HIGHLANDER: The Highlander’s Surrender Bride (Scottish Alpha Male Pregnancy Romance) (51 page)

He smirked, a genuine sign of approval.  “What gave me away?”

“The languages you picked… you spoke them in the order that I learned them.”  She felt a sense of daring well up inside of her.  “Your Swahili is a little off, by the way.  It’s plain enough that you don’t actually speak the language, Mr. Madison… I’m guessing you referenced a language program to learn to pronounce that single question properly?”

His smirk became a full grin.  “Oh… you are
very
good, Ms. Church.  Although I must say that your forthrightness is a tad… pompous?”

“Forgive me, sir,” she said, feeling a sense of nervousness, thinking that she had overstepped her bounds.  But she felt enough courage and caution within her to cling to her principals.  “But I was always taught that if you’re never honest with someone on their shortcomings that they never improve.”

Madison burst in a loud laugh and she thought for certain that everyone in the world below them could have heard him.  It was thunder rumbling from the mountain of a god so that the people would know that he was there.

“You’ve got cheek, Ms. Church, I’ll give you that,” he said, turning and walking back to his desk.  As he walked away, that warm feeling in the air vanished from around her and the tingling feeling slowly subsided.  Her heart rate slowed and while his back was turned she took a visible breath of relief and straightened herself up once again.  “And I must say you’ve got tenacity… that’s something in rare supply around here.”

He settled back into his chair and looked her over once more.  “Ass kissers are a dime a dozen in this business, Ms. Church.  Clients… employees… the board of directors… people looking to partner with my company… grant seekers… every day, it’s the same thing.  ‘Mr. Madison, you look exceptionally handsome today!’ ‘Why, Mr. Madison, that’s a
brilliant
idea!’  ‘Mr. Madison, I and twenty other people did not think of that!’” 

He rolled his eyes and groaned and there was something very humanizing in the sound and expression, like he wasn’t the richest man in creation.  “I’m not looking for someone to butter me up and ply me with compliments at every turn.  Life is not all sunshine and rainbows… there is plenty that is dark… cold… dirty… violent… dangerous… and untruthful.  That last attribute is the one that
I
believe can be done without on simple impulse.  There is little that can be done about the dark, the cold, the dirty, the violent, and the dangerous.  But it’s between every soul and their conscience on whether or not to be honest. 
That
is what I’m looking for.” 

She gave a small nod.  It seemed simple enough.  “I see, sir.”

His expression changed, becoming inquisitive and testing her for a proper response.  “Do you have what it takes, Ms. Church?”

She was able to honestly respond.  “I don’t know of any other way to conduct my life, Mr. Madison.”

“Your
life
?  Not your job?”

“Most jobs have regularly set hours, sir.  No one ever stops living their life.”

He was still and silent for a time, looking at her over his desk as if mentally sizing her up.  She had seen the look on many others before and had learned to endure it.  Whatever it was that he was thinking he had a reason to do so.  Nothing she could do could affect the outcome of such a thing.  It was best to allow him to reach his own conclusions.

After a short time he again folded his hands in his lap.  “You’re aware that this is a live-in position, correct?”

“I am, sir.”

“Then you realize that your job and your life would in essence become the same thing?  You would be at my service every hour of every day, unless I say otherwise.  Would that be a problem at all for you Ms. Church?”

“Not at all, sir.”

He leaned back in his chair.  “Good.  I believe you.  And that is something that I rarely do with people that I’ve just met.”

She again waited as he tapped his fingers together contemplatively.  She could tell well enough that he had one more conclusion to reach and it was best to let him make it. 

“I have read your files Ms. Church.  I do believe that you can fulfill the requirements of the position as they were described.  But I’m always looking for something…
extra
… when it comes to my attaché.”

She didn’t let her confusion show.  “Something extra, sir?”

He nodded.  “Yes, but that is a conversation that will be had at a later time… if it’s to be had at all.  Time will tell.”

There was something final about the remark and Lanie was too experienced from practice interviews to know not to bring it up again.  It was done, if the topic – whatever it was – should rise again, she would just have to wait and see.

“But first thing’s first.  I’ll need to get you started almost immediately.  The first item on the agenda would be to bring your personal possessions here.  From your file I recall that you live on the 311
th
level of Samson Tower, yes?”

She nodded.

“Good… I own that building.  Feel free to return home and pack, Ms. Church.  Though I recommend you pack light and return as quickly as possible.  A bag with a few days’ worth of materials should suffice quite nicely.  I’ll contact one of my moving crews and I’ll have all of your personal possessions packed up and shipped here to my private facility by tomorrow morning.”  He smiled across his desk at her.  “Congratulations Ms. Church.  The position is yours.”

Lanie felt in that single moment that she might explode from excitement.  This interview had been nothing like she had expected and it had been far shorter than she had thought it would take.  And yet… the job was hers.  She had heard it from the head of the company himself.  It seemed so unreal… like a dream that she refused to wake up from.  And though her legs were demanding that she dance here on the spot, it took every last ounce of her strength to keep from doing so.

“Thank you, Mr. Madison.”

“Ian,” he corrected.

“Excuse me?”

“Ian… that’s my name.  If you’re to be in my inner circle, then I would consider you to be a friend.  And my friends all refer to me by my first name.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat.  “Thank you, sir… uh…
Ian.
  And, I suppose it’s only fair that you can call me Lanie.”

“Lanie…” he said, testing the word.  “I like that.  Welcome aboard,
Lanie
.”

Chapter 3

By the time she returned three hours later with a single packed bag, Lanie realized how much her life had changed.  And how much faster paced it was about to become. 

When she returned to Madison Tower she was greeted at the security desk where a personal I.D. chip was issued to her and inserted subcutaneously into her right hand in the web of skin between her thumb and index finger.  The guard that performed the simple procedure ran a scanner over the newly inserted implant and her image and personal information flitted to life above a display via a holographic projector on the other side of the security desk.

Underneath the image the words “Full Access” pulsed in bold red lettering.

“This’ll get you through all of the doors in the whole building,” the security officer explained.  “But there are some places that it won’t let you through.”

“Like where?”

The security officer smirked.  “You’ll know when it happens.”

She wanted to press for more information but thought better of it.  If this was to be her life now she had better get used to the idea that there would be some things that were going to be more easily experienced than explained.  She simply accepted it and when she was shown to the elevator that was reserved strictly for Mr. Madison – Ian – and those of his inner circle she put such thoughts from her mind.  If she was going to get started on her new job, her new life, right away then it was time to get sharp.

“Welcome Ms. Church,” said a mechanized feminine voice once the doors closed.  “I am Mercy.”

The voice almost made her leap, but she managed to keep the reaction minimal.  The sound had originated from an overhead speaker and she knew that there had to be monitoring equipment of some kind inside the lift watching her.  Reflexively she asked, “Mercy?” as the lift slowly began its ascent.

“I am a home-interface program designed by Madison Tech.  I run the building operations and report to you and Mr. Madison.  I suppose you could say that I am your attaché just as you are to Mr. Madison.”

“You’re an A.I.?” she asked, astonished.

“No, not an A.I.,” the computer clarified.  “I am not designed to expand my programming or learn new abilities.  I am more like the old cell phones that people used to carry if you’re familiar with such things.  I am a communication and interface module that is linked to all of the critical systems of the building.  Department heads and other staff all report to me and keep me apprised of their progress on critical issues or projects.  And I, in turn, report to you and Mr. Madison.”

There was a chime and the doors to the lift parted. 

“Here is your living space, Ms. Church,” said Mercy. 

She stepped out of the elevator and found the hallway deserted.  It was very much the same as the floor on which Ian’s office resided, filled with long stretching corridors and numerous doors.  But as before, there was no sign that there was another living soul anywhere on this level.  But there were plenty of doors to choose from and she wondered which she had been assigned.  “Which one is my room?”

“You misunderstand,” Mercy said, her voice just as clear in the hall as it had been in the elevator.  “This entire floor is your living space.”

Lanie froze and couldn’t move another step.

“Excuse me?”

Mercy explained.  “Mr. Madison has been in need of a good attaché for several years now.  Part of the reason his last assistant could not cope with the high stresses of the job was because she was unable to relax as needed.  Mr. Madison does not wish this to happen again, so he took measures to insure the well-being of his new aide.  This entire level will suit your needs, whatever they may be, in order to keep you in top physical and mental form.  This level is second-from-the-top floor and is reserved exclusively for you.  Even Mr. Madison will not come here without your invitation if you so desire.”

Lanie’s jaw felt as though it could have hit the floor.  Just from looking she imagined that this level was about the same size as Ian’s.  But there was no possible way that
all
of this space could have been hers.  Especially when there was so much space that it could have held the population of a city block.

“It’s all mine?”

“Indeed,” Mercy replied as she began to walk.  “Feel free to choose any room you like as your primary residence.  I’ll advise Mr. Madison’s moving crew to bring your personal belongings there when they arrive.  I’m sure you’ll find any of these living spaces suitable.  Some of them come with private dining and kitchen areas that are similar to standard city housing units if that is your preference.  There are others where you will have a private cook if you so desire…”

“A
private
cook?” she interjected as she walked.

“Yes… I would recommend such.  Your duties for Mr. Madison will not leave you much time for cooking for yourself.  There will also be times when you will have very little time to eat, let alone prepare anything.”

She nodded, unable to argue with the logic of that.  “Duly noted… okay…” she said, gathering her thoughts.  “Alright… well… let’s get started then.”

Chapter 4

The first couple of days were by far the simplest of her new career.  She learned her way around the building while following Ian and getting a first-hand tour.  The point of such a thing being that he wanted her to become familiar with the projects that he had the most interest in.  Of which there were many.

“There are more projects currently in motion than even I can count,” he explained as they toured a lab that was developing some new kind of personalized computer that fit onto the back of a person’s hand.  “It’s my position that I – and therefore you – don’t need to be notified of their progress until they reach a certain point.  I don’t personally care to be constantly looking over someone’s shoulder asking for results.  That kind of pressure creates sloppy results, in my experience.  Mercy is familiar with every project and she’ll advise you once they reach that stage where you and I need to be notified.  Once done, I’ll expect you to become an expert on each project and how far it has come, as well as its intended aim.  I’ll need the assistance when looking for a target audience when it’s time to hit the open market, as well as making the formal presentation to our board.”

Following that she learned the chain of events that would follow.  When a project reached its completion point then she would become responsible for scheduling the meetings between the department heads and Ian, formatting their work into a presentation for him to see.  She would also be responsible for putting the work of the team he was meeting with into her self-proposed hard copy to prevent future thefts, since it was all her idea, and securing the data in whichever manner seemed best to her.  Ian had given her carte blanche
when it came to such things.  She knew that that was a large step in a personal career: she was on board for less than a day and already she was being trusted with trade secrets. 

There were of course some details that Ian would handle personally, but he didn’t share them with her.  As the CEO she knew that there were some things that would go well and above her level of need to know.  Part of being an attaché after all was keeping secrets and not minding when they were kept from her.

Inside of a different lab, this one involving some kind of a new pet immunization for one of the more exotic and aggressive animal ailments, he explained more.  “Most of the research that is done here is purely theoretical.  Only a handful of departments ever actually reach the developmental stages like this one here,” he said, gesturing to a handful of veterinarians that were busy working with microscopes and other tools of their trade. 

“These have been working on the same project for the last nine years.”

“What are they doing?” she asked.

“They’re attempting to find a way to rid all domestic animals of fleas.”

“Interesting.”’

“Indeed.  Of course, the world needs fleas just as it needs everything else and the trickiest part of their work is that they don’t want to unbalance the playing field of nature in any way, just pockets of it in the home.  The work, as you probably can imagine, is tedious and laborious at best.  But if they succeed, then the fleas that carry certain kinds of diseases that can shorten a pet’s lifespan will be done away with.”

“And you believe that this is a profitable venture?” she asked.

“Not in so many words… it’s more of a useful venture perhaps.  I once had a dog,” he said, almost mournfully.  “I lost it to a disease that my vet could not prevent.  So when this team came to me,” he said, gesturing to the men and women in their lab working as though they weren’t even there, “with the proposal to alleviate such a problem, I believed that they deserved their chance.  As does anyone else who values their pets.”

“And they’ve been working on this same project for nearly a decade?”

“Some departments work for years, even decades before they move out of the research phase and into production.  Part of what makes my business a success is accounting for every possible variable.”

She wondered at that.  “You allow them years to research even if they do not turn anything out with substance?”

He nodded.  “I can afford it… the expense is small.  And everything – down to a the last project – that we develop here is considered a long-shot at the start, but the end product always makes up for the delay ten-fold.”  He chuckled.  “Besides, good things never come easy, is that not so?”

All she could do was nod.  She knew this to be true; she’d had enough experiences with such things.  This new job was one such instance.  Sure, it had
seemed
easy now that she thought about it: she filled out an application and she got her interview and bam!  She had the job.  But the cost of it had been years and years of schooling… travel… time lost with the last family that she’d had then… and crippling student debt.  

But she wasn’t worried about any of that now.  With the money that this job offered she could earn enough in less than a year to pay off all of her debts and have enough to retire if she wanted.  Not that she would.  There was more to this job that fascinated and interested her than just the money.

At the top of her list was her new employer.

Through it all she still could not believe that she had gotten the job, out of everyone else upon the planet.  She could easily imagine that there had to be other – and more suited – candidates out there.  Some had to have degrees that were the same as hers, but with years of real-world experience in this particular field.  Some probably didn’t have degrees at all, but had the kind of management experience that Ian was looking for.  And then there were the kinds of people like her; fresh out of school and eager to hit the job market. 

She had read about such things.  Sometimes people fresh out of the gate were exactly what some companies were looking for.  They’re weren’t broken in by other companies… they were as fresh as new clay and could be reshaped and molded into whatever shapes their new masters wanted them to be.  That seemed to be just the kind of thing that she had found herself in.  And all things considered, it could have been much worse… though she had yet to see how it could have been any better.

“We believe in what we do here,” Ian said as they resumed walking, the scientists and lab hands ignoring them as they walked through.  “Everything here must serve a purpose… if not right away then at some point in the future.  But it has to be something that will benefit the planet.  It has to be better for everyone.”

“Even the military technology?” she asked, feeling a small sense of daring.

“Yes, even that,” he said, though his voice was tinged with some regret.  “Much as it pains me to have such projects under my roof, it cannot be avoided.  In order to maintain my competitive edge I have to turn out projects that the Pentagon will find useful.  In the beginning, I focused solely on the shield of military technology… body armor, new kinds of armored vehicles, medical technology… but soon, that wasn’t enough.  The men in political suits eventually wanted the swords to go with the shield.”

She nodded comprehendingly.  He didn’t need to say any more.  That was the way of all things in business: a two-way street.  One had to give as well as receive.  It was a constant tug-of-war where only politicians needed to see both sides of the coin at the same time. 

Good thing I decided to skip studying politics
, she thought.

But as she listened to Ian speak she felt herself mesmerized by him.  She had known men of power and wealth before, though never to Ian’s level.  And each of them had had one thing in common: they were arrogant.  Plenty of times she had seen that such men believed themselves to be entitled because of their wealth and position, that they were better than everyone else for it.  And plenty, she knew, only sunk their money into ventures that promised a speedy and hardy payoff.  But Ian did not strike her as such a man.  Here he was, surrounded by scientists who were trying to rid the world of fleas upon domestic animals.  Yes, that sounded like a long-shot project, considering that Mother Nature was still running things on the planet.  Ian was simply trying to assert control over the place one home at a time.

And he
believed
in the work that his people did.  She found that just as amazing as her new employer.  There was more to her work when Ian spoke of it… she didn’t just believe it, she
felt
it. 

That was interesting too.  She learned, over the course of the first day, that Ian had a strange effect upon her.  That warm feeling in the air returned every time she was in close proximity to him, her heart rate accelerated, and the hairs on her arms seemed to stand on end as if he radiated some kind of electricity that made her skin tingle.  More than that she realized that his voice… his voice… there was something that was almost hypnotic about it. 

Are you sure it’s not just the accent?

She almost smiled at the inner voice in her head for the remark.  Yes, Ian most certainly held no small amount of appeal for his accent.  As well as his other features.  Even his looks were something hypnotic, she thought.  She had met other Englishmen in her time and plenty of them.  While she always found the accent appealing it was never any guarantee of charm.  But Ian… he seemed to pull off the whole package quite nicely.

She blushed at the thought.

By the time her second day began she learned more about her role as Ian’s attaché.  She wasn’t required to do much – if any – of the heavy lifting, so to speak.  Her duties were mostly mental and as Ian had said, he put a higher price on intelligence than the strength of one’s back.  But she learned quickly and easily that her daily function would be to follow Ian almost everywhere he went.  And her mind needed to be as sharp as a roomful of needles at every turn.  Oddly enough, she found that to be more tiring than any amount of physical labor and she understood why Ian had wanted such a person on his private staff.

She found that she didn’t mind that at all.

The only thing that she was required to carry at all was an industry tablet, courtesy of Ian’s labs and programmed with a smaller version of Mercy.  The device contained reports on all of the projects that Ian had the most interest in and where they were on their stages of development.  It also contained a calendar that measured time down to the second for meetings or calls that Ian was scheduled to take or make and they ranged from the leaders of different countries to his private cook to tell what he wanted for lunch.  The most difficult – and irritating – thing about her tablet was that it contained a real-time feed of Madison Tech’s stock market courses.  Ian would occasionally ask her how one particular portion of his stock was doing while simultaneously telling her to sell others. 

Her role in keeping track of such things was pretty standard: she was to remind him fifteen minutes in advance of every call or meeting, usually because he wanted a chance to clean up and make himself as presentable as possible.  She also had to look him over before every call and look for imperfections in his clothing or appearance.  She didn’t mind that at all either.

She also learned – and quickly – the names of everyone within the company that she should have been familiar with.  The head of security… the people within the HR department… team leads… Ian’s private cook… the members of the board… the lead of the financial department… and others.  It was a lot to take in, but she felt comfortable with it as the day wore on. 

Ian also had such people divided into two separate groups.  His business list and his short list of contacts.  The former were calls or meetings that had to clear her first and by his consent alone, he could refuse any of his business contacts if he were so inclined and reschedule any time he liked.  But those on his short list that he would speak to at any given time.

“There are only two on that list at present,” he told her as they walked, “yourself and Emir.”

The name struck a nerve.  “Emir… your cook?”

He nodded.  “Yes… the man is a magical.  If he were a genie I would say that the kitchen is his lamp.  I procured his services from a very wealthy Egyptian minister.  I’ve learned that Emir loves his tasks… and to keep him waiting results in poor culinary art.  And I value his art, very much.”

She gave it no further thought, but was delighted to be on the short list.

By the end of her third day she felt that she was learning the more important parts of her job-related tasks.  But just before the end of her third day on the job, Ian summoned her and told her that she had to learn about the personal – and more private – aspects of her work.

“There were times in every day that I prefer not to do anything business related,” he said as they walked through his private living level, “when I need a chance to relax… to unwind all my knots, if you will.”  He led them to a pair of large wooden doors that were just down the hall from his sky office.  It was marked with a symbol that she couldn’t read, but recognized it as Tibetan. 

“It means ‘sanctuary’, that,” Ian explained as he showed her the door. 

“A holy room?” she ventured.

He lightly shrugged, “In a manner of speaking… and only to me, at any rate.”  He put his hand on the door and rested his weight against it.  “When you arrived you were given an ID chit in your skin.”

She rubbed at the space between her thumb and index finger on her right hand.  “I remember.”

“Touch this door,” he told her.

She was uncertain as to why he wanted this, but she obeyed.  She reached out to touch the sanctuary door.  Before her skin touched the wood however, a strange sensation coursed through the palm of her hand.  She felt a sudden and stinging pain, as if she had been the victim of one of those novelty electric shock gags, but the pain fled almost as quickly as it had come, but a tingling sensation and an unpleasant one at that, remained.