The Rule of Luck, page 12
“Please don’t,” I whispered, feeling ridiculously close to tears. I ducked my head, afraid to meet his eyes. “I can’t. Don’t make this more confusing for me than it already is.”
For a few long moments, he said nothing. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. I swallowed convulsively. So much for my invincible red suit. I felt like I’d failed miserably. I heard him resettle in his seat. Had I made a mistake? My gut seemed to think so, and that made me feel even worse.
Taking a long, shaky breath, I sat back. Right then, what I wanted more than anything was to pull out my Tarot cards. Unfortunately, in low gravity I couldn’t count on them remaining where I laid them. Plus, I felt like they’d betrayed me—like they’d known all these things I’d never suspected and had withheld information from me.
Great. Now I’d made things hellishly uncomfortable between us in a small cabin. How could I turn off this crazy reality? By ignoring it, I decided. Besides, I had questions that needed answers, and I refused to let my gnawing hunger for him get the best of me.
“So.” I drew the word out, trying to organize my thoughts. “Back to my mother. You say she wants to find a future-predicting luck gene.”
“Premonitory luck,” he corrected.
“Same difference. If I have it, wouldn’t it make sense that she’d want to observe me and take notes?”
He tapped my c-tex bracelet. His hand didn’t come into contact with mine, which was no doubt intentional. “For all we know, this transmits a steady stream of information about you at all times.”
I looked in horror at the bracelet I’d worn almost every day of my life. “You can’t be serious. How would she even gain access to it?”
Petriv shrugged. “I’ll have my people examine it when we land. It could be your mother decided it was better to observe you from afar rather than become emotionally attached.”
I let that go. I didn’t want to let my brain wander down that road because I suspected it would hurt too much. “What would she do if she found this luck gene?”
“In theory, the possibilities are endless.”
“What do you mean, ‘in theory’? You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not bad, but unpredictable. What may be considered an advantage for one person may not be for another.”
I frowned at him. “So I’m being protected at other people’s expense? I’m getting things someone else might deserve because I have this luck gene?”
“No, but perhaps…” He sighed, then unbuckled his seatbelt and rose carefully from his seat. In the lower gravity, it was possible to bounce out of control if you didn’t pay attention. When he stood, it seemed he took up all the remaining space in the cabin. I felt tiny in comparison and had an awful moment where I wanted him to wrap himself around me.
“Where are you going?” I asked. Gods, had I completely driven him away with my erratic behavior?
Instead he reached down, smoothed back the loose strands of my hair which were floating every which way thanks to the low gravity, and said, “It will be some time before we reach TT1. Try to get some rest. In the meantime, I need to stretch my legs. Rest well, dorogaya moya.” He kissed the top of my head, a gesture which seemed more fatherly than romantic. Then he ducked out of the cabin and into the hall.
* * *
The delay cost us several hours, but thanks to the time difference, a second jet waiting at TT1, and a flight-limo waiting to take us to our accommodations in Denver, we arrived in plenty of time. With my newly forged documentation indicating my eligibility to enter the United Confederation of the West, I sailed through customs and immigration. The UCW had the tightest security protocols on Earth. That Petriv’s people could whip up something so flawless that quickly was nothing short of magic. Too bad I didn’t have time to enjoy the sights in Denver. Given what Petriv had crammed into the itinerary, I wondered if I’d even have time to pee.
There were four of us in the flight-limo—myself, Petriv, and two chain-breakers. Petriv was reserved and withdrawn. He could have been deep in conversation with his people on the CN-net for all I knew, but I suspected it had more to do with me rejecting him on the jet. I felt terrible and sick to my stomach, wondering if I’d screwed everything up. I’d ignored my gut and now I was paying the price. It made our trip to the hotel a silent one. At least I got a lengthy shim from Natty, telling me all about her upcoming cruise. I also answered Rainy’s shim about Grandmother’s birthday party, letting him know I’d be there with the cards.
It was dusk when we reached the hotel—a massive affair of white marble polished to a high gloss. The work involved in maintaining the hotel’s pristine façade had to be backbreaking, and I guessed nano-bugs kept things in order. No person had the patience or the dexterity to maintain something like that. With the white and green up-lighting, UCW flags draped over the balconies, and row upon row of tropical flowers and trees planted in enviro-sealed terrariums, it was impressive. Unfortunately, I couldn’t admire it because the chain-breakers whisked us inside.
The lobby looked no less majestic. The white marble floor was shot through with green and gold. Columns reached to a high vaulted ceiling, which was a mirrored star surface. It reflected the birth of a black hole. The scene played out in time-elapsed high speed, but even still it took a day to show the entire recording. I wondered if they had it on a loop or if it switched to something else when the show ended, then realized I wouldn’t be there long enough to find out.
Before we reached the front desk, we were approached by four men and a woman. Only two of the men, chain-breakers, had true youth. I dismissed them from my mind the only way you could when you saw two overgrown gorillas capable of tearing your head off one-handed—just averted my eyes and pretended they couldn’t see me.
As for the other three, their eyes gave it away. All were older, anywhere between fifty and sixty if I had to guess. One was Karol, my pain in the ass from Nairobi. He met my scowl with a neutral expression. As for the other man, both he and the woman beside him had blond hair, his cut short against his skull while hers flowed down her back in long golden waves. Green eyes, perfect white teeth, chiseled profiles, and peaches-and-cream complexions made them a matching set.
An exchange of Russian followed, along with lots of cheek-kissing and embracing.
Petriv turned to me. “Ms. Sevigny, allow me to introduce you to my colleagues: Vadim and Oksana Ivchenko. You already know Dr. Karol Rogov, the Consortium’s tech-med.”
“We’ve met,” I said, eyeing him warily. At least now I understood his disgust with my bracelet. Tech-meds diagnosed and resolved AI issues, be it a simple wiring problem or an entire personality overhaul. Essentially, they were doctors of technology with varying degrees of specialization.
“A misunderstanding, I assure you.” Karol’s eyes darted between me and Petriv as if to convince us of his sincerity.
I caught Petriv’s frown and remembered the blood I had seen on Karol’s collar. I dredged up a smile and played nice. “Of course. Nothing to worry about.”
Petriv nodded. “Good. Karol will examine your bracelet and determine if it’s free of TransWorld spyware. In the meantime, Oksana will prepare you for tonight’s auction.”
“What will you be doing?” I wanted to know as I placed my c-tex bracelet in Karol’s palm. “Rolling heads?”
He smiled but it felt remote, like it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry, you’re in capable hands.”
I was summarily dismissed as Petriv fell into a rapid and heated conversation with Vadim and they walked away. Was this what it would be like now? Was I nothing to him? If so, it hurt more than I could have imagined. I wanted to call after him, say I was sorry, and tell him…What? I swore under my breath. I was the one who pushed him away. Besides, it wasn’t like we were compatible anyway—him with whatever modifications he had and me with essentially nothing. And Roy…I had to think about Roy. Unfortunately, that didn’t make me feel any better as I watched him go.
My attention was drawn back to Karol as he slunk off with my bracelet, muttering to himself. The chain-breakers carried my bags toward the elevators at the far end of the lobby, presumably taking them to my room. That left me with the blonde goddess Oksana, who smiled but eyed me like livestock at a Martian colonial fair.
“It’s a shame the original outfit the Consortium chose for you for the auction was destroyed in the explosion,” she said. “Still, who doesn’t like an excuse to go shopping? This hotel has an excellent selection of boutiques. I’ve already contacted them and had several gowns set aside for you. With hair and makeup to consider, we must hurry. And shoes! We mustn’t forget the importance of shoes.”
And suddenly I’d just found my new best friend in the entire tri-system.
It was impossible not to rally from my funk with Oksana for company. It was like I’d met the sister I never had. The next several hours were a whirlwind of expensive shops and clothing beyond my wildest dreams. As Oksana took me to each boutique and I tried on gown after gown, I felt like I was living the fashionista fairy tale I’d always dreamed of. Long, short, full, skintight, strapless, backless, and in every color I could possibly envision. And if I wasn’t sure of a gown, Oksana had the offending garment whisked away and out of sight.
Eventually we both decided on a strapless floor-length gown of deep teal. The material was soft chiffon that floated about my legs as I moved. I didn’t even bother looking at the price. It was so beyond my reach, it was laughable.
“I always look best in blue-green,” I said, as we each studied the dress critically in the mirror, taking in the view at all angles.
“This shade is perfect,” she agreed. “You have fabulous eyes, and this will show them to their best advantage.”
“I’m not really here to draw attention to myself,” I said regretfully, running my hands along the dress. The fabric felt like a dream. I think I may have even sighed.
“Ah, but it would be a greater shame to go unnoticed, wouldn’t you agree?” Oksana asked, winking at me. “I know Alexei would think so.”
“To be honest, I don’t know what that man thinks.”
She met my eyes in the mirror. “Well, yes, I suppose he can be an enigma at times. However, I have known him for years and can say with certainty he is driven to succeed like no man I’ve ever known. When he wants something, nothing gets in his way.” She broke the stare and turned away. “Now then, let’s see about finding you some shoes.”
Before I could pursue the subject further, Oksana disappeared and returned with a selection of shoes. I spent the next hour trying on shoes I could never afford. We settled on a pair of matching sandals with sapphire and emerald encrusted heels. Ridiculous, yet I was instantly in love. Also added to the “could never afford” list were earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet of blue-green sapphires and white diamonds which Oksana said I could wear “on loan” for the evening. Hair and makeup were done in the hotel salon. My hair was left down to preserve mystery, and my makeup was done dramatically to reflect my Romani heritage. Intrigued, I asked the stylist to record her steps and the colors she used and send me a copy. She had an interesting brush technique I wanted to try myself once I returned home and life got back to normal. And there would be a “back to normal,” I promised myself. All this shopping may have been fun, but I couldn’t let it go to my head.
While I was in the salon, Karol made an appearance to return my c-tex bracelet, reporting he’d found no bugs, tracers, or anything suspicious. I checked it myself but it seemed the same as before. Then again, it wasn’t like spyware would be obvious—hence the term “spy.”
Three hours later as I managed a quick bite of food, Oksana finally declared me ready. I stood in a lavishly appointed bedroom before a large framed mirror and considered the finished product—dress, hair, makeup, shoes, jewelry. I’d never felt more beautiful and glamorous in my life, and more than anything, I wanted Petriv to see me. See me and…and damn it, what did I want? I’d told him no, and he’d backed off. I knew I shouldn’t let my thoughts wander in that direction. Roy. I needed to focus on what I loved about him. What had originally attracted me? His appearance? Kindness? Sense of humor? Hell, what if I was with him only because he’d been available when I’d needed someone? No, that was too awful to consider. But what did it say about me that I couldn’t remember?
I heard a knock at the door, then Oksana’s lilting voice. My heart leaped into my throat in anticipation, imagining Petriv in the other room. Several deep breaths and a few prayers later—I stepped into the drawing room.
Except it wasn’t Petriv. Not by a longshot. My heart dropped and my stomach did a somersault. My apprehension was replaced with boiling, searing rage.
“You!” I screeched, pointing a turquoise-holoed fingernail. “You goddamn piece of shit! What the hell are you doing here? Get the fuck away from me or I’ll kill you!”
It was Mr. Pennyworth.
Chapter Nine
I launched myself at Pennyworth, striding across the carpeted floor to scratch out his eyes even if it ruined my three-hundred-gold-note manicure and shorted the temporary nail holos. I’d almost reached him when hands restrained me. Two chain-breakers held me effortlessly. I struggled to get free, which was kind of like wrestling a fish underwater—utterly impossible. Only when I went limp did they set me down. By then, I’d exhausted the best of my profanity and worst heat of my anger.
“What’s he doing here?” I demanded, swinging to Oksana in the loose chain-breaker grip.
“We contract out to him on occasion,” she said, a concerned look on her face. “He comes highly recommended and is quite skilled.”
“Skilled at what? Setting people up and leaving them for dead?” I turned to Pennyworth. “I spent a night in a One Gov pit thanks to you!”
“It appears you made it out unscathed,” he answered in the voice that sounded neither male nor female.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m unscathed! What matters is you left me to take the heat for your shitty plan! The clinic had sensors that picked up your worthless smart-matter gas. I paid you to…” My voice trailed off as several things clicked into place. I turned to Oksana. “Where’s Mr. Petriv?” I was surprised at how calm I sounded. “I’d like to speak with him.”
“I’m afraid he’s unavailable.” She looked sorry too.
“I see.” I held myself as still as possible.
Mr. Pennyworth worked for Petriv, though I hadn’t known it at the time and wouldn’t have cared if I did. But his plan’s failure landed me in Petriv’s clutches. Perhaps that explained why Petriv had paid so much for my initial Tarot card reading—he already knew the plan would fail and I would be out all my savings. I supposed there was honor in that if I chose to see it that way. I didn’t.
“I want to see Mr. Petriv or the deal is off. He can find someone else to do his dirty work.” I shook my arms again and glared at Oksana. “Tell these assholes to let me go!”
“Yes, of course, I’m sorry.” She spoke some Russian, and the chain-breakers released me. I rubbed my arms, wincing. I’d have bruises tomorrow.
“Ms. Sevigny, I’m sorry you feel this way. Mr. Petriv would have been here, but after the incident at the space elevator, others within the Tsarist Consortium felt it was better that he not be exposed to such risk and he’s been recalled. It wouldn’t be appropriate to put the Consortium’s heir-apparent in jeopardy,” Mr. Pennyworth said, as if the logic in this should be obvious to someone as dense as me. “You do look lovely in your dress, by the way.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fuck off, Pennyworth.” Heir-apparent, my ass. I paced the room, rubbing my arms. I felt like a caged animal. “I’m not doing this. I want to go home.” No one moved and I stomped around some more to no purpose. “Fine. We can wait here all night. The auction will be over in a few hours anyway.”
“And you’ll return to your shop and your boyfriend, your life having moved no further ahead and all your hopes broken. You’ll be no closer to lifting your blacklisted status, or unraveling the mystery of your mother,” Mr. Pennyworth said, advancing toward me.
“That’s fine.”
“Is it?” he asked, tone merciless, moving until he stood right in front of me. “Tonight everything could change, and yet you stand here pouting like a child. I never thought you were an idiot, Ms. Sevigny. However, I believe you’re behaving like one now.”
I slapped him hard. He didn’t even flinch although I winced as a sharp, stinging pain went through my hand. Was his jaw made of steel?
“Did that satisfy you? Would you like to hit me again? I assure you, it will hurt you more than it does me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!”
“But you would go with Mr. Petriv, I presume?”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“So then you wouldn’t go even if he were here? Is that correct?”
I stalked away without answering. He was right: I was pouting. But damn it, how was I supposed to react? I’d just had the rug pulled out from under me, in a situation where I wasn’t sure who I could trust. I was attracted to a man with a laundry list of ulterior motives, and worst of all, my gut wasn’t telling me anything useful. So I did the only thing I could think to do: I turned to my Tarot cards.
On a nearby desk was the elegant silk evening bag that matched my dress. I fumbled with the clasp, opened it, and dumped out my cards. Then I sat and shuffled. The room grew so silent, I may as well have been alone. Good. That, and the simple act of shuffling, helped calm me.
A one-card spread is the easiest reading in the world. It gives a yes or no answer depending on whether the card is upright or reversed. Deeper analysis can give more information as to the nature of the question, the influencing factors, or how things might be resolved. But in this case, I needed simple: go with Pennyworth or not? I finished shuffling, then cut the deck: Wheel of Fortune, upright. Destiny, success, and an unexpected turn of events. All I could do was hold on and enjoy the ride. I sighed. I’d gotten my answer and then some.
