Chapter 90

Paola wasted no time filling up the forums and chat rooms during the two-day registration window for the piano competition. What thrilled her most was seeing her own carefully edited video featured front and center on the competition's official website, playing for everyone on an endless loop. Enthusiastic viewers did not hesitate to call her a genius, saying she played as though music was a language she had always known.

Things could not have been more different for Rylie. The whispers were merciless. All through those circles,people pointed out that she had put her name down for the auditions as well, yet there was not a trace of her performance anywhere. The silence was enough for everyone to assume that she had been bluffing all along, only to be unable to put together a single noteworthy piece or even pass the first round.

Brock had a new routine now. Besides handling daily work reports, he found himself keeping tabs on anything and everything related to Rylie.

"People are turning on Rylie, and the Owens haven't stepped in. The word is that she's about to get cast aside by them," said Brock as he finished reading the latest messages.

Brad glancedup, a thoughtful look flickering in his eyes. "Do you know what she's been doing lately?"

"She's stuck to her old habits. She just shuttles between the university's lab and the military base, not much else. She hasn't gone back to the Owens' place. Do you think she's really been hurt this time and can't bring herself to return?"

Brock's voice wavered for a moment, but he continued, "Maybe you should go see her."

The suggestion hung in the air while Brad's fingers hovered above the table."Why get involved in someone else's family drama?"

He knew exactly what would happen if he went. That young woman would look right at him with steady,unfazed eyes, saying, "I don't need you to step in. I'll take care of myself."

Picturing that, Brad raised his eyebrow. Despite being so young-barely past twenty-she carried herself with a level of grit and composure that most people never developed.

She refused to lean on anyone. That kind of self-reliance was troubling.

On impulse, Brad stood, reached for his coat draped over the back of his chair, and walked out of the office.

By the time Rylie finished her chaotic shift in the lab, tension knotted her shoulders. She shrugged off her lab coat and checked her phone out of habit.

A message from Freddy at Aetheris Pharmacy waited for her."The Kirk family in Crolens is offering up 70percent of their company if you can fix Nicolas's leg. Are we moving forward or not, Boss?"

She studied Freddy's words, tapping her finger on the desk while she weighed the Kirk family's financial standing.

Not long ago, the Kirks had been worth less than eighty million, and now seventy percent of that sat on the table. The offer was far from impressive.

Still, a quiet smile played at her lips. Rylie decided she would accept.

Someone from the community near the military compound had gone out of their way to pack her a thoughtful lunch. No sooner had Rylie taken her first bite than the routine quiet was interrupted.

The lab door swung wide, and Brad strolled in. He had draped a jacket over one arm, his white shirt open at the collar, revealing the sharp lines of his build beneath the fabric.

Across the room, he spotted her-hunched over in a corner, working through a mysterious lunch. As she met his gaze, there was a brief flicker of confusion in those almond-shaped eyes, with a stray bit of food clinging stubbornly to her lips.

He walked over, his attention snagging on the mystery vegetables in her bowl. A frown creased his brow. that what counts as lunch these days?"

The sudden interest from him caught Rylie off guard. "Why? Did your health take a turn again?"

Setting her meal aside, she stood and reached for a fresh pair of medical gloves."Go on, sit down. Tell me what's hurting you."

Brad kept his real reason for showing up to himself. Easing into a chair nearby, he offered a half-hearted complaint. "Feels like something's off with my neck. Could be the meds, I don't really know."

Surprise flashed across Rylie's face. "Your neck is the problem?"

She picked up a medical flashlight, holding Brad's jaw with one hand while the other cast a warm yellow light across his sharp features.

The closeness between them was evident. Brad caught the mix of clinical sterility and a subtle trace of something sweet drifting from her.

"Any tingling or numbness lately?" she asked, her tone thoughtful.

He shook his head. "Nothing like that."

She motioned for him to stick out his tongue. Her hand cradled his jaw as she peered into his mouth,thoroughly focused.

Brad remained motionless, letting her work. His breath slowed, and the steady rise and fall of his throat betrayed a sudden awareness. He found his eyes wandering to her lips, barely a breath away from his own.

One stubborn grain of rice clung to her lower lip, trembling slightly with every breath- a detail that reminded him of a kitten caught in the act of sneaking a treat.

Without much thought, Brad reached up, his thumb brushing across her mouth. "You've got a bit of lunch right here."

Rylie went utterly still. The warmth and roughness of his fingertip, toughened by years on the shooting range, sent a ripple through her nerves.

The next second, she jerked upright. The penlight slipped from her grasp, bounced once, and rolled away.

While she collected herself, Brad lingered in his seat, an amused grin curving his mouth. "Didn't expect that much of a reaction. Did I embarrass you?"

Rylie crouched down to retrieve the penlight. Her heartbeat steadied as she glanced back at him. "There's nothing wrong with your neck. Tell me, why are you really here? Is it possible you missed me after a few days apart?"

The sharpness of her reply caught Brad off guard. Closing the gap between them, he shifted into her space."So many stories are flying around these days. I started to wonder if you'd lost your drive for research.That's why I showed up-to make sure you're all right and to see if you want a hand."

Scanning the leftovers in her lunchbox, he frowned at the heap of roots and scraps of meat. "Is this what's left for you? Did the Owens finally turn their backs on you?"

Arms folded and voice flat, Rylie shrugged off his concern. "Looks like I'll be on my own soon."

His steady composure wavered as Brad's eyes met hers, a rare graveness taking hold. "Then maybe you should let me look after you instead."