Broken
Chapter Two
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Romance, Alt.
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
June 2001
FINALS ARE OVER!! AND NOW I AM GOING ON VACATION FOR THREE WEEKS. DON'T
WORRY. THERE IS AN INTERNET CONNECTION...YOU'LL GET NEW CHAPTERS. :)
THAT'S ALL YOU WANT FROM ME, ISN'T IT? :( LOL GO ON READ!!!
Serena stepped out of her apartment building; the dismal sky
offered a zephyr that ruffled her hair lovingly. She had opted to wear
it down today, something she rarely dared to do after the trip. Male
attention could be downright dangerous at times. But today she was
feeling adventurous and effervescent. Who knew? Today she might
actually accept the habitual asking of an editor at the paper for a
date.
"I know you want this job," a cool voice behind her said.
She spun around, terror initially running through her veins before
she recognized the aloof man in the expensive suit. Trying to calm her
beating heart, she allowed herself the privilege of growing angry at
his audacity.
"It appears to me you need an English translator, Mr. McDermott,"
she uttered laconically, "Because you obviously don't know what the
word 'no' means."
He grinned and caught up with her, striding instep with her paces.
Despite her tall, five foot seven frame, her hurried steps were no
match for his casual, long ones. She finally gave up, stopping in her
tracks and whirling to face him, her flushed face blazing up at him.
"Do you ever give up?"
"No, not usually." He grinned amicably and winked at her.
She blew out her breath at the corner of her mouth, puffing a
wayward strand of hair out of her face. It was then Darien realized how
fetching she was, and how even if she remained adamant in her refusal
of his proposal, he would still come after her. For more personal
reasons that platonic ones.
"But I know you want this. Raye told me you were looking for
something to fill your extra time—"
She held up her small hands to stop him. "Raye? You talked to
Raye?" Her sparkling eyes grew wider.
"Sure, she and Chad are wonderful hosts." The twinkle was back in
his eye, and it occurred to Serena that he was having fun with her as a
challenge.
"Fine."
"Fine what?" He teased, knowing full well what he admittance
meant.
She arched her blonde brow at him in disdain. "I'll take the job,
Mr. McDermott. We can discuss payment and the hours later." With that,
she walked away, giving him the same amount of interest as she would
bestow upon an insect.
Darien watched her expressionlessly before pulling out a small
black phone and confirming an international video conference for two
days from now.
****
Serena typed her article later that day, her mind still on the
enigmatic, persistent man that had wheedled her into a job. She
supposed he was handsome, if you got over his complete lack of manners.
Talking to her at a public restaurant was one thing, blindsiding her at
her home was a complete other! She sighed, she would get an earful from
Raye about the "handsome" man that came asking about her.
Shaking herself out of her thoughts by a physical movement, she
stared at her black screen stupidly. Typing a few keys, green letters
glowed back at her. After a few seconds of silence, a slow smile curved
up her full lips. Mr. McDermott may have been useful after all. She
began to rapidly type.
I'm no Ms. Manners, but I do know when something has gone too far. The
manners
of today's society have gone from meager to nonexistent. The other day
I was
accosted by a young man who persisted to...
****
" 'Coax me into a job I didn't really want. Mind you, I had never
met this man in my life and yet he had the nerve to stop me in the
middle of a busy sidewalk and all but beg me to do him this favor!'."
Darien put down the paper with a resound thump as he finished reading
all he wanted to. Taking a long sip of his hot black coffee, he fought
the urge to smile at his new employee's acerbic recount. Beg, indeed!
He had reread the article countless times, each time appreciated
the subtle wit she injected into her column. Staring at his computer
screen, he stretched his fingers and buzzed in his secretary.
"Margerie," he called to his replacement, "I don't want to accept and
calls or visitors for the next two hours."
"Yes, sir," the elderly woman replied, her tone brusque and
efficient as she clicked him off.
He lost track of time, but was jilted out of his paper work to see
a woman stride in through the double oak doors as if she owned the
entire building. Darien looked up with an arched brow to see Serena in
the middle of his opulent office, looking around with flagrant
derision.
"It was rather rude of you to give me a job and then make sure your
witch of a secretary didn't let me in." she planted her hands on slack-
clad hips in a belligerent pose.
Darien lifted up the day's paper with a smirk. "I had better be
careful then, I wouldn't want you to write another scathing expose
about my dreadful manners."
She had the grace to blush before her perfect complexion cleared.
"What would I be doing at this job?"
"Translating."
She rolled her eyes at the nebulous reply and primly sat on the
green couch in the expansive office. She watched him warily as he
stepped from his desk down to where she sat. He was so close their
knees where touching; Serena had bend her head up painfully to look up
at him. Nervousness fluttered in her stomach and she was relieved when
he tugged up his slack pants to sit directly across from her.
He named a sum for her paycheck and Serena had to work to keep her
face calm and stoic. The figure was more than generous and she had a
hard time believing it was just for translating.
"What would my hours be?" She took out a notebook pad and had her
pencil poised.
He looked at her, amused. "You'll be here as long as I'm here."
"Excuse me?"
"There's a time difference between here and India, or didn't you
know? I may need you at any given time—the rather liberal paycheck is
for those odd hours." He looked pleased to see her at a loss for words.
He leaned forward, his intent eyes searching her perfect features
thoroughly. His hands were linked casually between his parted knees.
She nodded, regaining her equilibrium in a record time. "That's
fine," she stated, "I can bring my work here." She looked around the
large office, her eyes scanning his desk, the furniture where meetings
were held, the mini bar, and finally him. "Is there some place where I
could write my articles?"
He gestured to the office she had just finished scrutinizing.
"There's plenty of room here."
"Here?" She blanched. Somehow, the idea of working in such close
proximity with this disarming man was troubling. Add that to the late
hours they would be spending alone together…
"Is there a problem?" He asked guilelessly, his eyes exceptionally
wide as if confused by her appalled manner.
She straightened her shoulders. She had promised herself that there
would be no way she would let the attack let her run away scared
forever. She had to start trusting sooner or later. Accepting these
terms would be a great step in the right direction. And if Mr.
McDermott's attentions got a bit too familiar, she could always try out
the moves from the self-defense class she had taken.
"No problem, Mr. McDermott."
"The name is Darien." He stood up and she followed suit, not
wanting to feel vulnerable once again by his looming height.
She nodded. "I'm aware of your name, Mr. McDermott," she said, her
tone even as she returned his intent stare. She turned slightly to her
to grab her coat and purse, efficiently breaking eye contact. When she
faced him again, a bright smile was in place. Folding the overcoat over
her arm and adjusting the purse strap on her shoulder, she stuck out
her hand.
His blue gaze started from her slender hand up to her arm, all the
way down her slim body, and finally back to her face. She shivered from
the lazy approval written on his handsome features. It was as if his
the sparks his cobalt eyes had been palpable. He finally took her
proffered hand in his larger one, engulfing it in warmth.
Serena was surprised at the jolt she felt run through her at the
contact their hands made. She looked down at their joined contact when
he failed to let go after the appropriate time. They were capable
hands, strong and lean without the added clutter jewelry gave. Shocked
at her thoughts, she jerked her hand back none too casually.
"Good-bye, Mr. McDermott," she said breathlessly, her throat dry. A
dainty pink tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly parched lips and
she felt him watch the move with interest. She turned quickly and all
but ran to the formidable doors. Her hand was on the brass knob when
his voice reached her ears.
"You start tomorrow morning, Miss. Corday," his voice was
deliberately mocking as he said the last bit. "Six-thirty."
She stepped out and slammed the door behind her as hard as she
could.
****
Serena stifled a yawn as she rode the elevator up the next morning.
As a writer, she was used to setting her own hours; that meant sleeping
in when she saw fit. Rubbing her make-up free face, she tried to will
her coffee to kick in. The elevator stopped and she stepped out, her
black flats soundless on the marble floor. She nodded to Darien's
secretary, wondering if the woman always looked like she had just
bitten something sour. She slipped through the double doors unannounced
and wasn't surprised to see Darien at his desk, reading intently, only
stopping sporadically to scribble notes.
She cleared her throat and waited for him to notice her. When he
continued with his work, oblivious to her presence, she shrugged and
made herself comfortable on the sofa. She set her laptop on the glass
coffee table and waited while it booted up. Within a few minutes, she
was typing rapidly, making bulletin points for new ideas and how to
elaborate on each one.
An immeasurable amount of time later, she was making an outline for
next week's column when a firm hand clapped down on her shoulder. She
only paused to gasp in terror before she blindly punched backwards,
hearing the affirmative oomph of pain. Serena, then gathering her
senses rather than acting on instinct, jumped up and spun around,
shocked to see Darien cupping his nose with one lean hand.
"Oh! I am so sorry!" She ran around the couch to meet him, her
hands uselessly trying to see if he was all right. "Are you okay?"
He dropped his hand and wrinkled his aristocratic nose a few times.
"I don't think it's broken," he finally assessed, touching it tenderly.
Serena immediately grew edgy after the relief that he was fine.
"Well, you shouldn't have sneaked up on me."
"Well, I wouldn't have if I had known you were Ms. Jackie Chan," he
retorted.
The comment forced a slight smile out of her as she rolled her
eyes. "Hardly."
"Where on earth did you learn to that?"
"Self-defense," she said breezily, heading back to her laptop in
hope that the action would render the conversation terminated.
"Why do you feel you need defense?" He persisted, following her and
plopping his tall frame next to her on the suddenly small sofa.
"I think every woman should feel as if she needs defense," she
stated matter of factly, hoping he wouldn't be able to distinguish the
subconscious clenching of her jaw and tightening of her back.
He watched her profile as she leaned forward and resumed typing;
he stared at her small hands and noticed a small silver band on her
right ring finger. It shone when it caught the light just so, just like
her blonde hair. Snapping himself out of his effusive thoughts, he
recommenced his inquisition.
"Why?"
He saw her straighten, her face drawn into a tight line, her lips
pursing. Her hands stilled as she injected as much calm as she could
into her voice. She continued typing random words to give the air of
nonchalance. "There are hundreds of women attacked a day. If they knew
how to defend themselves, they'd stand a better chance of escaping
safely. Isn't there something you should be doing?"
The last two sentences were so random and rushed together, he took
a second to address the question. "Not until that call comes through."
He smiled innocently at her and she shifted uncomfortably, scooting a
bit away from him.
"Well," she started shakily, disconcerted by his proximity. "When
do expect it?" She jumped up and walked over to the mini bar to pour
herself a glass of water she didn't really want.
He grinned blithely, amused by her antics. "Who knows?"
"I see." She licked her lips nervously, keeping her back to him,
and decided to prevaricate. "So who are these people that you want to
charm the pants off of?" She walked back stiffly and sat pointedly on
the single armchair a good distance away from him.
He noticed her change of seat with a raised eyebrow but did not
comment. "Well, I thought I'd be dealing with the big-wigs from New
Delhi, but it turns out my main partner will be a man from Bombay." He
did not notice her ramrod back grow tauter at the mention of the city.
"I think his last name is Singh; I'll find out for sure when we have
the video conference."
Serena let out a strangled cry and Darien's head snapped up to see
her stricken expression. She seemed to be short of breath but managed
to choke out, "What is his first name?"
"I'm not sure," Darien's brow furrowed as he got up to help her.
She stopped him by holding up a hand. "I'm fine." She took a few
deep breaths. There were plenty of Singhs in all of India, and chances
were it was not an Ajay Singh. She was being paranoid and ridiculous.
They sat in silence before Darien finally broke it. "So how did you
learn Hindi?"
The loaded question, added to the tension that the name Singh
inherently brought, proved to be too much for her. She shot out of the
soft chair and headed toward the door, mumbling some half plausible
excuse about needing to use the restroom.
She splashed cold water on her face repeatedly. What was the matter
with her? She had answered that question plenty of times; each with the
same polite courtesy that left out the major detail of why she left
early. So why was she so tongue-tied with him?
It was the shock of hearing the name Singh after so long, she
decided firmly. Never mind the strange pounding in her ears, or the
thumping of her heart, or the elevated pulse—it was all the adrenaline
of hearing the bitter family name for the first time in years. That had
to be it.
Because there was no way Darien McDermott could be the source of
the havoc her body was wreaking.
****
Darien impatiently waited for Serena to return. Her abrupt
departure had him stumped as well as intrigued. When she finally
entered, her head ducked to avoid his piercing gaze, he remained
silent, choosing not to press the issue of her running out. But, at the
same time, he wasn't about to let her off easy.
"You were right about to tell me how you knew Hindi," he reminded
her politely, watching her cheeks flame with embarrassment.
She cleared her throat. "Right. Well, I was an exchange student
there for quite a few months."
"When?"
"1994."
"How long?"
"Are you always this nosy?"
"No."
The implication that she was special sent her blinking for a few
minutes, her head reeling from the snappy dialogue they had shared.
"Then why start with me?" She bit her lip immediately after the words
left her mouth; she shouldn't have asked, it sounded coy and inviting.
He shrugged and didn't reply. He returned to his desk and commenced
with his work, dismissing her. She, too, went back to typing, forcing
herself not to sneak peeks at his strong profile. He wore glasses when
he worked. They were with invisible frames that left the intellectual
sexiness of a playboy rather than a CEO.
She stared at her screen in astonishment, livid with herself at
where her thoughts were leading. Never, ever, had she let herself think
such thoughts about a man. And why now, with him?
"Mr. McDermott?" Margarie's scratchy voice came through hours later
and Darien pressed a button to answer her. She continued, "A Mr. Sameer
Singh is on hold to start your conference."
Darien grinned broadly, oblivious to Serena's constricted throat
and open mouth. She sat still for a few seconds, her mouth moving
uselessly like that of a fish's. Darien was about to answer to put him
through when Serena slapped his hand of the intercom.
"Don't answer that call," she hissed, her blue eyes showing a
desperation Darien had never seen before in anyone.
"What? Are you mad, Serena? This is the entire foundation of your
job!" He looked up at her flushed face, flabbergasted at the panic he
saw there. "I wouldn't need you here if I didn't take this call!"
She looked down at her small, pale hand lying over his own tan one.
Snatching it away, she stared at him. "It can't be a video conference.
I—I won't do a video conference."
He narrowed his shrewd eyes as his mind worked overtime to figure
out the living enigma in front of him.
She swallowed harshly, afraid he would deny her request. "Make it a
phone conference or I walk."
Deciding to dig deeper into the matter later, he nodded and filled
in his request to Margarie, never taking his eyes off of her relieved
face.
The next few moments where ones Serena valued. They gave her a
chance to gather her equilibrium and prepare herself to face her
attacker's father. But rather than collecting her calm, she instead
found her thoughts drifting back to the horrible day she had naively
thought justice could be served regardless of bank accounts.
Ajay Singh, for all his dirty clothes and poor comportment, came
from one of the richest families in all of India. It was this very same
lineage that allowed judges and lawyers to look the other way when
Serena had filed an official compliant. Upon telling her she had no
case, she had grown infuriated at the court officials, half begging
half demanding a fair trial.
But it was no use; there was no proof. The rape kit and pelvic exam
had accidentally been thrown away, but Serena knew right away that
someone had been paid to throw it in the incinerator. The Khan family
had offered to testify that both sisters had been missing for some
time, but not only was Serena aware that such a testimony would bring
ruin to the family, she also knew that it was not hard evidence as to
what happened. Asking the people of the small village, who Serena later
found out all had jobs under Mr. Sameer Singh, would be laughable.
Their ears were deaf, their eyes blind, and their mouths dumb when it
came to their employer's son's antics.
But of all those despondent realizations, nothing could have
prepared her for finally meeting with Ajay's father, Sameer. He didn't
speak one word to her, but he didn't have to. The derisive look he had
given her had told her volumes. He had known she didn't stand a chance
of winning because he himself had put that judge on the stand. Hand
picked and owing his job to the corrupt man, the judge would have
acquitted Ajay if he had murdered his wife right in front of him. It
was only her that was not privy to the information that there was no
way in hell she could have won that fraudulent trial. Serena had
erroneously assumed the facts would speak for themselves, her bruises
would tell the truth. She still had the pictures taken of her face,
arms, legs, waist, and back where Ajay had beaten her.
But she had been wrong, cruelly so. The judge hadn't waited five
minutes before pronouncing Ajay free of all charges and giving her a
stern lecture in front of fifty people about the dangers of crying wolf
of such a serious charge, especially when accusing a prestigious family
of committing the malfeasance.
She hadn't cried.
She felt the Ajay's eyes burning into her back, willing her to take
the weak approach and sob until she crumpled into a heap on the floor.
But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Besides, she couldn't have,
even if she wanted to weep. There was no sadness in her, no
despondency. She was cold. Numb. Not even anger could reach her now.
She had walked out with her head held high, aware of all the faces
looking at her with a mixture of pity and loathing.
And she hadn't looked back.
"Serena?" Darien repeated, wondering where her mind had gone off
to. "Serena."
She gave herself a physical start and found herself staring into a
pair of concerned blue eyes. "Yes? What, oh sorry."
He gave her a curious look before pressing a series of buttons.
"We're ready to begin."
Chapter Two
By Karisma
Rated: PG-13
Romance, Alt.
Karisma456@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimers Apply
June 2001
FINALS ARE OVER!! AND NOW I AM GOING ON VACATION FOR THREE WEEKS. DON'T
WORRY. THERE IS AN INTERNET CONNECTION...YOU'LL GET NEW CHAPTERS. :)
THAT'S ALL YOU WANT FROM ME, ISN'T IT? :( LOL GO ON READ!!!
Serena stepped out of her apartment building; the dismal sky
offered a zephyr that ruffled her hair lovingly. She had opted to wear
it down today, something she rarely dared to do after the trip. Male
attention could be downright dangerous at times. But today she was
feeling adventurous and effervescent. Who knew? Today she might
actually accept the habitual asking of an editor at the paper for a
date.
"I know you want this job," a cool voice behind her said.
She spun around, terror initially running through her veins before
she recognized the aloof man in the expensive suit. Trying to calm her
beating heart, she allowed herself the privilege of growing angry at
his audacity.
"It appears to me you need an English translator, Mr. McDermott,"
she uttered laconically, "Because you obviously don't know what the
word 'no' means."
He grinned and caught up with her, striding instep with her paces.
Despite her tall, five foot seven frame, her hurried steps were no
match for his casual, long ones. She finally gave up, stopping in her
tracks and whirling to face him, her flushed face blazing up at him.
"Do you ever give up?"
"No, not usually." He grinned amicably and winked at her.
She blew out her breath at the corner of her mouth, puffing a
wayward strand of hair out of her face. It was then Darien realized how
fetching she was, and how even if she remained adamant in her refusal
of his proposal, he would still come after her. For more personal
reasons that platonic ones.
"But I know you want this. Raye told me you were looking for
something to fill your extra time—"
She held up her small hands to stop him. "Raye? You talked to
Raye?" Her sparkling eyes grew wider.
"Sure, she and Chad are wonderful hosts." The twinkle was back in
his eye, and it occurred to Serena that he was having fun with her as a
challenge.
"Fine."
"Fine what?" He teased, knowing full well what he admittance
meant.
She arched her blonde brow at him in disdain. "I'll take the job,
Mr. McDermott. We can discuss payment and the hours later." With that,
she walked away, giving him the same amount of interest as she would
bestow upon an insect.
Darien watched her expressionlessly before pulling out a small
black phone and confirming an international video conference for two
days from now.
****
Serena typed her article later that day, her mind still on the
enigmatic, persistent man that had wheedled her into a job. She
supposed he was handsome, if you got over his complete lack of manners.
Talking to her at a public restaurant was one thing, blindsiding her at
her home was a complete other! She sighed, she would get an earful from
Raye about the "handsome" man that came asking about her.
Shaking herself out of her thoughts by a physical movement, she
stared at her black screen stupidly. Typing a few keys, green letters
glowed back at her. After a few seconds of silence, a slow smile curved
up her full lips. Mr. McDermott may have been useful after all. She
began to rapidly type.
I'm no Ms. Manners, but I do know when something has gone too far. The
manners
of today's society have gone from meager to nonexistent. The other day
I was
accosted by a young man who persisted to...
****
" 'Coax me into a job I didn't really want. Mind you, I had never
met this man in my life and yet he had the nerve to stop me in the
middle of a busy sidewalk and all but beg me to do him this favor!'."
Darien put down the paper with a resound thump as he finished reading
all he wanted to. Taking a long sip of his hot black coffee, he fought
the urge to smile at his new employee's acerbic recount. Beg, indeed!
He had reread the article countless times, each time appreciated
the subtle wit she injected into her column. Staring at his computer
screen, he stretched his fingers and buzzed in his secretary.
"Margerie," he called to his replacement, "I don't want to accept and
calls or visitors for the next two hours."
"Yes, sir," the elderly woman replied, her tone brusque and
efficient as she clicked him off.
He lost track of time, but was jilted out of his paper work to see
a woman stride in through the double oak doors as if she owned the
entire building. Darien looked up with an arched brow to see Serena in
the middle of his opulent office, looking around with flagrant
derision.
"It was rather rude of you to give me a job and then make sure your
witch of a secretary didn't let me in." she planted her hands on slack-
clad hips in a belligerent pose.
Darien lifted up the day's paper with a smirk. "I had better be
careful then, I wouldn't want you to write another scathing expose
about my dreadful manners."
She had the grace to blush before her perfect complexion cleared.
"What would I be doing at this job?"
"Translating."
She rolled her eyes at the nebulous reply and primly sat on the
green couch in the expansive office. She watched him warily as he
stepped from his desk down to where she sat. He was so close their
knees where touching; Serena had bend her head up painfully to look up
at him. Nervousness fluttered in her stomach and she was relieved when
he tugged up his slack pants to sit directly across from her.
He named a sum for her paycheck and Serena had to work to keep her
face calm and stoic. The figure was more than generous and she had a
hard time believing it was just for translating.
"What would my hours be?" She took out a notebook pad and had her
pencil poised.
He looked at her, amused. "You'll be here as long as I'm here."
"Excuse me?"
"There's a time difference between here and India, or didn't you
know? I may need you at any given time—the rather liberal paycheck is
for those odd hours." He looked pleased to see her at a loss for words.
He leaned forward, his intent eyes searching her perfect features
thoroughly. His hands were linked casually between his parted knees.
She nodded, regaining her equilibrium in a record time. "That's
fine," she stated, "I can bring my work here." She looked around the
large office, her eyes scanning his desk, the furniture where meetings
were held, the mini bar, and finally him. "Is there some place where I
could write my articles?"
He gestured to the office she had just finished scrutinizing.
"There's plenty of room here."
"Here?" She blanched. Somehow, the idea of working in such close
proximity with this disarming man was troubling. Add that to the late
hours they would be spending alone together…
"Is there a problem?" He asked guilelessly, his eyes exceptionally
wide as if confused by her appalled manner.
She straightened her shoulders. She had promised herself that there
would be no way she would let the attack let her run away scared
forever. She had to start trusting sooner or later. Accepting these
terms would be a great step in the right direction. And if Mr.
McDermott's attentions got a bit too familiar, she could always try out
the moves from the self-defense class she had taken.
"No problem, Mr. McDermott."
"The name is Darien." He stood up and she followed suit, not
wanting to feel vulnerable once again by his looming height.
She nodded. "I'm aware of your name, Mr. McDermott," she said, her
tone even as she returned his intent stare. She turned slightly to her
to grab her coat and purse, efficiently breaking eye contact. When she
faced him again, a bright smile was in place. Folding the overcoat over
her arm and adjusting the purse strap on her shoulder, she stuck out
her hand.
His blue gaze started from her slender hand up to her arm, all the
way down her slim body, and finally back to her face. She shivered from
the lazy approval written on his handsome features. It was as if his
the sparks his cobalt eyes had been palpable. He finally took her
proffered hand in his larger one, engulfing it in warmth.
Serena was surprised at the jolt she felt run through her at the
contact their hands made. She looked down at their joined contact when
he failed to let go after the appropriate time. They were capable
hands, strong and lean without the added clutter jewelry gave. Shocked
at her thoughts, she jerked her hand back none too casually.
"Good-bye, Mr. McDermott," she said breathlessly, her throat dry. A
dainty pink tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly parched lips and
she felt him watch the move with interest. She turned quickly and all
but ran to the formidable doors. Her hand was on the brass knob when
his voice reached her ears.
"You start tomorrow morning, Miss. Corday," his voice was
deliberately mocking as he said the last bit. "Six-thirty."
She stepped out and slammed the door behind her as hard as she
could.
****
Serena stifled a yawn as she rode the elevator up the next morning.
As a writer, she was used to setting her own hours; that meant sleeping
in when she saw fit. Rubbing her make-up free face, she tried to will
her coffee to kick in. The elevator stopped and she stepped out, her
black flats soundless on the marble floor. She nodded to Darien's
secretary, wondering if the woman always looked like she had just
bitten something sour. She slipped through the double doors unannounced
and wasn't surprised to see Darien at his desk, reading intently, only
stopping sporadically to scribble notes.
She cleared her throat and waited for him to notice her. When he
continued with his work, oblivious to her presence, she shrugged and
made herself comfortable on the sofa. She set her laptop on the glass
coffee table and waited while it booted up. Within a few minutes, she
was typing rapidly, making bulletin points for new ideas and how to
elaborate on each one.
An immeasurable amount of time later, she was making an outline for
next week's column when a firm hand clapped down on her shoulder. She
only paused to gasp in terror before she blindly punched backwards,
hearing the affirmative oomph of pain. Serena, then gathering her
senses rather than acting on instinct, jumped up and spun around,
shocked to see Darien cupping his nose with one lean hand.
"Oh! I am so sorry!" She ran around the couch to meet him, her
hands uselessly trying to see if he was all right. "Are you okay?"
He dropped his hand and wrinkled his aristocratic nose a few times.
"I don't think it's broken," he finally assessed, touching it tenderly.
Serena immediately grew edgy after the relief that he was fine.
"Well, you shouldn't have sneaked up on me."
"Well, I wouldn't have if I had known you were Ms. Jackie Chan," he
retorted.
The comment forced a slight smile out of her as she rolled her
eyes. "Hardly."
"Where on earth did you learn to that?"
"Self-defense," she said breezily, heading back to her laptop in
hope that the action would render the conversation terminated.
"Why do you feel you need defense?" He persisted, following her and
plopping his tall frame next to her on the suddenly small sofa.
"I think every woman should feel as if she needs defense," she
stated matter of factly, hoping he wouldn't be able to distinguish the
subconscious clenching of her jaw and tightening of her back.
He watched her profile as she leaned forward and resumed typing;
he stared at her small hands and noticed a small silver band on her
right ring finger. It shone when it caught the light just so, just like
her blonde hair. Snapping himself out of his effusive thoughts, he
recommenced his inquisition.
"Why?"
He saw her straighten, her face drawn into a tight line, her lips
pursing. Her hands stilled as she injected as much calm as she could
into her voice. She continued typing random words to give the air of
nonchalance. "There are hundreds of women attacked a day. If they knew
how to defend themselves, they'd stand a better chance of escaping
safely. Isn't there something you should be doing?"
The last two sentences were so random and rushed together, he took
a second to address the question. "Not until that call comes through."
He smiled innocently at her and she shifted uncomfortably, scooting a
bit away from him.
"Well," she started shakily, disconcerted by his proximity. "When
do expect it?" She jumped up and walked over to the mini bar to pour
herself a glass of water she didn't really want.
He grinned blithely, amused by her antics. "Who knows?"
"I see." She licked her lips nervously, keeping her back to him,
and decided to prevaricate. "So who are these people that you want to
charm the pants off of?" She walked back stiffly and sat pointedly on
the single armchair a good distance away from him.
He noticed her change of seat with a raised eyebrow but did not
comment. "Well, I thought I'd be dealing with the big-wigs from New
Delhi, but it turns out my main partner will be a man from Bombay." He
did not notice her ramrod back grow tauter at the mention of the city.
"I think his last name is Singh; I'll find out for sure when we have
the video conference."
Serena let out a strangled cry and Darien's head snapped up to see
her stricken expression. She seemed to be short of breath but managed
to choke out, "What is his first name?"
"I'm not sure," Darien's brow furrowed as he got up to help her.
She stopped him by holding up a hand. "I'm fine." She took a few
deep breaths. There were plenty of Singhs in all of India, and chances
were it was not an Ajay Singh. She was being paranoid and ridiculous.
They sat in silence before Darien finally broke it. "So how did you
learn Hindi?"
The loaded question, added to the tension that the name Singh
inherently brought, proved to be too much for her. She shot out of the
soft chair and headed toward the door, mumbling some half plausible
excuse about needing to use the restroom.
She splashed cold water on her face repeatedly. What was the matter
with her? She had answered that question plenty of times; each with the
same polite courtesy that left out the major detail of why she left
early. So why was she so tongue-tied with him?
It was the shock of hearing the name Singh after so long, she
decided firmly. Never mind the strange pounding in her ears, or the
thumping of her heart, or the elevated pulse—it was all the adrenaline
of hearing the bitter family name for the first time in years. That had
to be it.
Because there was no way Darien McDermott could be the source of
the havoc her body was wreaking.
****
Darien impatiently waited for Serena to return. Her abrupt
departure had him stumped as well as intrigued. When she finally
entered, her head ducked to avoid his piercing gaze, he remained
silent, choosing not to press the issue of her running out. But, at the
same time, he wasn't about to let her off easy.
"You were right about to tell me how you knew Hindi," he reminded
her politely, watching her cheeks flame with embarrassment.
She cleared her throat. "Right. Well, I was an exchange student
there for quite a few months."
"When?"
"1994."
"How long?"
"Are you always this nosy?"
"No."
The implication that she was special sent her blinking for a few
minutes, her head reeling from the snappy dialogue they had shared.
"Then why start with me?" She bit her lip immediately after the words
left her mouth; she shouldn't have asked, it sounded coy and inviting.
He shrugged and didn't reply. He returned to his desk and commenced
with his work, dismissing her. She, too, went back to typing, forcing
herself not to sneak peeks at his strong profile. He wore glasses when
he worked. They were with invisible frames that left the intellectual
sexiness of a playboy rather than a CEO.
She stared at her screen in astonishment, livid with herself at
where her thoughts were leading. Never, ever, had she let herself think
such thoughts about a man. And why now, with him?
"Mr. McDermott?" Margarie's scratchy voice came through hours later
and Darien pressed a button to answer her. She continued, "A Mr. Sameer
Singh is on hold to start your conference."
Darien grinned broadly, oblivious to Serena's constricted throat
and open mouth. She sat still for a few seconds, her mouth moving
uselessly like that of a fish's. Darien was about to answer to put him
through when Serena slapped his hand of the intercom.
"Don't answer that call," she hissed, her blue eyes showing a
desperation Darien had never seen before in anyone.
"What? Are you mad, Serena? This is the entire foundation of your
job!" He looked up at her flushed face, flabbergasted at the panic he
saw there. "I wouldn't need you here if I didn't take this call!"
She looked down at her small, pale hand lying over his own tan one.
Snatching it away, she stared at him. "It can't be a video conference.
I—I won't do a video conference."
He narrowed his shrewd eyes as his mind worked overtime to figure
out the living enigma in front of him.
She swallowed harshly, afraid he would deny her request. "Make it a
phone conference or I walk."
Deciding to dig deeper into the matter later, he nodded and filled
in his request to Margarie, never taking his eyes off of her relieved
face.
The next few moments where ones Serena valued. They gave her a
chance to gather her equilibrium and prepare herself to face her
attacker's father. But rather than collecting her calm, she instead
found her thoughts drifting back to the horrible day she had naively
thought justice could be served regardless of bank accounts.
Ajay Singh, for all his dirty clothes and poor comportment, came
from one of the richest families in all of India. It was this very same
lineage that allowed judges and lawyers to look the other way when
Serena had filed an official compliant. Upon telling her she had no
case, she had grown infuriated at the court officials, half begging
half demanding a fair trial.
But it was no use; there was no proof. The rape kit and pelvic exam
had accidentally been thrown away, but Serena knew right away that
someone had been paid to throw it in the incinerator. The Khan family
had offered to testify that both sisters had been missing for some
time, but not only was Serena aware that such a testimony would bring
ruin to the family, she also knew that it was not hard evidence as to
what happened. Asking the people of the small village, who Serena later
found out all had jobs under Mr. Sameer Singh, would be laughable.
Their ears were deaf, their eyes blind, and their mouths dumb when it
came to their employer's son's antics.
But of all those despondent realizations, nothing could have
prepared her for finally meeting with Ajay's father, Sameer. He didn't
speak one word to her, but he didn't have to. The derisive look he had
given her had told her volumes. He had known she didn't stand a chance
of winning because he himself had put that judge on the stand. Hand
picked and owing his job to the corrupt man, the judge would have
acquitted Ajay if he had murdered his wife right in front of him. It
was only her that was not privy to the information that there was no
way in hell she could have won that fraudulent trial. Serena had
erroneously assumed the facts would speak for themselves, her bruises
would tell the truth. She still had the pictures taken of her face,
arms, legs, waist, and back where Ajay had beaten her.
But she had been wrong, cruelly so. The judge hadn't waited five
minutes before pronouncing Ajay free of all charges and giving her a
stern lecture in front of fifty people about the dangers of crying wolf
of such a serious charge, especially when accusing a prestigious family
of committing the malfeasance.
She hadn't cried.
She felt the Ajay's eyes burning into her back, willing her to take
the weak approach and sob until she crumpled into a heap on the floor.
But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Besides, she couldn't have,
even if she wanted to weep. There was no sadness in her, no
despondency. She was cold. Numb. Not even anger could reach her now.
She had walked out with her head held high, aware of all the faces
looking at her with a mixture of pity and loathing.
And she hadn't looked back.
"Serena?" Darien repeated, wondering where her mind had gone off
to. "Serena."
She gave herself a physical start and found herself staring into a
pair of concerned blue eyes. "Yes? What, oh sorry."
He gave her a curious look before pressing a series of buttons.
"We're ready to begin."