Command (3 page)

Julien’s laughter filtered through the room. “Aria would chew off your balls for that description.”

“You’re not just interrupting my work, you’re starting to piss me off.”

“What time is it there?”

“How the hell would I know?” He looked out of a window and saw nothing except the reflection of the room. “Somewhere between dusk and dawn.” Grant wasn’t quite sure when that had happened. It’d been light the last time he looked.

A spasm rendered his neck immovable. He winced. But rather than waiting for it to pass, he pressed two fingers to the muscle—or was it a tendon?—and massaged it.

“It’s after one a.m. in New Mexico,” Julien said.

Was it? He looked at the time icon on the bottom of his screen. He’d been up since five this morning. No wonder his muscles were starting to freeze. “And?”

“I took a guess that you’d still be working.”

“Tough shit if I had been trying to sleep,” Grant remarked.

Julien didn’t interrupt often. Most times, when he did, it was with good reason.

The two had met when they’d shared student housing at UT Austin. Like most of their buddies, they’d had a shared interest in coeds and parties, but their friendship went deeper. Over beers and games of pool, he and Julien had discussed ideas, products, ways to change the world.

They’d challenged each other’s assumptions and beliefs. When Grant had an idea, Julien would ask a million questions. The result he’d end up with would be different—better—than where he’d started from.

Continuing the alliance after graduation had been natural.

If Julien was the visionary behind Bonds, Grant was its engineer. He’d drawn little salary in the early days, and he’d worked tirelessly to make Julien’s visions a reality—still did. Not that the man needed much help. By all rights, he
was
a damn genius. But he needed a friend he trusted implicitly, who gnawed on a problem until it was solved.

“As I was saying—”

“Christ,” Grant interrupted. “You didn’t go away yet?”

“Pay attention,” Julien said.

“I think I told you to fuck off. If I didn’t, let me repeat. Fuck off. Send her somewhere else. She’s not coming here.”

As if Grant had never spoken, Julien continued, “Svetlana will have her there by about ten, maybe eleven. Make yourself presentable.”

“Svetlana?” He felt a stupid grin forming on his face. His relationship with the sexy Russian ex-spy was hot and simple.

She had some interesting sexual demands, and he was happy to indulge every single one of them.

Theirs was an unusual friendship, defined by a unique code. They played with each other as long as neither of them was involved with someone else—no attachments, no emotion, no mess. It suited them both.

“Sorry, Grant. This is a touch-and-go.”

Meaning Svetlana was delivering her passenger and leaving right away. His smile faded. He always loved having her at his mercy, on her knees.

“You’ll get the chance to say hello when you meet Aria.”

“I believe I told you no fucking way.”

“You have a vehicle. Something big and mean, if I remember.”

“Yeah.” Tricked out with the latest gadgets, some of which didn’t work exactly as hoped yet. “But I don’t have time for company. Sorry.”

“And I said that’s not an option.” Julien’s voice was very quiet, uncompromising.

Grant dragged his hand across his face and got stubble burn. How long had it been since he’d shaved?

“I’m shutting down the hologram project.”

He stared up at a speaker for long moments. Silence echoed back. Obviously Julien was waiting for his words to register.

Slowly at first, then bigger and faster, the ripples went through him. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Video on.”

One entire wall had been filled with a soothing picture of his alma mater, the University of Texas at Austin. With barely a ripple, it flickered out and was replaced by an image of Julien holding a bottle of water, seated on a couch in his Cupertino office. As exhausted as Grant suddenly felt, Julien looked worse.

“You’re working too hard.” Julien’s jaw was set in firm resolution.

Grant had seen that kind of intensity directed at others, but never at him.

“I mentioned that to you when we were at Reece’s bachelor party,” Julien continued. “I’d hoped Mexico would give you a break, encourage you to take a few days off. We waited for you at breakfast the last day, but Svetlana told me she’d flown you home the night before. We thought you were sleeping off a hangover. You were back at work.”

“You’re getting what you pay for,” Grant said. Which was a seven-figure income plus an ownership percentage that was worth more every year.

“Not even close.”

He blinked. “What the fuck?”

“I’m paying for the best of you, and I’m getting the dregs.”

“That’s a fucking unfair assessment, even from you.”

“Is it?” Julien slid the water bottle onto the table in front of him. Other than that, he didn’t react. “I need you to be fresh, creative, energized—an engineer who’s aware of the world around him. I’m getting someone overworked, overextended, who doesn’t know what day of the week it is.”

“I do.”

Julien waited.

“Thursday?”

“On the other side of the International Date Line, maybe.” He recapped his bottle. “I tried to give you a vacation. In Mexico. With Svetlana. You wouldn’t take it.”

“We only have a few months before—”

“You’re done.”

Jesus.
As if the tectonic plates had shifted, Grant reached for a table to hang onto. “You said we need something splashy for the show.”

“And we’ll have it.”

Julien was giving him a fucking headache.

“We have more than one team working on production, so I’m not worried about it. But you and Aria are going to be going to the spring show. And you, Grant, will be doing a presentation.”

Cold sweat arrowed down his spine.

“I will continue to do all the yearly debuts, but I need you to step it up. I need you, your help with store openings, some presentations overseas. This isn’t a surprise. The logical time for you to step in is when we open the store at Kennedy’s State Street Plaza building.”

“We’ve discussed this before. Being in front of people, doing show-and-tell is not my forte.”

“It needs to be. People want to see you, to meet you. And Aria is a great coach.”

Grant tried again. “But the hologram—”

“Will not be presented. Period.”

He met his friend’s gaze. “You’re serious?”

“Free up your brain. If ideas for the hologram come to you, you can work on it as inspiration strikes. But I want it to be fun for you. A diversion, not a deadline-driven monstrosity.”

“We’ve invested months—”

“You’re pushing a nut up a mountain with your nose.”

He frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Julien admitted. “Sounded better in my head before it came out my mouth.” He shrugged. “Bonds needs you—your creative energy—for the next fifty years. There’s a difference between working on something that ignites you and something you’re forcing.”

“But now I have nothing to focus on.”

“Representing Bonds is what you’re going to work on. You’ll be working with Aria. You’ll like her. Smart. Sassy.”

“I work alone.”

Julien laced his hands behind his neck. Now he had a big fucking grin on his face.

The two had been friends long enough that Grant recognized Julien’s look. The man thought he was being brilliant, as if he alone could see the mysteries of the universe, the way things clicked together to keep the planets in orbit.

“This should be interesting as she likes to be in charge, too.”

Looking at his friend, Grant asked, “Does she know anything about me?”

“I didn’t really have the words. So I figured I’d let you inform her.”

“You’re a world-class bastard, Julien.”

“Only do something if you’re going to be the best at it.” He unlaced his hands and leaned forward. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Listen, Grant. You need to get out a little. Talk to people. Interact.”

“You been reading self-help books again?”

“I never stopped.” More seriously, he continued, “I shouldn’t have let you live like a possum for years.”

“Mole.” As if anyone could have stopped him. Knowing he was losing, desperate not to, Grant forced his fingers to uncurl from the desk. “No stress there.”

“Different kind of stress. This is the good kind. It’ll fire you up.” Julien rubbed his hands together in front of his face. “Light up all your cylinders. Enjoy your visitor. I need you, Grant. More than ever. The world…nay, the universe”—Julien stretched his arms wide—“is yours to command.”

“You really have lost your mind.” For the first time, he wondered. Since he hated California and loved seclusion, he spent little time with Julien. Even though the back of his home was carved into a mountainside, rumors of Julien’s odd behavior, weird eating habits and bizarre demands had reached him. He’d thought Julien cultivated that image to confound people. Now he wasn’t sure.

“Keep Aria warm. She hates the snow.”

Snow? Grant looked outside again. It was difficult to see with the flood of lights he had in his workshop, but at this time of year, it was conceivable that the white stuff was falling. “I’m starting to see your point. I’ll go back to Mexico with Svetlana.”

“That ship has sailed.”

“Meaning I had my chance?”

“Meaning she’s met someone.”

He rocked back on his heels. “Someone better than me?”

“Imagine that.”

“He’s not scared of her?”

“Terrified.”

“Those legs.” Reputedly, she could break a man’s neck.

“I’m not afraid to say I’m a bit careful around her myself,” Julien confessed.

“That’s part of why you like her.”

“I adore women who frighten me.” With a wave of his hand, as if it were a magic wand, Julien vanished.

The sudden silence rang in Grant’s ears.

Ten minutes ago, every area of his life had seemed secure. Now… Nothing.

Svetlana had moved on. They’d only had an occasional, hot, mind-numbing, tongue-lolling hook-up. It was enough to sustain him for weeks. Months. And one time, even a year.

Genuinely, he was happy for her. Everyone deserved someone. More than he, she yearned for something to complete her. He was lucky he’d been able to play with her as often as he had.

But that, coupled with Julien’s pronouncement that Grant was off his pet project, cast him adrift for the first time since he’d left college. He’d always known what the next logical step was in his professional life. Suddenly he wasn’t even sure where the floor was.

Now he was expected to take in one of Julien’s strays, work with her, disrupt his solitude and his life.

At a loss, he told the computer to save his work before lowering a screen over the large sheet of glass he’d been using for his mathematical equations.

Then he wandered around his workshop, running his fingers over circuit boards, an ancient computer, screwdrivers, wires, precious metals, glass made from sapphires, from diamonds, all the things that made his heart beat.

What now?

Julien might have a point, Grant realized. He wasn’t fit for human company. Truthfully he hadn’t interacted with many people in the past few years, not since he’d moved—escaped—to New Mexico. He didn’t have a group of friends and the only people he saw regularly were those at his favorite restaurant, the grocery store clerks and his housekeeper. Each Tuesday, Daniella swept in like a mini tornado, cleaning, doing laundry, clucking over his lack of companionship, singing as she prepared a few dishes, stocking the kitchen with fresh produce and talking incessantly.

He realized now that he often went for days without talking to another person.

And Julien had decided to change that.

Fuck.
How long was Aria staying? At some point, Julien’s words had all blurred together, and Grant hadn’t heard any of them.

He strode to the console in the corner, pushed the buttons to reconnect with Julien.

The man’s voice reverberated through the room.
“The genius is offline. If you’ve reached this message, you should be too. Unless this is the President of the United States, call back tomorrow. If it is the President of the United States, I would have already been expecting your call so you wouldn’t have reached this message. So whoever you are, go the fuck to sleep.”
His voice was replaced by soothing music. A lullaby?

Good God.

Grant checked his smart watch. It was too late to call Daniella, but he could text her and ask her to make up the guest room first thing in the morning. Or… “Molly,” he said to the home’s computer, “remind me to send a message to Daniella to make up the guest room.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“I’m going to reprogram you if you keep calling me that.”

“You always say that, but you never touch my buttons. And I gave up on the knobs months ago.”

“Has Julien been in the system again?”

“Genius is as genius does.”

He shook his head to clear the gathering headache. Then he thought about food. He’d have to consider someone other than himself. No doubt she’d want to eat at regular intervals whereas he ate as, and if, the mood struck.

Irritation made his blood pressure rise.

What the hell did he know about having company?

That thought was less important than the next one.
How quickly can I get rid of her?

Knowing he needed to release tension, he placed his palm against the metal hand plate. The door slid open, and he touched the plate on the outside to close it again.

“I’m done for the day,” he informed the computer.

“It’s night,”
Molly corrected.

“So I’ve been told. Power save mode.” Meaning the air conditioning would keep the area at a precise temperature and humidity, and that computers and other electronics would go on standby.

Grant crouched to look at the dog sleeping peacefully beneath a window. They’d been partners for six months. He supposed that, at some point, he should give the pooch a name.