Layla leaned forward, her elbows propped on her knees, and massaged her temples. If this kept up, she was going to have a raging migraine.
She lowered her hands and noticed the pale pink band of skin where her engagement ring used to be. A pang of sharp regret hit her hard. She never should have said yes. Sure, she cared for Ty, but . . . But she couldn’t help who she was, and she couldn’t change either. Calling it off had been the decent thing to do. She had the engagement ring reminder to show for it, and this one she couldn’t take off.
The only thing left was work. Work kept her focused, her mind from wandering, which was becoming a problem. Work was important. She raised her gaze to the ballroom door. She had no patience for waiting. Too long, and she’d begin to see things.
On cue, the door clicked and opened. Thank goodness.
Layla was startled to recognize Adam Thorne, the man himself, as he strode in.
She started to rise, but he waved her down, dragged a chair out from the table, and lowered himself into it. He was tall, a little too lean, and had a handsome face lined with stress and worry. Exactly how the man who bioengineered the wraith disease should look—except for the handsome part.
Still playing lost hiker, she sat slowly back into her chair, twitched a smile on her face, and innocently asked, “Can you please tell me where I am? The man who escorted me to this room wouldn’t answer any of my questions.”
Thorne lifted a brow. Not buying her story either.
In the spirit of plausible deniability, she forged on. “Though, naturally I am very grateful to have been found. I’d been lost for hours. . . .”
Thorne shook his head slightly, raising a hand. “Ms. Mathews, save your breath.”
Layla closed her mouth, heart stalling. He knew her name, which she hadn’t yet given. The jig was officially up.
“What would possess you to wander unescorted on private property you know very well is dedicated to wraith research?”
Layla straightened to cover the sudden tremor that ran over her body and lifted her own sarcastic brow in spite of the rapid pounding in her chest. “You let them out to roam the woods?”
“I don’t need this today,” Adam muttered. He cocked his jaw while he regarded her. “For the record”—he gestured to her backpack—“do you need a little notepad to write this down?”
“I think I can remember,” Layla answered, narrowing her gaze as the zaps in her brain got faster. If he wanted her to take notes, he wasn’t likely to feed her to the wraiths today. Just give her the official line and then the boot.
Right. She wasn’t about to let him off that easy. Not the man who’d released a pandemic on the world. How to pin him?
“As our press release clearly states,” Thorne began, “Segue researches wraiths and other paranormal phenomena. We have the cooperation and backing of the United States government, as well as formal agreements with seven other countries. We are a target for wraith attacks, as any intelligent person in the know might surmise.” He smiled slightly. “Now, once again, why would you roam the private property—in a wild, wooded area, no less—of an institution dedicated to eradicating wraiths?”
“I was drawn by the building’s beautiful architecture and fascinating history,” she answered as the wheels turned in her head. Where to start?
“I’m trying to save your life here.”
Layla gave Thorne another smile. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”
“All evidence to the con—”
Ah! “What was The Segue Institute’s original mission?” she interrupted. She didn’t expect him to fess up to the calamity of the wraith disease and give her the data to show the world, but maybe she could make a little headway, a small dent in his smug reserve.
Thorne blinked his confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“When you paid a whopping ninety-six million to found Segue nearly eight years ago, what did you plan to do with the place? Do you have a mission statement from that period?”
He frowned. “What are you getting at?”
“The time line established by the World Health Organization places the first cases of the wraith disease at seven, not eight, years ago.” Layla watched Thorne’s face subtly harden. Hit a nerve there. She pinched. “Segue’s formation predates the WHO’s wraith disease time line. So what were the good scientists at Segue up to during the year before the outbreak?”
Thorne shook his head. “The WHO’s time line is off by several years. The wraiths were already firmly entrenched by the time I started Segue. Segue’s primary mission has always been to research wraiths.”
Layla cleared her voice delicately. This part was fun. “But you just said that you are working in cooperation with the U.S. and international governments. Why wouldn’t you give the WHO the most accurate information? Presumably others are doing their own research, and identifying ground zero for the wraith outbreak would be critical to those efforts. Why would you, in fact, hamper them?”
Thorne’s lips parted but no sound came out.