If Caravel held the patent, then what the heck was Dr. Branson doing in the Caribbean?
“Could you—are you sure Caravel holds the patent?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Dr. Barelvi and I did the legwork with legal.”
“Not Dr. Branson?”
“No.” Her hands came to her hips and she gave me a skeptical once-over. “Dr. Branson was only our research manager. It wasn’t his research.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Fiduciary: “An individual in whom another has placed the utmost trust and confidence to manage and protect property or money. The relationship wherein one person has an obligation to act for another’s benefit.”
—Wex Legal Dictionary
Example of a fiduciary: The CEO of a company is a fiduciary for their company.
**Kat**
Dan is bringing you dinner.”
“Good,” Stan grumbled, “I’m starving.”
I gave him a small smile from where I leaned against the back wall of the elevator. My feet hurt.
We were finally on our way to my office. Stan had texted Dan to let him know we’d be running late. The conversation with Dr. Carlyle had taken more than thirty minutes. I’d learned quite a lot.
“You could’ve said something if you were so hungry. I could’ve cut short my discussion with Dr. Carlyle.”
He shrugged as the doors opened to the executive level. “No biggie.”
We exited the elevator together. “Starving is no biggie?”
He shrugged again, which wasn’t a surprise since Stan shrugged a lot, and gave me a rueful grin. “I’m always starving.”
“Should I carry food with me?” I teased, scanning my card and reaching for the door handle to my office, which also happened to be my father’s old office and the biggest office in the building.
Stan seemed to consider this as he held the door open for me to precede him. “I carry nuts in my pocket.”
I was about to suggest I carry a pizza in my purse when Dan’s voice interrupted, “Stan, please stop telling my wife where you keep your nuts.”
Stan, standing in the doorway, laugh-snorted. “Good one.”
Dan, standing next to the conference table, grabbed one of the three plastic bags on the surface and walked to me, a welcoming smile on his features. He brushed a soft kiss against my lips, and my body sighed.
That’s right. I experienced a full-body sigh at the sight of him. Everything relaxing, stilling, and yet, at the same time, tensing with anticipatory restlessness. And at the end of the sigh was a single whispered thought.
I love him.
Of course I loved him. He made it so easy.
Gazing and smiling into my eyes, Dan held the bag extended toward his friend. “Get out of here.”
“Sure thing.” Stan snatched the takeout and disappeared through the door, leaving Dan and I together. Alone. Yay!
“How are you feeling?” I asked, enjoying his closeness even though we weren’t touching.
“Good. Better.”
My smile grew at his answer and relief for him had my body sighing again.
Dan had been in a perpetual bad mood for most of the week, quieter than usual, less prone to smiles and jokes, easily confused, and—sadly—less prone to touching or kissing me. I completely understood. He needed time and space to heal, and I wanted to do everything I could to support him. But seeing how frustrated and unhappy he’d been concerned me.
Yesterday had been better than the previous days. When I arrived at the penthouse and upon his suggestion, we’d curled up on the couch and watched a movie. He’d fallen asleep a half hour into it, so I covered him with a blanket and let him sleep. He’d still been on the couch this morning when I departed for work at 7:30 AM.
“You weren’t up yet when I left.”
“I slept in, didn’t wake up until noon.” He laughed at himself, his gaze moving over my face in that way, giving me the impression that he really, really liked looking at me.
“Wow. That’s—”
“Something like fourteen hours.” Dan’s hand slid down my arm until our fingers met. “Are you hungry?”
“Actually, no. Not yet.” I wanted to see if I could find the patent information for Dr. Carlyle’s project. For that matter, I wanted to fill Dan in on what I’d discovered. “But you should eat if you’re hungry.”
“Nah. Not really. Ma and I had a late lunch. Do you want me to horrify you with her latest plans for dinner on Sunday?”
I chuckled, allowing him to lead me toward the couch in front of the window.
Since my knitting group and their significant others were flying in for a visit this weekend, Dan’s mom had decided to throw a “small family get-together” on Sunday as a way to celebrate our recent marriage. According to Dan, this meant at least fifty to a hundred people, depending on who was working, who was in town, and who was in jail.