Programmed To Please (The Tau Cetus Chronicles) (14 page)

Ironic that he could face a powerful and dangerous man like Theus without breaking a sweat, but he was a nervous wreck about meeting his own sister.

Bursus pulled their transport into an underground garage and parked. After a quick check of the immediate surroundings, Bursus opened the car door for Marque, and the two men headed for the private penthouse elevator. The dedicated lift worked only with a personal key, so Bursus put in another call to the bodyguards upstairs.

“We’re here.”

 Then the two men stepped inside the elevator, and were whisked thirty stories to the top floor. As the doors opened, Marque was glad to see one burly man blocking the elevator’s exit, and another two men guarding the door to Leora’s apartment.

His sister was obviously well protected.

After a quick once-over, the first man stepped back to let Marque and Bursus off the lift. Marque stepped into a small hallway lined with a lush green carpet and rich, gold-toned walls. He looked around. Two wrought iron scrollwork sconces flanked the penthouse apartment’s front door. A matching knocker decorated the door. Everything he saw spoke of style and sophistication.

Leora had moved here three years ago. Marque had known about the move, of course, and even approved of it – an apartment with one entrance was easier for bodyguards to defend than a house – but he’d never been here himself.

Marque cleared his throat. “She in?”

It was an idiotic question. Of course she was in. The bodyguards wouldn’t be here otherwise.

The man in black who’d blocked the elevator exit nodded politely. He obviously knew Marque was the man paying his salary. “Yes, sir.”

He put his hand on the apartment’s door knob, twisted it, and pushed. The door swung inward, which surprised Marque. The front door was left unlocked? What kind of security was that? But then he figured that anyone who could get past three burly armed bodyguards would have no trouble with one insignificant locked door. He sighed in resignation and frustration. What a life the Callexes lived!

The head bodyguard waved a hand for Marque to enter. “She has an appointment with an interior decorator at three.”

Marque nodded. Was that good or bad? He glanced at his watch. It was almost two o’clock now. If things weren’t going well, the appointment would be a handy excuse for Leora to cut short this visit. And Marque desperately needed to talk to her.

He took a determined step inside the apartment, his eyes widening at what he saw.

Gleaming white marble floors stretched across a huge reception room. Twelve-foot-tall floor-to-ceiling windows – draped with maroon-colored brocade curtains pulled back with thick gold tassels – revealed a spectacular panoramic view of the city below. Three crystal chandeliers of various designs hung from the ceiling over grouped seating areas of green velvet couches and chaise lounges. Artwork on the walls might very well be originals, painted by old masters. The place looked like the inside of some historical castle or chateau, but for all its rich opulence, the space seemed cold. Barren. Lifeless.

“Leora?”

The heels of Marque’s shoes echoed as he took three more steps into the empty, cavernous room, trying to decide in which direction he should head to try and find his sister. There were six closed doors to choose from. Hell, given the enormity of this one room, it could take an hour just to locate her in the massive apartment.

“Leora!”

He paused, waiting.

Nothing.

Christ. He should just pick a door. Any door.
No.
Be systematic about it.
He turned and headed to the right.

The small squeak of a hinge stopped him in his tracks and drew his gaze toward the far left door.

“Chavis? What are you doing home?”

As he watched his sister enter the room, Marque couldn’t say which one of them was the more shocked. Leora, who had no idea he was coming today, or Marque himself, who stood staring at a woman who looked at least a decade older than her twenty-eight years.

Leora’s face was hard, pinched. She was thin as a rail, and even her designer clothes couldn’t flatter a figure so emaciated. On her left hand was the biggest diamond Marque had ever seen, and he immediately wondered if the sale of three wasp missiles had helped to pay for it.

The expression on Leora’s face went from utter surprise to a fleeting longing to outright hatred. Each emotion hit Marque like a sledgehammer of guilt.

“Leora.”
Even to his own ears, her name sounded like a quiet plea.

She blinked rapidly. Odd, Marque didn’t remember that as being one of her habits. Playing with her long black hair, yes, but not this rapid blinking.

She turned her back on him for a brief moment, but an instant later she swung back around, her chin in the air. “Is that you, Marque?”

He frowned. “Of course it’s me.”

She didn’t even pause. “What are you doing here?”

No
how are you, or nice to see you, not even a why the fuck has it been so long since you’ve visited me.
No, none of those. Just a peremptory what are you doing here.

Have patience, Marque…

He looked around the room. “Is there a place we can sit?” 

There were any
number
of places they could sit, but he waited patiently as an obviously grudging Leora led the way toward a sofa in the farthest corner of the room.

No. That wouldn’t do. Marque didn’t want so much space between them during the intimate discussion he was planning. Half-way across the room, he motioned to a small round table with two filigree chairs. “How about here? You remember my bad back, right? It’s better for me if I sit in a firm chair.”

Frankly, he hadn’t been troubled by his back in at least five years, but he hoped his words would bring up old memories. Memories of a time after the Great War, when it was just the two of them, Marque and Leora, against the world.

But his words seemed lost on her. She shrugged indifferently. “If you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”

She pulled out one of the lattice-backed chairs and plopped into it, leaving him to settle himself in the other one. But at least they were facing each other across the short distance of the table.

Now that the moment of truth was here, Marque had another attack of nerves. He threw a quick glance around the large room. “Very elegant.”

The pinched frown between Leora’s brows deepened, and she waved a careless hand. “I’m redoing the whole room. The decorator will be here in an hour. So let’s get right to the point of your little visit, shall we?”

Okay. So no small talk, either. No chance of catching up on their lives over the last nine plus years. Marque took a breath and looked her in the eye. “How are you, Leora?”

She made a small sound, almost a snort. “As if you care.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I care.”

She shrugged again, indifferent to his answer. Marque could see that if he was going to get anywhere with her, provoking her was probably the only way to do it.

“Tell me. Are you happy, Leora?”

Her jaw fell open slightly at the question, and her face colored to a very unhealthy shade of red. Marque thought he was prepared for anything that might come out of her mouth, but suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.

“Happy?
” she shouted. “Are you seriously asking me if I’m happy?
You fuck!
I lost my parents in a catastrophic world war, and then a dozen years later, I lost my only brother – the same brother who
swore
to me that I could always depend on him – to the very violence that took my mother and father.”

“Leora—”

 “No, wait a minute, I’m wrong,” she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re not even in the same category. They were
victims
of violence, while you’re a fucking
promoter
of violence.”

“I’m— ”

“You’re Tau Cetus’s most notorious arms dealer
.” Her voice was getting shriller by the second. “And because of that, I have no life. I can’t do anything without bodyguards shadowing my every move, and all because I’m related to
you.
I have no friends. I have no family. I
hate
you. I hate you
so much
for what you’ve done to me. I hate you for what you’ve
become
. But even more than that…” She paused as she finally ran out of breath, but Marque could clearly see her eyes tearing up at that point. “I hate you for being a liar. For betraying me. For abandoning me.”

Christ.
What a mountain of sins he was guilty of by her calculation! If there had been a sword nearby, Marque would have gladly fallen on it. J was right. He’d been a horrible brother.

“Leora—”

“Don’t you talk to me, you
shit!
” She leaned forward and promptly slapped him hard across the face.

Marque blinked in surprise, but welcomed the stinging in his cheek. At least it meant she still felt something for him. Even if it was hatred.

“Leora.” He grabbed the hand that had just struck him and held it tightly between his own two, even though she tried to pull it away. “You’re absolutely right. I’m a shit. The world’s worst brother. But you have to believe me when I say that I
never
abandoned you. I honestly felt that by staying away, your life would be safer. I love you too much to see you put at risk. That’s the reason for the bodyguards.
Because I love you.”

“You’re a lying bastard. The bodyguards are here only because of who you are.”

 “Yes. That’s right. They’re here because of who I am. But about that…” He squeezed her hand. “I have confession to make. Something I should have told you almost ten years ago.”

“I don’t want to know anything about you
or
your despicable life!”

“That’s just the thing,” he said insistently. “It’s
not
despicable. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

Leora stopped trying to tug her hand out of Marque’s firm grip. Her eyes were still glittery with unshed tears, but at least he had her attention. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Marque paused. His sister had become a bitter woman. In the space of three minutes, she’d call him a fuck, a shit and a bastard. Would she ever again lovingly call him
brother?

“Lee Lee.”

Leora gasped. The childhood nickname caught her off guard and made her flinch, but Marque had purposely used it so that she’d know that what he was about to tell her was the truth.

“Lee Lee, listen to me. My company, Callex Industries, is a front for the government. I actually work for the High Council.”

Leora stared at him. “What?”

“It’s true. I do sell weapons, but only where the High Council instructs me to, in order to maintain the delicate balance of power on Tau Cetus. The world thinks I’m a rogue arms dealer, but in reality, I’m helping to keep the peace. I answer directly to the premier, Theus.”

Leora’s eyes widened as she tried to take all this in.

Marque squeezed her hand. “
Nobody
knows this, Lee Lee. Nobody except a handful of trusted people. And now you’re one of them. I’m entrusting you with this because I can’t bear for you to hate me. I’m not the shit you think I am. I’m actually trying to prevent a war from ever happening again.”

Leora blinked rapidly, as she’d done when Marque had first seen her come into the room. Only now did he realize that she’d been fighting tears even then. Damn, he really was a shitty brother. How had things gotten so strained between them?

Leora let her tears fall freely now. In fact, she wept so hard that Marque stood up from the table, pulled out her chair, and took her in his arms. He hugged her so tightly that he could feel his shirt getting wet, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was showing her how much he’d missed her. How much he loved her. How sorry he was for everything.

After a minute, he guided her to a nearby couch. Christ, with his arm around her shoulders he could actually feel her bones right through her clothes. What did she weigh? A hundred pounds, max?

He’d have to speak to her about that. Among other things. Including one very important thing.

They sat side by side, and Marque kept his arm around her until she finally quieted. When she eventually looked up at him, there were black circles of mascara under her eyes.

“Can I get you a tissue?” Marque offered.

“Over there,” she sniffed, pointing to a side table. “Grab the box. I have a feeling I’m going to need more than one.”

That simple,
civil
sentence did more to assure Marque that things would be all right between them than almost anything she could have said. The constriction around his heart eased a bit.

He grabbed the box and sat back down. “You’re kinda looking like a Tyhrennian monkey right now,” he teased quietly.

She punched him in the arm, then took a tissue from the box and dabbed under her eyes. A moment later she let out a big sigh. “Is it true? What you just told me… is it really true?”

“Yes, it’s true. I swear it.”

She crumpled the tissue in her hand. “You know, I used to dream about this.”

Marque raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About you telling me it had all been a mistake.” She waved a hand to encompass the room. “I would wake up some mornings thinking this was just a bad dream, that I would see you and everything would be all right.” She frowned. “And then I’d see the guards instead. I hated you
so much
.”

“I’m sorry, Lee Lee. You’re still a prisoner because of me, but I should have told you the truth from the start.”

“Yes, you should have. But seriously, Marque, what is the High Council thinking? Selling weapons in order to
prevent
war? What kind of logic is that?”

Marque shrugged. “The Council believes that force is a deterrent. If you know your enemy can destroy you, you’re less likely to attack that enemy.”

“But one slip, and the world could be annihilated. Again.”

“I know. That’s why I do what I do. I keep track of the weapons so that there
are
no slips. War will never happen again. Not if I can prevent it.”