Ted’s face lit up. "That's my wheelhouse. Sort of. I work with a lab that's developing experimental plants."
Marise feigned polite interest. "Really?"
"Yeah. It’s a bit niche and early stages."
Simon added, "Translation: he pokes plants with wires and hopes they don't die."
Ted ignored him. "My boss is the real genius. Dr. Kathleen Knowles. You might’ve heard of her."
Marise tilted her head to stare at him. “You kidding. Of course I’ve heard of her. She’s a legend. I read one of her published papers on self-organizing root matrices."
Ted looked impressed. "That one kind of got buried, but it was brilliant. Shit, woman, you really do read this stuff."
"Not only a pretty face," she quipped.
A smile blossomed over his face, a gleam of interest in his eye.
Marise leaned back, letting the conversation flow around her. This was going better than she’d hoped. Not only had she made contact, she’d done it in a way that felt natural. Ted was curious, and eager to talk. And he was taken with her. The more he talked, the more she could see how close he was to the research; enough to be useful.
But he was cautious. Even with a few gentle probes, he didn’t divulge what Kathleen was working on, or how far she had come.
She sipped her drink and smiled. That would come later when he knew her better. And she was going to pursue him.
Ted was the key to unlocking the door.
Marise got home after midnight, dropped her keys and bag on the small table and locked the door behind her. She’d had a surprising good time with the two PhD students. They had been fun with no agenda other than to enjoy themselves. The buzz from the beer was still with her, leaving her feeling pleasantly relaxed. She peeled off her jacket and wandered into the kitchen for some water. She pulled out her phone and sawAva had messaged. The notification was from Instagram in a photo tag. Marise opened it, blinking at the image on her screen.
There was Kathleen, standing on the deck of a boat, the city lights glimmering behind her like a postcard. She wore a floral dress and a shawl, with her arms folded in front of her. Beside her, Ava beamed at the camera, champagne glass aloft, pressed in close.
The caption read:Dinner cruise with this stunning creature@kathleenknowles #NightOnTheHarbour #BoatBabes #LangfordLife.
Below it, a carousel of images: the food, the skyline, Ava’s glittering heels, a blurry selfie of the two of them mid-laugh.
Marise stared at it.What the fuck!Kathleen had asked for Ava not her. A knot of jealousy twisted in her stomach. She zoomed in. Kathleen’s face was relaxed, her hair neatly done, her dress soft against the gleam of the harbour lights. She looked really pretty.
Ava was touching her. Called her "stunning," and likely flirted with her the whole fucking evening.
The post was typical Ava. Gregarious, ever-present on the socials. She posted everything, from her morning coffee to the inside of limousines, and frequently shared photos of her outings. A scrapbook of charm and champagne, though she only shared it with the other escorts. If Elise ever saw the posts, she would be furious—she valued discretion over everything.
Marise ran her thumb over the screen. Kathleen had asked for Ava—young beautiful, Ava.
Seething, she set the phone face down on the counter, and sat in the quiet. She had no claim; she knew that but it didn’t matter. She still hated the thought of Ava making her laugh, herhands on her. Ava was impossible to ignore. Marise had met her at Elise’s private luncheons, a weekly fixture for the Langford escorts, where wine flowed freely and alliances were made over fine food.
Ava had stood out. Vivacious, armed with a magnetic grin and a laugh that could turn heads. She was studying law at NYU and escorting to pay the bills. She claimed she could memorize a case file in the morning and charm a CEO by evening. And she did so effortlessly. Marise didn’t dislike her, but she didn’t entirely trust her.
Ava was the kind of woman who thrived on being noticed. She had a disarming blend of intellect and sparkle that made people lean in closer, and she used it without a qualm. She talked fast, laughed faster, and knew how to keep a room orbiting around her. Underneath the glossy surface was a sharp mind and a ruthless sense of self-preservation. She knew the power of performance, and she never let the mask slip for long.
Ava wasn’t dangerous, merely an opportunist. If Kathleen had chosen her for her date, Ava would make sure she made an impression. Someone as naïve as Kathleen wouldn’t have a hope against her charms.
The thought of them embracing made her nauseous.
For once in her life, Marise had no answers.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The alarm woke Kathleen.
She lay curled on the end of the bed, still in her floral dress, the shawl she’d worn coiled over the armchair. She stared out the window, remembering last night’s date.
