Love For Sale (28 page)

He stroked deep. “I’m up for it.”

The second time, they made love slowly, savoring the beauty of their physical and mental connections. In the outside world, the storm broke with a fury, wind lashing the trees, rain hammering the windows. Inside their private heaven, they forgot the existence of that other dimension. In the dark bedroom, with their bodies and whispered vows, they consecrated their love.

****

Passion spent, March rested in the curve of Christian’s body. Not only was the ardor she brought to making love exhausted, she was weak, and the weakness threatened tears. With Christian in her arms, she couldn’t weep. Already, he suspected something was wrong. She prayed he wouldn’t discover her secret. Despite the treatments, the cancer was fast consuming her liver. When he looked closely, he’d see the yellow tint to the whites of her eyes.

She snuggled back against him and closed her eyes, content and truly alive for the first time in the months he’d been gone.
Nothing like the man you love to put your mind at rest.
The truth nipped at her resolve. As the disease progressed, he’d notice she was ill. There was no escaping the cold, hard fact she probably faced a wasting death. It would be unfair and selfish not to warn him, but God, to say the fatal words aloud to someone seemed to seal her fate. She lay in silence, watching the digital numbers on the clock flash by in red. Her feelings were a tangle of dread and soul-wrenching sorrow. It had to be done. Somehow, she had to tell Christian she was dying.

“Christian.” She bit her lower lip, fighting tears of self-pity and felt him go rigid.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“There is something I haven’t told you.”

His arms tightened around her. He inhaled. She didn’t hear him exhale. He must be holding his breath. Waiting for the bad news. He tried to turn her to face him.

“No, please.” She stiffened against his effort. “It’s easier this way.”

She felt him exhale the pent-up breath, but he said nothing. The awful stillness held a frightening sound of its own.

“I—I have…the cancer has spread to my liver.” Once she began, the confession came in a rush. “They are treating me, but I’ve been given six months to a year.”

“No,” he said, his voice shaking. “I won’t allow it. God, do you hear me? I won’t allow you to take her from me.”

Now, she flipped to face him, seizing his face between her hands. “Shush, darling, there’s nothing you can do.”

“Yes, there is.” He gazed into her eyes, and in the depths of those glittering sapphires, anger and determination swirled. “If you will allow me.”

“Please, Christian, I know it’s hard for you to comprehend, but you can’t fight death, except the way the doctors are doing it.”

“We won’t fight death. We shall cheat him.” He placed a loving kiss on her lips. “Listen and try not to fear. Mayfair has tested a revolutionary new process. It is the actual reason they initially created and beta tested the Special Editions. They plan to sell life to the dying.”

Chapter 21

“What do you mean?” March paled, fear shading her eyes.

He pressed a finger to the cleft in her lip. “Mind transfer from the human brain into the body of an android. No, wait. They are still involved in the trial phase, but it has worked successfully in three cases, one of which is your ex-husband. He was mortally wounded in that car accident. Mayfair kept him alive until they could build a replica and, in short, saved his life.”

“You mean Paul
is
the bionic man?” Her expression was a mix of wonder and alarm. “I knew there was something different about him. God, he’s even forgiven me for loving you. Of course, it would be hypocritical if he didn’t. You know he has Georgia.”

“Yes, I’d heard.” Christian brought her hand to his lips. “Please, March, allow me to ask Mayfair. If it saves your life…”

“But you ran away. Will they listen or send those thugs to arrest you?”

“I’m certain I can convince them. I’ll speak directly with the CEO, my namesake.” He caressed her cheek, so smooth, so soft and so dear. “The question is, my darling, will you allow me to ask. Will you do this for me…and for yourself? March, please, I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

The silence stretched until he thought she’d refuse.

They gazed into each other’s eyes as emotions chased across her face. If he’d turned his thoughts inward, he’d have heard the tension zinging along his circuits. Instead, he listened to the rapid beat of her heart and watched for any clue to her answer.

At last, she sighed, closed her eyes and offered the ghost of a nod. “Yes.” Then, softly, “I don’t want to die. Won’t they punish you?”

Immediately, he was on his feet, fishing his mobile from the pocket of the pants discarded on the floor. “No.” His determined tone masked the uncertainty of his own future. She must never suspect he faced the same process, in reverse—his extinction and Aguillard’s triumph.

March laughed. “Mayfair is closed at this hour, darling.”

“Ah, the wise woman speaks truth.” He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “First thing in the morning then.”

“You’re excited about this, aren’t you?” March rolled off the other side of the bed, stood facing him, her eyes bright and hopeful.

“I’m excited because I want you to live. I want you to be immortal, too.” In Aguillard’s shadow, Christian stared at the end of eternity.

****

Promptly at four a.m. the next morning, while March slept, Christian sat at her desk waiting for his second call to the former CEO of Mayfair Electronics to be connected. Margaret, the receptionist, had informed him that Aguillard had resigned his post. However, he’d be in the office at ten and would speak with Christian.

“Good morning, Christian.” The other man barked a short laugh. “Christian here.”

The joke fell on deaf ears. Christian was focused on one thing. “I am willing to return for the mind transfer at once, on these terms. March Morgan is terminally ill. Will you build a replica of my owner and process a mind transfer for her? She is already sworn to secrecy, and you’ll have another beta test before the project goes live.”

Aguillard’s smug laugh grated on Christian’s nerves, forcing him to cling tight to his purpose. “There’s only one problem with that scenario, Christian. I no longer need you for the mind transfer. The lab created another unit of your line that surpasses my desires. The process is complete. I am now a tall, blond, devastatingly handsome man.”

“Complete?” Despair overcame his certainty that Mayfair would save March’s life. What could he offer Aguillard to persuade him to help her?

“Quite a few things have happened since your rather dramatic decamp. I’m certain you are hanging on my every word. I resigned as CEO the day the transfer was complete. I’m sure you can understand that having a Christian model running the company would raise too many suspicions and far too many eyebrows. I’m enjoying retirement as a consultant.”

He laughed again, an echo of Christian’s laugh. “You’ll be happy to hear I’m not an exact duplicate. I ordered eyes of a darker hue and hair golden blond rather than your rather pale wheat color. I thought we’d be fraternal twins.”

Sickness boiled in his stomach. “Will you still perform the transfer for March? She…we will find a way to pay. The refund can be reversed, of course. Aguillard, if you will save her, you may have my body for a transfer to anyone at any time.”

“I’m not interested in you as a subject for a transfer. Your, shall we call it
independent
streak, is worrying. Damien Wills and Stefan Cross assured me there was no risk once your memory banks were wiped clean and reprogrammed, but I feared they were wrong in this instance. Coincidentally, the night you escaped, Wills resigned. Regardless of the results of their investigations, you are volatile, a trait we cannot afford to entertain.”

With growing anxiety, Christian listened to Aguillard’s monologue. He schooled his tone businesslike. “You need human participants for your
clinical trials
before you go live with this venture.”

A long pause ate at Christian’s nerves. He was on the verge of begging when his adversary spoke suddenly.

“March Morgan.” Aguillard gazed into the distance as if he’d forgotten Christian’s presence, then looked back at him. “March, my birth month, in fact. For that arbitrary reason alone, I’ll order creation of her duplicate at once. I’ll be lenient to my rebellious brother, albeit the black sheep, since we are now
family
. No need to hasten to London. The replica takes several weeks. You, my rebel, have always fascinated me. As recompense for my charity, I expect a kiss. Nearly identical twins embracing and kissing. What an exciting thought.”

Christian’s stomach did a slow, queasy crawl. “I will do whatever you ask.”

“Darling?”

He whirled. A sleep-tousled March stood in the doorway, gripping the doorjamb, looking too pale and frail to endure the weeks necessary for her transformation.

“Yes, I assume you will, my rebel. We’ll let you know when the replica is completed,” Aguillard said, his arrogance infuriating. “Afterwards, I simply must take your lovely wife to dinner. She sounds quite intriguing.”

Christian smothered his temper, held up one finger, motioning to March for a minute more. “I look forward to hearing from you. We’ll be prepared.”

“Right then. I must ring off. There’s a lovely boy awaiting my attentions. Good day, my brother. We’ll be in touch.” Aguillard sounded distracted, no doubt, by the
lovely boy.

“Have a great day.” Christian forced the pleasantry through his gritted teeth. “I shall look forward to hearing from you.”

Thumbs up, smiling, he strode to March, gently gripping her shoulders. “I was talking with Mayfair. It is all set. Tomorrow, they begin work on the replica.”

If possible, she went even paler. “This is going to take some getting used to. I know it’s necessary, but it’s also frightening.”

He pulled her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head. “Love, I’ll be with you. Would it help if you talked to Paul?”

She shook her head in a quick denial. “I don’t want him to know I’m dying…or being reborn. Thank God, I can stop my treatments. I see no reason to suffer.”

“Is that wise? It will be a few weeks before the transfer can be achieved.” He held her away to gaze into her eyes, trying to read her true feelings. “I wish we could fly to London now.”

She gripped his face. “Christian, I’m afraid. What if the transfer fails? How does it work?”

“Don’t be afraid. They have successfully completed three transfers.” His arms circled her waist. “As to how it works, I’m not sure. First, I assume they’d have to ascertain the contents or details of the person’s mind by scanning it, either invasively or noninvasively. The former would destroy the human brain. The invasive process, I’ve read, involves connecting to the corpus callosum, the large bundles of nerve fibers linking the two hemispheres of the brain. The corpus callosum is severed, and the severed ends connected to cables of a computer.

“The results of the scan are then transferred into an android brain. Already, MRI scanners are able to view neuron cell bodies. Apparently, Mayfair has developed higher-resolution MRIs capable of scanning presynaptic vesicles, the site of human learning.”

“If that was a guess, it sounds pretty accurate—and scary.”

He kissed her sensual but pale lips. “Don’t back out on this. It’s our only hope.”

****

Three weeks later, Christian met himself face-to-face in the CEO’s office at Mayfair. This time, the man behind the desk was his mirror image. Only the hair and the eyes were a different shade. He didn’t see any other alterations that would make this model different as required by the rules except the arrogant smirk on Aguillard’s lips. Rules, he supposed, could be broken by the original owner of the company. He was glad March was with Melissa signing the necessary documents. Seeing two of him could very well be unnerving. Today, she didn’t need any unpleasant surprises, and even he shivered when he looked at his duplicate.

Aguillard rose, and, running his finger along the edge of the desk, slowly approached Christian. “Time for payment, my rebel. Bend over here. I’m going to show you what it feels like to be a real man.”

****

Nauseated, humiliated, and in pain, Christian followed one of the new models to the laboratory. His guide was a pretty young man with long auburn hair and forest-green eyes. The creature didn’t walk. He sashayed. None of it mattered. In minutes, he’d be with March. Even now, they were readying her for the transfer.

When he entered the lab, his heart slammed to a halt. What he saw terrified him.

March lay in a comfortable, normal bed. On the other side of a strange-looking computer was her exact replica on a hospital bed. Its eyes were closed, hers open and wide. Fear vibrated the air. She captured his gaze and whispered his name.

He whispered, “I love you,” and she relaxed, smiling. The nurse anesthetist inserted a needle into the IV on her arm, and her eyes closed. For the last time.

Christian’s heart nosedived, panic gripping his throat. The urge to run to her and stop the transfer seized him. Yet he found he couldn’t move.

The surgeon fitted the helmet which would monitor and alter the traffic between the two hemispheres of March’s brain, using carefully controlled electromagnetic fields. During this
eavesdropping,
the computer would construct a model of her mental activities in the android brain.

As the minute hand on the clock crept toward an hour, Christian stood by the door in numb motionlessness. God, what if the transfer failed? He’d killed the woman he loved. Guilt crawled over him, but he was too terrified to give the useless feeling much thought. Again and again, he reminded himself that this process was March’s only hope. His mind accepted it but his heart did not.

“Oh God, no.” His hands flew to cover his eyes as they shifted March’s body onto a hospital bed identical to the one occupied by the motionless robot.

As they rolled his beloved’s corpse by him, he grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, fighting not to weep aloud. She was no paler than she’d been in life, her skin still warm, but she was dead, and the horrible truth echoed in his head.