The entire Escana family preferred to fly under the radar. All she found were random images of Venturo in a formal setting in a company of New Delphi Elite, usually escorting a beautiful woman. She tried to narrow down his type. He seemed to show no preference. The only common ground between his dates consisted of expensive tastes, beauty, and superior grooming.
Studying the New Delphi's movers and shakers proved highly educational. There was no color too bright or inappropriate for clothes or hair. She ended up laughing at the ridiculous dresses and insane shoes. It was the best time she ever had in the last decade.
A small link popped up on the screen in the corner. She followed it to an eighteen-year-old news item. "Rumors of Engagement between de Solis and Escana."
Hmm. Now that was interesting, provided that de Solis owned DDS.
"The persistent rumors of a union between de Solis and Escana kinsmen families can be put to rest. When asked for comment, Castilla de Solis debunked all speculation of the proposed engagement between herself and Venturo Escana. It seems the de Solis heiress holds the rising star of the Escana clan in low regard. Had the rumors proven true, the struggling Escana Family would have reaped great financial benefits..."
"Castilla de Solis, image," Claire said.
A picture of a woman filled the screen. Tall, slender, athletic, she leaned back, laughing, the bright lavender dress falling off her shoulders, held up seemingly by her breasts alone. Jet black hair spilled down her back in a glossy wave.
No way to gauge her psycher capacity.
If that was Venturo's type, she'd chosen the wrong hair color. She should've dyed her hair black.
Claire leaned back. "Delete."
Castilla disappeared, replaced by an image of Venturo: golden, muscular, his green eyes sharp with intellect. Her body tightened in response, eager for contact. She imagined sliding her hands along those carved arms...
Claire exhaled slowly. There was no rational explanation why when she looked at him, she thought of sex. It was an involuntary response, completely at odds with her personality and training.
Sex was a means of relief. On Uley, it was an understood fact that one engaged in it, but it was rarely discussed. She had a sexual partner once. His name was Dominic. She was eighteen, he was twenty-two. She had just made lieutenant and he was in line for the captain promotion. They had three months together and in those three months she had something to look forward to when she returned to her apartment. She could still recall the feel of his hands on her, the way he said her name, the way he felt inside her.
The Intelligence had transferred him across the city. They had no warning. One day he was simply gone. It didn't take her long to put it together: she was a rising star and he was perceived as a distraction. He didn't try to look for her. He didn't put up a fight. Since then, she'd kept her sexual impulses under lock and key. Masturbation brought her the same relief, and while it came with no intimacy, it didn't carry a burden of disappointment either. In her last weeks on Uley she hadn't even felt the need for it.
She looked at Venturo Escana on the screen. It was as if some vital part of her, the one that was female and craved male contact, sex, and love, had withered. Somehow this man managed to resuscitate it without doing anything at all. And he felt nothing except pity for her. The irony made her laugh.
She would see him again on Monday. She had to make sure to not make a fool of herself.
Her supervisor was a woman three years her junior. Her name was Renata, her hair was dark brown, her nails bright yellow, and when she was surprised, she opened her brown eyes so wide, she looked slightly deranged.
"How did you get through these so fast?"
"I'm motivated." Claire smiled.
Renata scrolled through the bionet activity reports with rows of tabled data. "Hang on, I have to find something to gripe about." She kept scrolling. "Oh. Here, look, the Radon sector heading should be in blue and you have it in grey." Her fingers flew over her keyboard. "Fix, fix, fix! Fixed."
Claire studied Renata out of the corner of her eye. Her mannerisms were so... carefree. Not exactly childlike but completely devoid of the somber poise common to Uley. If you had dropped Renata, the big smile, wide eyes, and purple dress in the middle of an Uley's skyscraper, people would pretend she wasn't there. They'd just refuse to see her. Maybe some well-meaning soul would walk up to her and confidentially inform her that her hair was too bright and she was making a fool of herself...
A mental tug interrupted Claire's musings. Venturo Escana, approaching fast. A walking mental firestorm of a mind behind an invisible wall of a steel will.
"All set." Renata raised her hands from the keys. "Did you review the Sangori file?"
"Yes." Venturo's mind was coming closer.
"And the recommendations?
"Yes."
"Good! Be ready to spit it all back at Ven when he comes by. He has a meeting with them later this afternoon and he prefers the spoken summary. But don't worry, he knows most of the file already. He just needs a refresher course."
He had a heightened auditory focus — his mind processed sound better than visual cues. Although for most people the theory of learning styles had long been debunked, for psychers it remained true: some were visual learners, some listened, and others had to write every scrap of information down. She'd worked with auditory psychers like that before. There was a trick to it — the combination of the correct intonation, vocabulary, and the information presented in a logical manner.
Renata's eyes widened. "Speak of the devil."
Venturo had turned the corner. Claire braced herself and turned to look, slowly.
The amicable man she saw yesterday was gone. He wore a black shirt that clung to him like paint, focusing attention on every contoured muscle. A fine mesh of hair-thin fibers snaked its way through the fabric, widening into oblong scales on his chest and the larger muscles of his shoulders. He looked as if he wore armor, if armor could be flexible and formfitting. His eyes were dark, and his mind churned — something occupied his attention. He moved with a purpose, striding straight down the hallway with a kind of fierce masculine determination. People moved out of his way.
"What is he wearing?" Claire murmured.
"A bionet suit. When psychers log into the net, their bodies don't move at all. A human body isn't designed to be completely immobile unless it floats," Renata said. "The suits start pulsing after a while, exercising the muscles and making sure lymph keeps moving."
A bionet suit. Claire recalled waking up cramped up after hours in bionet and wincing as the medic massaged her limbs back into life.
"Someone's smitten," Renata said.
Claire glanced at her. "Is it that obvious?"
"Yes. Very." Renata paused. "Claire, you do know what psychers do, don't you?"
She needed to give a general answer. "Provide security?"
"If they catch hackers on the bionet, they kill them." Renata leaned closer. "Venturo's death count is in dozens. You can't keep doing that sort of work and not be affected."
You don't say.
"He looks delicious and golden, but his head is a dark place. He was attacked in front of our building once — four people — and he drove each of them to impale themselves onto an iron fence, one by one. You don't need to tangle with that kind of mind. Trust me on this."
"I understand," Claire said.
"There is a reason why psychers in Guardian Inc. aren't permitted to read our minds. Sometimes a two-way connection happens and you see things in their heads. Dark things. He's a kinsman — all they care about is power and influence. Not to mention that nothing serious could ever come from it. Psychers love other psychers. Something about joining of the minds, and all that."