Echoes in Eternity (The Pella Series Book 1) (12 page)

“Are you alright? How do you feel?” he asks without blinking, or taking away his intense gaze from my face. I nod my head.

“I... should go. I have to pack. If I stay, I won’t have anything to take with me, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want a less than presentable personal assistant.”

“But you’re not well. I can’t take a chance o
n my new assistant having an accident on the way home because I let you go. Clothing articles can be purchased here...” he says. But I know the grand total in my bank account; I can’t even afford a pair of boots. And his heady, intoxicating proximity is not letting me make a coherent decision. I lower my eyes. I don’t want him to see the depths of my desire for him.

“I’m alright, really... Since I’m going to be moving to LA, I shouldn’t add extra expenses when I already have those items. I have to be careful with my finances Mr. Pella. After all, you’re only giving me a week’s trial, and you could easily say no at the end of the week...” and he opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt.

“Before you say, you pay for your close security’s and assistants’ required clothing, I’d like to express that I don’t want to be beholden to my new boss...” I say, then amending, I add, “new boss pending the trial week, I mean.” A ghost of a smile creeps up his lips. His hands slowly fall onto his own lap making me feel bereft and longing, and his right index finger and thumb go up to his face, absently caressing his bottom lip as if he’s contemplating something. What if he’s thinking I’m too much trouble to hire? This unfamiliar desire in me for him is almost unbearable, excessive, urgent, overwhelming and even turbulent. Is this healthy, or even normal? But I never wanted anything normal, or ordinary. I love the intensity of life. On one hand I don’t want to be in the same house with a biological mother who dislikes me, a mother who is overwhelmingly selfish to the point of wanting to get me locked up to manage my impending inheritance leaving me wanting to be far, far away from her. On the other hand, I am looking at this insanely, angelically beautiful specimen, of a man whose sideways glance, a single touch, even a single step he takes towards me screams sexual intensity, sensuality, and rapacious craving. Can I even live with it if I see him sparing the touch, the glance, the step for someone else? This is not good at all. I’ve met him less than twenty-four hours ago. I’ll be a mess by the end of the week. But then again, I think I may learn to not be so numb to life. I decide that I want the intensity, even if he has girlfriends in every town.

“Miss Duncan, you would not be beholden to me in any shape or form. I’m the one who is asking you to stay. It is but a small price to pay for the peace of mind and
to assure your safety.”

“Thank you but, I can’t accept it...” I respond in a small voice. But he’s not giving up.

“How about a compromise then... Anthony drives you to Montecito, you pack, say goodbye to your family for the week and he drives you back to LA today.”

“Huh?” I ask. Clearly this is less than articulate for a woman who speaks four languages fluently. But I don’t understand what sort of compromise this is. I don’t know if he heard me; if he did, he manages
to ignore my remark without any acknowledgement and continues.

“That way, you’re not beholden to me, and you can start acquainting yourself with my apartment or home since you will have to if you are working for me. As part of your job, you are required to be
on hand at a moment’s notice in either location as well as here, or any other place I may require you to be. You start your trial today. That’s the compromise I’m offering you,” he explains his gaze unwavering and penetrating through me but with utmost professionalism, with ease in his demands, and a slight tinge of arrogance of a man who is used to getting his way at all times.

“Okay, Mr. Pella.”

“Okay, you’re staying, or okay you start working today?” he asks in a tightly reined control, but some hidden worry causes a slight slip on his carefully donned mask showing me what a troubled soul he is. The gaze he gives me has immense power with a voracious hunger, a relentless demand to get his way and absolute control of his orderly world. Any fool can see that he’s a dangerous man; but oddly, every nerve on my body screams that the danger is not to me, that he will keep me safe.

“I start working today,” I reply simply to this man I feel I can’t or I don’t wish to say no to. He takes his smart phone out of his pocket, and speed dials someone. Without breaking his gaze from me, he speaks into the speaker.

“Anthony, you are driving Ms. Duncan to Montecito, and driving her back with her packed luggage,” he says, and listens
to a response.

“Within the next 10 minutes,” he replies, and he hangs up.

“Mr. Pella, since I’m going to be working for you, at least all next week, is there anyone I need to acquaint myself with? Your other staff, family members, wife, girlfriend?” I ask nonchalantly, or at least I hope it’s nonchalant. My question is unexpected and a bright glint comes to his eyes as his breath hitches. My question takes him by surprise. 

“You will meet my immediate staff and security detail soon
, tomorrow perhaps... My family members,” he says and there’s a tinge of pain in his carefully uttered words, “are either dead, or we’ve lost touch. There are no women I care enough to acquaint you with.”

What do I say to this answer? His family members are either dead or he lost touch with them. That’s really sad. I’ve no one to call family except my uncle and my nanny. Sarah doesn’t count. Would this be a bad time to mention the Busty One, and Busty Two I met downstairs?

“Well, uhm... I’ve met two ladies downstairs after my interview with you, and I couldn’t help but hear their rather brazen conversation. They were indicating to each other that both of them were well acquainted with you in more ways than one. I thought maybe one of them might be your girlfriend,” I say shrugging. He cocks his head to one side, lowers himself to connect with my gaze. His stare has fire in them, hot, demanding, and inquisitive.

“You will find many other women talking about me. Just part of the façade. I haven’t had anyone worthy of introduction in a very... very...very long time,” he says enunciating.

What does that mean? He just fucks them and leaves them? Do I want to find out? Who was the last woman he cared about a very, very, very long time ago?

There’s a knock on his door, and without an answer, a tall, muscular man with military precision enters into the office.

“Mr. Pella. I’m ready to drive Miss Duncan to Montecito. In her vehicle or one of ours sir?” he asks, and nods in my direction in greeting.

“One of ours,” he replies. It’d be easier to carry her luggage.

“Whenever you’re ready Miss Duncan, I shall drive you,” he says turning to me, and I get up.

“I’m ready.”

“I’ll see you this evening Miss Duncan,” says Alex with a threat, or promise in his voice. My breath hitches, my gaze is on him unable to look away. Why can’t I control my reaction to his sensual and electrifying proximity? I take his extended hand and shake it, and let the jolt go through my body, a welcome reaction now. When I pull my hand away, Antony is holding the door open for me. Alex follows us out; a silent conversation goes through between the two.

And the feeling of
déjà vu sweeps me up again.

“Until tonight...” his words hang in the air, a promise and a threat.

“Alex,” I nod and Anthony and I enter into the elevator car, leaving Alex intensely gazing at the closing doors.

CHAPTER IV

SUNDOWN

Alexander Aurelius Pella

When I walk back into my office, Henry is waiting for me.

“Why did you cross paths with Elissa? I thought we agreed you wouldn't do that until she fully regained her memories,” I say accusingly to Henry. 

“I wanted to be sure...” he says pausing, finally completely believing who he’s met outside. Doc is as affected by her sight as Elissa was by his appearance. “Besides, she’s my godchild. It’s been over two centuries since I’ve seen her. You’re not the only one who cares for her,
sir,” he says in his Southern gentleman tone, his gaze matching mine. “I wanted to see her up close even if it was just for a few seconds.”

“You know it’s dangerous for her. I don’t know what it would do to her. You know the rules!”

“She did not see my face, Alexander!” 

“My God Henry, you look like you just walked out of 1802! It may elicit an adverse response in her, and you know that it may be detrimental to her! I can’t take the chance. You don’t see me dressing up in
armor with a cuirass  to trigger her earlier memories!” I scold him.

“Maybe you should, Alexander! Because you don’t know who will reach her first before you unlock her memories! And besides, I have a mind of my own and know what is best for her well-being. Stop expecting me to hail down to you like one of your former
 Praetorians, Alexander. Anthony can and is doing that quite well for both of us...” he says smirking, and then adds in a somber tone, “But, I am your friend; it is a title I don’t afford loosely to anyone. In fact when I count friends in all my 251 years of existence, the numbers barely sum up more than half a dozen. The longer we live, the more jealous we grow of our existences. But it means nothing to me if I can’t lay my life down for you, or Miss Ellie should it come to that,” he says.

I nod somberly knowing the truth in his words. I have existed over 2360 years, but I’ve never met anyone as loyal as Henry and Anthony in all my existence who is
more worthier in being called a friend. I trust both of them implicitly; but I still have to be the final authority; it can’t be helped when it comes to Elissa.

“What’s
on the agenda for tomorrow?” Henry asks to change the topic.

“Quite a few items... But, have you and your team screened all the approved prospective bidders?”

“Yes. Some of the bottomless coin purses have disputable reputations requiring me to delve more into their business affairs. I will have to get back to you on that. You may have to assess their characters for yourself tomorrow.”

“What’s the country of origin of those buyers?”

“Peru.”

“Anyone we know?”

“No one we've done business with in the past.”

“What are they interested in buying?”

“They’re supposedly establishing a new tourism company with their own fleet of passenger aircrafts to accommodate all the tourists to predetermined locations.”

“Sounds alright...” I observe, but I know there’s more.

“That’s just it. It only sounds alright up to this point. Then it becomes a shithole. They secured $100 million to purchase five new Airbus 321 with passenger configurations. The company doesn’t have a bank vouching for them, and no one has heard of them up until three years ago. The funds appear to be coming from unknown sources.”

I think about that for a minute. What does the company have to conceal by hiding their very large monetary sources? If no bank was vouching for them, the money had to come from someplace.

“Clearly, they’re not paying such a sum in cash. It has to be deposited someplace.”

“It’s deposited in a Southeast Asian bank account.”

“Is that all they want? Five A321s with PAX configuration?”

“No. They want to know if they can purchase three drones. It’s going to be an $89 billion Dollar industry in the next decade, and they want their hands on some. They also want two Sikorsky S-92 helicopters with speed configurations, secret compartments and all the luxury bells and whistles for high end clients as well as two Sikorsky X2s.”