“It went well,” someone said.

Olive turned to find Tom standing behind her, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the table. He looked as though he’d been staring at her for a while. “Thank you. Yours, too.” His talk had been a more condensed repeat of the one he’d given at Stanford, and Olive had to admit that she’d spaced out a bit.

“Where’s Adam?” he asked.

“Still giving his keynote, I think.”

“Right.” Tom rolled his eyes. Probably with fondness, though Olive didn’t quite catch it in his expression. “He does that, doesn’t he?”

“Does what?”

“Outdoes you.” He pushed away from the table, ambling closer. “Well, outdoes everyone. It’s not personal.” She frowned, confused, wanting to ask Tom what he meant by that, but he continued, “I think you and I will get along great next year.”

The reminder that Tom believed in her work enough to take her in his lab quashed her discomfort. “We will.” She smiled. “Thank you so much for giving me and my project a chance. I can’t wait to start working with you.”

“You’re welcome.” He was smiling, too. “I think there are a lot of things we can gain from each other. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It seemed to Olive like she had much more to gain from it than he did, but she nodded anyway. “I hope so. I think imaging and blood biomarkers complement each other perfectly, and only by combining them can we—”

“And I have what you need, don’t I? The research funds. The lab space. The time and ability to mentor you properly.”

“Yes. You do. I . . .”

All of a sudden, she could pick out the gray rim of his cornea. Had he gotten closer? He was tall, but not that much taller than her. He didn’t usually feel this imposing.

“I’m grateful. So grateful. I’m sure that—”

She felt his unfamiliar smell in her nostrils, and his breath, hot and unpleasant against the corner of her mouth, and—fingers, a vise-tight grip around her upper arm, and why was he—what was he—

“What—” Heart in her throat, Olive freed her arm and took several steps back. “What are you doing?” Her hand came up to her biceps and—it hurt, where he’d clasped her.

God—had he really done that? Tried to kiss her? No, she must have imagined it. She must be going crazy, because Tom would never—

“A preview, I think.”

She just stared at him, too stunned and numb to react, until he moved closer and bent once more toward her. Then it was happening all over again.

She pushed him away. As forcefully as she could, she pushed him away with both her hands on his chest, until he stumbled back with a cruel, condescending laugh. Abruptly, her lungs seized and she couldn’t breathe.

“A preview of—what? Are you out of your mind?”

“Come on.”

Why was he smiling? Why was that oily, hateful expression on his face? Why was he looking at her like—

“A pretty girl like you should know the score by now.” He looked at her from head to toe, and the lewd gleam in his eyes made her feel disgusting. “Don’t lie to me and say you didn’t pick out a dress that short for my benefit. Nice legs, by the way. I can see why Adam’s wasting his time with you.”

“The— What are you—”

“Olive.” He sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. He should have looked nonthreatening, lounging like that. But he felt like anything but. “You don’t think I accepted you into my lab because you are good, do you?”

Slack-jawed, she took one more step back. One of her heels almost caught in the carpet, and she had to hold on to the table to avoid falling.

“A girl like you. Who figured out so early in her academic career that fucking well-known, successful scholars is how to get ahead.” He was still smiling. The same smile Olive had once thought kind. Reassuring. “You fucked Adam, didn’t you? We both know you’re going to fuck me for the same reason.”

She was going to vomit. She was going to vomit in this room, after all, and it had nothing to do with her talk. “You are disgusting.”

“Am I?” He shrugged, unperturbed. “That makes two of us. You used Adam to get to me and to my lab. To this conference, too.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t even know Adam when I submitted—”

“Oh, please. You’re telling me you thought your pitiful abstract was selected for a talk because of its quality and scientific importance?” He made a disbelieving face. “Someone here has a very high opinion of herself, considering that her research is useless and derivative and that she can barely put together two words without stuttering like an idiot.”

She froze. Her stomach sank and twisted, her feet cemented to the ground. “It’s not true,” she whispered.

“No? You think it’s not true that scientists in the field want to impress the great Adam Carlsen enough to kiss the ass of whoever he’s fucking at the moment? I certainly did when I told his very mediocre girlfriend that she could come work for me. But maybe you’re right,” he said, all mocking affability. “Maybe you know STEM academia better than I do.”

“I’m going to tell Adam about this. I’m going to—”

“By all means.” Tom widened his arms. “Go ahead. Be my guest. Do you need to borrow my phone?”

“No.” Her nostrils flared. A wave of icy anger swept over her. “No.” She turned around and marched to the entrance, fighting the nausea and bile climbing up her throat. She was going to find Adam. She was going to find the conference organizers and report Tom. She was never going to see his face again.

“Quick question. Who do you think Adam will believe, Olive?”

She halted abruptly, just a few feet from the door.

“Some bitch he’s been fucking for about two weeks, or someone who’s been a close friend for years? Someone who helped him get the most important grant of his career? Someone who’s had his back since he was younger than you are? Someone who’s actually a good scientist?”

She spun around, shaking with rage. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can.” Tom shrugged again. “Because as advantageous as my collaboration with Adam has been, sometimes it’s a bit annoying how he needs to be best at everything, and I like the idea of taking something away from him for once. Because you are very pretty, and I look forward to spending more time with you next year. Who would have guessed that Adam had such good taste?”

“You are crazy. If you think that I’ll work in your lab, you are—”

“Oh, Olive. But you will. Because you see—while your work is not particularly brilliant, it does complement nicely the ongoing projects in my lab.”

She let out a single, bitter laugh. “Are you really so deluded that you think I would ever collaborate with you after this?”

“Mmm. It’s more that you don’t have a choice. Because if you want to finish your project, my lab is your only opportunity. And if you don’t . . . well. You sent me information on all your protocols, which means that I can easily replicate them. But don’t worry. Maybe I’ll mention you in the acknowledgment section.”

She felt the ground flip under her feet. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered. “It’s research misconduct.”

“Listen, Olive. My friendly advice is: suck it up. Keep Adam happy and interested as long as possible, and then come to my lab to finally do some decent work. If you keep me happy, I’ll make sure you can save the world from pancreatic cancer. Your nice little sob story about your mom or your aunt or your stupid kindergarten teacher dying from it is only going to get you so far. You’re mediocre.”

Olive turned around and ran from the room.

—

WHEN SHE HEARD the beep of the key card, she immediately wiped her face with the sleeves of her dress. It didn’t quite do the trick: she’d been crying for a solid twenty minutes, and even an entire paper towel roll wouldn’t have been enough to hide what she’d been up to. Really, though, it wasn’t Olive’s fault. She’d been sure Adam had to attend the opening ceremony, or at least the department social after his talk. Wasn’t he on the social-and-networking committee? He should have been elsewhere. Socializing. Networking. Committeeing.