by Sonja Gunter
Monday seemed like eons away, but soon Mark wasn’t going to know what hit him. Now that she’d made up her mind to go after him, The Wall.
The next morning she found herself anxious, but for what she didn’t know. She spent the late morning going grocery shopping and doing errands. When she returned home, she decided to tackle her special work projects.
“Done!” Rane said aloud, causing Thor to open his eyes, clearly annoyed she’d disturbed his nap.
“Hey, big boy, sorry.”
She watched as Thor’s eyes closed in indifference. Leaning back in the chair, she stared at the computer while she waited for the coveted report to finish printing.
“I’ve done it,” she exclaimed, this time making sure not to interrupt Thor again.
One report down. Time to celebrate.
Chocolate chip with pecans or turtle caramel swirl ice cream. Decisions, decisions. Her mouth watered at the thought of either. Debating hard over the two choices, she let the turtle caramel swirl win.
Klink. Klink.
The computer signaled she’d received an update on Facebook. Without having to look, she knew it had to be from Val.
My new man turned out to be a dud.
Rane smiled at Val’s remark. She didn’t know how Val did it. They’d gone out last night. She’d had an early morning court appointment this morning and still Val had been on another date tonight.
Serves you right, she typed back.
What about Tues.?
Leave it to Val to remind her about her lunch date when she’d been trying to forget about it all weekend. Before she answered, another message flashed.
What are you going to wear for your date?
It’s not a date! Rane quickly typed.
Why did Val always have to turn things into a sexual encounter?
Rane sent a second message.
It’s a BUSINESS LUNCH date! And he hasn’t even accepted.
Before she could correct her own misuse of the word date, her finger had hit ‘send’. Damn.
The printer went quiet, drawing her attention back to the reports. She took the papers and stepped over to the table, and laid them out. She’d just begun to sort out the papers when she heard the unmistakable sound.
Klink. Klink.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the little box on the screen. She contemplated ignoring the message so she could focus on her task at hand but curiosity got the better of her.
Make sure you get a good look at his hands.
Rane’s eyebrows drew together.
Hands? What was Val trying to get at?
Afraid to ask, she pointed the conversation away from herself.
What was wrong with your date?
As she hit the send button, a new message appeared.
Measure the length of the middle finger to the wrist.
Rane gasped as another message appeared.
It’s a good sign as to how good he’ll be in bed.
A second gasp came out this time, and her hand flew to her mouth to quiet the sound. Thor meowed, clearly letting her know she’d disturbed him again. Leave it to Val to come up with a sexual innuendo.
I think you need to get laid! Rane pressed ‘send’ and added, Not me.
She hit ‘send’ and quickly added another. It is a lunch meeting!
However, even as she sent the message Rane couldn’t help but recall his hands. He did have nice ones. And they were strong.
Another message from Val. Grinning, Rane read,
Doesn’t mean you can’t look. From what I saw WOW! I’m going to bed. See ya at the mall. Night.
Smiling, Rane typed, Manicure. Night.
The screen went silent but her mind didn’t. The report lay forgotten on the table. Val had her thinking once again about The Wall. Not that Mark had ever been far from her thoughts since their very first encounter the day of the interview.
The ice cream was half gone by the time she’d come up with a plan to make Mark go out with her. Nothing elaborate, just something simple. She was going be straightforward and ask him for a business lunch.
No flirting.
No word games.
The last spoonful of ice cream made it to her mouth when, kling, kling, sounded again.
What could Val want now? Probably another sick idea.
Rane went to the computer. As she got closer an uneasy feeling came over her. The screen name above the message started with the letter D.
Ro, Honey Baby, I miss you.
White anger came over her and the screen went blurry. Only one person had ever called her Honey Baby.
David.
How had he gotten her screen name? She thought she’d blocked him from her Facebook. She hardly ever heard from him, usually only his accountant, to let her know her monthly deposits were being sent. She stood staring at the screen, unable to move.
Ro, I want you back.
This second message prompted her out of her trance and before a third message could come across her screen, she signed off.
His words, I want you back, kept running through her mind. Her heart fluttered slightly at the thought. Not from the possibility of going back to him but from what he’d do to get her back. The screen now showed calming blue water and palm trees, so serene, so different from how she felt. She sat back down on the couch, her empty ice cream pint to the left and Thor to the right, still meowing.
What had just happened? Had she fallen asleep and had a nightmare? No, she’d been awake the whole time the clock confirmed it.
Even if she hadn’t been asleep, receiving a message from David was her worst nightmare coming true. Why had he sent her a message saying he wanted her back? She was afraid, even after all these years, she’d fall into his same old trap again. He was so damn good looking it still tore at her heart to think about him. She’d given him everything only to have it thrown in her face.
She picked Thor up and went to bed, knowing deep down she was only putting off having to deal with David but she needed time to figure out what to do.
Chapter 14
Immediately upon getting into his limo Monday morning, Mark once again put up the privacy window. His home had felt like a jail all weekend with Philip fretting like a woman every time a car came near the house. He’d been worse than his childhood nannies by not letting him out of the gates.
At this moment, he had no passion for darts. All he wanted to do was take one of those fuckin’ things and stick it into Philip. They’d played so much over the last couple of days he never wanted to see the damn things again. To make matters worse, when they hadn’t been engaged in a dart match, all Philip had wanted to do was talk about how to secure his home, office building, and all his employees.
They’d argued this morning because they’d had a difference of opinion about going into the office. And now Philip’s mood had turned surly. It had begun at breakfast. Philip hadn’t wanted him to leave the safety of the grounds, saying he couldn’t protect him with so many people around. But Philip had finally given in when he’d agreed not to leave the MAC building.
To top off his morning he had an ongoing headache, the one nagging him since his Massaro incident. Today it was being persistent. He was anxious to get to the office for the mere fact he’d have other people to talk to soon. As they neared the office, his mood became lighter. The thought of catching another whiff of Ms. Schoen’s intoxicating perfume filled him with anticipation.
When they pulled up to the entrance he hurried out of the car, not waiting for Philip. His mood elevated another degree as he entered the elevator. He hadn’t been able to forget Ms. Schoen all weekend. He’d been like a man possessed, taking late-night swims in his private outdoor pool to cool his sexual fervor for her. His face ti
ghtened in regret as the doors closed. Her incredible fragrance had long since vanished leaving only new aromas from the morning’s previous passengers, none hers.
As he exited the elevator, Mark greeted Linda, then slyly glanced in the direction of Rane’s office before continuing to his own. Her door had been open but he hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of her. Without breaking stride, he grabbed the handful of messages Mrs. Weber held out and wandered to his desk. Then picked up the phone, dialed extension five-seven-four, and ignored the stack of messages.
“Hello, this is Mr. Hansen.”
“Mr. Hansen, I would like to see Ms. Schoen’s personal file,” Mark requested.
“Yes, Mr. Christmenn, I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Fine. Thank you.” Hanging up, he called out, “Mrs. Weber, come in here.”
Mrs. Weber, who was nearly sixty-five, was the closest thing to a mother he’d known. She knew everything there was to know about the company business, his family, and his own private life. He could tell her anything and knew she wouldn’t judge him but advise him knowing he’d listen. It was times like this that his old childhood wish surfaced; that she’d been his mother, and not the uncaring woman he’d called Mother.
Sometimes he’d catch Mrs. Weber watching him with a certain longing look, as if she knew something he didn’t and wanted to tell him but couldn’t. It made him wonder about the possibility that she might truly be his mother.
It would’ve been like his father to do something as deceitful as to pass off his mistress’ son as his wife’s son. He’d known his father and Mrs. Weber had been seeing each other for years while his mother turned the other cheek, never saying anything. The affair had never lessened his opinion of Mrs. Weber, only of his father.
Maybe that was why he’d been an only child.
Could it be one of the many reasons why his mother had never wanted him around for very long, even to this day?
The day his father’s will had been read, his mother had taken her fortune and left the country. She rarely wrote, called, or came home to visit anymore. It was as if she had disowned him. He did, however, out of respect keep tabs on her in case she’d ever needed him. She was his mother, after all.
Or was she?
Damn it!
He wanted to know!
He smiled at the possibility Mrs. Weber could actually be his mother. Mrs. Weber had received a huge trust for life in his father’s will. No one had ever questioned it. His mother’s reaction, however, had been unusual. She’d gotten up and left the room. He’d followed her, thinking she’d become sick or something but she’d given him her usual pat on the head and fixed a smile on her face. They’d returned to the room to find Mrs. Weber gone. The reading had continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
That had been eighteen years ago. Over the years, he’d even hired a handful of private investigators to find proof, one way or the other, whether Mrs. Weber could be his biological mother. They’d always failed. He knew it would be simple to request a DNA test but he wanted to find out the old-fashioned way. Someday, which wasn’t today, he was going to just come out and ask her.
Mrs. Weber entered as usual, with her notepad in her hand and took a seat in front of his desk. Some things never changed.
“Ms. Schoen has requested a business lunch,” she announced. “Do you want me to schedule one in?”
He smiled broadly. “Make it for tomorrow.”
“On Tuesday you have a lunch scheduled with the company lawyers.”
“Change it. They can wait. They only want a free lunch,” Mark said flatly.
“Yes, sir,” she stated with a knowing smile.
“Mr. Hansen will be arriving shortly. Bring him in when does.”
“Okay, Mr. Christmenn,” she answered with assurance, and then asked, “Is there anything else?”
“Yes, please resend the memo about employees staying late. Apparently, Ms. Schoen isn’t aware of my late-night habits here at the office.”
“Oh my, did something happen?”
“Nothing other than running into each other. No harm done. And, yes, I was fully clothed,” he said but smiled inwardly wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been.
After she left, he continuously paced from one room to another as he waited for Mr. Hansen’s arrival. The hand-drawn picture on his desk drew his attention, making him forget his original eagerness.
It wasn’t a masterpiece or worth millions but it held memories beyond anything he’d ever thought possible. He’d watched the girl from the plane painstakingly color it with colored pencils.
The picture was half of the Walt Disney Epcot Park’s big sphere at the park’s entrance with a stick figure girl standing next to it. In a childlike handwriting in all large capital letters, the message said at the top; Meet me in 20 years.
Mark wondered if she would remember as he had. He’d been twenty-two when she’d given it him. She, on the other hand, had only been thirteen. Too young to have known that what she’d asked had been inappropriate. Her marriage proposal had shocked him. It had been his first marriage proposal, but over the years, many women had followed suit. The later ones had been different. The young girl’s had come from the heart. An innocent child, not a woman trying to obtain something.
He couldn’t believe twenty years had gone by since that plane ride. His life sure hadn’t turned out as he’d assumed it would.
Lucy had left him heartbroken at the tender age of eighteen. His father’s death had turned him into a man sooner than he had wanted. Then there’d been the many women who’d tried to seduce him for his fortune. And, if someone had told him drug dealers would someday try to kill him, he would have laughed until his sides ached.
“Mr. Christmenn, Mr. Hansen is here to see you,” Mrs. Weber announced over the intercom.
He set the picture down and gazed expectantly toward the door.
“John, come in and sit down,” Mark said when he arrived at the door. “I have some special projects coming up soon and I wanted to confirm Ms. Schoen will be able to handle them,” he stated as they sat down not giving away his true intentions.
“Her references checked out so well we offered her the job during her first interview,” John replied.
Mark couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t surprise him she’d be good at what she did.
“This is her first position with a company our size,” John stated, then added, “However, she did come highly recommended from her previous employer. I can’t believe some of the other Fortune Five Hundred Companies hadn’t found out about her. I believe you’ll find she’ll be a welcome asset to the company.”
John held out Ms. Schoen’s file.
Mark took the file and opened it up. “Thanks, John, I’ll have Mrs. Weber return it when I’m finished.” He hardly noticed John stand and leave but waited to hear the door close before picking up the phone.
“Philip, come up to my office.” He didn’t wait for a response. He simply hung up and studied the paperwork in Ms. Schoen’s file.
Mrs. Weber announced Philip was waiting and Mark rose to his feet.
“Thanks, Mrs. Weber,” Mark said before she left.
Philip eyed the two of them as he seated himself in a chair next to the couch.
Mark strode over and joined him after he’d closed the door, ignoring Mrs. Weber’s unhappy look. He placed Ms. Schoen’s file on the table in front of them.
“Philip, I need you to check out this employee. I need a full history.”
Mark watched as Philip’s eyebrows arched at the same time a smile came to his lips.
“Yes, Philip.” Mark gave a tight smile, knowing all too well how his friend would react. “I’m showing interest in an employee. I’m breaking all my own rules.”
Mark scowled at him. “Don’t play games with me today, damn it. Your ‘Mr. Scotty’ attitude isn’t going to work. You should know me better than that.”
“Well, from the look on your face, is one week OK?” Philip continued in a teasing manner.
Mark deepened his scowl and stood.
“Okay! Okay, I need more dilithium crystals to get you your information by the end of the day.”
“Philip, I’ll give them to you in the ass if you don’t wipe that grin off your face right now,” Mark growled. “If I don’t have it by the end of the day, you won’t have a dart partner for three months.”
Now that the game had ended, it was Mark’s turn to smile as he saw Philip’s grin disappear as fast as it had appeared.
Mrs. Weber’s knock stopped any further word games as Philip silently stomped out with the file.
If time could stand still, it did that morning as Mark kept checking the clock. Even going to lunch hadn’t given him the peace he’d wanted. He knew Mrs. Weber was beginning to suspect something was up. She asked if she could get him anything every time he stepped in the doorway to see if Philip was coming yet. He wanted that report now! Patience wasn’t one of his virtues. Even cursing Philip wasn’t helping so he swore that if he was even a minute late, he was going through with his earlier threat.
To pass the time he went over the charts Agent Nelson and Philip had designed for his protection. Beefing up security was easy but keeping the press at bay was harder than he’d imagined.