by Lili Porter
“No, I haven’t seen him this morning. Be right there.”
Sipping his coffee, he buzzed Willa. “Can you come in here for a second, please, Willa?”
“Yes, Mr. Montovani,” she said.
Paolo tried to relax his thoughts, but didn’t have much time. The door opened and both Willa and Davit walked through. Willa stood there, blushing next to his brother who walked in with a hand pushed down into his pocket, the other finishing a text. Davit turned and smirked at Willa and then looked at Paolo and shook his head. Paolo looked at the two of them, quickly assessing the situation.
“Willa, would you bring me some more coffee,” he asked, handing his cup to her.
“You want something?” he asked Davit.
“Naw, I’m good,” Davit said and again he smirked at Willa.
Willa walked over to Paolo, cautiously and unsteady on her new high heels, and took the mug. Then she glanced at the two men and walked out of the office, seeming quite self -conscious.
“That chick’s weird,” Davit said. “Acts like she can’t talk when I’m around. Just looks at me all...” He made a googly-eyed look that made his older brother chuckle.
“Don’t be leading her on,” Paolo said quite seriously. “She’s very reliable and reliable help is hard to find.”
Davit frowned. “Please. I’m not giving that woman ideas, whatever’s going on with her is definitely all in her head.”
“Well, you just make sure you don’t consciously contribute to it.”
Davit sat down, unbuttoning his suit-coat. “Whatever, dude.”
Paolo shook his head and waved it off. There was something more important to discuss. “Papa called.” Two simple, yet magical words. That was all it took for Davit to get focused.
5
Click, click, click. The camera flashed photo after photo.
“Turn to your right, Karisma. A little more. Good...Beautiful!”
Karisma turned and twirled as she posed for the photographer. On this day, the clothes she modeled were those of up and coming designers. Considered a fashion icon, her style was often and widely emulated, and a piece worn by her was guaranteed to garner attention and plenty of more affordable knock-off versions.
“Oh yeah, girl, work it!” Juan the cameraman said. He was a small and thin guy with a wild orange Mohawk. But he was the best. “You’re such a diva, Karisma. A perfect canvas,” he cooed as he took pictures of her in nearly every pose he could think of.
Karisma was patient, following orders and giving her best. It was always grueling work and after several hours, she was often bored with the entire process. As Juan called out orders, she lifted up a sheer red scarf and held it above her head. It blew in the breezy February wind and she heard Juan’s excitement about it.
“Don’t stop, this is great,” he encouraged her excitedly.
She placed the scarf on her head and wrapped it around her neck while placing her hands on her hips and pouting her sexy red lips at him.
“Oh my gawd, this is fantastic, Karisma. Gorgeous! I’m feeling your sexy love.”
While Karisma gave seductive, alluring looks to the camera her mind thought about Paolo and every detail of the fine man that he was. She felt warm inside when she thought of him and she could still feel his kiss from the day before. She licked her lips at the memory.
“Yeah, girl, show me what you’re working with!” Juan yelled enthusiastically.
A long six hours later, they were done. Clicking his teeth, Juan said, “That’s it, Karisma.”
“Finally,” she said, but she smiled at Juan, the feisty photographer with a flair for bringing out the best in all his subjects. Then Karisma looked over to her assistant, Sierra Kennedy, who was standing off to the side, holding an iPad in one hand, an iPhone in the other. She was multitasking with mastery, making Karisma realize how much she appreciated her even more. Without a reliable assistant like that, it wasn’t easy to stay on track and organized with any given day.
Sierra had been working as an intern when she was referred to Karisma to replace Karla, who had moved to the boardroom. Impressed with the intelligence and work ethic of the twenty-nine year old, Karisma took her on. Sporting a short, naturally curly brown afro, and standing just a few inches over five feet, Karisma affectionately called her friend, “Fluffy Stuff.” It was a fitting nickname, one that Sierra didn’t mind. Really, why would she? She was the personal assistant to the Karisma Montgomery. Sierra looked up from her phone as Karisma approached, pushing her dark sunglasses up on her honey colored face.
“So are we done here?” she asked as Karisma reached to take her purse from her.
Karisma nodded. Sierra could see the fatigue on her face.
“Yes, and I am sooo tired. I need a shower and a nap,” she said.
“How do the pictures look?” Sierra asked, tapping out a message to Wolfe that they were finished and for him to come retrieve Karisma’s bag.
“Juan always does a great job, but as you know, he never lets me look right away,” Karisma said.
“He’s one finicky wild man,” Sierra said, making Karisma giggle.
“True dat.”
A few seconds later, Wolfe appeared, swinging both arms and bending to pick up the small Coach duffle bag lying on the ground.
Looking at Karisma, he asked, “You ready, boss lady?”
“Yep, all done. Let’s go,” she said. They walked out to the Bentley and Wolfe opened the door for Karisma and she got inside, followed by Sierra. Once inside, she asked for the messages. She glanced at them and nodded. “Ap-nay ime-tay,” Kari said. It meant nap time in pig Latin, the officially preferred dialogue between the two—just for fun, and to drive people crazy on occasion.
“Okay-way,” Sierra said back in the same secret language. Kari put her feet in Sierra’s lap and closed her eyes.
***
Karisma woke up to Sierra shaking her foot. “We’re home, Kari.”
“Wow, I was really knocked out,” she replied, wiping her hand down her face.
Sierra began gathering some of her things, as Wolfe helped them both from the car. Kari looked up at her home with the same appreciation she had when she designed it. It was a Tuscan inspired home, showing simple eloquence and great beauty in all the little features. It had been the type of home that Kari had always dreamed of as a child.
“I won’t need you this evening, Wolfe,” Karisma declared. “I’m going out.”
“No? Okay,” he said cautiously. He knew better than to ask questions, but Kari could see he had some. He got back into the Bentley and drove it around back to the garage.
Then, as if by magic, Clyde, one of the men on her house staff, opened the door in greeting. “Welcome home, Miss Kari,” he said, bowing slightly and smiling broadly.
Smiling back, she said, “Thank you, Clyde. It’s good to be home.” She floated past the much older man with the burnt sienna skin, and touched his arm affectionately.
“Oh, Miss Kari, two dozen red roses arrived for you today while you were gone,” Clyde added.
Kari had already made her way up the winding marble staircase and she paused, turning her head. “More roses? Who are these from?”
“The card said, ‘I love you’,” he informed her as he watched her from the dimly lit foyer.
The recessed lighting in there gave the area a cozy feel to her, but it was in direct contrast to how she felt at that moment, which was a little creeped out.
“That’s what the card from yesterday said, too, didn’t it?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
“I don’t know about that, Miss Kari,” he said, shaking his head slowly with a look of confusion on his own unlined face.
Sienna interjected. “Yes, it did.”
Karisma and Clyde were still looking at each other and Sierra said, “Clyde, can you bring me the card that was attached, please? I’ll show it to Amani.”
Clyde’s expression changed immediately. “Right away,” he said and left.
“We’ll be in Karisma’s room,” Sierra called out. Then she turned to Kari and said, “I have no idea if that man heard me.”
“The man hears everything,” she replied softly. “Do you think the flowers and attempted break in are related?”
“I’m not sure, but we’ll let Amani figure it out,” she said, walking alongside her to her room.
***
Amani was furious about the mysterious break in attempt at Karisma’s home and the roses that kept coming from an unknown sender. It made him fear the worst type of person to deal with—a stalker. And Karisma was unaware that the roses had been coming for weeks now, not just for the past two days.
The gate guard normally screened the gifts coming through the gate before sending them through to security, and they were usually checked by Omar, but he was sick with the flu and a breakdown in communication allowed the flowers in the house. Twice. So, after calling Ray Bryant, the self-proclaimed Bad Boy of Rap, to confirm that he was not the source of the roses, Amani was assured that Ray had not gifted Karisma with anything in months. He believed him, too, because Ray didn’t mess with him.
Amani was going to have to be more aggressive in his approach, even if it meant staking out the security gate himself to see what was happening. The security cameras showed a plain white van delivering the flowers so there were no leads as to a florist available. Since he began working for Karisma, he’d diffused many situations like this without Karisma ever being the wiser for it. She didn’t need to know and have added worries to her already busy life. He prided himself on that and now, this intrusion, was infuriating him because he couldn’t easily solve or manage it. He personally wanted to get a hold of the guy and make him sorry he ever thought he would get at Karisma. The sound of Jamil Odebo’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.
“You wanted to see me, Amani?” Jamil walked up, short in stature but large in bulk, and was sporting his usual scowl.
“Yeah, we need to start looking at the break in with new eyes,” Amani said, turning to face Jamil.
“Why? What do you think is going on?” Jamil asked. They began making their way to the security room where all the monitors and main surveillance sources were located.
“Were you aware that Karisma received another bouquet of roses?” Amani asked.
Jamil frowned. “No, I wasn’t. Everything goes through Omar. She actually got them?”
“Yeah. Clyde handed them to Wolfe, who assumed they were checked out. Evidently, they were given to Clyde again, while Karisma was at her photo shoot.”
“I need you to check out everybody working that gate and make sure they understand protocol around here,” Amani said, looking Jamil in the eye.
“Got it.”
“And make sure everyone knows that this is a code five. She gets two guards. You and Wolfe don’t leave her side for anything, feel me?”
“I hear you,” Jamil said. “When she asks why there are two of us, what should I say?”
“Say that it’s just as a precaution,” Amani replied. “Tomorrow we sophisticate our hardware even further.”
“Good plan,” Jamil said.
The entire security team was freaked out by the thought of a stalker because they would do whatever was necessary to take them down before they ever got close enough to Karisma Montgomery to put her in danger.
***
Later that evening, Karisma sat at her vanity putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Looking at her reflection, she felt satisfied with the results. Blotting her signature red lipstick, she turned to Sierra. “I look okay?”
“Please, you always look more than okay. You look stunning,” Sierra said, chuckling softly and wondering why a girl with Karisma’s looks would ask such a question.
“I sure hope that Amani and the guys find out what’s going on around here. I’m a little freaked out,” she said, rising to grab the black ankle boots she wanted to wear.
Sitting on the edge of her king sized bed, she slipped her feet into the boots and zipped them up. They looked great over the indigo blue denim skinny jeans. Fashionista that she was, she knew what looked good together. Tonight, her cuff bracelet, teardrop earrings and shoulder bag had rhinestone and crystal accents. Her sleeveless white silk blouse even had the jewels. Plucking her waist length leather jacket from a chair, she gave herself a final once over in the full length mirror as she breezed out the door, her Viktor and Rolf Flowerbomb perfume trailing its beautiful scent behind her.
***
He was standing next to the polished ebony grand piano in her living room tinkling on the ivories when she sashayed in. She wanted to throw herself in his arms when she saw him, but decided against it. The way he looked up at her and eyed her lustily drove her wild.
“Hey, beautiful,” Paolo said as they met in the middle. He kissed her lips and moved away far too quickly.
“Hey, yourself, good lookin,” she said in a breathlessly flirtatious voice. “You play?”
“No, I’m an athlete, not a musician,” he chuckled.
“Really? What sport?”
“I played football in college and I have a black belt in Tae Kwon Do,” he told her.
“That’s so cool. Wait, football to you is like soccer to me, right?”
“You got it,” Paolo said.
“And the black belt…interesting. I like it, you can be my bodyguard.”
“You want me to guard your body, sweetheart?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and moving back in on her.
Flirting, she backed away from him, asking, “You up for it?”
He stopped moving and reached out, pulling her in. “What do you think?”
His lips crashed against hers in a circular motion, licking her tongue until she mimicked his actions. His hands cupped her face and neck and she moaned. He smirked down at her. “That’s a sample,” he said, sucking her bottom lip.
Pulling away from his mouth, she quirked her lips. “Just a sample, huh?” Putting her nose in his chest, she inhaled and said, “You smell good.”
“So do you,” he said, low and sexy. He continued to hold her close and they stared into each other’s eyes. “How was the photo shoot?”
“Long, but I love to play dress up. How was your day? Sign any new talent?”
“Not today. But to be honest, I was distracted all day.”
“Oh really? What had you all hot and bothered, Mr. Montovani?”
“I couldn’t wait to see you,” he admitted.
Now she was stroking his chest. “Is that right? I felt the same way myself.”
Paolo stroked her back with his fingertips. He kissed her again, his close cut beard brushing against her cheek. “Ready to go?”
“I am as long as I’m with you,” she said as he intertwined their fingers.
***
When they arrived at The Trapeze, a swanky club frequented by the rich and famous, they were immediately ushered to a small intimate booth in the back. The club was loud and everywhere one looked, there were celebrities dancing and partying like it was 1999. Wolfe and Jamil sat at a table nearby, after explaining the need to Karisma and watched out for anyone who might appear suspicious. Paolo and Karisma sat close, engrossed in one another. People who knew her chatted her up, and most were eager to meet Paolo. There were those who were already acquainted with the new CEO of the FutureShock. Paolo sat with his arm around Karisma and she tucked her body tightly into his. They people watched and she shared stories about her experiences in Hollywood.
Paolo was fascinated with Kari and her perspective on it all. He was an ideal listener and date. A waitress who wasn’t the one helping them previously came over and greeted Paolo by name.
She was blonde and cute and gazed at Paolo a little too long, and while he didn’t seem to notice, Karisma did. So what? She thought. He’s mine tonight.
“Another bottle of Dom Perignon,” Paolo said to the waitress.
Kari nodded her head. He was trying to get her to relax—a lot. Sh
e shook her head. If only he knew that he made her feel drunk without so much as a drop of alcohol.
“You got it,” she said, without looking at Kari once.
“She must be new,” Karisma said aloud. She looked at Paolo, who smirked at her and shrugged. “I guess the diva came out,” she added, laughing at her own spunk.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, kissing her hand.
“Very much,” Kari said, smiling at him like a crazy child with a crush. Just then, a Goldust tune came on and the crowd screamed. “Selfie!” she announced, pulling out her phone and taking a picture.
“That’s not going on Facebook or Instagram, is it?” he asked.
“Nope, that’s for me,” she smiled.
“Good,” he said bluntly. Before she could ask another question he spoke again. “I love your voice on that song. Do you want to dance?”
“Absolutely,” she whispered.
He rose, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor.
“Come on, Queen!” someone yelled to her as she and Paolo worked their way in.
He held her and she grinned as others on the dance floor, sang along to the song, “Who Dat Girl ?” which featured Karisma’s lead vocals. He held her closer and turned, nearly bumping into a guy who stood nearly seven feet tall.
“Hey, man, how are you?” Paolo asked in a friendly voice and then extended his arm for a handshake.
“Paolo Montovani!” the tall guy exclaimed. “Ah, man! Good to see you!”
“You too. Let me introduce you to Karisma Montgomery.”
The man, a pro ballplayer, looked at Karisma and she smiled, noting the Minnesota Timberwolves logo on his baseball hat. They were in town playing the Lakers.
“Nice to meet you,” Karisma said to the truly star struck athlete.
“Miss Montgomery, I’m a big fan,” he said, placing his large palm over his heart and grinning widely.
She smiled. She hadn’t heard of the guy before, but he certainly was tall.