Broken
Chapter One
By: Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
www.geocities.com/karismafanfic
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
June 2001
London, England 2001
Darien McDermott sat at his desk, impatiently waiting for his
secretary to come in with his messages. Loosening his tie restlessly,
he spun around in his chair to peer over his office's view. The entire
back wall was solid glass, allowing him one of the finest views London
had to offer. Barely glancing at the spectacular evening skyline, he
sighed heavily at the delay his novice secretary was causing him.
Unsure what had possessed his friend to hire such a young,
inexperienced dilettante; he ran an agitated hand through his dark
hair.
He groaned silently when he heard her rush in, breathless. Turning
once again in his plush chair, he held out his hand for the yellow
files. The young girl blushed deeply to the same color of her red hair
when he flipped through them brusquely. Nodding to her curtly, he began
his work, effectively cueing her exit.
Molly Hanson sighed silently, if she was honest with herself, she
realized she had no business starting work with the most demanding man
alive. Fresh out of college, she knew she wasn't experienced enough for
such a challenging job.
After a disastrous first day, she had decided on requesting a transfer.
In fact, she was on her way out the door when Mr. McDermott had called
her back to pull some more files for him in a ridiculously narrow time
slot. Only Superman could please Darien McDermott, and even then he
would tsk-tsk at the delay the fastest man alive had caused him!
Content with her decision, she left his office and immediately
picked up the phone to request another boss in the same building.
Someone who was, preferably, not the CEO of one of the richest, most
powerful, international communication systems in the world.
****
Serena Corday brushed her light hair out of her blue eyes. Typing
rapidly on her laptop, she finished the article with a sudden burst of
inspiration.
Saving it triumphantly, she reached over for her forgotten coffee and
took a sip. Grimacing instantly at the cold, bitter liquid, she
automatically checked her slim watch to find out exactly how long she
had been in the café. Her large eyes widened in alarm as she realized
the time. Snapping her gray laptop shut, she snatched up her bag and
quickly packed up. Running out of the café, she hailed a cab and was
soon whisked away into the London traffic.
She arrived at her sister's home breathless, frantically trying
not to be late for the long anticipated reunion. She entered the cozy
home, warmth surrounding her from all sides as she followed the noise
of laughter into the tactfully decorated living room.
Neha jumped up when she saw Serena. Engulfing her in a tight
embrace, the shorter woman laughed somewhat nervously. When the two
women pulled apart, Neha looked at her friend in nervousness. When they
had last parted, Serena had been in a cold shock while Raye had been
reticent, staring off into space without recognition of anyone. Guilt
seeped through her at what tragedies had befallen her two wonderful
friends. However, when she saw her blonde friend candidly happy to see
her, all worries about the past dissolved.
Serena saw the worried emotions fly across Neha's petite face and
smiled broadly to assure her. She knew the torture the Khans had gone
through when she and Raye had made their hasty departure. Although they
had nothing to do with
Ajay or his thugs, a sense of responsibility had fallen on their
shoulders, making it painful to watch their exchange students leave on
such dreadful terms.
Raye jumped up in excitement and led her older sister to sit next
to a grown up Raj. They all exchanged pleasantries before a unpleasant
silence spread over them.
Typical Raye, desiring everyone to be comfortable and happy,
chattered on about humorous times that had taken place during the stay.
However, everyone was not pondering over the anecdotes, they were
remembering a more somber experience. The recollection of the hospital
where Raye had lay, so still, so pale, her face crumbling with
understanding as she learned of her inability to bear children.
But Raye had found a man who understood and loved her regardless.
In light of her usual trusting nature, it should not have surprised
Serena that Raye had taken to loving the company of the opposite sex so
quickly. Within two years she was dating Chad steadily. They had gotten
engaged and finally married; the couple was now looking forward to the
adoption process that would start within the next month.
Serena had never fully forgotten, nor gotten over, the incident.
When she had arrived back to American soil, the justice system had done
nothing to help her considering the crime had been committed in India,
regardless of it happening to one of their citizens. No one had wanted
to take a case he was sure to lose. The legalities in India were
derisory. Not only were judges easily bribed into seeing nothing of
importance in a rape, they were also sexist, resulting in only
patronizing pity that was nothing close to the hard justice
Serena craved.
So their attackers had gotten off scot-free. With not even a slap
on the wrist to appease her, Serena had gone off to college, refusing
dates and thereby winning the delightful nickname: Cold fish Corday.
She had focused all her energies on writing and obtaining her
degree. She had discovered her passion for journalism immediately after
the attack. She dreamt of writing scathing pieces that would tell the
world about the injustices done to her and millions of women all over
the world. At first, it was only a venting process for her; her pent up
anger would be released in a page long biting diatribe. But then, after
a long talk with her professor, she was told she had raw talent, talent
that would be a shame to waste. From then on, she had the pleasure of
acquiring a goal that could take up all her energy and time. She had
learned after the attack too much time on her hands would only result
in insanity. Early on, she trained herself to harvest all her mind,
body, and soul to the task at hand and never let herself think for too
long.
Eventually, her hard work and insane hours paid off when she was
offered a job in London for a newspaper. She had built herself up to
attain a column where she would write about life perspectives and offer
humor and poignancy to all who read it.
The job was not as full time as she would have liked, the hours
were wonderful to someone who had a busy social calendar. Serena,
however, only had her work to keep her occupied and writing an article
a week paid well, but did nothing to ease the dread of going home alone
to face her thoughts. She was forever looking for something to fill
more of her time. She had tried hobbies and writing a novel, the former
was frustratingly mundane and the latter only magnified the ache of the
attack and her empty life subsequent to it.
Words could not describe how happy she was for her sister, but
sometimes, when she was in her bed at night, she couldn't help but wish
she, too, had someone to wean strength from. But it was crazy talk, for
it seemed Serena Corday was doomed to a solitary life, for who wanted
damaged goods with scarring pasts? However crude the statements, Serena
knew understanding men such as Chad were hard to come by, and that was
with Raye's sweet disposition. Of course, it wasn't like she had tried
to involve herself into a serious relationship with man, but she was
getting there. Serena realized that not all men were evil; she
consciously was comfortable with many of them. But even now, seven
years later, at the mature age of twenty-four, she would freeze, or
experience the terrifying moment of acute panic if a man looked at her
in a certain way, or touched her when she wasn't aware of it. But she
was getting better with time. It was only a matter of someone willing
to go through the turmoil of an intimate relationship with her. She was
sarcastic, biting, and downright rude at times. What man on earth would
want to put up with that on top of the baggage she came with?
****
Darien hung up his phone, satisfied with the pleasing news that he
would have another secretary brought to him first thing tomorrow. He
was assured this one was experienced, practiced, and most importantly,
middle aged. The last thing he needed was a mindless, twenty year old
female hanging on his every word with a giggle and blush at every
glance. A secretary in her fifties would be stiff, efficient, and not
too personal, ensuring privacy and no expectations for a camaraderie
after hours.
He stretched in his chair, rubbing the tension out of his neck
with one hand while the other dialed another number.
"Hello, Ken?"
"Darien?" A groggy voice came through. "What's the matter? What
happened?"
"Nothing happened, I just wanted to discuss those figures you
found today."
"You mean yesterday." Ken's voice took an oddly peeved tone.
"Yesterday?"
"Yes, yesterday, you workaholic. It's two a.m.!" With that, Darien
received the sharp dial tone.
Only Ken would dare hang up on him and that was only because they
had known each other since boyhood. The small fact that Darien was
Ken's boss did nothing to hinder their friendship as the two kept their
business life and friendship on two different levels.
Darien sighed heavily as he, too, hung up his phone. Grabbing his
jacket and briefcase, he closed his office behind him. Nodding
cordially to the alert security man near the glass doors, he fished out
his keys and unlocked the expensive Mercedes.
Driving home on the deserted roads, his mind never left his
office, discerning business tactics and deals, debating mergers and
numbers and facts into a calculated mind whose intellect was only
surpassed by its astounding memory.
Pulling into his four-car garage, Darien entered the opulent house
through the garage door. He passed the luxurious paintings and
expensive furniture with nonchalance, pausing only to glance at the
dinner his housekeeper had left him.
Not bothering to fix himself a plate, Darien headed toward the master
bedroom and showered, his mind rethinking the possibility of a merger
India.
The benefits would be wonderful, communication between the country
and the
United States was wonderful. He had set up multiple deals in the
States, it made sense to make acquaintances in India. The initial cost
would be exorbitant, but the end results would be lucrative if he
played his cards right. He was positive setting up a camp in the heart
of India would be wise, but how to go about it was a conundrum. Darien
would need to set up a deal that would be appealing to the
communication officers there and in order to make him feel at ease,
there was one obvious factor he would require: a translator. That much
was obvious and once they felt comfortable there, he could begin the
negotiations to make GRC
India's new communications systems.
****
Serena entered the restaurant, the spicy smells and cultural
environment reminding her off all the things she loved about India. She
spotted Raye immediately and smiled. Walking toward the table, she
greeted her half sister and her husband, her voice soft and blended in
with the music softly playing.
She sat down next to Neha and her brother, laying her napkin on her
lap. The
conversation was light as they waited for the waiter to come to their
table.
When the owner of the posh restaurant came to see them, the party
of five
looked up, surprised. Speaking in Hindi, the impeccably dressed man
greeted Neha
and Raj with a warm smile. They responded enthusiastically, they had
not seen
many Indian people in their trip and were reminded of home to see this
short,
slightly plump man.
Raye looked at Serena and winked. She had forgotten whatever Hindi
she had
picked up immediately after the attack. The doctors thought it was her
way of
effectively dismissing all associated with the rape. The inability to
recall the
language must have been subconscious because Raye was dismayed to
forget her
second language. Serena however, begging for the release of
forgetting,
forgetting it all: the attack, the language, the culture, everything.
But she
couldn't, and part of her didn't want to; She loved the culture and
there were
wonderful things about the country that she admired. She wouldn't give
the
attack the satisfaction of letting her hate the very things she yearned
to learn
about. So Serena remained fluent in Hindi, and although she was rusty,
she
decided to participate in the conversation and give the cordial man a
shock.
"Namaste, sahi. Aap kaisee hoon?" She had asked him how he was and
the
happy surprise written on his face was answer enough as his grin grew
broader.
He answered cheerfully, retelling of how his wife and children
were faring.
They chatted about where in India he was from and how his relatives
back home
were doing. When he asked how she knew Hindi, Neha shifted
uncomfortably in her
seat, aware of the tense subject. But Serena told him of her schooling
trip
calmly, her placid face not betraying one iota of the pain the attack
gave her.
Nobody at the table saw the tall man enter the restaurant and pass
the
blonde a curious look. Nobody saw his face split into a grin that
didn't quite
reach his eyes. And nobody saw him reach into his coat pocket for a
phone and
make a quick call that made an appointment for an international video
conference
for later that week.
****
"Well, I'm off," Serena dabbed her mouth and placed her white
linen napkin
on the table and smiled at its occupants. "Thanks for lunch. I'll see
you later
at Raye's house?"
When they nodded the affirmative and said their good-byes. She
left them to
continue with their idle chatter as she waved to the owner, Mr. Patel,
and
adjusted her purse strap.
"Excuse me," a deep voice said behind her, stopping her on the
sidewalk.
She turned around nervously, wary at the sound of the stranger's male
voice.
"Yes?" She asked politely, keeping a good distance between their
bodies.
"I was wondering if I might have a word," the tall man gestured to
a dark
limo next to him and parked at the curb.
Serena arched a delicate eyebrow and cut him down with an acid
reply that
was true to her character, "You want me to get into a car alone with a
strange
man? Obviously you believe the myth about dumb blondes."
The man's lips seemed to twitch imperceptibly. Smart sunglasses
covered his
eyes and Serena wished she wasn't wearing them so she could gauge his
expression. "Do I look like the type to ravish you in broad daylight?"
Serena took the invitation to give the man an appraisal. His clean
cut
manner looked honest enough, but there was something menacing in his
broad, six
foot two frame. Neatly trimmed ebony hair complimented his dark suit.
His entire
aura gave off a suave, cultured air that wasn't dangerous—at least not
in the
typical definition. But there was something dangerous in the curl of
curiosity
that swept through her at what the man wanted.
She rolled her blue eyes and smiled aloofly. "I don't think so."
Turning,
she continued walking, her low heels clicking on the cement. It took
less than a
second for her to hear heavy footsteps behind her. She spun around,
anger in her
eyes and voice. "What?" She snapped.
The man held up his hands in surrender. "Whoa. I just want to talk
to you."
"Sure, "talk". Right." Her caustic tone let him know exactly what
she
thought about his suggestion.
He grew angry as he whipped off his sunglasses, his cobalt eyes
narrowed in
annoyance. "Look lady, if I wanted sex, there are quite a few willing
women who
would be more than happy to take care of that for me. So there would no
reason
for me to attack you in broad daylight. And if I was an ax-murderer, do
you
really think I'd invite you to a limousine to discuss business?"
She gave him a saccharine sweet smile. "I bet you say that to all
your
victims."
He smiled at her remark, his lopsided grin breaking his hard, dark
face. "I
wanted to offer you a job."
"Do I really look unemployed?"
When he looked at her, his thoughts had nothing to do with
business. Her
slim frame was fit into a cream colored, chic suit. The thigh length
skirt and
matching blazer subtly covered her figure, but Darien's shrewd gaze
could easily
detect the soft, feminine physique beneath them. And there was no
hiding the
beauty in her expressive face, even with her thick hair pulled back in
the
severe bun. Wide set aquamarine eyes were placed above a pert nose.
They were
both above a pink mouth that was captivating to watch move.
"No." He cleared his throat and finally spoke. "But I'm prepared
to pay you
more than your current job is."
"Is that right," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in a
belligerent fashion. "And what might this "job" be?"
He resented her implication that the vocation was anything less
than above
reproach stung him. "A translator," he said frostily, tucking his
sunglasses
inside his coat.
Her face lost its patronizing smirk. "I don't—"
Before she could continue denying it, he cut in, "Before you start
lying to
me, let me tell you something. I heard you back in the restaurant and I
need
someone who speaks and understands Hindi fluently."
"Why?" She inquired boldly, meeting his blue gaze head on.
He didn't so much as twitch from her steady stare. "Because I'm
about to
make a business proposition to the head of the communications
department there."
She nodded, fixing him with an icy stare that had won her her
infamous
nickname. "I see. You do realize, of course, that the majority of
India's
population has been schooled to learn English flawlessly from when they
are in
first grade?"
"Of course, as are multiple other countries. But I still feel that
people
are more comfortable speaking their first language. And you, my dear,
can
provide that comfort."
Perhaps it was the way the words 'my dear' sounded so glib on his
tongue,
or maybe it was how he looked her up and down when speaking, but Serena
suddenly
felt warm and irritated all at the same time. Mentally giving herself a
firm
shake, she brought her penetrating gaze back up to the stranger's face.
"So I'm supposed to help you make the poor man feel at home so you
can zero
in for the kill?"
He smiled blithely. "Like I told you, I'm a business man, not an
ax-murderer."
"And if I told you they were one in the same?"
"Touché." He smiled, his hard blue eyes glinting in the sun. His
lips
curled up to reveal a row of perfectly white teeth.
"Well, it's been grand, Mr…" Serena paused, cueing him to give her
his
name.
"McDermott."
"Yes, well, it's been grand, Mr. McDermott, but I'm afraid you'll
have to
find yourself someone else." She shrugged apologetically and turned,
walking
away with quick, punctuating strides.
"But I want you!" He exclaimed behind her.
She raised an eyebrow at the double entendre when she looked over
her
shoulder at him. He didn't blush, rather, he just stared right back at
her, his
masked expression revealing nothing.
"I'm sorry, Mr. McDermott," she said simply. They stared at each
other for
a moment, each frustrated at the other's stubbornness. Finally, Serena
broke the
moment by getting into the back of the cab that had stopped for her.
Darien watched her in the back of the car, her perfect posture
looking out
the window at something indefinable. He watched her profile for as long
as he
could before the yellow car swerved and was out of sight. Shaking his
head
slowly, he smiled at the challenge she would prove to be. He slipped
into the
back of the limousine and gave the chauffer directions. His thoughts
slipped
back to the elusive woman once again. One thing was for certain: There
was more
to Serena Corday than met the eye. And he intended to find out every
last detail
of it.
Chapter One
By: Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Alt, Romance
www.geocities.com/karismafanfic
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
June 2001
London, England 2001
Darien McDermott sat at his desk, impatiently waiting for his
secretary to come in with his messages. Loosening his tie restlessly,
he spun around in his chair to peer over his office's view. The entire
back wall was solid glass, allowing him one of the finest views London
had to offer. Barely glancing at the spectacular evening skyline, he
sighed heavily at the delay his novice secretary was causing him.
Unsure what had possessed his friend to hire such a young,
inexperienced dilettante; he ran an agitated hand through his dark
hair.
He groaned silently when he heard her rush in, breathless. Turning
once again in his plush chair, he held out his hand for the yellow
files. The young girl blushed deeply to the same color of her red hair
when he flipped through them brusquely. Nodding to her curtly, he began
his work, effectively cueing her exit.
Molly Hanson sighed silently, if she was honest with herself, she
realized she had no business starting work with the most demanding man
alive. Fresh out of college, she knew she wasn't experienced enough for
such a challenging job.
After a disastrous first day, she had decided on requesting a transfer.
In fact, she was on her way out the door when Mr. McDermott had called
her back to pull some more files for him in a ridiculously narrow time
slot. Only Superman could please Darien McDermott, and even then he
would tsk-tsk at the delay the fastest man alive had caused him!
Content with her decision, she left his office and immediately
picked up the phone to request another boss in the same building.
Someone who was, preferably, not the CEO of one of the richest, most
powerful, international communication systems in the world.
****
Serena Corday brushed her light hair out of her blue eyes. Typing
rapidly on her laptop, she finished the article with a sudden burst of
inspiration.
Saving it triumphantly, she reached over for her forgotten coffee and
took a sip. Grimacing instantly at the cold, bitter liquid, she
automatically checked her slim watch to find out exactly how long she
had been in the café. Her large eyes widened in alarm as she realized
the time. Snapping her gray laptop shut, she snatched up her bag and
quickly packed up. Running out of the café, she hailed a cab and was
soon whisked away into the London traffic.
She arrived at her sister's home breathless, frantically trying
not to be late for the long anticipated reunion. She entered the cozy
home, warmth surrounding her from all sides as she followed the noise
of laughter into the tactfully decorated living room.
Neha jumped up when she saw Serena. Engulfing her in a tight
embrace, the shorter woman laughed somewhat nervously. When the two
women pulled apart, Neha looked at her friend in nervousness. When they
had last parted, Serena had been in a cold shock while Raye had been
reticent, staring off into space without recognition of anyone. Guilt
seeped through her at what tragedies had befallen her two wonderful
friends. However, when she saw her blonde friend candidly happy to see
her, all worries about the past dissolved.
Serena saw the worried emotions fly across Neha's petite face and
smiled broadly to assure her. She knew the torture the Khans had gone
through when she and Raye had made their hasty departure. Although they
had nothing to do with
Ajay or his thugs, a sense of responsibility had fallen on their
shoulders, making it painful to watch their exchange students leave on
such dreadful terms.
Raye jumped up in excitement and led her older sister to sit next
to a grown up Raj. They all exchanged pleasantries before a unpleasant
silence spread over them.
Typical Raye, desiring everyone to be comfortable and happy,
chattered on about humorous times that had taken place during the stay.
However, everyone was not pondering over the anecdotes, they were
remembering a more somber experience. The recollection of the hospital
where Raye had lay, so still, so pale, her face crumbling with
understanding as she learned of her inability to bear children.
But Raye had found a man who understood and loved her regardless.
In light of her usual trusting nature, it should not have surprised
Serena that Raye had taken to loving the company of the opposite sex so
quickly. Within two years she was dating Chad steadily. They had gotten
engaged and finally married; the couple was now looking forward to the
adoption process that would start within the next month.
Serena had never fully forgotten, nor gotten over, the incident.
When she had arrived back to American soil, the justice system had done
nothing to help her considering the crime had been committed in India,
regardless of it happening to one of their citizens. No one had wanted
to take a case he was sure to lose. The legalities in India were
derisory. Not only were judges easily bribed into seeing nothing of
importance in a rape, they were also sexist, resulting in only
patronizing pity that was nothing close to the hard justice
Serena craved.
So their attackers had gotten off scot-free. With not even a slap
on the wrist to appease her, Serena had gone off to college, refusing
dates and thereby winning the delightful nickname: Cold fish Corday.
She had focused all her energies on writing and obtaining her
degree. She had discovered her passion for journalism immediately after
the attack. She dreamt of writing scathing pieces that would tell the
world about the injustices done to her and millions of women all over
the world. At first, it was only a venting process for her; her pent up
anger would be released in a page long biting diatribe. But then, after
a long talk with her professor, she was told she had raw talent, talent
that would be a shame to waste. From then on, she had the pleasure of
acquiring a goal that could take up all her energy and time. She had
learned after the attack too much time on her hands would only result
in insanity. Early on, she trained herself to harvest all her mind,
body, and soul to the task at hand and never let herself think for too
long.
Eventually, her hard work and insane hours paid off when she was
offered a job in London for a newspaper. She had built herself up to
attain a column where she would write about life perspectives and offer
humor and poignancy to all who read it.
The job was not as full time as she would have liked, the hours
were wonderful to someone who had a busy social calendar. Serena,
however, only had her work to keep her occupied and writing an article
a week paid well, but did nothing to ease the dread of going home alone
to face her thoughts. She was forever looking for something to fill
more of her time. She had tried hobbies and writing a novel, the former
was frustratingly mundane and the latter only magnified the ache of the
attack and her empty life subsequent to it.
Words could not describe how happy she was for her sister, but
sometimes, when she was in her bed at night, she couldn't help but wish
she, too, had someone to wean strength from. But it was crazy talk, for
it seemed Serena Corday was doomed to a solitary life, for who wanted
damaged goods with scarring pasts? However crude the statements, Serena
knew understanding men such as Chad were hard to come by, and that was
with Raye's sweet disposition. Of course, it wasn't like she had tried
to involve herself into a serious relationship with man, but she was
getting there. Serena realized that not all men were evil; she
consciously was comfortable with many of them. But even now, seven
years later, at the mature age of twenty-four, she would freeze, or
experience the terrifying moment of acute panic if a man looked at her
in a certain way, or touched her when she wasn't aware of it. But she
was getting better with time. It was only a matter of someone willing
to go through the turmoil of an intimate relationship with her. She was
sarcastic, biting, and downright rude at times. What man on earth would
want to put up with that on top of the baggage she came with?
****
Darien hung up his phone, satisfied with the pleasing news that he
would have another secretary brought to him first thing tomorrow. He
was assured this one was experienced, practiced, and most importantly,
middle aged. The last thing he needed was a mindless, twenty year old
female hanging on his every word with a giggle and blush at every
glance. A secretary in her fifties would be stiff, efficient, and not
too personal, ensuring privacy and no expectations for a camaraderie
after hours.
He stretched in his chair, rubbing the tension out of his neck
with one hand while the other dialed another number.
"Hello, Ken?"
"Darien?" A groggy voice came through. "What's the matter? What
happened?"
"Nothing happened, I just wanted to discuss those figures you
found today."
"You mean yesterday." Ken's voice took an oddly peeved tone.
"Yesterday?"
"Yes, yesterday, you workaholic. It's two a.m.!" With that, Darien
received the sharp dial tone.
Only Ken would dare hang up on him and that was only because they
had known each other since boyhood. The small fact that Darien was
Ken's boss did nothing to hinder their friendship as the two kept their
business life and friendship on two different levels.
Darien sighed heavily as he, too, hung up his phone. Grabbing his
jacket and briefcase, he closed his office behind him. Nodding
cordially to the alert security man near the glass doors, he fished out
his keys and unlocked the expensive Mercedes.
Driving home on the deserted roads, his mind never left his
office, discerning business tactics and deals, debating mergers and
numbers and facts into a calculated mind whose intellect was only
surpassed by its astounding memory.
Pulling into his four-car garage, Darien entered the opulent house
through the garage door. He passed the luxurious paintings and
expensive furniture with nonchalance, pausing only to glance at the
dinner his housekeeper had left him.
Not bothering to fix himself a plate, Darien headed toward the master
bedroom and showered, his mind rethinking the possibility of a merger
India.
The benefits would be wonderful, communication between the country
and the
United States was wonderful. He had set up multiple deals in the
States, it made sense to make acquaintances in India. The initial cost
would be exorbitant, but the end results would be lucrative if he
played his cards right. He was positive setting up a camp in the heart
of India would be wise, but how to go about it was a conundrum. Darien
would need to set up a deal that would be appealing to the
communication officers there and in order to make him feel at ease,
there was one obvious factor he would require: a translator. That much
was obvious and once they felt comfortable there, he could begin the
negotiations to make GRC
India's new communications systems.
****
Serena entered the restaurant, the spicy smells and cultural
environment reminding her off all the things she loved about India. She
spotted Raye immediately and smiled. Walking toward the table, she
greeted her half sister and her husband, her voice soft and blended in
with the music softly playing.
She sat down next to Neha and her brother, laying her napkin on her
lap. The
conversation was light as they waited for the waiter to come to their
table.
When the owner of the posh restaurant came to see them, the party
of five
looked up, surprised. Speaking in Hindi, the impeccably dressed man
greeted Neha
and Raj with a warm smile. They responded enthusiastically, they had
not seen
many Indian people in their trip and were reminded of home to see this
short,
slightly plump man.
Raye looked at Serena and winked. She had forgotten whatever Hindi
she had
picked up immediately after the attack. The doctors thought it was her
way of
effectively dismissing all associated with the rape. The inability to
recall the
language must have been subconscious because Raye was dismayed to
forget her
second language. Serena however, begging for the release of
forgetting,
forgetting it all: the attack, the language, the culture, everything.
But she
couldn't, and part of her didn't want to; She loved the culture and
there were
wonderful things about the country that she admired. She wouldn't give
the
attack the satisfaction of letting her hate the very things she yearned
to learn
about. So Serena remained fluent in Hindi, and although she was rusty,
she
decided to participate in the conversation and give the cordial man a
shock.
"Namaste, sahi. Aap kaisee hoon?" She had asked him how he was and
the
happy surprise written on his face was answer enough as his grin grew
broader.
He answered cheerfully, retelling of how his wife and children
were faring.
They chatted about where in India he was from and how his relatives
back home
were doing. When he asked how she knew Hindi, Neha shifted
uncomfortably in her
seat, aware of the tense subject. But Serena told him of her schooling
trip
calmly, her placid face not betraying one iota of the pain the attack
gave her.
Nobody at the table saw the tall man enter the restaurant and pass
the
blonde a curious look. Nobody saw his face split into a grin that
didn't quite
reach his eyes. And nobody saw him reach into his coat pocket for a
phone and
make a quick call that made an appointment for an international video
conference
for later that week.
****
"Well, I'm off," Serena dabbed her mouth and placed her white
linen napkin
on the table and smiled at its occupants. "Thanks for lunch. I'll see
you later
at Raye's house?"
When they nodded the affirmative and said their good-byes. She
left them to
continue with their idle chatter as she waved to the owner, Mr. Patel,
and
adjusted her purse strap.
"Excuse me," a deep voice said behind her, stopping her on the
sidewalk.
She turned around nervously, wary at the sound of the stranger's male
voice.
"Yes?" She asked politely, keeping a good distance between their
bodies.
"I was wondering if I might have a word," the tall man gestured to
a dark
limo next to him and parked at the curb.
Serena arched a delicate eyebrow and cut him down with an acid
reply that
was true to her character, "You want me to get into a car alone with a
strange
man? Obviously you believe the myth about dumb blondes."
The man's lips seemed to twitch imperceptibly. Smart sunglasses
covered his
eyes and Serena wished she wasn't wearing them so she could gauge his
expression. "Do I look like the type to ravish you in broad daylight?"
Serena took the invitation to give the man an appraisal. His clean
cut
manner looked honest enough, but there was something menacing in his
broad, six
foot two frame. Neatly trimmed ebony hair complimented his dark suit.
His entire
aura gave off a suave, cultured air that wasn't dangerous—at least not
in the
typical definition. But there was something dangerous in the curl of
curiosity
that swept through her at what the man wanted.
She rolled her blue eyes and smiled aloofly. "I don't think so."
Turning,
she continued walking, her low heels clicking on the cement. It took
less than a
second for her to hear heavy footsteps behind her. She spun around,
anger in her
eyes and voice. "What?" She snapped.
The man held up his hands in surrender. "Whoa. I just want to talk
to you."
"Sure, "talk". Right." Her caustic tone let him know exactly what
she
thought about his suggestion.
He grew angry as he whipped off his sunglasses, his cobalt eyes
narrowed in
annoyance. "Look lady, if I wanted sex, there are quite a few willing
women who
would be more than happy to take care of that for me. So there would no
reason
for me to attack you in broad daylight. And if I was an ax-murderer, do
you
really think I'd invite you to a limousine to discuss business?"
She gave him a saccharine sweet smile. "I bet you say that to all
your
victims."
He smiled at her remark, his lopsided grin breaking his hard, dark
face. "I
wanted to offer you a job."
"Do I really look unemployed?"
When he looked at her, his thoughts had nothing to do with
business. Her
slim frame was fit into a cream colored, chic suit. The thigh length
skirt and
matching blazer subtly covered her figure, but Darien's shrewd gaze
could easily
detect the soft, feminine physique beneath them. And there was no
hiding the
beauty in her expressive face, even with her thick hair pulled back in
the
severe bun. Wide set aquamarine eyes were placed above a pert nose.
They were
both above a pink mouth that was captivating to watch move.
"No." He cleared his throat and finally spoke. "But I'm prepared
to pay you
more than your current job is."
"Is that right," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in a
belligerent fashion. "And what might this "job" be?"
He resented her implication that the vocation was anything less
than above
reproach stung him. "A translator," he said frostily, tucking his
sunglasses
inside his coat.
Her face lost its patronizing smirk. "I don't—"
Before she could continue denying it, he cut in, "Before you start
lying to
me, let me tell you something. I heard you back in the restaurant and I
need
someone who speaks and understands Hindi fluently."
"Why?" She inquired boldly, meeting his blue gaze head on.
He didn't so much as twitch from her steady stare. "Because I'm
about to
make a business proposition to the head of the communications
department there."
She nodded, fixing him with an icy stare that had won her her
infamous
nickname. "I see. You do realize, of course, that the majority of
India's
population has been schooled to learn English flawlessly from when they
are in
first grade?"
"Of course, as are multiple other countries. But I still feel that
people
are more comfortable speaking their first language. And you, my dear,
can
provide that comfort."
Perhaps it was the way the words 'my dear' sounded so glib on his
tongue,
or maybe it was how he looked her up and down when speaking, but Serena
suddenly
felt warm and irritated all at the same time. Mentally giving herself a
firm
shake, she brought her penetrating gaze back up to the stranger's face.
"So I'm supposed to help you make the poor man feel at home so you
can zero
in for the kill?"
He smiled blithely. "Like I told you, I'm a business man, not an
ax-murderer."
"And if I told you they were one in the same?"
"Touché." He smiled, his hard blue eyes glinting in the sun. His
lips
curled up to reveal a row of perfectly white teeth.
"Well, it's been grand, Mr…" Serena paused, cueing him to give her
his
name.
"McDermott."
"Yes, well, it's been grand, Mr. McDermott, but I'm afraid you'll
have to
find yourself someone else." She shrugged apologetically and turned,
walking
away with quick, punctuating strides.
"But I want you!" He exclaimed behind her.
She raised an eyebrow at the double entendre when she looked over
her
shoulder at him. He didn't blush, rather, he just stared right back at
her, his
masked expression revealing nothing.
"I'm sorry, Mr. McDermott," she said simply. They stared at each
other for
a moment, each frustrated at the other's stubbornness. Finally, Serena
broke the
moment by getting into the back of the cab that had stopped for her.
Darien watched her in the back of the car, her perfect posture
looking out
the window at something indefinable. He watched her profile for as long
as he
could before the yellow car swerved and was out of sight. Shaking his
head
slowly, he smiled at the challenge she would prove to be. He slipped
into the
back of the limousine and gave the chauffer directions. His thoughts
slipped
back to the elusive woman once again. One thing was for certain: There
was more
to Serena Corday than met the eye. And he intended to find out every
last detail
of it.