The Marked One (The Marked Series Book 1)

by Chevoque

  “The gallery I’m looking at to do the exhibition with asked for ten, so four more proper portraits and we’ll be fixed.”

  “I can’t believe I’m allowing you to do this.” Aaliyah sighed as Madeline kept smiling. “But you’re right. I need the money and you need me…and I guess I’m not getting out of this one.”

  “This is uni all over again.” Madeline smiled. “So you’ll do it?”

  “Expose myself?” Aaliyah looked at the customer sitting opposite them, who quickly averted his gaze when she looked at him. “Why the hell not? We already got this far.”

  ***

  Tristan

  Tristan watched as Ivan walked into his office. “Aaliyah Labus…I can’t pronounce the damn surname.” Ivan said with an exasperated sigh as he stopped in front of the desk. “She is South African, studied here for four years at the University of Pittsburgh after doing a half year at the University of Cape Town. She came to do an interview at Break Free Cosmetics, but according to the woman in charge, Ms. Johns, she wasn’t hired because she’s overqualified.”

  “Give me that.” Ivan handed Tristan the tablet. Perusing through the document, he saw she was more than qualified, but she needed entry level experience, no matter what she had achieved at university. Her Extra Academic Activity caught his eye; she didn’t do as well with it as she had with her business major, but it was clear, based on her community service, that it was where her passion was. “Is she currently employed?”

  “If the artist of The Marked One is going to have an entire exhibition based on her, from what I heard from Kyle at BoxHeart Expressions gallery, then I suppose she does have some temporary employment with M. Spencer.” Tristan looked through what Ivan had come up with. “Oh, and based on the footage visible of Break Free Cosmetics, I think that they are going against the Gerardo policy.”

  “Explain,” Tristan said, looking at Ivan, who smoothed a hand over his charcoal hair.

  “She has not been the first woman to leave their office upset. They have been looking for a front desk receptionist for more than two months now, and every second woman to leave their office was highly upset. The guard at the main reception desk says many have cried by the time they gave back their passes.” Ivan’s face was filled with concern.

  “What was that woman at Break Free’s name again? I want to see her.” Ivan’s lips curled evilly at the sides as he held out his hand to take back the tablet. He tapped away and Tristan saw only one thing happening. “I take it you are informing her of a meeting with me.”

  Ivan smiled even more brilliantly. “Ms. Johns will be here in ten minutes. You have a conference call with Vancouver in a half hour. I’ll send her in when she arrives.” Ivan walked out of the office, and like clockwork, ten minutes later, an average woman with a tiny frame walked in like she owned the place.

  She walked right up to Tristan’s desk. “Good day, Mr. Gerardo, very pleased to meet you.” She extended her hand to him, not even hiding the fact that she was checking him out. For someone who had a full day’s work behind her back, the woman looked as if she had just arrived, as her makeup was in pristine condition—clearly a touch-up.

  He rose from behind his desk and took her hand. “Very nice to meet you. Please take a seat.” Once she was seated, he kept standing, “What is the company’s motto, Ms. Johns?”

  The woman gulped like a fish.

  “Ms. Johns, my father was a shoe polisher. As low as low could get in making it in the business world. Now, nearly thirty years later, he has an empire, but what makes Gerardo different is what makes us better than the rest.” Ms. Johns looked ill at ease. “Why have you turned away so many women who were more than fit to do a simple receptionist job? More importantly, what is going on with your staff? Every single woman that works for you looks like you. And just because it is a cosmetics company, it doesn’t mean we just require women, as your job listing states. The cosmetics company was built on the principle of supporting users of all gender identifications.”

  One corner of her lip drew up in a disgusted manner and it was clear she still approached things with an outdated mindset.

  “Now while I’m not here to judge anyone, why does it seem like you aren’t following proper interview procedures? For example, the woman you interviewed today.”

  “They were all overqualified. And the girl with the m…the girl from today was top of her class in marketing, and she—”

  “We all need to start somewhere and I understand that everyone can’t get a chance, but half of your staff is carried by the other half who can actually do their jobs.”

  The woman was pale as he turned and looked out of the window with the city at his feet.

  “Not to mention the few hundred dollars you scrape off the top every month from their commissions, so you can get even more than the hefty bonus you already receive.” When he turned to face her, Ms. Johns looked like she was about to pass out. He walked to his desk, pressed the intercom button, and when Ivan responded, he said, “Would you please ready Ms. Johns retrenchment package and get HR to replace her?”

  “On my way,” Ivan said, sounding as if he wasn’t even attempting to hide his merriment. It was sometimes worrying how much Ivan enjoyed revenge.

  Ms. Johns looked at Tristan. “How did you know about…”

  “I would’ve missed it and given you a warning for improper conduct of procedures, but while I waited for you to come up to my office, I checked your numbers. I won’t ruin your name completely by giving you over to the authorities for theft, but I’ll make sure you never work with a company that makes more than one million a year.”

  The woman clearly wanted to protest, but Ivan was walking into the office like he’d won a first prize at the fair. “I have everything ready. HR is seeking a replacement as we speak, and I even got a free doughnut from Lizzy when she brought the papers.” Ivan stuck the doughnut into his mouth and handed the papers to Ms. Johns. She seemed incapable of much as Ivan took a bite of his treat and looked at her. “Oh, your pass needs to be handed in before you leave the building.”

  Ms. Johns gained back her speech. “You can’t do this. This isn’t—”

  “Listen, lady, you could be going to jail, so take your shit and go before I start showing Mr. Gerardo which of your employees are not suitable to work here.”

  “How can you let a subordinate—”

  “Bitch, what the hell did you just call me?!” Ivan spit a little piece of doughnut into Ms. Johns’ hair.

  “Stop it, both of you,” Tristan warned, seeing the two about to start a very probable fight, where either could let loose a bitch slap. “Ms. Johns, the first thing you are supposed to know about this corporation is that we are all equals. Ivan might be my assistant, but he is a close friend and not my subordinate,” Ivan gave a very bitchy “uh-huh” and bit off another piece of the doughnut. “You may leave now.” She got out of her seat and without another word she left.

  “That was way more fun than I expected,” Ivan said between bites while his bright brown eyes flickered with utter pleasure.

  “You know you are kind of a bitch, right?” Tristan asked Ivan, taking his seat again.

  “It’s in my DNA. My mothers are bitches. I’m a bitch. My kids will hopefully someday be and I will make sure yours are as well.” He flashed Tristan his trademark smile, which stood out against his ebony skin.

  “Not happening anytime soon.” Tristan looked at his computer screen to go over a few details before his conference call with the Vancouver branch.

  Ivan walked to the screen on the opposite side of the office, turned it on, and readied a glass of water on the coffee table. “What about Ms. Labas…Labush…” Ivan took a calming breath while Tristan held back his laughter, knowing nothing irritated Ivan more than struggling with pronunciations. “How the hell do you say that surname?”

  Tristan smiled. “How about you call her and we find out tomorrow?”

  Ivan laughed full-heartedly and by the time Tr
istan took his seat on the armchair with his notes, Ivan had composed himself. “Eleven sounds okay?” He carried an evil, knowing smirk.

  Tristan sighed like an old man. “Yes, if it’s open.” Ivan headed for the door. “Just tell her that we want to do a follow-up interview and that she must check in at the security desk.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ivan sounded delighted.

  “And Ivan.” The man stopped and turned back. “Wipe off that smirk and go home after you made sure Isabella’s gift is still on the way.” The conference call came through before Ivan could reply, and Tristan hoped that Aaliyah Labuschagne would feel the connection he felt toward her since he’d first seen her portrait.

  ***

  Aaliyah

  Aaliyah was slowly regretting she had agreed to do more poses for Madeline’s art, but she had a proper meal for the first time since she was back in the US. Her bed was warm, and at least she had time now. Secretly she wondered if she would ever make enough money to buy back The Marked One and all that would follow. She was daunted by the idea that her face, her pain, was somewhere in someone’s house or office for all to see and admire.

  Her cell phone rang and inwardly she cussed, realising it was downstairs. She jumped out of the bed and nearly fell down the last few steps as she bolted to the phone on the kitchen counter. It stopped ringing the second she had it in her hand. The number didn’t look familiar, and instinct told her she likely missed one of the most important calls of her life.

  The phone buzzed even before the ringtone began playing. She picked it up. “Hello!”

  “Dear, no need to yell at me,” the man on the other end said.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Hush, I was just teasing.” She let out a sigh. “Is this Aaliyah Lab…I can’t pronounce your surname, sorry.”

  She chuckled. “No problem, and yes, yes, that’s me, Aaliyah Labuschagne.” She bit her lip to stop blurting out anything else. Her hope grew that this might be an interview or a job offer.

  “Wow, your accent doesn’t sound like they usually do in the movies. I mean, when they cast or try selling the South African accent.” She made an odd sound that was supposed to be a yes, but it sounded far off. “Anyway, I am Ivan Dennis-Patrickson from Gerardo Corporations…from HR.” The last part took the man a moment. “We would like you to come back in tomorrow at eleven, if possible.”

  “Yes, of course, thank you so much, but if I may ask, which company?” She thought a moment that it sounded a little ungrateful, because she sure wouldn’t be interviewed by the main people of the corporation. Not yet, anyway. Maybe in twenty years. She just didn’t even have experience. “Just to prepare, you know?”

  “Of course.” There was a momentary pause. “City Lights Marketing is in need of an assistant, but as you know, you would later be able to move to another company if you stand out.”

  Her lips curled into a smile. She closed her eyes and sighed softly in relief. “Thank you very much. I’ll be there.”

  “You can check in at the security desk, and I’ll come down to get you. It would be more convenient.” The man sounded more excited than she felt.

  “Very well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She could hear the sing-song tone in her voice.

  “Looking forward to it, and we apologise for the way you were treated today. Goodnight.”

  The man ended the call before Aaliyah could say anything else, but she began bouncing up and down in excitement as a squeal crossed her lips.

  Something to the right caught her eye and she jumped. A fat white rat was running along the wall where the lockers were, and the thing was easily bigger than a small dog. At least in that moment it seemed much bigger, but it bolted straight for the large hole in the corner next to the front door she hadn’t noticed before. Suddenly, the possibility that more were hiding close by completely freaked her out.

  Then there was a knock at the door, causing her to yell. “What is going on, girl?” Vera asked from outside, and Aaliyah wanted to hug the woman. She cautiously walked to the door, opened it, and placed a box in front of the hole as Vera stepped in. “What are you doing? And there are no pets allowed.”

  “Pets?” She frowned and realised Vera likely saw the rat. “Oh, that fat white rat that ran out of here isn’t mine. Believe me! I nearly had a heart attack two seconds ago.”

  Vera looked at the box. “It’s gonna chew through that.”

  “I know, but it is all I have right now.” Aaliyah looked at the box and hoped it wasn’t going to keep another visitor in. The thought made her look around reluctantly.

  “I’ll let my husband fix it,” Vera stated easily, looking at the sparsely decorated area.

  “It isn’t necessary; I know the fixes are mine to take care of.” The woman gave her a look that said, Take it. “Thank you,” she added gratefully.

  “Good, I wanted to come ask how it was going. Are you settled? And have you found a job?”

  “I’m settled so far, uhm, but I’m having a second interview with a big company I won’t mind to work for.” She sounded as excited as she felt.

  “Ah, that is good. Which one?” Vera smiled at her in a motherly way. Aaliyah might have been looking too much into the woman’s intentions, but she felt happy to have someone to tell the great news to.

  “Gerardo Corporations. They own City Lights Marketing, so I hope I might get the job. It is an assistant position, but it is something.”

  “I’m truly glad for you. And, well, I want to thank you for the money you gave to my husband, but I hope it wasn’t acquired through means…”

  Aaliyah immediately caught the suggestion the woman struggled to say. “Oh, no.” She smiled. “My friend is an artist, I modelled long ago for her portrait and she sold it, so I got my share. That’s all.”

  “It must be a beautiful picture,” Vera said.

  “Yes, she got quite a large sum of money for it,” Aaliyah said, assuming the woman referred to her paying the deposit and one month’s rent.

  “No, dear, I meant more in the lines that you have an angel’s face, assuming that it was the focus. Not to come across as being too forward for mentioning it, but you are beautiful.” The woman sounded serene.

  Aaliyah was at a loss for words. She realised that the woman didn’t look at her the way others did, and even if she might have pitied her by giving her extra time to get money for the rent, she seemed to have meant the kindness.

  Her eyes threatened to tear up. Rarely did she come across people who gave her kind words. “Thank you, I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know.”

  Vera awkwardly patted her shoulder. “You are welcome to join me and my husband for dinner sometime. I always make too much. I’ll caution you that it is going to be Italian, which might be bad if you are looking after your waistline.”

  Aaliyah chuckled. “I love Italian, so I’ll take up the offer soon.”

  Vera opened the door. “I’ll send my husband with something to cover the hole before you get an infestation of critters as well. Goodnight, dear.”

  “Goodnight, ma’am, and thank you.” Vera nodded, and the door closed. Aaliyah smiled to herself and grabbed her phone to let Madeline know how the day had changed into something from a dream.

  Chapter Three

  Aaliyah had hardly been able to sleep the previous evening, as she felt far too excited for this second chance for an interview at Gerardo Corporations. After she called Madeline, who was as excited as she was over this second opportunity, the two agreed to meet up to discuss what other portraits would be in the exhibition. She was still not pleased about doing them, but Madeline kept telling her to embrace it, which had her sounding more like Aaliyah’s mother every day.

  Since she couldn’t sleep, she was awake early enough to cover her face with the Break Free Cosmetics. She now nearly regretted that it was the only proper product that worked for her, as she was reminded of the previous day.

  What was clear was that people were lookin
g less at her, and it was why this second chance was a blessing. She didn’t want to stand out—face covered or exposed. She just wanted to blend in.

  As she walked up to the front desk, the security guard smiled at her a little creepily. “Good day. How can I help, miss?”

  “Hey, I’m not entirely sure who I’m seeing, but I’m Aaliyah Labuschagne. I’m here for an interview with City Lights Marketing.” She felt embarrassed for having forgotten the man’s name, but her excitement blurred the details.

  The man frowned at her. “I was told about you. I’ll call Mr. Dennis-Patrickson, but he’s not part of City Lights Marketing.” He looked her over as he picked up the phone’s receiver, “Hey, Ivan, the lady is here.” Aaliyah wasn’t fond of the way the man was looking at her, and she feared he might have recognised her from the day before. The man set the receiver down. “Mr. Dennis-Patrickson will be here in a moment. You can take a seat if you’d like.”

  “I’m good, thank you.” She turned to face the elevators. She paced in front of the desk, going though the details of the marketing company Gerardo began as an easy access, in-house marketing option, which later became more independent while Gerardo still held controlling interests.

  The anticipation and stress combining inside her body made her jitters even more noticeable, as she was flexing her fingers to shake them, in a near literal sense.

  “Miss, weren’t you here yesterday?” the security guard asked. Aaliyah felt a finger tap her shoulder.

  She turned around and faced a man who looked so prim and proper, she felt as if she must bow to him. He had kind brown eyes, charcoal hair shaved into perfect patterns, and he was just a little taller than she was. His smile grew wide on his attractive face, which revealed perfectly pearly teeth.

  “Ms. Aaliyah, I’m Ivan Dennis-Patrickson.” He reached out his hand to shake hers.

  She didn’t want to ruin her sheath dress by wiping her sweaty hand over the fabric, so the truth slipped from her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m too stressed.”