Page 23 of Sexting Mr. CEO (Texting The CEO #2)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sera

In my hideaway office, I immerse myself in my computer, the code, the algorithm, the clarity of problem and solution. The sabotage stems from human-AI speech patterns. Someone has regressed the AI's ability to understand people to a much earlier model. Its use of advanced predictive algorithms to respond naturally without consciously reading social cues is a key factor in this new model Luke is developing.

I bite the end of my pencil, ignoring my racing heart. Exaggeration? Yeah, okay, but barely. The aftershocks of my second encounter with Damien have left me on-edge, but I was right when I told Luke that I couldn't return to his apartment.

If I were there, Damien would consume my thoughts. When I told Luke what happened, he looked ready to tear Damien apart with his bare hands.

Luke: Codebreaker sixty-nine. Are you okay, angel?

My phone illuminates beside my keyboard with his text. The time reads three PM. I haven't left my desk in hours. I've received other messages and calls too – from Ellie – but I've ignored those.

Sera: I think the key lies in rebuilding the human-AI interactive algorithm from scratch. I've been working on a prototype that uses the empathetic approach, meaning you could combine it with NeuroDrive's predictive modeling to not only anticipate what driving style the user would prefer... but what AI personality too. Oh, and remember when I said I rewrote a portion of it? Well, I had to scrap that. This is better.

Luke: That's incredible. And scrapping is part of the process. But I was asking about you.

Sera: I don't want to think about me. I'd much rather focus on work.

When he doesn't push, switching directly to work questions, I smile. He understands me. He knows exactly what I need. Other men might force the issue, but not my man.

Luke: Is the prototype showing any functionality?

Sera: I've run an early test, and yes, it is. But to make this work, you'd need to write the entire human-AI interaction algorithm in-house to avoid any issues like before. No TechGuard and no other contractors.

Luke: I've already told the shareholders they can try their luck with a coup if they think we're cutting those corners again.

I chew on my lip, contemplating whether to say what needs to be said next.

Sera: It means I'll have to pass this work onto somebody else. I'm not a NeuroDrive employee.

Luke: Sparkplug, even if I didn't need you near me, you're the most qualified person to work on this issue. This is your chance to apply your empathetic model to a multibillion-dollar company.

Excitement bubbles inside me as I read those words, the scope of my future suddenly expanding.

Sera: I don't want any special treatment.

Luke: I won't use your model if it doesn't work, beautiful. But even through text, I can feel your passion, your dedication. It's time you became an employee of NeuroDrive. It's time you lived here permanently.

Sera: Are you asking me to move in with you?

Luke: Does that seem fast, Sparkplug? Could anything possibly seem fast for us?

I stare at my computer screen. Truthfully, I can envision myself working here, spending weeks and months deeply immersed in this problem. I can imagine spending time with Luke after passionate encounters in the bedroom, dates, quiet moments when it's just us, and we don't even need to speak to make them special.

Luke: What's wrong?

Of course, he senses something's wrong without having to ask… even through text. And he's quick to follow up.

Luke: Is it Eleanor?

Sera: I wish I could flip a switch and stop caring about them after what they did. They betrayed me, and it hurts. They basically sent Damien after me. But when I think about losing her, it aches far more than it should.

Luke: I can't tell you what to do. But I know one thing. I need you, Sera. And I'll never hurt you.

Sera: Maybe I should try to talk with them again.

Luke: That's your decision to make. Have they tried to reach out?

Sera: Yes. Unlike my actual parents, Ellie has texted and called me almost twenty times. Graham has sent me loads of emails saying he wants to talk, that he's sorry. I guess they had a conversation recently, because they all arrived while I was working… giving me a convenient excuse to ignore them.

Luke: But you don't want to ignore them anymore.

He knew me better than I knew myself. I wanted to talk to them, but I felt foolish for wanting that.

Sera: I don't know. Am I being a na?ve idiot, Luke? Do I want parental figures so badly, I'm willing to accept more than I should? But you have to understand, Graham and Ellie were GOOD people before all this. They helped me so much. Ellie made my teenage years bearable. Without her, I don't think I would've made it through.

Luke: I don’t want to see you taken advantage of. If you want to talk to them, I’m going to be there to hold your hand.

Sera: Are you sure?

Luke: It’s about time I spoke with Graham, anyway.

Sera: I could arrange a video call for tonight. If they care as much as they’re saying they do, then they shouldn’t mind waiting up for us.

Luke: Do it. And know, Sparkplug, I’m with you every step of the way. I just hate the fact Damien got to you again, and I didn’t do a damn thing.

Even though he came running as soon as he heard my scream, he was still beating himself all because that of that crazy psycho.

Sera: How were you supposed to know he’d creep into the restroom?

Luke: I’ve been thinking about that. How did he get into the ladies room without us spotting him?

Luke: Yes, we were engrossed in our conversation, but I’m sure I would’ve seen him walking across the restaurant. Not to mention fire doors don’t open from the outside. Which means he either snuck in without us spotting him… or he was waiting for us.

Sera: But how would he know we were going to be there?

I had wondered the same thing, too. I hadn’t told anyone about our plans for one because I didn’t know anyone here and the people, I knew I wasn’t talking to at the moment.

Luke: That’s the million-dollar question. I’ve got a theory. In the meantime, lose yourself in your work. You’re safe here. You can disappear into the empathetic algorithm project. Save my company, Sparkplug.

Despite everything, warmth flutters through me. He knows exactly the right thing to say.

Sera: Okay, Luke. Should I arrange a call with Graham and Ellie?

Luke: That’s your choice, angel. I’ll support you no matter what.

I open my phone, looking at the text thread from Ellie. She’s asked to talk several times. As I look at the messages, my phone lights up again. A call from Ellie.

I quickly answer it, not giving myself time to come to my senses.

“Yeah?” I say.

“Sera,” she whispers, voice trembling.

“Don’t break down,” I snap. “Don’t cry. It’s not fair. You know I cared about you.”

“C-cared, past tense?” She stutters.

“Just…” I grind my teeth. “Don’t break down, okay?”

She sniffles but keeps it together. “Okay, I won’t. Are you safe?”

“I had to tear a chunk of Damien’s hair out of his head earlier, but other than that, I’m fine and dandy.”

“What?” She gasps.

“Yep,” I reply dryly, even though it hurts to hear her voice.

“What happened?”

“You and Graham sent a lunatic after me, knowing full well he was dangerous and would go to terrible lengths to get what he wants. That’s what happened.”

“I was so scared,” she whispers. “My sweet girl, I was terrified. If I could turn back time, I’d do it all different.”

“We don’t have that luxury.”

“But you’re safe?”

“I’m with Luke. I’m working with him, trying to undo the mess Graham made of his code, trying to fix the mess he created. You know, if Luke wanted, he could send Graham to prison for a very long time.”

Ellie sighs. “Luke will have to decide himself.”

“Aren’t you going to defend your husband?”

“There’s no defending what we’ve done… what this has become. When Graham came to me with the idea?—”

“Save it,” I cut in. “Luke and I want to talk with you both later. On video call.”

A pause, then, “Yes, okay, we can do that, Sera.”

I should know better than this, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “How is your treatment going?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

On a warped level, she’s right. I shouldn’t care about this anymore. But I can’t shake the image of her kind face and the memory of her soft voice and the pure warmth of feeling, for the first time in my life, that I’d found somebody who understood me. Now she’s sick. She might not make it.

“It does,” I say, a hot tear sliding down my cheek.

I rub it angrily away. I’ve been crying too much recently. It annoys me. I want to be strong, but so much has happened, and there are so many threats still lurking.

“It makes me tired,” she murmurs. “But I’m feeling positive.”

“Good,” I say. “Tell Graham about the call. It’ll probably be late.”

“We’ll wait until whatever time is best for you. I love?—”

I hang up before she can finish the sentence, terrified to keep going because I still love her too despite the betrayal.