Layers

by Sigal Ehrlich

  “Thanks for the gratitude, Miss Smartass.” Throwing a pillow at me, she murmurs “costume” under her breath. “Will you put your hair up?”

  I look at her and touch my lips, scratching them with my thumb while considering her question.

  “Nah, let’s leave a bit of me in this story.”

  She nods in agreement. “Take my car. Ian’s picking me up.”

  ~~~

  As I park in the almighty Software Technologies, Inc. building complex, I glance at the side mirror, observing my freckled, suntanned face decorated by my wavy, straw-blonde locks and smile. This is as good as it gets.

  At the lobby, I announce to the young receptionist that I’m scheduled to meet with Mr. Stark at eleven. “It’s Miss Grace,” I add.

  “Take the first lift to the right up to the second floor. Mr. Stark’s personal assistant is waiting for you.” She smiles phonily, her eyes expressionless. Again inside the building, I can’t help but admire the graceful tremendousness of the place, so well furnished and styled. When I reach the second floor, a young, tall, weary-looking brunette comes quickly my way. Extending her hand for a shake, she says, “I’m Miss Bally, Mr. Stark’s personal assistant. Would you like something to drink?” she asks a tad too enthusiastically, fidgeting as she does so. Too much caffeine, Miss Bally?

  “Just water would be great, thank you.” Idly I think to myself, her expression suddenly changed. She became somewhat stressed.

  “Maybe also some coffee. Espresso, was it?” I turn to look at the owner of the voice and there he is with all his bad-boy glory: Daniel.

  “Hi again, Daniel.” I reward him with a smile, feeling slightly uneasy the moment our eyes meet. When has this ever happened to me before? Again, this strange reaction to him.

  “Hello, Miss Grace,” he answers, his lips curved up crookedly; his voice is woven with a hint of joy, hazel eyes twinkling. You seem happy to see me …

  Miss Bally looks at us with round eyes, her lips parted. Perhaps she has a thing for her colleague here. Well, how could she not? How could anybody not, the man oozes sex.

  “I’ll escort Miss Grace to the room,” Daniel snaps at Miss Bally. What’s his problem? Lovers’ quarrel?

  “Well, mmm,” she murmurs, still perplexed. I can totally relate to her reaction toward him. Once we start walking toward Mr. Stark’s office, she composes herself and nods.

  Daniel saunters beside me. I can sense his intent stare on me but refrain from looking back at him. I’d rather not challenge my ability to appear nonchalant. We approach what I believe to be Mr. Stark’s office and he gestures for me to go in first.

  “Here we are,” he declares, searching my eyes. He softly beams and I counter with a full-hearted grin. Observing the inside, I’m dazed by the luxurious space; it’s a vast and modernly-decorated room. The neutral white shade covering the walls doesn’t steal too much focus from the rest of the room but enhances the sophisticated style of the clean-cut furniture, especially the enormous chrome and glass desk that takes center stage. The table consists of a silver Mac and a thin black leather mouse pad, but is otherwise bare.

  There is a gray, wide leather chair next to the desk, both standing steady above shiny mahogany parquet. Facing the foyer are dark glass walls, the type that can’t be seen through from the outside. Figures. When it comes to Mr. Stark, separation seems to be a theme.

  As I get farther inside, Daniel is still accompanying me, that constant wicked glee to his eyes. Yes, he defiantly looks as good as I remembered. And boy, did I remember …

  “How have you been, Miss Grace?” he asks, casually glancing at me from a guarded distance.

  “Fine, and you?” I tentatively run my eyes over him.

  “Couldn’t be better,” he says, a touch of humor lacing his words.

  “I guess I’ll wait in here. Thank you for showing me the way.” I nod at him with a flirty smile and he mirrors with the same somewhat suggestive gesture. I sit down and quickly examine the table in front of me. I notice my scribbled-on CV on the desk next to Mr. Almighty’s empty chair. Daniel, watching me in an unfathomable manner, circles the table rather than leaving the room and just before I can process what’s going on, he stretches his hand from behind the table.

  “Daniel Stark,” he says solemnly, his eyes radiating humor though there is only a trace of a smile on his lips.

  Oh boy, not good. Not only do I blush this time, my heartbeat starts to accelerate. I’m afraid that the thudding might be audible to the person opposite me.

  Great, just great. What have I gotten myself into now? Let’s see how I’ll get myself out of this one.

  What do I do? Should I say something? What can I possibly say? Hey Mr. Stark, it was nice trashing you. Did you enjoy it as much as I did? I look at him, wishing the earth would part in two and swallow me. “Well, Miss Grace,” he says with a straight face, eyes boring into mine.

  I could not possibly feel more uncomfortable than I already do.

  When Miss Bally knocks and comes in with my coffee and water and a bottle of sparkling water for Daniel Mr. Damn Stark I am so grateful for the interruption that I consider begging her to stay. Unfortunately, as quickly as she comes in, she immediately turns on her heels back to her elegant work station, leaving me with Mr. Stark, who casually murmurs, with a patronizing stare, “Careful not to stain yourself with the coffee.”

  I shift nervously in my chair, painfully failing to remain calm or form some appropriate comeback. Jerk.

  Businesslike, resting casually back in his chair, he concentrates on pretending to read my CV while I try to figure out what I’m really doing here, besides being the object of his amusement.

  He inclines his head to level his stare with mine and asks, “You would like to work in our security department, Miss Grace?” He bites his full lips in what I guess is an attempt to hold his thin smile from widening, and it really riles me, causing me to flush again in response. By slanting his head, waiting for my response, a strand of his wavy golden hair drops on his forehead, making him look somewhat unruly, adding to my unease. How can I even concentrate? Somebody shoot me already. Please put me out of my misery.

  I look at him restlessly, repeatedly circling my watchband around my wrist. He turns his gaze to my repetitive act of anxiety and I halt at once. His lips pull up a notch.

  “Well,” I start with a weak voice, trying to articulate some answer, though miserably failing. How long will this torture last?

  “I thought it would be an interesting field to work in.” Oh my god, that’s the best I could come up with? Can I sound more retarded? This is hot enterprise owner Mr. Stark I’m talking to. He must think I’m actually mentally challenged. Perhaps he’ll think I do have a disability and pity me.

  Daniel Stark looks at me, hardly trying anymore to hide his covert mocking yet annoyed smile; I feel like bending across the table to strangle that wide, tan neck of his. Or perhaps devour his lips? A rush of pleasure goes through me as I visualize this thought. I shake my head quickly to avoid giving any further stage to this idea.

  “So of all the departments at Stark Software, the security organization is the most intriguing and professional unit in your opinion? Is that your line of thought, Miss Grace?” He stares at me with a gaze that burns with a mixture of viciousness and delight. I feel absolutely numb. Did I really say this rubbish to Mrs. Greenich? This is all Tasha’s fault, though I can’t accuse her for making me utter this absurdity. I have myself to thank for that.

  “Miss Grace, I do have a position in mind that would be suitable for you here at our organization,” he continues, reassembling his expression into a stern face. Nonetheless, there is still a flicker of playfulness in those hazel irises.

  What the hell? I glare at him, utterly perplexed. Is he really about to offer me a job? Based on what?

  “Since you were so observant of the conduct and character of Stark Software’s upper management when we last met, I believe you could fill a role in our Human R
esources department, as liaison between management and our employees.”

  As soon as he concludes, I swallow hard and ease my breathing, reminded of what I told him, well … about himself. Anger is swelling in my gut. He’s crucifying me here, and it’s so well deserved. Now, what do I reply to that? What do I fucking say?

  Finally, I’m able to shake off my prolonged state of silently absorbing the heat, and the barrier in my numb, dry mouth is lifted. I need to try to control myself. Well, what the hell …

  “Mr. Stark,” I say in a firm voice, which results in an intent gaze that assures me I’ve got his undivided attention. “First of all, I should really thank you for the opportunity of considering me, as inexperienced as I am, for such a valuable position in your organization.” Cynicism clearly plays through my tone. “Though, I must admit, it does come as a surprise, as I didn’t mention any interest in the Stark Software Human Resources department.” I inhale quickly, collecting courage, and continue. “Sir, I still do honestly believe that having such an apparent separation between management and the employees is disturbing. I can only assume these restrictions are in place to prohibit access to management territory? This is, how shall I say, quite condescending and estranged. Is this the message Stark Software is looking to convey to its workers?” I stare at his indifferent face. His eyes, however, appear to have turned a darker shade, engrossed with, is that annoyance? Fury?

  “An apparent separation,” he murmurs, echoing my words as if inwardly gauging them.

  I inhale sharply and say “I, myself, would much rather work in an environment where people are reachable.” I frown at him. I frown at Mr. Daniel Stark. Goodness, I’m outdoing myself here.

  His piercing hazel eyes bore into my slightly shaken brown ones, deeper now, making the butterflies in my stomach start a violent riot. He keeps his stare steady for what seems like the longest ten seconds of my life, still assessing my insights.

  “So, Miss Grace, I understand that you’re rejecting my offer for the HR position. Can I assume that?” He looks at me, eyes stern, but that faint, annoying, smug curve occupies those damn disturbing lips again. I watch him, still completely baffled, waves of disquiet running through me. Was he serious about the position? He couldn’t have been. He hardly blinks, and his profound, prolonged stare makes me squirm in my chair. “So, if you are not interested in the position, can I at least invite you to coffee?”

  Come again?

  My jaw drops to the floor or perhaps to the level below. I gape at him, irritated and bemused. What the hell is he talking about now? What a change of direction, and how arrogant! I scan his face, trying to figure out his intentions. As I do I notice that he has a tiny scar on his left eyebrow and another deep one decorating his upper lip. The details of his face tantalize my thoughts, provoking again the herd of lust-fused butterflies at the base of my stomach. Focus!

  “Well, what will it be, Miss Grace? Will you reject my offer for coffee too?” Daniel asks, making my heart race at a rate that I’m afraid is starting to afflict my health. Even my shoulders feel as if they’re radiating heat. I struggle for words but give up due to momentary brain lapse. Did he just come on to me? Did Mr. Daniel, smug, annoying, Stark just come on to … me?

  “Miss Grace, you seemed so much more talkative the last time we had the pleasure of meeting. Have you lost your words now? Do you need a moment?” His wicked, satisfied, smile teases, annoying the living hell out of my state of confusion, the same one he just so gracefully flung me into. I do hear you, listening is easy. The talking part is not.

  I glare at him absolutely astounded, his eyes still glittering with that “I have you at my feet no one says no to me” conceited air. I seriously feel like slapping him … after ripping his clothes off.

  “Mr. Stark, pardon me, but you must be one of the single most arrogant people I have ever met,” I say, seething.

  I take a deep breath, and as I exhale, words gust out of my mouth. “Do you honestly believe that after you’ve made me come all the way here, and humiliated me for the last few precious minutes, I would want anything to do with you? Let alone spend more of my valuable time on you?” Not waiting for any reply I add, “Valuable time which you’ve already so disrespectfully consumed.” His dismay at my verbal attack is palpable.

  “Why, Mr. Stark, you were so talkative a few minutes ago. Have you lost your words? Do you need a moment?” Wow, did that just come out of my mouth? I’m terribly shaken, but boy am I ecstatic. Well done.

  He recuperates in seconds and his baffled expression transforms. He’s collected, but he has that wicked glow back, dominating his eyes.

  Next, to my complete surprise, he stands up and slowly but confidently starts sauntering toward me. Before I can grasp his intentions, I find him leaning his hip on the desk next to me, his knee almost brushing mine. Too close. My heart threatens to leap out of my chest as I gape up at his intent stare, staggered. His eyes hover over my face till they land on my lips, which traitorously part. The air is literally yanked out of my lungs at the lengthy pause of his stare on my mouth. My realization again who he really is, his proximity now, and these sexually charged currents running frenetically inside of me subside any minor composure I might have had before.

  “Why, Miss Grace.” He mirrors my own words; his smirk above me broadens. “You’ve just made me lust for this coffee even more.”

  Interesting choice of words there, Mr. Stark. “If that’s all, Daniel, hmmm, Mr. Stark, I’ll be leaving now. Thank you for the lovely experience. I bet this was very valuable to Stark Software. Work time very well spent.” Deliberately disregarding his last comment, I stand up to leave.

  At this point, I’m not sure I have an ounce of courage left in me to face him or continue this impudent dialog. He quickly inches himself upright, to stand, and offers his hand for a shake. Still at a loss, with an uncertain hand, I reciprocate. Taking my hand, he brings it closer to his mouth and presses a gentle, lengthened kiss on my now shaky palm. I twitch, thrown aback. Was that arousing or what? Mr. irritating Stark’s sensual lips on my flesh move my universe out of base for a moment that feels like a decade.

  Three things happen simultaneously as I manage to regain my composure. I mumble goodbye, pull my hand out of his grip and quickly turn on my heels. What the hell just happened in there? I press the elevator button frantically, as if it will prompt a quicker ride, urging it to save me from this place.

  ~~~

  Outside, relieved to be back in neutral territory, I stride in a rapid, irritated gait to the car while working on easing my hyperventilation. What an arrogant jerk, what an overly attractive arrogant jerk … My fury still radiates from me as I sit in front of the wheel, my mind reviving the entire encounter, from the moment we met at the entrance hall next to his room, Daniel Stark’s room. Daniel Stark, who just asked me to have coffee with him.

  I wait for the car’s roof to completely fold before I squeeze down the pedal to start my ride back, my mind working overtime as I skim through the radio channels. “It’s so easy when everyone tries to please me.” I listen to Axel’s words, and twist my mouth in annoyance. How pertinent, I murmur, thinking of Mr. Daniel Stark.

  Chapter 4: Aftermath

  Eager to share this morning’s events with Tasha, I throw the car keys on the corridor chest and call out for her. The disturbing silence in the apartment reminds me that she’s away, visiting her parents; I could not be more frustrated.

  I hang the black jacket in my room, open the two large Victorian windows to let the fresh air in, and return to the kitchen for coffee. I grab my phone from my back pocket and click on Inbox. While the coffee machine heats up, I scan through the list of unread emails. An unfamiliar address catches my eye: DS@SST.com, it reads. Curious, I open the mail and as I look down to the author’s name. I instantly sink to the stool, surprised and highly intrigued. Forgetting all about my craving for a coffee, I start reading.

  Dear Miss Hayley J. Grace,

  On the be
half of Stark Software Technologies, Inc., I would like to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me. Miss Grace, meeting you was as valued and highly inspirational for Stark Software Technologies, Inc. as it was for me personally.

  I have raised your respective points with Mrs. Greenich at Stark Software HR, and assured her that if she has need for further elaboration, she may contact you directly. Hopefully, that won’t be too much of an imposition on you.

  Per the above, I would very much like to hear more of your educational philosophies, for the benefit of Stark Software that is. Thus, may I humbly request your company for a cup of coffee?

  Hopefully, you can spare a moment of your valuable time to meet me for further enlightenment.

  Sincerely,

  Daniel Stark

  I stare blankly at the screen of my phone, processing the information. When I finally get up to pour myself a cup of coffee, I’m not able to subdue the smirk plastered on my face. Intimidating Daniel Stark, I think to myself, remembering Tasha’s words from earlier today, and chuckle. Why would he bother to have coffee with me? It’s a complete enigma. Usually, I can read men easily. Truth be told, I play them like I want. But taking into account our encounters, and the way he’s treated me so far, or better yet, the way I’ve treated him … God, I wish Tasha or Ian were here. My fingers prickle at the thought of calling Tasha. Instead, I reread Daniel’s email for the second time and sigh. What do I say? What do I want to say? What would this man want me to say?

  I can’t stop myself any longer, and press one on my speed dial.

  “Hales, what’s up?” Tasha answers, almost whispering.

  “Can you talk? Where are you?” I whisper back.

  “Why are you whispering?” she asks and I snort.

  “We’re at the movies with my mom, anything urgent?”