Page 13 of Aliens Love Curves

I beam at the praise, from the corner of my eye, I watch Stryker's jaw clench. "The SkyDancer is incredible. The response time, the handling... it's unlike anything I've ever flown."

"Join me for lunch?" Harlan asks. "I'd love to discuss your impressions of the prototype."

Stryker steps forward. "We'd be happy to—"

"Actually," Harlan cuts in smoothly, "I was hoping to speak with Casey to myself, "Business matters to discuss. I'm sure you understand."

I feel Stryker stiffen beside me. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and his tail lashes once, hard. “But I’m her manager.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Casey will relay all the important business side of our discussion back to you.”

The look that crosses Stryker's face makes my heart stutter. Hurt, anger, and something else flash in his silver eyes before he spins on his heel and stalks away, his tail swishing violently.

Guilt tugs at my heart as I watch him go, but Harlan's warm hand on my arm distracts me. "Shall we say thirty minutes? Give you time to change?"

"Yes, thirty minutes will be fine. Shall I meet you there?" My reply is quipped as I try to ignore the knot forming in my stomach.

“No, my glider will collect you.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling and I notice dimples form at the corners of his mouth. My pussy clenches. Damn. Why did he have to be so handsome? I watch him turn on his hells and stride away.

I’m relieved Stryker isn’t in our quarters. I quickly shower and trade the flight suit for a flowing dress that shows off my curves. When I emerge, Harlan is standing outside holding the door open to his glider. His eyes greedily take in my outfit, and I quickly step into the glider to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks.

Harlan's chauffeur-driven glider is the epitome of luxury, all plush seats and gleaming chrome. As we soar through the Ovan sky, the city spreads out below us like a jewelled tapestry, finally docking at The Celestial Crown - a restaurant suspended in a crystalline bubble, offering panoramic views of Ova's spectacular landscape.

All eyes are upon us as I’m guided towards steps taking us up to a floating platform with a domed glass ceiling above the other diners. A gasp escapes my parted lips. The panoramic views take my breath away.

"Impressed?" Harlan asks as he pulls out my chair.

"It's amazing," I admit as I sit down. The restaurant interior is all crystal and starlight, intimate tables floating on individual anti-grav platforms.

Our table offers a perfect view of the sunset, the Ovan sky painted in shades of purple and gold. As we settle in, Harlan's eyes catch the light, swirling with those mesmerizing gold and green patterns.

"You flew beautifully today, very impressive," he nods at a waiter hovering nearby and he steps forward and pours us glasses of something that sparkles like liquid starlight, before disappearing. "Your instincts for the machine are remarkable. You have a natural feel for the glider, an instinct that can't be taught."

"You're too kind," I reply, warming under his intense gaze. “The prototype is incredible. The response time, the manoeuvrability—it’s the glider, not me."

"Not at all. In fact..." He leans forward, those mesmerizing gold-green eyes capturing mine. "The way you handled those turns," Harlan interjects, leaning forward. "It was like watching a dance. Tell me, have you ever considered racing professionally?"

My heart skips a beat. "It's always been a dream, but—"

"But what? With your talent?" He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. "You were born to race, Casey."

The touch sends a shiver through me, not entirely unpleasant. We fall into an easy conversation about flying techniques and favorite races, our shared passion evident in every word. I find myself relaxing, enjoying his charm and attention.

"You know," Harlan says, his voice dropping to an intimate tone, "we have our annual championship race coming up. The prototype you flew today will be ready by then. I think you might be exactly what we need for the Annual Sky Race."

My eyes widen. I nearly choke on my drink. "The Sky Race? But that's the most prestigious event in the sector! Are you suggesting—"

"Indeed. And I believe you could pilot the SkyDancer to victory." His hand brushes mine as he reaches for his glass. "Of course, I'd need to convince the shareholders..." he adds quickly. "But I think they'll be as impressed with you as I am."

We spend the next hour discussing racing strategies and sharing flying stories. Harlan is charming, knowledgeable, and his passion for flight matches my own. Yet I can't help but notice how different his attraction feels compared to Stryker's. Where Stryker's gaze burns, Harlan's caresses. Where Stryker's presence makes my pulse race, Harlan's merely warms.

I’m about to agree, when a server appears at Harlan's side, whispering something in his ear. Harlan's expression flickers, his eyes darting to a corner table where two men sit in shadows. Something in their posture sets off warning bells in my enforcer training.

"My sincerest apologies," Harlan says, standing abruptly. "A business matter requires my attention. But please, consider my offer about the race. I think you could be exactly what Quickening Gliders needs."

As I watch him leave, I can't help but notice how he bends close to the mysterious men, their conversation intense but inaudible. The enforcer in me itches to investigate, but the pilot in me is still soaring from his offer.

The ride back to campus gives me time to think. About the prototype, about Harlan's offer, about Stryker's reaction to my reckless flying. I close my eyes, seeing again that flash of hurt in his silver gaze before he stormed off. But something bigger is happening here, something beyond corporate competition and racing glory. Something more important than my mixed-up emotions.