“No. Not today.”
Dizzie snorted.
Portia ignored the interruption and continued. “I have a request for you. Actually, I’ve been asked to pass on a request.”
“No,” Dizzie said.
“Hear me out. Please,” Portia added.
“No.” Dizzie shook her head.
Killian leaned over and whispered in her ear. She rolled her eyes, then sighed. “Fine.”
Dizzie smoothed out her expression. Suddenly, her face gave away nothing of her feelings. Portia was almost proud—she’d obviously been practicing. That skill would serve Dizzie well in their world.
“What can I do for you?” Dizzie asked in a voice just as smooth, just as expressionless.
“I met with a representative of the Solveig Consortium today.” She paused. “Your mother’s family would like to meet you.”
Dizzie paled and jerked back in her chair. Her mouth opened but no words came out. In the next instant, she popped up and raced from the room, back into the reception area.
Portia blinked in surprise. That was unexpected.
Killian stood then stopped and looked at Portia. “Does this have anything to do with Tremaine?”
“It all has to do with the company,” she answered honestly. “But the first thing the representative asked for was a meeting with Dizzie. I directed him to her assistant, but thought I should let her know in advance. I don’t know anything more than that.”
“Thank you,” Killian said after a long pause. “We’ll get back to you.”
The “we” struck Portia in the heart and she sucked in a breath. She missed being part of a “we.” After a careful exhale, she said, “I appreciate that.”
Killian half-smiled and tipped his head. Then he followed Dizzie out of the office and left Portia all alone again.
She stared at the closed door. The meeting hadn’t been as terrible as she’d expected. In fact, as far as meetings with her sister went, this one had been relatively painless. Still, it left her feeling edgy and out of sorts.
Everyone wanted Portia to embrace Dizzie as her sister, but no one was giving her time to get used to that unexpected development. She ran her thumb over her bare ring finger. There’d been so many changes over the last year.
Portia had barely gotten used to her new normal and now she worried that things were about to change again. She didn’t like change. It never worked out for her.
Her spacious office suddenly felt small and airless. She had to get out of here before the walls closed in on her.
Chapter7
Safely behind her front door,Portia shed her clothes as she strode across the penthouse apartment she and Tommy had purchased just before they got married. She paused to trail her fingers over the picture frame sitting beside the couch. It flickered to life, revealing images from their wedding. Images of their vows, their first dance, and them laughing at the cake cutting cycled across the screen. Happy moments, forever frozen in time.
“I miss you,” she said as the loop started again.
Her voice echoed in the empty living room. The once-perfect home was too quiet now. Too big. Too Tommy-less.
She hated the emptiness, but she wasn’t ready to leave yet. Wasn’t ready to start over. And where would she go?
Once in her bedroom, Portia stripped off her remaining clothes and pulled on high-tech black running tights and a matching top. Breathable and lightweight, the fabric also provided the wearer with light protection. It wouldn’t stop a bullet—initially, it had been developed to prevent scrapes and bruises—but it would stop a knife. She’d learned that the hard way.
Next, she pulled a special brush through her hair. Each stroke applied a thin layer of nanos and temporarily changed her from a blonde to a brunette. Then she ruthlessly scraped her newly dark hair into a braid. A pair of tinted glasses completed the look.
Portia studied her reflection. For the second time that day, the woman staring back didn’t look like Portia Tremaine. Whoever the hell she was.
Her whole life, she’d been Portia Tremaine, Phillip Tremaine’s daughter.
