Anew: Awakened Part 25

Pinnacle House has a full service concierge. Well, of course it does.

I pin on a smile, determined not to let him see how much his remoteness hurts me.

"Thank you, but it will be awhile before I'm over the scotch bombs, chocolate marshmallow zonkers, and all the rest."

Ian frowns. "I'm going to have a talk with Hayden."

"He's your friend," I say softly. "And he's been worried about you. So have I."

He frowns, clearly rejecting the idea that there could be any reason for our concern. Quickly, he goes on. "Just be aware that all security protocols are in place so--"

"If I try to leave, I'll be zapped?"

Frustration with how closed off and obdurate he is being sharpens my tone. I'm not entirely serious but Ian's fortress is likely to have defenses I would rather not confront.

His eyes darken. "Do you want to leave?"

I counter with a question of my own. "Is that an option? I didn't think you were giving me a choice."

He stiffens but to his credit he doesn't deny what is self-evidently true. "I'm not. Pinnacle House is the safest place by far for you to be. You'll stay here until the threat from the HPF has been eliminated."

His eyes are once again hooded and unreadable. Only his labored breathing and the heat I feel rising from his body rea.s.sure me that I am not alone in feeling the dark pull of whatever this is that exists between us.

With a hard look at me, he says, "If you try to leave before then, you will be stopped, you will be brought back and this time, I d.a.m.n well will collar you and do anything else I need to in order to keep you safe regardless of how you feel about it."

I'm still gaping at him, stunned by this blunt declaration, when he turns and without a backward glance walks away.

Chapter Twenty-five.

Amelia Ian's threat followed so swiftly by his departure leaves me shaken and bereft. For long moments, I remain where I am near the gla.s.s staircase. It's so quiet in the apartment that I can hear droplets of water falling in the terrace garden and the murmur of wind wrapping around the building.

Gradually, it dawns on me that I am more alone than I have been since I fled from the palazzo. The combination of stress and solitude threatens to let loose the terrifying memories that I first confronted then.

Rather than wait for that to happen, I decide to take Ian at his word and make myself at home.

That starts with a shower in the master bathroom. I could use one of the guest suites but the need to feel closer to him even in such a small way is irresistible. My candy binge has left me sticky but I'm also hoping that the hot water will unclench muscles that have been tense for days, ever since the polo game.

The bathroom is set apart from the master bedroom by a wall of bottle gla.s.s tiles that provides a sense of privacy. But that impression vanishes when I realize that the rest of the large s.p.a.ce has a completely unfettered view out over the city. While I don't have a problem with the occasional high-flying hawk getting a peek at me, I draw the line at aircraft, binoculars, telescopes, and the ever-present drones.

I'm entertaining the possibility that Ian may have some exhibitionist tendencies that escaped my notice when I take a closer look at the outer wall and realize that it isn't as clear as it appears at first glance. Tiny particles are scattered throughout it. I don't know for certain what they're for but I do have a suspicion.

Pressing my nose against the gla.s.s and tilting my head, I manage to peer at the expanse of the outer wall to the right of the bathroom. I should be looking into the open living s.p.a.ce but instead I can't see a thing. From the outside, the gla.s.s is a shimmering silver that is completely opaque.

Rea.s.sured that I won't be on display after all, I waste no time stripping off my clothes and getting into the shower. Water begins to spray from the dozen or more nozzles and-- OhmyG.o.d! Ian has to be out of his mind! Who sets a shower to deliver run-off from a glacier?

I leap out and stand naked, frozen, and dripping while I fumble at the control panel and reset the temperature. Steam is filling the bathroom before I feel safe enough to get back in.

The hot soothing water does just what I'd hoped. By the time I get out again, I'm thoroughly non-sticky and more relaxed than I have been in days.

Not even the HPF and its violent craziness or Ian's strange withdrawal can diminish my improved mood. I'm wrapped in a towel and fluffing my hair dry when I realize that I don't have any fresh clothes.

I can put what I was wearing back on but Ian did say to make myself at home.

Behind a sliding j.a.panese-style wall screen on the far side of the master bedroom, I find an expansive walk-in closet. In addition to a supply of the black jeans and T-shirts I know that Ian favors, it holds an array of custom suits, shirts, ties, handmade shoes, evening clothes, elegant cufflinks, expensive watches, and everything else that an alpha male/defense tech mogul would be expected to wear.

Best yet, the closet has a seductive smell--cedar paneling and polished leather mingling with the aromas of wool, cotton, and linen. I could linger there happily but I'm starting to feel a little chilly in just a towel.

I pluck a robe from its hangar and put it on. It wouldn't reach Ian's knees but it droops much lower on me. I have to wrap it around myself before tying the belt. It reminds me of the robe in the spa. I can feel myself blushing from head to toe.

Still refusing to entertain any of my myriad fears, I make my way back downstairs to the main floor and explore the kitchen. It's not lavishly stocked but there's an array of healthy snacks and a selection of beverages including various beers and wines.

I'm considering offsetting the sugar overdose with salty chips when a nearby link chimes.

"My dear child!" My grandmother looks close to tears when I answer. Her lovely face, beautiful in a way that time can never touch, is tight with dread. "Teddy just told me the terrible news. Are you all right?"

I've been grateful from the beginning for Adele's whole-hearted acceptance of a new grand-daughter into her life, one she could never have expected to encounter. She and Edward had given me an incredibly precious gift--a sense of family. But now the stark evidence of how much she truly cares for me makes me more aware than ever of how fortunate I am.

I'm suddenly perilously close to tears myself. Quickly, I a.s.sure her, "I'm fine, really. I couldn't be safer." Not physically at least, or so I have more or less convinced myself.

She touches a lace-edged hankie to her nose and nods. "It's probably for the best that you're with Ian. Pinnacle House is said to be a fortress."

That's putting it mildly but I don't want to alarm my grandmother by going into too much detail about what I've seen just in the short time I've been there. She's far too intelligent not to question why there are so many armed men who look better suited to a military installation than to a corporate headquarters in the city of the world's elite.

"Anyone foolish enough to try to get in here without permission would regret it very quickly." I refuse to ponder the fact that the same is true for anyone trying to get out.

"I'm so glad to hear that," Adele says. "Hopefully, you won't have to be there too long. Those dreadful HPF people should have been dealt with months ago. At least now the authorities will have no choice but to act."

"Why now?" I ask. "And why not before?"

"Didn't Ian tell you? The Inst.i.tute was in San Francisco on the grounds of the old Presidio military base. That area has become quite exclusive. I'm sure you can imagine what a shock it is to the residents to have such an attack occur practically under their noses."

Of course Ian didn't tell me. Why should he when clearly his a.s.sumption is that I am going to be where he wants me to be and do what he wants me to do regardless of any doubts, questions, or ideas of my own that I may possess?

Infuriating man.

"They must be outraged." I can only imagine how the pampered elite of Manhattan would react to such an incursion into their own privileged world. They'd be screaming for blood.

"But why didn't the authorities do anything sooner?" I ask. "From what I found on the link, the HPF have carried out numerous attacks. They killed almost a dozen people before today and injured many more."

"Politics, my dear," Adele says with disgust. "Public opinion has moved so sharply against the existence of clones and replicas that taking any action to defend them is seen as too risky."

She pauses for a moment. "Teddy thinks someone is stirring things up. He says all the signs are there--stories planted, incidents staged, opinion makers bought and paid for. The problem is no one knows who's behind it."

This is food for thought. I haven't considered the possibility that public opinion is being manipulated.

"Couldn't the HPF itself be responsible?" I ask.

"Certainly, but nothing happens without money. The question is where is that coming from?"

I see her point. For the HPF to carry out the attacks that it has, and to also mount an effective effort to shape public opinion, it would have to be very well funded. I wonder who hates the idea of clones and replicas enough to provide that level of support.

"At any rate," Adele goes on, "you're safe and that's what matters. As much as I would love to visit, I don't want to risk drawing attention to your whereabouts. However, I can send over clothes and anything else you'd like."

My grandmother has a somewhat different idea than I do about what I need. Before long, I give up trying to persuade her and decide to just wait and see what she considers necessary for a stay at a 21st century fortress ruled over by a presumptuous, all-too seductive man who, however much I may try to resist him, keeps drawing me as the proverbial moth to the flame.

"We're letting it be known that you are indisposed," Adele says. "Nothing terribly serious, of course, but enough to explain your absence from social events. However, we must be realistic. If this goes on very long, people will notice."

The last thing I want is anyone asking prying questions. "How much time do you think we have?" I ask.

"The Crystal Ball is in ten days," she says promptly, indicating that she has been giving this some thought. "Everyone will be there. Your absence would draw attention and invite speculation about Cousin Amelia that we definitely do not want."

I'm pondering that after we say 'goodbye' and at the same time feeling very much at loose ends in the huge, otherwise empty s.p.a.ce when the door chime announces Hodgkin's arrival.

As though it's the most natural thing in the world to find me in Ian's apartment wrapped in his robe, the tall, dour-faced steward says, "Good afternoon, Miss Amelia. My apologies for not being here to welcome you. I've only just arrived from the palazzo. I took the liberty of bringing a few items from your dressing room that I thought you might find useful."

I smile gratefully. Whatever Adele is sending, I trust Hodgkin to have chosen well. He doesn't disappoint. A short while later, I'm dressed in a fawn twill skirt, a soft beige chambray shirt tucked in to a wide brown leather belt, and coordinated strappy sandals with mercifully low heels. I pull my hair back in a high pony tail and glance in the mirror. I look far more together than I feel.

Returning to the main floor, I'm surprised to find a tall, statuesque woman with cocoa brown skin and gleaming black hair waiting for me. Her hazel eyes hold the hard sheen of flint as she stares down her nose at me.

With a bare minimum of civility, she says, "Good afternoon, Miss McClellan. I'm Gabriella Darque. I work for Mr. Slade. He asked me to show you around."

She's clearly less than thrilled that I've been delegated to her. I'm not too happy about it myself.

"Thank you, but that isn't necessary. I can wait until Ian is free."

She goes on as though I haven't spoken. "Mr. Slade wants you to be familiar with the facilities that are available for your use. Please come with me."

I can refuse, in which case I will look more than a little childish. Or I can be a good little girl and do as I'm told. Neither option has any appeal so I choose the one that will at least satisfy my curiosity.

"By all means, Miss Darque. What Mr. Slade wants, Mr. Slade gets."

She frowns but doesn't say anything more until we're in the elevator when she hands me a thin, highly polished metal wristband similar to one I notice she is wearing. Now that I think of it, so was Hodge.

"Put this on," she says. "It's coded to your identification and will give you access to the areas of the building that you're cleared to enter."

"What would those be?" I ask. The band looks like a bracelet. I quickly confirm that I can remove it as easily as it snaps on.

"The penthouse, recreational areas, fitness centers, pools, and so on. Medical, if that's ever necessary. The mall--"

"There's a mall here?"

Gabriella Darque appears surprised at my ignorance. "More than twenty thousand people work at Pinnacle House, Miss McClellan. Most also live here along with their families. Residential levels are interspersed with recreational and entertainment areas, food courts, shopping pavilions, nature centers, hydroponic gardens, and so on. Separate nodes contain operational areas, training facilities, armories, and research and development labs."

We step off the elevator and straight into a horde of children who tear past whooping and hollering. As I stare after them open-mouthed, she says drily, "School just let out."

We're in one of the recreational areas, built around an atrium that rises several hundred feet to a virtual sky. Full spectrum light streams from it, brightly illuminating the s.p.a.ce. A soft breeze riffles the leaves of trees and bushes scattered throughout. Nearby is a large free-form playground complete with climbing walls and trampolines built in to the floor.

Couples and families stroll by. No one is dressed in the drab, monochromatic style of workers in the city. To the contrary, bright colors abound. The only exceptions are those wearing the black uniforms I've seen before and even they are obviously relaxed and off duty.

I struggle to understand what I'm seeing and what it means. Pinnacle House is far more than the headquarters of a defense technology company. It's a vibrant, thriving community that rejects the cla.s.s divisions so prevalent in the city as a whole. And that makes me wonder. Why did Ian choose to put his people directly in the midst of an enclave designed to serve the privileged few?

Thousands of his people living without the restrictions that other workers in the city face. With their own residences, schools, recreational areas, food supplies, even their own armories and what amounts to a private military force.

"Ian must be a thorn in the side of some people," I murmur. Certainly those among the power elite who are intent on running the world strictly for their own benefit aren't likely to appreciate his far more egalitarian approach.

Gabriella Darque stops in mid-stride and shoots me an a.s.sessing look. "Figured that out, did you? Is it possible that you're not just...ornamental?"

I grimace. "Please don't say he called me that."

She grins reluctantly. "No, he didn't, I just a.s.sumed it. But I should have figured that he'd get bored with anyone who didn't have a brain." Her brow furrows. "Instead, he brings you here and pulls out all the stops to make sure that you're taken care of."

She looks me over again and says sternly, "Since you're not a dumb little fluff bunny after all, there's something I want to know. What the h.e.l.l are you doing distracting him? He needs to be focused right now. Lives will depend on that soon, including his."

I stare at her in confusion that turns all too quickly to dismay. Suddenly, the scene I witnessed in the garage when we arrived--armed men in uniforms moving purposefully, preparing--takes on an all-too ominous meaning.

Has Ian decided not to wait for the authorities to deal with the HPF, as Adele believes that they will? Is he going after them himself?

I have a sinking feeling that I already know the answer and with it comes a heavy sense of dread. Too clearly, I remember how he was on the polo field, consumed by reckless aggressiveness, without regard for his own safety or the safety of others.

My chest tightens at the possibility that he will be putting himself in danger for my sake while in such a state. If he does, I have to a.s.sume that he won't be alone. At least some of the people I see around me, those in the black uniforms and perhaps others also relaxing with their families, will soon be in harm's way because of me.

I hesitate, trying to decide how to respond. Ian isn't likely to have told anyone who--what--I really am or why he brought me to Pinnacle House. That being the case, I can't reveal what I suspect is about to happen. All I can do is express some measure of my regret. And my fear.

"Please believe me, Miss Darque. The last thing I would ever want to do is cause any kind of problem for Ian." My voice cracks. "I told him it would be better if I wasn't here but he wouldn't listen."

And now it's too late. Pinnacle House is a fortress. No one gets in--or out--without its master's permission.

She considers that--and me--for a moment before she nods. "Call me Gab. You're looking a little pale. What do you say we skip the rest of the tour and grab a cup of coffee? h.e.l.l, I'll even throw in a gooey pastry."

My stomach lurches. "Just the coffee would be fine. I'm off sugar for awhile."

"Oh, yeah? How come?"

I find myself telling her about Hayden as we walk to a nearby coffee shop and order drinks.

"Scotch bombs are the bomb, girl," she says, laughing. "You gotta watch those things. The only safe way to eat them is washed down with plenty of beer."

"I'll have to remember that," I say as we find a table out in front, well enough apart from anyone else that we won't be overheard.

The soy-something-something latte that I order turns out to be not bad. I sip it slowly and study my surroundings.