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  She shrugged. "Money bores me. I realize it makes the world go around, but I don't spend much time in the real world, Mr. Cheng. My mind prefers other pursuits." Which she supposed was the strict truth. She didn't think about money because she didn't have to. She thought about other things like life and death. Like survival. "I spend most of my time working on things others don't understand, and that's all right. My programs, hopefully, will be a contribution to the world."

  "There isn't a lot here about your earlier life."

  She frowned at him. "What does my earlier life have to do with my work?" She kept her voice mild, as if barely interested. She kept her heartbeat the exact same rhythm, and that took just a little extra work, but she knew it was possible her vitals were being monitored just by her sitting in the chair he'd chosen for her.

  "I like to know everything about anyone I do business with."

  "I'm not a businesswoman, Mr. Cheng. I lecture. I get paid to lecture. I give talks on exciting new breakthroughs in the world of artificial intelligence. That's what I thought you wanted from me, and knowing anything other than my credentials is not really helpful. I can assure you, my credentials speak for me. I'm regarded as one of the leading experts in AI and machine learning. I thought you were aware of that."

  "I'm very aware of that, Miss Hightower," Cheng assured. "It's just that you're far younger than I thought you'd be. I noted your age, of course, but thought it was a typo."

  His gaze flicked several times to Zhang, and more than ever she was certain they were somehow determining if she was lying or not. She liked cat-and-mouse games. She was good at them. She was fairly certain his secretary, or whoever prepared the report on her, wouldn't dare give him a report with a typo. His secretary wouldn't survive the hour.

  "My age does sometimes give people pause, but I graduated with honors, I assure you," she said with a small shrug as if she didn't care whether he believed her or not. She uncrossed her legs to switch them, drawing their attention immediately. Once comfortable, she moved her foot, clad in a sexy blue high heel to match the blue jacket she wore, around in lazy circles. That always seemed to mesmerize males. It worked with Zhang, but not with Cheng.

  "You disappear for long periods of time."

  He made it a statement so she smiled sweetly at him as if waiting for a question, making him ask.

  He sighed. "Where do you go?"

  She shook her head. "I don't really think what I do in my downtime is any of your business."

  "You're more of a consulting professor for Rutgers. I want to know where you go, Miss Hightower. You're asking me to trust you around my researchers."

  She stopped the lazy circles, planted both feet solidly on the floor and leaned toward him. "Let's get something straight, Mr. Cheng. I'm doing you the favor, not the other way around. I said no over and over. I made it clear I wasn't interested in your money. You may think I agreed to speak to your people because the money was too good to pass up, but it was because you intrigued me. You were that persistent. I thought the research mattered to you. If you keep insisting on playing this silly game, I would very much like you to ask your driver to return me to my hotel."

  "Have I offended you with my questions?"

  Zhang interrupted, once again in his language. "Let me take her to the interrogation room, Mr. Cheng."

  "That's it." Zara stood up, glaring at Zhang. "I can't believe how rude you're being when you invited me here. Please return my briefcase and escort me down to the car."

  Cheng stood as well. "Mr. Zhang will be leaving us. I'm sorry for his rude behavior. Mr. Zhang, send in Mr. Zhu." He indicated the door with a jerk of his chin and it said something for the fear his people felt, even those closest to him, that Zhang hastened toward the door.

  "Please sit, Miss Hightower. I'm used to people trying to spy on us, stealing what we've worked hard to develop. Just a few weeks ago, a spy escaped with valuable information. It set us back months."

  Zara kept her heart from accelerating, but it was difficult after hearing the name Bolan Zhu twice. She knew all about him. He was Cheng's right hand and probably far more feared even than Cheng. He was the interrogator sent in for difficult subjects. Most people never got near him. He was the man Cheng trusted more than any other. Little was known about Zhu, until he served with the army.

  Zara decided it was better to appear to cooperate than have Bolan Zhu threaten her. It was one thing for Zhang to do so, but Zhu was a different matter altogether. She sank into the chair and gave a pretty little moue with her lips. "I'm sorry. I think I'm being temperamental because I'm tired and your Mr. Zhang wasn't the most welcoming."

  Cheng looked up as Zhu walked through the door. Bolan Zhu was tall and wore a very expensive suit in a dark charcoal. He gave Zara a small smile as Cheng introduced them.

  "So nice to finally have you here, Miss Hightower," Zhu greeted. "Cheng has spoken of you often. He is a great admirer of your work."

  Clearly the man was as charming as he was lethal. Her information on him included the fact that he enjoyed traveling abroad and when he did, he visited clubs nightly. He was considered quite a ladies' man, and Zara could see why. He was extremely handsome. She gave him a smile and sat a little straighter.

  "That's nice of you to say," she murmured, lowering her lashes. She felt rather than saw the two men exchange a look. They bought that she was a little affected by Zhu's good looks and charming manner.

  "Miss Hightower was just going to tell me where she disappears to when she isn't at the university, which is often," Cheng said.

  "It's a little embarrassing," Zara said, acting reluctant. She snuck a quick glance at Zhu as if talking in front of him was the reason she would be embarrassed. "I work very hard for long periods of time without sleeping or sometimes eating. I realize it isn't the best thing for my health, but I just can't remember to eat or sleep when I'm on to something. I've been known to wake up in the middle of the night and use my walls for paper to write on. I often take breaks, sometimes just a couple of weeks, but often longer, to regroup. I go on retreats where I don't have access to a computer, phone or television. I have to shut out the world entirely. Sometimes I sleep for twenty-four hours straight."

  "That makes sense." Zhu jumped to her defense. "Cheng told me you were a child prodigy, one of the leading AI experts at a very young age."

  "It's such a fascinating idea," Zara said, pouring enthusiasm into her voice, hoping neither man would realize she hadn't answered the question of where she'd been. Only what she'd been doing. "Artificial intelligence is a growing field, covering so many things that could be useful. People have the mistaken idea that it is just robotics--although that alone is amazing and forward-thinking--but it's so much more."

  "We spend some time and energy on robotics here," Cheng said. "You think that's a waste of time?"

  "No, of course not. It's just that artificial intelligence can be used in a much broader scope. I don't want any student to get bogged down thinking in a box, just thinking one thing. Already we have small examples of machines learning. They can help so many people. On a small scale, people stuck in houses can just ask their devices to order food or supplies for them. If an elderly man or woman falls in their home they can call out to their device and have it call for an ambulance or family member. The possibilities are limitless."

  There was genuine enthusiasm in her voice. She sat up straight and her face lit up. Her eyes did. She was very aware of the changes in her and allowed them. She wanted Cheng and Zhu to see she was exactly what she said she was, a very young professor who believed in exploring artificial intelligence.

  "Why did you choose a subfield like machine learning versus something else, like robotics?" Cheng asked.

  "I like machines. I like programming, not that I do much of that anymore myself, but numbers speak to me. Machines are logical." Her long lashes fluttered and she made a small face. "I get carried away when I talk about my work. Please forgive me. What else do you need to know b
efore I give my talk to your people, Mr. Cheng? I don't want to take up any more of your time than I need to. It's getting late, and I'm certain your employees need to get home."

  "They would wait all night to get a chance to ask questions of you, Miss Hightower," Cheng said. "Your briefcase has few papers we can understand. Your code appears to be unbreakable. Did you devise it yourself?"

  She burst out laughing. "The few papers you can understand are used for my talk. The others are sequences of numbers I put together when I'm working out a problem in my head. It soothes me."

  "Hasn't anyone ever stopped you, believing it's a code of some kind?"

  She shrugged. "It's happened, but eventually they realize it's nothing but me doing something repetitious that helps me think."

  Cheng's brows came together and he regarded her with skepticism. "Didn't you have trouble coming into the country with those papers?"

  "I only had a couple of papers with numbers at the time and someone assured those holding me that it's no code but random sets of numbers repeated over and over on several pages. That ensures everyone thinks I'm a little eccentric, which I probably am."

  "That doesn't make sense," Cheng said, suspicion in his voice.

  "It does if she's OCD," Zhu pointed out, looking straight at Zara. "Those random numbers are repeated in sets of three."

  Zara didn't change expression and she kept her heart rate exactly the same--a nice steady rhythm as if she didn't have a care in the world. As if she wasn't sitting in a room with two deadly vipers ready to strike at any moment. Zhu's answer meant he'd looked at those papers.

  A timid knock announced the arrival of the tea. It was Zhu who physically got up and opened the door. Zara found that fascinating. He didn't call out to the woman carrying in the tray; he got up and took the tray from her. She never entered Cheng's office and Zhu lowered himself to carrying the tea tray. He set it on the small table in front of Zara. She knew she was really in trouble. Zhu didn't care what others thought of him. He didn't stand on protocol or ego. That made him very, very dangerous.

  Was Cheng so paranoid that he didn't allow anyone into his office? Probably, she decided. "I don't mind pouring the tea for everyone," she said, pitching her voice low, almost submissive. "I don't know if that would be offensive to either of you. I'm unsure of the custom when there is no other woman in the room."

  She knew Cheng would never pour her tea. He'd already stepped far back as if that would save him from having to do such a menial task in front of her.

  Zhu had no such problem. He simply smiled at her and shook his head. "We are very modern here, Miss Hightower. I have no problems pouring you tea." He suited actions to words, picking up the little pot and pouring the liquid into three cups.

  She watched very carefully, making certain he didn't put anything in the tea. He poured quickly and efficiently, his long fingers looking incongruous on the small cups. He was mesmerizing. Frightening, but mesmerizing. Bolan Zhu was a very scary man. He appeared modern and sophisticated, very charming with his white teeth and startling green eyes. His shoulders were wide, filling out his suit beautifully, and when he walked, he seemed to glide.

  She noted that he served Cheng first and her second. They weren't quite as modern as they wanted her to believe. She took the cup of tea, observing that Zhu's index finger touched the rim, sliding around it in one continuous motion. The drug was on the outside of the cup, not the inside, but it was where her lips would go no matter where she placed them. Zhu also took a cup and deliberately brought it to his mouth and drank. Cheng also drank. Both watched her.

  Zara had a couple of choices. She could drop the cup and "accidentally" break it, or she could drink it and hope they weren't trying to kill her. She suspected Zhu would interrogate her and whatever drug he'd just introduced to the rim of the cup would compel her to the tell the truth. She lifted the cup to her lips and sipped. She had to take the chance. She knew if she didn't, Zhu would probably incarcerate her, and that wouldn't go well for her at all.

  "Have you been taken around the city at all?" Zhu asked.

  "No. I haven't had time. I've been here four times, and mostly I see the inside of hotels or facilities where I've been asked to speak," she said, taking another sip. She looked at the liquid in the teacup. "This is exceptionally good. I don't think I've ever had this before and I order tea all the time."

  Zhu sat in the chair closest to her, and Cheng seemed to fade into the background. "All our teas are made from one single plant, did you know that? It's actually an evergreen shrub that can grow into a small tree and live over a hundred years. It grows in southeast China and the leaves are harvested year round."

  He watched as she sipped at the tea. She smiled at him. "Well, it's excellent."

  "Why did you come here?"

  "I was invited, of course. I don't like to travel that much anymore, so I only go where I'm invited." She frowned. Something was definitely working on her brain. She had to puzzle it out fast. "That's not exactly true. I turn down a lot of invitations as well. I travel to the countries I'm interested in. Ones that are beautiful, but then I don't get to see them because I'm working."

  Was she babbling? It sounded like it to her, but the words just tumbled out. She had to rein it in. Think. Force her brain to process whatever it was, and work around it. She was good at repeating numbers in her head. That would lessen the effect of the drug on her. She watched the reactions of the two men and realized they expected her to babble and blurt things out. Well, she could do that.

  "You find our country beautiful?"

  "Don't you?" she countered. "It's so alive. I love the people." She didn't have to lie about that. "There are so many things to love." She put her fingers over her mouth as if embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I don't usually carry on this much." She took another sip of tea, careful to keep her mouth in exactly the same place. She didn't need a larger dose of Zhu's truth drug. Was it a new strain? Something that didn't slow her mind. It had to be a new strain. This wasn't making her slow and sleepy. It wasn't slowing her brain at all. What was it doing to her? She continued to count sequences of numbers in her head and solve intricate problems. It helped to clear her mind of the effects of the drug.

  Zhu leaned into her, took her teacup from her and placed it on the table. Very gently he turned her hand over and stroked her wrist once. Something slithered through her mind, something unsettling that coiled hotly in her belly. He was looking at her differently. Not with the eyes of a viper, but more like a predator--a wolf or a tiger, something with teeth about to pounce. Her heart jumped. Stuttered. His fingers pressed into her wrist, right over her pulse, and she forced calm when she felt more threatened than ever.

  "Do you wish Mr. Cheng harm?"

  Her gaze leapt to Zhu's face. "Harm? Of course not. He seems a very nice man. He asked me to talk to his employees. I thought perhaps they would benefit from my work." She needed to blurt something out. Something true. "You have a really beautiful mouth. I should know. I notice mouths all the time." That was a truth that seemed to come flying out. She put her hand over her mouth again and tried to pull her arm away at the same time.

  Zhu smiled at her and clamped his fingers around her wrist, but so gently she almost didn't realize he was holding her still. "Thank you. I was thinking the same of yours. What is the true reason you've come to see us tonight?"

  His voice was extraordinary. She almost told him so, but that calm she called on, the one that kept her heart from beating out of control, thankfully prevented her from blurting out that he was mesmerizing. Spellbinding. "I came to talk about a new project my team has developed to Mr. Cheng's chosen researchers, the ones he thought would be interested in my work."

  Her eyelashes fluttered at him because she knew it was expected of her. She wasn't a flirt. She never flirted because it would be fruitless to flirt. She couldn't have a relationship with anyone. She was forever alone. Now that her best friends were gone, she was truly alone.

  "You look sa
d."

  Those long fingers stroked her arm, sending more ripples of awareness snaking through her. It was more unsettling to her than if he'd put a gun to her head. "Do I? I guess I was thinking sad thoughts."

  "Tell me."

  "I lost my best friends recently." She lifted her chin, making her eyes go wide in seeming surprise that she'd blurted out such a personal detail. "That's personal and not pertinent to what I need to be doing here. Please take me to this group. It's already late, and I'm getting tired." It wasn't the drug making her tired, but she knew it made her susceptible to Zhu and his mesmerizing voice. She could feel his pull on her. She kept up the numbers running in her head, combating the drug in the only way she could.

  Zhu immediately pulled back and looked at Cheng, who nodded. "Mr. Cheng thought you might like a tour of the facility. He's very proud of it and the work environment he's created here. It's a haven of sorts for his people. They're very loyal to him. He provides apartments, day care, and even exercise rooms." He stood up and gently tugged on her hand until she was up with him.

  The touch of his skin on hers sent an electric current sizzling through her. What was that? She hadn't experienced it before. Not. Ever. The drug wasn't a date rape drug, but it was something that made her respond chemically to him. In her mind, she gave a delicate shudder. She knew such things existed and they could even be permanent--causing the woman or man to be obsessed with the person giving off the pheromones.