Part 25 (1/2)
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 s.h.i.+mmering 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-s.h.i.+rts I know that Ian favors, it holds an array of custom suits, s.h.i.+rts, 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 blus.h.i.+ng 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.