Lyla's blue eyes glared defiantly at Carlo as she bit her lip, standing her ground while slowly attaching the sensors to her head.
The monitor flickered to life, showing a blank graph with a faintly fluctuating line. She turned, hands braced on the table, leaning slightly forward.
“Go ahead,” she breathed deeply, “I’ll prove you wrong.”
In the next instant, she felt herself pulled into a firm embrace, spun around until she realized she was draped across Carlo’s lap. Her stomach pressed against his knees, legs dangling over the edge, forming a near-perfect 90-degree angle. The skirt she had carefully chosen for dinner now draped over her knees, its thin fabric tracing the curves of her body.
“How dare—”
"Smack!"
Carlo’s hand struck her backside. “Shout any louder, and I’m sure those
