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She shivered with anticipation, wondering what Jubal would be wearing.
After smoothing on a bit of lip gloss, she hurried out into the main part of the house.
Everything was in place in the villa, except that Jubal wasn’t there.
Chloe decided to look for him in the new wing. That seemed like the most logical place.
The door opened to reveal a beautiful atrium filled with exotic plants and flowers, with a dining table at the center.
She seated herself to wait, deciding that Oberon must have sent Jubal to one of the other suites to prepare for lunch.
She took a sip of sparkling water from a champagne flute, enjoying the light lemon flavor. Outside the atrium, she could see the bright afternoon sky. She contented herself with watching the clouds as she waited.
But when her sparkling water was gone, and Jubal still wasn’t at the table yet, she started to worry.
“Oberon,” she said. “Am I in the right place to meet Jubal for lunch?”
“You are exactly where you are supposed to be,” Oberon replied. “Regrettably, there has been a change in plans.”
“Okay,” she said, getting up. “Where should I go?”
“There is no need for you to go anywhere,” Oberon told her. “Lunch will be served to you momentarily.”
“What about Jubal?” she asked, a sinking feeling dragging her spirits down.
“Jubal has been to the main offices of the Center,” Oberon said softly. “He has released you from your contract. You will still be paid, of course.”
“Where is he?” she demanded, the realization of Oberon’s words hitting her like a punch.
Was this just because of two unsuccessful nights?
Fury was rising in her now, taking the place of her pain, if only temporarily.
How dare he?
Jubal knew from day one that she had fertility issues in the first place, and that this was why she was willing to act as a surrogate here. He could hardly blame her for not getting pregnant immediately. Even Dr. Pan had said it was normal.
“He’s leaving through the service gate at the rear of the Center,” Oberon said. “It seems he has chartered a private shuttle to pick him up in the village just outside the Center’s border.”
“Lead the way,” she instructed him through a clenched jaw.
She would have sworn it was a futile exercise, that clearly the Center AI would ultimately exist to serve the paying client, not the surrogate. But then there was suddenly a cloud of fireflies in the air, moving toward a door in the atrium that led outside.
“You’ll have to use the roller skates again if you want to get there in time,” Oberon warned her.
“Fine,” she said, lowering herself to the ground to put on the skates that were in the box by the side of the road.
She realized belatedly that the grass was a little muddy. But if she had to sacrifice a pretty dress to get answers, then so be it.
She tightened the laces like Jubal had shown her, and got on one knee, steadying herself before straightening up.
For a moment, she felt her balance slipping away.
Then she remembered to lean forward and bend her knees.
With a deep breath, she took off toward the gate, hoping Oberon would remember to open it before she crashed into it.
The wind slid fingers into her hair, releasing tendrils from the comb, and she wondered how ridiculous she looked, a grown woman in a gown, wearing roller-skates, flying down the road to an unknown destiny.
