by Amanda Uhl
Fortunately, Kyle Willard did not rush her, which gave her time to gather her wandering thoughts. Grace wanted the job, and Willard had the money to pay her. Her ten thousand dollar gift from God wouldn’t last forever. She’d do her best to satisfy Kyle’s curiosity and win the business.
“Well, let’s see. I was born in Parma—that’s a suburb of Cleveland.”
“I’m familiar.” He nodded encouragingly.
“Umm…You remember I have a sister, Claire, who lives in San Francisco—a struggling actress. Our father died young and our mother raised us. I think I told you I have a step-father Glenn.”
“Yes, what do you know about his people?”
“Not much honestly. Glenn has a brother in Boston.”
“No, your real father.”
“Oh, well, I never really knew him. He died when I was two. He was an only child. Adopted.”
“Did you father ever exhibit any unusual talents?”
“Well, I hardly know. I mean, I don’t really remember him.”
“Think about it for a moment.”
“Well…my mother did say my father had an uncanny ability to know where she was all the time. She said he was a master at detection, which made him good at his job. He was a police officer.”
“Yes, that makes sense. When did you know you were an artist?”
He was back to sitting there with his legs outstretched and his fingers steepled under his chin. His brilliant blue eyes stabbed into her, and she had trouble looking away for long, although she tried. Apparently, the news media were not mistaken about his genius. He had extraordinary listening abilities.
“When I was in fourth or fifth grade. The teacher asked us to draw an advertisement. She showed my entry to the entire class. That’s when I first got recognition for my artwork.” She paused to collect her thoughts and admitted, “I didn’t believe I could do it until much later.”
She watched him to gauge his interest. He nodded. “Continue.”
“My high school art teacher took an interest in me. She said I had a unique style and submitted a project I created to a local contest. I won.”
“Ah.” There was a long pause, until she realized he was waiting for her to continue.
“I only won a $50 savings bond. But still it was enough for me to finally get the idea I had a skill I should explore. I decided to major in graphic design in college.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“Cleveland State.” Her family had not had much money for college. Grace had lived at home and worked in an office supply store to pay for tuition.
“And were you popular in school?”
What did this have to do with her ability to design? “Not really. I was shy. My sister was another story. She was extremely outgoing and popular.”
Once again, Grace glanced his way as she explained and found herself pulled in by his stare. “Have you always been jealous of her?”
A sharp pain hit her temples, and she found herself rubbing them while she answered. “Not always. When we were little, we were the best of friends. I love her. But it’s hard to be her sister. You’d have to meet her to understand.”
“Oh, I do understand. It’s hard to be outshone by a younger sibling. But you are close, I see. How would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
Was this more than business? Had he decided to go down that path again? She was out of her element, not sure how to answer. Before she could respond, he added, “To discuss the project, of course. You said you wanted to know more details.”
That she did. She wasn’t sure why he couldn’t tell her now, but apparently he needed to get to know her before he could trust her with it. She attributed it to the eccentricities of the wealthy. “Okay. Where shall I meet you?”
He smiled. “I’ll pick you up at six. Be ready.”
He got up and gestured for Grace to proceed in front of him, so she did. It seemed her interview was over. Grace must have fit whatever criteria he was after since he had invited her to dinner.
Surprisingly, Kyle didn’t turn her over to Brice’s administrative assistant. Instead, he walked with her past the assistant’s desk and to the elevator. He pressed the lobby button. He turned to face her and held out his hand. Grace reached out to shake it, and he grasped her fingers tightly. She noted his palms were almost hot to the touch. Her stomach churned and for a moment, Grace seriously thought she was going to lose her breakfast all over his glossy, black shoes.
“Be ready at six o’clock sharp. I’m looking forward to our dinner tonight. You can tell me all your secrets.”
Grace was drowning in his eyes. Kyle Willard looked almost fierce, like he was willing her to agree. Grace found herself nodding and saying a bit breathlessly, “Me, too.”
Kyle was the type of man it was hard to say no to. Charming and intense, he over-powered her. It was not surprising he was such a success in life. His attention was flattering, but it did not erase the niggling doubt in the pit of her stomach. Men like Willard did not usually give Grace the time of day. They were too driven and successful—more comfortable with a sleek and polished career woman than a struggling artist like herself.
The elevator opened, and Grace stepped inside, while Kyle’s gaze continued to drill holes in her back. She turned to face him. He smiled, once again revealing his dimple. “Until tonight.”
The elevators doors closed on Grace’s reply. She held her hands out in front of her. They were shaking. The stress of the interview had gotten to her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Portal Be Gone
David was exhausted. He had been pushing himself and his crew to find the hacker, which meant double expeditions over the past three days. Now he was paying the price. He was staying at Geneva’s so they could work more rapidly. At the moment, she was bent over him anxiously, trying to deflect the tide of deadheads. The work they were doing was dangerous at all times, but when they were tired, it was more likely he or his men would slip. One mistake could spell death for them all. The stress was wearing on everyone, including Geneva. She had the difficult job of creating a strong enough energy field that would give them safe passage into and out of the mind. David could hear her mumbling obscenities under her breath.
“Damn men and their fucking stubbornness. It serves you right if you end up dead. Are you willing to trade our lives for hers? What’s wrong with you?”
David had no energy available to argue, and Geneva took full advantage.
“Don’t you know you need eight hours of sleep and three square meals a day? You can’t be checking on her David. I know you care about her, but you must conserve your energy or you’ll wind up dead.”
She paused a moment to take a breath and started in again. “Peter says Grace is no longer in danger. The hacker now knows he can’t gain anything from her mind. You need to stay away from her.”
That was a struggle. If he couldn’t have Grace, he was damned if he would let anyone else have her either. He was pretty sure Geneva would be even more alarmed if she knew the lengths he had gone to already. Good thing he had kept it a secret from her powerful antenna.
David was in no condition now, however, to spy on Grace. He would be lucky if he could check on her forty-eight hours from now. He desperately needed recovery time so they could continue their search for the rogue hacker. They were on the right track—David knew it. Yesterday, they found traces of the hacker’s energy in the mind of the president of the Patchwork Company, a multi-million dollar medical equipment distributor. They needed to sift through the Patchwork’s customers to find their man. David only hoped his mind defenses continued to hold, because if they failed, it wouldn’t matter if they found a whole host of hackers. There would be nothing he could damn well do about it. And he feared no one, not even Grace, would be safe.
*****
The subject of David’s thoughts was still reeling from her morning and the odd interview that had taken place. Grace had arrived back at her condo confus
ed and shaken. She was seriously considering canceling her dinner meeting that evening. She grabbed her cell phone several times to make the call and set it down again. Her bills were covered, so she was no longer desperate for work. But in the art world, reputation was everything. And the fact Grace would back out after already agreeing to the job would eliminate the chance of future work from Gallant. It was in her best interests to satisfy their number one client. It was every artist’s dream—a client that kept them so busy they didn’t have to pound the pavement looking for work. She should be happy Kyle Willard had taken such an interest.
Still, something about the way he’d looked at her, as if he wanted to eat her for dinner, made her nervous. Once again, she pondered the oddness of their meeting. What an unusual coincidence her online friend turned out be Kyle Willard of all people. He had said he wanted to know everything about her. Why? Did he normally interview everyone that worked for him personally and take them out to dinner and grill them? It didn’t seem likely.
Grace changed her clothes, contemplating Willard’s interest. What should she wear? Something conservative and subtle. She did not want to attract any more attention than she already had. Maybe he’d find her boring and leave her alone to work on the design after tonight. It was a reflection of her anxiety that she wished this scenario would come true.
Grace made herself lunch and settled at her laptop to check email and research her famous client. No sooner did she type Kyle Willard in the search engine and press enter, she was staring at dozens of pictures of him and a wide array of websites from Wikipedia to biography.
“Kyle Willard is an American business magnate, engineer, philanthropist, investor, and inventor.” Grace read aloud and then scrolled to his early life. Willard was born in Detroit, Michigan in 1975 to an unwed, unemployed, and disabled mother, Anna Smalley. Throughout his childhood, he and his mother lived in a variety of group homes, until Anna died in a car accident, leaving young Willard an orphan at the age of eight.
Wow. She’d had no idea he had such a tragic history. She continued reading.
It was this experience, he later said, and reruns of the Six Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman, that first got him interested in bionics. He was adopted by the Willard family, who also had three biological children. He excelled in school, scoring close to a perfect 1600 on his SAT and earning a full scholarship to MIT. As a student there he was credited with creating the world’s first bionic skin. He holds a patent for this invention.
After graduating, he started Technoderm with a $50,000 loan from his adoptive parents. The firm manufactures and sells the skin for cancer patients and burn victims. The skin is known for its real look and feel to the patients who receive it, as well as smart features, which allow it to adjust its look and feel to the texture and edge of the real skin it is connected to. The artificial skin will never develop cancer or be subject to sunburn, and it will age along with a patient’s biological skin.
Grace had read about this skin before. It saved the lives and brought relief to millions of burn victims every year. She arrived at the end of the page. Willard was cofounder of the Bionic Body magazine. He has been featured numerous times on the cover of Time, Discover, and Popular Science and holds more than fifteen patents.
The last line on the page caught her attention: Willard lives in New York City with his long-time girlfriend Kaitlyn Girard. Interesting he had tried to date Grace with a girlfriend. Trouble in paradise, maybe. She supposed it didn’t matter with his credentials. Plenty of women would want to date a billionaire who was responsible for such an amazing, life-saving invention. She did a quick search for more dirt on the girl but with little success. Whoever she was, she apparently didn’t enjoy the limelight because Grace could not find a single photograph.
“Pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl.” Harvey screeched from his cage, reminding Grace it was getting late. Kyle Willard had said he would pick her up at 6:00 p.m., and she could not imagine him being late or her keeping him waiting around while she made last minute preparations. She’d get dressed now so she would have plenty of time to calm her nerves before Willard arrived on the scene.
Three hours later, her doorbell rang and she hurried to answer it. She should have known he would send a driver. Grace stared at the man at her doorstep dressed in a suit and tie.
“Are you Grace Woznisky?”
She nodded and said smartly, “Last time I checked.”
The chauffeur, Charles, she discovered, smiled and gestured for her to proceed him. “Your ride’s out front, ma’am.”
Grace had never ridden in a limo and couldn’t resist poking into all the compartments and crevices. Charles made friendly conversation with her all the while. “Do you work directly for Mr. Willard?”
“Yes, ma’am. Been driving for him for near ten years now.”
“Wow, that’s a long time. Do you enjoy the job?”
“Sure do. It’s a great job. Course this is only one of my jobs. I also assist with the odd errand here and there.”
“And how do you like working for Mr. Willard?”
“I do enjoy it. Especially when I get to drive nice ladies like you around.”
“Oh, does that happen often?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Willard is popular with the ladies.”
“He’s my employer, too.” Grace did not want to be compartmentalized as one of ‘Willard’s ladies’ in the chauffeur’s mind.
“Oh, yeah? What has Mr. Willard hired you to do for him?”
“I’m an artist. He’s asked for my help with a pet project.”
Charles nodded but did not say anything, prompting Grace to ask, “Aren’t you going to ask me what kind of project?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. That’s not my business. I’m only a driver.”
“Well, as far as I know, it’s no secret. He’s opening a museum and wants me to design the artwork for it. That’s all he’s told me. Do you admire Mr. Willard?”
“Well, I can’t rightly say. Me and Mr. Willard aren’t exactly bosom buddies. He’s just my employer. But I do admire his success. He has come far mighty fast. He’s a wealthy man.”
“Have you met his girlfriend?”
“Huh? Oh, Kaitlyn. She’s not his girlfriend, although the press continues to call her that. Goes to show, you can’t believe everything you read in the paper.” He chuckled heartily and the sound made her want to laugh along with him. “Kaitlyn’s his sister.”
“Oh. I did read that Mr. Willard was adopted into a family with three children. Kaitlyn must be one of them.”
“Oh, no. I don’t believe that’s so ma’am. Kaitlyn is Mr. Willard’s biological sister.”
“But Wikipedia didn’t mention anything about a biological sister.”
“Yeah, well, again, you can’t believe everything you read online.”
“Apparently not.” She wanted to ask him more about Kaitlyn, but they had arrived at the Ritz, where Mr. Willard was staying while in town. Charles parked the car and got out to open her door. “Will you be the one taking me home?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. Mr. Willard has told me I won’t be needed. I suppose he’ll be taking you home himself. It’s nice meeting you, ma’am.” He tipped his hat.
“Thank you Charles.” She turned and walked inside, stopping at the front desk to ask for Mr. Willard and was immediately directed to the 21st floor—he had rented the penthouse suite.
Two hours later, Grace realized she was trapped in a hotel room with a mad man. Or at least a seriously disturbed one. It didn’t matter he was a billionaire…with an invention…that saved millions of lives every year. Grace wanted out. The trouble was, she couldn’t seem to leave. Her mind had a will of its own and right now, that mind had decided she was staying, even though her body had been getting creepy signals for the last hour.
Their evening together had started out innocuously enough. They spent the first part having dinner and talking about his pet project. He lured her in slowly, plying her wit
h wine and high-priced appetizers. At one point he showed her a horrible burn on his chest and back that had started him on the journey to create bionic skin years before.
Half way through the meal, his sister arrived, and they were introduced. She seemed nice enough, if a bit reserved. She didn’t talk much but hung around quietly in the background. That’s when things started getting funky. It was like her brain had a mind of its own, revealing personal information she would not normally choose to reveal. Grace found herself conflicted. One part of her mind was encouraging her to let down her guard and get up close and personal with her host. The other part was screaming at her to run and run fast. Unfortunately, that part continually lost. The longer she stayed, the longer she wanted to stay forever. She wanted Kyle Willard. I mean who wouldn’t? He’s rich, good-looking, intelligent. What would it be like to sleep with this man? Bile rose, sharp and burning, her mind rebelling. Grace did not sleep around. What was wrong with her? I’m not attracted to Kyle Willard…am I? He’s too intense and…and scary. She willed herself to leave, but her legs wouldn’t carry her to the door. It was as if she was trapped inside the scary nightmares she had been having—one that went on and on so she could not wake.
“Grace, you aren’t listening. You are a naughty one, aren’t you? I need you to pay attention. Look at me Grace. Look into my eyes.”
Unwillingly, Grace found herself looking. His angel blue eyes seemed to pull her in, like a deep, chlorinated pool.
“That’s a good girl. You have something in your mind Grace that does not belong there. Do you feel it?”