Arrow--Vengeance

by Oscar Balderrama

  * * *

  The end of the day arrived, and the two women prepared to leave. They were interrupted when Mr. Klein popped over to tell Isabel that Mr. Queen wanted to see her. She managed to hide her excitement at the prospect of another late night spent with Robert, talking endlessly about business, and even life in general.

  Her friend shot her a look.

  “Next time, Becca, I swear,” Isabel said as she grabbed her belongings and headed for the elevator to the top floor.

  * * *

  Takeout Chinese food was spread out on the coffee table, mixed with work papers. Isabel sat on the floor eating with chopsticks while Robert sat on the couch across from her. She laughed, despite the fact that her mouth was filled with lo mein.

  “I can’t believe you were arrested in college!” she said. “That’s insane.”

  “Oh, yes, I was young and dumb as most teenagers tend to be—it’s probably where Oliver, gets it from,” Mr. Queen said as he stuffed a dumpling into his mouth. He looked at his watch. “It’s past nine o’clock, please don’t let me keep you if you have weekend plans.”

  “I’m right where I want to be,” Isabel said as she scooped noodles into her mouth.

  Robert grinned, looking pleased with Isabel’s response.

  “So, what about you?” he asked. “What crazy stories do you have from your childhood?”

  Isabel put down her chopsticks and took a long sip of water, clearly not wanting to give away too much information.

  “C’mon, Isabel,” he prompted. “I’ve been your mentor for four months now. This is the third Friday in a row we’ve sat and chatted over cheap takeout, I think I have earned the right to know a little bit more about you. Where are you from? What are your parents like? They must be proud of their daughter.” He moved from the couch to join Isabel on the floor.

  “As cliché as it sounds, my parents were simple people,” she replied reluctantly. “I was born in a small town in Russia where they were also born. My father, whose name was Viktor, made some poor business choices while we lived there. He became indebted to the Bratva, the Russian mob, and, well…” She stopped for a moment, before continuing. “When I was nine years old, they ended up taking both my parents’ lives.” Isabel looked away, and tears slowly welled up in her brown eyes. “So I was shipped off to the States as an orphan. I don’t remember much—I feel like I’ve blocked a lot of those terrible memories from my mind.

  “From that time on, I spent my childhood going from facility to facility, until finally I landed in a foster home. The couple that raised me are lovely people, but I never felt a very strong connection to them, which is why I think I’m sometimes unemotional about things… except for right now,” Isabel said, wiping away her tears and feeling as if she could die from embarrassment.

  Robert reached for her hand. She tried to hide her reaction, but then, in that instant, it didn’t feel all that surprising. In fact, it felt right and—above all—comforting to her. She smiled at the gesture, wiping her eyes again.

  “You are a strong… and special young woman, Isabel,” Robert said. “I am in awe of you.” Isabel felt her heart leap at the compliment, and did her best to brush it aside.

  “So I just poured my heart and soul into school,” she continued. “My parents—the real ones—always told me they wanted my life to be different from theirs. I made a promise to them, and to myself, that one day I would make something of myself. That one day people would know my name, and it would mean something…”

  “That is very admirable, Isabel,” Robert interjected. “However, as I’ve said to you before, don’t forget that there is more to life than work.” He paused, then continued, “Work is wonderful, and gives you a purpose, but don’t let that be the only purpose you have for yourself. Don’t be afraid to take a chance, every now and again.”

  Isabel looked into his eyes as she felt his thumb softly stroke her hand, and realized her mouth had gone dry and she wasn’t physically able to speak.

  “I know what it’s like to come from nothing,” he said. “I remember coming to Starling, and not knowing what to do with myself. I had so many doors slammed in my face. But you and I share a lot of the same qualities, it seems. One of them being perseverance.

  “Many people assume that this name, this empire, the money is all something I’ve had my whole life, but the truth of the matter is, I married into the money, the connections—and the good and bad that come with that. I know what it’s like to struggle—to want and see something for yourself that some days just seems so unobtainable. Yet I’m living proof that it is obtainable.”

  Isabel smiled, appreciating Robert’s willingness to share.

  “It’s given me such joy to watch you grow these past few months, and there isn’t a shadow of a doubt that good fortune will come to you.” He winked. “And that people will know your name.”

  Isabel beamed at his words. She slowly let go of his hand and leaned into him, grabbing the fortune cookie from the table behind him.

  “For now, I’ll have to settle on a fortune cookie,” she said as she unwrapped the cookie from its plastic. Robert grabbed a cookie for himself. Isabel carefully cracked open hers, popping half of it into her mouth as she unraveled the fortune.

  “The greatest risk is not taking one,” she quoted, looking coquettishly at him.

  “A voyage will fill your life with untold mysteries,” Robert read enigmatically, looking at Isabel.

  The two sat in silence for a moment, breathing each other in. Isabel reminded herself of her position—that she was an intern, and Robert was her mentor—but her heart yearned for him. She wanted to find out all there was to know about him, but she stopped herself—realizing her feelings were growing into something beyond the professional. He was the reason she got out of bed in the morning. He was the reason she had changed her wardrobe, and he was the reason she had pep in her step.

  Suddenly, flooded with emotions she didn’t know how to process, Isabel reached for her bag, thanked Robert abruptly for a good time, and left his office.

  4

  Isabel stood in the gathering gloom on the cold doorstep of the Queen mansion, wrapped up in fear.

  She had been curious for quite some time about Robert’s home—how he lived, how lavish his home really was. Standing there nervous in her slate-gray business suit, in her feeble attempt to keep this uncharacteristic personal setting professional, she finally found the courage and knocked on the door. Robert answered in jeans and a polo shirt, a casual look Isabel wasn’t used to seeing.

  “Isabel, so happy you could stop by,” he said, giving her a hug. “Please come in and be warm.”

  As she entered she couldn’t help but gasp at its beauty and scope. Isabel’s entire apartment could have fit into the foyer, with its wide-open space and art scattered on the walls. An array of American landscapes surrounded her. A large golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, looking impressively expensive. Robert led her into the living room, where they were met by plush white furniture and a black grand piano in the corner. The gas fireplace was lit with a roaring flame.

  “This house is incredible,” she finally said.

  “Thank you, although I can’t take credit for much,” Robert replied. “My wife hired decorators, and an old college friend of mine did the overall design.”

  Isabel carefully sat on a pristine white sofa and put her briefcase on her lap. She opened it up, pulled out several folders, and placed them on the glass coffee table.

  “Here are the files you requested,” Isabel stammered, trying to keep composure as Robert took a seat next to her. Why didn’t I sit in a chair? she chided herself.

  “Thank you, but I have to be honest,” Robert said with a note of reluctance, “I called for them as an excuse to see you.” He stopped, and seemed to gather his thoughts. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed. “I had to see you.”

  Isabel blushed at his honesty. It had been several days since their encounter i
n the office, and despite the effort she had put into maintaining a purely professional attitude, she was afraid and excited by what this meant. Her head asked so many questions, but her heart was fluttering with emotion.

  “Is your… family at home?” she stuttered.

  “Moira and Thea are having a mother-daughter weekend in the city, and Oliver is out for the night with his friend, Tommy. He won’t be returning till much later, if at all.” He smiled, then placed his arm along the back of the couch. After a moment, he spoke again. “I know you probably think this is wrong of me. I know, I am married… but there’s just something about you, Isabel.”

  His words hung there in the air, and she was unsure what to do.

  Finally her emotions overcame her, pushing rational thought to the back of her mind. Like a spectator hovering outside of her own body, she felt herself lean closer to him on the couch, and he did the same. The two hovered with their lips close—timid and eager at the same time. Finally, Robert pressed his lips to hers, as Isabel felt the kiss for which she had been longing.

  He put his hands on her face, and Isabel melted, putting her arms around his neck, taking his advice and letting go of herself, feeling his heart beating against hers. Her heart, ready for whatever was to come as Robert lifted his hands off her face and moved them down to unbutton her blouse.

  * * *

  They lay on the Persian carpet, wrapped naked in blankets by the fire. Isabel nestled herself into Robert’s chest and was taken aback by how natural it felt. She realized how strong her feelings were.

  “I don’t want this to end,” she said, searching his eyes.

  Robert kissed her forehead. “Nor do I.”

  Just then, a car sped into the driveway. Robert rose quickly, going to the window. She followed, and saw Oliver stumble out of a car, clearly drunk. Robert rolled his eyes at his son’s childish actions, and Isabel hurriedly started to gather her belongings.

  “What should I do?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry,” he replied. “Oliver won’t remember anything in the morning, regardless of what he sees. And you can leave out the east wing of the house—there’s a side door.”

  Despite his calm, Isabel quickly dressed, then scurried over to the door, kissing Robert on the lips. She slipped out into the night and peeked her head around the corner to see Oliver and his friend shouting in the driveway.

  “I wanted to go home with her,” Oliver shouted.

  “One little problem, buddy,” his companion replied. “What would you do tomorrow morning when you woke up and it wasn’t Laurel. It would be Sara—her sister, and there’d be hell to pay.”

  “That’s easy,” Oliver said, slurring the words slightly. “After I’m done with Sara, I’ll just sneak into Laurel’s room and act like nothing happened. I’m smooth like that, Tommy.” He stumbled toward the door.

  “Oh, yeah, real smooth,” Tommy said as the two entered the mansion. Isabel waited for the door to shut, and then ran to her car. She jammed the key into the ignition, started the engine, and drove into the night, her heart racing.

  Never again, she promised herself—but she knew she was lying.

  5

  A trail of clothes led to Isabel’s bedroom, and right up to her bed. She and Robert lay tangled together in the sheets. They smiled at each other, happy and content. She rolled toward him, nestling herself in his arms as she liked to do after lovemaking.

  “I love you,” Isabel said, and even after all the weeks, she was surprised at how naturally it came out.

  “I love you, too,” Robert said, kissing her on the forehead.

  “I wish we could stay here forever,” she murmured. “Forget about everything else in the world, and just be.”

  “Why don’t we?” he asked. She just laughed at him, reaching for her robe and getting out of bed. “I’m serious, Isabel,” Robert said, sitting up in the bed. “I have been doing some thinking, and I think it’s time I left Moira.”

  She turned to him.

  “Excuse me?”

  Robert got out of bed and together they moved to the kitchen. He went over to the coffeemaker and turned it on, familiar with the way it worked.

  “Yes, I think it’s about time I left Moira,” he repeated. “We’re terribly unhappy together, and I can’t stand being away from you. When I’m with my kids or Moira… I’m only thinking of you.” He handed her a cup of coffee.

  “I can’t believe this,” Isabel breathed. “This is amazing,” she added, and then she frowned. “But what about the children? What about your reputation?”

  “It won’t be easy by any means,” he acknowledged. “I’m still a father, and I want to be there for my kids, have custody of them—which I’m sure Moira will fight. Still, you and I could have a fresh start together. I’ve been dying to retire. You can take over, and then you can bring home the bacon.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” Isabel said. “You’ve taught me so much, but I’m nowhere near ready.”

  Robert went to her, grabbed both of her hands, and placed them on his chest.

  “It would happen gradually,” he said. “You’d take part in more and more of the day-to-day processes, slowly but surely, so no one becomes alarmed. Even after I step down, I’ll work with you behind the scenes. The most important thing will be trust.” He peered into her eyes. “There is no one I trust more than you.”

  “Not even Oliver?” Isabel said. “And what about Walter?” she asked. Walter Steele was Robert’s CEO and closest friend.

  “Oliver is young and foolish, and wasn’t born a leader,” Robert said ruefully. “Walter will be taken care of—I owe him that much—and you, Isabel Rochev, were born to lead. You will be my future. I promise.”

  Overwhelmed by his words, she kissed him passionately as he pulled off her robe.

  * * *

  Isabel and Becca sat in a booth in an upscale bar near Morton Square. Isabel took a sip of her wine as her friend scanned the room.

  “Oh! He’s cute!” Becca said as she motioned toward a guy at the bar. “He’s in a suit, too, which means he probably has a job.”

  Isabel glanced over at the guy, and shrugged.

  “What, you don’t think he’s cute?” Becca asked.

  “Look at his left hand,” Isabel said, smiling and taking another sip of her wine. “He’s married.”

  Becca slammed her fist on the table.

  “Seriously! All the good ones are either married or gay, I swear.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Isabel said under her breath.

  “Care to elaborate on that, missy?” Becca said.

  Isabel shrugged her shoulders and took another sip, evading the topic.

  “Well, take some advice from someone who… knows someone who knows,” Becca said. “Don’t get mixed up with married men. No matter what they say, they never leave their wives.” She summoned the waitress over for another round.

  * * *

  THUD. THUD. THUD.

  Isabel opened the door to her apartment, and was shocked to find Robert on her stoop—with suitcases.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. It was winter, and the hall was cold.

  “Isabel, we’ve been together for almost a year now,” he said, “and it’s all become clear to me. I want to start a new life together, leave this one behind, start over somewhere new where no one knows us.”

  Suddenly she realized he wasn’t there to move in, and found herself skeptical about this sudden urge to leave town.

  “What about your children,” she said, “and being a father to them? What about the company, and all of those wonderful challenges you said I… we could take on?” In response he stepped through the door and grabbed her tightly round the waist, brushed a lock of her hair out of her face.

  “One day when my children are older and in love… they’ll understand why I’m doing this,” he said. “For now, let’s just go, and leave it all behind.”

  Is this for real? Isabel thought to hersel
f. For as long as she could remember she’d wanted Robert to say these words to her, yet now that the moment appeared to have arrived, she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t even sure how she felt.

  What about the work I’ve done? she thought furiously, turning away. What about the company you promised me? What about my career? Questions flooded her mind, but she turned back and saw the love in his eyes. In that moment, she realized that was the only answer she needed.

  “Give me twenty minutes to pack my bags.”

  * * *

  At the airport, Isabel was thrilled at the sight of Robert’s private jet on the runway. She was wearing a long coat that billowed in the wind. Robert put on his sunglasses, ready for his escape to begin.

  “I’ve never been to Fiji before!” Isabel said.

  “Get used to it, my love.” He swung his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “We can go anywhere and everywhere you want to go, from here on out.” Her head spun at the possibility of becoming a jetsetter, a far cry from the lost orphan she’d always felt she was, deep in her heart. As they strolled onto the tarmac their luggage was loaded onto the plane, and as they took their seats they were handed two glasses of champagne. Isabel extended hers instantly.

  “A toast—to a day that I have been waiting for my whole life,” she said. “You have made me something that I never thought I could be—happy. I owe you so much, and I cannot wait to start this journey with you.” Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes as they embraced and clinked their champagne glasses together. Isabel took a long sip, then sat back, smiling in anticipation of their future life together.

  * * *

  Robert’s phone buzzed. He reached deep into his pocket, and when he pulled it out, he saw a text from Moira.

  Please call me—it’s Thea.

  Worried, he quickly dialed the number.

  “What’s happened?” Robert asked.

  “Thea was practicing jumps on her horse, Apollo.” Moira sounded terrible. “Somehow she lost control and was thrown. She’s broken her arm in two places, and one of them is bad. I’m at Starling General, and she’s asking for you. Where are you?”