by Tia Siren
Ella wondered whether she was telling Mike too much background information, but he seemed to be smiling and nodding, and not at all bored, so she continued. ''They did everything they could to give me a good start in life. I couldn't have wished for better parents, but they were desperately short of money all the time. We live in a tiny apartment in Bedford, and do our best, like all the other residents, to avoid getting shot or stabbed. I went to school, seemed to do okay, and got a place at Pace. Mom and Dad were so proud of me when I landed this job; I can't tell you.''
''Well, you certainly seem to be working your way up in the world. I really admire you for that. What about hobbies? What do you like to do in your spare time.''
''I love reading, and I've done a bit of part time modeling. Nothing glamorous, but I've been in a few catalogs.''
Mike could quite see why. Ella was striking. When she'd walked into the room, he'd been very surprised to see how tall she was. He estimated five ten and she was wearing flat shoes. Her black skin shone with the healthy glow of youth, and he loved the way she wore her hair. She'd tied in up, and she looked quite the business woman. She had remarkably fine bones and a whiter than white smile. Mike liked to think of himself as a kind soul who would never look at a woman in an inappropriate manner, but faced with Ella; he was struggling to live up to his self-image. He found his eyes falling to her breasts and lovely legs far too often for his liking. Ella was wearing a skirt, and when she crossed her legs, Mike was embarrassed to feel a stir in his groin.
That’s nice,'' he said averting his eyes as Ella once again shifted her weight from one buttock to the other. ''So what do you know about PB Real Estate?''
''I know it's owner, Pavel Belyakov is a Russian, and that the company is quite new. I believe the company has existed for two years and that Mr Belyakov buy and sells residential properties in the Manhattan area,'' Ella said.
''That just about sums it up,'' Mike said, trying his best to keep eye contact. ''Our job Ella, is to complete the financial paperwork on the deals Mr Beljakov agrees. Our work calls for a high degree of accuracy, and in most cases speed. I have never seen a deal go past me that was for less than five million dollars, and most of them are above twenty million.'' Mike noticed Ella's eyes roll as she tried to image such sums. ''It's the lawyers job to make sure the contracts are water tight, and our job to make sure the money gets from Mr Beljakov's account to the vendor, on time. In addition, we are responsible for keeping an eye on how the investments perform over time. We need to check rental incomes against maintenance expenditure and so forth. As time goes by, you will learn how we do that. Any questions before we start to work?''
''No, I don't think so. I guess I'll have a thousand questions once I get started, but for now, I don't.''
''You've joined us at a great time actually. Last year Mr. Beljakov threw a mid-summer party, and he's decided to do so again. It's next week, and all his employees are invited. So you'll meet him then,'' Mike added as he stood up.
Ella sat at her desk and looked down to the street below. She'd never been so high before, and she was amazed to see how tiny the people looked as they scurried around. Mike gave her some easy tasks to do, to ease her into the job but before she began. Before she began, she took a moment to realize where she was, and what she had achieved. She, a black woman from a low-income family, had landed a well-paid job in a real estate firm, with luxury offices somewhere up in the sky. She smiled to herself. She was on her way in life, and nothing could stop her now.
*****
''Ouch, Mom, that hurt,'' Ella squealed.
''Sorry honey. I'm just trying to get these pins in. I think I need some new glasses,'' her mom said, as she held the hem of Ella's dress. ''It's a pity this party is taking place before you've got your first paycheck. You could have gone downtown and bought yourself something beautiful instead of this rag.''
''It's not a rag, mom. It was very nice of Jenny to lend me her best dress. I told her I would replace it when I got paid. It fits okay doesn't it?'' Ella was petrified. When Mike had told her about the summer party at Mr. Beljakov's, she had given no thought whatsoever to what she would wear. With two days to go , she'd suddenly realized that she didn't have a dress. Not even an old one. She'd managed to buy a couple of skirts for work, but a dress was well out of her financial reach, so she'd called her best friend and pleaded.
''It'll fit fine when I've finished with it,'' her mother said without managing to convince her daughter.
Ella looked at her mother as she knelt in front of her, trying to pin the hem of the borrowed dress. Ella felt a knot in her stomach when she saw her mom's arthritic hands struggling with the tiny pins. Her Mum had gone gray, quite suddenly after she'd lost her job. She'd thought her world had come to an end because she and her husband desperately needed the money. Ella hadn't told her mom how much her new job paid. She wanted it to be a surprise when she came home and gave her more housekeeping in a week than her mom could earn in a month at the fish factory.
''There, that's the last pin. Now go and have a look in the mirror,'' Ella's mom said.
Ella stood in her bedroom and looked at herself. ''It looks okay,'' she shouted back to the sitting room where her mom was rubbing her sore joints.
''Of course, it looks okay. You're a beautiful girl; you can carry anything off with your figure. Whoever you fall in love with, will be a very lucky man indeed.''
When Ella had first seen the dress, she hadn't been sure at all. It was made of shiny red silk, and she'd thought it too trashy. It was also low cut and showed a lot more bust than she wanted to. But after her mom's alterations, she felt more confident.
*****
''Are you okay, Ella. You're trembling,'' Mike shouted.
''It so high. I don't mind admitting, I'm scared,'' Ella replied as she stood on the roof of the building in which their office was located, and tried to prevent her dress from lifting in the wind.
''Look, it's coming. Only a couple of minutes and we'll be off,'' Mike shouted as he pointed towards a dot in the distance.
As the helicopter got closer to the landing pad, Ella didn't' know what to do. Either put her hands over her ears, and risk her dress flying up over her bottom, or keep hold of her dress and risk being deafened.
When she was safely inside the vehicle, she surveyed the damage. Her hair was all over the place, and her ears were ringing. At least, she'd been able to keep her modesty, she thought. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a mirror and a comb. While the helicopter flew over Manhattan, she did her best to fix her hair. She was less than satisfied with the result when she'd finished. The mirror was too small for hair, and it was a bumpy ride, so her hands kept moving all over the place. Heaven knows what Mr Beljakov would think when he met her, she thought.
''That's it,'' Mike said as he pointed.
Ella looked down and saw a mansion. As they got closer, she saw the most beautiful building she had ever seen. They landed on an immaculate lawn about three hundred meters away from the house. Luckily for Ella, the pilot switched the engine off before she got out, allowing her hair to stay intact. Mike jumped out first, and offered his hand, she gratefully accepted.
''Follow me,'' he said, once Ella had alighted. Ella looked around. They were on a large lawn, which was bordered by woodland on three sides. On the fourth side, there was a white post and rail fence with an open gate in it. They walked through the gate and down a path. When they rounded a corner, she saw it.
Windward Hall. Eighty-seven rooms set in thirty-three acres of land. It was built in nineteen seventeen and bought by Mr. Beljakov three years ago for thirty-seven million dollars. Ella stopped walking and took in her surroundings. She was in awe of the place. She lived in a two bedroom apartment, in a seedy part of town, and as much as she tried to imagine what it must be like to live in such a place, she couldn't. The house was white. It was built in the Tudor-Elizabethan style and had an upstairs balcony that stood on magnificent columns. The front door was en
ormous and had two beautiful brass coach lamps mounted to each side of it. To the left of the main house, there was a wing that appeared to house a library, and to the right, another wing that appeared to contain a swimming pool. To Ella, the most impressive feature was the giant chimney stack with more pots that she could count.
As they walked through the garden towards the house, Ella smelt the scent of roses. The borders were filled with flowers. She recognized some like sweet pea and Iris, but there were many varieties she had never seen before. She thought Mike would knock on the front door, but he didn't. He took a path to the left of the house and led her around to the rear of the property.
The rear of the house had an even more magnificent garden than the front. There was a terrace adorned with statues of Greek Gods and lawns, which stretched for as far as Ella could see. On the terrace she saw many expensively dressed people, most of them holding champagne glasses. Ella suddenly felt very conspicuous in her cheap borrowed dress. The women at the party were all wearing magnificent evening gowns and expensive jewelry. The mansion, the people, the surroundings, all added to make her feel poor and insignificant.
Mike smiled at her; she was sure he could sense what she was feeling, and she was grateful to him for making an effort to put her at ease. She followed him to the crowd of people, where he introduced her to a group of women who looked as if they'd never done a hard day’s work in their lives. Ella spoke politely and explained that she was new to the company and that she'd just graduated. When they asked where she lived, she lied.
After Ella had drunk her first glass of champagne, she began to feel a little less inhibited. She told herself that she was as good as any of these people and that she was on her way up the ladder, and would one day be rich like them.
''Ella,'' Mike called as he beckoned her to him. ''I want you to meet Mr. Beljakov. This is Ella Freeman, she's my new assistant,'' he said to the man standing next to him.
''Please to meet you, Mr. Beljakov,'' Ella said as she shook his hand.
''Pavel, call me Pavel, please. Mike gets so formal. It must be his English roots,'' he said. Ella tried to sum Pavel up. It wasn't difficult. She only needed three words: rich and gorgeous. ''How are you settling in at work?'' he asked.
Ella was awestruck. A tall man, several inches taller than she, he had blue eyes and blonde hair. He was remarkably fresh faced, which made her place him at around thirty, certainly no older. When he spoke, he spoke perfect English, but he had a Russian accent that Ella found gave him a boyish charm.
''Fine thank you. I am very pleased I got the job. It isn't easy to find work these days,'' she replied.
''I'm very happy to have you working for me. I need talented people. When Steffi told me about you, I was very impressed and eager to meet you. I'm very glad you came today.''
''I'm pleased I came too, and it's lovely to meet you,'' Ella said.
Ella prided herself on being a good judge of character, and she saw a man who, despite his wealth, was a little insecure. The way he spoke to her was gentle and soft, and yet she knew from the little she had seen of his company so far, that he could be a ruthless negotiator. When she and Mike had talked about him, Mike had described him as kind and good-natured, but he'd warned her that when his back was against the wall, his nature often changed into that of a cold assassin.
''Please excuse me, I need to have a word with someone over there. Business never ends,'' Pavel said smiling at her. As he turned, his eyes lingered and scanned her body. ''We're going to have lunch shortly. It's a buffet, quite informal; perhaps you would do me the honor of keeping me company as we eat,'' he asked.
Ella, lost for words, just nodded.
When the buffet was ready, Ella stood in line waiting to take a plate.
''No, you don't have to stand in line,'' Pavel said as she walked up to her.
''I have ten employees, and they always go first. Those people standing in line are real estate agents and bankers and their partners. They're here for a free meal so that I can get a reduced rate from them when I use their services. Come with me.''
Ella followed him to the front and, was charmed when he handed her a plate. Ella looked down the table, and there was almost every type of food she could think if. Meats, fish, vegetable, fruits and delicious looking pastries. ''It all looks so delicious, I haven't a clue where to start,'' she said.
''Start wherever you like. There is just one rule,'' Pavel said pulling a cheeky face. ''You have to eat at least one spoonful of caviar. I had it flown in, from Russia specially for today. It's from my hometown.''
''You had a plane fly it here?''
''Yes, my plane went and fetched it.''
''But isn't that terribly expensive,'' Ella asked slightly concerned at the decadence he was displaying.
“I suppose it's expensive, but the plane doesn't fly empty on the way over there. It's crammed full of toys for an orphanage I look after.''
Ella felt guilty for even questioning his motives. ''Well, in that case, I'll have two spoonfuls.''
When they had both filled their plates, Pavel showed her to a table. It was big enough for four to sit at, but nobody came and sat with them. Ella assumed people would only do that if they were invited and Pavel didn't seem to want any more company.
''How long have you lived in the US?'' Ella asked.
''Since I was twenty-five, so for about five years.''
''I hope you don't mind me prying but why did you come here?''
''I am from a town called Sochi, on the Black Sea. I was an orphan; it seems nobody wanted me,'' he said with a grin. Ella didn't find his quip funny.
''When I was eighteen, I was drafted into the Red Army, like all kids my age. I spent twenty-four months under an officer called Abram Volkov. He was also from Sochi. We left the army at more or less the same time, and when he got into real estate and other business activities, he gave me work doing jobs for him. When he moved his business empire to New York, he brought me here with him.''
''What kind of jobs?'' Ella asked.
Pavel looked into her eyes. Where had this beauty suddenly appeared from? he thought. ''Jobs like collecting money from people, and threatening to break their legs if they didn't pay,'' Pavel said openly.
''Mafia stuff?'' Ella asked without actually wanting to know the answer.
''Abram is a very dangerous man, and he has connections. In Sochi, every second person walks with a limp because he thinks they've crossed him. I was young and strong, and Abram used me to collect rents. Sure, I had to get my hands dirty sometimes, but Ella, it was Russia.'' Ella nodded and somehow she seemed to understand.
''So you came to the US. And do you like it here?''
''I like it very much. It's a place where you can make vast sums of money. I seem to have done quite well so far.'' Ella was about to tell him, that money wasn't everything, but she knew it would sound hypocritical. After all, she was working for him, and she needed him to do well.
''It's very rude of me, I know, but how does someone get so rich. How can you be born an orphan, and end up this rich,'' Ella gestured to the mansion.
Pavel wiped his fingers on a crisp white serviette and thought for a while. ''It's difficult to explain. One day I saw something I shouldn't have and certain people are grateful for my silence. '' Ella was fascinated. He had only known her for a few minutes, yet he was telling her things, that most other people would keep secret. ''All I did was work for Abram for some years, save the money he paid me, and invest in a piece of real estate. That was a success , and so I kept on doing it.'' He paused as he cut a piece of chicken down to bite size. '' Dealing just seemed to come naturally to me. When I thought I had enough cash, I told Abram I wanted to start up on my own, and that's what I've been doing for the last two years.''
''What did he say to you?'' Ella wanted to know.
Pavel pushed a piece of tomato into his mouth and thought about how to answer such a tricky question. ''He wasn't happy at all. Will you go on a date with me?'
' he said out of the blue.
Ella almost spat her food out in surprise. ''Why do you want to date me?'' she asked.
''Because you are beautiful and you intrigue me.''
''You are a very rich man. You have more money that a thousand people will ever see in their lives. I am a black woman from a poor background, and I live in a shit hole. You've gotta be joking.''
Pavel laughed out loud, and a number of people looked at them. ''Er... no actually, I wasn't joking.''
''You could have any woman walking the planet and you want me? Pavel, I've known you for half an hour, and you've already asked me on a date. How do I know you don't do this to every woman you meet? How do I know you're not just messing with me?''
Pavel looked at her dress and wondered where she had bought it. Her breasts looked gorgeous, and he wanted to unpack them on the spot. ''You can only find out if I'm messing with you, by saying yes. If you say no, you will never find out. The moment I saw you, I couldn't take my eyes off you. The choice is yours.''
Ella's head was spinning. Was she in a dream of some kind? Only a few days ago, she was an unemployed graduate, and now she was being chased by a Russian billionaire.
*****
''Ah, my dear Pavel. Sit down, I just have a bit of business to attend to, and I'll be right with you,'' Abram said as he held his hand over the phone.
His appearance had changed significantly in the years since Pavel had first met him, Pavel thought. He had always been a big guy, but now at the age of fifty-two, he was on the fat side of muscular. His hair had gone gray, and it had started to thin on top. He was now the kind of man, who went around with beads of sweat rolling from his forehead, a sure sign he was out of condition. Abram had a round face, and he was quite obviously Russian. Pavel, on the other hand, had much finer Slavic features and could be thought to come from a number of countries.