Taken - A Gangster Stepbrother Romance (19 page)

Eight

              “You know, people think the more money you have, the better resources you’d clearly have to make yourself disappear. But it’s the opposite. The poorer you are, the more obscure you can make yourself. It’s like dropping a needle into a big fucking haystack.”

              Julian sighed. “Paulson, is that your way of telling me you have nothing new to report?”

              He turned around to watch Cora speak with someone in the hangar. They had just landed in a private airstrip just outside Paris.

              It was 2 AM and still dark. Julian had paused by the jet when Paulson’s call had come in. He had motioned for Cora to go ahead. Until he knew more about the little pixie, he didn’t want her to know just yet about his search. It was too personal to reveal to just anybody.

              Paulson’s husky laugh crackled through the phone. “I found a trail of a Gloria Judson traveling through Utah and into Nevada. In Nevada the trail kind of deadends for a while. I think they set up shop near Las Vegas.”

              Julian felt his heart stop and his throat clench. He had never heard this before. Montgomery had only given him information about them that ended in Florida, near Miami, before losing their trail. Paulson had confirmed the Miami details last week. But this—Utah, Las Vegas—this was all new information.

              “And?” Julian demanded, hungry for more. So Gloria had managed to schlep Karen all the way to Nevada. Las Vegas seemed like a place that would suit Gloria’s personality. How long did they stay there? What did Gloria do to make a living? Who took care of Karen? Where did she go to school?

              “That’s it, for now,” Paulson’s gruff voice said plainly. “It ends there and I can’t seem to pick them up anywhere afterwards. I’m still snooping around Las Vegas and I think I have some leads that might take me north towards Carson City. I’ll let you know soon.”

              Julian sighed aggrievedly. The little taste of information had driven him mad for more. “Fine then. Send any expense receipts to Trisha.” With that, he snapped his phone closed and headed towards the hangar where Cora and a private car waited.

              “Do you speak Spanish?” Julian suddenly asked.

              Cora startled in her seat. She turned away from the tinted car window towards the tall CEO sitting next to her. His long legs were stretched out in front of him in a deceptively lazy pose. But Cora wasn’t fooled. She could feel a kind of restrained energy crackling around him.

              Since the phone call he had answered at the airstrip, Julian had been incredibly quiet. Their ride so far had been one of complete silence. Cora had just been relieved to make it to Paris in one piece.

              She had been terrified to use her forged passport for the first time in years. But with the name of Julian Benedict behind her, hardly any eyebrows had been raised and she had flown in the luxury of a private jet without any problems.

              “Yes, I speak Spanish fluently,” Cora replied. She wondered what kind of call he must’ve received earlier to have put such an odd dampening on his mood.

              “Any French?” he asked again curtly. His focused gaze was set straight ahead. If he hadn’t asked his second question, Cora wouldn’t have known if he was speaking to her or the driver.

              Cora shook her head. “No French, I’m afraid.”

              “Did you learn Spanish at home or in school?” Julian asked in that same abrupt manner. It was then that Cora realized with sudden clarity that the man was trying to distract himself. Whatever the phone call had been about, it couldn’t have been anything pleasant. The man seemed desperate for any kind of distraction.

              “At home,” Cora said with more confidence, now that she knew what was expected of her. “I grew up in Mexico.”

              Julian looked surprised and turned his head towards her. Cora felt her breath stop in her throat as she felt the full weight of his gaze upon her. And sitting so cozily next to the man in the car didn’t help either.

              “When did you come to the States? Your English is impeccable,” he said.

              Cora gave a small smile. She thought back to that fake passport burning a whole in her purse. She’d have to tread carefully here. “I came to the States about six years ago. I spent about two years in Arizona hammering out my English before heading to New York.”

              Julian was silent as he soaked in the information. “And your family is still in Mexico?”

              Cora thought back to her mother. She had yet to disassociate the image of her mother with the smell of booze. “As far as I know.”

              Julian raised a brow. “That’s an odd way to say you keep in touch with your family.”

              Cora huffed a small laugh. “I guess that’s because I
don’t
stay in touch with my family. Since coming to the States, I’ve basically been on my own.”

              There was another beat of silence.

              Cora could see that Julian was still tense. His shoulders looked so stiff, Cora was sure a bodybuilder could easily balance on them. She felt a bit sorry for him. It must be such a drain on him to be a successful CEO and businessman at such a young age. He was barely over thirty. And yet the man was held in esteem as part of the top echelon of business acumen.

              “Do
you
have a lot of family, sir?” she asked, trying to see if she could ease whatever it was that was distressing him.

              The change was immediate. Julian sat up in his seat, bringing him to his fullest height. His broad shoulders and long legs suddenly seemed to overwhelm the vehicle. And his dark eyes nearly blackened in the darkness of early morning, making Cora shudder involuntarily.

              “No, I don’t,” he said, his voice icy and clipped. “And I’d appreciate your interests remain within the professional sphere.”

              Cora opened her mouth, shocked at the sudden cold turn. But before she could figure out any form of an apology, the car pulled to a gentle stop.

              “We’ve arrived at the hotel,
monsieur
,” the driver replied, politely neutral.

              Julian opened the door. “Good night, Miss Rámon,” he said as he walked off into the marbled lobby.

Nine

              Cora pulled at her blouse as she watched the glass elevator doors open. A private driver had driven her to a tall office within central Paris at 9 AM. She was greeted by the executive assistant of the London office’s vice president. After verifying schedules and meetings, Cora was directed to the 45
th
floor where the first meeting of the day would be held at 10 AM.

              She looked down at her watch. 9:45 AM. Julian Benedict liked to be early for every meeting. He wanted to be able to assess a situation or client prior to sitting down to the negotiating table.

              Cora felt her pulse race as she watched the elevator doors open. She had tossed and turned all night. Although Julian had set her up in a beautiful suite in the same luxury hotel he was staying at, Cora felt like she had slept in a beanbag full of straw.

              Of course the man had been ridiculously unfair to her. After all, he had asked her questions about
her
family and background. So it was ridiculous for him to demand
she
remain professional within their relationship when he had been quite inquisitive about her personal life.

              Yet no matter how ridiculous his anger had been, it had been genuine anger. And Cora was upset that she had caused that.

              She never wanted an employer to be angry with her but she particularly didn’t want Julian to be angry with her. Although she hadn’t known the man long, she could see that he was a man beset with burdens. She couldn’t yet figure out if these were all professional burdens or personal burdens—

              Cora shook her head. No, she knew
now
. After last night’s reaction, he must have some personal burdens that cause him pain and anger and even guilt. She didn’t know what she could do to make things right.

              She had considered calling Trisha for advice but was worried she would be admonished for prying. Although a reserved person, Trisha was clearly very protective over her employer. No, it was better she figured out for herself how to make the situation right.

              Just as she was mentally drafting an apology, the elevator doors opened and Julian stepped out. Dressed in a dark charcoal suit with a slim navy tie, he looked like a caged jaguar. He was a wild animal that could dress the part of a civilized man yet could barely hide the primal rawness that lurked just beneath the surface.

              Quickly, Cora rushed to meet him, her folders and notepad in hand. “Mr. Benedict, I wanted to apolo—”

              “Has Devons arrived?” Julian interrupted, walking at a swift pace towards the meeting room at the end of the hall.

              “Yes, sir. And so have Mr. Martin and Abrams. They’re all waiting inside,” Cora said hurriedly, trying to keep pace with him. “But before you go in, sir, I just wanted to—”

              “I want you to change the meeting with the Japanese rep from one o’clock to two. And I want to cancel with Klaus. Push him to tomorrow afternoon. I don’t want any meetings tonight after eight.”

              Cora quickly took notes of his requests. But before she could make another attempt at apologizing, Julian opened the meeting room doors, greeting the waiting men.

              And for the rest of the day, Cora found herself running between meetings, confirming times and writing emails while also taking careful notes. There were literally no moments of privacy between them. If they weren’t in a meeting, they were rushing off towards one with both of them on the phone dealing with their own set of responsibilities.

              Every time Julian’s aloof and distant gaze fell upon her, she felt miserable inside. Clearly whatever intimacy Julian shared with Trisha, he would not be sharing with her. She had so envied not only Trisha’s respectable load of responsibilities but also her closeness with her employer. Cora had secretly hoped the day that she would be such an assistant was not far off.

              But with every clipped word and dispassionate gaze, Cora realized that whatever chances there had been were now completely gone.

              By about four o’clock, Cora found herself at another office building in Paris. This one was much more sleek with cool neutral colors and lots of metal accents.

              It wasn’t quite Cora’s style but she appreciated its modernity. They were there for Julian to meet with Francois Budoin, the fashion conglomerate of Europe. He owned nearly every luxury brand available. Francois was a very private man and preferred small, private meetings. So after a quick round of introductions, Julian entered Francois’s office alone, leaving Cora to explore the roomy executive floor.

              After spending most of the day running around in heels, Cora just wanted a comfy chair to relax in. But looking around, all the seats were an odd assortment of metal benches or stools that looked more uncomfortable than standing in heels. So with no other choice but to walk around, Cora sighed and walked.

              As she casually strolled, enjoying the short respite from incessant calls and voices, a flash of color caught the corner of her eyes. And it only caught her attention because of all the cool grayness in the building. Cora turned and gasped.

              It was a beautifully vibrant painting of blue irises. Set against a saturated yellow background, the thick blue and purple paint strokes shaped the delicate petals. The colors were almost loud yet the wilting flowers looked so gentle and limp. The colors were so vivid, the painting almost seemed to glow within the cold and gray office.

              Cora almost wanted to grab the flowers and inhale their scent. She wanted to rub each thickly painted petal. The heaviness of the paint against the delicate nature of its subject made Cora feel an oddly sad juxtaposition as she gazed upon the painting.

              Next to the painting was a small metal plaque reading, “
Irises,
Vincent Van Gogh 1890.”

              “Ah, your assistant has good taste, I see!” an accented voice boomed from the left of her.

              Cora quickly spun around on her heel. Julian and Francois were exiting his office. The older French man beamed at Cora as he gestured towards the painting. “Does the
mademoiselle
have a liking for Van Gogh?” he asked, his voice warm and rich.

              Cora blushed and shook her head. “I just appreciate how beautiful it is,” she murmured quietly. She peeked up through her lashes at Julian. He gave her a quizzical look.
He must think me ignorant and foolish
, Cora thought miserably. Quickly, she stepped away from the painting and bid Francois goodbye.

              As they got back into the car, Julian instructed the driver back to the hotel. “I’ll need to change for dinner. And you can take a rest,” Julian said, not looking up from his phone as he checked his messages. The dinner tonight was primarily a meeting dressed up with exquisite food. But it was a meeting nonetheless and Cora wouldn’t be needed for it. “But be ready by eight to go out again.”

              Cora was confused. “There’s nothing scheduled though, Mr. Benedict. You said you didn’t want anything after—”

              Julian nodded. “I remember what I said,” he replied shortly. The car pulled up to the hotel. As he got out, he called over his shoulder, “Be ready by eight.”