A/N – For anyone familiar with Wendy Peabody's story, 'Rahab', and who might have taken 'notes' on Don in that story, you might recognize the name 'Bara'. She was his first wife (although at the time that I wrote Just Outside My Window, in the epilogue I thought she was his girlfriend. Evidently, I had missed the part in Rahab that said Bara was his wife).
In Femme Fatale, this is how they met – at least, according to my muses. Where Wendy didn't offer much in the way of information on the girl, other than she was Don's assistant and a bit 'cozy' with him, I've had to use my meager imagination. This story will detail the different stages in Don and Bara's relationship. I will not be taking this as a day to day expository, however. Instead, I am writing about the defining moments in their friendship that ultimately lead up to what Don told Rahab about what happened between him and Bara, in Wendy's story by that name. As for 'what happened', well, you'll just have to tag along and become a brief, faithful reader!
Oh, and – obviously – I don't own anything, nothing at all, other than Bara's life story and how she came into Don's life. Poor girl; y'all gonna cry for her, I just know it! And, there will be a Character Death, so be forewarned! Bwahaha
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Femme Fatale
Chapter 1 – The Prologue Season
The young woman sat primly in the leather chair, her crisp dark blue suit giving her the appearance of perfection. The brilliant white blouse beneath her tailored, French cut jacket made a striking contrast against the denser color, while the subtle golden tan of her skin suggested her Asian ancestry. Her neck was long and refined, supporting a delicate head crowned with jet-black hair that she had pulled back into a tight braided bun. Wearing a light application of make-up, it gently accented her already lovely features, with red seeming to play well along her lips.
She neither fussed with her clothing, nor fidgeted, but kept her posture erect and professional. With one leg crossed over and daintily hugging the other, she maintained her modesty quite well. After chancing a glance at the gilded and intricately ornate double doors across from her, the girl allowed her gaze to take in the rest of the reception room, or hall. Where the room was large enough to accommodate fifty people quite easily, she felt rather dwarfed by its overstated dimensions. She sighed subtly, then, trying to dispel any nervousness.
Taking in the room's appointments, she next studied the marbled floors. With colors of soft pink and white, and with an occasional spattering of gold, they did well to offset the subtle fresco mural adorning the walls. Painted in muted tones of pastels, the various landscapes and pictures were mildly entertaining to her, and obviously painted there to distract those who waited in the lobby. At the very least, it gave them something to look at, as she was doing now.
The girl's eyes then followed the height of the walls, having to tilt her head back just a little to appreciate their grandeur. They seemed to soar towards the heavens a good sixteen feet, maybe even more, and then topped by a ceiling that nearly astounded her. It bowed upwards even more, with a golden filigree design at its very apex. Where the walls joined at the ceiling, however, crown molding, as gold as the doors, wrapped its way all around the room. The intricate design of the molding was just as impressive and detailed as was the rest of the room. Yet, what grabbed her attention the most, were the two chandeliers that hung from above, with each opulent luminary at least six feet across.
They glittered like a million diamonds as the hundreds of intricately cut crystal drops and buttons radiated their light. It was simply breathtaking. One would normally find such lavishness in a ballroom or a mansion, but not here in a simple 'waiting' room. It was obvious that the mogul behind the golden doors had outfitted his building to impress and to intimidate. Who would dare challenge him, when he could easily afford to buy an army, as he did with this New York City skyscraper. The girl could only stare at the light fixtures in wonder, nearly bedazzled and mesmerized with their beauty.
"Thank goodness I'm alone in here," she thought to herself, looking back towards the reception door, now closed to give her privacy. On the other side of the door was the receptionist who had ushered her in only ten minutes earlier. She had said very little to the girl at the time, other than to ask her if she wanted a cup of coffee or tea. When the girl waved away any of the proffered beverages, the woman directed her to the chair she now sat in, soon returning once again to the reception room and closing door behind her.
At first, the girl felt put off for being left alone, but now, as she looked around her general vicinity, she had to appreciate her solitude. "At least I can gawk at this display of wealth without having to worry about someone watching me do it."
She tried to relax a little more.
After a few more moments had passed, the girl closed her eyes and swallowed in nervous anticipation, taking in another deep breath. However, realizing that it wasn't working too well, she opted to use an ancient calming exercise that she implemented whenever she felt stressed out. At first, she slowed her breathing and tried to relax her mind, thinking of the one item in the room that had brought a smile to her face – the chandeliers. Their beauty had impressed her, their rainbow of tiny reflective lights almost hypnotic. Years ago, her grandfather had taught her this technique; to think of one simple item that had a positive affect on her, something simple to ease her worries. It was an art form passed down through the family, and now it was something that she used whenever needed.
As she regarded how the chandelier affected the entire room, she thought of her deceased grandfather. Similar to how the tiny crystal drops and beads reflected the inner light of the ceiling fixture, her grandfather, likewise, had influenced her life in the same way. The wise old man had been gone, now, for some five years, and yet on a moments notice, she could recall any lesson from him, even something as simple as breathing the right way to quiet her nerves. She smiled at the memory and the warm feelings that it brought to her heart.
Remembering the time of year he had first taught her this simple breathing trick, she sighed. It was springtime in northern Japan, much like it was now, here in New York. Except, in Japan the cherry trees were in full bloom, their crown of radiant pink and white flowers filling the landscape with their delicate beauty. She and her ojiisan, or grandfather, were taking in a cup of morning tea as they sat beneath one of the trees in his garden, both of them enjoying the occasional light rain of petals that sporadically sprinkled over them. She had just shared with him about a nightmare she had had the night before and he was listening to her.
It was then when he had introduced her to the mysteries of breathing correctly.
She was only five at the time, but had already experienced much pain for one so young. Her parents had died only the year before, leaving the little girl adrift for the first time in her life and quite confused. She was an only child, and so her ojiisan had come for her. Where he was the only surviving member of her family, it was only right, then, for him to raise her. He eventually became her anchor, her father, and inspiration. Yet, sitting under that cherry tree so long ago, he had sensed a need for the girl to reclaim some measure of control, and so it was then that he had determined 'breathing' correctly would help her.
In fact, as it turned out, it became the first of many valuable lessons that he would impart to her.
Now, as she sat in the lobby, waiting for her appointment, she sighed once more. Quickly dismissing the distant memory of her grandfather, she stared again at the intricately carved golden doors across from her. Considering their size, she determined them to be at least eight feet tall and just as wide, yet the walls themselves easily dwarfed them.
Still, as she studied the carvings there, she pursed her lips. She turned her head this way and that, as she tried to figure out what exactly the carvings were. Then, like the sun breaking forth behind darkened clouds, she saw it, or, rather, she saw them. Four turtles, more like sea turtles, if she were to honestly say, but turtles none the less. The two doors, as one, showed a complete picture, but where they met in the middle, there would be two on each side, indicating that even when separated, they were still part of the whole.
She chuckled a little to herself, somewhat amused with the irony. Just the same, the man who owned such splendor could afford the best, and if he wanted turtles carved into his office door, then who should complain?
In any event, even though she had been on time for her appointment with him, the man she was to meet appeared to be late.
"He can afford to be, I guess," she mused silently, "Although, I would think that he would have enough forethought and courtesy to try and be punctual." The girl sniffed in mild offense, and then looked over at the table on her right, next to where she sat. Spying a collection of magazines there, she thumbed through them until she found one of interest. Taking it up and placing it in her lap, she noticed that the magazine concerned yachts, but not the ordinary yacht that the ordinary man of wealth might fancy. No, these yachts were behemoths, suitable for anyone who considered sailing as something more than just a pastime. As she leafed through the pages, her eyes widened as each vessel seemed to outdo the one before, as if challenging the very notion of sensibility.
"Who would want one of these? Except…maybe to impress?" she asked herself. The prices were imposing by themselves. Yet, she then wondered if the man behind the doors provided these magazines to give the impression that he owned such yachts. On the other hand, it was quite possible that he actually did and only kept the magazines for those of like mind to enjoy.
Considering he was the sole owner of the building she was in and owned the company for whom she worked, and the fact that his name had become a household word throughout the world in just a few short years, it would not have surprised her one bit if he did indeed own such a sailing vessel.
Many, she thought, who came into wealth so quickly often splurged on such fantastic objects, if only to satisfy a long held fantasy. As she looked around once again, she surmised that this was probably the case with the one behind the golden double doors – with turtles carved into them, no less! She sniffed again, not the least bit impressed.
Shrugging, she returned the periodical to its rightful place, blowing through parted lips a bit of anxious air. "Not that I should be concerned, I only want the job," she mused silently, now beginning to feel a slight edge of growing impatience.
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"You've investigated her thoroughly, Thomas?" the man asked as he sat behind his desk. As he watched the monitor screen, he steepled his fingers under his chin in thought, while his elbows rested along the arms of his chair. He was leaning back into the soft leather fabric of the overstuffed furniture, watching the girl on the screen as she looked around. Then, as she slipped a magazine onto her lap, he observed as she glanced through the periodical. He noted a bit of increasing agitation as she thumbed the pages from right to left. However, he made neither comment nor judgment regarding the girl, but just sat there and studied her.
To the casual observer, it would have been impossible for anyone to know about the cameras strategically placed throughout the anteroom. For the man behind the desk, it was an added safety feature, and one that had on more than a few occasions, spared his life.
Thomas, Asian in appearance and small in stature, then replied, "Yes, sir. I've checked her lineage, where she went to school, her grades from primary all the way through university, her pastimes, and her favorite food." Thomas held out his palm pilot for his employer to take, which he did, with the girl's resume already downloaded and showing on the small screen.
Don quickly read the stats presented on the viewer, his keen mind easily absorbing the offered information. Along with her list of credits, he saw the names of the universities that the girl had studied at, her seemingly endless number of awards, and a few glowing comments from some of her professors. Don smiled a little, obviously quite impressed.
Thomas then continued to click off more of the girl's attributes, "She's excelled in everything, sir, earning nearly a four-point-eight GPA, and acquiring two masters and a doctorate by age twenty-five. She's done far above expectations in the lower labs, as well, surpassing even those who would otherwise be her superiors." Taking a breath, the man added, "On a personal note, she prefers dramas to comedy, history to fiction, and would rather eat with chopsticks than a fork and knife." Thomas smiled as he said, "The girl makes a habit of eating at the same sushi restaurant three times each week and on the same days. The staff there knows her very well." He cleared his throat as he continued, "My informant says that she rises precisely at six a.m., spends under thirty minutes getting ready each morning, and is never late to work. After quitting time, she returns home, changes into running shorts and a tank top - weather permitting, and then runs a minimum of two miles. Afterwards, she may eat a light meal, or nothing at all, and maybe take in a bit of television, usually the documentary or history channel. If not television, then she reads, which is usually non-fiction. My informant has never seen her on the phone, at least not in the past year that we have been studying her. Oh, and just before going to bed, which is precisely at ten, she drinks a cup of chamomile and lavender tea."
A long, pregnant pause followed, as Don absorbed Thomas's information. Then, he remarked, "Her stats look very good, almost perfect. Anything else that I should know about other than…that," the man asked as he handed the palm pilot back to his employee.
"Yes, she flies to northern Japan each year, in the springtime. She likes to visit her deceased grandfather at a Buddhist monastery, where he is buried. In fact, she just returned from there a week ago."
"Is she jet lagging still?" his employer asked curiously.
"Actually, she does very well with long flights. My informant tells me that she meditates off and on during the flight to and from Japan."
The man behind the desk smiled as he glanced over at the monitor screen, "Good, that's very good to hear. It seems she has acquired some training to dispel simple things such as jet lag. It shows – strength." He turned back to face his employee again, an expectant expression on his face.
"I've also checked for any other type of training and found there isn't any history of martial arts, sir," Thomas remarked, knowing it was the one detail his boss would find most interesting.
"Just as well," the man said as he pursed his lips, "I think I would be more concerned if she did. It would cause me to question – the validity of her innocence." He leaned back against his chair, crossing his arms in front of him, and studied the monitor again. On the screen, he watched as the young woman in the other room continued to sit and wait. She had dispensed with the magazine and was now just biding her time. He could tell that she had great training in patience, as well; a trait that he found most attractive.
"She's quite lovely, isn't she?" the man murmured softly, almost as an afterthought, barely whispering his words.
"Sir?" Thomas asked, uncertainly.
"Lovely, the girl is lovely, Thomas," his employer repeated, only a bit louder, this time, and almost in awe, as if he had found a rare tropical bird. "Not that it's a requirement, but – if one is to work next to someone for any length of time, a pleasant appearance would be a nice bonus, wouldn't you say? Sort of like working in a garden filled with beautiful roses."
"Yes, Mr.Tello, I would have to agree with you on that one." Thomas replied, glancing once over at the monitor and nodding his head in concurrence.
Mr. Tello tapped his chin a bit with one finger, seemingly in thought. Then, he looked up at his valet, "Does she have many friends?"
Thomas replied, "Actually, she is a very hard and dedicated worker. I've seen her take a lunch or two with a fellow lab assistant now and then, but for the most part she is too caught up in her work to socialize."
"Hmm…I see," was all the man said in reply. Then, he grinned, sitting forward a bit in his chair with his hands now in his lap, as he entreated, "I think she will do. I'm impressed with her resume', her education is sterling and though I would prefer her to be a bit more socialized, her commitment to her work is admirable." He smiled, "I think she more than meets my expectation for this project." Don looked once more at the screen, "The government will undoubtedly benefit from the girl's capabilities, as will I." Nodding towards the doors, he instructed as he switched off the monitor screen, "You may welcome her in, Thomas."
"As you wish, Mr. Tello." Thomas then turned heel, executing a one-eighty-about-face, and walked the twenty feet to the gold double doors. As he opened them, he stepped out and, keeping one door ajar, called, "Miss Tanaka, Mr. Tello will see you now."
Without hesitation, the girl instantly rose to a stand and strode confidently up to the now opened doorway. As she walked up to Thomas, her two-inch navy-blue heels clicked daintily against the marble tiled floor.
As she approached him, the small-stature man noted her petit size, standing as tall as he did with help from the shoes she wore. Without them, most certainly she would be an inch shorter than his employer was. Just the same, her legs were trim, as was the rest of her figure, and he had to agree with his boss that she was indeed very attractive.
As the young woman reached him, she stopped, and then bowed her head slightly. After looking back up again, she smiled just a little. Thomas returned both gestures, and then opened the door wider, thereby allowing the girl to pass through and into the office beyond.
As the young woman came into the room, she had all she could do to keep from gasping. It was the most striking room that she had ever seen. Styled in traditional Japanese, the walls were dressed in a tatami mat material, with colors of red, black, and sporadic touches of gold accenting here and there. Antiquated Samurai masks and swords adorned the walls, with many silk paintings showing the ancient landscapes of old Japan. Several tall black pedestals littered the floor space around the room's perimeter, each crowned with an antique statue of the mounted warriors. However, the most striking object was a full sized statue of a Samurai on horseback, monochromatic in black obsidian, yet dressed in the colorful traditional armament of that period. It resided at the opposite end from where her employer sat, almost as if there by design and for the sole purpose of intimidation.
The desk where Mr. Tello sat was the same ebony black as the statue and pedestals, and quite orderly. The only items on his desk were the flat screen monitor situated to the man's right, and then a console with a series of buttons along the left side.
However, Miss Tanaka never faltered her pace, but kept her reaction of the room to herself. Turning now towards the man behind the desk, she followed Thomas further in, and took the seat offered her, placed just in front of the black, imposing desk.
As she sat down in the proffered seat, she smiled at the man on the other side and then greeted him, "Mr. Tello," as she gave a little bow of her head. Looking back up at her employer once again, she waited.
In the past year after she was hired, she had seen him only a few times when he would pass through the laboratory where she worked, several floors below. He was always startling to see, yet here in his office and being this close to him, she now noticed the kindness that so many of her work associates talked about. There was the subtle strength in his features, as well, yet his eyes told her so much more. They were warm and friendly, their chocolate brown hue almost disarming the way they reflected the light in the room. She felt safe, here, for some reason, welcomed even.
"Ah, Miss Tanaka, I am so glad that you came." Mr. Tello said with warm sincerity, and then bowed his head slightly, "I apologize for my lateness, but – ah – I had some small details to take care of. I hope you will forgive me?" He looked back up at her now, his smile genuine.
"Of course, Mr. Tello. My time is your time," she said as she bowed politely once again.
Don was charmed; yes, the girl certainly understood propriety and courtesy, her traditional bow most attractive. Working among those who lived in and around New York City had dulled him to the exactness of Japanese customs, something he favored over the handshake of Western society. Seeing this young woman extend to him a courtesy that he had almost forgotten, made him desire a visit with his one brother who resided near Osaka.
Nevertheless, he knew by her education and the exactness of her work in the lab, that this Miss Tanaka would become a great asset to his latest project, his most important project, in fact. She would do nicely for the task he had in mind for her.
"Miss Tanaka," Don began, "I trust that Thomas has explained the project you have been called to work on?"
"Yes," she replied eagerly, her voice quiet and soft, yet her eyes danced with enthusiasm, "he has, as much as he was allowed to. I understand that this project is – to be kept confidential?"
Nodding subtly, Don replied, "I am glad that you perceived this fact. I will explain later in more detail what it is about, but I want you to be aware that it may involve many long hours of research and work, probably forcing you to stay well after most of your compatriots in the lab have gone home. Are you up for it?"
"Oh, yes," the girl bowed her head once more, commenting eagerly as she looked back up again, "I am very excited about this opportunity and I give you my word, you will never have to ask me to give more of myself."
"It might also mean working by yourself on occasion, although most times you will be working side by side with me." Don further explained.
"Whatever work you have for me to do, I will do gladly. The working conditions are irrelevant," she replied evenly.
Smiling, Don bowed in return, "That is most acceptable, Miss…" He paused then, studying the young woman seated across the desk from him. Then, he remarked, "I know that propriety might say that you and I continue with formalities, but I would much prefer something less conventional, where we will be working so closely together."
Although puzzled, the girl politely held her tongue and waited. It seemed a bit out of character for someone as powerful as Mr. Tello was, to work outside the boundaries of formality. She knew by 'word of mouth' that he was quite strict regarding regulations and rules.
Just the same, what did he mean by 'less conventional'? What exactly was he expecting from her? Miss Tanaka began to rethink her eager acceptance of this 'highly sought after' position, and it showed on her face.
Seeing the girl's hesitation, Don replied, "Ah, no worries, Miss Tanaka, I am only referring to what we shall call each other." He noticed a slight blush on the girl's face, and it amused him, causing him to chuckle a little as he furthered his comment, "Although I would expect you to address me publicly as Mr. Tello and I would refer to you as Miss Tanaka, while working together, I would much prefer that you call me 'Don'."
Almost instantly, her eyes flashed in relief, and then discomfort. Her head bowed in respect once again, and feeling a slight bit of embarrassment, "Oh, I – I don't know if I can do that, Sir."
"I insist," he said simply, "and I will honor you in the same way."
The girl looked up, a questioning expression crossing her face.
"Your - given name is very beautiful," he commented as he smiled softly, "and one that ought to be said…among friends."
Smiling, the girl blushed and looked away. Her ojiisan had once said that to her. Instantly and despite how different her employer was to her, the girl warmed to his spirit and his gentle kindness.
"Do…I have your permission to call you by your first name?" Don asked tenderly, searching her face for any concealed offense. He smiled inwardly when he found none.
Shyly, she nodded and replied in a near whisper, as a warm blush once again kissed her face, "Hai,"
"Then, my dear Bara," Don entreated as he pushed a few a buttons on the console built into his desk, "Let me show you where we will be working." He gestured to his left.
A soft 'whooshing' sound soon came to the girl's ears and, as she turned towards it, the wall to her right almost magically slid to one side. It revealed a room just beyond the wall's threshold, and seemed fully equipped as a laboratory. With the interior now lighting up, Bara was able to discern several tables, numerous shelves filled with an assortment of electronics, and then what seemed to be one large, wall sized computer.
It was obviously a secret room and, in that moment, Bara knew that she had finally made it to the top. Her heart began to race just a little in excitement as she thought about the many wonderful discoveries and endless amounts of research that she would be able to do in there.
Truly, this was a dream job of the most fortuitous kind, and, in that moment, Bara considered herself quite lucky.
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