The Rule of Luck, page 18
“This is Brazil,” Oksana said knowingly. “It is one of my favorite things about this country. There is so much freedom here to be exactly who you want to be.” In her next breath, she said something in Russian to the chain-breakers standing at attention and flung a hand toward the door. All three exited, the door slamming behind them.
“There’s no need for their services now. Alexei would be quite angry if he learned they witnessed this.”
I frowned. “You make it sound like he’s trying to shield me from male attention.”
Oksana put down the glittering shoes she’d been holding and looked at me. “Yes, I suppose there is an element of that involved. He can be…possessive. My understanding is you have an arrangement with him, do you not?”
“A business arrangement that seems to keep sliding into something else,” I muttered, feeling my face burn. “Regardless, it ends when the TransWorld bid is awarded.”
“I see.” Her voice drifted off thoughtfully; then she added, “There are many women who would be envious of your position in his life right now.”
I started at the sharp stab of jealousy I felt at the thought of other women. “Frankly, I’m not sure what that position actually is.”
“Well, I can tell you he’s asked me to do everything in my power to see that you’re comfortable. That he is investing more of his personal time in this project than usual. That he’s rarely so hands-on once a plan has been set in motion. Depending on its complexities, he typically leaves the job to Vadim, myself, and those we deem appropriate. His involvement now is highly unusual. I assumed you were the reason.”
I felt my stomach twist in a nosediving rush of excitement and nerves. “I know he wants me, and of course it’s impossible not to be attracted to him. I mean, look at him. How could I not want him? He’s…” I sighed, not sure what I wanted to say. Telling her he was too perfect wouldn’t cut it. “I know I’m just here to unravel TransWorld for the Consortium. Without me, there’s no plan. Beyond that, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the Consortium’s agenda. I don’t think the two of us would really be compatible in the end.”
She tapped her lips, then smiled. “Perhaps it’s as you say. However if I may offer a word of advice, I do suggest that you open yourself up a little. There are very few men like Alexei in this world, and I would hate for you to regret a missed opportunity.” Then she brushed the whole situation away with a wave of her hand and held up a dress. “Come. Try this on. Alexei wants you ready on the hour and we’ve already wasted twenty minutes.”
I knew nothing about Petriv’s plans for the afternoon other than the fact that I needed to wear comfortable clothing. Aside from shoes without heels, Oksana and I had very dissimilar ideas when it came to what to wear. In this case—a strapless green tube-mini and hair swept into an elaborate uptwist.
Precisely at one, two chain-breakers escorted me to the elevator and down to the hotel lobby. The elevator was encased in a thick glass tube on the outside of the building, allowing passengers a bird’s-eye view of Curitiba. I looked out at the sprawling megacity with its massive towers housing thousands. Brazil was one of the most populated countries in the world and it seemed its city planners were intent on building straight up. Much of its eastern coast had been decimated by the rising global floodwaters during the Dark Times. Some cities had been abandoned while others retreated inland. In theory, the idea was that in building up, green space would still be available rather than overrun with housing. But looking out the elevator glass, all I could see was urban sprawl.
The elevator doors opened into an impressive lobby. I’d studied the hotel floor plans earlier on the CN-net—I was big on knowing where emergency exists were located—but to see it firsthand was something else. It looked the way I imagined a hotel might have looked in colonial times. Not when Mars was first colonized—older—back when the Old World discovered they weren’t the center of the universe and set about exploiting everything they could. Dark fab-wood furniture. A marble floor with alternating tiles of black and white. Murals of exotic animals on the walls. Ornamental palm trees in the corners. Chandeliers dripping with crystals and lighting up the mosaic-patterned ceilings high above. The air was cool and dry and smelled faintly of woodsy musk. Hotel guests sat in clusters of intimately arranged wicker furniture scattered around the massive room.
Tucked into a separate room of its own was the hotel bar. Aside from the bartender who wiped glasses in a way suggesting he had nothing else better to do, I saw only one person there.
Alexei Petriv leaned a forearm on the bar, holding a half finished drink. One foot rested on a barstool and he had a vacant look on his face, suggesting he was browsing the CN-net. As we approached, I noticed female guests whispering to each other and shooting glances in his direction. I completely understood. If I’d been them, I’d be whispering to my girlfriends about Petriv too.
We were halfway to him when he switched on again. He turned and I caught the full force of his gaze. If not for the chain-breakers with me, I think I might have stopped walking altogether. He wore a lightweight gray suit, white shirt open to mid-chest, leaving some of his tattoos partially visible. Black hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it away with an absent swipe of his hand, and there was about a day’s growth of dark stubble on his face. He looked predatory and dangerous. Watching him watching me, I knew something had changed. I wasn’t sure what or why, but I felt our relationship had shifted. Was this the real Petriv, come out to play? Gods help me if it was.
He finished his drink, set down the glass, and offered up the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. Hell. His eyes took me in from head to toe, as if considering all of Oksana’s careful work and deciding it was more than adequate. When he reached out to me, part of me wanted to slap his hand away, while the other part of me simply went to him, unable to refuse.
His hand took mine, engulfing it. This close, I could smell subtle cologne that nearly had me falling into his arms. I also caught a faint odor of alcohol, which made me wonder how long he’d waited there. Over my head, he spoke in Russian to the bodyguards, who peeled off and disappeared. My tension rose a notch. Did I think I needed protection from him?
“Have a seat,” he said, and before I could protest, he picked me up by the waist and set me on the barstool beside him as if I weighed nothing.
My eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?” I didn’t care if I sounded critical and disapproving. It was the only defense I had against him.
“Unfortunately, no. I metabolize alcohol too quickly. It would take a significant amount of time, effort, and alcohol to work me up into a proper stupor.”
“Then why bother?”
He stared into his empty glass. “I like the taste and it reminds me of home.”
“Isn’t it a bit stereotypical to be Russian and drink vodka?”
He laughed. “I never imagined I might one day be considered a stereotypical Russian.”
We were moving dangerously close to flirting so I tried to rein myself in. “So what’s the plan?”
“Today is the feast of Nossa Senhora das águas,” he said, signaling the bartender for another drink. I contemplated getting one myself but declined when he looked expectantly at me. He might not get drunk, but I would. With Petriv, I needed all my wits about me.
His drink came with relative speed. I noted the clear liquid served straight up, three fingers in the glass.
“Our Lady of the Waters,” I translated from the Portuguese. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a local religious holiday commemorating two days more than three hundred years ago when the Blessed Virgin saved the city from the rising oceans. The story goes that people prayed continuously as the ocean rose and threatened to swamp the countryside. On the third day, the moon eclipsed the sun, the sun swept down across the land, the Blessed Virgin spoke and told the citizens they needed to overthrow false gods, revealed three secrets, and the waters receded. Every year, the city shuts down for two days in commemoration and celebration of the miracle.”
I nodded. Who was I to judge miracles and faith? After the terror of the Dark Times, people swung back to religion with fanatical furor. My family held a wide range of beliefs. I burned incense to any number of deities—Christian included—I liked to cover all my bases.
“How does that relate to my mother and TransWorld?”
“It doesn’t,” he said, offering up a grin before taking a sip of his drink.
“I’m not following. If we’re not going to confront her, why are we here?”
Another sip of vodka. “Because I don’t yet have the evidence I need. I’ve nothing to work with.”
I wanted to bang my head on the bar in frustration. “Then maybe I should be drinking too. I thought you told your Tsarist friends they could expect results.”
“Telling them what they want to hear makes things much simpler.”
“What happens if you can’t deliver? Do they break your legs? Or mine, for that matter?”
Petriv cast a look at my legs, left bare thanks to the butt-brushing tube-mini. He spent a long moment considering—so long, I felt myself flush. “I would say there’s no danger of anything happening to your legs or other parts of your anatomy. Not from them, at least.”
Yup, that did it. The flush grew, even as I tried to fight it. Petriv went back to his drink.
“I’m not without ideas,” he continued. “Just nothing concrete to present. As I was saying, the city shuts down for two days for the feast of Nossa Senhora das águas. TransWorld is a large employer here, so they host a companywide picnic at the botanical gardens. The entire city is invited. Based on research, we know your mother usually attends. My hope is to intercept her and use your presence to force a reaction.”
“Sounds like wishful thinking,” I offered. “After what happened at the auction, she may even be expecting me.”
“Well, it’s not without its flaws, but the timing is perfect. If I get what I need to spoil the bid now, so much the better. If not, we try again. We have two weeks, after all.”
“What happens if you fail? What will the Consortium do?”
He drained his drink in a long swallow then set the glass down with deliberate care, as if uncertain whether or not he might smash it. “I won’t fail.”
“But what if you do?” I pressed because I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “What makes you so confident?”
He turned to me, his gaze appraising where before it was playful. Then he stepped in close, one leg finding its way between my knees a one hand coming to rest on the back of my barstool. He placed his other hand on my thigh, his long fingers brushing just under the hemline of my dress. His thumb rested close to my left hip bone and began to circle gently. The overall effect left me both aroused and confused. I fought not to move, feeling like I might startle a wild animal if I did. “Have you seen something of interest in your cards, my little Tarot card reader?”
I thought of the countless readings I’d done on him, Death and the Lovers appearing over and over again, and my throat went dry. “Nothing I can recall.”
Petriv cocked an eyebrow. “Should that change, please mention it. What I’m paying you should entitle me to at least one reading. In answer to your question, I’m confident because I was born for this. One day I will lead the Consortium. Failure in this, or in anything, is not an option. TransWorld is only a stepping stone. Beyond lies true power.”
“You’re aware you sound like a megalomaniac, right?” The words were out before I could stop them. It was all I could do not to clamp a hand over my mouth.
“Perhaps. I’ve been called worse.” He barked a laugh, but it sounded bitter. The rubbing on my hip stopped and he removed his hand. When he stepped out from between my knees I felt a mixture of both relief and disappointment. “Time to go, Ms. Sevigny. We have a picnic to attend.”
He reached out and eased me from the barstool. My inner thigh accidentally brushed his. Our eyes met and again I saw the heat in his gaze.
“Careful, Ms. Sevigny,” he whispered, his lips at my ear. “I believe we still have some unresolved business.”
Oh yes, Petriv had definitely come out to play. “And if we had the time, maybe I’d let you resolve it. But as you said, we have a picnic to attend.”
He laughed, deep and throaty without any trace of the earlier bitterness. Then he stepped back and held out an arm for me to take, grinning at me, clearly amused. Odd, but knowing I could make him laugh somehow took the pressure off. I felt less like I was in the middle of a sexual powder keg.
Unfortunately, I realized that by not being so focused on Petriv, I had a host of other problems with which to concern myself. I had plenty of room left in my brain to worry about my mother. Today may or may not be the day I met her after years of thinking she was dead. What would I say to her? How would I react? What emotions was I supposed to feel? Hell, was I even emotionally ready to see her? I didn’t know, but with Petriv dragging me inexorably after him, I was certainly going to find out.
Chapter Thirteen
A flight-limo dropped us off a block from the picnic. With the streets closed and filled with foot traffic, it was as near as we could get. The weather was hot, the sky cloudless, and the sun beat down mercilessly. Petriv’s suit and Tru-Tan meant he was better protected against its damaging rays, but we both applied UV protection spray to any exposed skin. In ten minutes, the intense Brazilian sun could cause terrible burns.
The streets were lined with palm trees. Urns filled with exotic flowers I didn’t recognize were spaced every few meters, though I could scan them with my bracelet if I was curious. There were also open-air shops and cafes. The atmosphere was one of general celebration as people waded around us. I watched through my sunshades—couples and families of three, laughing and enjoying the holiday without a care. A week ago, I’d been one of them.
All at once, it hit me again. Sharp, piercing rage filled me and I felt like my heart would beat its way through my chest. I thought of Roy and his stupid, pregnant wife and wanted to lash out with a vengeance that staggered me. How could anyone do that to a person? How had he rationalized our relationship to himself? I had to stop walking, both hands clutching my chest as if that would hold me together.
“Ms. Sevigny? Are you ill?”
“I’m fine. Give me a second,” I said, the words a grunt. Better that than crying.
Petriv steered me away from the crowd until we were shaded by a line of palm trees. I let him. Easier to do that than resist. Besides, I didn’t feel like resisting. Not when the rage turned to a gnawing sadness. Even if it had been all lies, I’d still loved my easy life with Roy with its lack of complications. Or passion, I reminded myself. Maybe that’s why it had been so simple—he fit into the fantasy of what I thought my life should be. After Dante, it was so much easier not to care too much. That way, things hurt less when they all went wrong and you ended up disappointed. Perhaps I could have inserted any man. No, not true. For a second, I tried to imagine what a life with Alexei Petriv might be like, and couldn’t. It was beyond anything I could envision.
“You’re not fine,” Petriv said, bringing my attention to him as he tipped my face to his. He’d already removed his sunshades and tucked them into a jacket pocket before he plucked mine from my face to study me. “You’re anything but.”
I sniffed and fought back tears. “I’m just having a moment. That’s what I do. I cry and have dramatic moments all the time.”
He smiled. “So far, you haven’t struck me as the type unless the situation calls for it. What’s wrong? Nerves?”
“No. Not yet, anyway,” I said, shaking my head in his loose hold. “It just hit me that this wasn’t the life I ordered. I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be.” I gestured vaguely to the people around us. “I thought I’d have…that by now.”
“Few get exactly what they want in life.” He smoothed a piece of hair back from my face, one Oksana had left free to be artfully wispy. His smile faded. “If you want, I will kill Roy for you.”
My eyes went wide. I could see it in his face. He would kill Roy if I asked him. My heart dropped into my stomach as I again realized the world I’d fallen into. Hello, Alice. Fall through the looking glass much?
“No, don’t. He’s going to be a father and I don’t want that on my conscience.” I thought a moment longer. “I don’t think I care about him enough to want him dead.”
“As you wish,” he said, inclining his head in a small nod.
I pulled away, or tried to. It unnerved me to have him touch me so intimately as we stood beneath the palm trees and discussed murder while the rest of the world strolled around us. I needed our relationship to get back to normal—whatever qualified as normal.
After a few seconds, he let me go and handed back my sunshades. Our fingers touched and he murmured, “What I said is a standing offer. Say the word, and I will do it.”
I swallowed, breathless. “Okay.”
He put his own glasses back on and held out his arm. “Shall we continue? My people on the ground have sighted your mother at the picnic. However, we can try again tomorrow if you’re not ready.”
A few more seconds of my bumbling as I put on the sunshades. “But she won’t be there tomorrow, will she?”
“There is that,” he conceded.
The prospect of running was tantalizing, but that was fear talking. I had to keep going if I wanted my life back. My gut agreed. It pushed me forward with an intensity I rarely felt. In fact since meeting Petriv, the kick in my gut feeling seemed to have increased a thousandfold.
I took his arm and squared my shoulders. “We’re here. Let’s do this.”
A short time later, we waited in line for the botanical gardens. From where I stood, I saw the main greenhouse. I also caught the telltale shimmer of the nano-sunshade over the entire affair. It filtered out the worst of the sun’s damaging rays while letting in the rest of the elements. I closed myself off to the laughing children and the chatter of families around us, and concentrated on the task at hand. Unfortunately, I couldn’t block out the scents as the perfumes of hundreds of flowers filled the air. They even managed to drown out Petriv’s cologne—a good thing, I decided.
“There’s no need for their services now. Alexei would be quite angry if he learned they witnessed this.”
I frowned. “You make it sound like he’s trying to shield me from male attention.”
Oksana put down the glittering shoes she’d been holding and looked at me. “Yes, I suppose there is an element of that involved. He can be…possessive. My understanding is you have an arrangement with him, do you not?”
“A business arrangement that seems to keep sliding into something else,” I muttered, feeling my face burn. “Regardless, it ends when the TransWorld bid is awarded.”
“I see.” Her voice drifted off thoughtfully; then she added, “There are many women who would be envious of your position in his life right now.”
I started at the sharp stab of jealousy I felt at the thought of other women. “Frankly, I’m not sure what that position actually is.”
“Well, I can tell you he’s asked me to do everything in my power to see that you’re comfortable. That he is investing more of his personal time in this project than usual. That he’s rarely so hands-on once a plan has been set in motion. Depending on its complexities, he typically leaves the job to Vadim, myself, and those we deem appropriate. His involvement now is highly unusual. I assumed you were the reason.”
I felt my stomach twist in a nosediving rush of excitement and nerves. “I know he wants me, and of course it’s impossible not to be attracted to him. I mean, look at him. How could I not want him? He’s…” I sighed, not sure what I wanted to say. Telling her he was too perfect wouldn’t cut it. “I know I’m just here to unravel TransWorld for the Consortium. Without me, there’s no plan. Beyond that, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the Consortium’s agenda. I don’t think the two of us would really be compatible in the end.”
She tapped her lips, then smiled. “Perhaps it’s as you say. However if I may offer a word of advice, I do suggest that you open yourself up a little. There are very few men like Alexei in this world, and I would hate for you to regret a missed opportunity.” Then she brushed the whole situation away with a wave of her hand and held up a dress. “Come. Try this on. Alexei wants you ready on the hour and we’ve already wasted twenty minutes.”
I knew nothing about Petriv’s plans for the afternoon other than the fact that I needed to wear comfortable clothing. Aside from shoes without heels, Oksana and I had very dissimilar ideas when it came to what to wear. In this case—a strapless green tube-mini and hair swept into an elaborate uptwist.
Precisely at one, two chain-breakers escorted me to the elevator and down to the hotel lobby. The elevator was encased in a thick glass tube on the outside of the building, allowing passengers a bird’s-eye view of Curitiba. I looked out at the sprawling megacity with its massive towers housing thousands. Brazil was one of the most populated countries in the world and it seemed its city planners were intent on building straight up. Much of its eastern coast had been decimated by the rising global floodwaters during the Dark Times. Some cities had been abandoned while others retreated inland. In theory, the idea was that in building up, green space would still be available rather than overrun with housing. But looking out the elevator glass, all I could see was urban sprawl.
The elevator doors opened into an impressive lobby. I’d studied the hotel floor plans earlier on the CN-net—I was big on knowing where emergency exists were located—but to see it firsthand was something else. It looked the way I imagined a hotel might have looked in colonial times. Not when Mars was first colonized—older—back when the Old World discovered they weren’t the center of the universe and set about exploiting everything they could. Dark fab-wood furniture. A marble floor with alternating tiles of black and white. Murals of exotic animals on the walls. Ornamental palm trees in the corners. Chandeliers dripping with crystals and lighting up the mosaic-patterned ceilings high above. The air was cool and dry and smelled faintly of woodsy musk. Hotel guests sat in clusters of intimately arranged wicker furniture scattered around the massive room.
Tucked into a separate room of its own was the hotel bar. Aside from the bartender who wiped glasses in a way suggesting he had nothing else better to do, I saw only one person there.
Alexei Petriv leaned a forearm on the bar, holding a half finished drink. One foot rested on a barstool and he had a vacant look on his face, suggesting he was browsing the CN-net. As we approached, I noticed female guests whispering to each other and shooting glances in his direction. I completely understood. If I’d been them, I’d be whispering to my girlfriends about Petriv too.
We were halfway to him when he switched on again. He turned and I caught the full force of his gaze. If not for the chain-breakers with me, I think I might have stopped walking altogether. He wore a lightweight gray suit, white shirt open to mid-chest, leaving some of his tattoos partially visible. Black hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it away with an absent swipe of his hand, and there was about a day’s growth of dark stubble on his face. He looked predatory and dangerous. Watching him watching me, I knew something had changed. I wasn’t sure what or why, but I felt our relationship had shifted. Was this the real Petriv, come out to play? Gods help me if it was.
He finished his drink, set down the glass, and offered up the sexiest smile I’d ever seen. Hell. His eyes took me in from head to toe, as if considering all of Oksana’s careful work and deciding it was more than adequate. When he reached out to me, part of me wanted to slap his hand away, while the other part of me simply went to him, unable to refuse.
His hand took mine, engulfing it. This close, I could smell subtle cologne that nearly had me falling into his arms. I also caught a faint odor of alcohol, which made me wonder how long he’d waited there. Over my head, he spoke in Russian to the bodyguards, who peeled off and disappeared. My tension rose a notch. Did I think I needed protection from him?
“Have a seat,” he said, and before I could protest, he picked me up by the waist and set me on the barstool beside him as if I weighed nothing.
My eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?” I didn’t care if I sounded critical and disapproving. It was the only defense I had against him.
“Unfortunately, no. I metabolize alcohol too quickly. It would take a significant amount of time, effort, and alcohol to work me up into a proper stupor.”
“Then why bother?”
He stared into his empty glass. “I like the taste and it reminds me of home.”
“Isn’t it a bit stereotypical to be Russian and drink vodka?”
He laughed. “I never imagined I might one day be considered a stereotypical Russian.”
We were moving dangerously close to flirting so I tried to rein myself in. “So what’s the plan?”
“Today is the feast of Nossa Senhora das águas,” he said, signaling the bartender for another drink. I contemplated getting one myself but declined when he looked expectantly at me. He might not get drunk, but I would. With Petriv, I needed all my wits about me.
His drink came with relative speed. I noted the clear liquid served straight up, three fingers in the glass.
“Our Lady of the Waters,” I translated from the Portuguese. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a local religious holiday commemorating two days more than three hundred years ago when the Blessed Virgin saved the city from the rising oceans. The story goes that people prayed continuously as the ocean rose and threatened to swamp the countryside. On the third day, the moon eclipsed the sun, the sun swept down across the land, the Blessed Virgin spoke and told the citizens they needed to overthrow false gods, revealed three secrets, and the waters receded. Every year, the city shuts down for two days in commemoration and celebration of the miracle.”
I nodded. Who was I to judge miracles and faith? After the terror of the Dark Times, people swung back to religion with fanatical furor. My family held a wide range of beliefs. I burned incense to any number of deities—Christian included—I liked to cover all my bases.
“How does that relate to my mother and TransWorld?”
“It doesn’t,” he said, offering up a grin before taking a sip of his drink.
“I’m not following. If we’re not going to confront her, why are we here?”
Another sip of vodka. “Because I don’t yet have the evidence I need. I’ve nothing to work with.”
I wanted to bang my head on the bar in frustration. “Then maybe I should be drinking too. I thought you told your Tsarist friends they could expect results.”
“Telling them what they want to hear makes things much simpler.”
“What happens if you can’t deliver? Do they break your legs? Or mine, for that matter?”
Petriv cast a look at my legs, left bare thanks to the butt-brushing tube-mini. He spent a long moment considering—so long, I felt myself flush. “I would say there’s no danger of anything happening to your legs or other parts of your anatomy. Not from them, at least.”
Yup, that did it. The flush grew, even as I tried to fight it. Petriv went back to his drink.
“I’m not without ideas,” he continued. “Just nothing concrete to present. As I was saying, the city shuts down for two days for the feast of Nossa Senhora das águas. TransWorld is a large employer here, so they host a companywide picnic at the botanical gardens. The entire city is invited. Based on research, we know your mother usually attends. My hope is to intercept her and use your presence to force a reaction.”
“Sounds like wishful thinking,” I offered. “After what happened at the auction, she may even be expecting me.”
“Well, it’s not without its flaws, but the timing is perfect. If I get what I need to spoil the bid now, so much the better. If not, we try again. We have two weeks, after all.”
“What happens if you fail? What will the Consortium do?”
He drained his drink in a long swallow then set the glass down with deliberate care, as if uncertain whether or not he might smash it. “I won’t fail.”
“But what if you do?” I pressed because I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “What makes you so confident?”
He turned to me, his gaze appraising where before it was playful. Then he stepped in close, one leg finding its way between my knees a one hand coming to rest on the back of my barstool. He placed his other hand on my thigh, his long fingers brushing just under the hemline of my dress. His thumb rested close to my left hip bone and began to circle gently. The overall effect left me both aroused and confused. I fought not to move, feeling like I might startle a wild animal if I did. “Have you seen something of interest in your cards, my little Tarot card reader?”
I thought of the countless readings I’d done on him, Death and the Lovers appearing over and over again, and my throat went dry. “Nothing I can recall.”
Petriv cocked an eyebrow. “Should that change, please mention it. What I’m paying you should entitle me to at least one reading. In answer to your question, I’m confident because I was born for this. One day I will lead the Consortium. Failure in this, or in anything, is not an option. TransWorld is only a stepping stone. Beyond lies true power.”
“You’re aware you sound like a megalomaniac, right?” The words were out before I could stop them. It was all I could do not to clamp a hand over my mouth.
“Perhaps. I’ve been called worse.” He barked a laugh, but it sounded bitter. The rubbing on my hip stopped and he removed his hand. When he stepped out from between my knees I felt a mixture of both relief and disappointment. “Time to go, Ms. Sevigny. We have a picnic to attend.”
He reached out and eased me from the barstool. My inner thigh accidentally brushed his. Our eyes met and again I saw the heat in his gaze.
“Careful, Ms. Sevigny,” he whispered, his lips at my ear. “I believe we still have some unresolved business.”
Oh yes, Petriv had definitely come out to play. “And if we had the time, maybe I’d let you resolve it. But as you said, we have a picnic to attend.”
He laughed, deep and throaty without any trace of the earlier bitterness. Then he stepped back and held out an arm for me to take, grinning at me, clearly amused. Odd, but knowing I could make him laugh somehow took the pressure off. I felt less like I was in the middle of a sexual powder keg.
Unfortunately, I realized that by not being so focused on Petriv, I had a host of other problems with which to concern myself. I had plenty of room left in my brain to worry about my mother. Today may or may not be the day I met her after years of thinking she was dead. What would I say to her? How would I react? What emotions was I supposed to feel? Hell, was I even emotionally ready to see her? I didn’t know, but with Petriv dragging me inexorably after him, I was certainly going to find out.
Chapter Thirteen
A flight-limo dropped us off a block from the picnic. With the streets closed and filled with foot traffic, it was as near as we could get. The weather was hot, the sky cloudless, and the sun beat down mercilessly. Petriv’s suit and Tru-Tan meant he was better protected against its damaging rays, but we both applied UV protection spray to any exposed skin. In ten minutes, the intense Brazilian sun could cause terrible burns.
The streets were lined with palm trees. Urns filled with exotic flowers I didn’t recognize were spaced every few meters, though I could scan them with my bracelet if I was curious. There were also open-air shops and cafes. The atmosphere was one of general celebration as people waded around us. I watched through my sunshades—couples and families of three, laughing and enjoying the holiday without a care. A week ago, I’d been one of them.
All at once, it hit me again. Sharp, piercing rage filled me and I felt like my heart would beat its way through my chest. I thought of Roy and his stupid, pregnant wife and wanted to lash out with a vengeance that staggered me. How could anyone do that to a person? How had he rationalized our relationship to himself? I had to stop walking, both hands clutching my chest as if that would hold me together.
“Ms. Sevigny? Are you ill?”
“I’m fine. Give me a second,” I said, the words a grunt. Better that than crying.
Petriv steered me away from the crowd until we were shaded by a line of palm trees. I let him. Easier to do that than resist. Besides, I didn’t feel like resisting. Not when the rage turned to a gnawing sadness. Even if it had been all lies, I’d still loved my easy life with Roy with its lack of complications. Or passion, I reminded myself. Maybe that’s why it had been so simple—he fit into the fantasy of what I thought my life should be. After Dante, it was so much easier not to care too much. That way, things hurt less when they all went wrong and you ended up disappointed. Perhaps I could have inserted any man. No, not true. For a second, I tried to imagine what a life with Alexei Petriv might be like, and couldn’t. It was beyond anything I could envision.
“You’re not fine,” Petriv said, bringing my attention to him as he tipped my face to his. He’d already removed his sunshades and tucked them into a jacket pocket before he plucked mine from my face to study me. “You’re anything but.”
I sniffed and fought back tears. “I’m just having a moment. That’s what I do. I cry and have dramatic moments all the time.”
He smiled. “So far, you haven’t struck me as the type unless the situation calls for it. What’s wrong? Nerves?”
“No. Not yet, anyway,” I said, shaking my head in his loose hold. “It just hit me that this wasn’t the life I ordered. I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be.” I gestured vaguely to the people around us. “I thought I’d have…that by now.”
“Few get exactly what they want in life.” He smoothed a piece of hair back from my face, one Oksana had left free to be artfully wispy. His smile faded. “If you want, I will kill Roy for you.”
My eyes went wide. I could see it in his face. He would kill Roy if I asked him. My heart dropped into my stomach as I again realized the world I’d fallen into. Hello, Alice. Fall through the looking glass much?
“No, don’t. He’s going to be a father and I don’t want that on my conscience.” I thought a moment longer. “I don’t think I care about him enough to want him dead.”
“As you wish,” he said, inclining his head in a small nod.
I pulled away, or tried to. It unnerved me to have him touch me so intimately as we stood beneath the palm trees and discussed murder while the rest of the world strolled around us. I needed our relationship to get back to normal—whatever qualified as normal.
After a few seconds, he let me go and handed back my sunshades. Our fingers touched and he murmured, “What I said is a standing offer. Say the word, and I will do it.”
I swallowed, breathless. “Okay.”
He put his own glasses back on and held out his arm. “Shall we continue? My people on the ground have sighted your mother at the picnic. However, we can try again tomorrow if you’re not ready.”
A few more seconds of my bumbling as I put on the sunshades. “But she won’t be there tomorrow, will she?”
“There is that,” he conceded.
The prospect of running was tantalizing, but that was fear talking. I had to keep going if I wanted my life back. My gut agreed. It pushed me forward with an intensity I rarely felt. In fact since meeting Petriv, the kick in my gut feeling seemed to have increased a thousandfold.
I took his arm and squared my shoulders. “We’re here. Let’s do this.”
A short time later, we waited in line for the botanical gardens. From where I stood, I saw the main greenhouse. I also caught the telltale shimmer of the nano-sunshade over the entire affair. It filtered out the worst of the sun’s damaging rays while letting in the rest of the elements. I closed myself off to the laughing children and the chatter of families around us, and concentrated on the task at hand. Unfortunately, I couldn’t block out the scents as the perfumes of hundreds of flowers filled the air. They even managed to drown out Petriv’s cologne—a good thing, I decided.
