The Marked One (The Marked Series Book 1) (5 page)

“How can you let a subordinate—”

“Bitch, what the hell did you just call me?!” Ivan spit a little piece of doughnut into Ms. Johns’ hair.

“Stop it, both of you,” Tristan warned, seeing the two about to start a very probable fight, where either could let loose a bitch slap. “Ms. Johns, the first thing you are supposed to know about this corporation is that we are all equals. Ivan might be my assistant, but he is a close friend and not my
subordinate
,” Ivan gave a very bitchy “uh-huh” and bit off another piece of the doughnut. “You may leave now.” She got out of her seat and without another word she left.

“That was way more fun than I expected,” Ivan said between bites while his bright brown eyes flickered with utter pleasure.

“You know you are kind of a bitch, right?” Tristan asked Ivan, taking his seat again.

“It’s in my DNA. My mothers are bitches. I’m a bitch. My kids will hopefully someday be and I will make sure yours are as well.” He flashed Tristan his trademark smile, which stood out against his ebony skin.

“Not happening anytime soon.” Tristan looked at his computer screen to go over a few details before his conference call with the Vancouver branch.

Ivan walked to the screen on the opposite side of the office, turned it on, and readied a glass of water on the coffee table. “What about Ms. Labas…Labush…” Ivan took a calming breath while Tristan held back his laughter, knowing nothing irritated Ivan more than struggling with pronunciations. “How the hell do you say that surname?”

Tristan smiled. “How about you call her and we find out tomorrow?”

Ivan laughed full-heartedly and by the time Tristan took his seat on the armchair with his notes, Ivan had composed himself. “Eleven sounds okay?” He carried an evil, knowing smirk.

Tristan sighed like an old man. “Yes, if it’s open.” Ivan headed for the door. “Just tell her that we want to do a follow-up interview and that she must check in at the security desk.”

“Yes, sir.” Ivan sounded delighted.

“And Ivan.” The man stopped and turned back. “Wipe off that smirk and go home after you made sure Isabella’s gift is still on the way.” The conference call came through before Ivan could reply, and Tristan hoped that Aaliyah Labuschagne would feel the connection he felt toward her since he’d first seen her portrait.

***

Aaliyah

Aaliyah was slowly regretting she had agreed to do more poses for Madeline’s art, but she had a proper meal for the first time since she was back in the US. Her bed was warm, and at least she had time now. Secretly she wondered if she would ever make enough money to buy back
The Marked One
and all that would follow. She was daunted by the idea that her face, her pain, was somewhere in someone’s house or office for all to see and admire.

Her cell phone rang and inwardly she cussed, realising it was downstairs. She jumped out of the bed and nearly fell down the last few steps as she bolted to the phone on the kitchen counter. It stopped ringing the second she had it in her hand. The number didn’t look familiar, and instinct told her she likely missed one of the most important calls of her life.

The phone buzzed even before the ringtone began playing. She picked it up. “Hello!”

“Dear, no need to yell at me,” the man on the other end said.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

“Hush, I was just teasing.” She let out a sigh. “Is this Aaliyah Lab…I can’t pronounce your surname, sorry.”

She chuckled. “No problem, and yes, yes, that’s me, Aaliyah Labuschagne.” She bit her lip to stop blurting out anything else. Her hope grew that this might be an interview or a job offer.

“Wow, your accent doesn’t sound like they usually do in the movies. I mean, when they cast or try selling the South African accent.” She made an odd sound that was supposed to be a yes, but it sounded far off. “Anyway, I am Ivan Dennis-Patrickson from Gerardo Corporations…from HR.” The last part took the man a moment. “We would like you to come back in tomorrow at eleven, if possible.”

“Yes, of course, thank you so much, but if I may ask, which company?” She thought a moment that it sounded a little ungrateful, because she sure wouldn’t be interviewed by the main people of the corporation. Not yet, anyway. Maybe in twenty years. She just didn’t even have experience. “Just to prepare, you know?”

“Of course.” There was a momentary pause. “City Lights Marketing is in need of an assistant, but as you know, you would later be able to move to another company if you stand out.”

Her lips curled into a smile. She closed her eyes and sighed softly in relief. “Thank you very much. I’ll be there.”

“You can check in at the security desk, and I’ll come down to get you. It would be more convenient.” The man sounded more excited than she felt.

“Very well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She could hear the sing-song tone in her voice.

“Looking forward to it, and we apologise for the way you were treated today. Goodnight.”

The man ended the call before Aaliyah could say anything else, but she began bouncing up and down in excitement as a squeal crossed her lips.

Something to the right caught her eye and she jumped. A fat white rat was running along the wall where the lockers were, and the thing was easily bigger than a small dog. At least in that moment it seemed much bigger, but it bolted straight for the large hole in the corner next to the front door she hadn’t noticed before. Suddenly, the possibility that more were hiding close by completely freaked her out.

Then there was a knock at the door, causing her to yell. “What is going on, girl?” Vera asked from outside, and Aaliyah wanted to hug the woman. She cautiously walked to the door, opened it, and placed a box in front of the hole as Vera stepped in. “What are you doing? And there are no pets allowed.”

“Pets?” She frowned and realised Vera likely saw the rat. “Oh, that fat white rat that ran out of here isn’t mine. Believe me! I nearly had a heart attack two seconds ago.”

Vera looked at the box. “It’s gonna chew through that.”

“I know, but it is all I have right now.” Aaliyah looked at the box and hoped it wasn’t going to keep another visitor
in
. The thought made her look around reluctantly.

“I’ll let my husband fix it,” Vera stated easily, looking at the sparsely decorated area.

“It isn’t necessary; I know the fixes are mine to take care of.” The woman gave her a look that said,
Take it
. “Thank you,” she added gratefully.

“Good, I wanted to come ask how it was going. Are you settled? And have you found a job?”

“I’m settled so far, uhm, but I’m having a second interview with a big company I won’t mind to work for.” She sounded as excited as she felt.

“Ah, that is good. Which one?” Vera smiled at her in a motherly way. Aaliyah might have been looking too much into the woman’s intentions, but she felt happy to have someone to tell the great news to.

“Gerardo Corporations. They own City Lights Marketing, so I hope I might get the job. It is an assistant position, but it is something.”

“I’m truly glad for you. And, well, I want to thank you for the money you gave to my husband, but I hope it wasn’t acquired through means…”

Aaliyah immediately caught the suggestion the woman struggled to say. “Oh, no.” She smiled. “My friend is an artist, I
modelled
long ago for her portrait and she sold it, so I got my share. That’s all.”

“It must be a beautiful picture,” Vera said.

“Yes, she got quite a large sum of money for it,” Aaliyah said, assuming the woman referred to her paying the deposit and one month’s rent.

“No, dear, I meant more in the lines that you have an angel’s face, assuming that it was the focus. Not to come across as being too forward for mentioning it, but you are beautiful.” The woman sounded serene.

Aaliyah was at a loss for words. She realised that the woman didn’t look at her the way others did, and even if she might have pitied her by giving her extra time to get money for the rent, she seemed to have meant the kindness.

Her eyes threatened to tear up. Rarely did she come across people who gave her kind words. “Thank you, I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know.”

Vera awkwardly patted her shoulder. “You are welcome to join me and my husband for dinner sometime. I always make too much. I’ll caution you that it is going to be Italian, which might be bad if you are looking after your waistline.”

Aaliyah chuckled. “I love Italian, so I’ll take up the offer soon.”

Vera opened the door. “I’ll send my husband with something to cover the hole before you get an infestation of critters as well. Goodnight, dear.”

“Goodnight, ma’am, and thank you.” Vera nodded, and the door closed. Aaliyah smiled to herself and grabbed her phone to let Madeline know how the day had changed into something from a dream.

Chapter Three

Aaliyah had hardly been able to sleep the previous evening, as she felt far too excited for this second chance for an interview at Gerardo Corporations. After she called Madeline, who was as excited as she was over this second opportunity, the two agreed to meet up to discuss what other portraits would be in the exhibition. She was still not pleased about doing them, but Madeline kept telling her to embrace it, which had her sounding more like Aaliyah’s mother every day.

Since she couldn’t sleep, she was awake early enough to cover her face with the Break Free Cosmetics. She now nearly regretted that it was the only proper product that worked for her, as she was reminded of the previous day.

What was clear was that people were looking less at her, and it was why this second chance was a blessing. She didn’t want to stand out—face covered or exposed. She just wanted to blend in.

As she walked up to the front desk, the security guard smiled at her a little creepily. “Good day. How can I help, miss?”

“Hey, I’m not entirely sure who I’m seeing, but I’m Aaliyah Labuschagne. I’m here for an interview with City Lights Marketing.” She felt embarrassed for having forgotten the man’s name, but her excitement blurred the details.

The man frowned at her. “I was told about you. I’ll call Mr. Dennis-Patrickson, but he’s not part of City Lights Marketing.” He looked her over as he picked up the phone’s receiver, “Hey, Ivan, the lady is here.” Aaliyah wasn’t fond of the way the man was looking at her, and she feared he might have recognised her from the day before. The man set the receiver down. “Mr. Dennis-Patrickson will be here in a moment. You can take a seat if you’d like.”

“I’m good, thank you.” She turned to face the elevators. She paced in front of the desk, going though the details of the marketing company Gerardo began as an easy access, in-house marketing option, which later became more independent while Gerardo still held controlling interests.

The anticipation and stress combining inside her body made her jitters even more noticeable, as she was flexing her fingers to shake them, in a near literal sense.

“Miss, weren’t you here yesterday?” the security guard asked. Aaliyah felt a finger tap her shoulder.

She turned around and faced a man who looked so prim and proper, she felt as if she must bow to him. He had kind brown eyes, charcoal hair shaved into perfect patterns, and he was just a little taller than she was. His smile grew wide on his attractive face, which revealed perfectly pearly teeth.

“Ms. Aaliyah, I’m Ivan Dennis-Patrickson.” He reached out his hand to shake hers.

She didn’t want to ruin her sheath dress by wiping her sweaty hand over the fabric, so the truth slipped from her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m too stressed.”

He smiled even wider, threw an arm over her shoulder, and walked her toward the opposite direction of the foyer and the elevators. Aaliyah felt utterly confused, and his
buddiness
was the last thing that bothered her. Their direction, on the other hand, was a completely different reason to question things, until he said, “Well, you are in luck. I do hugs as well. Prefer them, actually.” Aaliyah gulped down trying to ask where they were going, but he pressed on. “Now come with me. Mr. Gerardo is very excited to meet you.”

Her knees locked and it caused the man’s arm to rip off her shoulder. “What?”

He faced her. “Your interview is with Mr. Gerardo. He has a
way
better offer for you than City Lights Marketing ever would.”

“I’m far too underdressed for that.” Her eyes felt as big as plates. She worried how her simple sheath dress could be made more classy in the elevator ride.

“He is a normal guy, now come on. You’ll be fine.” Mr. Dennis-Patrickson led her the rest of the way to a private elevator, which was nestled in the back wall. They needed to pass two security guards and the elevator had no buttons, only a fingerprint scanner. Mr. Dennis-Patrickson placed his thumb on the scanner. They stepped in, and the elevator began to ascend.

“Why does he want to see me? Had I done something wrong yesterday when I was here for the interview with Break Free Cosmetics? I did give back the pass and everything.” Aaliyah wasn’t feeling very well. Her heart was trying to pound through her chest and her head was fuzzy with confusion.

“Ms. Johns has been fired.” Her vision went blank. “Ms. Aaliyah, are you okay?”

She held a hand on the wall to prevent herself from falling over. “Please, tell me it isn’t my fault and that I’m not here to be taken to the authorities?”

“Why would you…why are you afraid it is your fault? That bitch deserved it. She wasn’t following company policies, and she was stealing. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have known it,” he said easily as he fixed his already perfect tie in the mirror on the wall of the elevator.

“That makes it my fault,” she said thinly. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and felt even sicker, as she saw how simple she looked in her best dress.

“You brought attention to the problem, and you weren’t the only one to have been treated unfairly in her interviews.”

“But she lost her job.” Aaliyah regained a smidge of control as the elevator stopped and they stepped out. She felt awful, and even the beautiful view from the highest floor she’d ever been on wasn’t making her feel any better. They passed a sleek sunken lounge waiting area sat opposite a modern-style wood and silver metal desk, and they headed for the frosted door further to the back.

“Aaliyah, you deserved that job. The others deserved that job. Do you understand that she needed to be exposed?” Mr. Dennis-Patrickson tried clarifying.

Aaliyah stared at him. “But why me? Why does Mr. Gerardo want to see me? I’m not any different from…my face. It was because I was exposed yesterday. He felt sorry.”

“I assure you, pity was and is his last thought when it comes to you.” The statement had her frowning as he led her inside Gerardo’s office, which revealed an even better view of the city from above. Only a few other buildings stood as tall as this one did, and she could see the rivers meet. There was another door and she assumed it was likely a private bathroom. “Mr. Gerardo will be here in a few moments. He is just overseeing the new management at Break Free Cosmetics. Can I get you anything?”

“Water would be great,” she said through a dry throat.

Mr. Dennis-Patrickson walked to a cabinet close to the entrance, opened a door, and revealed a small fridge, neatly hidden. “Glass? Ice? Lemon?”

“No, just as it is would do.” Mr. Dennis-Patrickson handed her the bottle of water and left her in the office. She took a hefty gulp of the water and went to take a quick peek through the glass wall.

The view was utterly breathtaking. She could see the Point State Park fountain, the red cable car of The Duquesne Incline, and even Heinz Field on the opposite riverbank.

She walked to the small lounge area and took a seat, still not properly realising that she was about to meet one of the biggest businessmen in the country. She recalled from the map guide that Vera had given her that the man had recently turned fifty and in it he said he was going to retire. Taking a calming breath, she heard an unknown masculine voice outside. She knew it was real. She was going to meet the man at the top.

The door clicked open. As she rose, she knocked her bottle of water over, the cap luckily on. After quickly setting it back upright on the mahogany coffee table, she finally turned around. The man she faced though, sure couldn’t have been the fifty-year-old Arnoldo Vittorio Gerardo.

“You can’t be fifty years old. You are far too…” She stopped herself before she said too many things she would later regret. Her eyes grew wide as what she said fully sunk in. The man standing in front of her was incomparable to anyone she had come across, yet she never felt more at ease than when he smiled beautifully.

“Miss, if you were expecting an older man, I’m afraid my father has retired.” He closed the door behind him. His scruffy dark blonde hair wafted casually as he turned back to face her and his dark eyes looked more seriously at her. “It seems you have done insufficient research of the corporation, if you don’t even know who the CEO is.”

“No, I did,” she quickly explained, attempting to avoid the beautiful olive-skinned man’s scrutinising eyes. “The Gerardo Corporation was formally established in 2001, after being created in 1999. Only in 2008 did the company become internationally recognised, when Arnoldo Vittorio Gerardo became a billionaire and…ouch, you’re the son. I am so sorry. I…”

The man was smirking at her. He only had one dimple on his right cheek, nestled beneath his trimmed beard that caused his smile to look a little uneven. She let out a breath.

“I was just teasing you, but I’ve been the CEO for a while now.” He didn’t sound unkind, and the way he was looking at her was quite admirable. It felt a little like he was assessing her, which made her uncomfortable but she smiled. “Please take a seat. I’m Tristano Gerardo.” He went to the armchair and sat facing her, as she still hadn’t sat down.

She couldn’t but stare at him. It had to be the position, his upbringing or something more probably to do with genetics that made him look so perfect.

“Miss Labuschagne, please take a seat.” He smiled again, and she swallowed hard on the lump stuck in her throat.

She finally sat. “You got my surname right.”

“Google is a helpful master.” He smirked and she returned it with a grin. “Miss Labuschagne, I need you to be honest when I ask you this following question.”

“O-of course,” she stammered feebly as she wondered if he only brought her in to confirm Ms. Johns’ improper interview procedure. But the stressful thought went away as the light that caught his eyes made them look hazel, instead of dark brown.

“Did you really want to work at Break Free Cosmetics?” he inquired matter-of-factly while his gaze stayed locked with hers.

The question wasn’t one she had expected, but she needed a job. “I’ve been using their products for so long that I…” the way he looked at her showed he didn’t buy it “…know that it works and being able to work for them would be a great opportunity. We all need to start somewhere and if I could with them, as a receptionist, that would be more than I’d ever expect.”

He didn’t say anything and she realised she had nothing to lose by being honest, so she went with it, as the comfort she felt helped her to reveal the truth.

“The honest answer is, I would rather want to have a job as a business analyst, instead of a receptionist or assistant’s job, but I know that I need to work toward that by starting lower.”

“But you are looking for adventure, for that something different. Is that is why you came back to the US? You could get that far more easily in South Africa with the US degree than you’ll ever get here.” He analysed her reaction, and she truly felt more comfortable around him than she ever had around anyone else, which was odd. He was a billionaire, or at least an heir to billions, and she currently only had acting as an artist’s model on her résumé. “What is it that you really want to do? Science?” It felt far from a question.

She frowned so hard, it nearly hurt. “How did you know?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and looking at his hands for a moment. When he looked back at her, the seriousness in his eyes was far more intense. “I saw you yesterday, when you were outside of the building.”

“The man,” she whispered. She remembered that after she left, she looked back and saw someone talking to the man who made her feel like a monster.

“What is Gerardo’s motto, Ms. Labuschagne?” he casually asked.

“You can’t tell me that you saw me yesterday and then continue the interview, if that is what this is.” She felt exposed, so she became defensive. He said nothing, and she realised it might be connected, and then she finally said, “
Judge only one’s self
.”

He settled back. “You were highly upset when you left the building, even before the man…I don’t want anyone to look the way you did. I had Ivan find out who you were and what you were doing here. I assumed you might be a client or an employee. My point is that is how I found your résumé. More importantly, that is also how I found out that one of my companies mistreated you and others due to people who don’t even know, let alone follow, the Gerardo motto.”

“And then Ms. Johns was fired.” Somehow she felt responsible so she looked down at her hands, so wrung together the flesh was feeling tender.

There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again. “Aaliyah.” Her head popped up and she met his eyes. He’d called her by her name, and for the first time in her life, she liked how it sounded. “If I may ask, why have you covered your face today?”

She let out an odd sigh-laugh. “So fewer people would stare.”

“But you still keep your face turned.” He didn’t seem unkind. He was definitely out of line, however, but the forwardness was far more refreshing than the covert glances she got when people who knew of her mark tried seeing it beneath her makeup.

She realised then that she was still holding her left side hidden, so she turned to face him completely.