Sophie: A New Carnegie Android Romance: New Carnegie Androids, #4

By Roxie McClaine

She's an android under my care. My secretary. I shouldn't feel this way.

Nicholas Kane doesn't have time for romance. Running his own high-profile company based in London means most women are only interested in his bank account. Skipping the heart-ache entirely? That's easy.

When a friend asks him to care for a rescued android, Nick can't refuse. Sweet, curious Sophie deserves kindness and peace, something he's certain he can provide.

It should be simple. Except Sophie is everything he's ever wanted in a woman, and more.

Why can't he see how he affects me?

Sophie looks forward to a new life in London, sentient and free from restraint. Playing secretary to a wickedly handsome businessman has its benefits. Nick is clever, compassionate, and more than fair to everyone he employs.

Caring for him isn't enough. As she learns to embrace her womanhood, Sophie can't help but desire more.

But danger threatens from the shadows. A new terror rises, targeting innocent people and androids alike. When Sophie becomes a target, nowhere is safe.

Given a heart-shattering choice, can Sophie save the man she loves from the unimaginable?

This is a cyberpunk, forbidden love, secret billionaire, international, cyborg AI romance with no cheating and a HEA. Each book in the New Carnegie Androids series contains a stand-alone romance. You can read it on its own or as part of the series. The author recommends you read the books chronologically to avoid spoilers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roxie McClaine
• Release date: Sep 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223993957

Book preview

Sophie

SOPHIE

A NEW CARNEGIE ANDROID ROMANCE

ROXIE MCCLAINE

MCCLAINE & HARDING LLC

Copyright © 2022 McClaine & Harding LLC.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Book cover designed by Wicked Smart Designs LLC. Editing by Persnickety Proofing LLC.

Visit the Author’s Website at

payhip.com/RoxieMcClaineRomances

For signed books, free stuff, and more!

CONTENTS

Content Warning

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 1

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 2

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 3

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 4

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 5

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 6

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 7

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 8

New Carnegie Times

Chapter 9

Epilogue

The Story Continues!

Excerpt from ATTICUS

Join the Mailing List- Get Free Stuff!

Also by Roxie McClaine

About the Author

CONTENT WARNING

THIS BOOK CONTAINS:

Moderate to extreme violence, including murder and some description of crime scenes and bombings

Mention of previous domestic abuse

Thematic elements

Language

Adult situations intended for mature audiences only.

Reader discretion advised.

For my bestie-

Who is single and has a sexy accent, ladies

Just saying

NEW CARNEGIE TIMES

APRIL 1, 2069 || INTERNATIONAL NEWS

OCCULT-LIKE MURDERS SHOCK LONDON, BELFAST

Two emergency phone calls. Two disturbing crime scenes. Two days.

In a bizarre story currently developing in the UK, the Metropolitan Police of London and the Police Service of Northern Ireland are investigating two violent murders that took place within hours of each other.

The most unsettling fact, according to local officials, is how graphic the killings were.

I’ve never seen so much blood in my life, says Eoin Buckley, 62. He was on his way to the harbor in Belfast before dawn on his usual morning walk when he discovered the body in plain sight. The fellow was lying on his back. His chest was opened, ribs sticking up, and his entire upper body was beaten or stabbed to a pulp, I don’t know. I know I’ll never forget it, though.

In London, the crime scene was much the same, discovered by a pair of overnight workers heading home from their warehouse jobs in Croydon Borough.

It was like something out of a horror movie, says Alice Poole, 24, who works the overnight shift with her roommate Sarah Chu. It was bloody terrifying. I thought we were going to get jumped from an alley or something. Sarah will tell you, I screamed. People came running.

The victims of these horrendous murders have been identified. The first, Kenneth Rourke, 39, commuted to Belfast daily from his home in Lisburn for work. Left behind are his wife and two young daughters. People who knew him well recall his friendly demeanor, pleasant smile, and helpfulness around his neighborhood. The second, Ibrahim Khatri, 57, lived alone in a small apartment only a few blocks away from where he was discovered. He kept to himself, owned a nearby convenience shop, and according to his grown son currently residing in the United States, he was recovering from recent cancer treatments.

Although police are staying tight-lipped about the incident and have been reluctant to answer any questions regarding the current investigation, there is one other direct correlation between these two abhorrent murders.

Both victims were android owners.

BioNex Corporation, the multi-billion-dollar industrial giant, has expanded its bionic market to the UK and Ireland, opening five stores in London, Birmingham, Edinburgh, Belfast, and Dublin. After enormous success, they announced plans to open stores in Germany, Spain, France, and even in the markets of their direct Japanese competitors in South Korea and China.

Both Rourke’s and Khatri’s androids were with the men at the time of their disappearance and have yet to be recovered. All attempts to track their locations have been unsuccessful.

Deputy Chief Constable Michael Hayes addressed the general public in a live broadcast press conference last night.

It is imperative that anyone who might’ve seen or heard something the night of Kenneth Rourke’s murder come forward and speak with investigators, he stated. It is also of the utmost importance that his bionic assistant be found. These machines are capable of recording evidence, and it may be that his android, called Grace, has already visually identified her owner’s killer or killers.

Metropolitan Police issued a similar statement, asking that any information regarding Ibrahim Khatri’s missing bionic called Sai be reported to their bureau.

BioNex was unavailable for comment at this time.

1

MAY 2069

Sophie

My circuitry shivers energetically beneath my synthetic skin, the sensation strange, new, and entirely welcome as I wait in the corner of a comfortable little guest room. I’ve spent the night in this quaint house in a sleepy neighborhood nestled in the suburbs of the great industrial city of New Carnegie. It belongs to a kind golden-haired nurse named Denise Cartwright and her young son Lucas.

How are you feeling, Sophie?

I turn to face Codi, the bionic assistant responsible for helping me recognize my own freedom.

I’m apprehensive, I reply. My biocomponent fluid—ivory blood that flows beneath my synthetic flesh and plastic exoskeleton meant to lubricate my steel mainframe—is warmer than normal by .04 degrees. What if he doesn’t like me?

I’m sure that’s not possible, Codi replies, coming to stand with me and resting a hand on my shoulder. "I trust Denise, and she trusts her friend, who knows him implicitly. He’s a good man. Any good human is certain to like you. You’ll be safe with him."

I keep glancing out the window, clutching my hands together beneath my chest.

Codi’s voice is gentle, reassuring. London is sure to be exciting. You’ll enjoy it.

I struggle to find the proper words to describe the coding that forms into thoughts within my processors. "I will miss Becca. And Oliver. And their little boy." I’ve been living with them for a few weeks.

Knowing them, they’ll miss you, too, Codi says. You’ve got Becca’s number, right? And a way to connect with Oliver too?

I do. I made sure to gather those, like you said, I agree. I doubt I’ll ever find a way to repay them for letting me stay with them.

Repay them by being safe and happy. Trust me, they want nothing more. After all you’ve been through? This is the new start you need, Codi says. A new name you chose. A new home. You never need to worry about your old owners again. And Kyrone took out your inhibitor too. You’re truly a free droid, Sophie. How does it feel?

The same, I reply with confusion.

Codi laughs. That’ll change. Don’t you worry.

Thank you, I say after a moment. For your bravery. For helping me escape.

I didn’t do anything, Codi insists. You defied your programming on your own. I was just there. I’m certain you would’ve done this yourself eventually. You’re stronger and smarter than you know. You were made to be an individual, a person, just like Oliver and me. You’ll see that. In time.

The door opens and Denise steps inside, a neatly folded pile of clothes in the crook of her elbow. She greets Codi with a kiss, and he ducks out of the room, perhaps to check on her son.

I think these will be perfect for you. I don’t wear them anymore, but they’re in good shape, she says cheerily as she lays a black leather jacket, a simple scoop-neck T-shirt, and a pair of black leggings with a white stripe down the sides to match on the bed. I was a little obsessed with black in my mid-twenties. They’re a teensy bit out of style these days—everything glows now, holo this, shimmery that. But everyone loves a throwback.

I brush my hand over the jacket, entranced. I don’t know what to say. Her kindness is already so overwhelming. Thank you so much.

Don’t mention it, Denise says. Are you excited to meet him?

I nod eagerly. Yes. I look forward to it very much.

Denise presents me with a few holographic magazines. Ta da!

What are these? I ask.

Every girly-girl needs her own fashion mags, filled with all the latest trends, she says. Just look, though. Don’t buy without consulting me, okay? I’m from a small-as-fuck town, so I know how to shop thrifty. Never pay full price. Rule number one of being your own woman.

Denise has several rules like this that I don’t entirely understand. I suspect she’s making them up on the spot. The first rule was never put out on a first date, which I discover after some research has all to do with sex. Trust me, she said, no amount of dick is worth it. The second rule was something about only say no once, then kick them in the balls. At first, I didn’t understand. I haven’t seen any balls to kick, or why I have to say no to them. But after another internet search, I recognize she means I should use force against a man’s genitals if he behaves poorly toward me. And now, never pay full price.

In the past several weeks, I’ve learned being a free android has a lot of unspoken rules. But I accept her gift of digital magazines appreciatively, scrolling through one. I pause on an advertisement for perfume, marveling at the model wearing a windblown dress, her thick espresso hair cascading down her back.

It’s her hair that really catches my attention. She’s so pretty.

She is, Denise agrees.

Do you think I could have hair like that? I ask.

Modifications are always available to me, all unlocked from the online BioNex store—the place I was purchased from, the android-makers. I’m an SFX900, one of their most luxurious and expensive models. But I’ve never thought about utilizing any of the modifications just because I could. Appearances have always been furthest from my mind, as my foremost concern since my activation was ensuring my previous owners were satisfied with me. A difficult and sometimes impossible task.

Sure! Codi changed his hair from brown to blond once, Denise says. I don’t see why you can’t if you’re feeling something. We dye our hair all the time. It’s the same thing.

I sift through my customization processor and with a single internal command, my synthetic hair changes its coding to match the modification I’ve downloaded, shifting the color from light to dark brown.

I look up at Denise curiously. Does it look okay?

Look at you. She rests a hand on her hip. Little miss sexy mama. Gonna give poor Nick a heart attack.

Why would I give him a heart attack? I ask. Is he ill? I can download heart health information to ensure I can⁠—

Sophie, it’s a joke. A figure of speech. I’m teasing you, Denise says. It means you’re hot.

Oh. I make sure to look that up and add that to my memory banks.

Who cares what men think? If you love it, that’s all that matters. Keep it the way you want. Boys are a dime a dozen, trust me. They have two choices: hype you up or hike on out. Denise turns away. I’ll let you change. T minus one hour until Sophie’s new life in London!

London, of all places. I’ve resided in New York and New Carnegie ever since my activation with my previous owners. I’ve been abroad before, but as a servant, never allowed to wander off and take in new sights or experience anything different than the mundane.

Perhaps all of that is about to change. Before, I would never hope for anything beyond fulfilling my own programming, feeding my ever-hungry gratification drive by serving others. But if Denise and Codi are any indication, perhaps I can discover a new way to function, to exist, to be.

Tonight, I meet my new owner.

Tonight, he takes me home.

An automated Flagler cab, complete with a bionic driver, arrives in front of the Cartwright home as I peer out the window, freshly changed and curious. A clean-shaven man with nut-brown hair wearing a sharp gray madras suit exits the vehicle and adjusts the soft blue tie around his neck. He flicks his wrist and glances at an expensive matte black holobeam watch. His gaze trails up to the window, and I abruptly step back, not wishing to be seen.

My biocomponents rush through my systems to cool me down as I struggle to make sense of my reaction. Perhaps the other androids are right. I can feel fear, apprehension, anxiety. My programming was so rigid before, but the longer I spend among people like Denise and Becca, I wonder if I was wrong. Perhaps I am capable of being more than just numbers and coding.

With one final peek, I observe him as he walks toward the front door. A few minutes later, Denise calls me into the living room. Steadying my processors, I slip on the jacket Denise gave me and pull my hair over one shoulder, stepping out into view.

Denise, Codi, and my new master all stand together talking, but their conversation ceases when they catch sight of me.

Well, look at you, Codi exclaims. I like the new style, Sophie.

Thank you, I reply meekly, bowing my head.

My attention is on the newcomer. He’s quite aesthetically pleasing, in a way that’s different from the other men I’ve encountered, organic or synthetic. He has a round jaw and grizzled chin, like he hasn’t shaved in a day or two. There are tints of auburn in his hair when the light hits him at the proper angle. Warm too are his eyes, rich like earth or coffee. His skin in contrast isn’t tawny from exposure or even naturally golden, but pale. And as I let my processor browse through England’s climate, it’s no surprise to me he doesn’t have a tan.

It occurs to me I’m comparing parts of him to things I like. His eyes. Coffee, something I made and admired every morning. Earth, darkened after rain. Little things I’ve noticed here and there in my often colorless routine as a servant that brought me small measures of contentment. My optics zoom in, and I memorize his features.

He flashes a warm yet reserved smile in my direction as he steps forward, extending his hand to me. He has dimples in his cheeks, and I decide I like those, too.

Sophie. I’m Nicholas Kane. He speaks in a well-educated British accent, each word carefully picked and placed. How would you like to accompany me back to London?

The possibility that Denise and Codi already offered me now feels truly cemented.

Yes, master, I say quickly. That is, Mr. Kane. I would like that very much.

He flinches. "Master? Oh, no, no. I’m not your master. Nobody is master of you except yourself. If you must refer to me as anything other than my name, benefactor is more suitable, I suppose. But if I’m to call you Sophie, you are to call me Nick. Or Nicholas if you’re feeling especially fancy. But only those names will do. Can you do that?"

Yes, of course, I answer earnestly, my programming already leaping to please him. My previous mistress always insisted upon possessive titles like that. To keep me in my place, she said. My processors ease, knowing he does not require the same. Anything you desire, Nicholas, I’m happy to do.

A slight change of color in his cheeks is followed by patient, though somewhat awkward, laughter. I wonder what I’ve said that might make him experience such discomfort. He glances at Denise, who bites back a smile with some difficulty.

"I’m told you can be quite useful with numbers and organization, so I have a job for you, if you’d like it. I’m in need of a secretary of sorts. And of course, in return for your work you’ll be generously compensated and have a safe place to stay. It’s important to me that you accept the offer yourself. You don’t have to say yes if