Page 5

Arielle

“The nerve of that bastard.” I seethe, pacing back and forth while Vivian sat on the bed, watching me with a mix of concern and amusement.

“Do you know what he said?” I whirled around, mimicking Mikhail’s poise and voice. “Kids are the only innocent members of the society, and I don’t think they deserve to suffer because someone decided to bring them into the world without preparing for them.”

I remembered it word for word. Every detail of his dishonest claim was burned into my memory. It took every restraint in me to maintain a calm facade while he spewed about his love and concern for kids.

“You didn’t expect him to magically tell you about his dealings after one night, did you?” Viv laughed, giving me an incredulous look.

“I obviously did not. I just wished I could’ve forced him to eat his words and tell everyone the charity was fake and he was only using it to cover for his true nature.”

“That’s a smart move when you think about it,” Vivian mused. “Abduct and traffic children behind the scenes while publicly sponsoring and donating to their welfare. No one would suspect a child philanthropist to be a child trafficker.”

“I just wish I could’ve done something at the moment.”

When I walked into the fundraiser, I originally thought it was merely an auction, and my only aim was to get an autographed work of Xavier’s. As a kid who grew up in an orphanage, seeing the digital banner about child welfare really warmed my heart, and I ended up donating to the cause. The orphanage and social service was a shitty place, and the only time we had a moderately nice week was after donations and fundraisers.

Even though a huge chunk of the money obviously went into the pockets of the management, for that period, we were fed better, treated better, and got a few clothes until the eyes of the sponsors were turned from us and everything returned to normal. Regardless of how short lived our joy might’ve been, we always looked forward to these donations and fundraisers.

It made me develop a deep feeling of gratitude to philanthropists. Knowing that someone who knew nothing about me would shell out their hard-earned money to support me while my parents did the great job of birthing me and dumping me on the roadside when I was a whopping two months old always brought me to tears. I spent some of the nights after these donations wondering why strangers could help me, but my own parents couldn’t love me enough to keep me.

Other nights, after some of the kids were adopted and I returned to my lumpy bed alone, I wondered why no one wanted to keep me. Was I unlovable? Then, one day, a grey-haired man with a crooked nose arrived at the orphanage, and he insisted on leaving with me from the moment his eyes met mine. Father saved me, and I promised to give all I could to the system that raised me, knowing how difficult life was there. It’s where most of my earnings went to date.

Watching Mikhail stand there as the model figure of a child philanthropist triggered an emotion I didn’t know I possessed. A cocktail of hate, anger, and helplessness burned down my throat, leaving a bitter feeling in my mouth. After my shock wore off from the host coming to tell him people wanted to thank him, it took all I had to not run after her and tell her he should be jailed and kept very far from children and not thanked.

Fucking hypocrite.

“You’ll get him, Ari. You’re very good at your job. Besides, there’s nothing you could’ve done at the event. We both know how obnoxious rich folks can be, and he won’t be the only guilty person there. They’d call you mad.” Vivian reasoned, pulling me into a warm hug.

“I finally understand why Father hates him so much and wants to bring him down as soon as possible. Every day he spends outside, a child is at risk.” I mused as Vivian held me.

I had often wondered why Father was very particular about bringing Mikhail down in record time, and now I understand. Mikhail stood against everything Father believed. While father adopted and sheltered kids, Mikhail abducted and sold them to fatten his pocket.

“Have you reported the event to him?” Vivian asked, releasing me from her hold.

“Yes. He maintained that the progress was slow and wouldn’t listen to reason. Mikhail is very smart and strategic. One mistake, and we’re done for. I’m ready to give all it takes to make sure this goes well, but Father has other plans.”

“What did he say?”

“He’ll get me a job in the same building as Mikhail’s to increase our chances of running into each other. After last night, this has become very personal to me, and I need it to work seamlessly.” I said, collapsing into my bed.

“It’s not a very bad idea. It’s different from what we had in mind, but it’s not bad. You can be around him without seeming like you’re there for him. When will you start work?” Vivian asked.

“Fucking Monday,” I groaned, pressing my face into my pillow.

She gasped, “Woah. Father works fast.”

“Yup, and he expects results immediately.”

“You’ll get it done. You’ve never failed at a project,” She said with a small smile.

*****

“Good morning. I’m here for Mr. Vanderbilt,” I said to the receptionist while she tapped furiously at her keyboard.

“Is he expecting you?” She asked, not taking her eyes off her monitor.

“Yes.”

I stood there for a solid minute before her fingers slowed to a stop on the keyboard, and she turned her attention to me, her false lashes fluttering as she looked me up and down. I was sure beneath all that makeup and enhancement, she was my age, maybe even younger, but the way she looked at me, you’d think she was my aunt.

“What did you say the purpose of your meeting was?”

“I didn’t say,” I replied, holding her gaze. I knew her type, and I knew just how to deal with them. “Please tell Mr. Vanderbilt Arielle is here. He’ll be very upset if he finds out you kept me waiting.”

She held my gaze for a beat before reluctantly tearing her eyes from me and reaching for the telephone on her desk.

My chest hammered as I waited for her to alert Mr. Vanderbilt, my new boss, of my arrival.

I halfway thought Father was bluffing when he said he’d get me a job in Mikhail’s building on Monday, but he wasn’t.

My phone rang at five a.m., and he gave me the details of my new work and asked me to report to the office by nine a.m. I threw on a pair of white dress pants, a navy shirt, and my favorite pair of Kate’s and made my way to Ivanov Corp., a towering glass structure at the heart of Midtown.

“The elevator to your right, fifteenth floor,” She hissed.

“Thank you,” I chimed, adding extra sway to my hips as I made my way to the elevator. The elevator door opened to a wide, long corridor with multiple doors on each side. Stupid bitch didn’t tell me which one was his.

“Arielle?” A sweet-looking redhead approached me, giving me a warm smile. Definitely an improvement from sour-faced Sylvia downstairs.

“Yes, I am. I’m here for—”

“Mr. Vanderbilt. He’s expecting you. This way.” She ordered softly, leading me to the door at the end of the hallway.

We walked into what looked like a conference room with a long table in the middle and multiple chairs flanking each side. At the head of the table, two men appeared to be engaged in a heated conversation.

“Arielle!” The older-looking member of the duo called out, waving me over to him.

“Good morning, Sir,” I greeted as I approached him.

“Do away with the formalities, will you? Your father is a very good friend of mine.” He smiled, taking my outstretched hand.

“Chloe here will show you to your office. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask me,” He said, and I blinked at him in surprise.

That was it? No interview, no questions, he didn’t even tell me what my job was.

“Is there something you’d like to add?”

“Not at all.” I smiled, bidding my farewell and following Chloe to a spacious white room with a desk, refrigerator, and TV.

“This is yours. Any job the boss has for you will pop up on your computer,” she said, moving aside for me to get a better look at the room.

“It’s a great space,” I said, looking through the wide window overlooking the busy streets of New York. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled, shutting the door behind her.

Two hours had passed, and I rebooted my desktop for the hundredth time, and still no message. Was the plan for me to spend all day cooped up in here doing nothing? My phone buzzed, and I practically rushed to the device, releasing a sigh of relief when I saw it was a message from James, our cyber guy. Father had instructed him to find Mikhail’s daily schedule for me.

“His lunch starts at 2 pm and ends by 4 pm. Also, he uses the private elevator at the far left of the building. His plate number is ABC-435, Good luck.”

I glanced at my watch, and it was exactly 1:55 p.m. Duty calls. I pulled out the pocket mirror I always kept in my bag and fixed my look, adding an extra touch of gloss and mascara, and proceeded to the reception. It was a lot more crowded than it was when I came in. I held my head high and walked to the exit, only stopping to send a sickeningly sweet smile to the receptionist who glared at me. I had no idea where I was going. If I didn’t see him in the lobby, I might check out every restaurant on the street till I found the one he was in. Tasking but worth it.

“Arielle?” A cold baritone reached my ears before the owner stepped into my line of vision. I had to force back the residual wave of anger that coursed through me the moment I saw him, flashing him a polite smile in its place.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, surprise evident in his tone.

“Good afternoon to you too, Mikhail. I do this thing called work, and it requires me present from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Ever heard of that?”

He released a light chuckle, and it was the smoothest sound I’ve ever heard. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Totally,” I replied with a small smile, finally taking him in.

A charcoal black suit that framed his shoulders so well, emphasizing the cut of his deltoid and upper body. I blinked back the image of his shoulders hovering over me that fateful night and focused on the task at hand. How was it possible to be disgusted by a person and not their dick?

“Join me for lunch.” His tone was flat and direct, he wasn’t asking, he was telling me to join him for lunch.

I could slowly understand how he rose to a great height of power. He didn’t ask. He said what he wanted, took what he wanted, and didn’t leave room for opinions and disagreements.

“Why?” I blurted out, causing that annoying smirk to appear on his face again.

“Because it’s lunchtime, and we’re both going for lunch.” It was a logical reason, and I was about to agree with him before he added, “And because I asked you to.”

We were caught in a momentary stare-down with him still wearing his signature smirk. I wish I could smack it off his face, but I was a girl with a mission. “Lead the way,” I chirped cheerily.

With how fake and sweet I’ve been acting all morning, I won’t be surprised if I develop diabetes on the spot. A Lincoln town car pulled up in front of us, bearing the plate numbers James sent to me. Mikhail held the door open for me and climbed in after me.

“Will you tell me where you work?” Mikhail asked as the car joined Manhattan’s traffic.

“Why? You want to start sending me lunch,” I teased with a playful smile.

One of these days, when all of this is over, I’ll go and demand my Oscar awards. I deserve one for my remarkable acting skills.

“Making long-term commitments?” He teased. It was almost unnatural how fast he switched from ice cold to flirty.

Seems you’re not the only good actor, then , the voice in my head chimed.

“I don’t mix business with pleasure, and I think I’m loving the suspense of not knowing where I’d run into you,” I replied with a playful wink, and he let out that chuckle that had my stomach flipping. We arrived at a cozy restaurant about twenty minutes away from the office and settled into our seats.

I had expected Mikhail to take me somewhere high-end, luxurious, and shiny, but this was different. This was better and incredibly comfy. As if he read my mind, he said, “They have the best pot pie and chocolate milkshake in the whole of New York,” and laughter spilled from my lips.

“Seriously, milkshakes and pot pie?” I asked in disbelief. Whatever happened to steak and caviar? Those were the food for the rich.

“Don’t mock it till you’ve had it,” he said, waving the waiter over.

“I’ll have coffee, straight black, and the lady will have your chicken pot pie and chocolate milkshake with extra chocolate fudge.” He ordered without glancing at the menu.

“Do you always make orders for the women you go out with?”

“Only when they question my expertise. You can always get something else if you don’t like it, but I doubt that’ll be necessary,” he answered.

“I agree. I don’t give anything the chance to disappoint me twice.”

“Was that why you left my house at the crack of dawn?” he asked, the stupid smirk returning to his lips.

“What can I say? The thought of fake moans and orgasms was not appealing to me,” I replied, faking a yawn and playing along.

We both fell into a laughing fit, a knowing look passing between us. We both knew nothing about that night was fake.

“I’m a grown woman, Mikhail, and I understand the nuances of a one-night stand. I wasn’t going to stick around and wait for you to show me out,” I said when our laughter finally subsided.

His only reply was a raised brow. Our orders arrived, and we spent the rest of our time talking about everything from the weather to the upcoming election. The pie turned out to be surprisingly wonderful. It had the perfect dough-to-filling ratio and the right amount of crust. I had totally forgotten about my initial stance and moaned into my first bite, earning me a smoldering look from Mikhail.

The milkshake was equally heavenly. I found myself discreetly saving their contact info for next time. Mikhail’s ego didn’t need any more inflating.

“On a scale of 0-10, how would you rate the combination?” Mikhail asked as we made our way to his car.

“Definitely a 4. And I’m only giving that because I’m very empathetic.” I answered with a straight face.

“Was that why you stole their contact information?” Another wave of laughter rolled off me. Of course, he saw me. The man didn’t look like anything passed him by. I made a mental note to never text Vivian or Father whenever I was with him.

“You can’t deny you had a great time,” he said, an evil smile playing on his lips.

“I wouldn’t go that far if I were you, but it was better than our first meeting.”

He stopped in his tracks, watching me intently. “Friday night, eight p.m. Be at The Rave. I’ll have the security direct you to my private wing.”

“Why?”

“I won’t have you walking around with the wrong impression about my club.”

“Are you trying to sway my mind, Mr. Ivanov?” I asked with a teasing smile.

His answer was brief and straight to the point. “Yes.”

Something about the way he said it didn’t feel like we were still talking about the club, so I slammed my mouth shut and got in the car.