Cold Bastard

by India Kells

  She had been told that Ellen Harrington had been Archer Blackwood’s executive assistant for years now. Dedicated, incorruptible, loyal, she was like Cerberus at the gate and Gabrielle had told her that she was the one she needed to convince. If she could pass the test, Zoe would have the job.

  “Ms. Somersby?”

  Zoe turned to see a middle-aged woman standing at a side door. No more than 55, she had short platinum blond hair, a pin-striped suit and smart black pumps. Zoe smiled and offered her hand. “Ms. Harrington, I presume.”

  The woman’s smile was genuine, but Zoe didn’t miss the clear assessment in her eyes.

  “Yes, welcome to Blackwood Corporation. Well, at this temporary Chicago location at least. Please follow me.”

  As she suspected, even behind those doors, everything looked as if it was a Chicago-based company and not a temporary relocation from London. Ms. Harrington steered Zoe into a spacious office with white walls, wide windows, and interesting modern art on the walls. Blackwood appeared to want all the luxury, even if it was only a temporary office.

  “Please take a seat.”

  Zoe sat as Archer Blackwood’s executive assistant rounded her desk and typed a few words on her computer. “You’ve been highly recommended by your superior at the US Department of State. Why did you request a sabbatical?”

  Zoe was glad to have prepared this background story with Gabrielle. “Working for the Department of State required me to travel extensively as an interpreter, to dangerous locations. My last assignment had been more difficult than expected and I needed a break. However, I have bills to pay, so I can’t take a simple vacation. With the consent of my supervisor and his superior, they granted me extended leave. I decided to dip a toe back into the corporate world.”

  Ms. Harrington nodded and typed a few notes before turning back to her again. “You have an impressive list of languages you can interpret. I found it quite unusual for someone so young.”

  Zoe maintained her smile. “I’m well in my thirties, Ms. Harrington.”

  “Even so. And many languages on the lists are not common. How did you learn all of them?”

  Tricky, Zoe thought, and that was one question she needed to tread carefully with. “From an early age I had talent with languages, and after college I was recruited immediately by the Department of State. It’s where I completed my training.”

  She seemed to like her answer. “Good. It’s rare to find somebody able to translate those languages. Not that you will be required to, but Mr. Blackwood had requested someone who would know them.”

  Zoe nodded. “I have to admit that I find myself wondering why so many were necessary for this position.”

  Ms. Harrington seemed to hesitate before answering, confirming to Zoe that there was much more happening than met the eyes. “Mr. Blackwood is about to sell part of his empire. That much I can tell you as it has been published in the press. And being very thorough, he researched the various backgrounds of each buyer and the languages they speak. Mr. Blackwood can manage several of them but wants to make sure that he doesn’t miss any information due to his lack of understanding when he meets and negotiates with them.”

  “Very understandable.”

  “If we hire you, you will need to sign a very detailed contract, as well as a non-disclosure agreement. Mr. Blackwood would require your services for the extent of the contract, any time, day or night.”

  Zoe blinked at the words. “Any time, day or night?”

  “Mr. Blackwood doesn’t have a regular schedule and works at various hours. Have you relocated to Chicago yet?”

  “Yes, I’ve rented an apartment on the North Side. Even if I don’t get this position, I have every intention of working in Chicago.”

  “Good. Also, Mr. Blackwood requires each of his employees to be discreet and professional at all times, and that includes sexual advances.”

  For a moment, Zoe thought her ears had imagined the words. “Pardon me?”?

  Now, the executive assistant’s glance turned to pure steel. “We’ve had problems with employees, female employees, who used their position to try and seduce Mr. Blackwood. I prefer to tell you right away that whatever you try, not only will you be fired, but you’ll probably be prosecuted for harassment if you do.”

  Zoe tried not to gape at what Ms. Harrington was saying, but her mind was whirling like crazy. What kind of man wouldn’t take advantage of his position to do exactly that, especially as the women were more than willing?

  “I intend to resume my work with the Department of State, and that means going back to Washington with a clear record. I’m not searching for a fling, a lover, a boyfriend nor a husband, Ms. Harrington. You want me to sign a paper specifying that I won’t attempt in any way to have sex with Mr. Blackwood, I’ll sign it.”

  “I’m happy to hear it, Ms. Somersby.”

  That voice. Zoe wasn’t prepared for it when it came from behind her. Deep, warm, and strangely detached at the same time, announcing some major trouble. Back stiff from the surprise, Zoe turned around to look at Archer Blackwood. She had seen his picture, but it didn’t prepare her for seeing him in the flesh. A punch in the gut. It was exactly how it felt as he stood there looking at her with frosty silver eyes. His almost black hair slicked back, with his strong jaw and full mouth, he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but the energy he gave off was one of a snowstorm in the Arctic, as if you dared to touch him, you would lose your hand. His attitude strengthened her will.

  “I always prefer paperwork, Mr. Blackwood. Coming from a government agency, it’s in my DNA.”

  A slight dip of his head seemed to be the confirmation of his acknowledgment, and maybe an approval, but Zoe was far from sure about that. And without another word, he turned and left.

  As she turned back to her interviewer, Zoe noticed that Ms. Harrington didn’t seem to mind her tone. She was typing away on her computer and her printer whirled.

  “You’ll have to fill out some forms and we’ll do a thorough background check. But I suppose that it’s nothing considering your previous employment. I will also need your personal bank information.”

  Zoe blinked. “And after I fill out all this, when am I supposed to receive an answer whether I got the job or not? And the language and translation tests?”

  Ms. Harrington piled papers in front of her and dropped a pen on top of it. “You just did get the job. And as for the tests, they will happen every single day you work for Mr. Blackwood.”

  Chapter 2

  The next hour was like sitting on a merry-go-round of information without being able to stop. Zoe was shown her new office, with windows, just beside Ms. Harrington. No, Ellen. That was how she’d asked to be called as they would work closely together from now on. And Zoe suspected that being so close to the big boss was quite a lonely place and Ellen was happy to have another mountain climber by her side.

  State-of-the-art equipment was already installed on her desk, with a brand-new company cell phone. An entire side of the wall was filled with reference books, some rare, others still in their protective packaging. Zoe dropped her bag under the desk and eyed the files neatly stacked beside her computer screen. Ellen told her that she would be back in a second to show her how the computer system worked and give her the necessary username and password.

  Crossing her arms, she looked at the Chicago skyline, admiring the angry swirling clouds and the mist snaking above the horizon over Lake Michigan. She never thought being hired would go so fast. Not that she was undermining her own talents, but it was quick nonetheless. Did all the hiring get done the same way? With a simple nod from Archer Blackwood?

  From what she had experienced in her first hour in the company, getting close to the frosty man would be her ultimate challenge. At least she would be in the inner sanctum. A very slim advantage.

  “Already slacking on the job, Ms. Somersby?”

  Zoe whirled around at the deep voice, one hand on her heart. “Mr. Blackwood. Ar
e you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  The man stood on the threshold of her office, not looking very pleased. “I don’t pay you to admire the landscape.”

  If he wanted to play the hard-assed boss, she was game to give it back too. “I’m waiting for Ellen to give me my access codes for your system. If you know them, please tell me. I’m kind of stuck for the time being, unless you need something interpreted. In that case, I’m at your disposal.”

  The tick was almost imperceptible, but his jaw clenched a fraction of a second. “As a matter of fact, I could use you right now.”

  And like that, he was gone. What was she supposed to do, run after him? Well, not in these shoes, she wouldn’t. Zoe went to the hallway and caught him turning the corner before he disappeared from view. Zoe’s hands turned into fists. Not yet an hour into the position, and she was starting to fantasize about strangling him. Damn the suit or the sexy accent, he needed basic manners, stat.

  Zoe followed the corridor and passed a few people, to whom she offered a smile. Unfortunately, as she hadn’t been introduced, and was chasing after her new boss, she kept going.

  Reaching the end of a corridor, there was an open door. Taking a chance, she peeked inside. It was a large conference room, taking the entire corner of the building. The windows had some sort of gray tint in them, probably to block the sunlight. And her boss was there, fiddling with a computer screen encased in the table. A projector flashed from behind her and a blurry image came into view over one of the windows. Blackwood pressed a button and the glass turned opaque, like a wall, and the image cleared.

  Blackwood turned to her. “I need to know what is said on this tape. It’s during a negotiation that took place two days ago.”

  Zoe arched an eyebrow, refraining from reminding him of the ethical implications of what he was asking. Her mission wasn’t to contradict him, but to stay alert for any possible threats or a threat from Finch. And ultimately not killing Blackwood herself from sheer irritation.

  On the screen, she saw Blackwood and three other men. They were speaking in English, some sort of lawyer’s lingo. After a minute or so, Ellen came into view and whispered something in Blackwood’s ear, who excused himself and left.

  The three other men, all in designer suits remained silent for a moment. One took a sip of water, another scribbled something on a piece of paper and pushed it to the man on his left who read it and laughed. Then there was a quick exchange in a tribal dialect between the three men who laughed before Blackwood returned. The initial meeting was resumed.

  Blackwood stopped the video and his icy stare was on her. The man was so arrogant, and severely lacked manners. “I suppose you want to know what they said?”

  “I didn’t hire you for anything else.”

  Clenching her teeth for a second, Zoe did as he asked. “They made fun of you, called you names and that’s it.”

  Blackwood crossed his arms and he seemed to expand before her, annoyance pulsing from him. “I didn’t request a summary, Ms. Somersby, but an exact translation.”

  It took all her might not to roll her eyes. “I was trying to be polite, but if you want it rough, it’s your call. The first one said that you looked like a rich chicken. And the other one said that he was more than ready to pluck you out of your money and your arrogance before roasting your ass for supper.”

  The translation amused her, but the deadly glint in Blackwood’s eyes told her he was far from having a sense of humor. He typed once more on the keyboard and another video came up. On the screen she recognized two of the men from before, but it was in a different conference room. A man stood by the door, probably a bodyguard. They spoke very low and the recording wasn’t very clear.

  Frowning, Zoe came closer to the console, near Blackwood, and for the first time, she smelled his cologne, or was it? The scent was subtle, masculine, but very faint. It reminded her of damp moss and leather, maybe his body wash. And the undertone was most probably the very smell of his warm skin, enough to get make other females weak at the knees. But not Zoe Somersby. Locking her knees, she used her most professional voice. “Where are the speakers? I can’t hear the voices.”

  Instead of answering, he reached under a panel for a headset and handed it to her. The wire wasn’t long enough and forced her to brush his arm. Any normal female, including herself, would have taken the opportunity to lean in and probably test how hard his body felt underneath that suit. But again, she wasn’t one of those brainless bimbos, never had been for that matter, and more importantly, she was on a mission to save this man’s life, not get into his pants.

  “Can you please move, sir?” Zoe cheered internally at her clear and steady voice. But it was even harder to keep her professional layer when he turned his head and stared at her with his gray eyes. That man was lust, wrapped up in sin and powdered sugar, and she acknowledged immediately why he required a paper to keep the females at bay. Zoe wasn’t indifferent to this kind of alpha male, far from it, but she knew too well that his species was inevitably attracted to Barbie dolls, such as the doe-eyed receptionist. All boobs, no brains and a figure like a sports car. Not undermining her own figure and curves, Zoe was clairvoyant enough to know that their types didn’t mix, dousing any possible temptation she might have.

  After a moment, Blackwood stepped aside, and she checked the console. It looked like something used at the State Department. Adjusting the sound, she looked back at the screen and started the sequence again. It took three times for Zoe to finally get all the words. It was the same Middle-Eastern dialect as before, but with a strong underlying accent. Something was off. She was about to roll it a fourth time when Blackwood caught her wrist.

  “What are you doing?”

  The contact was so electric, Zoe jerked out of his arms. Unfazed, he towered over her, a reproachful frown on his face. “If you don’t know what was said, no need to...”

  “Stop that!” She removed her headset and put it on the conference table. “I don’t need your patronizing tone.”

  Blackwood took another step in her direction, but Zoe forced herself to stay put. “How dare you!”

  “I know what was said, but if you’re not interested in knowing it or actually using my brain and experience, you can shove that tape up your ass and find yourself another interpreter.”

  As the words flew out of her mouth, Zoe was tempted to wince and slap herself in the back of her head. What good would she do if she was fired in the second hour of her employment? Part of her didn’t want to take any bullshit from him, another part knew that she may have to make concessions to achieve her mission, even if it meant scratching her pride and suffering his condescending tone.

  “You hesitated.” His tone was warm as sleet.

  “Not because I didn’t understand the words.”

  Now he crossed his arms, and Zoe thought she heard the seams screech against his bulging arms.

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “The accent. The words they say, they aren’t saying anything of great interest. They speak about how they despise the weather. The dialect is Gulf Arabic, same as in the previous video, but there’s a strange accent now. As if alcohol or fatigue had made them less careful. The overall grammar and pronunciation are perfect, but there is a... drawl... for lack of a better word, that shouldn’t be there. And that wasn’t noticeable in the first video.”

  Blackwood turned to the screen and looked at the freeze frame before turning back to her. The annoyance was gone, replaced by interest and calculation. “What’s your take on that drawl?”

  An actual question in a polite tone? Zoe was tempted to whistle, impressed. “Difficult to say. I think it may be caused by speaking in one language and thinking in another. When you’re tired or inebriated, there is a risk of slipping. However, if they are Muslims, alcohol may not be the reason.”

  “So, you’re saying that Arabic is not their first language?”

  “Possibly. On the other hand, I’m only posing a hypoth
esis.”

  For a long moment he looked at her before nodding and taking out his phone. “Thank you, Ms. Somersby.” And he was gone.

  Zoe let out a long sigh. What was all that about? She would need to tell Gabrielle about it. And find a way to prevent him from making her head spin.

  Chapter 3

  When Zoe dragged her tired butt out of the cabin front of her small apartment building, there were parts of her that simply wanted to weep. Her feet particularly.

  At first, after the meeting in the conference room, she found her way back to her office and just as Ellen was about to start giving her instructions, she was called away. And when she returned, it was Zoe’s turn to be summoned by Blackwood about translating another innocuous conversation. All freaking day long, she had walked up and down that damn office, to confirm a translation or check a recording. In the end, she was tempted to take her stuff into the conference room and stay there. At least she would have been more efficient. When she’d proposed it, the bastard told her that he wouldn’t need her in the afternoon, so there’s no need to move there. Just as Ellen had brought her something to eat, bless her heart, he’d called her back there again! At that moment, she prayed for patience, or a gun.

  After the afternoon scramble came the evening flood. She had to read reports written in two different Arabic dialects, one in Russian, two in French, and give a summary. Her brain was close to boiling inside her skull, and she didn’t know if she could verbalize a coherent sentence in any of the universe’s known languages.

  Taking a quick look at her phone, it was a little past ten. Just as she was standing in front of her apartment’s staircase, asking herself if she should just crawl up the stairs, the side door of the first-floor apartment burst open.

  Zoe forced herself to smile at her neighbor, Ms. Lupe, a sweet but hard-headed Hispanic widow whom she’d barely had the time to chat with since she arrived two days ago. Not that the woman wasn’t talking to her, but her exuberant roommate, Marcus, took all the space when he was around.