The Secrets of Their Souls (3 page)

“I agree, actually, but I want to see the apartments and your full concepts first. You are aware, if I approve this, that it will be the most expensive design fit-out Mason has ever done?”

“Good. I love to set a new record.”

She was his kind of woman and an image of her back up against the elevator wall, pinned up by his body flashed in his mind. His fingers gently caressed his jawline and her eyes followed them. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

Zahra studied him, but she didn’t respond. What was she thinking? He would kill to know.

Spectacular. 4 bedroom, 4.5 bathroom with an expected listing price of $46 million. They walked through the penthouse with not an arm’s length between them. The sun was setting, and the building was dim and full of shadows.

“Thoughts?” Zahra asked.

He sighed. “I’m not sure… this development will either be incredible or a fucking disaster. Would you buy this apartment?”

Her salary was impressive but did not warrant buying such an apartment. Still, she entertained the ridiculous notion like a good sport. “Well, supposing Mason were giving me a substantial raise, I would actually invest my hard-earned cash into this penthouse. I think it pushes the boundaries without being gimmicky. Future resale should be strong.” She rocked on her heels, “But, the real question is, are
you
going to buy this apartment?”

He pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and they stood close, far too close. “No, I’m not going to buy the penthouse. I might buy an apartment a few floors down though, depending on how long I’m going to be in New York.”

She stepped back and cleared her throat. “And what does that depend on?”

“How efficiently Mason is operating, the profit it is generating… things of that nature,” his voice was lower than he’d intended.

“I see.” She looked down at the concrete floor and he resisted the urge to lift her chin back up, forcing her to look at him.

She was so tempting and he could so easily lose himself in her but the objective was to get inside her head, not in her bed. He wanted to know why he had reacted that way when he’d seen her and he would not let it go until he had the answer.

“Good.” Curtly, he put his hands back in to his pockets and began to walk. “Let’s go, I want to see a few more apartments before I need to be back in the office.” He was done playing games for the evening.

Hours later, she still occupied his every thought. The only sound in Mason Corp. at 1:00 a.m. was the quiet humming of his computer. Jayce sat at his desk, as still and silent as a marble statue. For Jayce, women served only as tools, as a release from his high-pressure career. He wanted nothing else from them and he gave them nothing in return. But Zahra was different—he wanted to get to know her, everything about her. Those sparkling green eyes were irresistible and even now, just thinking about her, his body felt alive. A cocktail of lust and frustration swirled in his mind and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He would solve the mystery that was Zahra Foster but not tonight. No, right now he needed to focus so he picked up an engineering report and got on with his work. The number of projects Mason had in development was sheer insanity and he would never have approved that scale of growth. Expanding too quickly could end up killing the entire company if they didn’t get it right, and that made him very nervous. Jayce had convinced his father that Mason Corp. was a good buy and he had spent over a year in negotiations before securing the deal. He had a huge responsibility to his father to make this acquisition a success. It was ambitious but he could do it if he worked hard, if he utilized every second. He could not afford any distractions, but his intuition told him Zahra Foster was going to be the greatest distraction of his life.

One foot in front of the other, that was her only focus. Zahra’s feet pounded on the treadmill in a dire attempt to eliminate last night’s dream from her mind. It was the same girl again, acting out another horrific crime in a chilling manner that was so cold, so lacking reverence for human life.

Mostly her dreams were about this same girl. And the dreams were so real that she experienced every emotion as if she were in the girl’s body, as if she were the girl herself. But sometimes it was a different person, in another era, of another race. Sometimes the person was kinder, other times they were just as heinous with the only difference being the body, the vehicle of life. And then sometimes the dreams were merely observatory; she didn’t appear to be in any of the bodies but rather watching the events unfold like a Broadway show. These were the least anguishing of the repertoire.

Running had become her method of survival—it kept her sane, pushing the dreams into some distant and forgotten realm. Zahra figured if she tortured her body instead of her mind, she had somewhere else to focus the pain. She turned up the volume on her iPhone, further drowning out her thoughts. Her chest burned as her lungs grappled for more air and her legs felt like lead but she pushed on—she was not getting off the treadmill until she hit 15 miles. Two miles to go. One by one other residents dragged their sorry asses into the gym, but for the first few hours she had been alone. No one else was messed up enough to be running at 3:30 a.m.

After hitting her mark and walking back to her apartment, Zahra showered and then fixed a substantial breakfast, her body requiring increasing quantities of fuel to keep up with the miles she was tracking. If her dreams continued to accelerate at this pace, both in frequency and intensity, she’d have to find another form of therapy—there was only so much torture her legs could withstand. Even on the nights when she didn’t dream, or she couldn’t remember her dream, she rarely awoke refreshed. Zahra had a newfangled empathy for insomniacs.
There is a good reason why sleep deprivation is used as a torture technique
, she thought.
It is brutal
.

Sitting at her dining table, Zahra checked her email while she drank a protein smoothie and consumed a large bowl of oatmeal, and then chased it all down with a coffee. Now feeling more like a human being and less like a robot, she planned out her day, scheduling in the designer visits. She was relieved to be away from the Mason headquarters—she did not want to see Jayce Tohmatsu today. Zahra couldn’t work him out and that left her reeling. He never did what she expected him to and she’d have better luck rolling a dice and choosing the number it would land on than trying to guess what was going to come out of his mouth next. He was enigmatic and intriguing, and it was best if she stayed far, far away from him. And for the next few days, that would be easy.

Zahra scanned the crowded restaurant looking for a familiar set of eyes. She spotted her against the red brick wall and moved in that direction, squeezing between the tightly packed tables.

“When did The Gallery get so busy?!”

Maya, her design-school friend, stood and hugged her. “I know, right? Remember the old days when we were the only cool ones in here?” Her arm of bangles jingled as she moved.

Zahra laughed. “I don’t think we were cool, which is why we were the only ones in here, but anyway—good for them. How are you?”

Maya was the ultimate modern hippie; a brilliant interior designer who traveled the world, sourcing for pieces with that unique bohemian edge. There was nothing Maya loved more than to get lost in the secluded corners of the globe and then haul back her treasured finds. And Maya was an aficionado when it came to importing—there was nothing too large, too heavy or too fragile for this girl; one way or another she could get it back to New York City. Zahra was more on the reserved side. She liked her glass box and her local designers, but she loved Maya’s stories.

“I’m fabulous. I’m so glad you called, I’m leaving for Morocco tomorrow morning for three weeks.” She tilted one shoulder forward seductively. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“There is no way I can take leave right now. Jayce Tohmatsu has started and Church Street is in full throttle… I’m lucky to even be at lunch right now.”

Maya clasped her hands together. “Yes, that’s right—what’s he like?”

“He’s everything he should not be and he’s nothing like I expected,” Zahra said, shaking the image of him out of her head.

“That’s what you get for stereotyping people, Zahra.”

“Yes, yes, Jemma has already reprimanded me for my judgmental behavior, so you can lay off. Anyway, enough about me, what is happening with you?”

She listened on, fascinated. Their lives were changing, Zahra realized, each one of her friends ready to settle down, thinking about marriage and children—two things that were not high on her list. Her career had always been number one and she’d made many sacrifices for it. She’d watched her parents work extremely hard to give their daughters the best education they could afford and she felt some sense of responsibility to honor that by being successful. But it was more than just that; it was an inner guide, a drive that was relentless, a need to do something impactful in this world and she couldn’t imagine living her life any other way. She wasn’t sure if this would eventually destroy some friendships, not intentionally, but humans do tend to gravitate toward those that they have things in common with. Could two friends with completely different lifestyles and priorities remain close? She wasn’t sure, but she knew that wanting to know what cannot be known was a painful experience. She knew this because she found herself doing it constantly, always asking questions and never having the answers. One day she was going to drive herself crazy if she didn’t learn just to let things be.

The waitress brought out their meals and Zahra devoured her pasta.

“Hungry?” Maya laughed, only half way through eating the same dish.

“Mm, I think I’m going to order something else,” she said, browsing the menu.

“Jesus, are you pregnant?”

Zahra put the menu down, rolling her eyes. “Yes, the postman knocked me up. Actually, I’ve been running a lot, trying to get fit…” Another lie. And with each lie it got a little easier, it ate at her a little less.
I’m going to turn into a compulsive liar
, Zahra realized.

“Oh, the pregnancy thing would have been so much more fun! I hate running, don’t you get bored?”

Zahra wished that she did get bored but she was too busy kicking her dreams out of her mind for idleness to set in. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “I like it, I turn up the music and forget all about the world. It’s like moving meditation.”

“Yeah, I like to sit on my ass while I meditate.” Maya ate her penne piece by piece. She might have looked like a hipster, but she ate like a princess.

Zahra giggled. She called over the waitress, ordered a smoothie and then watched on with food envy as Maya finished her meal. “I’m going to visit Eddie this afternoon. Have you seen him recently?”

“Yes! Oh, I love that guy. I meant to tell you, he’s designed these insane beds for a new project. Ask him to show you when you go in. They are peacock green velvet and they are magnificent.”

“I will. In fact,” Zahra said, her eyes on the time, “I should get this smoothie to go and head off or I’m going to be late. I’m stopping off at Doyle’s and then at Eddie’s. I’ll tell him you say hi.”

Zahra and Maya said their goodbyes, promising to catch up as soon as Maya returned from Morocco. Zahra knew that it wouldn’t happen that way, since their promises were always delayed a few weeks at least, but eventually they always found the time to get together.

Kicking off her heels, Zahra dumped her bag and folders on the hallway console and padded into her kitchen in search of a cool drink to ease her parched throat. She had walked miles today, in stilettos, in the warm summer heat. Tomorrow she would wear flats, one of the few pairs that she owned.

When the day’s loose ends were tied up, her team checked in with, and her emails replied to, she sat down on the couch and flicked through the channels for something remotely interesting to watch. After three rounds and not a single show that was able to capture her attention, Zahra resorted to some Internet shopping instead. She needed a new bathing suit for her upcoming trip to Puerto Rico and she needed a few new dresses for work. She browsed two of her favorite stores, selected the items, hit checkout and when that was done it was still only 9:30 p.m. Jemma was right; she did need to get a life.

Fearing the nightmares that accompanied her sleep, Zahra made a concerted effort to delay her bedtime until nearly midnight, which gave her a few more hours to kill. She went back to her favorite room of the house, the kitchen, and made her lunch for tomorrow and wasted time by de-cluttering a few drawers and giving her blender a solid clean. The problem with performing such basic tasks was that it gave the mind a chance to roam. She found herself thinking of Jayce. He would no doubt still be at work, sitting on the top floor of Castle de Mason. She doubted he ever left before midnight and she suspected that he was in not long after sunrise. He was young to be in that position, and the pressure on him was mountainous.
He doesn’t seem like a guy who would lose his cool easily though
, Zahra thought.

When there wasn’t another item to clean, or another drawer to sift through, Zahra went back to her computer, seeking solace in her work. She might not have a life but she had a damn good career that she loved.

Queen Keres sat on her golden throne above the thousands of people lining the streets. Some were hungry for a show and others cast down their eyes, but they were all in attendance. Fear had a special way of making people follow orders, and Keres was the Queen of Fear.

I stood on the edge of the stage in my gown. Every assassin had a different color: mine was red. Blood red. Well suited, given my love for the thick, oozing liquid. The first time I had tasted blood it had been that of my father. He had deserved it and more, and I was glad that he was dead. I was also glad that it had been my hand that had delivered it to him.

“Today, you shall all see what happens when you defy me and the laws of this Kingdom.” All eyes lifted to obey the queen. “Today, you will see the punishment for stealing from the Capital.”