Page 72 of CHOICE Lover
“I’ll be right there,” he interjects, his blood chilling. Why would Chryl think there’s something wrong with the Jerme trial? Its scan came back perfect an hour ago. Unless she’s using it to distract him.
Electra crosses her arms. “What’s in the closet, Chryl?” She turns her pointed—no, accusing—gaze on him.
Right as Chryl opens her mouth to answer, he laces his voice with authority, commanding, “Go. To. Your. Room.”
Chryl stomps her foot, scowling at Electra, but she doesn’t budge. Surely she doesn’t think he wants them to have a catfight over him.
“Or,” Electra butts in, “we could team up. You know, girl power, and you could tell me what’s in the closet. That would make me very happy.”
Chryl’s eyes narrow as if she’s contemplating her next move.
Fortunately, Electra has far less experience bending manupartners to her will compared to him. “Chryl, you have my attention now. Let me deal with Electra. I’ll be in there in a few short moments.”
Beaming, Chryl says, “Yes, Daddy!” He watches as she excitedly slams the door behind her before returning his attention to the now-fuming human woman.
“Deal with me?” Electra’s lips curls in a sneer.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know I didn’t mean that.”
She shakes her head. “What are you hiding, Res6?”
The brother I’m trying and possibly failing to resurrect.“Nothing,” he lies.
“Every time I feel like I’m getting closer to you, something like this happens.” She paces to her bedroom door and opens it.
He has the distinct feeling that if he lets her go through it, recovering from his latest screwup might be more than he can manage. He needs a good explanation. What about something related to their outings? “I have a surprise for you,” he blurts out as an idea strikes him.
Her brows lift.
At least she’s listening. He takes a calming breath, making a mental note to acquire two tickets. “I wanted to save it for a better moment, but I have tickets for a fantasy ball called Saturday Sirens this weekend.” He read about the event, but decided not to get tickets since he’d likely be dealing with a freshly awakened Jerme and an angry Electra.
She frowns. “What does that have to do with the problem in the closet?”
He shakes his head. “Our outfits. The dress I got for you has an electrical component. It keeps short-circuiting. I need to schedule a technician to come look at it before the event.”
Another mental note:procure a ball gown and tuxedo.
She plants her hands on her hips. “Can I see it?”
He chuffs. “What, and further ruinmy surprise?”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you.”
“Ah, well, you will when you see it,” he says, feigning a shaky confidence, and slips into his room. His back hits the door, and both Chryl and the body double stare at him. Ignoring them, he thinks the command to message his personal shopper about the formal attire, but his thoughts are so convoluted that he can’t put together a message.
That’s when he notices the closet door rattling.
“I told you,” Chryl says, twirling a lock of blonde hair.
There’s no way this should be happening. Panic has him jumping into action. He throws the closet door open. The trial is no longer attached to the electrode pad, and as he catches the convulsing body, he shoots Chryl a glare.
He hauls the seizing Jerme trial to the bed. Chryl helps him lay it down. “Chryl, there’s a medical kit under the sink. Get it.”
The body double sits in its chair, judging, as Chryl does as he asks. He props pillows around Jerme’s head, leaning his hip against him to keep him on the bed. Chryl sets the box down and opens the lid. He fishes out one of several preloaded syringes. It’s rare for a manupartner to seize upon activation; it happened more in the early research days when they were tinkering with their programming capacity. Still, he’s prepared. He injects the anticonvulsant, and Jerme stills.
He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.
“What’s wrong with it?” Chryl asks, taking the syringe and replacing the cap. She tosses it back into the medical kit.
