Page 39 of CHOICE Lover
What else does she need to explain to him? He seems to understand physical privacy besides the knocking thing, which she’s corrected. There’s probably something else, but she’ll have to figure it out later. At least something good came of their conversation: he didn’t push his opposition to her column. She just needs to give him time to come around to the idea—so he’llgive her some freedoms,as Tommy insultingly put it. Res6 doesn’t seem to see it that way; rather, he wants to keep her, and his company, from harm. That’s why she needs to show him how well she’s navigating the future.
They step out of the elevator and into a large glass box. A stunning blonde woman hops up from behind a desk. “I have your SAT ready, sir,” she says, moving to a keypad on the wall. When her hand presses into it, it beeps, recognizing her, and she punches in a command.
Past the glass enclosure, centrally located within a much larger cement room, is a platform that does a one-eighty. His private SAT appears, its door sliding open. The vehicle is much nicer than the onesmost MSP citizens use interchangeably. It keeps reminding her of a car from a movie she saw, but—“It’s like Bladerunner!” she remembers.
The woman has stepped up to her and is inspecting her like a zoo animal. “What’s a blade-runner?”
Res6 shrugs.
She raises her finger to Electra’s face. “May I?” She directs her question to Res6.
The obvious answer is no, but he says, “Sure.” Before Electra can smack the woman’s hand away, she’s running smooth fingertips over her cheeks. Oh God, hopefully this isn’t another advertising opportunity. Of everything that’s happened during the outings, future people’s inspection of her freckles is the worst part.
“They’re part of her skin?” she asks.
“Yes,” he supplies.
The woman huffs, like she’s confused.
Electra can only stand there dumbfounded. Why are people so fascinated with them? Though, come to think of it, has she seen a future person with her characteristic dusting of freckles?
“Why didn’t you replace her? You own the company.” As the woman says this, she runs a polished fingertip down Res6’s lapel.
Before Electra can think better of it, she blurts, “Oh my God, are you flirting with him? In front of me, his manufactured lover, no less.” She grabs his hand, lacing her fingers with his, and holds it up to the woman. “See.”
The woman frowns, which is satisfying. Serves her right for insulting Electra’s lovely freckles. It’s not like she would lash out for any other reason.
“Are you sure she isn’t malfunctioning? That happened with one of mine,” the woman says.
Res6 chuckles, squeezing Electra’s hand. “It wasn’t a CHOICElover was it? Such terrible news would surely ruin my night.”
There is hissing outside in the garage, and Electra gathers they’re waiting on some process to finish, but she’s laser focused on the woman. Blonde strands of hair fall into her face in an annoyingly sexy manner as she leans in, whispering, “If you want to recycle this one, I’d be happy to assist while you’re activating your next unit.”
She winks, and Electra is certain the future is melting her brain or she’s come down with some sort of syndrome, because a flame of what feels dangerously close to jealousy flares like a blowtorch. More like one of those little crème brûlée torches, but still.
Before she can consider her actions, she reaches out, tearing the woman’s hand away from Res6’s chest. His eyes widen in response, but Electra ignores him, turning to the woman. “Res6 asked me to keep random women from pawing at him. He’s very successful, so it happens a lot. Please behave.”
He has no idea how extensively she’s researched the strange phenomenon of the modern-day manupartner. She turns to him, saying, “You wanted me to do it just like that, right?” Then she beams at him. Why waste such a glorious moment to revel? That’s what he gets for using her for advertising.
The woman gapes, so astonished that Electra doesn’t need to fake her glee. She’s really only doing herself a favor. The last thing she needs is for Res6 to screw this woman in their unit—well,his unit—while she sits there on the couch watching mind-numbing videos explaining late modern era government systems. Not that she would mind otherwise. The jealousy thing is irrational. She’s misinterpreting her feelings since she’s been having so many lately. The “outings” that are actually dates can’t be helping.
Res6’s brows pinch, and he’s quiet for a beat too long. He seems to have an internal war with himself before finally coming to some determination, which makes her nervous. He nods to himself before reaching behind her to grab the end of her sleek ponytail. There’s agentle tug as he repositions her so she’s staring up at him. Then he steps into her space. It feels like a challenge, which makes her pulse race like it does every time he is this near. It’s startling but also—umm. Other things not worth mentioning. Who is this man?
“Just like that,” he says, voice dropping an octave.Oh God.He leans down, and she has to swallow as his heat surrounds her. His nose brushes against hers and lingers there. “I adore her freckles. Otherwise, she’d be too polished. Too manufactured. And that would bore me.”
He saysmanufacturedlike a dirty word, and she isn’t sure whose benefit it’s for since it almost undermines the entire point of his company. Her heart jumps to her throat, and things happen elsewhere in her body. When she swears he’s about to kiss her—and she thinks she’s either going to slap him or lean into it—he places a peck on her nose. She stands there stunned as he releases her hair. The same arm snakes around her shoulders, and he commands, “Come, darling, or we’ll be late.”
The woman lets out a swoony sigh as they walk away.
Well, that was something, wasn’t it? The spot on her nose that his lips brushed burns, and for some odd reason, she’s considering wearing a ponytail more often. How did he do that?
He leads her out of the glass box, tucks her into the humming SAT, and closes the door before going to his side. A minute later, they’re in the smog-dense air, zipping between towering gray buildings past bright neon signs, and moving through MagTrack interchanges so fast her head is spinning. The SATs really are wondrous, efficient machines. She always thought they’d be more like hovercars, like in The Fifth Element. It takes a moment for her to catch her bearings. Then she notices Res6 is laughing. Like full belly-clutching, laughing.
“What?” she demands.
“The look on your face was priceless,” he says.
She huffs indignantly. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”
