Deciphering Cox

By Albert Nelson

Oliver Cox isn't your typical arrogant, conceited millionaire who tucks a different woman into his bed every night. For him that doesn't matter. The only way he wants to succeed is by leading his company to success, and so far, he's succeeding. Owner and CEO of Cox Tech, he has everything to be happy; money, success, fame, and even unusual beauty. However, he is missing something, and he is willing to do whatever it takes to get it. Rachel is a virtuoso, she has always been better with machines than people. A young, outgoing and very independent girl who enjoys being carried away by her imagination to create innovative applications and technological gadgets. She is the best in her field and desired by all companies. His life takes a one hundred and eighty degree turn when his boss asks him to travel to New York to temporarily work on a joint project with rival company Cox Tech. He never imagined that signing the girl of the hour to his company would be so complicated. She never expected to be attracted to the arrogant jerk who keeps insisting on wanting to hire her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Albert Nelson
• Release date: Mar 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215025918

Book preview

Chapter 1

I put on my protective glasses and breathe slowly so that my pulse does not tremble.

Gregory, zoom in three millimeters, I order. Right, watch out in case you have to intervene. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the robotic hand move up and down, nodding. Left, hold it very carefully. The robotic left hand moves, dislodging the lens from its holder and messing up all day's work. Shit! I take off my plastic glasses and toss them on the table. Left, what part of very careful did you not understand?! We have to start over. Gregory, create a three-dimensional map that I can work with. If I have to continue depending on these two useless, it will take forever to finish the prototype.

Right now, Rachel, he says immediately.

I turn to the projection table and watch as a 3D model of the lens I'm working on begins to appear. When finished, it will be one of the gadgets of the twenty-first century, contact lenses that act as a guide to whatever you need. The user will be able to read their emails, instant messages from their mobile phone, check their social networks... All with a single blink of an eye.

This is what I do, I create things. Robots, cutting edge technology... That's my thing. Luckily I am able to make a living from it thanks to Braincom, the company I work for. Our arrangement is simple, I continue to line their pockets with my inventions, and they leave me alone in my huge house in Malibu, just west of Los Angeles, and see to it that my bank account is never in the red. They win and so do I, since I can do what I'm passionate about without anyone bothering me.

Zoom it up, I order, looking at the blueprint Gregory just created. It shouldn't be hard to get all the circuits in. The problem is eye moisture. I have to manage to hide the entire mechanism between the layers of silicone hydrogel. Have you placed the new order, Gregory?

"Yes, Rachel. He'll be here first thing tomorrow. By the way, you asked me to remind you about your lunch date with your mother.

—Right, call her and cancel. I don't have time today," I say without taking my eyes off the map.

"You've already canceled twice.

That sounded like a recrimination, I point out, smiling.

-Nothing is further from reality. I'm just looking to please you, Rachel.

-Oh okay. Do not say that again. It sounds too porno and can be misconstrued. We don't have that kind of relationship.

-Understood. Mark is calling, are you going to take the call?

No, tell him I'll give it back to him later, I reply, going back to the table to try to work again with the real contact lens.

—You told him that yesterday and also the day before yesterday. I don't think he still believes it. Can I give you another excuse?

"No, just tell him I'm busy.

I already have, and he insists on talking to you. Now he's threatening to show up here if you don't answer him.

I huff and put the tools on the table.

Schedule video call, put it on the big screen, I order.

A few seconds later, the face of my handsome young boss covers one of the walls of my workshop. He is impeccably dressed, as always, in a charcoal gray three-piece suit, white shirt, and navy blue tie.

Rachel, are you going to stop ignoring me once and for all? I remind you that I am your boss, he says in a pissed off tone. His thick accent is strange to me. I've been living in the United States for six years, and I still can't get used to the American accent.

-Hi boss. Good night to you too. Shouldn't you be asleep? I ask with false kindness.

It's ten in the morning, so no, I shouldn't be asleep, although I bet you haven't stepped foot in the bed, again.

"You don't step on the bed, Mark. You lie on it, no...

You understood me perfectly, he cuts me off. He huffs and straightens his tie. Why haven't you slept?

I'm working to keep you a millionaire. If anyone is to blame for my insomnia, it's you," I lie.

Actually, I hate sleeping, because every time I close my eyes, I can't stop the images from my past coming back to torture me.

We need to talk about your trip to New York, he says, changing the subject.

"There's not going to be a trip to New York, Mark. We have a deal, I keep working and you don't bother me with paperwork or bureaucracy. That's how we work and we do it great. Now, if you don't have anything else to say, I'd like to keep working in peace.

"Rachel, you won't be able to get away from this. I know we have an agreement, but this project is very important. Cox Tech are our biggest competitors.

That's exactly why I sent you the plans for the project over a month ago. My work with them is finished." I shift my gaze to the work table and return to pick up the tools to continue working. Now if you'll excuse me...

"Rachel, please. I know you don't like this, except that Mr. Cox himself, the owner of the company, has requested that you be present in the production process. The expo is in three months and we cannot make mistakes.

"Mark, everything is going to be okay. Every year our projects top the list of the best at the expo, and this time it will be no different. Smart contact lenses will be a fact and the happy exoskeleton that we are working on together with Cox Tech too. They are the ones who should worry, not us.

—They have a million-dollar contract with Lockwell Aeronautics just like the rest of our competitors. We're the only ones who've turned down all of his offers, and I've done it for you.

I look up at the screen and frown.

Are you seriously going to play that trick with me? You know full well that Lockwell Aeronautics are a weapons manufacturer, and my technology will never be used in that way. We are supposed to work to make life easier for people, not to feed the arms industry.

'I know, and I feel the same way, but Mr. Cox has spoken directly to the shareholders and they are getting nervous. I cannot justify your continuing to not accept Lockwell's proposals.

"You are the senior partner and the representative of the company, you will do well, Mark. You can with them, you just have to believe in your capabilities.

—Thanks for the self-help tips, I really need you to travel to New York to calm things down. I'm playing my neck.

I snort, assuming that I won't be able to continue working today and pinch the bridge of my nose with two fingers.

"You're killing me, Mark. I hate those executives who wear their ties even to sleep. They think they know everything and can direct the lives of everyone.

I remind you that I am one of those executives, he points out, smiling.

Do I have to stay until the expo? I don't like those events.

"Rachel, every year I receive the award in your name. It would be nice for once to be around, mingle with people, get to know you... Fame, adulation, all those things most guild engineers would kill for.

I grunt because I want to get my ass licked by a few executives as much as I want to have a tooth pulled without anesthesia.

-Alright. Give Gregory the dates and have him book the flights." Mark makes a victory gesture with his fist and grins from ear to ear. I'm warning you, if they piss me off, I'll be back on the first flight and I don't give a shit if fucking Mr. Cox throws a tantrum.

"Okay, I'll warn him not to push you too hard.

"And Gregory is coming with me, so...

—Don't worry, I'll make sure that everything is adapted for him. Do you need anything else?

—Yes, I want a workshop in the place where I stay, so no hotels. I'm going to stop by the Cox Tech offices, talk to the lead engineer, and then go home and continue working on the lens.

Have you made progress?

Yes, I have everything ready. I just need to mount it so that the contact lens is comfortable and that it does not blind anyone.

Yes, that's important, he says, smiling. You will make it, you always do. I'll make sure you have everything you need. By the way, you have to be there the day after tomorrow. have a good time Bye bye.

The call drops and I stare at the black screen like an idiot. Day after tomorrow?

Son of a... I hiss. I take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose again. I can't believe you convinced me to do this. Gregory, do you have everything?

"Yes, Rachel. Right now I'm booking plane tickets. You leave first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Great, I mutter hopelessly. Do you want to know New York?

I already know New York, he answers in his usual mechanical tone. Actually, I know every corner of the planet.

If you were a man, you'd be a very lucky one, I comment, standing up. I stretch my back muscles and move my neck from side to side to release some tension.

In that case, I'm just lucky, he replies.

I smile looking up at the roof of the workshop, as if that way I could look directly at him.

Was that a joke? You're getting better, friend. The next thing will be to find you a girlfriend. I'd volunteer, but you're not my type.

I think I'm missing something essential to be your type, he points out.

Another joke? And this time sexual. Today you are going out, boy —I joke.

"Actually, I was referring to the body in general, not just an appendage to it.

Either way, that appendage is indispensable to me, I say after a laugh. Well, if we go to New York tomorrow, I'll have to rest for a while, before I'm going to talk to my mother. Go make me a coffee and call her, this is going to take me a while.

Right away, Rachel, he says immediately.

I hear his voice loud and clear through the speakers and I can't help but smile. Gregory is my personal assistant and my best friend. Actually, he's my only friend and he's not even flesh and blood. He's just a consciousness made of wires and circuits, but I trust him more than any human being. Gregory can never let me down because he's not programmed for that. That's my guarantee and that's why I love it.

I close the workshop that is located in the basement, and I pass by the elevator to take the stairs that lead to the main floor. The sunlight that enters through the windows that make up the wall throughout the house blinds me for a few moments. I love my house, really. It is modern, surrounded by nature and with unbeatable views of the Pacific Ocean, only at times like this I would like it not to be so bright.

Gregory, close the curtains, I order, walking into the kitchen.

The whole house is decorated in light tones, white, beige, cream, light brown, that creates an atmosphere of peace and harmony that I usually enjoy, although right now I am not harmonious at all. I haven't slept for almost forty-eight hours and tomorrow I have to travel to New York. Just thinking about it makes me angry.

I walk into my huge kitchen, neatly arranged thanks to Gregory and his helpers, Left and Right. I've always thought that an extra pair of hands would be nice, so I created two robots with articulated mechanical arms that can move around the house thanks to the wheels that are built into the platform on which they are installed. And voilà, I have free home assistants. Obviously they don't have the Gregory matrix. They're much simpler and dumber than a pin, but they almost always get the job done without too much trouble. Apart from my voice orders, they also take Gregory's orders, and that makes my life much easier. My assistant is always aware of each of my needs. That said, if he had a body, especially a certain appendage that he himself mentioned before, I would marry him without hesitation for a second.

I take a sip from my coffee cup and let out a moan of pure pleasure. I'm English, and even though I'm supposed to love tea, I can't stand it. However, bitter coffee is one of my weaknesses.

Call in progress with Mrs. Doris Taylor, Gregory informs me.

There are speakers installed in every room of the house so that he can communicate with me, and as if that weren't enough, I can also talk to him through my state-of-the-art mobile phone. So I take it everywhere. Honestly, I wouldn't know what to do without him anymore.

Put it on the kitchen screen, Gregory, I order.

Right away, I see my mother's face. It's beautiful, as always. She does not look her age at all and that is something that makes her proud. Before she married my father, Doris Taylor was an actress with a fledgling career in the world of Hollywood movies. Obviously, when she managed to get out of that marriage, the years had passed, the big producers had already forgotten her and she became another unknown face in the middle of a crowd. She says she's not sorry. She lives like a queen with the millions she took from my father in the divorce, and honestly I'm glad for that. At least someone came out ahead with that... I take a deep breath to not think about him and focus my attention on the screen. My mother has been chattering non-stop for a long time.

Don't you say anything, daughter?

You haven't let me talk yet, Mom, I point out after taking a sip of my coffee.

Shall we eat together tomorrow? You've been putting it off for several weeks. I know that your work is important to you, only that you could take at least an hour to eat with your mother.

He pouts and that gesture reminds me too much of my brother Josh. He always looked much more like our mother, although we both inherited the color and shape of our eyes from Dad. However, Josh's gestures, the way he spoke and expressed himself, were always identical to Mom's.

-I can not tomorrow. I have to travel to New York for work.

My mother frowns in surprise.

-Travel? You never travel. You live locked in that glass house like a hermit working until you drop.

Well, this time I can't get rid of the trip. And I'm not a hermit, mom. I go out from time to time. I go to dinner or to the movies. I also go out for a drink or to dance with a friend.

It's a lie, you don't drink, he points out wrinkling his nose.

"I drink every day, mother. If I didn't, I would die. I don't drink alcohol, which is very different. And I do not lie. You know I like to be alone, sometimes I go out to have fun.

Any notable friends you want to tell me about? he asks, changing his face. A catchy smile appears on his face, infecting me with his enthusiasm as well.

"Nobody important, mother. I prefer to keep my sexual life apart from the sentimental one.

—You do well. To fuck as if there were no tomorrow, and then each one to his house. If I had done the same, now my life would be very different.

And Josh and I would never have existed, I remind him.

That's the only thing I don't regret, honey. By the way, speaking of your brother...

Mom, I have to hang up, I say, cutting her off. I already know what's coming next and I'm willing to do anything to stop listening to it. I'll call you when I get back and we'll go eat together, I promise. Bye, I love you." I blow the screen a kiss and tap a button on my phone to hang up.

I take a deep breath, setting my mug down on the counter and squeezing my eyes shut. I would like to be able to sleep three days straight, but I know that's impossible, so I'll have to settle for bad rest for a couple of hours before going back to the workshop and continue working.

As I climb the stairs to the upper floor, avoiding the elevator again, I hear the first notes of the song Boulevard of broken dreams by the group Green Day. I smile up at the ceiling like I always do when I want to talk to Gregory.

I thought you might like to listen to some music before you try to sleep, he says over the speakers.

"Thanks, Gregory, it's just what I needed.

I'm here to serve you, Rachel, he answers making me laugh.

Okay, we've gone from porn to slavery, I point out between laughs.

Chapter 2

As soon as I leave the airport, I see a middle-aged man, dressed in a suit and tie, holding a sign with my name. I approach him, holding the strap of my backpack over my shoulder.

Are you Miss Rachel Taylor? he asks me as soon as I stand in front of him.

That's right, just call me Rachel.

Charmed, miss. I'm Hank, Mr. Cox's driver. She has asked me to come and pick her up personally. I can go get your luggage, if you like.

I point to my backpack and shrug.

—This is all I bring, I appreciate your offer. Well, to your boss, I think I can manage on my own.

The man looks a little out of place, smoothes his navy blue hat over his head and insists again.

Miss, I'm afraid I have to take you. I have orders and...

"I get it, Hank, I really do. I don't want to create any kind of trouble for you, but there's no power in the world that can get me into a car. It's been enough being cooped up on the plane for five excruciating hours. Don't worry and tell your boss that I'll be arriving at his offices soon.

"But, miss...

"Rachel, just Rachel, Hank. A pleasure to greet you - I wave goodbye and go directly to the rental car area. I turn on my phone and hit the button that allows me to talk to my assistant. Have you made the reservation for the motorbike, Gregory?

Of course, he answers immediately. It is in your name and the invoice uploaded to Braincom's account. You just have to pick it up.

You're the best, mate, I reply, pressing the button again and putting the phone in the back pocket of my jeans.

As I wait for the nice girl at the ticket counter to take care of my reservation, I can't help but think how much I'd like to be home right now. I hate traveling. Being locked in a metal machine at forty thousand feet makes me frantic. I am exhausted from the simple fact of trying to bear the anxiety that this situation was causing me.

Here you go, Miss Taylor, the girl says, handing me a key. You can find it in the private parking lot of the airport. If you have any problems, just contact us and we'll fix it right away.

Thank you very much, I answer, hanging my backpack over my shoulder again to continue on my way.

People look at me strangely when entering the private parking lot. This is a luxury car rental company, and I don't look like a rich woman who drives a Ferrari or a Rolls Royce. Despite my ripped jeans at the knees, my Nike trainers, and the scuffed leather jacket I'm wearing, I'm perfectly able to afford to rent the beauty in front of me. Luckily Mark pays, for being clever.

I pull my hair into a high ponytail to put on my helmet and climb on the back of a brand new black Triumph Rocket 3 beauty. I start the engine and accelerate. The two thousand five hundred cubic centimeters and almost one hundred and seventy horsepower reverberates in the parking lot in the form of a snore, it makes my skin crawl with pure pleasure. I'm looking forward to getting it out on the road and letting it run. This bike is freedom in its purest form, one that I plan to enjoy right now. After wirelessly connecting my phone to the helmet, I pull out of the parking lot on fire.

It only takes me half an hour to get to the financial district of Manhattan. The traffic is impossible, I barely manage to avoid it. That is one of the advantages of riding a motorcycle. Following Gregory's instructions, I stand in front of a huge building with the name Cox Tech in red and black written in large letters above the door. It takes me a few minutes to find a parking space and I head straight for the building with my backpack slung over my shoulder and my helmet in my hand.

Walking into the reception area, I see a bunch of well-coiffed executives with briefcases pacing around. While riding the black beauty, I almost forgot what I came here to do and how much I hate it.

I snort and walk towards a counter where there is a blonde girl, perfectly dressed and made up as if she worked as a magazine model in her spare time. She wears a headset in her ear and types non-stop on the computer in front of her.

Good morning, he says to me as soon as he notices my presence. Welcome to Cox Tech. How can I help you?

I'm here to see Mr. Cox, I say, placing my helmet on the counter surface.

The girl looks at him and frowns as if I've just spit on the perfectly polished, gleaming red and black granite.

Mr. Cox doesn't see anyone without an appointment, he says, wrinkling his nose at my pints. Call your secretary to make an appointment and pray that she agrees to see you.

Suddenly, Miss Smiles, shows the face that is not reserved for the exclusive people who pass in front of her. Typical, a textbook snob.

Miss... I look at the badge on her chest and smile cynically, "Mathews. You haven't even asked me if I have an appointment with Mr. Cox.

Do you have it? he asks, raising both eyebrows haughtily.

-Well I do not know, really. But if you tell him I'm here, I assure you he'll let me through. He's been waiting for me for a long time.

I doubt Mr. Cox is expecting...—another disapproving glance at my outfit without even bothering to hide—"someone like you. Sorry, you have to make an appointment with your secretary.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down and not break the neck of the uptight snob in front of me with a slam of my helmet to her head.

-Alright. Let's say I want to make an appointment. Could you provide me with the contact of your secretary?

Sorry, I'm not authorized to give you that information, he replies with another fake smile.

So how the hell am I going to make the appointment if I don't have a way to contact her? Miss Congeniality shrugs and starts typing again on the computer as if I weren't there. The mother who gave birth to Barbie is here," I mutter trying to stay calm. Miss Mathews, I really would love to stay here chatting with you, but Mr. Cox is waiting for me. If you'd be so kind, just tell him that Rachel Taylor has arrived.

As soon as he hears my name, his entire posture changes and his face turns livid.

-Oh, my God. Are you Rachel Taylor? He jumps up from his chair like a spring and looks at me in panic. I'm so sorry, Miss Taylor. Mr. Cox is waiting for you in his office.

That's what I've been saying for ten fucking minutes, I hiss sulkily.

Yes, excuse me, please. Here - he hands me a pass with my name written on it and points me to the elevator area -, take the elevator up to the sixteenth floor, to the address.

Sixteen? Sixteen fucking floors? My day is getting better by the minute, yes sir.

Where are the stairs? I ask rudely.

-Sorry? Miss Snob looks at me like I've grown three heads and one of them is cross-eyed.

—The stairs. You know, that thing that is used to go up and down when there is no electricity or in case of fire. I think that if you think about it a little you will know what I am talking about.

-Yeah, of course. Access to the stairs is through that door, but are you going to walk up sixteen floors?

I like to play sports in the morning, I spit without even bothering to look at her face. I also know how to act like a son of a bitch when I want to.

I rush out to the door he indicated, and prepare to walk up sixteen fucking floors. I hope I don't have to come here very often or I'll be devastated. Although looking at the bright side, I'm going to have a very cute ass.

Laughing at my own stupidity, I start to climb the stairs one step at a time. By the time I get to the tenth floor, I've already cursed Mark and all his unborn descendants for walking me into this fucking mousetrap. Why would I let myself be convinced by that bastard?

As soon as I step on the sixteenth floor, I hold onto the wall and take a deep breath, trying to fill my lungs with fresh air. It doesn't work too well, as I end up with a massive coughing fit. When I finally manage to catch my breath, I dress myself up a bit by shaking out my clothes and letting my hair down. Not that I care too much what these stiffs think of my appearance, especially Mr. Cox. From what I've heard Mark say about him, he has a reputation for being an insufferable prick. I imagine him in his fifties, somewhat beefy and balding. He's probably one of those guys who wears the buttons on his jacket as a dirigible weapon. As soon as they relax, they dash off, risking taking an eye out of anyone within two meters.

Taking a deep breath once more, I open the door to the first floor, then enter a living room decorated in shades of black and red. The floor is granite of the same colors. I think I'm going to see them a lot around here. With what I like white, this can not be better.

There are several doors on the floor, on all of them there is a plaque with an engraved name and surname. I guess they will be the offices of the big bosses. I walk over to a table outside the biggest door in the place, it appears to be solid oak and it's black in color... And guess what... Yes, red. I just got here and I'm already fucking red and black up to my nose.

Good morning, says the girl sitting across the table as soon as she sees me. This at least isn't blonde. She has straight brown hair, slightly lighter than mine, high cheekbones, and large blue eyes. How can I help you?

I'm here to see Mr. Cox, I reply.

-He has an appointment? he asks narrowing his eyes.

There we go again, I think to myself. Seeing this fucking man is harder than getting a fucking Justin Bieber concert ticket.

—Miss, if you are going to tell me that I have to ask your secretary for an appointment, you can save it. I had this same conversation with the smiley lady at the reception on the ground floor. Mr. Cox is waiting for me. Just tell him that Rachel Taylor has arrived.

The girl tries to hold back a smile when she sees my angry face.

"I am Mr. Cox's secretary, and I can assure you that you do not need an appointment to speak with him, Miss Taylor. I'll tell him it's already here. He's been waiting for her for a long time.

Thank you, I reply with a sincere smile.

Now I feel bad for treating her like this. This girl doesn't look so bad. After speaking into the receiver in his ear, he ushers me in with a wave of his hand.

"Through that door, Miss Taylor. Mr. Cox is waiting for you.

"Thank you very much, uh...

"Shana, you can call me Shana and give me the first name, please.

Charmed, Shana, I'm Rachel. You can keep the lady's thing - I wink at her making her smile and I adjust the strap of the backpack on my shoulder starting to walk towards the huge door. Now let's go for the old bald man, I whisper to encourage myself.

I can't wait to get to wherever I'm going to live while I'm in this city for a relaxing bath. It's almost noon and I haven't had a fucking cup of coffee yet.

I knock on the door with my knuckles and without waiting for an answer I open it wide and enter the office. I don't know why it doesn't surprise me to recognize the two favorite colors of this company in every corner of the room. Even the carpet that dominates the place is black, with the letters Cox Tech written in red in the center.

You're late, Miss Taylor. A husky, manly voice forces me to look up quickly. My eyes widen and I feel my jaw almost drop as I look at the hunk of man in front of me. Delete old, bald and fat. This man must not be much older than thirty, his hair is short, a jet-black color that blends perfectly with the marked features of his face and those two sapphires that he has as eyes. The fat thing... I look at him from top to bottom. The navy blue three-piece suit adapts to each of his muscles, which from what I can deduce at first glance are quite a few. Definitely not what I expected. Miss Taylor, aside from being late, are you also going to stand there staring at me?

I nod and check that I haven't left a trail of drool on my chin. I straighten up and smile to the best of my ability.

Are you Mr. Cox? I ask, just to be sure.

—It says so on my door plate and also on my identification document. I take it that you are Miss Taylor, right? He holds out his hand to me and I accept it immediately. I'm not going to miss the opportunity to touch this hunk of hunk. Nice to meet you. You are not at all what I imagined you to be.

His tone is serious and calm, there is no hint of a smile on his face, not even the typical courtesy one.

"Just Rachel, please. You are not as I imagined either.

Have a seat, he says, pointing me to an armchair in front of the office desk.

His voice has sounded so authoritative, that I would swear that more than asking me, he just gave me an order. Let's not go there, Mr. Cox, I think. I'm not good at being told what to do. Every time someone gives me an order, I feel the irrepressible desire to contradict them.

Pushing aside all my urges, I take a seat where he's pointed and place my backpack and helmet on the ground beside me.

It's been hard for me to get to you. The receptionist didn't want to let me in, I comment, brushing my hair back with my fingers.

I notice that his two sapphires do not lose detail of each movement I make. I have to fight the urge to move around like a puppet to know if he'd keep looking at me.

-It is logical. We have dress codes in the company and you don't comply with them at all," he reproaches me.

Okay, we're off to a very bad start, Mr. Hot Guy. What the fuck do you care how I'm dressed? I put on my best fake smile and shrug.

"I'm sorry I didn't live up to your expectations, Mr. Cox.

His gaze narrows, like he's holding himself back from yelling at me or something.

I thought the English were more punctual, he declares, surprising me.

Now he blames me for being late, that wouldn't have happened if his fucking receptionist hadn't kept me up.

And I thought the Americans were nicer, it's clear that we were both wrong, I reply arrogantly.

If you think you can screw me, take it clear. I don't care in the slightest what he or his stuffy bunch think about me. Those things have long ceased to matter to me.

Miss Taylor...

Rachel, I correct.

"Miss Taylor, I want to make you a proposition.

-You will say. "I know what you're going to tell me. Mark warned me when we spoke just before boarding Los Angeles.

I want you to work for me. Whatever they offer you at Braincom, I double it. I need someone with your talent in my company.

Thank you, Mr. Cox, I'm just not interested. I'm here to work on the project that Cox Tech and Braincom are co-presenting at the New York Tech Expo. I already have a job, I don't need another one.

"I can