Resisting the Bad Boy - A Standalone Bad Boy Romance

by Gabi Moore

  It was a small waiting room with pictures on the wall of the other properties his uncle owned. There were no exterior windows and soft music played from hidden speaker. A few chairs, and at least one couch, faced the desk where a small man sat with a pile of papers stacked in front of him. He wore a shirt, tie, and was busy making notes on each stapled collection of documents piled next to him on the desk.

  “Hello, Dion,” Edward said to him. “I wondered how long it would take you to arrive.”

  “You work for the mall?” Dion asked. “I had the impression you weren’t part of this time circle.”

  “I wanted to see you off,” he said while rising from the desk. “It’s not often that one gets to meet a knight on the verge of his final quest. So I made an arrangement with a temporary company who placed me here. The regular human resource manager needed a day off and I was able to fill her position while she took some vacation time.”

  Edward looked back at the table behind him. “Beastly job, I don’t know how anyone manages to do it. I’ve spent the day evaluating peoples’ performances. Someone will wonder why they all have ‘outstanding’ marked on their performance reviews, but I decided anyone who works in this temple of consummation deserve it.”

  “So where is this door to the main tower?” Dion asked.

  “You have the sigil to open it?” Edward asked him. He smoothed out his trousers. “Disgraceful clothes they sell in this place. Hardly a decent pair of pants anywhere. Don’t get me started on these clip-on bow ties.”

  Dion pulled the silver disc from the pocket of his jacket and held it up.

  “That’s the right one,” Edward said. “I see you do have a good supplier. Those are hard to find. Now let’s go to the entrance.” He turned and walked down the hall that led from the office. Dion followed him.

  The door was massive. It was made of solid wood and had twelve locks on it. The first one started at the bottom and the others continued all the way to the top. There was even a secondary lock at the doorknob. The wood was made from lignum vitae, a wood so hard it was known to break axes. As Dion looked the door over, Edward rattled on about the construction and the history behind it. Not that any of it would affect Dion’s need to get on the other side; Edward just liked to hear himself talk.

  “Built in the year 1531,” he told Dion. “It was supposed to be the door to a duke’s study in the south of France. He felt a secure door would protect him from his knights. In spite of what you may have read in the history books, medieval nobility didn’t always trust the men in arms under them. This door was never installed in the duke’s palace. Instead, it was impounded by a tax collector when the duke failed to pay the king’s share on the funds he squeezed out of his farmers. The door ended up in many places, all of whom shared one thing in common: a bad end. Note the carved face of a fiend at the top. This indicated exquisite care put into it, it also means the door was sacred to the night side of the elements. It’s a one-way trip to the abyss if you don’t know how to open it right. Now, can I see the sigil?”

  Dion, a little bored by Edward’s history lesson, pulled it out of his pocket again. “Hobbs told me to place it at the lock...”

  “Did he tell you which one?”

  “No, I didn’t realize there would be more than one.”

  Edward sighed. “Even the retailer fails to read the instructions these days. Something tells me Mr. Hobbs doesn’t know a how to operate this key. You have to put it on the right lock, or it won’t work. If you activate it on the wrong lock, not only does the door remain closed, but also the sigil burns up. And where will you get another one on short notice? There is a five-year backlog from the factory on these things. Here, just give it to me and I’ll take care of it.”

  “I think I’m supposed to be the one who activates it,” Dion said. “At least I’ve done every part of this phase by myself. It’s why I don’t have anyone with me.”

  Edward looked at him. “You might be right at that. It’s been a long time since I’ve used one of them. The last one was supposed to open a treasure chest. It opened it all right, but all that remained inside was an IOU note from the last thief who got inside. Go ahead and place it on the lock right next to the latch. The other ones are dummies designed to fool an uneducated burglar.”

  “Do I have to chant anything? Hobbs didn’t give me any words to say.”

  “No,” Edward said as he adjusted his bowtie. “Just put it in place. The sigil key is self-acting and will penetrate the door on its own.”

  Dion walked to the strange door and placed the silver disc next to the latch, just as if Edward told him. He felt it attach itself to the door. Dion could feel the disc pull when he drew back to make sure it would stay in place. He removed his hand and the disc stayed put, even though there was nothing sticky on it or the door.

  Then Dion noticed something else.

  “There is more than one latch on this door. Did I put it on the right one?”

  Edward stepped closer to look at the door. “You’re right. There is more than one latch. The designer of this door thought of everything.”

  “But is it the right latch?”

  “I don’t know. Guess we will both know in a few minutes.”

  “I was told to stand back.”

  Both of them took a few steps away from the door.

  There was a buzzing sound from the sigil disc and it began to spin in place. The disc spun faster until it turned into a blur. Then it stopped, rotated back a few turns, rotated forward a few more, and made a few more backwards rotations. This continued for a few more minutes.

  “What is it doing?” Dion asked Edward.

  “I believe it’s trying to find the correct combination,” the small Englishman replied. “Similar to the dial on a safe.”

  The disc ceased its movement and remained still. Dion waited a few more minutes and turned to Edward.

  “Is it done?” he asked.

  The response came with the sound of a multitude of locks unsnapping. The door slowly began to open with the loud creak of something not used in a long time. When the door was perpendicular to the doorway, it ceased moving. There was very little light inside the room beyond the door.

  “It worked,” Edward, proclaimed. “I don’t think those additional locks were dummy ones after all. Did you hear the sounds they made?”

  “I’m sure the entire office did.”

  “Or would, but I gave them the day off. Now off with you! The door will close in sixty seconds.”

  Dion shook Edward’s hand as he walked into the passage to the clock tower. Edward watched him go inside and vanish with the light into the next room. Just as he’d predicted, the door swung shut and closed less than a minute later. The sound of locks triggering were heard.

  Then silence.

  Edward bent over to look at the door. The sigil disc was gone. There was no trace of one ever being attached to the door.

  “Single use,” Edward noted. “Just as I thought. Now how will he ever get out of there? I’m sure he’ll find a way. He’s resourceful. Oh, well, back to those disgusting performance reviews.”

  He turned and went back to the office.

  Chapter 2

  Dion rubbed his eyes as the light returned. This was similar to the last time he’d been sent outside the circle of time where the mall existed. The light would fade, and then return with fury as he found himself in a new environment.

  The door must work the same way. He turned to look at the door from the other side and found a blank wall behind him. How was he supposed to return from where he’d come? The door had to work in one direction only. There must be other ways out of the clock tower, but escape was not on the front of his mind.

  Now that there was light around him, Dion could see where he was. It was another office, not surprising, as he’d left one before this place. It was made from modern furniture and the fabric on the walls appeared to be fresh. The paint on the office furniture was unblemished. This office appeared to
be brand new.

  This time there were two men behind the desk.

  They sat on opposite sides of the small partner’s desk. Both wore leisure suits, although one had blue polyester and the other green. Both had printed silk shirts, which were open with the lapels over the suit. Neither wore ties. Dion looked at them again and tried to figure out what else seemed strange about the two of them.

  They were twins.

  Not identical twins but close enough in physical height and weight to be indistinguishable from the other. Both looked to be in their twenties and both were about five foot seven. One had dark hair, the other was blond. The blond twin had dark eyes and the black haired one had blue eyes. They were both typing on electric typewriters when Dion entered the room and stopped when they turned around to face him. Dion heard the zing of a carriage return and the hum from the typewriter as one of them finished what he’d typed.

  “Can we help you?” the blond twin asked him. “It has been a long time since someone used that door.”

  “At least twenty years,” the black haired twin responded. “I think we should celebrate this event.”

  “The tower wasn’t built that long ago,” Dion said. “And this office appears to be brand new. Both of you would have been toddlers if you were around back then.”

  “Who said anything about being around here twenty years ago?” the blond twin snipped.

  “And this tower has been around a lot longer than what you might think,” the brunette added. “You focus on the exteriors and ignore the truth of what it hides. Just like the man who sees a rope in the dusk and assumes it to be a snake.”

  “Or one who sees a snake and assumes a rope,” the other pointed out. “The tower exists in many places at the same time.”

  “I’m Dion,” he introduced himself.

  “Pleased to meet you, Dion,” the blond said to him. “I’m Anders.”

  “And I’m Blaze,” the other said. “We are the Chance brothers. You may have noted we are twins.”

  “But not identical,” Dion said.

  “What are you talking about?” Anders snapped at him. “Can’t you see we are the same in every way shape and form?”

  “No difference?” Blaze responded. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. Most people can’t tell us apart.”

  Dion refrained from mentioning the hair and eye color distinctions. When he was living in California, there were two brothers who were identical twins. The only difference was the birthmark one had on the back of his neck. It was common to see the other kids walk up behind one or the other and look at the neck to see whom they’d be conversing with today. These two, were easy to tell apart.

  “So what kind of work do you do here?” Dion asked, as he hoped to change the subject.

  “This is the Department of Disunity,” Blaze told him. “We are very important in the administration of the tower.”

  “It couldn’t function without us,” Anders added. “This place would sink into the abyss if we weren’t here.”

  “Not that it would be a bad thing,” he brother said. “Sometimes we are bored beyond belief in this place. We just finished typing up a report to send upstairs.”

  “Spent two years on that one.”

  “No, I think it was five. Doesn’t matter, it’s done and now they have our findings.”

  “I assume it wasn’t anything to do with the mall,” Dion said. “It hasn’t been around that long.”

  “Mall?” Anders’ eyes went wide. “What mall?”

  “The Fromatius Mall. I entered this office from it. You know the one around the tower.”

  “They built a mall, did they?” Blaze asked. “So that explains all the feasibility work the upper floor had us doing before this report. I thought they might be working on something like it.”

  Dion looked at them oddly. Nothing in this office made sense, but he’d entered the clock tower by way of a door that vanished once he used it. They were contradicting themselves and didn’t seem to care on way or another.

  “How often do you guys get out?

  “We never leave,” the twins said simultaneously.

  “There is a mall around the clock tower. Do you ever go upstairs? You can see windows at the top of the tower from the ground level of the mall.

  “We’ve never had a reason to do that,” Anders explained. “The upper floor sends us paper work and we take care of it.”

  “Every so often someone like you appears,” Blaze said. “But not too often.”

  “What happens when they do? Do you send them upstairs?”

  “Oh, my goodness, no,” Anders told him. “They would never forgive us if we did that. We’d never hear the end of it. More paperwork. Tons of it.”

  Dion continued to stare at the two of them. He looked around the office and didn’t see a door to any place. If there was a way out of this office, it wasn’t evident to him. Perhaps they were right about never leaving it. The perfect office workers. Trapped in their little spaces for all eternity. If the tower existed in multiple time circles, as they claimed, there was no one place each level or door might lead. The same door, which took you into one room, might dump you into a jungle when you left. He no longer had the sigil disc as it was used up when he opened the door into this room. If he were to get out of here, he would need the help of these two. Provided they could give him any help at all.

  “So what happens to the people who come through the door?” Dion asked them. “I mean the one behind me that isn’t there any longer.”

  “It’s still there,” Blaze said. “You just have to look for it.”

  “Can’t be seen by the uninitiated,” Anders pointed out. “But, in his case, I don’t think he even knows about the temple.”

  “He might. Is he a unitarian or a dualist? What do you think?”

  “I’d suggest a syndicalist.”

  “Did I say a word about politics?”

  “Who said a syndicalist couldn’t also be a dualist? Have you been reading those old books again?”

  “I’m talking about the third commentary of the fourth citation of Ames and Breslow. Didn’t we bring that one up last week?”

  “No, we were discussing the lack of intersectionality on the progress of critical mathematical studies. You were the one who brought it up when we had our quota accomplished for the day. I pulled out that journal and showed it to you. It caused more confusion than the survey about Planck’s constant.”

  The two of them ignored Dion and continued to babble on for another fifteen minutes. He was unsure about the way time ran in this part of the tower, but he assumed it worked the same way outside the tower. Dion looked at his wristwatch. It showed twenty minutes had elapsed between the time he stepped into the doorway and now. At least the passage of time was constant. It also told him he had only twelve hours to reach his parents and the Aether Grandmaster.

  “Pardon me,” Dion cut into their diffuse discussion. “I don’t mean to interrupt your progress, but I need to get to my parents. They are somewhere in this tower. I need to find the Aether Grandmaster too. She’s held inside here as well. Do either of you know where they might be?”

  The starred at him for a few seconds. Finally, Anders took a phone receiver off its cradle. From his side of the table, Dion could see Blaze dial a telephone number. Anders waited until the phone on the other end was answered before he said a word. But he didn’t take his eyes off Dion. Neither one of them did.

  “Hello, security?” he said into the receiver. “We have a live one here. Yes, the young man you told us to watch out for yesterday. He’s here and you need to get over to our office and deal with him. No, we’re not going anywhere. Yes, we’ll be here until you arrive.” He hung up the phone.

  Dion looked at them.

  What kind of game was played in this tower? He entered with a door that disappeared behind him to an office run by twins who didn’t look alike and were angry when you pointed it out. They couldn’t make up their minds about anything an
d now they’d called security on him. Dion was in no mood to deal with more goons after the past few days in the mall and his confrontation with Karanzen’s security guards.

  He decided to try a new approach.

  “Do you have any idea who I am?” He asked them with a stern look on his face.

  Blaze turned to his brother. “Smart kid, isn’t he?”

  “Assumes a lot, I have to admit,” his brother responded. He turned to Dion. “Of course we know who you are. You’re the communist they warned us about last week. And now you can deal with our peoples.”

  “No, he’s a fascist,” Blaze corrected. “Didn’t you read the memo?”

  “That was last month.”

  “No, last month was the monarchist. You almost let him through.”

  “Because he told us he was trying to stop the revolution.”

  “Why would a monarchist be in favor of a revolution?”

  “I said he was trying to stop one! Don’t you ever listen to anything I say?”

  “I’m Seth Bach’s nephew. If you don’t show me how to get to the next level, both of you are going to be in deep trouble.”

  “Deep what?” Anders said to him.

  “Who’s nephew?” The other said.

  They stared at him for a good thirty seconds, finally one of them spoke.

  “Why didn’t you tell us that in the first place?” Anders asked. He reached over and slid his hand under the table. There was a click and a cabinet full of books next to him swung open to reveal a hidden staircase.

  “Sorry,” apologized Blaze, “we thought you were the man with the FBI. Please convey our apologies to your uncle.”

  “I thought he was with the CIA.”

  Chapter 3

  Dion turned and walked to the staircase. It led upwards, but he couldn’t tell where it went. At this moment, he didn’t care because it would get him away from these two.

  He walked up the stairs and heard the sound of the twins arguing as the cabinet closed and clicked into place behind him.

  The staircase was long and steep. How it was approved by the building code was a mystery to Dion until it occurred to him that the tower was in many different time circles, which meant the inspectors were shown something other than the tower. He climbed the stairs. Dion noted the light was very faint in the staircase, probably for a definite reason. He turned his head upward and saw that the light emitted from gas flames. They flared out from small jets in the ceiling. Gas lighting was almost unheard of which meant the building was never inspected or he was in a time circle where it was common. He bet on the latter.