Chemistry was Chemistrying
I turned to him, keeping my expression neutral. “We rely on grants, donations, and the support of investors who believe in our mission. The goal is accessibility, Mr. Vaughn, not profit margins.”
His smile widened slightly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “A noble goal. But surely you’ve considered the financial sustainability of such an approach?”
“I have,” I replied evenly, refusing to rise to the bait. “Which is why we work hard to deliver measurable results that attract the right kind of support.”
“And does that support include doing surgeries for free?” he asked, leaning back casually, his gaze challenging.
I stepped closer to the screen, gesturing toward the data displayed.
“Our results speak for themselves,” I said firmly, gesturing toward the screen again. “The surgeries I perform, whether pro bono or otherwise, contribute directly to the research. Every case provides invaluable data that helps refine our techniques.”
Rowan tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “So you’re saying your altruism doubles as an investment strategy.”
I turned to him, holding his gaze. “I’m saying that saving lives is the priority. If that makes the research more appealing to investors, it’s a bonus.”
The room was silent, the investors exchanging subtle glances. I could feel the tension in the air—Rowan’s presence was as commanding as ever, but I wasn’t about to back down.
One of the investors cleared his throat. “Dr. Laurent, could you give us a concrete example of how your research has impacted patient outcomes?”
“Of course,” I said, grateful for the pivot. I stepped toward the display, clicking through to a chart. “Take, for example, a recent case involving a patient with severe arterial damage. Using a combination of traditional surgical methods and our advanced imaging technology, we were able to perform a minimally invasive procedure with a 98% success rate. The patient’s recovery time was cut in half.”
The investors murmured appreciatively, leaning forward in their seats.
Rowan’s voice broke through again, smooth and unyielding. “Impressive. But let me ask you this, Dr. Laurent—if funding were to run out tomorrow, what would happen to your research?”
I exhaled slowly, turning to face him fully. “If funding ran out tomorrow, I’d still be doing everything in my power to save lives. That’s what matters most, Mr. Vaughn. Not hypotheticals.”
His eyes sparkled with something between amusement and challenge, and I realized with a jolt how close I’d gotten to him. Somewhere in the middle of defending my work, I’d closed the distance, and now I was standing mere inches away.
“You’re very passionate about your work,” he said, his voice lower now, almost a murmur.
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Yes,” I replied, my voice quieter but no less firm. “I am.”
His gaze lingered on mine, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had disappeared. There was something unspoken between us, an electric tension that neither of us acknowledged aloud.
“Passion’s a good thing,” he said finally, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “As long as it doesn’t blind you to reality.”
“Reality,” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that subjective, Mr. Vaughn? Some people’s reality is profit margins. Mine is making sure a child gets a chance to grow up.”
His smirk faltered slightly, replaced by a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. He opened his mouth to respond, but one of the investors interjected.
“This is all very impressive, Dr. Laurent,” the man said, his tone enthusiastic. “Your work is groundbreaking. I think we’ll have much to discuss moving forward.”
“Thank you,” I said, stepping back from Rowan and addressing the room. “I’d be happy to provide further details about our ongoing projects.”
Dr. Khan stepped in then, ushering the investors toward the adjoining conference room for a more detailed presentation. I exhaled quietly, relieved to have a moment to breathe.
“Still avoiding reality, huh?” Rowan’s voice came from beside me, low and teasing.
I turned to him, my patience wearing thin. “Why are you even here, Rowan?”
His smirk returned. “Business.”
“Of course,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
“But I’m starting to think this trip might have some unexpected benefits,” he added, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes.
I felt a flush creep up my neck, but I refused to let him get under my skin. “If you’ll excuse me, I have real work to do.”
I turned on my heel and walked away, ignoring the way my pulse raced as his low chuckle followed me out of the room.
***
I wanted to kill him.
I wish I could. Use a scalpel if need be.
He was pissing me off.
I paced back and forth in the small office adjacent to the conference room, muttering to myself as I sorted through the aftermath of Rowan’s taunts. “Reality, he says. Who the hell does he think he is? Walking in here, questioning everything like he’s some all-knowing god. Reality! I’ll show him reality.”
“Dr. Laurent?” My assistant Jo poked her head in, her big brown eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Are you… okay?”
“No, Jo, I’m not okay,” I snapped, turning to face her. “He’s insufferable!”
She bit her lip, trying and failing to stifle a giggle. “I mean, yeah, he’s intense. But also, that chemistry? Whew! Totally chemistrying.”
I froze mid-rant, narrowing my eyes at her. “What did you just say?”
“The chemistry,” she said, waving a hand dramatically. “Between you two. It’s so obvious. Like, sparks flying, hearts racing, enemies-to-lovers vibe. Everyone noticed.”
I stared at her, deadpan. “Is ‘chemistrying’ even a word?”
“It should be,” Jo said, shrugging unapologetically. “Because that’s what’s happening. Big, fiery chemistry. Like a volcano.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to rein in my temper. “Jo, I don’t know what reality you’re living in, but there is no chemistry. There are no sparks. There is nothing.”
“Oh, sure,” she said with a sly grin. “That’s why you two were
practically eye-flirting in the conference room.”
“We were not eye-flirting!” I snapped.
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