AIYA

I can't believe nothing happened. I leave Ken and Wish alone for an hour, secluded in a small room with no one to disturb them, and what do I get? Nothing. That's what. I thought maybe Wish was being secretive or bashful when she returned to the Gathering, but it turns out nothing happened. Zip. Nada. Ken completely confirmed that later when I caught him flirting with a server in the back, trying to score some booze. Sometimes I question if we're related.

I slam my car door shut. Downtown Lawrence is peaceful this time of the day, early morning just after the sunrises. Stores come and go over the years, high rent turning small businesses away, but when Misty's decided to take a chance and move in two years back, I followed suit. Their morning bagels are to die for. Freshly baked, soft, with homemade butter and jam to slather on. Their coffee is excellent, too, brewed from imported beans, but I've been more of a Frappuccino girl.

After putting a few coins in the meter, I enter the establishment. Bacon and eggs waft in the air, along with bitter coffee and small chatter from the few customers who are morning birds. There are few tables to sit at, more of a come-and-go eatery, but at this time of day, there are many seats available. Except for one, near the back, at the table I usually sit at.

It's not a popular location to sit at, being close to the bathrooms and away from most of the customers. But that's how I like it. The lone table is the perfect place to see all, hear the gossip from those standing in line and the barista's making coffee. People watching is a specialty of mine. So, when I find a nuisance at my table, it only irritates my already tired morning brain.

My eye twitches as I try to make casual conversation at the register. The line is quick for a Monday morning and by the time I get my bagel and fresh cup of hot chocolate, because it's still cold April, I approach the nuisance and sit comfortably down across from him.

"You'd think someone with a Ph.D. would be above stalking. Wouldn't be the first time I'm wrong," I say. "What do you want, Gregori Concerto?"

While I take my time slathering my bagel in creamy butter and strawberry jam, Gregori takes his time sipping from his hot cup of coffee before replying. "Coincidence. I've heard rumors at work that Misty's was the best place to grab a cup of joe in the morning."

"Your office is in Kansas City, and if memory serves me correctly, you live in Overland Park. In some posh apartment complex that's gated and guarded and very much in the opposite direction." I set the knife down. "You can drop the act. I know my mother sent you."

He takes another sip, trying to appear calm, but his tapping finger on the table says otherwise. "She may have told me where you eat in the mornings, but it was my decision to come meet with you."

"Meet with you?" I stand from my seat. "I never agreed to see you for breakfast, let alone stalk me in my favorite establishment." I go to grab my bagel. "I'd say it was nice meeting you, Gregori Concerto, but that would be a lie—"

"Wait." He grabs my wrist, instantly letting go when I flinch. "I'm sorry. I..." I just stare at him, wondering why I'm even waiting at all. He digs his fingers into his curly hair, tapping his heel now under the table. "I'm sorry for everything. I don't normally approach someone like this. It's not in my nature to be so direct, but I have no options left."

I shouldn't give him the time of day. He's been nothing but a nuisance. But it's also the first time a guy has apologized to me. Yes, I'm confident and too honest, and for some reason people feel like it's okay to put me down and never apologize for it. Their words should mean nothing, when they aren't even my friends, yet it hurts deep in my heart.

So, I slowly sit back down and decide to give this guy some slack. Gregori eases against his chair, and for the first time since we met, I notice how tired and scared he is. "What does my mother have on you? It can't only be money."

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and peers around the establishment at the growing customers and chattering filling the small space. When it seems the noise level is high enough to cover whatever secrets he's going disclose, he leans closer in, halfway across the small square table, creaking the wood beneath his weight.

"I'm a designer baby," Gregori says. "Specifically, my genes were altered before birth." His shoulders sag as if years of baggage slides away. "I'm not the first, and certainly, not the last, but it's still illegal in the U.S. You can imagine the kind of trouble that will befall my family if this ever got out."

It would not only shut down BioGENEtics, but everything they worked so hard to achieve. The government and FDA would recall the medicines and treatments that are saving countless lives his family has been actively curing for the past century. They are the first one's to discover a cure for Alzheimer's, the first one's to find a way to slow the progression of aging, people are living longer and healthier lives with sharper minds. Memory clinics are now being replaced by more independent living facilities.

They've practically discovered immortality and that will all vanish in a blink of an eye.

"Why? How?" I ask a little too loud, then lower my voice. "Your father must have known the repercussions. Why would he do this?"

Gregori rests his forehead in his palms. "It was my grandfather. He pressured my father into it, and in a sick twisted way he wanted to see it done," he says. "You have to understand. My grandfather didn't care about what is ethical, or saving the world, for that matter. He created cures using plants and medicine just to prove to his colleagues that he could. Then he created me to prove to himself that he was a god."

He was no god. Just a selfish prick who couldn't see past his own nose, and yet... he is the cause for so many people being alive today. It's just sick to think BioGENEtics was started by such a disgusting man. My mother's infatuation with Gregori makes sense now. She wants to use the research they have on altering DNA. It's been my mother's life long dream to be an all-powerful woman. What kind of power is she hoping to achieve with this information?

I cross one leg over the other, taking bites of my bagel. The strawberry jam sparks my tastes buds, waking them for the horrible Monday and my 8 a.m. class. Some might say the jam is so red it looks like blood, a fan favorite during Halloween when they dye their bagels black. I've always loved the color, red reminds me that no matter how normal I perceive my life, it will never be without blood on my hands.

"Sounds like you're in a real bind," I say, dapping a napkin at my mouth. "Here's what I propose: you stop being my mother's lackey and come work for me instead." Gregori tenses. "I know. I know. Working for another Andreatte isn't the best idea, but it's not the worst. You told me your secret because you've done your own research on my family—"

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did. Who doesn't do a background check these days?" I scoff. "Anyway, between the two of us, you decided I am the better option. Now, I can't take you away from her completely. She will always hang that secret over your head until the day she dies. But I can ease away the burden so you no longer feel so obligated to her."

More customers are walking in, chattering on their phones and looking at their watches, waiting forever in a line that stretches out towards the door. Two students walk up to the counter, Freshman by their appearance, giggling and whispering as they so obviously check Gregori out. He's gone back to lounging against the aluminum chair, nonchalantly drinking his coffee and appearing in-control when he's nothing but.

I start leaning in, then change my mind, deciding it's better to scoot my seat closer to him, appear more friendly than the few times we've met. "My mother has been running my life since the day I was born," I say, smiling. "I refuse to let her choose who I'll live with the rest of my life. But that doesn't mean we can't pretend."

His fake smile broadens into a hearty grin. Flirty and clearly there to appease anyone who's spying on us. "Did we just enter a rom-com?"

The man can make jokes. I laugh under my breath. "No, Doctor. I don't do romance." My finger circles the rim of my to-go cup. "I want your brain. Not your body. Whatever knowledge you have stored in that head of yours is worth more than money can compensate."

He rests an elbow on the table, leaning closer, but not too close where we look inconspicuous. "So, how do we go about this? Do I take you out on a date or inform your mother we're together—"

I stand up, pushing the chair back with such force the legs squeak on the cement. A few customers glance our way, curious at what happens next. Good. We need an audience if we're to going make this work. "Dr. Concerto, I'd say it was a pleasure eating breakfast with you, but I'm not a fan of surprises. Next time, call me and I'll consider going out with you."

My watch beeps, notifying me that I have an hour left before my first lecture begins. Without another word, I leave Misty's, dumping trash in the bin. This plan may not be solid, it may be actually stupid on a few levels, up there with Wish and her crazy ideas, but I know for a fact my mother will never give up. Once she enacts a plan there's no turning back.

The only way I can stop this is to outsmart her. Have Gregori join my side and gather information that may be useful in the future. After all these years shadowing her, I've realized one thing: I have to dethrone my mother in order to live my own life.