I notice the crude contraption on the cart then. It looks like some homemade virtual reality device with sensors placed along the inside. “You did a brain scan,” I say.

“Very good. Welcome back, Blakely. I was starting to worry that the ketamine fried too many brain cells.” He types on the keyboard, pausing to follow my line of sight to the instrument. “Let me explain. It would be cumbersome to lug an fMRI machine here. They’re huge, expensive, nonpractical, and really, technology has come a ways since their creation.” He places a hand on the device proudly. “I borrowed this design from a Korean lab that specializes in home brain scanning. For fun.” He raises his eyebrows for emphasis. “It’s all the rage there, scanning brains, discovering what makes us tick.”

As if triggered, he peeks at his pocket watch. “I won’t bore you with too many details, but as you enjoy coding, perhaps you’d like some of the particulars.”

I blink hard, making sure all my senses work. “Seeing as you hooked me up to some brain melting machine, I want all of the particulars.”

He smirks. “I assure you, it’s completely safe. fNIRS, or functional near-infrared spectroscopy, is the way of the future where brain imaging is concerned. The sensors go right over your forehead—” he demonstrates by sweeping the pads of his fingers across my brow “—and emit light into the brain cortex. Completely noninvasive. The sensors then return light, thereby measuring the remaining power. This reading tells us the changes in oxygen levels. When neurons fire, they use oxygen through blood flow. This allows us to map areas of the brain like the amygdala, where emotions are stored.”

“As such, it was imperative that you be right-handed,” he continues, “as the data has confirmed that the left hemisphere of the brain is more susceptible to stimulation.”

“You’re absolutely fascinated by yourself,” I say.

He cocks his head, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fascinated by you, and what we’ll achieve together.”

“Right. I know how brain scans work,” I say, utter disdain in my voice. “What I want to know is what you plan to do with that information. Build a sex bot? Sell my gray matter on the black market?”

Disappointment registers in the droop of his eyes. There’s still a shadow underneath from the healing bruise, and I realize how damn clever Dr. Alex Chambers really is. How he conned me into believing he was awkward and socially inept—but harmless. A harmless, nerdy scientist who only wanted to spice up his dull life with some thrills.

I was such a conceited tool. The whole time we were together, every second where I was judging him, he was studying me, analyzing my strengths and weaknesses to use them against me.

And I let him.