that answer. Meredith continued. "You have a background in design, independent research, and materials analysis. Yet you applied for a research assistant position in our advanced development division." "Yes." "Why?" Because she needed the money. Because she loved understanding how things worked. Because the company's research projects fascinated her. Because she had spent the previous six months feeling as though her life had become a room with no doors, and she desperately needed someone to show her an exit. Instead, she said, "Because I believe good questions are often more valuable than easy answers." The woman beside Meredith looked up. Meredith paused. "Explain." Evadne leaned forward. "If someone gives me a problem, I don't want to memorise the solution. I want to understand why the problem exists in the first place. Otherwise, I'm just learning how to fix the same mistake repeatedly." One of the men made a note. Meredith studied her. "And what would you say is your greatest weakness?" Evadne almost laughed. Where would you like me to begin? "Sometimes, I become too curious." "How so?" "If something doesn't make sense, I struggle to leave it alone." "Even when you're instructed to?" Evadne hesitated. There were correct answers to interview questions. She knew that. She also knew that lying about her personality would only create problems later. "Especially when I'm instructed to." The man beside Meredith stopped writing. For the first time, someone in the room smiled. It was the woman. Meredith closed the folder. "Thank you, Miss Wren. We will contact you if you are selected." Evadne nodded. She stood. "Thank you for your time." She reached the door before Meredith spoke again. "One more question." Evadne turned. "Yes?" "Have you ever heard of Project Eidolon?" The name meant nothing to her. "Should I have?" Meredith watched her carefully. "No. Of course not." Something about the way she said it made Evadne uncomfortable. "Is it one of your research projects?" Meredith's expression became unreadable. "Your interview is over, Miss Wren." Evadne stared at her. Then she nodded slowly. "Right. Of course." She left the room. But as the door closed behind her, one thought followed her into the corridor. Why had a routine job interview suddenly become so strange? And why had Meredith looked frightened when she mentioned a project Evadne had never heard of? At 11:17 that morning, Caelith Voss stood alone in his private office. His shirt had been replaced. His suit jacket hung over the back of a chair. On his desk sat a glass of water he hadn't touched. He was staring at a photograph displayed on his computer screen. A young woman stood in a garden, smiling at someone outside the frame. Long blonde hair. Fair skin. Bright, expressive eyes. A small scar near her left eyebrow. Evadne Wren. Caelith leaned closer to the screen. "No," he whispered. He opened another file. Then another. Photographs. Medical records. A scanned document bearing a red security classification. He read the first line. His jaw tightened. The second line made him go completely still. Then he reached for his phone. "Get Dr. Halden on the line." His assistant responded immediately. "Yes, sir." "And lock down the lower research levels." A pause. "All of them?" Caelith looked at the photograph again. "All of them." "May I ask why?" "No." He ended the call. For several seconds, he remained motionless. Then he opened a file that had been sealed six years earlier. The screen flashed. PROJECT EIDOLON SUBJECT A: EVADNE WREN STATUS: ACTIVE Below it was a final line of text. UNAUTHORIZED CONTACT DETECTED. Caelith stared at the words. He had spent six years believing the project was over. Six years believing the people responsible had disappeared. Six years believing that a particular truth would remain buried as long as he never looked for it. Then Evadne Wren had walked into his elevator, spilled coffee on his shirt, and looked at him as though he were just another arrogant man who needed to learn how to smile. She had no idea who he was. No idea what she had just awakened. And absolutely no idea that her appearance at Vantheron Industries had triggered an alert that hadn't sounded in six years. Caelith picked up his phone again. This time, he called a number he had sworn never to use. The person on the other end answered after the first ring. "She's here," Caelith said. Silence. Then a voice replied. "That isn't possible." Caelith looked at Evadne's photograph. "Apparently, it is." "Did she recognize you?" "No." "Did you speak to her?" He glanced at the coffee stain still faintly visible on his discarded shirt. "Unfortunately." The voice on the other end did not laugh. "Listen carefully, Caelith. You need to get her out of that building before sunset." "Why?" "Because if the system has identified her, the others will know." Caelith's expression hardened. "Who are the others?" The line went silent. "Hello?" Nothing. The call had disconnected. Caelith lowered the phone. Then his computer screen flickered. A new message appeared. No sender. No subject line. Just a single sentence. SHE HAS ALREADY MET YOU BEFORE. Caelith stopped breathing. A second message appeared beneath the first. THIS TIME, TRY NOT TO LET HER DIE. For the first time in six years, Caelith Voss felt something he could neither calculate nor control. Fear. He looked at the door. Somewhere on the twenty-second floor, Evadne Wren was probably complaining about her disastrous morning. She was probably telling herself that the billionaire was an arrogant, impossible man whom she would never have to see again. Caelith almost wished that were true. Because if the messages were real, then their meeting had never been an accident. And if the final warning meant what he feared it meant, the woman who had just spilled coffee on him was already in danger. He stood abruptly, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. He needed to find her. He needed answers. And, above all, he needed to know why a woman he had never met before had somehow become the centre of a nightmare that had begun six years ago. Behind him, the computer screen went black. Then one final line appeared. EXPERIMENT ONE: REUNION SUCCESSFUL. EXPERIMENT TWO: EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT INITIATED. NEXT PHASE: SEPARATION.