The Hunter (Orion the Hunter) (5 page)

It was the smell that I noticed first.  My office smelled just heavenly.  Wondering where the scent was coming from, I turned and my heart jumped as my eyes fell on the huge bouquet that was sitting on my desk.  There were so many different types of flowers in various shades of pink.  They were simply beautiful.  I didn’t need to wonder who had sent them so I didn‘t look for a card.  Only Angel would care enough to bother and only she had a key to my office to put them in here.  I snatched up the phone and called her, a huge smile on my face.  She answered on the third ring.  “Huh … hello?”

I felt guilty that I had obviously awoken her but I needed to thank her for the bouquet.  I was so touched by her supportive and generous gift.  It was just what I needed to clear my head and stop these silly thoughts about strangers.

“Thank you so much!” I shrieked down the phone.  “You are the best friend ever!” 

Her thoughtful gesture made me decide to forget about strangers and phantoms and concentrate on what was important.  Angel’s friendship was the most important thing in my life, with my newly fledged business a close second.  I silently vowed never to keep anything from her ever again - whether it was real or imagined.

Angel’s confused, sleepy voice interrupted my thoughts.  “Well thank you, but I have no idea why you are calling me, dragging me from slumber to thank me … oh, is this about last night?”

“Um no, this is about the your gorgeous, thoughtful gift,” I said quickly, wanting to steer the conversation away from that embarrassing topic, that I had pushed to the furthest recesses of my mind.  “Thank you, it means more than you know.”

There was silence for a second before Angel, sounding puzzled, said “What gift?”

“Oh, come on Angel.  Wake up, sleepyhead!” I urged in frustration.  “The flowers… in my office … on my desk.  They smell divine and it’s the most beautiful bouquet that I have ever seen.  I have no idea how you managed to sneak them in here, missy but I am just delighted that you did.  I am not going to get much work done this morning - I just want to stare at them.  Thank you so -”

“Um Issy - I have no idea what you are going on about.  I haven’t sent you any flowers, though I am now wishing that I had.  Not quite the best friend in the whole world now, am I?” Angel’s voice had grown quiet but then she almost shrieked.  “Well, come on … who
are
they from?  Is there a card?”

I grinned and reached over to the bouquet to investigate.  “Um, I can’t see one,” I muttered as I searched through the cellophane and satin ribbon.

“That’s weird,” said Angel.  “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” I confirmed.  “Nothing.  Nada.”

“I know!” she cried.  “Which florist are they from?  You could call them and ask.  They must have forgotten to include the card.”

I rifled through the layers again but I could find no way of identifying which florist had created the bouquet.  Angel was as perplexed as I was.

“Ohhhh, unless you have a secret admirer!” she shrieked. 

I jumped, not entirely sure that it was her loud shriek that had startled me.  My head whipped around to look behind me.  I wasn’t sure why.  It wasn’t a conscious decision but, as expected, my office was empty. 

“I know!  I know!” she said excitedly.  “Call down to the guard and ask him who delivered them.  Am I a genius or what?”

I couldn’t help but giggle at her words.  It was a good idea.  Someone would have had to unlock my door so the delivery guy could place the bouquet on my desk.

“Yeah, Einstein.  I will ask on my way out to lunch.” I said.  “Now I really must get some work done.”

“Are you kidding me?” Angel almost screamed down the phone.  “You can call down right now and then you can just call me straight back!  Or I will come down there and find out myself.”

“Argh!” I groaned, good naturedly.  “I can see that I am not going to be able to work in peace until I do.  I will call you back in ten.”

“Five!” she argued and I rolled my eyes as I agreed.

I quickly realized that I didn’t yet know the extension number of the guard’s station so I reluctantly left my office to take the elevator back down to the ground floor.   When the car arrived, I was relieved to find the car was empty.  I shook my head as I recalled walking up all of those stairs about an hour before - just to avoid the elevator. 

Within seconds, the doors opened out into the main entrance lobby.  I was pleased to see that it was almost deserted; I didn’t particularly want this conversation to be overhead.  I was a grown woman of 25, not a teenager, for goodness sake.  Cursing Angel under my breath, I made my way over to the guard’s station.

“Um, hi,” I said, suddenly feeling shy.  “I have had some flowers delivered to my office.  Did you happen to notice the name of the florist that delivered them?”

“Hello, Miss Prince,” he said as he furrowed his brow.  “I don’t know anything about a floral delivery.”

Oh well, it was a long shot anyway.  Why should he notice the name of the florist?
  He had far more important things to do, I was sure.

“When was this?” he asked, looking down at his desk.  “I can’t see a record of any deliveries for you or visitors for that matter”.

“Um, yesterday afternoon or early this morning,” I replied, surprised to realize that all deliveries and visitors to the building were logged in a large leather bound book, which the guard was studying intently.

“Then they aren’t from someone outside the building.  Nothing and nobody comes in here without being recorded.” he said with conviction, and I thought I caught a slightly amused expression on his face before his professional mask returned.

I thanked him for his assistance and then bolted back to my office.  My cheeks were as pink as the flowers.  Predictably, the phone was ringing.  I picked up the handset and before I could even speak, Angel’s voice squeaked into my ear, “Well?”

“It is a total mystery.  Apparently, all visitors and deliveries to the building are logged without fail and there is nothing in the log at all.” I told her.  “And thanks to your genius idea, I am sure the guard now thinks that I am sending myself flowers!”

Angel giggled, “Of course he doesn’t.  Why would you think that?”

“Because he said, and I quote ‘They aren’t from someone outside the building’,” I hissed at her.

“Oh come on, that doesn’t mean that he thinks that you sent them to yourself,” she said, and I knew that she was rolling her eyes.

“You didn’t see the amusement on his face when he said it! I could have died!” I grumbled.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Angel said suddenly.

“Yes, it means that you aren’t the best friend in the world
and
you’re not a genius?  No shit, Sherlock.” I said sarcastically but she didn’t appear to hear me.

“It means that they were sent from someone inside the building!” she exclaimed in delight.  “Now who have you been chatting up while you are on your man ban?”

I pushed the dark thought from my mind before it could settle and replied, indignantly, “Nobody.  I have only met a few people so far.  In fact, apart from my meeting yesterday, the only person I speak to is the guard.”

Angel’s squeal forced me to hold the handset away from my ear before my eardrum burst.  “No wonder the guard was amused when you asked him!  I bet they are from him.  Either that or you really do have a secret admirer.  Bring the bouquet home tonight - I can‘t wait to see it.”

I pushed the image of midnight blue eyes from my mind before it could fully form.  “I think it is more likely that they were delivered to the wrong office,” I said finally.  “Now, if you will excuse me, some of us need to earn a living.”

I busied myself with inspecting samples that I had ordered before beginning to draw up designs for my office.  In the rush to take up the lease before someone else took it, I hadn’t had time to make any changes to my office.  I knew that my office needed to showcase my design skills so I engrossed myself in that.  I was surprised to hear my stomach rumble and even more surprised when I realized that I had worked straight through lunch.  It was too late for lunch now, I decided.  I may as well go home and start dinner.  I was idly wondering what to cook when I lifted up the bouquet to take it home.  Anything to shut up Angel.  My eyes widened when I noticed a small envelope that had been lying underneath the bouquet.  My heart lurched and I almost dropped the flowers when I read the neat, bold handwriting.  It was addressed to Isobella. 

Nobody called me that, not since … I never used my full given name, it was always Issy.  The only references to that name were on my birth certificate, driver’s license and passport. 

I put down the bouquet and took a deep breath.  As I slowly expelled the air from my lungs, I reached forward and picked up the envelope.  With shaking hands, I opened it and withdrew the card.  It read … Congratulations Isobella.  P.S. I enjoyed watching your secret celebration.

“What the …” I said aloud.  My mind raced until it settled upon the embarrassing memory of my dream last night.  “Secret celebration …oh, god.  This is Travis’ idea of a joke.”

Thrusting the card into my bag and grabbing the flowers, I turned to leave.  I had my hand on the door handle when it occurred to me to wonder how Travis would have managed to get into the building unseen.  And how would he unlock my door?  The flowers were also undoubtedly expensive - that didn’t sound like Travis at all.  Did he know my real name?  I doubted that he did.

Sighing that the mystery was still unsolved after all, I stepped out into the corridor.  I was just about to put my key in the lock when I recalled a voice so deep and sexy that it was almost a growl.  “It’s the master key,” it said.  I froze as the visual memory popped into my head. 
He unlocked my door with the master key.  He has access to my office! If he has a master key, he must work in the building.

I forced my fingers to function and locked the door then I raced down the corridor, past the elevator and dashed down the stairwell, ignoring the continued protests of my feet.  No way could I face getting in the elevator.

I had intended to dash straight home but as I neared the revolving door, the guard stepped out from behind his desk and stood directly in my path.

“Wow, they are beautiful.  My wife would love them.  Did you find out where they were from?” he asked innocently.

“No such luck,” I forced myself to speak.  I was just about to sidestep past him when an idea formed in my mind.  “What is your name?” I asked him sweetly.

“Clark.  William Clark,” he said, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Clark,” I grinned.  “I hate being new.  There are so many people in this building and I am terrible at remembering names.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” he replied.  “That’s one of the reasons why I would hate to move on from here.”

“There’s someone whose name I can’t remember and I have seen him a couple of times this week and it is embarrassing.  I must learn his name.”  I said, carefully.

“Do you know which company he works for or which floor he is on?  Can you describe him?  I can try to help you put a name to the face if you like,” Clark said, as I’d hoped he would.

“No, I don’t know which company or which floor but I saw him near to my office on the 4
th
floor and again in the elevator when I came down from the 15
th
floor to mine,” I said eagerly.  “He has very dark brown hair that is almost black.  His eyes are deep blue …” I paused, searching for more descriptive words that I could utter aloud, as Clarke shook his head, looking blank.  “Oh and he was dressed all in black both times and his voice was very, very deep.”

Clark’s eyes fixed on mine and his mouth opened then closed again.  He shook his head slightly, obviously changing his mind about what he’d been about to say.

“What were you going to say?” I asked him sweetly.  “Do you know who he is?”