Chapter 1

Becka

I sat outside Dr. Evan’s office waiting while she finished an advisee session with a freshman. I knew she was a freshman because she was in tears. I remembered that feeling, years ago, too far from home, afraid that any grade less than an A would equal flunking out of college, but, even working as hard as I could, had earned a C. In Psychology. My major. That seemed like a lifetime ago.
After another fifteen minutes, Dr. Evans got the student calmed down enough to have a conversation about her classes for next term, then sent her on her way. Walking the student to the door, a blond, waifish creature who didn’t look older than twelve, never mind the age of a college student, Dr. Evans smiled at me and welcomed me into her office.
“Bet you miss those days, huh, Becka?” she asked me, gesturing for me to have a seat in the chair next to her desk.
“Not even for a moment,” I laughed as I dropped my bag at my feet. “I don’t think any year of college was as hard as that first year.”
Dr. Evans nodded. She was my thesis advisor, a younger woman herself, probably in her early thirties, and very beautiful. She had long dirty blond hair that she wore tied back every day at work. She dressed to the nines, suits only, heels, the works. Sitting next to her, I was her virtual opposite. I had jet black hair that was too short for me to wear up; it hung in a bob and cut at angles to just below my chin. Dressing in jeans and a sweater was dressing up for me; my norm was yoga pants and a tank top or a sweatshirt if it was cold outside.
Dr. Evans hadn’t been my advisor in undergrad, but, once I’d entered grad school and declared my thesis, she had been assigned as my thesis advisor. I couldn’t believe my luck; she was on the front lines of research in food science and nutrition, the area I wanted to start with my thesis, continue with my PhD, and, someday, maybe catch the Nobel Prize.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked. She had texted me yesterday and asked if I could come in and speak with her before her class tonight.
“I wanted to see what your thoughts were for possible internships. If you’ve scoped out any companies or research labs.”
It was my turn to feel a little chagrined. “I haven’t had the time to check anything out,” I said, feeling my face turning red. “I will, I have a few I’m interested in.”
Dr. Evans smiled. “Relax, you’re not in trouble, silly. I wanted to give you a heads up about next week. Dr. Oliver Weeks, the CEO of Neuotova, is going to be coming in for a series of guest lectures. I’ll be turning my class over to him for a few nights, and I wanted to invite you to sit in on as many as you can, all of them if you like. I’m hoping that you can connect with him and that he may be able to offer you an internship.”
I tried to keep my mouth from dropping open, and I think I was largely successful, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from opening wide. “Dr. Evans, that’s such an amazing opportunity, thank you!”
“Your academic record is nearly flawless, and you’ve got huge potential, especially in research. I’m going to mention your name when I meet with him this week. I’ll try to introduce you next week, but, if I can’t, don’t feel afraid to go up and meet him yourself. He’ll know your name.” Dr. Evans smiled at my expression.
“I can’t thank you enough for that, Dr. Evans, truly. I’ll definitely be at your class next week; is he there every day?” Dr. Evans taught from 7-10pm, Monday through Thursday.
“Yes, so you’ll have plenty of time.”
“I’m so excited, thank you so much!” I stood up and Dr. Evans stood as well. She hugged me.
“You’ve got a very bright future, Becka; I want to help you out in any way I can.”
I left Dr. Evans’ office on a cloud. I always ride the bus to and from campus, and normally I feel like the ride goes pretty quickly. Today, though, I couldn’t get home fast enough. My roommate, Lisa, would absolutely die when she heard about the opportunity that had basically been just handed to me.
“Not handed to you,” Lisa said when I told her. “You’ve worked your ass off your whole life to get to where you are, and now you’re seeing some of the payoff. No one has ever handed you anything.”
She was right. My parents had divorced before I was old enough to walk. I lived with my mom until she passed away when I was sixteen, at which point the courts decided that I was mature enough and reliant enough to live on my own since no one could locate my dad. I had known for most of my life that, if I wanted to go to college, I was going to have to do it on my own, so I did. I studied, didn’t party, got scholarships, worked out a payment plan to pay my undergrad in installments, all the while working full time to save money to live and to pay for school.
“I can’t believe this,” I said, shaking my head. “This could be the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Is the opportunity of a lifetime, Becka. This is so exciting! We have to celebrate.”
“Why don’t we wait until I actually meet the man next week and see if he offers me an internship before we start the celebration.” I was always reminding Lisa to not get ahead of herself, and she was good at reminding me to not hold myself back. We were a good team.
“Fine,” she pouted. “We’ll hold off on the champagne until next week. But, I am going to make dinner tonight, and I won’t take no for an answer. I happened to pick up raw pizza dough, cheese, sauce, olives, pepperoni…”
“Okay, okay!” I said, putting my hands up. “Food police, you’ve got me! I’m totally down for some pizza.”

Oliver

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, Dr. Evans, I haven’t sat in a professor’s office in probably twenty years.” I looked around her office and I couldn’t believe how anyone could get anything done in this cramped little space. Barely a window, more like a piece of glass, over the left side of her desk, and the entire back wall was covered with book cases filled with books. It was a far cry from my office at Neuotova, which was on the top level of a skyscraper downtown with floor to ceiling windows on two of the four walls. And, since my order that the company go paperless in 2013, I doubted even a single book could be found on a shelf in my office.
“Please, call me Amy,” Dr. Evans said. She was very cute, though not really my type. I don’t remember the last time I had the time or the inclination to date anyone. Being the CEO of a major corporation takes most of my time, and then, of course, there’s my side business. Between the two, my dates were typically lined up by my personal assistant and began roughly an hour before a public appearance.
I had agreed to guest lecture at Amy’s classes a few times next week partially as a favor to the university, and partially because I fully expected to benefit from it. The university regularly put out some of the best young minds in the field of food science, and I always liked to get my potential friends close and my potential enemies even closer.
“I really appreciate you taking time out of your incredibly busy schedule to lecture,” she was saying. My students are extremely excited to hear what you have to say.”
“Well, I just hope I don’t bore them to tears. Though they are upper level students, so if they’re going to go into the business, they’ll need to be used to a lot of information coming at them quickly.”
“I did want to mention one woman to you, one of my thesis graduate students. She’s not in the class you’re lecturing, but I invited her specifically because I want her to introduce herself to you. Her name is Becka. Right now, she’s slated to graduate first in her class and her thesis is already being sought after for publication even though she’s only got a few chapters written.”
“Oh?” My interest was piqued. “What does she look like? I’ll keep an eye out. What makes you think she’d be a good match for Neuotova?”
“She’s 23, black hair, pretty fair skin. She always wears her hair down. She’s probably about 5’6” or thereabouts. She’s a researcher, with a focus on food chemistry and nutrition. She’s searching for a weight loss method that will actually work without long term harmful side effects of any kind. That’s her thesis. I’ve been trying to get her to expand her ideas to something a little more scientific, but that’s where she’s at right now. She really believes in the cause.”
“I’ll actually let her tell me all about it when I talk to her.” I smiled at Amy. “Thanks for inviting her to the lecture; she sounds like an interesting young woman. Is there anything else I should know or prepare for Monday?”
Amy showed me around the lecture hall where I would be presenting and we talked over the logistics of the presentation. It sounded like I would basically be giving a board room presentation to a bunch of young adults. Didn’t seem like too much of a problem. I reminded myself to have my assistant prepare my lecture notes this week so I could go over them on the weekend. Then, I said goodbye to Amy.
I walked back out of the building and took a stroll through the quad. My time in college had been cut short, but not unreasonably so; I’d gotten what I’d needed from my classes, and then, when I was offered a job at Neuotova, I took it. Worked my way up through various means. I chuckled. It was a little humorous to be presenting at a college seminar now. I wondered if my twenty year old self would have attended my own lecture. Probably not.

Becka

“Are you really wearing jeans to the lecture tonight?” Lisa stood in my bedroom door as I finished fixing my hair and touched up my make up.
“Of course,” I said. “What else would I wear?”
“A dress? A skirt? Something that isn’t jeans or, God help me, yoga pants? You’re going to be meeting the CEO of a major corporation tonight. This is basically a job interview.”
I stopped and looked at her. She wasn’t wrong. I looked toward my closet.
“I don’t think I have a dress,” I said. “For real.”
“You can borrow one of mine. Come on, come pick something out.”
Lisa and I were hardly the same size, but we made something work. A burgundy cotton jersey dress with tank top sleeves that came in at the waist, then flowed out at the bottom. I felt incredibly awkward, but the look of satisfaction on Lisa’s face suggested I had hit the mark with the dress I picked out.
“You look fabulous. Very professional. Now I’m willing to let you out of the house.”
“What would I do without you?” I asked, grinning at her as I put my phone in my purse.
“Die an old maid?”
“That’s still totally possible, just so you know. I haven’t had a date in almost a year.”
Practically pushing me out the door, Lisa said, “Perfect, I’ll add that next on the list. Now get to that lecture and get yourself an internship!”

***

When I arrived at the science building on campus, the lecture hall was about half full. I found Dr. Evans and waved at her. She smiled and gestured for me to take a seat in the fifth row, which was near where she was sitting. I made my way down and looked for Dr. Weeks. I was glad that I had arrived relatively early, as I knew the lecture hall would be packed by the time he came out to speak. I busied myself on my phone and tried to ignore the chatter of the undergrads.
Then, I saw him. He stood near the podium along with Dr. Evans. They were talking and she was showing him how to work the projector. From the back, how I saw him first, he was tall and fit. His hair was black and it was short on the bottom but a little longer on the top. He was wearing a suit without the jacket, which I noticed was sitting on one of the chairs in the front row. He turned to face us and I saw he wore a slim burgundy tie that looked as though it would match the dress I was wearing. I tried to keep the butterflies from floating out of my stomach because, quite simply, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. I wanted to text Lisa but I didn’t have reception in the hall.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed Dr. Weeks’ good looks. A group of girls behind me began to giggle and crack jokes. They were being loud and I felt myself blushing, wanting to hide so that I wasn’t associated with them in any way. Dr. Evans looked in our direction and frowned, which stopped the chatter pretty quickly. I don’t think Dr. Weeks even noticed; he never looked up at us.

It was nearly seven o’clock when Dr. Evans walked to the podium. People quieted down as she patiently waited for the room to focus.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you to those of you who are guests for taking time out of your evenings to join us, and, to my students, thank you for showing up to class!” She smiled and the audience tittered. “I’m very pleased and honored tonight to present our guest instructor for the week, a man whose work is well known to all of you if you eat anything that comes from a grocery store. Please be a respectful audience. Ladies and gentlemen, I present, Dr. Oliver Weeks!”
The audience applauded politely as Dr. Weeks took Dr. Evans’ place at the podium. He introduced himself, then immediately began to talk about his agenda for the week. He would give some background on his company, then, tomorrow night, he would start getting deeper into the science.
“That little tease is to make sure you come back for night two,” he joked. He looked up from his notes, then, and it seemed he looked right at me. He was smiling and his teeth were white and perfect. His eyes were sharp, piercing, though I couldn’t tell what color they were. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought his smile faltered a bit when he saw me. But, that couldn’t be; he didn’t know me from anyone else in the room.
His lecture was fascinating. He gave the entire history of Neuotova up to the present day, and he went over the current research as well as how the company had developed itself into the top food science corporation and research facility in the United States—and probably, within the next five years, he said, in the world.
The lecture ended and everyone applauded. Dr. Weeks said he would stick around for questions if anyone had them. I knew that was my opportunity to speak to him, especially since, at 10pm, most of the undergrads were bailing out of the lecture hall like the place was on fire, either to go study or drink or both. There were fewer than a dozen people down waiting to speak to Dr. Weeks. I knew I should be one of them.
But, I didn’t know how I would be able to speak to him. He was so incredibly good looking, I felt myself getting tongue-tied even still sitting in my chair. Get your shit together, Becka, seriously. He’s a potential boss for you. The fact that he’s gorgeous is meaningless; he’s probably married. Though a quick glance at his left hand confirmed that no, he wasn’t. Or he wasn’t the ring-wearing type. I felt myself blushing and I knew I needed to make a decision soon; the place was emptying out, and if I didn’t move, I’d be the only person still sitting in a room of standing, moving people.
I got up and walked quickly to the exit, not saying goodbye to Dr. Evans or introducing myself to Dr. Weeks.
When I got home, Lisa was waiting practically at the door to find out how my night had gone.
“Did you meet him? Did you talk to him? What did he say?” The questions came pouring out of her.
“No, no, and nothing,” I said, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and pouring a glass of red wine for myself. “Do you want one?” I nodded at my glass.
“Um, sounds like I need one. You didn’t say anything to him? Why not?”
“Lisa, this man, he’s like a GQ model. I mean, you should have seen him. Perfect black hair, eyes, the square jaw, broad, muscular shoulders, the whole nine. I couldn’t speak to him; I was too busy acting like a teenager at a rock concert.”
“You wasted a perfect dress because he’s hot?” Lisa shook her head. “Sometimes I can’t believe we’re friends.”
“What was I supposed to do, go up to him blushing and stuttering and try to impress him by tripping all over my words? No thank you.” I took a long drink of my wine and closed my eyes. I knew I had missed a big opportunity tonight.
“You kill me sometimes, you know that? Okay, so, what’s the plan for tomorrow night? Now that you’ve seen him, you’re ready for him, was he packing, by the way?”
“Lisa!”
“What? Was he? He sounds perfect, I figured you probably eventually worked your way down to his package.”
“He was wearing dress pants. Perfectly tailored dress pants.”
“Bummer,” Lisa smirked, sipping her wine. “Is he single?”
“I doubt it. I can’t imagine he would be.”
“Did he wear a ring?”
“No ring.”
“Hm,” Lisa frowned. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean much these days. You googled him, right?”
“Not during his lecture, no,” I said wryly.
“What the hell, what are you waiting for?”
“The end of the interrogation, officer,” I tilted my head at Lisa and she punched me in the shoulder as she stood up.
“I’m getting my laptop and we’re going to figure out Mr. Mysterious and everything he’s about.”
I sighed as I heard her scrambling around her room to unearth her laptop. With any luck at all, he would be married and that would end Lisa’s interest. But, a voice inside my head told me, him being married was not the information I was hoping to find…
“Okay,” Lisa said, walking back to the kitchen with her laptop open and resting on her forearm. She was typing one-handed as she walked. “Oliver Weeks.” She pressed a few keys and set the laptop on the table.
I leaned in as a picture of him popped up on the right side of the screen. “That’s him,” I said.
Lisa whistled. “Holy smokes, yeah, he’s hot. Damn.” She looked at me. “And you didn’t talk to him when you were given a specific invitation to introduce yourself? Have I truly taught you nothing?”
I sighed. “Click there. It’s a news article from last week.” We clicked on at least fifty websites with information on Oliver Weeks. Some were features on him, others were about Neuotova , and others were rags speculating about the exact same question we were wondering about: was he married. All of the pictures we saw with women in them, the woman was always identified only as “Weeks’ date,” and no woman was pictured twice. We learned he was forty, had lived in the city since he’d dropped out of college, and had been born and spent his childhood on the West Coast.
Lisa and I finished the bottle of wine and I called it a night, promising her that I would go out tomorrow and buy a dress before the next lecture, and that I would definitely introduce myself tomorrow night.
I went to bed and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t get Dr. Weeks out of my mind. When I did finally drift off, I dreamed about him. I kept waking up and looking at the clock to see that only an hour or two had gone by. You’re losing your mind, I thought. Get a grip.
By the time class rolled around the next night, though, I was feeling better, more confident. I’d bought a dress similar to the one I’d worn of Lisa’s, and I did my hair and make up carefully. Suddenly the idea of wearing jeans to the lecture the night before seemed absolutely ludicrous. Tonight, I was preparing for an actual job interview. I had a really good feeling about Dr. Weeks, and not just because he was hot. He had an energy about him, an alpha male sort of thing. I knew that he recognized talent and intelligence and, if he wanted to take me on as an intern, that would be a huge boon for my future in research.
I arrived on campus early once again, but, this time, the lecture hall was emptier than it had been the night before. I saw Dr. Evans and, after a few minutes, Dr. Weeks walked in the side door with his briefcase in his hand. I waited for him to set up his materials, and then I made my way to the front of the room.
“Dr. Weeks,” I said, trying to control the shakiness in my voice. Breathe, I told myself. “Hi, my name is Becka Jasper. I’m a graduate student with Dr. Evans.” I reached out my hand to shake his, which he had already automatically extended.
“Becka, of course,” he said warmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I really enjoyed your lecture last night. It was fascinating.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. I reminded myself to take another deep breath at the sight of his straight, perfect teeth.
“I was wondering if I could take you out for a cup of coffee before the lecture tomorrow night. I’m a researcher and I’d love to hear more of your thoughts about the success of the company and where you think the future is going in food chemistry research.”
Dr. Weeks smiled. “I think I could swing that, as long as we can throw in a sandwich, and it’s my treat. You’re a student and I’m a CEO; it would be indecent for me to ask you to pay.”
I smiled. “That sounds just fine, Dr. Weeks, thank you.”
“Call me Oliver,” he said, and I felt my knees tremble.
“Oliver.”
“Here’s my card,” he said, taking a business card from his breast pocket. “My personal cell is on there. Text me tomorrow and let me know where to meet you. Should we say 5:30?”
“Yes, Sir, I mean, Oliver, yes,” I was blushing again, furiously, and it was time to bail. “Thank you, I’m looking forward to it.” I reached out to shake his hand again. He shook it and held on as he said,
“I’m looking forward to it as well, Becka.” He looked into my eyes with his intense gaze and I felt myself weakening. It wasn’t just his good looks; it was the energy moving between us when we touched. Even just shaking hands, I felt a warmth shoot through me straight to parts of my body I didn’t typically like to think about while I was in class.
“Okay, well, I better go sit,” I said.
“Enjoy the lecture,” he said. “I’ll be asking for a critique tomorrow.” He smiled and, as he did, the skin in the corners of his eyes crinkled gently.
I laughed and found my way to my seat. I hoped he was kidding about asking for a critique on the lecture, because, when I got home, I could barely remember a word he’d said.

Oliver

I had been right, Becka had been the gorgeous woman with the black hair I noticed last night. How could I not notice; she stood out like a piece of gold among pieces of rusted tin. I had planned to seek her out tonight after my lecture, but she beat me to it, finding me before the lecture even began. Once again, she was dressed beautifully; I liked what she was wearing tonight even more than what she had on last night. She looked more natural in it somehow.
She invited me out to coffee and I accepted, of course. I was surprised at how forward she was; typically women are a little tongue-tied around me; it’s why I tend to avoid dating. But, Becka had already proven herself to be different. I had trouble keeping my mind on my lecture that night; every time I looked out at the audience, my eyes seemed drawn to her. She had her eyes on me, seemingly fascinated by everything I was saying. I smiled at her and she smiled back, but I only did that once, because, as soon as she smiled back at me, I lost my place in my presentation.
I didn’t get the chance to talk to her the next day; more of Dr. Evans’ students had questions than the night before, and, by the time I was able to see through the waiting crowd, Becka had disappeared. I waited the rest of the night and the next morning for her text. I had three business meetings with international clients and I kept one eye on my computer and the other eye on my phone. I had nearly given up when a number I didn’t recognize pinged a text.
Hi, it’s Becka. Let’s meet at Franks on Fifth for coffee?
The relief at seeing her words on my screen surprised me. I thought I actually felt my muscles relax. That can’t be, I thought. It’s a text. From a woman. That’s not an unusual thing in your world. Still, it took me a moment to figure out exactly how to respond. After running through a few responses in my head, I decided to go simple. Easy. Direct.
Perfect, see you then. I clicked send. That out of the way, I was able to concentrate on my work once again.
The day flew by and, by the time I had finished my last meeting for the day with a senator from Minnesota who had some connections at the University of Minnesota, I had just enough time to freshen up in the restroom before I went to find Franks on Fifth.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and nodded. Not bad. A little gray around the temples, but I’d been working out regularly since high school and had managed to keep the trademark CEO paunch at bay.
I waved goodbye to Megan as I left the office, ignoring the knowing smile on her face. I drove myself to the coffee shop, my GPS guiding the way. Normally my driver takes me, but, since I was teaching at the college this week, I had given him the evenings off.
When I pulled up to the coffee shop, I saw Megan sitting at a table outside, and immediately changed my mind about her wearing dresses. Tonight, she wore jeans and a tank top, and they looked like a second skin on her. She had curves in all the right places, curves the dresses hadn’t shown, and she held herself differently, more confident and comfortable. I honked the horn lightly and she looked up. I waved, she smiled and waved back.
I parked the car and took my suit coat off, laying it on the passenger seat to keep it from wrinkling. I turned my phone off—something I never did—and got out of the car.
Becka stood as I approached, and I found myself smiling, and confused. I was meeting a graduate student in a coffee shop. I had asked my assistant how to text a date. I turned my phone off. It was as through I was a different person whenever anything with Becka was involved. I would have to be careful here; I had no intention of getting involved with anyone romantically. It was too distracting, and I had too much on my hands already running the company the world knew about and running the one only a handful of people knew about. A woman didn’t fit anywhere in that picture.
“Hi, Dr. Weeks, I mean, Oliver. Thanks again for meeting me.”
“Hi Becka, this looks like a great place!” And it did. It was clearly a college hangout, with students everywhere studying, relaxing, on dates. The décor was eclectic and the lights were bright enough to allow students to study, but dim enough to cover the dingy walls behind the artwork and book shelves.
“It’s a favorite among the grad students; we do a lot of study groups here. They don’t have alcohol, which kind of sucks, but, sometimes, that’s actually better.” She grinned at me and I smiled back.
We ordered the same thing—coffee, black—and returned to the outside table Becka had chosen.
“So,” I began. “Dr. Evans actually mentioned you to me before you introduced yourself.” She began to blush immediately. “Which was a good thing. Tell me about your thesis and what areas you’re looking to focus your research on in the future.”
She began to talk and I watched her lips, full and red, as she spoke. Her eyes were passionate, they were a brown so dark her pupils were nearly invisible, and she used her hands when she talked. Her fingers were long and slender, and she wore a fitbit on one wrist. The orange tank top she wore looked beautiful against her skin, and it cradled her breasts, exposing just the tops and her cleavage as she leaned over to take a sip of coffee. For a moment, I imagined reaching across the table and, with my index finger and thumb, gently plucking one of the straps from her shoulder, letting that side of the tank top fall to expose her beautiful breast.
“That’s fascinating,” I said, having heard only a portion of what she’d said. I heard enough to know that she was whip smart, articulate, and elegant in how she held herself when she talked about her passions.
We talked until it was nearly time to go to the lecture. I couldn’t believe how fast the time had flown by.
“I can’t believe how fast the time went,” I said as we recycled our cups.
“I know, I feel like we just barely got started talking,” Becka said. I thought for a moment, her intense gaze on me.
“Tell you what, what are you doing after the lecture tonight?” I asked.
“I’d just planned on going home,” she said.
“Well, you were right, not serving alcohol is a major flaw in an otherwise very fine establishment. What would you say about continuing our conversation over a glass of wine somewhere after the lecture?”
She smiled widely. “I would love that.” Her mouth was gorgeous, and her smile was like decorating a diamond with rubies. I took a breath, reminded myself to be cool.
“Great,” I said, as smoothly as possible. “Wait for me after and we can go together. Did you drive here or do you need a ride?”
“I’m good, I rode my bike,” she said, pointing to a bike with a basket on the back chained to the side of the building.
“Then I’ll see you at the lecture.”
“See you then, Oliver,” she said, rolling my name through her lips and sending an involuntary shiver through me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at her even once during the lecture tonight. Last night I just lost my place; who knows what would happen tonight.

Becka

All through the lecture I was completely distracted. Having coffee with Oliver had been so much more amazing than I could have imagined. He seemed impressed with my studies and how I saw my future, but, more, I had full permission to look at him for over an hour. To watch his eyes as he listened, to notice if he had any nervous habits or not—I didn’t see any—and to be in his space. When he invited me to continue the evening, date?, after with a cocktail, I nearly died. I’m sure my face blushed bright red, as it did any time I thought about him.
Tonight’s focus was on corporations who attempt to undermine the research of companies like Neuotova by destroying research, hacking into the computer system, or even breaking into buildings and damaging test subjects or equipment. Oliver gravely stated that the people who do these crimes often believe they’re helping a greater good, but, really, they’re doing more damage to the entire human race. It was a pretty sobering lecture, and it made sense why he had started with a history of Neuotova and moved on from there. The organization of his presentation was impressive. I’d heard other guest lecturers who were business people but were clearly not teachers. I thought that Oliver probably could have been a really great teacher if he hadn’t wanted to be a millionaire. And was he a millionaire? Or was he a billionaire? Did I go to coffee with a billionaire tonight? I looked down at my jeans, with tears in both knees and one in my upper thigh. Yes, I probably did, I thought.
After the lecture ended, I sat and waited for Oliver. Each night more students, mostly female, had gathered to ask him questions. I noticed that several girls were there night after night, asking different questions. I shook my head. He glanced up at me a few times, smiling, and, of course, I couldn’t help but smile back. I felt excitement surging through my body every time he looked up. I was feeling nervous, more nervous for the drink than I had felt for the coffee, and I didn’t think that was possible.
When the group had dissipated and the last of the giggling girls had gathered their bags and left the lecture hall, Oliver, Dr. Evans, and I remained.
“Oh, good,” Dr. Evans said. “You were able to meet.”
“Yes,” Oliver said. “Your student is quite fascinating.” He looked over at me and smiled.
“I knew that you would be impressed. She’s our best.”
“We’re actually going out for a glass of wine to continue a conversation we started earlier, would you like to join us?” Oliver asked.
I felt my eyes widen and my skin flush again. He was inviting Dr. Evans along? That was fine, of course, but…that would insure that he did not think we were on a date. I crossed my fingers and hoped she would refuse.
“I’d love to, but…” she hesitated. “Well, okay, maybe just one.”
“Great,” I said.
We all agreed to meet at a bar that was fairly close to campus, and was actually on my way home. The whole way there I tried to get myself to be okay with the fact that Dr. Evans was coming along. Tried to remind myself that it wasn’t a big deal. She was my professor and I liked her, and Oliver and I were not on a date. He was probably interviewing me for a position with his company at best, and was using me to get to Dr. Evans at worst. Either way, I couldn’t do anything about it. What I could do, though, was stop fantasizing about capturing the affections of a billionaire.
When I got to the bar, Dr. Evans and Oliver were already there. They had taken a table outside and were seated across from each other at a table for four. I grabbed the seat between them, and we ordered a bottle of red to share.
Dr. Evans and Oliver spent some of the time talking about the lectures; Dr. Evans was, as I had been, impressed with his skills as a teacher and presenter. I contributed to the conversation as I could, but mostly I tried to get a read on if there was chemistry between Oliver and Dr. Evans. I didn’t sense anything, but, of course, I didn’t really know one way or the other. We finished the bottle and the server came by to ask if we wanted another.
“You two can have another if you’d like,” Dr. Evans said, “but I’m going to beg off and head home. I’ve got an eight o’clock class tomorrow morning and too much red wine doesn’t mix well with that.” She smiled and took out her wallet.
“Oh, please, Amy, I’ll get the wine,” Oliver said, half standing and reaching his hand out to indicate Dr. Evans should put her wallet away.
“Well, thank you! I’ll see you both tomorrow night!” She waved to both of us and walked to her car.
Oliver turned to me. “I hope it was okay that I invited her along. I wanted to make sure that, if she heard that we were out together, that she knew it was innocent.”
“Innocent,” I repeated. “Of course.”
He took my hand in his and leaned in toward me. “Plus, it gave me some time to look at you while she was talking.” He smiled and I felt arousal move through me, from his warm hand all the way to the space between my legs, which was growing wet with excitement at his touch.
“I…” I didn’t know what to say. I felt my skin burning up.
“You’re very cute when you’re flustered,” he said. “You blush from your chest,” he reached out and touched the very top of my cleavage, “to the tip of your nose.” His index finger lightly tapped my nose and we both laughed. It cut the tension immediately and I relaxed.
“I know I do. It’s such a pain in the ass. It happens any time I drink wine, mess something up, or if I’m nervous or angry. So, basically, it happens all the time.”
“Well, it’s nice of you to give the rest of the world a little window into what’s inside your head,” Oliver said. “If I had that, I would never be able to be in the job I’m in now. A poker face is essential, and, if I had any tells at all, I had to get rid of them long ago.”
We ordered another bottle of wine and, by the time we finished it, I was facing a long ride home on my bicycle.
“Let me drive you home,” he said. “Or, better yet, would you like to come to my place?”
I stared at him. He was so confusing! First inviting Dr. Evans out with us, though his reasoning had seemed sound, but he was now inviting me over to his house?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go home with you,” I said slowly, “but I’d definitely appreciate a ride. But, what about my bike?”
“I’ll have someone bring it by your place tomorrow morning, it’ll be no trouble at all.”
I nodded, feeling my head swimming from the wine and all of the excitement of the time with Oliver.
He linked my arm through his and, after paying the bill, he walked me to his car and got me settled in the passenger seat. As he walked to the driver’s side, I rolled my eyes. Great, I thought. You go out with a billionaire and you get drunk. Nice work.
As we drove, he began to whistle. It was a song I’d never heard before, and I thought about asking him what it was, but I didn’t want him to stop. It was a very soothing sound. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the passenger side window. I thought about inviting him up. Lisa was gone for the rest of the week and the weekend, off on a research assignment in the northern part of the state. She wouldn’t be back until Sunday.
I looked over at him, contemplating how the invitation would sound if I said it out loud.
“Yes?” Oliver asked.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re staring at me,” he said.
“Sorry,” I said. “And I’m sorry I had too much wine. I feel like I made a lousy impression on you.”
He pulled over in front of my building, having followed the directions I’d given him to a T. He put the car in park and looked at me.
“You’re not drunk,” he said. “You’re still speaking quite clearly. If anything, you’re comfortably buzzed. It happens all the time. Do you need help upstairs to your apartment?”
That was my chance, the opportunity to invite him up. But, I didn’t want him to think I needed help, think that I was so drunk I couldn’t get upstairs by myself.
“No,” I said, trying to speak as articulately as I could. “I’m fine. Thank you so much for a fun evening. It was really nice to talk with you.”
“The feeling is mutual, Becka,” he said in a low voice. Then, he got out of the car on his side and came around to the passenger door, opening it and holding his hand out for me to help me out. Holding my hand, he leaned over and brushed his lips against my cheek as I stood. My body heated immediately from his touch.
“Thank you,” I said again, and, before he could say anything else, I walked quickly up my stairs and into my building.
I collapsed onto my bed in my clothes and stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to start to spin. His touch was absolutely magnetic, and I could still feel my skin tingling from where he had touched me. I drew my hand to my cheek, feeling the spot he had kissed. I fell asleep that way, and didn’t wake up until nearly nine o’clock the next morning.

Oliver

I got home and immediately jumped onto my treadmill after changing quickly into sweats and a t-shirt. I’m not used to not getting what I want, and I had discovered, over the course of two bottles of wine with Becka, that I wanted her. I wanted her tonight. But, that’s what I had my exercise room for; for the times when I knew that I needed to act slowly, pace myself, and take my time. Becka was unique; she wasn’t a one night stand situation. As I ran, I felt my frustrations melt away. I shook my head remembering that I had invited her over to my house. Clumsily invited her. She turned me down. I can’t remember the last time someone did that. It was both infuriating and incredibly sexy.
I wanted to text her that night, but I didn’t need Megan to tell me that would be too soon. By the morning, though, I had a plan. After I called Megan to have her get Becka’s bike delivered back to her apartment, I texted Becka and invited her over for dinner.
Good morning! Hope you’re feeling okay. Come for dinner tonight. My chef is amazing and will be thrilled to cook for someone other than just me.
I clicked send, then paused. I added a second text.
I won’t take no for an answer.
I waited, staring at my phone, feeling nervous energy for the first time in God knew how long. I really needed to get a grip on myself. It was a dinner invitation. Like a client. Except not a client. Not even remotely a client.
The ping of my phone pulled me out of my thoughts.
Well, if you won’t take no for an answer, then I guess I’ll say maybe.
I furrowed my brow and was figuring out how to respond; of course that hadn’t been what I meant, when my phone pinged a second time.
Just kidding. Yes, I’ll come for dinner.
Relief washed over me and I shook my head at myself. I was acting like a teenager. I texted back.
Marvelous, and ha ha. I’ll send someone to pick you up at seven.
Seven o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.
I called my chef and told him that there would be two for dinner. When he asked me what I’d like on the menu, I paused. I didn’t know if Becka was a vegetarian. I wondered if I should text her back and ask her, then decided to go with a vegetarian menu, just in case. The chef said he knew just the thing and that I would love it.

***
I sent my driver to pick Becka up and instructed him to escort her in when they arrived. They were right on time, and I was waiting in the entryway for Becka’s arrival. When she walked in, I could see the shock and awe on her face.
“You live in a castle!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw me.
“Technically, yes, it is an actual castle,” I said with pride. “I had it restored a bit, and it was certainly never used the way medieval castles were used, but this one definitely serves a purpose, past and present. I watched her look around, taking everything in.
“This place is really intimidating,” she said. “It’s beautiful, of course, but, wow. I mean, you live here by yourself?” I thought if her eyes got any wider they might fall out of her head.
“I do. Come on into the lounge. We can have a cocktail before dinner. Are you a vegetarian?”
“No,” she said, following me. She set her purse down on a table in the entry and I smiled. The table cost over a quarter of a million dollars and had probably never had a woman’s purse sitting on it. “I’m a meat eater. That tends to surprise people, given my desired occupation.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” I said. “Chef is preparing us a vegetarian menu tonight, but I promise we’ll have large steaks the next time.”
Next time. The words echoed in my head.
She smiled and tilted her head. She’d caught it too.
“Come,” I said, exhaling loudly. “Sit. What can I get you?”
“A glass of wine would be nice,” she said, sitting on the nearest couch.
We talked while dinner was being prepared and she told me about her family. Becka certainly hadn’t had an easy life. Her father abandoning her, her mother dying of complications of morbid obesity when she was sixteen. She was an only child, like me, and I knew what a lonely life it could be.
When dinner was ready, we moved into the dining room. The table seated twenty, but I’d had the housekeeper set the end for two. I sat at the head of the table and she sat to my right.
“Tell me about your family,” she said. “And dinner is delicious, by the way.”
She was right; Chef had outdone himself. He’d prepared a mushroom risotto, oven-roasted vegetables, and something that neither Becka nor I could pronounce, his own creation, which was divine.
“I’ll pass your compliments to my chef,” I said. “My family, let’s see. Well, I come from a long line of corporate blood. I’m an only child, like you. My parents passed away when I was in my twenties, both from cancer, and…that’s kind of about it.”
The lie sounded pat coming from my lips, because I’d told it hundreds of times.
“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” she said, pausing with her fork to her mouth.
“You understand how hard it is,” I said. “I think that’s part of why we connect so well.”
She nodded and took a sip of her wine.
We continued to talk as we finished the meal, then returned to the lounge where we sat on the couch, our knees nearly touching, as we drank a second bottle of wine.
“I really can’t believe how big this place is,” Becka said, looking around. “How do you not get lost?”
“Well,” I said, “before GPS it was hopeless.” I grinned at her.
She laughed, and I was treated to her beautiful diamond smile once again.
“I hope I get to give you a full tour sometime,” I whispered. I leaned close to her. I wanted to kiss her more than anything, and her lips seemed to be beckoning me toward them. She looked into my eyes and I saw a lot of emotion in them: desire, fear, joy, and I touched my lips to hers.
She kissed me back, and, as she pressed her lips against mine, I felt her warm, wet heat against me. I wanted to be closer to her, but I wanted to take my time. I gently explored her mouth with my tongue; she tasted so sweet. She returned my exploration with her own, and our kiss deepened.
She pulled away and took a deep breath.
“That was nice,” she said, blushing. I smiled at her.
“You have beautiful lips,” I told her, running my index finger along her bottom lip. “And beautiful eyes.”
She dropped her gaze and smile, blushing even more deeply.
“I should probably get home. Thank you so much for dinner, Oliver.”
I had already decided that I would not extend an invitation to her tonight to spend the night, nor would I push her to do so in any way.
“I’ll call my driver to take you home, Becka. Please can we do this again? Your company is refreshing, very different from what I’m used to.”
She nodded, and, as we walked to the door, she picked up her purse and then turned back to me. She kissed me again lightly on the lips, and then she opened the door and stepped into the car.

Becka

I sat back in the back seat of Oliver’s car and sighed, still feeling the tingling of Oliver’s lips on my own. I wanted to scream, dance, shout, but of course I had to keep my cool as long as I was in front of his driver. I cursed the fact that Lisa was gone for the weekend and out of cell range; if ever I needed a girl gab session, tonight was the night.
Before we arrived at my house, my phone pinged. I took it out of my purse and saw I had a text from Oliver.
Dinner tomorrow night. Out, this time. A steakhouse. Be ready by 8.
A smile so wide it hurt my cheeks spread onto my face. I responded immediately,
Can’t wait.
I put my phone away and laid back until I felt the car come to a stop. I thanked Oliver’s driver as he opened my door and escorted me to my doorstep.
In my apartment, I looked at my bed but decided I was far too awake to sleep. Instead, I raided Lisa’s closet and picked out a dress to wear for my date—yes, my date—for the next night.
When I finally did fall asleep, for the first time but not the last, I dreamed of Oliver.

***
He picked me up promptly at eight o’clock, and his driver, a different man than the night before, drove us to Manifold Steakhouse. I’d never been there, but I knew it by reputation. The maître d’ led us to Oliver’s private table.
“Again, I’m impressed,” I said, “and a little intimidated.”
“Don’t be,” Oliver said. “It’s just money. I took the liberty of ordering for us in advance, a very special menu item that requires 12 hours notice. I hope that’s okay with you?”
I smiled, because he suddenly seemed a little nervous. I put my hand on his.
“Thank you, that was very sweet. I’m excited.”
Because he had ordered ahead, our appetizers came with our wine, and, while we were in the midst of a deep conversation about hybrid grapes and their impact on the American wine industry, our dinners came.
The steak looked absolutely amazing and, when I looked around for my steak knife, Oliver held up his regular table knife.
“You don’t need a steak knife. It’s tender enough to cut with this.”
And it was. We ate, ordered dessert, and shared a second bottle of wine. I couldn’t believe how much we had in common and how easy it was to talk to this man who, under other circumstances, I would never have met.
He paid the bill by nodding to the maître d’ and I just shook my head. He smiled at me. “Just money,” he reminded me. “I’m not magic or anything.”
“I think you just might be, actually,” I said.
His driver took us back to my apartment. When he pulled up, I looked at Oliver. I had practiced the line in my mind all day, saying in my head, out loud to the mirror, even to my water bottle. Still, I felt nervous enough I thought I might pass out.
“Would you like to come up?” I whispered.
Relief broke out onto his face along with a big smile. “Yes, Becka, I would.” He got out of the car and escorted me from my side. I had cleaned the apartment from top to bottom that day, but that didn’t stop me from pausing just before I opened the door and saying a silent prayer that, while I was gone, a magic fairy had transformed my apartment into, oh, say, a castle.
Of course no such magic had occurred. I winced as I looked at my apartment as he must be.
“It’s marvelous,” he said. “Very charming!” He walked around the kitchen and living room, then poked his head first into Lisa’s room, then into mine. “Which room is yours?”
“The last one,” I said. “And I’d give you the grand tour, but you just took it yourself.” I offered him some wine, and we sat on my couch.
Probably it was too much wine, or maybe my nerves had just reached the point where they needed some release, but I kissed him as soon as we sat down, passionately, and he put his arms around me. I leaned back and he laid on top of me. We continued to kiss and I felt him grow hard, his cock pressing into my thigh.
“You have a very comfortable couch,” he said through our kiss. “How’s your bed?”
“It’s even more comfortable than this,” I said. Before I had finished my sentence, he had picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his hips and he held me close as he brought me into my bedroom and put me on the bed. He pulled my dress off over my head and stopped, a look of complete appreciation on his face as he saw my breasts.
“Wow,” he said. “You’re… breathtaking.”
I laid down on the bed, clad only in my black bra and panties, and I unhooked my bra from behind. He took off his shirt and undid his pants, letting them drop to the floor. He didn’t take his eyes off of me as he stepped out of them and laid on top of me. His body’s weight on mine was grounding and exciting. I felt his cock, urging to be freed from his boxers, and he kissed my breasts, began to suck my nipples, sucking one while he played with the other with his finger and thumb. I groaned with pleasure; my nipples were incredibly sensitive. At the same time, I drew my hand down between his legs and reached for his cock. It was long and thick and incredibly hard. I smiled, and began to pull his boxers down. He finished for me, then returned to kissing my breasts, my stomach, my thighs.
When his tongue found my clit, I gasped. He worked his tongue along my inner lips, gliding it up one side, rolling it over my clit, then gliding down the other. He did this until my entire body was a tingling mass.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said in a low growl. He came back up to kiss my lips and, as he did, I turned and got a condom from my nightstand. He put it on and, in a quick hot second, he was inside me.
He felt as though he had been made to be in me. We fit so perfectly together, he stretched me in the most pleasurable way I’d ever felt. When he began moving, thrusting up and down, my hips met his and we moved in rhythm together. Breathless, pulsing, I forgot all about who he was and simply surrendered to the passion and energy of my impending orgasm. I felt it coming for several minutes; he would take me to the edge and then back off, watching my face, listening to my moans of pleasure. When he finally let me climax, he joined me, and I felt us surging into one another. When he finished, he moved off of me and allowed me to come down from my orgasm. My breath was rapid and the sounds coming from me were like nothing I’d heard from myself before.
We slept, me in his arms. When I woke up, he was gone, but he’d left a note saying that he’d had a business meeting. I was sad, but I trusted that was part of the territory.
I grabbed my phone and checked my messages. There was one from Dr. Evans saying I needed to come to her office ASAP. She sounded so angry. I hung up the phone, pale and shaky. I looked at the clock; it was nine. She had called a little past seven. Had she found out? What had I done?