his eyes.
A digital screen chimed. "Sangori appointment in twenty minutes, Red Conference Room."
Ven stood up, went to the door, and paused by Renata's desk. "Take her off routine processing."
"For how long?" Renata asked.
"Until further notice." Ven started down the hallway and turned, walking backward. "Come on."
Claire pointed at herself. "Me?"
"Who else?"
She caught up with him. "Where are we going?"
"To my Sangori appointment. I may need another point of view."
She hid a grin and followed him into the elevator.
Chapter Four
Claire strode down the hallway, her heels clicking lightly on the transparent floor, her tablet in her hand. She wore a pale green dress that set off her hair and her new tan. The day was winding down, and the week with it.
The hallway brought her to thirty-three twelve, a wide room nicknamed the Wheel. The Wheel consisted of a round common area from which a dozen office rooms branched in a circle. From above it looked like a flower with a circular middle and elongated petals.
People emerged from the offices at her approach. Hands held out pseudopapers and data strips. She was a link to Ven and everyone wanted to get their bit in before the Friday rolled to a close.
"Earnings projections for the next twin-week!"
"What do you want me to do about the Vinogradov case?" Marto asked.
"He will look at it this afternoon," she replied.
"What about Hawk Corp.?" Liana asked.
"Monday." Claire smiled.
"Here's the Bodia summary."
When she made it to the lift, her hands were full. No matter how well Venturo treated his employees and how ethical he was in keeping his mind to himself, the non-psychers never could get rid of a nagging suspicion that he might be scanning their thoughts. She'd been on the receiving end of these suspicions before: people who went out of their way to avoid her, never discourteous but always cautious. It made her isolated. Psychers stuck together, because the rest of the world was rarely welcoming.
Claire turned and watched the sun shine through the solar panels as the elevator moved upward. In the month she had spent as Venturo's assistant, she had managed to become an indispensable link between him and the support staff. They saw her as safe, a buffer between them and Venturo's lethal brain. It was at once so much more than she thought she would achieve and so much less than she was capable of.
The doors whispered open, and she exited the elevator, heading for Venturo's office. It was Friday. The weekend was just around the corner.
Having two days off after a lifetime of weekends consisting of half-days on Sunday seemed like a decadent luxury. The first three weekends she slept, tried take-out from the neighboring restaurants, and watched broadcasts, soaking up information about the Province of Dahlia like a sponge. She'd finally decided she had enough understanding of the customs and planned to venture to the Terraces this weekend.
She saw him through the translucent door at the end of the hallway: he stood by his desk, his wide back to her, talking to a digital screen, the line of his shoulders tense. Something unpleasant.
Things with Venturo had become progressively more complicated. She no longer stared in stunned silence when she saw him, but as they worked together, the facets of his personality became apparent. Venturo had a fierce intellect and a relentless drive to succeed, knitted together by a kind of arrogance evolved from understanding your own power.
Venturo had definite ideas about how things had to be and he held himself to these strict standards. In the month she had acted as his personal aide, she had seen him furious over a stupid mistake an employee had made, yet when the same employee meekly came to the slaughter, Venturo treated him with tact and flawless politeness. On two occasions, Ven ran around the building, trying to hide from his aunt and an invitation to some family function, until Lienne lost her patience and turned her mind into a glowing beacon of light, mind-scanning the place for him, but in their interactions he would be respectful to her without fail.
It was this control that drew her in. The more she learned about him, the more she was drawn to him. That and the small, seemingly insignificant things he did for her. He opened the door for her. She had discovered that the drink machine in the Wheel dispensed tea in thirty different flavors, and after a hard day of work, when Ven would make his evening pilgrimage to get himself