The Secrets of Their Souls

by Brooke Sivendra

  “There is no way I can take leave right now. Jayce Tohmatsu has started and Church Street is in full throttle… I’m lucky to even be at lunch right now.”

  Maya clasped her hands together. “Yes, that’s right—what’s he like?”

  “He’s everything he should not be and he’s nothing like I expected,” Zahra said, shaking the image of him out of her head.

  “That’s what you get for stereotyping people, Zahra.”

  “Yes, yes, Jemma has already reprimanded me for my judgmental behavior, so you can lay off. Anyway, enough about me, what is happening with you?”

  She listened on, fascinated. Their lives were changing, Zahra realized, each one of her friends ready to settle down, thinking about marriage and children—two things that were not high on her list. Her career had always been number one and she’d made many sacrifices for it. She’d watched her parents work extremely hard to give their daughters the best education they could afford and she felt some sense of responsibility to honor that by being successful. But it was more than just that; it was an inner guide, a drive that was relentless, a need to do something impactful in this world and she couldn’t imagine living her life any other way. She wasn’t sure if this would eventually destroy some friendships, not intentionally, but humans do tend to gravitate toward those that they have things in common with. Could two friends with completely different lifestyles and priorities remain close? She wasn’t sure, but she knew that wanting to know what cannot be known was a painful experience. She knew this because she found herself doing it constantly, always asking questions and never having the answers. One day she was going to drive herself crazy if she didn’t learn just to let things be.

  The waitress brought out their meals and Zahra devoured her pasta.

  “Hungry?” Maya laughed, only half way through eating the same dish.

  “Mm, I think I’m going to order something else,” she said, browsing the menu.

  “Jesus, are you pregnant?”

  Zahra put the menu down, rolling her eyes. “Yes, the postman knocked me up. Actually, I’ve been running a lot, trying to get fit…” Another lie. And with each lie it got a little easier, it ate at her a little less. I’m going to turn into a compulsive liar, Zahra realized.

  “Oh, the pregnancy thing would have been so much more fun! I hate running, don’t you get bored?”

  Zahra wished that she did get bored but she was too busy kicking her dreams out of her mind for idleness to set in. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “I like it, I turn up the music and forget all about the world. It’s like moving meditation.”

  “Yeah, I like to sit on my ass while I meditate.” Maya ate her penne piece by piece. She might have looked like a hipster, but she ate like a princess.

  Zahra giggled. She called over the waitress, ordered a smoothie and then watched on with food envy as Maya finished her meal. “I’m going to visit Eddie this afternoon. Have you seen him recently?”

  “Yes! Oh, I love that guy. I meant to tell you, he’s designed these insane beds for a new project. Ask him to show you when you go in. They are peacock green velvet and they are magnificent.”

  “I will. In fact,” Zahra said, her eyes on the time, “I should get this smoothie to go and head off or I’m going to be late. I’m stopping off at Doyle’s and then at Eddie’s. I’ll tell him you say hi.”

  Zahra and Maya said their goodbyes, promising to catch up as soon as Maya returned from Morocco. Zahra knew that it wouldn’t happen that way, since their promises were always delayed a few weeks at least, but eventually they always found the time to get together.

  *

  Kicking off her heels, Zahra dumped her bag and folders on the hallway console and padded into her kitchen in search of a cool drink to ease her parched throat. She had walked miles today, in stilettos, in the warm summer heat. Tomorrow she would wear flats, one of the few pairs that she owned.

  When the day’s loose ends were tied up, her team checked in with, and her emails replied to, she sat down on the couch and flicked through the channels for something remotely interesting to watch. After three rounds and not a single show that was able to capture her attention, Zahra resorted to some Internet shopping instead. She needed a new bathing suit for her upcoming trip to Puerto Rico and she needed a few new dresses for work. She browsed two of her favorite stores, selected the items, hit checkout and when that was done it was still only 9:30 p.m. Jemma was right; she did need to get a life.

  Fearing the nightmares that accompanied her sleep, Zahra made a concerted effort to delay her bedtime until nearly midnight, which gave her a few more hours to kill. She went back to her favorite room of the house, the kitchen, and made her lunch for tomorrow and wasted time by de-cluttering a few drawers and giving her blender a solid clean. The problem with performing such basic tasks was that it gave the mind a chance to roam. She found herself thinking of Jayce. He would no doubt still be at work, sitting on the top floor of Castle de Mason. She doubted he ever left before midnight and she suspected that he was in not long after sunrise. He was young to be in that position, and the pressure on him was mountainous. He doesn’t seem like a guy who would lose his cool easily though, Zahra thought.

  When there wasn’t another item to clean, or another drawer to sift through, Zahra went back to her computer, seeking solace in her work. She might not have a life but she had a damn good career that she loved.

  *

  Queen Keres sat on her golden throne above the thousands of people lining the streets. Some were hungry for a show and others cast down their eyes, but they were all in attendance. Fear had a special way of making people follow orders, and Keres was the Queen of Fear.

  I stood on the edge of the stage in my gown. Every assassin had a different color: mine was red. Blood red. Well suited, given my love for the thick, oozing liquid. The first time I had tasted blood it had been that of my father. He had deserved it and more, and I was glad that he was dead. I was also glad that it had been my hand that had delivered it to him.

  “Today, you shall all see what happens when you defy me and the laws of this Kingdom.” All eyes lifted to obey the queen. “Today, you will see the punishment for stealing from the Capital.”

  He stumbled onto the stage, his feet bloody and swollen from the shackles. Shackles I had fastened extra tight so that they rubbed his skin raw. The guard kicked him from behind and he fell to his knees, begging like a little boy. There was no mercy in this world and no forgiveness, but there were laws and there were punishments; it was a simple system that this idiot had thought he could beat. I looked at him and smiled. Stealing money from the Capital was a grave error and one that Sticky-Finger Peter would pay for at my hand.

  I walked to the center of the stage and ordered the guards to lay him on his back. A stone bench had been prepared for the performance. It was gray now but not for long. Queen Keres nodded her head and her eyes danced with joy.

  I pulled my knife from the halter strapped to my thigh. Even in his final moments, the pitiful man was tempted by a woman’s body, and his droopy eyes widened at the sight of my flesh. His flesh turned me on too but never in a way that this man could imagine. I placed the tip of the knife on his head and his scream roared through the crowd as I ran it down his forehead, slicing his face in two. Chills spread over my body like warm honey.

  I felt like a god.

  *

  The next few days passed in a flurry of work, the dreams always hovering over Zahra’s head like a leering phantom. Now sitting in her office, Zahra’s eyes were once again glued to her computer screen when she heard the harsh tone of her office phone. Looking up sharply, she saw the number flashing on the caller ID panel: 11057. She didn’t recognize the extension but the fact that it started with a one indicated the call was coming from the top floor.

  “Zahra Foster.”

  “Good morning, Zahra.”

  “Good morning, Jayce. How can I help you?” She inhaled silently and held her breath un
til he answered.

  “I would like to see you in my office. Now, please.” Another command so politely dressed up in disguise.

  “Of course. I will be along in a few minutes. Do I need to bring anything?”

  “No. Just yourself.”

  She wore a slight grin on her lips. If she were being honest, two days out of the office felt like much longer than that and her mind was splintering. Part of her wanted to know him, every intimate detail, and the other part, with no logical reasoning, told her any sort of feelings for her boss was a very bad idea.

  “Please go straight through, Miss Foster, he’s expecting you.” Jayce’s assistant, Olivia, had blond locks to rival Holly’s and a marshmallow complexion Asians dream of.

  Zahra’s eyes set upon him as she opened the heavy, black-paneled door. He was sitting at a large desk, his eyes attentively focused on the monitor to his right. He had taken off his jacket and his cuffs were rolled up, exposing his lean, muscular forearms.

  “Take a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair opposite him. She forced her gaze from his arms to his eyes as she pulled her shoulders back and walked to his desk. She sat down, deliberately looking past him now to the skyscraper backdrop, buying herself a few precious seconds to collect her thoughts. They shared the same view, she realized. Granted, he had the full panoramic version of her smaller corner window, but it was certainly the same view.

  “How were your few days off-site?”

  “They were productive.”

  His gaze followed her hands as she scooped her long locks to one side, collecting them over her shoulder—a nervous habit. Zahra quickly placed her hands back in her lap, forcing his eyes back to hers. “So, I have good news for you… I have decided to approve your insane expense account for Church Street.”

  Exhilaration bubbled up in Zahra’s chest like a soda stream ready to explode. She had asked for everything she could possibly have dreamed of, expecting to negotiate down, and instead he had just given her the near equivalent of unlimited funds for this project. She smiled in wonder.

  He nodded his head ever so slightly. “You should smile like that more often.”

  “Thank you, for the expense account, that is,” she said, still beaming like a small child on Christmas morning.

  “You’re welcome. By the way, this will be the first project to come to completion under my management so I would prefer it if we didn’t fuck it up, yeah?”

  “Well, you know what they say: when you back a winner, you go all the way,” she retorted, watching as his chest rumbled with laughter.

  “Who says that?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure, but it’s true,” she said all knowingly as she uncrossed her legs and prepared to stand.

  “So, you and Jemma—you’re very close, right?”

  She had assumed their conversation was over but apparently they were just getting started. Zahra sat back down in her chair, again looking past him to the skyline.

  “Yes, we are, but I don’t see how that’s professionally relevant.” She took a deep breath, relieved the navy blue shift dress she had chosen this morning concealed her tight, heavy chest.

  “It’s not, I’m just interested in getting to know you better.” He picked up a pen and twirled it in his fingers without breaking eye contact.

  “Is that so?” she asked. The energy shift in the room was palpable.

  “It is. My report tells me you’re not yet thirty but you’re already at the top of your field. That’s impressive.”

  “Gossip tells me you’re just thirty, and obviously you’re vice president of Mason Corp. That’s impressive.”

  “That depends on how you look at it,” he said, tilting his head. “I had a head start. My father prided himself on raising a hard-working child and I’ve worked at Tohmatsu since I was five years old. Every day after school I went to work for three hours—cleaning floors, photocopying… basically anything a five-year-old is capable of doing. As I got older, the hours increased, as did the responsibility. I’ve been primed for this role my entire life.”

  Wait until Jemma hears this, Zahra thought. She had been way too quick to judge him and now she would have to eat her words. “Your father must be very proud,” she said.

  Jayce chuckled. “Most days, but I still manage to displease him on occasion.” He clicked the end of the pen in. “So that’s my story. How did you become so successful?”

  “Well, I started later than you but much the same way, I suppose: hard work, long hours, sacrifice.”

  “What have you sacrificed?” He asked the question without mocking.

  “Relationships, a social life… but I love what I do so I suppose it doesn’t feel so much like sacrifice but rather a choice between certain things in life.”

  “Interesting,” he said. “And based on that statement I’m assuming you don’t have a boyfriend, then?”

  “No. Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked without skipping a beat. It was an inappropriate question to ask her new boss, but if he was going to ask such questions she was going to throw them back at him. She wove her fingers together and rested them on her knees and he smiled at her retaliation.

  “No. We seem to share the same problem. Success does come at a cost, and most women don’t want a boyfriend that they never see.”

  Zahra raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

  “You don’t agree?” He had a mischievous gleam in his eyes and he seemed to be enjoying the digression of their conversation.

  “I think there are plenty of women dreaming about marrying a young billionaire and having nothing to do all day but shop and look pretty.”

  It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. “Actually, my father is the billionaire, I’m not—I’m paid a monthly salary based on company performance. But, I suppose the rest of your assumption is true. Unfortunately, for me, I like my women a little more… challenging—” Jayce was cut off by the voice of his assistant advising his next meeting had arrived. “Ask them to take a seat, I’ll be done in a minute,” he said, releasing the intercom button. “Time’s up.”

  Zahra was surrounded by powerful men on a daily basis but never had a man been able to affect her the way he did. There was something different about him, something that made her heart race and sent her libido sky-rocketing. And there was something still familiar about him, too, and it wasn’t just his eyes.

  Releasing a shaky breath, Zahra stood and smoothed out her dress, noticing that he was watching her. “Is there anything else you would like to ask me today?”

  He bit his lip and shook his head. “Not today. Have a good day, Zahra.”

  CHAPTER FOUR – ZAHRA

  Wispy clouds passed above Zahra as she lay down on the checkered picnic rug with Jemma on one side and Holly on the other. She let the warm sun soothe her soul.

  Mom? Mom? Where are you? Where did you go? Help me, please, please! Don’t leave me here, I’m scared, I’m don’t know where I am, please, please don’t leave me here.

  Last’s night’s dream had stayed with her all day. She was a little girl, no more than five years old, in a blue petticoat dress, lost in an open field and surrounded by grass taller than she. She was alone; they had left her there all alone. Did no one care about the little girl? Did no one want the little girl? She couldn’t shake the emotional abandonment. She had felt her cry, weeping and pleading for someone to come for her, but no one came. Tears had been streaming from Zahra’s eyes when she awoke. As always, the dream was far too real.

  She flicked off her ballet flats and grounded her feet on the warm earth, half-heartedly listening to Holly talk beside her. She was talking with Joshua, the manager of Jemma’s finance team, who was lying on the other side of her; they were like Mason dominos lined up in Central Park, one next to the other. Their conversation hadn’t interested her much until now: they were talking about Jayce and the infamous Kelly Luca. Office gossip had already linked the two, employees spotting them together several times this week. Rumors at Mas
on Corp. should always be taken with a grain of salt, yet she had to wonder—what made her think she was the only one he flirted with? Zahra hadn’t heard from him since the ‘boyfriend’ talk in his office. Rationally, she thought it was a good thing. Irrationally, not so good. Every day since had been like walking on a tightrope, anxiously waiting to hear from him but not entirely sure if she wanted the call to come. It was exhausting.

  “Hey!” Jemma said excitedly as the rest of the party joined them, carting in the food and non-alcoholic beverages. Everyone was a Mason employee; an incestuous group that had formed as a result of sacrificing relationships and friendships in the name of success. You can have it all, just not at the same time, was the conclusion Zahra had come to.

  Observing the gathering, Zahra’s interest zoned in on Devon Wright. She didn’t know him well but she saw him most Thursday nights—the night she and Jemma ran together in the staff gym. She normally paid little attention to anyone else there, but Devon was hard to miss. His thick eyebrows and almost black eyes were just part of his intrigue and a sweep of his body told her he spent a lot more time in the gym than the one night a week she saw him. His lurking gaze was not on her, however; it was laser-focused on her sister.

  “It’s rude to stare,” Jemma said quietly, clearly wrestling with the urge to laugh.

  “I’m merely observing,” Zahra said. “How well do you know him?”

  “Not well enough,” she said and headed in Devon’s direction. Her sister had fine-tuned the skill of flirting, and well she should have, since she practiced it every weekend. Unable to hear their conversation, Zahra re-tuned into Holly’s, which had progressed from office gossip to numerology in a behemoth discourse. Holly was one of the minority who had managed to maintain a functional and supportive relationship outside of work. She was now looking to buy an apartment with her boyfriend and it was a saga that continued to amuse Zahra.