When Celino and Ven emerged from the study, they moved to the dining room. They had dinner, a delicious parade of perfectly seasoned dishes, during which the ten-year-old Ramiro Carvanna had to describe in excruciating detail every moment of his fight with twelve-year-old Soldano Chel ini. The Sangori problem was discussed briefly - the always prosperous family had made a number of costly investments that failed. The firm was teetering on the brink of col apse and the establishment of the bionet servers was Savien's desperate attempt to project an image of thriving success and drum up more business.
Celino pounced on the opportunity as if he'd smel ed blood in the water. She couldn't quite fol ow the intricacies of their conversation, but if everything went their way, Carvanna and Escana would own most of Sangori by the quarter's end.
Ven and Carvanna caught up on the latest gossip.
Someone married someone else. Someone's sister left the planet. Someone had engineered a short-life, weapon-grade plant virus and nuked the rival's garden with it.
Names floated by her. She could've used her training to memorize them, but she didn't bother. What was the point?
They were too vivid and too bright, too familiar with each other, and she simply faded in the background.
Later Claire found herself back on the balcony, standing at the rail, watching the last splashes of sunset as the star rol ed behind the gardens. Ven came looking for her. At first, she ignored his approaching mind, then she ignored his footsteps, then he leaned on the rail next to her, and she couldn't ignore him any longer.
"Do you like them?" he asked.
"They are very pretty," she said, surveying the flowers.
"I meant Celino and Imelda."
Why did it matter if she liked them? If she said no, what would it change? "They are wonderful hosts."
He leaned closer, searching her face for something.
"Did you not like being here? You didn't say more than two words at dinner."
She wanted to grab him and shake him. Why? Why would he bring her here to this little paradise and show her what she could never have? Why introduce her to a perfect woman she could never be? It was cruel. "I'm just a little tired," she said with a smal smile.
Ven turned, leaning with his back on the rail. "Was someone rude to you?"
"Not at all. Your friends were perfectly courteous."
"Then what is it?"
"It's nothing, Venturo. I am just a little tired."
He exhaled. "This would be so much easier if you were a psycher."
She pushed from the rail. "Wel , I am not." And even if I was, I would lock you out of my mind.
His mind reached out, hovering next to her.
"No," she said sharply. Now wasn't the time for mind scans. If he discovered her shel , he would put two and two together. He stil didn't know if he wanted to hire or to kil the mysterious psycher. Venturo was proud. If he realized how thoroughly she tricked him, he would feel extremely foolish.
The choice between kil and hire wouldn't be so difficult then. If he fought with her, one of them would not survive.
She didn't want to die and she didn't want to hurt him.
Venturo peered at her. "How did you know I wanted to scan your mind?"
She gave him a cold look. "I guessed. You have difficulty taking no for an answer."
"Does this mean you didn't real y want to come with me?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Claire, I told you, you didn't have to accept my invitation if you didn't want to."
"I wanted to come," she said.
She could tel by the look on his face that he didn't believe her. "I think it's better I take you home," he said.
"After all , I promised to return you to your life at midnight."
He strode back inside the house. She wanted to scream, but venting her frustration in a loud shriek was out of the question, so she clenched her fist and smashed it into the rail.
Chapter Seven
Claire awoke instantly. Someone's mind had brushed against hers. She could stil feel the traces of the foreign presence.
Claire rol ed out of bed. The owner of the mind waited outside. It wasn't Venturo. His mind felt differently. Besides, after their silence-fil ed flight back to the city, a visit from him was highly unlikely.
She pul ed a pair of pants over her underwear and stepped out onto the balcony.
The light-eyed DDS psycher stood on the ground below her windows. His name surfaced from her memory: Pelori.
He tossed back his long hair, jumped, and scrambled up the wal , swinging himself up to crouch on the rail of her balcony. A combat agility implant. Nice.
A thought zinged to her. "I know you are not what you seem."
She'd thought as much. He had touched her mind and sensed the shel .
"Escana doesn't deserve you. He doesn't even know and he is too blind to see it."
Ven would know, but he was too polite to go ruffling through her thoughts. It was a courtesy she treasured.
"Join us. We will give you things. Money. Prestige.
Respect. Safety. Better house."
"You're wasting your time," she said aloud.
"Why do you stay with him? What has he done that we can't duplicate?"
"He brings me tea."
"What?"
"When I hit rock bottom and needed help, he gave it to me expecting nothing in return. He takes interest in me. He cares about my welfare. He is kind to me."
Pelori turned his head, like a bird examining an interesting time. "Castilla will give you enough money to buy all the kindness you want."
"No."
"What if I make you come with me?"
Claire laughed. "If you touch me, I will take your mind apart."
"You don't have the power."
"Try me."
He pondered it for a long moment. He had no way of gauging her power or guessing at how fast she could dismantle the shel .
Pelori dropped off the balcony, landing in an easy crouch. "I will return."
Claire went inside. She was watched. She wasn't sure if he had contacted Castil a or if his visit was an independent effort. Either way, it would end badly.
Her magic dream of happy life was beginning to unravel at the seams. If she let herself get caught up in mourning the unfairness of it, she would fail to hold it together. The mere possibility of losing everything fil ed her with fear.
Claire crossed her arms. She had to keep it together.
She had to function and she would fight for her dream.
*** *** ***
Monday came too fast. She had arrived at her regular time and sank into work, refusing to permit any distractions, including Ven's mind in the nearby office.