Alexa’s feet made a sad and hollow sound on the garden path as she wove her way through the maze of trees and flowers. It was hard to believe that, just last week, being at the Netherfield’s house had felt like a treat. Now, all she wanted was to be outside of it, in air that didn’t feel more and more like a hospital with each passing day. Billy had insisted Jemma be brought there and put up in a guest room because he couldn’t stand the thought of her staying in the actual hospital. The doctor came by every day, and Billy barely left her side.
Not to be outdone, Alexa had been staying in another guest room straight across the hall. She appreciated Billy’s thoughtfulness, but being a long-term guest in the Netherfield’s house wasn’t easy. Billy’s older sisters had never liked his relationship with the Babbage sisters and had done everything possible to separate him and Jemma. When that didn’t work, they just had to settle for being rude. But that was the least of Alexa’s worries now. Jemma’s cancer was back, and the doctors were still assessing how bad it was.
Alexa slumped against a tree trunk, burying her face in the bark. She didn’t know she was going to scream until it tore out of her throat, one long, wordless wail. The noise sent a cascade of birds flapping out of the trees. The garden settled back into silence after that—except for a single, snapping twig.
Alexa looked up, expecting to see Billy, or worse, his sisters. But instead, it was Damian. Billy had been right that he was staying at the house, and it was another thing that made her life there tense and miserable, plus ensuring she locked her door every night. She avoided him as much as she could during the day, though she sometimes found him watching her with his hawkish eyes from across the room, and she often couldn’t help but be snide with him. And maybe that was because, deep down, she was afraid. Now, though, all she did was glare.
“You can’t scare me, you know.” And in that moment, it was true. With Jemma sick, parts dealers had lost their terror.
Damian raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Why would I want to do that?”
Alexa just shook her head, disgusted. She pushed off the tree and plunged back onto the garden path. But it didn’t take her long to realize her footsteps weren’t alone this time. “Quit following me, Damian.”
He trotted up to her side. “You can’t believe everything you hear. Not even from your precious Winston.”
Alexa stopped walking, exasperated. “Oh, right. Because he treats me like a human being and you treat me like scrap metal. Ugly scrap metal. I can see how that might be hard for you to believe.” She laughed without humor. “The face is asymmetrical. The eyes are too big. The body is all wrong.”
“You have a good memory,” Damian acknowledged.
Alexa huffed and took off again.
He kept pace with her, much to her annoyance. “Look, I shouldn’t have said it, okay? It was stupid. You can’t believe I’m all bad, though. Billy likes me.”
“Billy likes everybody. He’s like Jemma.” In spite of herself, her voice cracked over the name.
“I’m sorry about your sister.”
“You should be,” Alexa said venomously. “It seems to me like everything was fine until you showed up.”
Damian’s steps faltered. “You can’t blame me for that.”
Alexa set her jaw and said nothing. She knew it was stupid drawing a connection between him and Jemma’s cancer, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of taking it back.
Damian’s voice was several steps behind her now. “You’re saying you won’t talk to me at all? Not even if I tell you it’s for your own good?”
Alexa turned to face him. “I find it hard to believe that you care about what’s good for me. I’m sure if you need to talk about your little business, though, you can talk to your family. Consult your parents’ old playbook, or maybe your sister.”
Damian’s face flushed red. “He should have left Gigi out of it.”
“And you should have left me and my sisters out of it. So I guess we’re even.”
She didn’t want to listen to anything else he had to say, but she couldn’t help but hear it when he called after her: “Be careful, Alexa. Jemma’s not the only one you need to worry about.”
Alexa hurried back inside, and though she never would have admitted it, the threat rang in her ears even that night as she locked and pushed a chair in front of her door.
***
The taxi laid on its horn as Alexa tried to cross the street too soon.
She jumped back onto the curb, waving sheepishly.
It slowed as it approached her, and the driver’s window rolled down. A skinny, middle-aged driver leaned out. “Hey, lady. Do you need a ride?”
Alexa smiled as patiently as she could. In truth, there was nothing she would have liked better than a ride. The day was already getting warm, and heels hadn’t been the best choice. But all she did was grit her teeth and say, “Thanks, but I’d rather walk.”
The driver shrugged and pulled away.
Alexa watched it go longingly. Taxis were out of the question. Everybody knew they had metal detectors, just like most businesses these days, and a bot could never pass through without setting them off.
Alexa shouldered her purse. She would just have to make the best of it.
She crossed the street more carefully this time. The spring in her step wasn’t what it had once been, and it was only partly because of the heels. Already, it was hard to remember what it had been like to be happy. Before the strict Artificial Intelligence Laws. Before Papa started advertising on the black-market. Before Jemma’s cancer returned. Just once, though, she tried to push that all to the back of her mind and focus on the positive.
She’s driven to New York City today (with her not-exactly-legal license) to hang out with Winston in a street café he assured her was free of detectors. So much had happened since Billy’s party that she wasn’t sure if Winston would be meeting the same girl who had invited him to that party. Either way, she hoped he would like what he found.
Alexa was so absorbed in her own thoughts and the pain in her blistered feet that she didn’t hear the engine creeping up the alley behind her until it revved especially loud. She looked over her shoulder to find a stalling motorcycle. And sitting on it was the unmistakable Damian Pemberley, dressed as always in his black leather gear. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Before Alexa could open her mouth to respond, he grabbed her by her shirt collar and lifted her into the air. She yelped but had no time to scream or fight back before she was in the seat in front of him and the motorcycle was speeding away.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” Alexa shrieked, repeating his question back at him. “LET ME GO!”
“And let you kill yourself?” Damian snapped. “It’s tempting, I admit. But not today. Not ever, actually.”
Alexa squirmed uselessly, but the wheels were moving too fast and Damian’s hands were firmly around her waist.
“I can’t do this anymore, Alexa,” he said impatiently.
“Do what?” she yelled. “Kidnap me?”
He kept talking like he hadn’t heard her. “I’ve tried everything. Told myself everything. What you are. What your family is. But I can’t help it. It’s all I think about.”
“You’re making no sense,” Alexa complained.
“I think I’m saying I’m in love with you.”
Alexa hurled herself sideways out of the seat so suddenly and with such force she tipped the entire motorcycle off balance. The metal sent up a shower of sparks as it grated against the road.
Alexa was prepared for the worst, but she landed in a row of bushes outside an apartment complex. Damian followed right after her, landing half on top of her with only one arm holding him up.
Alexa wanted to kick him off of her. She wanted to scratch and struggle so hard he would regret ever following her to New York, ever interfering in her life. But his eyes, so dark they were almost black, held her frozen in place, their spell over her as strong as ever, and the waves in his hair brushed her forehead. The sun was at his back. So when he leaned in closer, she didn’t kick or scratch. She relaxed and closed her eyes, thrilling at the sudden pressure on her lips, parting them. Something about the feel of him was both strange and familiar, and all she knew was that she wanted more. She threw her arm over his back and pulled him closer, all her senses drowned in the overpowering scent of leather.
“What is this?” The voice broke them apart.
Damian rolled away from her and Alexa found, standing over them, an angry policeman and a small, gaping crowd. “This is a public street, folks,” the policeman drawled. “You kids’ll have to take that somewhere else.”
The crowd laughed.
Alexa could feel her face burning, and suddenly, she didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or rage. She jumped up out of the bushes and pushed through the crowd.
“Hey!” the officer called to Damian as he hurried after her. “What about this here motorcycle? HEY!”
Damian grabbed her arm as she stumbled in her heels. Alexa ripped it away, wheeling around on him. “WHAT AM I DOING!” she exploded, giving words to the feeling that had been simmering in her ever since their mouths broke apart. “I HATE YOU! YOU INSULT ME! YOU INSULT MY FAMILY! AND THEN YOU…” She couldn’t even say it. It came out as a howl of fury.
Her anger was contagious. Damian flushed. “You expect me to be happy about it? You expect me to like what your dad does in his basement? You expect me to feel okay about what your ‘sisters’ are? You expect me to love that you’re a—a—”
“SAY IT!” Alexa shouted, and she meant it. She wanted him to use the word out loud, and she didn’t care who heard it.
Damian gritted his teeth and spoke quieter. “You’re. A. Robot.”
Alexa didn’t expect it to hurt, but it did. She covered the pain with a vicious smile. “You’re right. I am. And that should make it much easier for you when I leave and never see you again.”
Damian turned from bright red to bone pale. “You can’t do that.”
“You don’t own me, Damian. I’m not your bot.”
“You’ll be his if you don’t watch yourself. Don’t trust him, Alexa. I know what he’s told you, but I know Winston. I’ve seen what he can do.”
Alexa shook her head in disgust.
The policeman appeared just then at the end of the block, waving his arms. “Hey! You!”
It was the opening she needed. Alexa darted across the road, grabbing the door handle of a taxi and wrenching it open. Immediately, the metal detector let out an ear-splitting scream.
The driver turned to stare at her in horror, but Alexa threw a wad of cash from her purse into his face. “Shut up about it,” she snapped.
The driver was still wide-eyed, but he turned around and didn’t ask any questions.
An hour later, she was back in her own car, speeding down the interstate. She’d had all she could take for today of meetings in New York, and somehow, though she tried to grind it with her wheels into the dust, she couldn’t get Damian’s last words to quit keeping pace with her in her mind.
