Page 8 of Starrily

“They’re not serious.”

“Callie—”

“How is that fair? The spacecraft only seats four people. Someone who’s worked their entire life for this will have to give up their spot, just so some old fart can play space tourist!”

Watzmann chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing. I forget you’re not familiar with media personalities.”

She didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but anyway—“Are you sure we can’t offer them something else?”

“I’m afraid not. I know it’s not ideal—”

“Putting it mildly,” she murmured.

“—but we need this funding. You know how hard it is to get money from investors.”

He was right. So many people and projects depended on this mission—including her own research. And even if she weren’t involved, what right did she have to forgo the funding or complain at all?

“Besides, having a famous person attached to the project will help,” Watzmann continued. “It will give us more exposure and better chances to receive further funding from other sources.”

They’d reached the door to the meeting room. Callie paused, her palms sweating. “Are you sureIhave to be present?”

“They requested you.”

Would’ve been great if they also gave her a ten-minute notice to prepare some greetings. Responses to hypothetical questions.Anything.Callie swallowed. “What do I say?”

Watzmann faced her and held her by the shoulders. “These are corporate people. Whatever you do, you can’t show any weaknesses. Don’t stammer; be strong and assertive; look likeyou know what you’re talking about—which you do, of course—” He scratched the top of his head.

Talk about science. Yes, she could do that. As for the rest … Her stomach cramped, and she put a hand on it. The sooner it was done, the sooner she could go back to her regular work.Rip it off like a Band-Aid.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. She thought Watzmann said something else, but her focus was now fully on the task ahead. Two people waited inside. She paid little heed to the one by the coffee machine showing her his back and instead strode, with what she hoped was confidence and determination, toward Simon Montague, who stood by the conference table. She hadn’t imagined him wrong—he was older, probably in his mid-fifties, and dressed in a nondescript gray business suit. His head was shaved to a shine, and streaks of gray were beginning to show in his well-maintained, dark beard.

She extended a hand and shook his firmly. “Mr. Montague. So you’re our latest addition to the astronaut crew.”

The man furrowed his eyebrows. “Doctor, I’m afraid you’ve got it all wrong.”

Behind her, Watzmann coughed.

Oh, no.Watzmann’s words echoed in her head.Be strong, assertive—assertive—

“Ah, so you’ve decided to leave space travel to theactualexperts.”

“Callie, no—” Watzmann began.

“I mean, uh …”—don’t stammer, don’t stammer—“It’s perfectly fine. Many people don’t realize how much work it takes—”

“Callie!” Watzmann said, loud enough to make her turn to him. “That’s not him.”

“Huh?” Confused, she looked back.

The bearded man gestured toward his companion. “Doctor Guidry, may I introduce Simon Montague, CEO of Aries Tech.”

The other man deposited his carton coffee cup on the table, took off his sunglasses, and tucked them into the v-neck of his shirt. It was unmistakable—the tall, athletic build; the perfectly tousled burnished red hair; the face straight from the cover of a magazine—and those deep blue eyes, almost like the darkness of space, twinkling at her, mocking her.

Simon Montague flashed her a blindingly white smile. “Hello, Phoenix.”