Page 78 of You Owe Me

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His hair is mussed from sleep and my fingers, and there’s a satisfied gleam in his eyes that makes my stomach flutter all over again.

“Dr. Paulson still giving you grief about your methodology?”

“Something like that,” I murmur, reaching up to smooth down a particularly rebellious curl. “I might need to try a different approach.”

“You’ll figure it out.” He has that quiet confidence in me that sometimes feels undeserved. “You always do.”

If only he knew what I was actually planning to figure out today.

“I should probably get moving,” I say reluctantly. “The lab closes early on Saturdays, and I want to get some work done before it gets too crowded.”

It’s a lie; the lab doesn’t close early on Saturdays, and I’m not going there anyway. But Maverick just nods and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Don’t work too hard, and remember to eat something. You get cranky when you’re hungry.”

“I do not get cranky.”

He gives me a look that clearly saysSure you don’t, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he rolls out of bed and stretches, completely unselfconscious in his nudity. I take a moment to appreciate the view—the way the morning light plays across his shoulders, the flex of muscle as he reaches for his phone on the nightstand.

“I’ve got to head to the office anyway.” He scrolls through his messages. “Pops wants to video call about some quarterly reports.”

I nod, already mentally preparing for what I need to do. First, I need to find Jin Chen. Sebastian gave me his room number—Hartwell 314, just two floors down from Carter’s suite. Then I need to convince him to help me without revealing too much about why I need his particular skill set.

The beauty of being Maverick Lexington’s girlfriend is that doors open for me that wouldn’t open for anyone else. Peopleowe him favors, and by extension, they owe me consideration. It’s not a card I’ve ever played before, but desperate times and all that.

“Text me when you’re done? Maybe we can grab dinner somewhere.”

“Sounds perfect,” I lie, knowing that by tonight, everything will either be solved or have completely blown up in our faces.

He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the shower start up. I use the time to get dressed and mentally rehearse what I’m going to say to Jin. How much truth to tell him. How to leverage Maverick’s reputation without making it sound like a threat.

Because here’s the thing about being with someone like Maverick—everyone knows who you are, even if you’ve never met them. You’re not just Ainsley James, marine biology student. You’re Ainsley James, the girl who tamed the campus devil. The one person who can make Maverick Lexington smile. The girlfriend of the king.

And kings, even reluctant ones, inspire loyalty.

It’s time to cash in on that loyalty.

Carter Mills has no idea what he’s unleashed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Rumor has it, she's collecting on debts that aren't hers.

Ainsley

Finding Jin turns out to be easier than I expected, which probably should be my first red flag that this whole plan is about to go sideways faster than a sea lion on roller skates.

He’s exactly where Sebastian said he’d be—hunched over a laptop in the far corner of the computer lab, surrounded by empty energy drink cans and the kind of focused intensity that screamsI haven’t seen sunlight in 72 hours.His hair looks like he stuck his finger into an electrical socket, and he’s wearing a hoodie that’s probably older than me.

Perfect. A sleep-deprived computer genius with questionable hygiene and a God complex. This should go smoothly.

I approach his workstation like I’m approaching a wild animal that might bolt—or bite. The screens around him are filled with code that looks like hieroglyphics had a baby with a math textbook, and I’m pretty sure at least three of them are displaying things that would make the FBI very interested in Jin’s browsing history.

“Jin?” I say softly, not wanting to startle him into accidentally launching a nuclear missile or something.

He doesn’t look up. Just keeps typing with the kind of manic energy that suggests he’s either caffeinated to the point of toxicity or having a religious experience with JavaScript.

“Computer lab’s closed,” he mutters, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Come back tomorrow. Or never. Never works, too.”

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