Hardwired (The Hardwired Series 1)(3)

“Right this way, sir,” the host said, waving my rescuer toward him.

He walked away with casual grace, leaving me tingling from head to toe in his absence. Marie joined me as I watched his retreat, a sight to behold.

I meant to be embarrassed, but in truth I was shamelessly satisfied with my inability to balance on four-inch heels. Mystery man would become fodder for many fantasies to come.





* * *

I ascended the broad granite steps of the library building and traveled through the halls to Professor Quinlan’s office. He was staring intently at his computer screen when I knocked at the door.

He swiveled in his chair. “Erica! My favorite internet startup genius girl.”

His telltale Irish lilt had become less pronounced after living in America for so long. I still found it adorable and clung to every word.

“Tell me, how does freedom feel?”

I giggled a bit, warmed at his genuine enthusiasm to see me. Quinlan was an attractive man in his early fifties, with salt and pepper gray hair and kind pale blue eyes.

“Still getting used to it, to be honest. How about you? When does your sabbatical start?”

“I fly into Dublin in a few weeks. You must visit me if you find time this year.”

“I would love to, of course,” I said. What would this year look like for me? Hopefully I’d be nursing my business through early growing pains, but in truth, I had no idea what to expect. “For some reason I feel like it would be strange seeing you outside of campus, Professor.”

“I’m not your professor anymore, Erica. Call me Brendan, please. I’m now your friend and your mentor, and I certainly hope we’ll see plenty more of each other beyond these walls.”

The professor’s words hit me hard, and my throat tingled a bit. Sentimental moments were plaguing me this week, damn it all. Quinlan had been incredibly supportive these past few years, guiding me through my major and making connections for me to push the business forward. The tireless cheerleader every time I needed a boost.

“I can’t thank you enough. I want you to know that.”

“Helping people like you, Erica, is what gets me up in the morning. And it keeps me out of the pub.” He gave me a crooked smile, revealing a lone dimple.

“And Max?”

“Well, unfortunately Max’s ambition for drink and women far exceeded his ambition for success in business, but it seems like he turned it around after all. I’m not sure if I was any help there, but perhaps. They can’t all be like you, dear.”

“I’m so worried things with the business won’t work out in the long run,” I admitted, hoping he had some clairvoyance that I lacked.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that you will be successful, one way or the other. If not with this, there will be something else. None of us know where life will take us, but you’re making sacrifices and working hard for your dreams. As long as you stay true to those dreams, keep them at the forefront of your mind, you’re moving in the right direction. At least that’s what I tell myself.”

“Sounds right to me.” My nerves were strung tight in anticipation of tomorrow’s meeting, which would be a make it or break it moment for the business, and for me. I needed all the encouragement I could get.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it all out anyway,” he promised.

I didn’t know whether to be inspired or discouraged, knowing he sometimes felt as aimless as I felt right now.

He shifted his focus back to me. “In the meantime, let’s see what you’ve got for our friend Max tomorrow.” He motioned toward the folder on my lap and cleared a path on his desk.

    “Definitely.” I laid out the business plan and my notes, and we set to work.





CHAPTER TWO





The receptionist at Angelcom Venture Group gave me a questioning glance before leading me into the conference room at the end of the hall. I checked myself over, making sure nothing was grossly out of place. So far so good. I shrugged.


“Make yourself comfortable, Miss Hathaway. The rest of the group should be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, grateful the room was momentarily empty. I took a deep breath, trailing my fingers along the edge of the conference table until I reached a wall of windows overlooking Boston Harbor. Awe mingled with my growing anxiety. In a moment I would be face-to-face with a handful of the city’s most wealthy and influential investors, and I felt so far out of my comfort zone, it just wasn’t funny. I took a deep breath and shook out my hands anxiously, wishing my body would relax a little.

“Erica?”

I spun around. A young man about my age, with blond hair parted neatly to the side, dark blue eyes, and wearing an impressive three-piece suit, approached me. We shook hands.

“You must be Maxwell.”

“Please, call me Max.”

“Professor Quinlan has told me a lot about you, Max.”

“Don’t believe a word of it.” He laughed, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth contrasting with a tan that made me wonder how much time he actually spent in New England.

“All good things, I promise,” I lied.

“That’s good of him. I owe him one. This must be your first pitch?”