Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Misha

The moment the door to our apartment swings shut behind us, the air thickens with tension. Oliver whirls on me, his face contorted with a mix of disbelief and anger.

" Smart home girl? Really, Misha? She has a master's in computer science and a PhD in AR and VR, and you call her a fucking smart home girl ?"

I wince. I already regretted my careless words the second they left my mouth, especially when she looked at me with that scowl, her beautiful blue eyes darkening almost to gray. Then I had to suppress a laugh because of the way she said, it's Doctor Smart Home Girl . Grey likes to throw his PhD around too.

"Yeah, that was bad, I know, but—"

"And acting like we don't know her? Like we haven't been watching her for the last forty-eight hours?" he cuts me off, his voice rising.

"What was I supposed to do, huh?" I shoot back. It's not like the situation was planned. We just saw her there, and I thought I needed to say something before we left. Showing her that she's not invisible to us .

Yeah, that backfired.

"Tell her the truth, maybe?" Oliver snaps, his patience clearly fraying.

Grey chooses that moment to join us, stepping out of the office with a dismissive shrug. "Telling her the truth has been off the table for a while now. If you were so concerned, you should have told her the second we realized she doesn't know we're watching."

I mean, he's not wrong. It is too late now. What does he want us to tell her?

Hey, remember how you spilled all your insecurities?

Surprise!

"And why is that on me? Why didn't you tell her?" Oliver retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Because you're the one in love with her, and you need to grow a backbone.

Grey's response sends a chill down my spine. "Because I don't care whether she knows or not," he retorts, his tone devoid of any warmth. I shoot Oliver a quick glance, and his eyes widen in disbelief, mirroring my own reaction. But before he can retort anything, Grey continues, "She's doing her job, and what she doesn't know isn't going to hurt her. It's not like we're going around gossiping about her." As he speaks, his gaze flickers to Oliver, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of something indiscernible in his eyes—perhaps pity or something else entirely—before he refocuses on me. "This setup gives us the most realistic scenario possible. She acts naturally because she thinks she's alone." Then, with a firm nod, he adds, "That's invaluable data."

"She's not just some kind of project." Oliver's face darkens, and he takes a step toward Grey, fists clenched. I quickly step between them, pressing against Oliver's chest to hold him back.

"Ollie." I eye him, brows furrowed .

What is going on with them getting all hot - headed over her?

"You're a fucking jerk," Oliver hisses to Grey.

"Tell me something I don't know," Grey retorts with a nonchalant shrug.

The room is thick with unsaid things, and I can feel the tension radiating from Oliver. "You guys are making me sick. I need a shower," he mutters, disgust clear in his voice as he turns to leave.

Ouch.

"Hey, you had the chance to open your mouth and speak up down there. But you didn't," I call out after him, but Oliver doesn't respond, instead disappearing down the hallway.

"I guess you had a run-in with Amelia?" Grey asks, turning to me with a raised eyebrow.

I let out a long breath, rubbing my temples as I try to process the quick escalation. "She was at the gym. I asked for a meeting tomorrow."

Grey nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "And? Did she agree?"

"Yep, our office before lunch."

"Okay, that gives us time for a game plan. Come on, go get a shower. You stink." Grey crinkles his nose, making me chuckle.

Cocky asshole.

"When you're done, I'll make us some pasta for dinner, and we can talk this shit out, get on the same page."

Looking down the hallway, I sigh. "I doubt Oliver will ever be on the same page with us when it comes to her."

"He will," Grey mutters, walking back to the office.

I head to my room, grabbing a shower in the en suite. As I return to the kitchen, refreshed but still rattled, the scent of garlic and basil fills the air. Grey is already at the stove, stirring what looks like a pot of marinara sauce. Oliver is sitting at the kitchen island, arms crossed, staring into his coffee like it might reveal the secrets of the universe. I lean against the counter, watching Grey work.

"That smells good," I comment, trying to cut through the tension still lingering in the air.

Grey just grunts, a half-smirk flicking across his face. "It's good because you're not the one making it."

I scowl at him, making him grin.

Soon after, the food is ready, and we sit down to eat. The first bites are taken in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

Finally, Grey breaks the stillness. "Okay, let's talk strategy for tomorrow's meeting."

Oliver stirs his pasta around his plate, still visibly upset. "I don't feel good about this. We were literally spying on her."

I fork a mouthful of spaghetti, chewing thoughtfully before responding. "Well, we've got what we needed. We have enough data, and frankly, it was so insightful it might even push up the release date. I know we wanted to have at least a week of beta testing, but we can stop now, I guess."

Grey nods in agreement. "He's right. We've seen how the AI interacts in a real-world scenario with all of her gadgets. Continuing at this point isn't really necessary. We have a lot to work on. And I bet she'll give us even more insights when we discuss her experience tomorrow."

Oliver's frown deepens. "And what about Amelia? Do we just pretend none of this ever happened?"

I sigh. "Look, bro, you've been into her for ages. If you're that torn up about it, use this as an incentive. Get to know her for real. If you get close enough, maybe she'll share these things with you herself, and you can feel better knowing that she wants you to know what you know now. "

Grey chuckles, scraping his plate. "Yeah, and who knows? Maybe she'll find your stalkerish level of attention charming."

Oliver doesn't smile, but the tension in his shoulders eases. "I just… I want to be upfront with her."

"You're never upfront, except with us." Grey chuckles the same moment I start.

"Then be upfront." I lean back in my chair and look at him squarely. "But be upfront with what you want from her. The way you just went off on us? Take that and transform it into courage to ask her out." Oliver bites his cheek, and I know this is way easier said than done for him. Sighing and so over this conversation, I say, "Right now, let's focus on wrapping up this beta cleanly."

"We'll handle tomorrow professionally," Grey concludes, stacking the empty plates. "After that, it's on you, Oliver."

As we clean up, I can't help but feel hopeful. Maybe all this tension will lead to something good—for Oliver.

For Amelia.

Wiping down the counter, I catch Oliver's reflective gaze in the window. He's deep in thought, probably rehearsing what he might say to Amelia. I shake my head slightly, amused and a bit envious of his dilemma.

If he hadn't seen her first…

"I'm going to camp out in the office tonight," Grey announces. "Just to make sure Amelia doesn't accidentally burn down the building during her next cooking session. She's worse than a Sim if you leave her alone with a stove," he jokes, but there's a serious undertone to his words.

We all head back to the office, and when we enter, I'm struck by the sight of Amelia on the monitors. She's nestled into the corner of the couch, engrossed in a book, clad in a pink pajama set adorned with little strawberries, her hair piled into a messy bun atop her head. The faint light from the lamp next to the sofa bathes her in a warm glow, highlighting the constellation of freckles scattered across her cheeks—something I hadn't really noticed until I stood right in front of her and she was crinkling her nose at me adorably.

And when I took her hand earlier?

That touch… her skin was so incredibly soft.

Somehow, her slight height advantage over me, which I also only noticed up close today, is so damn hot.

Tall, British goddess.

Grey moves toward the mic, breaking my reverie. "Amelia, do you want to start cooking dinner?"

She looks up, a slight furrow between her brows, and places her book on the couch. "Actually, I'm not hungry tonight," she responds, her voice carrying a hint of fatigue, making me worry.

Is she all right?

Did I hurt her with my words?

Oliver leans in, the worry in his tone clear as well. "She's probably nervous about the meeting tomorrow."

Grey nods subtly and presses the talk button again. "Are you feeling okay?"

We glance at the monitor displaying her vital signs—her temperature is normal, but her heart rate is elevated. Clearly, she's more anxious than she lets on.

Probably all my fault.

"Sure, I'm just… tired. I'm sorry our last evening's cut short. It was fun having you here, and giving you back to your daddies will be sad. But I was glad to get to know you," she mumbles, her voice tinged with a melancholy that tugs at my heartstrings.

Jamie responds in his ever-calm tone, "The pleasure was all mine, Amelia. "

She smiles softly, a bittersweet curl to her lips. "I think I'll head to bed if you don't mind. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Of course," Jamie replies.

With a gentle nod, she stands, stretching before heading toward her bedroom. "Lights," she calls out quietly, and the apartment dims into darkness, her figure receding into the shadows.

As the screen goes black, a heavy silence settles over us. Grey sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Well, that's it for tonight, I guess."

Oliver still looks troubled, and his gaze lingers on the darkened screen as he murmurs, "Sleep well, Amelia."

We linger in the office a while longer, each working on some improvements for Jamie. Seemingly, none of us is ready to leave just yet. It's clear Amelia's made more of an impression on us than we expected.

Half an hour passes, and Grey stretches his arms above his head. "Let's call it a night." Standing from his chair, he claps me on the shoulder just as we hear a faint buzzing sound. It's muffled but distinct.

Is she…

"What's that?" Oliver asks.

We all fall quiet, listening for a moment. That's when I hear it—Amelia is moaning softly, her breath hitching as the buzzing intensifies.

Jesus.

"Holy shit, we need to get out, give her some privacy." Oliver stands so quickly that his chair rolls back and smacks against the wall.

There is another moan and then a whimper, louder this time. A shiver of goose bumps rises on my neck.

Fuck, she sounds delicious.

Oliver grips my shirt on my shoulder, ready to drag me out of here, when Grey bellows, "Stop!" We freeze and turn to him. The same curiosity and intrigue shine in his eyes, but his look is stern. "Oliver, you have to make sure Jamie isn't going to respond to her. I don't know what he would do or say, but either way, this could be bad."

Oliver's eyes go wide, and he moves to lean over his keyboard. "I'm just going to shut everything down."

Grey reaches out to grip his wrist, stopping him. "You can't. I haven't done a backup. I was about to when you came back from the gym, but I forgot."

"Fuck," Oliver curses, but he grabs his chair so he can roll it back and sit in front of his monitor again, frantically typing away.

The room falls silent, save for his typing and the buzzing sound that grows even louder. I can make out the sound of her fingers moving in her own wetness, and it makes my cock twitch in my pants. She moans again, louder this time, and the rhythmic sound of the toy moving in and out of her fills the new silence now that Oliver has stopped typing and is listening intently, too, all thoughts about leaving forgotten.

Images of her lying in bed, her long legs spread wide, her fingers working her clit as she fucks herself with the toy fill my mind. Hearing the way her breath catches, the way she whimpers and moans, it takes all my willpower not to grip myself over my pants to release some pressure. I imagine her face contorted in pleasure, her blue eyes squeezed shut as she rides out her lust.

Fuck.

My heart races, and I watch as Grey adjusts himself, shifting his weight from foot to foot. There is pure desire in his eyes, and I know he's thinking the same thing I am.

God, I want to be down there with her right now. To touch her, taste her, make her scream my name.

My cock grows even harder, my body begging for release. I want to be a part of her pleasure, to feel her wetness on my fingers, to hear her moans and whimpers in my ear. She's panting now, and I just know she's close.

And I'm right.

The sound of her orgasm, the way she cries out and her breath catches in her throat is all I can focus on. I bet her body is trembling now, her back arching as she reaches her peak.

What I wouldn't give to come with her, to feel my own release as she reaches hers.

In or on her. I don't fucking care.

But just as quickly as it started, it's over. The buzzing sound slows down, and I know she's done.

God, listening to her get off like that was hot as hell.

The buzzing sound stops and the room is filled with a heavy silence again. Grey takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, that was…" He trails off, his voice strained.

Oliver nods, his eyes still wide with disbelief. He stands, his chair rolling back with a muted thud. "Let's go to bed," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, his ears burning red and sporting an obvious boner. All of us do.

I force myself to stand, my legs shaking from the rush of adrenaline. It's like I was right there with her, experiencing her pleasure as if it were my own.

As we leave the office, I can't help but feel a sense of longing. I want to be the one to make her feel that way, to give her that kind of pleasure.

But I can't.

I won't.

We walk down the hallway in silence, and all of a sudden, dread fills me. What we've done and heard is something that could potentially ruin everything.

If she ever finds out…

She could ruin us.

But at the same time, I don't feel bad about it at all. This is a completely different side of Amelia, a side that is raw and vulnerable on a whole different level. And so damn hot. What other sides are there to her?

Who are you really, Amelia?

As we reach our rooms, Grey turns to us with a serious look on his face. "We can never tell her about us watching her for the beta," he warns, his voice low. "We can't let her know what we've just heard."

Oliver nods, his jaw clenched. "I know."

I nod in agreement.

She can't ever find out.

This project, meant to be a breakthrough, is testing more than just our technical skills—it's testing our morals, our friendships.

And I'm not sure what will be left standing at the end.