“Why? It doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean if the program is going to run under my terms, what difference does it make whether it takes place in Region One or in Tasma?”
“Right, that’s exactly my point, so why not do it where you’ll be close to me?” He licked his lips and squeezed my hand until my egg ring dug into the inside of my finger.
“Ouch,” I said and pulled my hand away. “I need time to think about this.”
Harrington licked his lips again and I quickly lifted my water glass to my mouth and took a drink.
He stood and smoothed the front of his shirt with his hand and returned to his seat. His forehead was moist with sweat, and a strand of loose hair hung to meet his eyebrows. “What do you think of the champagne? Tasma’s the only place where you can get the real stuff.”
“You mean this isn’t artificial?” I asked, holding it to the light. Good thing I wasn’t a fan of champagne. That son of a clone wanted to make me vulnerable and more likely to say “yes” by trying to give me an unwanted buzz.
“You look flushed. Are you okay, Cass?”
Don’t call me Cass. The only person who ever called me Cass and was ever allowed to call me Cass was Travel, the guy they cloned from my long-dead boyfriend’s DNA so I’d be more pliable to their schemes.
Harrington reached forward and traced the curve of my cheek and jaw, and I closed my eyes, pretending to savor his delicate touch so I could keep the peace. “I’m fine, it’s just—”
“You know, most women find me very attractive.” His fingers slipped away from me.
“And I don’t doubt that,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t gag on my words. Another poor little male clone, fertile like most of the males on Earth, but with no way to pass on his DNA. Unless he found a way to impregnate me.
“Please, come back to Region One with me,” he said, smiling with eyes glazed from the champagne.
As willowy a figure as he was, he out-weighed me by at least seventy-five pounds, and the more he looked at me, the more his smile shifted into something threatening as his upper lip rose to reveal most of his teeth.
My refusal needed to come delicately. I stood and stepped toward Harrington’s side of the table. He leaned back in his chair, and his chest rose as he shifted his weight in his seat. Placing my hand on his thigh, I knelt before him.
“I’m sorry, Donovan, but I’m staying in Tasma. It’s the only place where I can feel free like I did when—”
“You’re so beautiful, Cassie. And so desirable. The soft, gentle curves of your body are what I want to touch.” Harrington shot from his chair once again, set his hands against my back, and drew me against him, his lips and body feverishly pressing against mine.
“Donovan, stop! Please!” I said as I turned my head away from his lips. My body shook and my muscles tightened as I squirmed to get away. “Not here. Not now.” Not ever, but I had to say what I could to stop him. “Victoria’s in the next room. Come visit me again here on Tasma once I’m settled.”
“What?”
“You can do that, right?” I pushed away from under him and backed toward the wall. “We can get to know each other better then.” Like hell we would. I’d ban him from the island.
Harrington flexed his slender frame. He came toward me. My heart pounded in my throat, and I clenched my hands into fists. Placing a palm on the wall on either side of me, he leaned forward and I ducked under his arm, dashing through the open door and into my room. “Once the treaty is signed and I’m settled,” I said. “I promise.”
And just as I closed and locked the door, Harrington shouted, “Yes, and then you will be mine.”
My heart beat hard, and I sucked in a deep breath of relief.
Chapter Three
“Are you ready to go?” asked Michael.
“Hug me,” I said, throwing myself at him when he came into my room. Like me, he’d just showered and changed into fresh clothes. The smell of soap filled my nose as my cheek pressed against his collar. Safe. I felt safe in his arms.
He brought his arms around my back and kissed the top of my head. “What’s wrong?”
We sat down on my bed and I told him everything, including Harrington coming on to me. My hands shook the whole time, my stomach grew sick, and I couldn’t stop wiping my lips with the sleeve of my tunic.
Michael slammed his fist against the wall.
“You can’t say anything to him,” I told him, even though I didn’t expect he would. “You can’t even act like you know what happened.”
“I know I can’t. If I did, Harrington probably wouldn’t sign the treaty. We can’t do anything to jeopardize that. We need all three of the presidents’ signatures.”
“And we can’t tell Shen-Lung about Harrington’s proposal, either. That would just piss Harrington off.”
He glared. “I hate it, but I agree. Once Harrington signs the treaty and the presidents leave Tasma, it won’t matter anyway.”
“So we won’t say anything unless Harrington changes his mind and refuses to sign the treaty.”
“And the bastard gave you perfume?”
“Yup, but it’s still in his room. I forgot to take it when I left.” I flopped back onto the bed.
“Good,” he said, and he lay back to join me.
His chest expanded, and he exhaled out his nose. Damn, he was hot. Like I’d told him once before—GQ model-hot, with his tall, muscular build. With a perfectly angled nose, strong jaw, and high cheek bones, he was the epitome of a perfect male. I closed my eyes and remembered the first time my fingers trailed down his broad chest to meet well-defined abs rippled with hard muscle. Yeah, part of me was still angry at all he’d kept from me, but he was willing to die to save me.
To save Victoria. He’d grown up so much and I found myself wanting to forgive him. To recall how much I’d liked him when we’d first met. I rolled on top of him and kissed him, starting at his neck and working my way to his lips as his mouth found places against my throat and under my ear.
He turned me onto my back and anchored me to the bed with his knees on either side of my thighs. His kisses came hard, and I arched my back against his weight.
“Victoria,” I said when I heard a small cry. “She’s awake and probably hungry.”
“And it’s about time to go,” said Michael. He rotated his body from mine and I popped up to get my sweet girl.
“You look beautiful,” said Michael as we left my room.
Before we had left for Tasma, Shen-Lung insisted that Michael and I take advantage of the project’s unlimited budget and place an order. For the reception I bought a pair of leggings, a scooped-necked tunic, and a pair of black, low-top boots. My outfit was a bit sexy, but it was still suitable for a daytime event. The minute I’d seen this ensemble on my Liaison, I knew I had to have it, especially since I hadn’t owned or worn a pair of boots since the twenty-first century. They were something Ella, my friend and former physical therapist, would wear. Any reminder of her was welcomed.
Three additional guards, one of whom I hadn’t seen before, were at the end of the hall as we made our way into the governor’s ballroom. With the build of an Olympic weightlifter, the new bodyguard’s upper arms were practically as large as my waist. He kept his hands behind his back with his arms cocked at the elbow. As we passed him, his body remained still, but his eyes shifted downward to gaze at Victoria in her stroller.
“Who’s that?” I whispered to Mia when he joined the tail end of our entourage. “He wasn’t on our flight,” I added.
“That is Officer Toby. He arrived with President Harrington,” she said. What the hell with all of the security? Between clones and bots, there was enough security for ten presidents. My nerves fired in my stomach, giving me an uncomfortable feeling of being hungry, even though I wasn’t sure I could eat a bite of anything.
Prime Minister Heath met us at the ballroom’s entrance. “Again, this is such an honor, Miss Dannacher, Dr. Bennett, and to have all three presidents he
re as well.”
He nodded in the directions of the three presidents, who stood next to a large table, and directed Michael and me toward them. Victoria started to cry, but stopped when I lifted her from the stroller and brought her to my chest.
The grand ballroom had high-chandeliered ceilings, a black and white checkered marble floor, and thick, tapestry curtains that were drawn to let in the sun. Light music reminiscent of Bach drifted through the room from hidden speakers, and as members of the wait staff passed with trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne, I felt like I’d just entered a Jane Austin novel.
I’d never seen President Tupolev before in real life. He was a broad-shouldered man, younger than I imaged, with strawberry-blond hair and a mustache to match. He stood to Shen-Lung’s right and Harrington was to his left. Harrington was the tallest of the three, but his presence in the room did not produce the same kind of aura as the other two, whose bearings exuded royal dignity and honor. Harrington’s wry smile put goose bumps on my arms.
When I heard Michael take a deep breath and saw him draw his lips into his mouth, I gave his shoulder a light bump with mine, a reminder to keep his cool when it came to Harrington.
“It has been a deep honor and a privilege,” Shen-Lung said, bending at the waist. “The signing and validation of this contract between Tasma and the regions is as monumental as the post-plague constitution signed by our forefathers over six hundred years ago. This contract will promise the people continued growth of the population through natural means. Miss Dannacher, Dr. Bennett, you are the forefathers of the thirty-first century.”
Despite my mistrust toward the presidents, with Shen-Lung’s last words my heart sped and my eyes brimmed with tears.
“And so is everyone else involved in this treaty,” Harrington was quick to add. “But of course, you are the star,” he said to me, holding out his hand. I gave it a light shake while swallowing a shudder.
Michael shook his hand so hard and jerked away with such force that Shen-Lung and Tupolev lifted their eyebrows. But Harrington remained smug, regarding Michael the whole time with one side of his mouth lifted into a smile.
“Miss Dannacher,” said Tupolev. He placed his hands on my upper arms and leaned toward me, kissing me three times, alternating back and forth from one of my cheeks to the other in traditional Eastern European fashion. Michael settled for a handshake.
Shen-Lung shifted to one side and motioned toward a cart that was positioned behind the three of them. He pushed it forward, stopping in front of me. From the cart he lifted a small present tied with a gold ribbon and wrapped in shiny, red paper. Two additional gifts remained, one wrapped in light blue and the other wrapped in the same pink paper Harrington used for my “private” gift.
The first two gifts were amazing and extremely valuable—an ancient dragon pendant from Shen-Lung and a Faberge egg, courtesy of Trupolev. Harrington’s gift made me gasp and swallow the lump that immediately rose in my throat.
It was Claus in all his naked glory in a glass case or his “house” as Dr. Little liked to call it. “A gift not only from me but from the staff at GenH1.”
“You mean Dr. Little at GenH1.”
My bottom lip trembled and a trail of tears came next, a product of anger instead of gratitude. But it wasn’t Claus’s fault that while in the hands of Dr. Little, the man who’d overseen my involuntary fertilizations and Victoria’s kidnapping, the statue had been used as a tool to taunt me. Six thousand years older than the Faberge egg, Claus was an ancient fertility idol known as the Man of Zschernitz, an archeological treasure and something I should be proud to own.
“I was told it would please you,” said Harrington. His thin lips curved into a smile, and the same sick feeling I had when he got too close to me churned in my stomach.
The presidents took turns smiling at Victoria, each offering a finger for her to hold so they could shake her tiny hand. When Harrington touched her, I held my breath and my arms prickled all over again, and Michael’s demeanor visibly changed from one of ease to apprehension. Mia and Toby remained behind us, standing at attention, and when I noticed Mia rapping her fingers against a bulge in her pants pocket, the confidence I’d built from Shen-Lung’s and Tupolev’s generous gift-giving began to melt.
Shen-Lung peered into Victoria’s blue eyes. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with one small step, and you are that small step, Miss Victoria.”
His eyes gleamed as he smiled, but his fortune-cookie wisdom did little to set me at ease, even after he took one of my hands in both of his and bowed again, deeper this time as his eyes rimmed with tears. Harrington stared at me with his disturbing smile, and the Region’s security team doubled as more members joined the circle of sharks.
Yeah, I’d believe in this “journey of a thousand miles,” once it happened.
Harrington gave me another handshake that turned into a partial hug as he drew me closer. When he pulled away he pressed something cold and hard against my palm.
“You forgot this,” he whispered.
It was the tiny bottle of perfume. I slipped it into my pocket, knowing I’d never use it.
“Prime Minister Heath,” I said as he passed, “what about the treaty? When will that be signed? I thought it was going to happen now.”
“And that it will.” He pointed to an unlit stage at the far end of the ballroom. A podium stood upon it adorned with ribbons reminiscent of Autonomy’s national flag and the three colors of the regions—black, red, and blue.
“How about a mimosa, Miss Dannacher?” asked Heath when a server approached with a tray of champagne glasses. “The drinking age in Autonomy is twenty-one, but we can make an exception for an event as important as this. Our alcohol is real. No artificial alcohol in our piece of the world.”
“No alcohol,” said Mia. Her posture, her facial expressions, and the tone of her voice were as stiff and unwavering as her bun, which was as smooth and shiny as a chocolate-glazed donut. “Miss Dannacher, my job is to protect you from harm. Real alcohol is dangerous, even to a non-clone. Therefore, it is my job to protect you from it.”
Yeah, where was she when Harrington poured me real champagne? But as Mia challenged me, her eyes growing into slits, I desired to test my new power on Tasma.
“Alcohol is only dangerous if it’s abused. One mimosa won’t hurt me,” I said as I snatched a glass from the tray and took a drink. Exercising my defiance felt good, and the orange juice made the dry champagne sweet.
“Miss Dannacher, a bite to eat, shall we?” Prime Minister Heath gestured to the buffet table.
Michael was already at the other end of the buffet table, drinking a mimosa and chatting, and as Heath and I approached the other end of the table I could hear the clunk of Mia’s boots ringing on the marble floor behind me. A waiter swooped by with a tray of hors d’oeuvres—barbequed shrimp on tiny skewers.
“So, Prime Minister Heath, I’m curious,” I said as I took a skewer. “The survivors of the plague renamed their country Autonomy, but isn’t that just wishful thinking? I mean, even though Autonomy lives by their own constitution, they’ve been dependent on Region Three for clone babies from the very beginning. Without Region Three, none of you would be here.”
He set a scone on his plate. “True, but once clones are no longer needed to stabilize the earth’s populations, additional trade agreements can take place between Autonomy and the mainland.”
Heath was as disillusioned as the average clone, digging his fingers into shreds of feasible hope and holding on to it for dear life. Autonomy may have been the only existing democracy, but they were far from total independence.
“Were you surprised when President Lung asked Autonomy to host the Van Winkle Project?”
“To be honest, I nearly fell out of my seat.” He chuckled.
“Because you were surprised the presidents would trust you to run the project?”
“No, because, you, Miss Dannacher, made the request,” he said smiling wide enough
to show all of his teeth. “Unlike the three regions, Autonomy does have an army, but we’re limited when it comes to our defense capabilities—the regions made sure of that through our lack of contact and resources provided by them.” His smile disappeared.
“So even though Victoria and I have been delivered here as promised, you still have your doubts when it comes to the presidents’ intentions?”
Heath frowned at Mia, who was suddenly closer to me than she was the minute before. “This is not something to be discussed on a day when there is a reason to celebrate. Let me just say one last thing on this topic. Over the years, I’ve learned one thing: the only person you can completely trust is yourself.” He winked, and I took a big sip of my mimosa in clear view of Mia.
“Then you and I have much in common, Prime Minister, for I’ve learned the same thing. You said you were surprised that I chose Autonomy to raise my children and continue the project, but that shouldn’t surprise you at all. I’m a citizen of democracy and capitalism. Like you, I don’t believe we need bots, flying cars, or bands on our wrists to maintain a prosperous, civilized nation.”
Michael caught my eye and waved me over to join them. He looked cool in his dark pants and white tunic. The sun entering the large windows at the east side of the room lit the blue of Michael’s eyes and when he smiled, his teeth gleamed in contrast to his tanned skin.
“Excuse me, Prime Minister,” I said, wheeling Victoria in Michael’s direction and smiling as I looked down at my choice of clothing. I finally had my figure back; I might as well show it off occasionally, and now was the perfect time.
“Cassie, this is Dolly Yardly. Dolly, Cassie.” Michael introduced me to a blond woman standing next to him. “She assisted me when I was here taking DNA samples. She’s Autonomy’s expert when it comes to genetics, and also the team lead. Now she’ll be playing an integral role in the Van Winkle Project with us.”
“Oh, and look at this little miracle,” said Dolly. She sank to one knee and stroked the top of Victoria’s plump, little hand with her index finger. “Who’s her father?” she asked as she stood. “It’s been a while since I’ve read the report.”
Ascendancy Page 4
