The Rule of Luck, page 20
“Maybe there are things you’re better off not knowing.”
“So yes to the Death card.” He shook his head and laughed softly as if I confirmed what he’d always suspected. “Anything else?”
“I don’t feel comfortable discussing this.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
“Because I don’t want to plant ideas that aren’t necessarily true,” I said, hedging.
He leaned toward me, eliminating the space between us. “Is there another card in your readings about me that bothers you?”
“The Lovers.” I bowed my head, feeling my cheeks flush. “It appears in all the readings.”
“Well, that’s not unexpected. You already know what I want,” he said. “Although I’m sure you would say I shouldn’t take it as a literal interpretation of future events.”
“It’s your future. You can interpret it however you want.”
“Yes, I suppose I can.”
Silence descended as I laid the remainder of the spread. It was all I could do to hold back a sigh as the reading charted the course of my relationship with Petriv. The eighth card, representing outside influences, was Death. And there, in the hopes-and-fears slot as Card Nine, was the Lovers.
“I assume that’s the answer for whatever it is you asked,” he said, instead tapping the final card in the spread. “What does it mean?”
“Two of Cups, reversed. It means there are problems getting in the way of this.” I tapped the Lovers, my hand next to his, and forced myself to fall into the patter I used when reading for customers. “This is the beginning of a partnership. Based on the Lovers, I’d say it’s a romantic relationship with immense potential. However, there are obstacles in its path that could be possible showstoppers because of this.” I touched the Death card. “It represents the people around you, reacting to you. Sudden change is coming and you could lose everything you hoped to gain.” I also touched the card in the seventh position: the Hermit, reversed. It had also come up in many of the readings I’d done. “There’s also a problem here. This shows your attitude toward what’s happening. You’re concealing the truth, or spreading misinformation. There’s something you’re holding back, and until that secret comes out or you change how you react to the world, you’re not going to get your happy ending.”
I bent to gather up the cards in one swoop. Petriv’s hand on my wrist stopped me. I looked up at him and my breath caught; he watched me with an intensity that made me shiver. I swallowed and left the cards, holding his gaze.
“It’s your future too,” he said simply. “What do you want?”
I blinked. I’d never thought about it that way—that this future could be mine as well and that if I wanted it, if I wanted him…The truth was sitting right there on the table in front of us, for both of us to see…Maybe with Alexei Petriv, even if he was a man I had no business being with, I could somehow have something more.
So, what did I want? “I don’t want to ever wonder where I stand with someone. I don’t want lies or secrets, or have to hide who I am. I don’t want anything like the disastrous relationships I’ve had in the past.”
“A tall order, considering.”
“You asked what I wanted. That’s what I want.”
A resigned look flitted across his face and he sighed. “We both know that whatever might happen between us will never be anything but complicated.”
I thought my heart would beat its way out of my chest with both fear and anticipation. “True, but I think we both knew that right from the beginning.”
“Unfortunately, I have never wanted complicated. I would have you on your back or your knees in less time than it takes you to draw breath, but this…The thing you want is impossible for me.” He took a deep breath, let it out, and ran both hands through his hair, creating a sexy mess. It was a gesture I noticed he made whenever he was agitated with me.
Then to my absolute horror, he stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair where he’d left it. I watched openmouthed as he slipped it over his shoulders.
“You’re leaving?” I think I actually shrieked the words. “I do one Tarot reading for you and this is what happens? You run away? Because this is too complicated? What about the restaurant, or the day before when you said you wanted nothing more than to touch me? I thought you…wanted me.” My voice hitched and I found myself dangerously close to tears. How could I have been so wrong about him? “Why did you say all those things to me if you didn’t mean them?”
“Because sometimes a man will say anything in order to have a woman under him. I would still very much like to fuck you, but I see now it would mean very different things to each of us. Two of Cups reversed, after all. One of us will ruin this. I suspect it will be me. It would be better to end this before it starts.”
I sat there shocked, watching his back and broad shoulders, his posture stiff with resolve. Gods, was this actually happening? A tear leaked out before I could blink it back. How many damned times would I pick the wrong man? I claimed to never lie to myself, and yet here I was, letting myself believe that this mattered, that he might actually want me after the fiasco with Roy and the crushing heartbreak of Dante. How could I be so stupid all over again?
I looked down at the cards on the table. They’d always held the truth even if I still lacked some of the details. Was I willing to let that go yet? “But what if it’s already started?”
“If it has, it will not go further. I will not go down this road with you.” He strode across the room, his hand on the door handle. “Once I determine the best way to approach your mother, I’ll be in touch. Until then, do svidaniya, Ms. Sevigny.”
And before I could think of a retort or jump to my feet to stop him, he was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
I don’t care what anyone says—cold showers are useless.
Even still, I spent the next half hour standing in the shower stall, alternating the water temperature between freezing and tepid as if that might somehow calm me down. The room also contained a deluxe sonic-cleaner. Seeing that made me cry a little, reminding me of the condo I’d shared with Roy and my shattered dreams for the future—a future I wasn’t even sure I wanted anymore. Petriv’s rejection was the finishing touch to one of the most horrific weeks of my entire life.
When I could no longer stay in the shower, I paced the room like the cage it was. From one end of the suite to the other, to the balcony and the cool evening air, then back again—I ran the circuit until I exhausted myself, alternating between tears and vicious bouts of profanity. I was angry at myself for getting into this situation. At Petriv for making me want him, then tossing me aside. At Roy for his lies. At my mother for making me little more than a research project. At TransWorld and their manipulation designed to exploit and capitalize on my alleged luck gene. I sure as shit didn’t feel lucky now.
My c-tex fluttered against my wrist, indicating room service had arrived with whatever Petriv had ordered earlier. I ignored it, hoping it would explode his calorie consumption index through the roof, though I knew he wasn’t affected by such things. I continued pacing instead, unable to get a grip on my feelings. I couldn’t even imagine eating now.
Sometime later, I heard a knock at the door. Startled, I answered without having the AI scan the hall, illogically hoping it was Petriv. My face fell when I found his tech-med standing on the threshold.
“Karol. Hi. What are you doing here?”
I knew I looked terrible. My eyes were red and blotchy, and my nose ran like a broken faucet. I was distraught over something I’d created in my own head and Petriv wasn’t interested in pursuing—or at least not in the way I wanted. Maybe he’d even told Karol to deal with me because he thought me too unstable.
If Karol noticed my state of disarray, he said nothing. Instead, he entered looking as ill at ease as I did, displaying none of the arrogance of our first shim communication.
“Good evening, Ms. Sevigny. I have some good news,” he said in that nasally, accented voice. “The team Gospodin Petriv assigned to locate the contents of your condo was successful earlier today. Everything was found in a storage facility outside Nairobi. As we speak, your belongings are being returned to their original location.”
I blinked. I’d forgotten all about that in light of my current Petriv-induced drama. I tried to dredge up a spurt of excitement and failed miserably. “So I can go back to my condo?”
“It’s unadvisable given TransWorld’s interest in you, but yes. Gospodin Petriv bought the condo from the holding company and transferred sole ownership to your name. You’ll find a shim with the new building access codes, which should prevent future break-ins.”
Wow. He’d bought the condo for me. What a lovely parting gift. Should I be amazed and grateful or pissed and irritated? Pissed and irritated won, hands down. “What if I don’t want to live there anymore? It’s not like it’s chock-full of good memories now.”
Karol looked at a loss for words, as if I’d said something outside whatever script he usually followed. “You could always sell it back to the Consortium, I suppose,” he tried. “It’s yours, so you can do whatever you wish with it.”
“What would Mr. Petriv do if I said I didn’t want it?”
“I’m not certain he would mind one way or the other. He rarely comments to me on such matters.”
The man looked uncomfortable—probably wondering if Petriv would smack him around again because of a minor slight toward me—so I gave up tormenting him. The joke was on him anyway. Petriv had cock-blocked himself; there was no need to cozy up to me. “It’s fine. I appreciate the condo.”
I don’t think my thanks were effusive enough, or maybe just Karol wanted more. He blinked and cleared his throat, then made a few “ahms” and “well thens” before resettling himself.
“Do you like the new updates to your c-tex bracelet?” he tried. “I gave you mainline AI access for whatever region you happen to be in, bumped your CN-net space to unlimited storage, and upgraded the holo pop-up capacity. I would have done more but I’m restricted by the technology. You should consider external t-mod adapters. They may not have the same abilities as internal, but they’re an improvement over your c-tex.”
“Did Mr. Petriv tell you to do that?”
“He asked me earlier to improve your tech situation. I thought these were useful additions.”
As infuriated as I was with Petriv, I couldn’t help being interested. “I didn’t know external t-mods were possible.”
“It’s something the Tsarist Consortium perfected years ago, but One Gov wasn’t interested. They believed the population segment that might benefit was too small. However, the product does quite well in the underground markets on Mars and Venus.”
Black markets on Mars and Venus—I filed that information for later. In the meantime I considered the benefits of a tech boost, though it would drive my family insane. “What other projects are you working on?”
“Quantum teleporting of solid matter. Lightspeed propulsion drives. Remote asteroid mining via AI drones, cellular reconstruction to allow for more rapid healing and potential shape-shifting abilities,” he rattled off immediately. I blinked. No wonder the man had scoffed at my antiquated c-tex bracelet.
“People could actually change their shape to whatever they wanted?”
“Possibly. We’re also exploring the potential to upgrade MH Factors after birth rather than in the womb. Most of the projects are still in the planning and hypothetical phases, though we’ve made good progress on the teleporting. Some testing, but nothing concrete we’re ready to present. A foothold on Mars would be a significant step to furthering our research.”
“I thought teleporting was illegal.”
“Not precisely. One Gov hasn’t decreed it yet, at any rate.”
“Probably because no one thinks it can be done. Listen, are you sure you should tell me this? Isn’t it confidential Consortium information?” I asked, deciding I couldn’t hear anymore. The less I knew about their business, the better, even if secrets were spilled to me at every turn.
“Gospodin Petriv obviously values you. Otherwise, why all this?” He made a vague gesture that could encompass anything from my being in the hotel, to buying my condo, to my recent globetrotting. To Karol, I was Petriv’s newest toy. A toy he didn’t want to play with anymore, I reminded myself.
“This has all been very interesting, and thank you for the…news. I think I’ll turn in for the evening,” I said. Time to get him out of the room so I could continue my freak-out.
“Yes, I understand. I believe I heard Oksana suggest asking you to join them for a night out in the city, but there was some concern that you needed your rest. Gospodin Petriv felt it best you not be disturbed, though I was sure he would have wanted you to know about the condo findings as soon as they became available.”
I frowned. “He’s not here?”
“Correct. He’s never cared for Brazil, so I found it strange that he accepted Oksana’s invitation, but…” He shrugged. “I’m the only one on-site at the moment. I’ve some AI issues to address.”
“I see.” No, I didn’t see. Petriv was out while I paced my hotel room, driving myself insane because I all I could think of was him. That…asshole!
Oblivious to my turmoil, Karol nodded. “Have a pleasant evening and sleep well, Ms. Sevigny.” He bowed a little and showed himself out.
Once again, I was alone. Yet instead of being sexually frustrated and confused, I also had the pleasure of being angrier than I’d ever been in my life. Before I even knew what I was doing, I threw on one of the outfits in the closet—a trendy metallic shimmer dress in dark turquoise. I fought to wriggle it into place. It was strapless and skintight, with terrific support in the bust. I spent some time fiddling with front and rear coverage. When I felt comfortable, I pulled on matching knee boots, ran a heat-brush through my hair with the setting on “sleek,” and applied makeup with gusto. I didn’t know my ultimate objective—only that I felt unfocused, unsteady, and needed to go out. That attitude usually got me into trouble but I didn’t care.
I headed straight to the hotel bar. Now that it was evening, there was a good deal more activity. The music was loud, all the tables were occupied, and three bartenders were on duty. Perfect.
I found an empty stool and ordered a Venusian Blush. It was delivered promptly and set before me in a glass that glittered as if it contained diamonds. Removing the cherry, I sipped the shimmering pink liquid. Gods, it was strong and sweet enough to rot my teeth. I took a bigger sip before I put it down and considered my options.
I locked eyes with a man on the other side of the bar. The dim lighting made it difficult to see him clearly but I noted brown hair a little too long and just this side of shaggy, and possibly brown eyes. He was clean shaven, with even and regular features, and nice shoulders—well within One Gov specifications. Unfortunately, after spending time with Petriv, my view of men had become skewed in the wrong direction. A man I once considered perfectly acceptable seemed unremarkable and bland. That revelation made me even angrier.
It looked like he’d been attempting eye contact for some time because he smiled and raised his glass when I met his gaze. I returned the gesture. No doubt he’d already perused my CN-net avatar. Good luck, considering I didn’t have one—at least not in the traditional sense.
Everyone had a presence on the CN-net, some more elaborate than others depending on their t-mods’ complexity. When you wanted to hook up, your avatar contacted whomever you found interesting and exchanged information. If you liked what you saw, you could initiate physical contact—although I knew people who maintained intimate relationships through their avatars alone. Mind-fuck was the slang for it. If you didn’t like what the avatar offered, you moved on. According to Natty, this saved heaps of time when it came to dating. You knew in a nanosecond if your avatars meshed. In my case, my avatar was a non-interactive flat-file placeholder stating I existed in One Gov’s AI queenmind but little else. If a man wanted to get to know me, he had to do it the old-fashioned way—which apparently made me too complicated for some men. Fuck that stupid Russian crime lord anyway.
I took another sip of my drink, except it was empty now. Shit. When had that happened? The man got up and moved in my direction. Uh-oh. Being here was probably a mistake, yet I honestly didn’t know what else to do with myself. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin and, deep down, had a petty and vindictive need to punish Petriv—even though I knew what I did tonight wouldn’t matter to him in the least. Even if I regretted it later, I was too angry to care. I wouldn’t be the first woman in the world who slept with another man in order to forget someone else. So I turned in the stranger’s direction even though I had no interest, crossed my legs to their best advantage, and smiled.
“Hello, Felicia,” said a voice behind me, slightly accented. “I’d hoped to find you alone. I think it’s time we talked.”
I whirled in my stool so quickly, I nearly fell off. On the formerly empty stool beside me sat a willowy blonde, hair cascading over her shoulders.
Monique Vaillancourt. My mother.
Poised on the edge of her stool, she wore a lavender dress-suit that hit mid-thigh and managed to look remarkably crisp given the late hour. There were large diamond studs in her ears and an enormous emerald ring on the middle finger of her right hand. When she smiled, I caught gleaming white teeth. Her face was perfect—unlined and flawless—but her green eyes looked hardened by time and experience. I couldn’t believe this extravagantly gorgeous creature was my mother.
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same, but neither of us would reveal the whole answer,” she said in that accented voice. Portuguese, I guessed. She met the bartender’s eye and a moment later had a drink identical to what I’d downed earlier. She sipped and looked surprised. “Sweet. I wouldn’t have expected that.”
