Marise smiled softly, tucking that fact away. “He’s lucky.”
Kathleen gave a half-shrug. “He’s doing his PhD. I needed someone to help.”
They lapsed into silence again. Marise didn’t want to push her further—not tonight. Not after this. But something inside her, curiosity, affection, maybe something more dangerous, urged her to leave on a better note.
After they finished dining, they strolled down the street window-shopping before Marise hailed a cab to take Kathleen home. She walked her to the door and waited while Kathleen found her keys.
Her gaze flicked up to Marise’s before she inserted it into the lock. “I’m glad you came,” she said a little shyly.
“So am I.” Marise stepped a little closer, careful not to crowd her. “And I’m really pleased you talked to me. About everything.”
Kathleen gave a small nod, but her lips parted slightly.
Marise reached up gently, one hand resting against Kathleen’s cheek, her thumb brushing beneath her eye. “I’m not going to push,” she said softly. “But... may I?”
Kathleen didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull back either.
So Marise leaned in—slowly and carefully—and kissed her.
Just a brush. A moment of warmth. And to her surprise, Kathleen didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen or pull away.
She returned it hesitantly, with a little pressure of her own.
When they pulled apart, Kathleen’s breath hitched, but she was smiling. “Goodnight, Veronica,” she said.
“Goodnight, Kathleen.”
Marise walked away into the night, her steps slow, a warm feeling she didn’t expect.
She got back to the hotel after midnight. The city outside her window glowed with its usual indifference and she toed off her heels, and dropped onto the armchair with a long sigh. Her laptop was still open on the desk where she’d left it.
A pulsing green dot blinked in the corner of the screen.
Incoming mail.
She opened it. Encrypted.
Marise sat up, the warmth of the evening bleeding quickly into something sharper. She keyed in the code and waited.
The message unspooled in cold, clinical lines:
No verified intel received.
Status request: progress on subject's proprietary research.
Our window is closing. Reaffirm deliverables.
We expect an update within 72 hours. Do not disappoint us.
No signature. A timestamp, enough to chill her spine.
Marise closed the message and leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled against her lips.
She was under no illusion that they were getting impatient. Next message will be a warning.
For a long minute, she stared at the wall, mind racing.
Kathleen had opened the door a little. But not enough. Not for what the client wanted. Not for what they were paying for. She needed to deliversomethingsoon. So, she typed into thecomputer,Knowles isn’t ready to share her research yet. It’s not ready. Needs to be stabilized.Satisfied, she hit the send button.
