Chapter 11
A/N: Just a bit more to go … almost at the finish line. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope you're enjoying the story.
The taxi pulled up to the Duro Maio offices, but Angela's legs refused to obey her and exit the cab. She steeled her nerves by envisioning the confrontation with Paolo over and done with. Then, she and Tony would be able to continue what they'd started in the hotel room a short time ago. She looked over at him and drew strength from his encouraging smile.
"You can do this, Angela. Come on, before you lose your nerve," he said. He paid the cabbie, took her hand in his and exited the cab, curbside, pulling her along with him.
"Who says I haven't already lost my nerve? Or that I ever had it?" Angela balked in front of the massive steel and glass tower. She felt dwarfed by it, insignificant.
"Then fake it. I'm sure you've been anxious in business meetings before, but I'll bet that none of those corporate hotshots ever knew it. You yourself told me that when you're nervous about giving a speech, you picture your audience naked. Maybe you could … uh … never mind." Tony clamped his hand over his mouth and muttered in Italian.
"Never mind, indeed! It's an image I'd rather forget." Angela blinked hard to stave off the offensive memory. She looked to Tony to erase it, and scanned his face as though trying to memorize every detail—the laugh lines, the thick eyebrows furrowed in concern, the uneven nose and best of all, his full, sensual mouth, which was still swollen from their kissing—and she closed her eyes consolidating his features in her mind's eye. "Alright, I'm ready," she declared suddenly. Despite the violent beating of her heart, and sweaty palms, she drew herself up straight and entered the building with Tony by her side.
Angela kept her focus on the time after the confrontation would be over. The Bower Agency would still belong to her, and her alone. Paolo would be out of her life for good. She'd retain full autonomy over all of her decisions, and perhaps she could use the Rio song for another client. Okay, now she was thinking way too far ahead. Before any of those considerations, she considered the man standing next to her in the elevator. She was falling for him, unequivocally and completely. She quickly squeezed his fingers as they came up to the Duro Maio foyer. The same receptionist greeted them without a smile this time.
"Good afternoon, Senhora Bower. Senhor Duro will see you in his office. He has been waiting for you." The thin brunette came out from behind her reception desk and briskly walked over to Angela. "Come with me."
"I know which one is his office," Angela replied, somewhat put off by the woman's terse manner, as well as her attempt to lead.
"He's asked me to escort you." The receptionist motioned with her hand and gave Angela a less than polite shove toward the corridor. Tony began to follow them.
"No. You stay here and wait." She faced Tony and put up her hand like a stop sign, then pointed to the waiting area. "This will be a private meeting. Wait over there. These are Senhor Duro's orders."
Tony and Angela locked eyes, worried expressions mirroring each other. Tony hesitated, then took another step toward the women.
"I will call security if you do not sit down," the receptionist warned him now. The smiles she'd flashed him in previous visits were now replaced by a deep scowl.
"It's okay Tony. I won't be long," Angela reassured him. She took a step toward him but was whisked away by the stern, scowling woman. The last words she heard from Tony were, "I'll be right here waiting for you, Angela."
Paolo was alone in his office, waiting. He sat, leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the gleaming desk. It dominated the room now that Angela's small side desk had been removed. Angela felt a pang of anxiety when she noticed that her things were gone. She'd organized important business documents on that small work table. "Where are my things?" she blurted out.
"Your things? Those were not your things. They were all connected to my account. I removed them." Paolo swung his long legs off the desk and stood up, towering over Angela. "You have no things here."
"Yes, I do. I have my storyboard, my concept and other documents. They belong to the Bower Agency. I'd like them back please."
Paolo studied her but said nothing for a long moment. Then, he pulled out a low chair and patted it. "Sit down." Angela did not move—she did not appreciate being spoken to as a subordinate, or a dog.
"I'll stand."
"Suit yourself," he said. Paolo sat back in his elevated, leather chair and paged the receptionist to bring certain documents and coffee. "You will read and sign the papers to dissolve our contract," he began. "We will part as though we had never met."
"I see. In that case, I'd like my storyboard and all creative work returned to the Bower Agency. As well, my ideas are my intellectual property and may not be used by Duro Maio." Angela's legs felt a bit shaky so she sat in the chair that Paolo had offered her. It was small, like a child's chair and she had to sit up ramrod straight in order to reach the top of Paolo's desk. She was surprised that he wasn't more upset with her; he appeared outwardly calm.
"Very well," he replied in an even tone.
The receptionist entered then, with coffee and a large pile of documents. She poured two coffees, gave Paolo the papers and walked out. Paolo handed Angela a thick folder and directed her to read it. "Please read it carefully. When you are done, you may sign." He handed her a pen and waited for her to be distracted by her reading. Satisfied that she was engrossed and not paying attention to him, he discreetly slipped several small pills into her coffee.
"How do you take your coffee?" he asked her.
"Black with sugar," she answered, while not looking up from the paperwork in front of her. Paolo heaped a spoonful of sugar, then stirred the coffee until the tablets dissolved. He put the cup in front of her and waited for her to drink it.
Angela sipped at her coffee and continued reading. The documents were boring, containing plenty of legalese. She stifled a yawn and drank more of the coffee. "Are you sure these are the right papers? Where is the original contract that we signed in New York?"
"Let me find that. In the meantime, enjoy your coffee." Paolo excused himself and left Angela alone in his office. The barbiturate needed several minutes to fully take effect. He was sure that its sedative effects would be helped along by the exceedingly boring and long-winded documents he'd given her to read. None pertained to her, but she would be several pages in before she realized it, and by then, she'd be too drowsy to care. However, he needed to catch her before she completely passed out. He wanted her in a state of semi-wakeful sedation, responsive to suggestion. He waited about ten minutes then came in with the document he'd specially drawn up for the occasion. It was a modified version of the merger proposal, quite significantly modified in fact. It was a hostile takeover. And all he needed was Angela's signature. He entered his office and found her slumped over the desk. She'd knocked the papers off of his desk and they were scattered all over the floor. Paolo smiled.
"Querida, querida," he whispered into her ear. She sat up and looked at him in confusion.
"So sleepy," she mumbled. "Boring documents."
"I found the one we need!" Paolo said, loudly this time. He shoved his hands beneath her armpits and roughly pulled her up to a sitting position. Then, he stuck the pen in her hand. "Sign here my dear."
"Too sleepy," she complained. Angela tried to look at the paper that Paolo placed before her, but all she could see were letters swimming together. She blinked hard but still couldn't make sense of them. "Sign later," she said between yawns.
"No, you must sign now. Then you can sleep." Paolo pushed her torso back up when she began to slump against him. He slid the pen between her fingers and positioned her hand right above the signature line. "Put your name here. Now."
Angela did as she was told. She was too tired to care anymore. All she wanted was a soft pillow for her head. Sitting up required much too much effort. After scribbling her signature on the document, she closed her eyes, lay her head on the desk and succumbed to sleep.
Paolo grasped the precious documents away from her—a giggle of mirth escaped him. He put the papers in his safe and exhaled with relief when they were locked away. "The Bower Agency is mine," he declared. "You thought you could keep it away from me, you stupid vaca. Did you think you were better than me? A mere woman?" Paolo spoke to the sleeping figure before him and snorted in derision.
His plan was in place. He'd visualised its success numerous times, and he would succeed. First, he called the limo and ordered the driver to wait by the building's back exit. Then, he scooped Angela up into his arms as though she weighed nothing. Paolo was strong and tall—Angela was easy to carry, for she was light and unresponsive. He exited through the office's second door, the one that led to his private washroom. From there, he stepped out into the back hallway and down the stairwell. He'd have to carry her all the way down from the top floor. He was prepared. He tucked her unconscious form against his chest and kept his prize in mind. A New York advertising agency would be his. All his. He only needed to rid himself of this one obstacle. It was a shame, he thought, for she was a beautiful woman and he would have enjoyed her. He was definitely attracted to her physically, but his ultimate goal meant more to him. Having his foot firmly in the American market and owning a slice of Madison Avenue was worth more than a mere woman. Paolo had had women, many women and he found that they were quite interchangeable. Even Lucia, beautiful Lucia had not been too difficult to replace. He felt a tiny pang of remorse but brushed it off. Any beautiful woman in his bed would do. He would have liked to seduce the blond American woman in his arms, but that would not be necessary, for he would enjoy her before it was too late.
Tony checked his watch again. He'd been waiting for over an hour now and was anxious for Angela's return. He stood up and began to pace, then sigh. The receptionist glared at him, and he glared back. "What's taking so long?" he asked.
"I do not know," she replied, while not looking up from her computer.
Tony felt like a mosquito being swatted away.
"Could you page them?" he asked.
"No."
"No?"
"No." She glanced up from her computer and gave him a dirty look. "Senhor Duro does not wish to be disturbed. Please wait."
Tony sat back down but his right leg wouldn't stop bouncing. He took deep breaths to calm himself but his nerves were jangled and his mind wouldn't stop racing. Angela. He could only think of Angela. He was in love with her, he knew now. He'd known for some time, but could finally acknowledge it to himself. Perhaps it was being away from home, and away from his housekeeping duties that enabled him to silently admit his love for her. That and he'd been so worried about her for days. He was still worried. Unable to sit a moment longer, Tony bolted out of his seat and down the corridor toward the offices.
"Come back!" the receptionist shouted after him. He heard her high heels clicking rapidly toward him.
Tony ran faster and collided with a young man. "I'm sorry," he said. He helped the young man to his feet. "Which one is Mr. Duro's office?" he asked.
"Why? Who are you?" the young man asked, suspicious. He pushed his crooked glasses back onto his face and straightened his suit jacket.
"I'm Angela Bower's friend. And I need to find her. Now!"
Esteban noted the urgency in the other man's voice as well as the panicked look on his face. "Alright, I'll take you to my father's office," he replied. "Follow me." Esteban shooed the receptionist away when she began to complain.
"Your father?"
"Yes, I am Esteban Duro, Paolo's son. I've worked quite a bit with your friend, Angela. She's a very smart lady. I am fond of her."
"Yeah me too," Tony replied. "And I'm worried. She's having a difficult meeting with your father. Angela doesn't want to merge her agency with Duro Maio. Your father isn't happy about it."
"Oh?" Esteban felt a surge of adrenaline. He knew about his father's reputation with women, and he truly liked Angela Bower. As such, he ran the last few steps to his father's office and knocked on the door, hard. There was no answer. He knocked again, harder and louder but still there was no answer. Finally, he tried the doorknob but it was locked.
"Ana, get me the master key, now!" he shouted down the hallway. A young woman heeded his call and arrived with the key. Esteban took it from her and opened the door.
"Where are they?" Tony asked. He noticed the papers lying all over the floor and Angela's purse still in the room. "Where are they?!" he shouted now.
Esteban blanched. "I don't know, but we had better find her. Now."