His Absolute Assignment - Elise's Love Story: The Billionaire's Continuum (#1) (A Contemporary Romance Novel) (20 page)

And almost everyone else had called out sick.  The weather reports claimed a record-breaking seventy-eight inches and the news anchors kept going on and on about how this hadn't happened since 1921 in Silver Lake, Colorado.  Apparently back then they received seventy-six inches in twenty four hours.

And on, and on, and on.  Numbers.  Forever.

I liked the news as much as the next person, but didn't they always exaggerate the weather?  It was hard to tell sometimes.  When they called for rain, it didn't rain.  Sun begot rain, and snow became a wintry mix, and nothing ever truly turned out like it was supposed to.

That's what I thought, anyways.  Staring at the snow now, I reconsidered my opinion.

"Hey, Elise?"

I turned, eyes glazed from watching the snow fall.  "Yes, Margaret?"

"Do you mind if I take off early... I mean, it's just you and me, you know?  And there's no one here.  Even Rob didn't come in, so..."

I shrugged. "I guess. Sure. I won't say anything."

"Maybe you should leave, too?" she added. "I doubt anyone's going to show up. It's getting kind of bad out there."

I worked in the library every weekday after my college courses, but those were canceled for today.  Usually my shifts ended at nine in the evening.  Currently it was four o' clock.

"I can't," I said. "Someone has to close down, right?"

Margaret looked at me and sighed. "You're always like this, you know? I don't understand it. I know you like libraries, but aren't you taking the call of duty too far?  Even
Rob
didn't come in and he runs the place."

I laughed. "His daughter just had a baby!  He took the whole week off. Otherwise I bet he would've come in no matter what."

"Maybe..."  She didn't sound convinced.  "Just be careful, alright?  It's getting pretty bad out there."

"I can see that," I said, staring pointedly out a window again.  "I'm sure it'll stop soon."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Margaret grabbed her coat and hat and gloves from a cubby behind the library counter and bundled herself up.  "Well, ta-ta, Miss Tanner!"

"Pip-pip, cheerio," I said in reply, grinning.  Neither of us was English, and I doubted English people even said half the things we said to one another, but it sounded fancy sometimes.  Or different, at least.

Margaret opened the door to the library, sending the bell above it a tinkling fit.  A rush of harsh wind blew inside, bringing a gust of snow with it, and she hurried through it and shut the door hard behind her.  I watched her leave, gazing off into the winter wonderland long after I lost sight of her.

And now what?  I was alone in the library in the middle of a supposedly record-breaking snowstorm.

I brought up the weather on the library computer and scanned through the forecast.  Seventy-eight inches, running through until late tomorrow afternoon.  Except now it was even worse, apparently. The snow
might
stop, but another blizzard was headed this way and could keep the city blanketed in white for another day or two after.

Unfortunately, as a little ticker scrolling across the monitor's screen stated, it was unlikely we'd beat out the "one storm" record of one-hundred-eighty-nine inches that happened during 1959 in Shasta Ski Bowl, California.  Oh, yes, I thought, how unfortunate.  Were they serious?

Seventy-eight seemed like plenty to me.

I checked my e-mail while I was at it.  Nothing.  Nothing.  Spam.  And an invitation to a Snowed-In party from the local sorority.  They wanted to formally invite everyone to their sorority house during the storm for a party.  If the power went out, they had plenty of food and beverages to last for the weekend, plus candles, blankets, and more.  Plus, it said, with so many people in one place, it'd be easy to find a cuddle partner to keep warm.  Or more.

More.  Yes.  Ugh!

I groaned thinking about it. Why did most college people have this mindset?  Granted, I was older than most of my classmates, and going for my MFA, but still.  Yes, let's just all act like it's the end of the world, wait for the power to go out, and find some thinly veiled excuse to fuck someone's brains out.

Ick.

I disliked all of this.  I just wanted to go to class, finish my coursework, get my degree and...

And then what?  I didn't know.  What use was a MFA in Creative Writing with a specialization in fiction?  I could write, and I did write, but sometimes it seemed so hard.  How did anyone get their foot in the door?  Do I just... write?  I'd taken some classes discussing this exact thing, sort of, but they left me more baffled than before.  Quite a feat, too, considering I had exceptional grades so far.  But I digress...

I should do my homework, that's what I should do.  Except I decided to check YouTube quickly, because who would stop me?  Rob hated people using the computers for personal use, but Rob wasn't here, and no one else was here, and no one needed the computers for non-personal use, so...

I scanned the front page trying to find some-thing interesting to watch before buckling down and studying. Nothing, nothing, nothing. My finger twitched, accidentally clicking on a video. On the screen, wearing a crisp dark suit with a silver tie stood Lucent Storme.

Lucent, the description of the video said, was the newest Director of Public Relations for Landseer Enterprises.  He had taken over for Solomon Royce who was involved in some severe scandals during the middle of last year.  The description went on to describe all this, then more, and I gave up reading and just watched the video after that.

Lucent Storme talked about the future of Landseer Enterprises and how he'd do his best to keep everything crystal clear.  Public relations should be about the public and continually fostering positive regard, not the archaic practice of diffusing bad situations when they arose and acting oblivious to general interest otherwise.

Lucent Storme sure could talk, I thought.  He said a lot of words and they sounded nice, but was that really it?

I didn't like him.  Not just because of the shady look he had.  Yes, he wore dressy clothes and looked nice.  And, yes, he looked really nice.  Lucent was handsome, alright?  I knew this, and I also knew he'd never look twice at someone like me, so I didn't know how he could talk about continually fostering positive regard.  It sounded great in theory, but it just didn't work.  People like him never associated with people like me.

The library was only a few blocks away from Landseer Tower and I never saw him or Asher Landseer, or anyone like them.  I saw Jessika once, Asher's new wife after his mutually agreed upon divorce(My God what a disaster that sounded like!  The tabloids were abuzz after it happened.  Mutually agreed upon after the man she was having an affair with tried to kill her husband?  I really hope he never considered staying with her afterwards, anyways).

Jessika was supposedly normal, but I doubted it.  She looked nothing like any normal person I'd seen.  What had she done before marrying Asher?  Well, nothing.  She graduated from college, took on small jobs, and then met him, and that's it.

Fairytales and fantasies, really.  Except what use would someone like Asher Landseer have with a girl like that?

There were rumors about what Lucent Storme looked for in a woman, though.  He was into the darker sides of sexuality.  At least according to the common gossip of the day.  I shouldn't involve myself in that, but I currently had little social life to speak of(quite evident by my situation during this record-breaking snow-storm), and I enjoyed thinking about it.

For creative reasons.  I was majoring in Creative Writing afterall.

The video finished and a list of other recommended videos popped up. I clicked out of the internet browser, forcing myself to begin committing to my studies. Grabbing my book bag from behind the library counter, I hefted it up and pulled out one of my books. I needed to read chapters 3 through 8 by Monday, then write a five page paper.

Why read behind the counter, though? That's what I usually did just in case someone came in and needed help.  Rob hated people using the computers, but he loved for us to read back here.  It made us seem more bookish, he said.  Librarians reading books?  Who knew?

I decided not to spend more time back here than necessary, though. I had the entire library at my disposal, and while it wasn't the most up to date place ever, I liked it here.

I loved it, actually. I knew this was kind of dumb, and the job didn't even pay very well, but I loved it here.  Margaret probably thought I didn't want to leave in case Rob found out, but that wasn't it.  I didn't want to leave because I didn't want to leave.

I wanted a library one day, some massive, expansive affair of my own.  In my giant house.  Or maybe the library was my house?  I'd set up a dining table in the center and put my bedroom on the second floor in between squared off shelves.  The bathroom could be the only regular room in the house, and everything else should be creatively crafted using bookshelves and ladders, scaffolding, steps, nooks, crannies, hideaways, this and that, books.  Everything.

I waltzed through the library, imagining this was that.  My feet danced lightly across the thick carpets and I scurried over to the children's section.  The children's section had beanbags around a small stage area where local authors came and read stories now and again.  Or librarians did otherwise.  I never read a story.  I liked children, but I got nervous speaking in groups.

Silly, really, because right now I was dancing through the library as if I were some elegant lady of well-renown, social and graceful and witty beyond belief.  I'd say some cunning joke and the entire room around me would laugh.  Oh, yes.

Not really.

I plopped into a bean bag and opened my book to chapter 3.  Skimming through the introduction, I settled into the meat of it.  This wasn't a fun book, though.  There were no dashing heroes and ladies of well-renown.  No social grace and ballroom dances or fancy dinners.  No romance, no high adventure.  No love; lost, forgotten, or otherwise.

No, it was a school book, and on any other day I'd read it and study and force myself into it no matter what, but on this snowy, lonely day, I soon found myself drifting off to sleep.

I awoke, or I thought I did, and saw a man.  He stood in front of me wearing a dark, crisp suit with black shoes and a grey tie.  Smirking, he looked down at me.  He stared at me, into me, and for a moment I felt anxious.

Then I realized I must not have woken up, because he was definitely Lucent Storme and why would he be in the library?  Or, for that matter, why was I dreaming of Lucent Storme?  A nightmare, probably.  Some dismal addition to my dreamworld meant to scare me awake. I'd find myself in a cold sweat upon returning to reality.  Was it snowing outside still?

Lazily, I turned to peer out one of the windows, ignoring the dream man in front of me.  Why I looked out a dream window, I didn't know, but, yes, it was still snowing.  The snow reached halfway up the windows now, and showed no signs of stopping.

The man in front of me cleared his throat.  "Hello," he said.  "Am I interrupting your nap?"

I yawned and stretched my arms above my head.  My book rested against my chest, pushing into my breasts as I arched my back.  When I brought my hands down, the book ended up resting just beneath my breasts, holding them up and putting on a show.  What did I care, though?  I was dreaming.

"Quiet little one, are you?"  Lucent stared at my breasts.  This, I thought, was how I should know he wasn't real.  "What if I were looking for a book?"

"I hardly think it necessary," I said, yawning once more, "to deal with figments of my imagination."

"Is that what I am?" he asked, raising one brow.  "I daresay this is news to me."

"I'm dreaming," I added. "I fell asleep in the library and I'm sure it's time to leave soon."

"Yes, well, don't count on that," he said.  "I was trying to leave, too, except there's no way out.  The subway system is shut down, my car is snowed in at the garage, and the taxi company laughed at me when I called for a cab.  I would've stayed where I was, but the damnable building has an automatic power shut off for the weekends and I don't relish wandering around in a dark office for the evening."

"What?" I asked, sleep drifting away from me.  Now that I thought about it, I didn't really feel like I was asleep.  And, while mostly clean, this man's suit had a few telltale signs of an outdoor snow adventure.  Damp, disheveled hair, too.

Tousled and handsome, close-cropped.  Lucent glared at me, eyes glimmering with some devilish recognition.  What did he see in me and why?

And...

"Oh my God," I said.  "You're Lucent Storme."

"A pleasure," he said, offering me a curt bow.  "And you are?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I just told you..."

"I don't understand.  I..."  My brain overloaded, forgetting how to function.

"We're surrounded by storefronts and office buildings, that, if you hadn't noticed, shut down for the day hours ago.  This was the only, and nearest, place with a light on, and the door was open.  There's nowhere else."

"We're trapped?" I asked.

He nodded.  "Quite."

"You're Lucent Storme," I muttered again.

I realized then that I was sitting on a bean bag in the children's section of the library, a book beneath my breasts, propping them up for prime viewing pleasure, with my skirt... with my skirt...

I jumped up and away from him, bouncing to my feet.  Pulling my skirt back down to my knees from its previous lascivious spot hiked high up my thigh, I tried to present myself with some appropriate appearance.

Lucent merely smirked at me.  "You know who I am, but who, might I ask, are you?"

"Elise," I murmured, affectedly shy all of a sudden.  "Elise Tanner."

"A pleasure, Miss Tanner," he said, holding out his hand.

I took it, thinking he meant to shake my hand by way of introduction, but instead he grasped my fingertips and brought the back of my hand to his lips, kissing me lightly.

I froze, staring at him in shock.  His hand felt so warm and soft, almost sharp, like I shouldn't touch it for fear of hurting myself.  And his kiss on the back of my hand sent a sting running through my skin, a jolt like a static electric shock.