Page 28 of Reckless Devotion

“Don’t worry, we keep the mummified alien remains in the east wing.” I press my thumb to a black pad beside the last door and if I’m not mistaken, hear a smothered, soft snort of laughter.

I hold open the door for her and she walks through, her eyes going wide as she takes in the production line spanning a space that could easily fit two airplane hangars. The noise of machinery coats the air, accompanied by a smell I can only describe as fresh metal. Like when you get new electronics and they have that coppery smell. I lead her along the line, pausing to greet plant technicians and to explain integral parts of the machinery to Pepper.

“What’s that?” She stops in front of a large titanium and glass chamber emitting a soft hum as the large extruder zigs quickly up and down on a moving slider.

“It’s a 3D printer that we use to make carbon fiber aerospace components for NASA.”

Pepper's brows rise, and she shoots me a shocked look. It only lasts for a second, but it makes pride glow in my chest. It took me years to become NASA’s approved manufacturer, and despise me she might, but even she thinks that is impressive. She steps closer, narrowing her eyes, and peers through the glass at the shiny, deep grey filament being molded into a half-formed model.

“Dev Tech Inc. is the only company in the world with printing facilities this large. It allows us to print parts in half the time as traditional manufacturers, and it’s electric, so this process doesn’t consume any fuel. This whole place is run with solar and wind power, so it’s completely carbon zero.”

Welp.Someone stop me, because I find myself delusionally chasing the high of her fleeting approval like a puppy dog in its first heat. I cringe internally, shoving my hands roughly in my pants pockets.

“Really?”

“Scout’s honor.” I hold up three fingers, wearing a manufactured smirk. “We even offset any fuel used to ship the parts by planting trees.”

“Huh,”she replies contemplatively, walking slowly along the row of filament as a new layer begins printing. “Why isn’t everyone doing that?” Her small hands curl over the red protective steel railings, leaning closer to try and get a better look.

“There is a lot of upfront cost in setting up farms to harvest electricity.” I shrug, lifting one palm to run it absentmindedly down my jaw. “Yes, it’s cheaper long term, but most companies are either reluctant to front the investment, or they simply don’t have the resources. Then there is sourcing or creating the right machinery to be able to use it—a lot of the companies that produce manufacturing equipment don’t even make machines that run solely on electricity yet, so we had to make a lot of it ourselves. It will take us a good twenty-five years to see the financial savings, but it will be worth it in the end.”

I want to add that I actually give a damn about the environment too, but something tells me she won’t believe it, or might even think I’m saying it to try and look good. I mean, I have a private jet and my cars are definitely not electric, so I won’t be chaining myself to a tree anytime soon, but I do my bit to make sure the business doesn’t add to the footprint. Especially considering it operates on such a colossal scale.

My attention is dragged momentarily away by the background shout of a worker, but when I look back at her, she’s staring at me with something I can’t decipher. And that pisses me off again, because I can always read people.

“All your manufacturing plants are like this?”

“Not yet. Some of the more brick-and-mortar manufacturing locations are still fuel-run, but we’re aboutseventy percent electric across the business. We’ve pledged to our stakeholders to be carbon neutral across the entire umbrella in the next five years.”

“That’s…” She shakes her head, chewing softly on her plush lower lip. “That is very cool.”

Holy hell. A compliment. Even if it does look like it pained her to give it. “It is,” I agree. “Want to get closer?”

“Yeah, I do.” She nods rapidly.

I lead her over to the edge of the printer where a slim steel chain link ropes off the service ramp up to the controls. Unclipping it, I guide her onto the steel and clip it back behind us. Halfway up, her step falters and her hand shoots out to the railings on one side.

“Okay?” I lean sideways to catch a glimpse of her profile as she scowls down, tutting. Following her gaze, I see the tip of her boot is wedged into one of the perforated holes in the metal. “Here, I’ve got it.”

Without waiting for permission, I slip past her, feeling her shoulder brushing my chest. The proximity lends me a waft of soft jasmine that reminds me of the vines that creep over the sprawling pergola at our family home in The Hamptons. It makes me think of sunshine and lazy beach days. My father rarely left the city to stay there with us in the summer, so they’re my happiest childhood memories. Just me, Mom, Mason, and Emily, doing normal family things.

“It’s okay, you don’t—”

She stops talking as I lower myself onto one knee in front of her, curling my fingers around her denim-wrapped calf. My ears prick at a rushed intake of breath from above, and I force myself not to dive headfirst into whatever that was about. Instead of drawing attention to it, I slide my hand up to the back of her knee and use my other to lift her chunky sole out of the hole. With the boot settled back onto the steel, I drop my hands,feeling her heat stain my palm as I prop my forearm on my knee and glance up.

The apples of her cheek are flushed with copper as she stares, lips parted. She blinks suddenly, and rearranges her face, tearing her gaze away. Something primal flares in my chest, because I know what women look like when they’re turned on, andthatwas unmistakable. So, even if she doesn’t want to be, she is attracted to me on a physical level—at least to some degree. Like I’m handling an easily spooked animal, I again don’t point it out. I’m sure there will come a time when I need to prod again, but for now I’m enjoying how genuinely interested she seems in the work we do here.

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to produce a ring,” I tease, brushing off the weight of the moment as I rise. A clearing noise erupts from her throat and her cheeks burn brighter. “You think you’ll be okay for the rest?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she mutters, attempting to push past me.

I forget to move on account of the large deep green shipping container being slowly transported past, causing her to pile into my chest. My hands leap automatically to her upper arms to steady her, but my focus is wholly snatched away by the flashing orange light and audio warning as the straddle carrier tracks slow progress.

“What are you—let go of me!” Pepper snaps, and I blink down, realizing that she had been struggling to get out of my grip.

“Oh, sorry. Come with me.” I drop her arms and slip past her, rapidly striding ahead to meet the carrier, my eyes glued to the twelve-digit series number stamped along the corrugated steel.

“Stop!” I lodge my hand in the air in its path, not quite wanting to put the possibility of being turned into a Chase-shaped pancake out into the universe by stepping in front of thegiant machinery. Luckily the driver spots me quickly, and the soft hum of the electric-powered machine dies with its progress.