Immortal Beauty (7 page)

Sitting in a very large and well lit room there stood a man in his mid forties looking out one of the tall windows into his garden. He was transfixed it seemed on watching the irises grow. There were everywhere. They were one of his favorite flowers . The room he sat in ran the entire length of the house and was filled with antiques from many different time periods but overall the room had the feel of an eighteenth century Paris home. Here was one of those places where the past was still alive. There were no modern devices to be seen anywhere and once in a while a servant dressed all in black and white would walk through the room obviously engaged in a task of utter importance. The man paid no attention to these silent intrusions. He was lost in thought. His dark hair was graying at the temples and he had the neatest of beards, trimmed most professionally and he wore a suit of dark blue linen. He had the look of French aristocracy. Another wealthy manufacturer of a computer god who had more money than most, he was handsome and lean standing very tall at six feet two inches. If it weren’t for his sad expression on his face, he would have been the picture of perfect masculinity. Strong, silent and accomplished with a rugged profile and a lean strong body of a swimmer, he looked at that moment like an ad for expensive cologne. He wasn’t always this brooding. Today though his thoughts were full of darkness and fear. Today was the day he had decided to act. For so long now he had waited and waited and each and every time he had lost something precious. This time he was going to make the preemptive strike even though it went against his very nature. He held a crystal tumbler in his hand filled with a clear and sparkling liquid which captured the light as it came in from the garden. In this room he could hear none of the sounds of city life that were all around him. In this room he could easily pretend that it was a much simpler time and sit in front of the monstrous black marble fireplace or lay back on one of the guilt and gold covered sofas. For now he stood. He was anxiously awaiting word from Frankie and Claire, his two beloved friends. The two friends he had left who were still alive. In his heart he knew that they were alright and that they would take very good care of themselves, but until he actually heard from them he could not rest. He began to pace back and forth across a brilliant Persian rug in dark blues and bright reds. One of the maids passed through and glanced at him quickly. He was so obviously lost in thought that she continued on her way without even a smile or a nod. She did not like to see him in such a state. Though he was very secretive and closed up about his personal life, he was the model employer and never asked for too much and always made sure that his staff were well taken care of. When her mother had become ill, he not only gave her time off with pay, but insisted on paying all of the medical bills that were stacking up as each week went by. She would never leave him willingly as her loyalty to him was strong and she was happy with this knowledge. It was not everyday that one finds a job in a beautiful home such as this with it’s endless rooms each filled with beautiful things. It was like working in a museum with hushed reverent tones prevailing even in the gossip filled kitchen. It was not everyday that one finds such a kind man as an employer who paid so very well and treated everyone with dignity and respect. There was something very old world about her boss. His manner and his way of talking and the way that he liked the house to be run all reeked of a world long forgotten, it was the world of her grandparents when they talked about their childhood. Gas lights and civilized dinners and ladies in finery and all the men dashing. Every day when she came to work she had the feeling that she was leaving the twenty first century behind and was entering the past. It was a wonderful feeling and everyday when she left through the front door on the Rue Raynouard, she felt a little confused to be thrust so suddenly into the modern world. This house was one of those châteaux built in the seventeenth century by some wealthy Frenchman as his own country estate. It had been there for so long it was as much a part of Paris as the Eifel Tower was or the Louvre. Over time it had been surrounded by the apartments and buildings of a growing city, but once it was a country haven encompassed by open fields and the occupants would ride their horses leisurely with their friends and relations in the Bois de Boulogne. Those days were long gone, but when one was inside the house it seemed that those times were still very much alive and just through the next doorway.

The man finally sat in a dark brown leather chair before the fireplace and breathed heavily. He had no reason to worry. Frankie and Clair knew what they were doing and he was certain that his adversary would never expect him to make a move of any kind. This was her Achilles’ heel. She was so arrogant and so self assured it would never occur to her that he would try anything at all to stop her. All these years he had made pacts and bargains and sought for some peace between them and every time she broke her word. He simply never made the first move. She believed that she was more intelligent than him and more cunning. In this she was wrong. She believed he was weak because he was kind. This fact gave him courage. It would never cross her mind that the Marquis D’Allesandro would ever engage her in a conflict because all of these years she had harbored a false assumption that Marcus was still afraid of her. He was going to use her own assumption to catch her by surprise. He was not looking forward to the consequences to his actions but he could not let her continue with her insane plans. Her insatiable desire to conquer the world had led her to do unspeakable things. He could not even imagine how many lives she had ruined and he knew that never once did she ever think about those lives. It was always about her. Even when they were lovers so many years ago it was always about what he could bring to her and what he could do for her status and her wealth. At the end of the day it was always a matter of how he could please her and what he could do to make her happy. Not once in all their time together did she feel even the flicker of an emotion unless greed could be considered a feeling. She had let her avarice destroy any chance she would ever had of finding happiness. She would not be happy until the world was at her feet and even then Marcus knew that this was not real satisfaction. He knew very well that there was no contentment in revenge. He had learned that happiness only comes from helping others and loving others and welcoming others into your life. Happiness comes from abandoning the search for self satisfaction and personal gratification. There was nothing like going to sleep at night knowing that somehow you had helped someone out or saw someone through the more dangerous roads in life. He knew that Celine would never understand this. It was beyond her comprehension and he wondered for the hundredth time if it was because she truly was a primitive after all was said and done. The sound of his mobile interrupted his thoughts.

“Marcus here.” His low voice carried the hint of seduction. It was a smooth and pleasant voice.

“Marcus. It’s Claire.” The petite voice whispered from his phone. “I’ve got her.”

“Good. I’ll have Jean come and get you. We know the address.” He smiled calmly. “He should be there shortly…..good work!” He tried to sound supportive. He hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. One less life ruined. An innocent no less who had nothing to do with all this muddled warfare. Another life that would have been added to Celine’s list of necessary losses. If only he could find the other two, then maybe he could get some rest. He was absolutely sure that they were close to finding them. He could feel them just like the last time. They were definitely in Paris and would eventually find their way back to Rue Raynouard. He had to find them before Celine did or all would be lost all over again. There were footsteps coming from above and his heart started to race. He reached for his drink and took a long slow sip. It seemed to have the power to revive him into action and he sprang to his feet in time to see Frankie enter the room. He rushed forward to meet him and embraced the little man as if he had been gone for years.

“Frankie! You’re home! Thank God!” He let him go and held him by his shoulders looking down into his eyes. Frankie was beaming. He was always like this when he had accomplished something devious. Things were beginning to look up.

“Hey Marcus. Nice to see you too! I told you not to worry.” Frankie winked conspiratorially. “This is the easy part, you can worry later.” Frankie pulled the jump drive from his pocket. “I’ve got something for you.” His blue eyes twinkled with devilment. He was getting far too much pleasure from this but for once Marcus didn’t mind. “You’re not going to believe what she’s up to.” They walked sided by side to the stairs and made their way to Marcus’ office. Marcus called out to the maid almost yelling at her.

“Virginie! We are going to be in the office and we do not wish to be disturbed for any reason whatsoever. Do you understand?” There was nothing mean or officious in his voice. It was more like excitement.

“Oui Monsieur!” She called back cheerfully. This meant she was free for a bit. Maybe she would walk the gardens herself and take in some of the lovely Spring weather that had only just arrived in Paris. She looked out the long windows out onto the terrace and took in all of the beauty that lay sprawled indifferently beneath her feet.

Sasha sat at her desk and couldn’t stop worrying. Why would the president of the company want to see her unless something was wrong? She had never met the woman and now the owner of a multi billion dollar international company was requesting a meeting. This could not be good. Could it be, just when she was getting used to the fact that her fabulous life was indeed all her own, someone had the power to take it all away from her. She reached for her coffee cup and drank the last of the powerful brown liquid the French call café. It was bitter and it was scalding hot but it was exactly what she needed. She glanced around her desk and looked at the memo again. All it said was that she had a meeting with Ms. D’Aumont at 10:30 a.m. Well, they usually don’t fire people until the end of the day, or was that just an American thing? Maybe their French took you out for a wine and cheese lunch before they gave you the boot. She wished for the first time that she had made friends since moving to Paris. She had acquaintances all over the place but there was no one person she could call and be all paranoid with who would not think she was crazy. Someone who told her she was doing a great job and it would be foolish for the company to let someone as fabulous as Sasha go. She had no interest in friends when she moved here. All she thought about was getting to Paris then finding work and a place to live. All her life was spent working on this dream of hers and now that it had come true she was just beginning to see that no dream, no matter how grand is worth much of anything when there is nobody to share it with. Now, more ever she wished her mother were alive. She would know what to say to calm her down. She tried to imagine calling her and telling her how freaked out she was about this meeting and she imagined her mother laughing and telling her that she was being silly and it was probably nothing. More than likely it was probably good news. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head. She could hear the practical wisdom coming form her lips. Sasha suddenly worried about her outfit. Did she look professional? Did she stand out from the other women in the office who refused to be nice to the American.? Would Ms. D’Aumont approve? Oh she wished it were over already. Looking at her empty coffee cup she decided she needed action. She had some time and the people on her floor would not see her leaving or coming back for that matter, She would head outside to one of the little cafes and order another coffee. She suddenly wished that she smoked. It would give her something to do. For now, getting coffee would work. It would get her outside for a moment and she could collect her thoughts before going back in. She grabbed her purse and walked quickly to the stairway.

Taylor’s expensive car pulled up to the front of Celgen Laboratories. It looked just like the pictures he had seen while researching his topic. After a coma like sleep on the most comfortable mattress he had ever slept on, he was good to go. He never touched the champagne that Celine had sent him. He never drank alcohol. That was something out of his past. There was a time in his life when he couldn’t sleep without drinking. To be more accurate, he couldn’t dream when he drank. All his life he was tormented by nightmares. Ever since he was little he would wake up in the middle of the night choking and screaming. After years of doctors and medications, he finally found out that if he drank enough booze, the dreams would cease to come. For a good ten years he lived his life this way but he could not keep up with it and the longer time went on, the more alcohol he needed. Last year he went for alcohol counseling and decided that the nightmares were better than dealing with the endless hangovers that plagued his life. He was an adult now. What harm could a dream do to him now? Even last night he had dreamed of violence. There was blood and death everywhere and he was desperately trying to find someone in all the chaos. He woke up screaming and the poor people in the room next to his called the desk thinking that someone was being murdered. He recovered quickly and tried to shake off the sense of fear an anxiety the dream had given him. He had a big day today. Celine wanted to meet him immediately. Of course, the official interview wasn’t for two more days, but he wanted to get as much information he could our of her and here she was making herself very available to him. As a reporter he knew a smoke screen when he saw one. There was something Celine didn’t want him to talk about. He would find out what it was and decide for himself if it was newsworthy. Besides, it’s always the stuff that people want to leave out of their story that makes it all the more interesting. He could make his colleague regret ever giving him this story. He had the feeling that this was going to be one of those really big stories. His gut instinct told him this the minute she saw the driver of his limo. Something big was about to break and he was going to be there when it did. He checked out his reflection in one of the mirrors in the car. He looked good. The bags under his eyes were gone and he was dressed in a semi formal fashion with a black blazer and a bright blue silk shirt and decidedly no tie. He even unbuttoned a few of the buttons to show a sense of recklessness but not enough to make him look like a gigolo. He was definitely vain and knew what worked with the ladies. Not that he had hundreds of lovers in his life but he certainly like the attention and the flattery. He checked one last time and brushed his hand through his dark hair slightly tousling it. He did not want to appear stiff and boring. He wanted to seem fresh and modern. He wanted to be someone that Celine D’Aumont would find attracting and amusing. Someone with whom she might let down her guard and reveal things that she might not reveal to another journalist . He was doing what he did best. He was working a story. He got out of the car and thanked the lovely woman Celine had sent to pick him up at the airport. For a moment he thought he caught her sizing him up. Aha! Finally a crack in that tough girl exterior. He had given up long before the car even pulled up to the hotel on the Champs Elysees. Yesterday she barely responded to his clever quips and playful discourse but then again he did look a fright. Today was very different. He was well rested and feeling on top of his game. He boldly have her a little wink which she ignored, but couldn’t help smile at his boyishness. He watched her drive off and took a good look around. People were moving in and out of the building with a sense of importance. This Celgen was a very busy place. The pace reminded him of Wall Street. He walked toward the glass and steel and was looking up at the edifice when a woman crashed into him almost knocking him to the ground.