Three and a Half Weeks (33 page)

Somehow Ian
managed to anticipate the room I’d want and he reserved it earlier in the day so we get the one designed to look like
Rick’s Café Américain
.

The maître d
’ shows us to our room and then quietly exits, while our waiter enters to take our drink orders. Ian orders a bottle of white—a
Pinot Grigio
—to be served with dinner and a bottle of champagne to be chilled for afterward. Surely that means what I think it means.

Scanning the menu, I’m completely undecided as to what to order. I’m vacillating between three dishes and when I look up, Ian is watching me, amused.

“Shall I order for both of us, Ella?”

“Yes, thank you, Ian.”

The meal he orders is superb: a cold cucumber and dill soup, halibut with potato pave, and sautéed spinach. For dessert we have fresh berries with
crème fraîche
and…
Perrier Jouet
, chilled to perfection.

“Oh my God, if I ate like this every day I’d never fit into any of my clothes.”

Smiling, Ian feeds me a strawberry. “I like to see you eat well, Ella.”

“Mmm. Thank you for the delicious dinner and the sparkling company, most of all. I’m sorry if I upset you earlier. I just want to resolve this whole thing in my mind so I can put it behind me. Since Lucien was magically there in front of me, I figured it was a safe way to do it.”

Ian scoffs “Magically? He was stalking you, Ella.” He sighs, pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes.

He needs a haircut, I notice, and then try to give him my full attention. There’s something on his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally says, “I have something to share with you, too, Ella. I’m just not quite ready to do so. Will you be patient with me? I promise that soon I’ll explain everything to you, what’s been going on at Excalibur… and why I’ve been in frequent bad tempers of late.” His hand reaches across the table to cover mine and he squeezes. “Will you bear with me for a little while?”

“You mean you’re not always this grouchy? Well, that’s a relief,” I say, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. He smiles but just for a nanosecond so I know he wants me to be serious.

“Of course I will bear with you, Ian, but I definitely would like you to share with me. If I learned anything from my awful experience at Lucien’s, it’s that it’s far better to be honest with the people you care about… because you never know when you’re going to run out of time.”

He kisses my hand. “Hopefully we both have lots of time ahead of us… but you’re absolutely correct. I’m… working on it, Ella, on sharing, but it doesn’t come so easily to me.”

“Okay.” I pat his hand. “I’ll wait… if you promise to keep me occupied in the interim.” I flash him a leer.

He doesn’t take the bait, though. Instead, he rises off his chair and walks to mine, and without further preamble, drops to one knee and kisses my hand. Inwardly, I gasp loudly, nerves jangling like silver bangles on a hyperactive wrist. Outwardly I’m as serene as a mountain lake. He’s really going to do it and so traditionally too.

“I asked you to marry me earlier today but you resented my timing and told me to do it again when I was fully dressed and on bended knee. So here I am, Ariel. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife and partner forever? I’ll settle for nothing less.”

I brush that recalcitrant lock of hair off his adored face and then run my fingers down, lightly tracing his perfectly symmetrical features. “Yes, Ian. I will. Forever. I love you.”

From behind his back he produces a small cardboard box in the distinctive turquoise color of Tiffany’s, adorned with a white ribbon. We open it together, and inside is a small, black velvet case. He removes it, tosses the blue box onto the table, and flips open the hinge on the velvet case. Nestled inside in a bed of satin and velvet is the most magnificent diamond ring I’ve ever seen. The stone is large but tasteful and the setting so unique: it’s fringed by sapphires that form an inverted vee, showcasing the large diamond in the center. The ring itself is platinum. When he slips it on my finger, it somehow fits perfectly. I lean over and kiss him softly. “It is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen and I’m thrilled to wear it, Ian. Thrilled.”

In response, he offers me a smile that can light the night sky, and we kiss, a beautiful chaste kiss full of the promises to come. After we toast our engagement with hastily sipped champagne, Ian signals for the bill so we can go home and seal the deal in the way we like best. We take the bottle of bubbly and the rest of the strawberries with us at my insistence. I have plans of my own.

So, as of tonight, we are engaged to be married and life is just fine. It’s time I start moving my things back from Los Angeles.

The next morning I make three phone calls upon waking: the first to the lab to get my results. The results are unsurprising: yes, there was residual trace evidence of a drug, similar to Rohypnol, called ketamine present in my blood sample.

“Does that drug cause hallucinations, do you know?” I ask the lab tech.

“It can. Ketamine is a dissociative anesthetic and it’s called that because it tends to distort sights and sounds, and causes one to feel a detachment from reality. Hallucinations are one side effect of this drug.”

“I appreciate the information. I understand the full lab report was already mailed to me?”

“Yes, that’s correct. You should receive it in the next day or so. If you have any questions, please feel free to call again.”

“Thank you very much. Good day.”

I disconnect the call and spend the next five minutes staring into space. Lucien’s tale is starting to gain more traction with me. What I really want to know now is whether he’s really as innocent about BDSM as he made himself out to be—that would also bolster his story. I need to add Mo Jackson to my call list to find out how she knows LP but I’ll leave that enticing task to another day and time. Baby steps.

The second call is to Mariah and we make plans to have lunch the following day. I refrain from sharing my massively life-changing news because I want to tell her in person: from Archipelago salesgirl to Mrs. Ian Blackmon in five easy steps. Not too shabby.

The third and final call I place is to Maya St. Sauveur. I know I should just let it go but I cannot. I want to know if Lucien’s kidnapping saga is true. Why it matters anyway, I just don’t know.

She answers on the first ring. “Yes?”

“Ms. St. Sauveur?”

“Yes, speaking. Who’s calling please?”

“It’s Ariel Strong, Ms. Sauveur. Do you remember me?”

“Yes, Ella. Please call me Maya. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Maya. I’m calling you on something of a personal matter… I hope you don’t find it too intrusive but circumstances have necessitated me verifying information Lucien provided to me by way of an explanation.” Okay, I sound like a blithering idiot. Just ask the woman, Ella, in plain English.

“Lucien told me a story and I wondered if you could… would… offer any clarification regarding it?”

“What story?”

“About his being kidnapped at age five?”

A long pause ensues and I wait patiently. “Yes, it’s true. Did you doubt him? Because if you did, I completely understand. He is a pathological liar, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know, as a matter of fact. Lucien told me that two men, Lithuanian brothers, saved him and his father rewarded them with lifetime jobs.”

“Yes, well. My father wasn’t always the sharpest knife in the drawer despite his brilliance at making money. My mother always suspected those men were themselves behind the kidnapping. They were never exactly upstanding citizens of the world. My father, however, believed their story lock, stock, and barrel, as they say. He made them out to be heroes.”

“Lucien takes after his father in that way, living in his own little house of cards, Ella. He believes what suits him to believe and dismisses whatever doesn’t fit into his narrative.” There’s a pause on her end. “What exactly did he tell you and why?”

“
Just what I’ve told you.”

“Yes, it’s all true… except that he wasn’t held for days but hours. He likes to believe he was emotionally scarred for life but he only remembers what family members have told him. His memories are totally false.
” She pauses.

“What I’m not clear on is why he shared the story with you? I thought you were merely colleagues. Has that changed since last I saw you?”

“No,” I hurry to reassure her. “I had a… um… difficult night… with Lucien and he told me why he has those men in his employ. That’s the only reason.”

“Difficult? What happened?”

“I’m not exactly sure… mainly because I was drugged apparently. The drug had an extremely… deleterious effect on me. In short, I don’t know what actually happened and what I imagined to have happened.

“I see. Inas
much as his story is true, I still would caution you about believing anything Lucien says. He prevaricates just because he can, for no other reason. He can be extremely self-centered and he doesn’t seem to care how his actions affect other people.”

Again, she pauses. For a moment or two, I think the ca
ll dropped but then she speaks up again.

“Have you spoken to his former girlfriend, Ella?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“They were together for quite some time. She might shed some light on the situation for you.”

“Was their break-up acrimonious?”

She laughs coldly. “Only if you think your lover cheating on you is acrimonious. Lucien had met another woman and began two-timing the girl… Eliza, I believe her name is. I don’t know what happened with the new one but he was apparently head over heels for her.”

“Do you know what her name was?”

“I can’t remember offhand. It was something exotic, as I recall. Ah, it’s at the fringes of my memory but I can’t pin it down. It will come to me as soon as we disconnect, no doubt.”

I laugh in commiseration. “Yes, that’s usually how it works. Well, thank you so much for the information, Maya. I do so appreciate it.”

“Not at all, Ella. I liked you immediately and I knew my darling half-brother would be bad news for you one way or another. He usually is.”

“Yes, well, live and learn. Take care, Maya.”

“You, too, Ella. Goodbye.”

I hang up the phone, chewing my lip. After speaking with Maya St. Sauveur, I’m left with more questions than I started with and wondering if I should indeed call Eliza. Would Lara have any information about her? I’ll start with her. Scrolling through my address book in my phone, I find Lara’s number and am about to punch in the call when I get a chime alerting me to a text. I switch to the message screen.

It’s from Maya. It reads: I remembered her name! It’s Natasha.

Abandon All Hope Ye That Enter Here:

He wakes up at two, then three-thirty, and then again at 4:20. He just cannot get any rest; the stress mounts in his bloodstream like a cyanide drip, as the hippocampus in his brain secretes hormones triggering a fight or flight response.

This time it will be fight.

It is his looming four o’clock appointment that is the culprit. He hadn’t cancelled it. Instead, he’d decided to meet with the turncoat bitch and find out for once and for all what the hell it was all about.

Too early to go into the office, he tries to reach Daniel Butler—it’s later in New York. Shortly after first meeting Butler, he began to suspect the man has…
unique
… abilities, so why not make use of them, since Butler had made the offer? Of course, he could be entirely mistaken. Perhaps the sharp businessman is merely intuitive?

Butler answers on the third ring. “Yes?”

“Ian Blackmon here. Can you spare a minute?”

“I can. What’s going on?”

He tells him about Natasha as briefly as possible, ending with the appointment scheduled for later today. “Any thoughts?”

There’s a slight pause on the other end. “The fact that this is so personal explains a lot, Ian. My advice is to go ahead and meet with her. Can’t hurt and can only help. Just make sure you don’t lose it and kill her.” He says it jokingly but both men know it’s a distinct possibility at this point in the game.

“Any news on the other front?”

Ian snorts, disgustedly. “The bastard showed up in Portland to talk to Ella.”

“I’m not surprised. He has motives that you haven’t identified yet, Ian. A man like Phillips doesn’t go chasing a woman around the country except for a good reason. I say that with all respect for Ella.”

“Yes. I agree. I just don’t know what more I can do to ferret out the information—short of water boarding.”

“Remind me how Ella met him?”

“Through a college friend. I can’t remember her name.”

“Remember her name, Ian. Start with her. She probably holds the missing slice of information, knowingly or not.”

Ian sighs; he’s tired of it all and wants to take a vacation with Ella. “Yes, I will. How was your trip, by the way?”

“Perfect. I recommend getting away for a long weekend, Ian, does wonders for perspective, not to mention disposition. Oh, by the way, we received the lovely gift from you and Ella. Thank you. I believe Olivia sent a note of appreciation.”

“Yes. She did. I look forward to meeting her in the near future.”

“Absolutely. Perhaps you might make it to New York for our wedding.”

“I can do that… if you can get to Portland for ours.”

“Oh? I suppose congratulations are in order, then. I’m very glad to hear it but I’m sure you’ll be breaking hearts all over the great state of Oregon.”

Ian laughs. “Thanks for the minute, Daniel. Have a good day.”

As the clock strikes 3:55, he swivels his chair away from the large window behind his desk to face the doors of the office head-on. Ian has been glancing at the damn clock all fucking day—he might just have to get rid of it after today. Is she actually going to show? He hasn’t set eyes on Natasha in over five years. The last time he saw her was the day he realized she’d betrayed him… utterly. At that minute, her sensual beauty began to take on sinister proportions.

He had loved her since high school. Since the moment he’d set eyes on her. It was the first time in his young life that he’d felt such a passion for another human being outside of his own family. Perhaps pathetically, he’d believed his feelings were fully requited… but he’d been wrong, dead wrong. Instead of love, she’d set her sights on ruining him.

But she hadn’t and still could not. And now? Well, it took a long time, over five years, long, lonely ones to be sure, but now he found he could feel again. He loved Ella with everything he had to give, so Natasha didn’t win on any count and he would make sure she knew it, if he did nothing else today.

Just after noon, Janine had buzzed him. “Mr. Blackmon. Ms. Yenin is on the line. She wants to know if she can reschedule her appointment for tomorrow instead?”

What? The bitch is just jerking my chain
, he thought. “Where’s Claudia?”

“She took an early lunch today; I think she had a doctor’s appointment.”

“Listen to me, Janine, very carefully. Tell Ms. Yenin that tomorrow is not possible. As far as I’m concerned, it’s either today or never. But don’t tell her that. Just say no to any other time or day she suggests. She’ll get the message rather quickly. Then get back to me with her answer.”

“Very good, sir.”

He sat there, tapping his fingers against the desk, marshaling all of his resources to remain serene, a near impossible task. Finally, he acceded to his inner rage and sent a heavy crystal paperweight sailing across the room. It blasted into the far wall, gouging a crater into the formerly pristine white of the painted sheetrock. Calmly, he rose to his feet, and walked to a small watercolor painting to the left of the hole. Removing the painting, he pulled its hook out, rammed it just above the cratered hole, and hung the painting to obscure his very recently acquired wall adornment.

All of her options denied, Natasha Yenin relented, deciding to keep the appointment today after all. He knew she would because she had a reason for coming to see him and if he’d learned one thing about Natasha—and learned it the hard way—it was that if she sets her sights on something or someone, she would not back down until it was finished.

At ten to four, the receptionist in the lobby calls to inform him that Ms. Yenin is on her way up. Ian rises to his feet, stretches, rolls his neck, and strides to the other side of the office to get a bottle of water, which he downs in one long pull. He’s trying to distract himself from the feelings threatening to swallow him whole: agitation, anger, even confusion. He never did find out why Natasha turned on him so viciously. Perhaps today would deliver the moment of truth?

The buzzer rings as Claudia’s echoing voice fills the room a few moments later. “Dragon lady just got off the elevator. How would you like me to proceed?”

“Seat her in reception and make her wait, like everyone else. I’ll buzz you when I’m ready. Thanks, Claudia.”

“You’re welcome, Ian. I’ll await your call.”

Pacing the room, he tries to work off some of the manic energy coursing through his veins, knowing it’s stress-induced. Calm is what he needs more than anything else. Calm will allow him to control the situation and that’s exactly what he needs to do. He cannot allow his anger—or any other emotion to get in his way.

Toward that end, he makes her wait over ten minutes, figuring with each passing minute he’s ratcheting up her stress level exponentially. He’ll be calm; she’ll be tense and angry, giving him the advantage over her in their “discussion.” Finally, at six minutes after four he buzzes Claudia. “Okay. Send her in.”

The door is pushed open with purpose and the tall, blond woman strides through it, walking right to his desk, as if she owns the place. The moment she comes into view, Ian feels his body instantly respond to her physical presence: his heart begins to race erratically and he gets an instant hard-on—and it annoys the hell out of him. He can’t help it though: he was sexually attracted to the woman from the second he set his teenaged eyes on her.

Natasha appears not to have aged a day since the last time he saw her. Perhaps her hair is now a lighter blond but her face still holds all the youthful animation it always had and her eyes sparkle with her misspent plans. Her long lean figure sheathed in a body-hugging navy suit, she’s wearing a low-cut white camisole under the jacket. Around her throat are multiple strands of pearls, from the last of which dangles a large white-gold Russian Orthodox cross. On her feet are navy stilettos, with five-inch heels, worn with flair despite her tall height. With the shoes, she easily breaches six feet.

Ian stands and slowly comes around his desk to meet her head on. Since she refused to sit, he wasn’t about to look up to her from his own seated position. By standing opposite her, he still
manages to tower over her by a couple of inches.

Ice-blue eyes unabashedly examine him up and down, appraising him as an adversary. “What? No hug and kiss?” she asks, her voice deep and throaty as she smiles, revealing her toothpaste-ad row of teeth.

Ignoring her comment, he instead asks a question of his own. “To what do I owe this unparalleled
pleasure
, Ms. Yenin?”

“I’m not here to verbally spar with you, Blackmon. I’ve come to talk business: first about TES. Then… other, shall we say more personal, business.”

“Personal?”

Waving her hand in dismissal, she retorts, “Table it for now. Shall we discuss our competition for TES and Alt-En?”

Ian shrugs, his attention on his fingernails; he decides a manicure is in order. “Nothing to discuss,” he says airily. “As far as Alt-En is concerned, have at it. Excalibur is no longer interested and has withdrawn its offer. As for TES, you may or may not know, the sale of the company to a corporation based in Tokyo is already well underway. Is that all?”

The blond woman retains her cool, eyeing him with no apparent emotion. Though Ian finds her inscrutable expression unnerving, he doesn’t allow it show. It’s a stare down at this point. Finally, she ruptures the silent impasse.

“You’ve proven to be a most unworthy opponent, Blackmon. You’ve had so much time and yet you haven’t even begun to figure it out. I suppose I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs… or in your case perhaps just a chorus line of whores. Here, let me take your hand and guide you to it, like leading the blind, deaf, and dumb.” She cocks her head, pausing for a short moment. “On second thought: I’ll give you a hint and it will be up to you to figure out the story. How’s that?” She didn’t wait for his comment. “Look to your grandfather.”

“My grandfather?” He crosses his arms. “What can my grandfather possibly have to do with this matter? Further, I happen to have two of them. To whom do you refer? My paternal grandfather, who was a judge, or my mother’s father, the oncologist?” He leans his hip against the desk, barely breathing and never taking his eyes off the shapely opponent in front of him. He treats her like the snake in the grass she is.

Tapping her foot in a staccato beat, she spits out her next question. “What kind of judge, Blackmon?

“Immigration.”

“Bingo. Ever notice that I speak with traces of an accent? I’m a Russian national, as are my parents… as are my grandparents.” She looks at him pointedly, as if that’s supposed to mean something.

He snickers. “Good for you. Now get to the fucking point. I have no time for chitchat about family history, fascinating though it may be.”

She finally deigns to take a seat, and he follows suit. Ian tries not to look but fails miserably as her skirt, already fairly short at several inches above the knee, rides up her shapely thighs as she crosses her legs. He suspects she’s not wearing anything underneath since that was a penchant of hers. If she does have on an undergarment, it is probably a skimpy thong. He musters everything he has at his disposal to banish the image that rides on the coattails of that thought.

Natasha grins, knowing exactly what’s running through his mind. He could never resist her physically and that gave her enormous power over him. She believed he’d mastered it by now but a few minutes in his presence and she could tell he’s still susceptible. If necessary, she’ll use it to her advantage. “You know what, Ian Blackmon? I’m not going to make this too easy for you. Perhaps I’ll merely provide you with the impetus to solve the puzzle. You know what they say: incentive is the mother of invention?”

“I believe the word is necessity not incentive, my dear. But please,” he gestures widely with his arm, “go on. The floor is yours—in more ways than one.”

“I had my plan all mapped out: I was going to obliterate your business bit by bit until you had nothing left. All the players and pieces were in place and poised, ready to play their parts. The initial act was executed—and brilliantly at that.

“And then what happens? You dismantle the fucking company yourself! Why would any sane businessperson do something so drastic? Tell me, Ian. Why?”

He shrugs. “I was no longer interested in capitalizing on the misfortune of others. Call it an ethical epiphany, if you will.”

“Ethical? I’d call it weakness. You’re weak, Ian, disappointingly so. I thought if there were anything I could count on, it would be your ruthless pursuit of success and profit. Yet, you proved yourself feeble, susceptible to pathetic human emotions, just as you’re beholden to your emotions in your personal life now.” She sneers with contempt.

“Yes, it’s a problem among us humans. But you wouldn’t know, would you? Someone like you wouldn’t be able to grasp my motivations because I was no
t propelled by self-profit nor aggrandizement. I think those two motivations and some ridiculous blood vendetta are all you’re capable of understanding. You are a psychopathic cunt, Yenin, and I have no purpose for you. Get out of my office and don’t darken my doorway again. You do not deserve to draw your next breath of oxygen.”

“How dare you call me that word?”

He laughs. “Trust me, I never use it lightly or even at all. In this case, it is richly deserved.” He leans in closer, making every word count. “You are a cunt, of the highest order. Moreover, I never want to be forced to look upon your evil again. It’s ironic that your twisted ugliness is encased in such a glossy veneer; however, now that I can see beneath it, I can easily identify the monster within… and it’s so irretrievably hideous.”