Tentyrian Legacy (23 page)

2010 AD, July

New York, New York The Four Seasons

“Where is she, Robert?” I ask my trusted
friend as I take a sip from the crystal champagne flute. “The plane
landed over an hour ago.”

“It seems Arianna had her own plan and
insisted the driver take her home,” replies Robert. “She said that
she’d manage to get herself to the party just fine—that is what the
driver said. He is still outside her apartment, as is the
surveillance team.”

“Very good. When she arrives, please let me
know.” I place my empty glass on the silver tray that sails past
and decide to make the rounds. The Bulle de Sucre dessert, a purple
sugar bubble filled with violet cream, blueberry sherbet, and lemon
jam, is being served. It looks delicious, but I prefer to drink my
calories—at least tonight. As I visit the tables, I make it a point
to say a few words to as many employees as possible. While I find
these affairs boring, they are important. I want my people to feel
appreciated because they are. Without them, we wouldn’t have any
earnings to celebrate.

The criticism that the rich keep getting
richer while the poor keep getting poorer isn’t beyond me. I hear
it loud and clear. But the reality is our earnings help fund some
of the city’s most important projects, including the NYC Children’s
Hospital, the Manhattan Institute of Medical Research, and the new
ADR housing project in the Bronx solely sponsored by Leo
Capital.

The ADR “American Dream Realized” housing
project was an idea of mine to provide affordable but beautiful and
safe housing for struggling families. Administered by an
independent council, the program calls for interested families to
submit applications stating their situation and plans for the
future. If approved by the ADR board, the family will receive a
home for three years and pay a flat rate of $300 a month. We just
broke ground on fifteen new townhouses last week. Job counseling,
day care, and various support services are all included, with the
goal in mind that when their lease is up, the families will be more
than capable of standing on their own two feet.

While the human race is fragile, it can also
be incredibly strong. Sometimes it just needs a little help. As I
glance around the room at the glittering jewelry and flashy
watches, I recognize the decadence, but I also recognize that it is
this that makes projects like the ADR possible. It is also this
that funds and supports my own purpose.

Contrary to popular belief, I’m not about
ripping apart companies, firing people, and making a profit. We
make a profit for sure, but Leo Capital also helps salvage and
improve hundreds of businesses a year. And those companies that we
do take down deserve it. There will always be naysayers, but for as
long as I am alive, I intend to keep Leo thriving and generating
the money I need to continue what I set out to do.

The band strikes up a classic swing number,
and the dance floor fills with tuxedos and ball gowns. I see Sasha
coming toward me in a slinky black sequined halter gown that might
as well be see-through based on the quantity of nipple I can see.
Her long blonde hair is swept up into a tight chignon, drawing
attention to her long, exotic neck that I have so enjoyed over the
last few months. I told her I could offer little more than the
pleasures in my bed and some polite dinner conversation, but that
has done little to deter her. She refuses to let up on her
possessiveness, despite my trying to break it off last week. I’ll
have to talk to Allison about allowing her into the party, and all
future events for that matter.

“Maaaximos,” she purrs in her Russian accent.
“Vyy have you not called me?”

“Sasha, I told you I’m very busy right now .
. . and I can no longer do this,” I say while scanning the crowd
for Allison, who may need to call security if this escalates. I can
tell Sasha has already had too much to drink.

“But vvy?” she demands. The sharp, almost
emaciated features of her face that have made her a world-famous
model contort into an unattractive scowl. “Vy are you not pleased
with me anymore?” I really don’t want a scene right now.

“Sasha, I like you, I do, but I can’t give
you the attention you need. You should be with someone else.”

“But I vaant you,” she cries. “I thought ve
made a vonderful couple!” I can see the tears starting to well up.
I spy Robert out in the throng, talking to the other two managing
partners, Satish and Samson. They are almost certainly discussing
Arianna and what she means for the future of Leo. I hired them
because they are smart and trustworthy. They are all men of
integrity, and they can keep a secret. But their concern is not
misplaced. If Arianna is who we think she is and she accepts the
job offer, a new type of visibility will undoubtedly reach us that
could be dangerous. If she refuses, it means she may never accept
my help and we will be unable to protect her.

With my men occupied, I’m going to have to
deal with Sasha myself. And I’m going to do it once and for all. I
typically despise using mind control on humans, but in the long run
this will help her.

“Sasha my dear,” I say, lowering my voice to
draw her in. She steps closer, and her eyes widen. The sound of my
voice and my dilated eyes are starting to enthrall her. I reach out
and tenderly brush her cheek with my palm; she leans her face
against it. “Sasha, look at me. I want you to listen. You don’t
like me. You do not like Maximos Vasilliadis. You are going to turn
away now and leave this party. You want to go home . . . and eat
something . . . with carbohydrates.”

Her eyes, which fluttered shut as I spoke,
are now fully open. She takes a step back in confusion and excuses
herself. That will be the last I’ll hear from her. While her
company was enjoyable, it was becoming too complicated. I have
enough on my hands. One of which is Arianna Parker.

My study of Arianna over the last few months
has certainly been an interesting one. If an outsider were to look
inside the contents of my desk, they’d likely think I was a
stalker. My file on her has everything from her medical records to
her senior thesis. My team has snapped enough photos of her to fill
an art gallery. And an art gallery wouldn’t be an exaggeration,
because that woman is like looking at a work of art. Whether she is
jogging at 4:30 in the morning, cooking in her apartment, or
working intently, Arianna is one of the most focused and striking
people I’ve come across—and that is saying something.

I normally don’t read anything but financial
or news publications or the security reports my men give me. But
the head of HR sent me the May issue of the magazine containing a
profile on Arianna. She suggested I take a read through. My heart
almost stopped in my chest when I saw the picture. The resemblance
was astounding. At first I thought I was hallucinating. Maybe my
blood sugar was low. But after a double take, I realized I’d
recognize that sharp chin and those green eyes anywhere. I called
the Brothers to let them know what I suspected. They were
incredulous at first, but when I e-mailed them the article, they
couldn’t deny the resemblance.

I immediately set my team to finding as much
information about her as possible and had a security team watch her
at all times, yielding the thick file. Her extreme intelligence,
obvious struggles with mental health, and physical resemblance were
all key markers. If Arianna is who we think she is, then big
changes are about to take place. This is what we’ve been waiting
for. It also means others have or would soon recognize her too.

According to my records, Arianna’s birthday
is only three days away now, which means the window is getting
smaller and smaller. Of course, it would have been much easier to
simply retrieve her and lay out our theories immediately. But we
need to tread carefully. Arianna is too valuable an asset to
mishandle. We need her to want to work for us. Once we have her in
the door, we will be far more capable of controlling the events to
come.

“Excuse me, Mr. Vasilliadis,” says a young
waiter. “Here is the drink you requested from your private
stock.”

“Thank you,” I say as I reach for the glass
of vintage merlot infused with a special blend of O and A negative.
But before I take in a pull of the aromatic scent, I catch the
scent of something else. It makes my gums prick, and it’s
definitely not the wine. It smells like lily and honey and carries
a pulse beating a few skips faster than an average human’s. Not
quite as fast as mine. I turn toward it. Arianna. I breathe in. She
is coming down the curved staircase leading into the ballroom. I’m
not the only one who has taken notice.

Several of the guests have looked up from
their cocktails and conversations to admire the new arrival. Where
Sasha is pure sex appeal, Arianna is pure elegance. She is wearing
a long chiffon skirt. Silver. High waisted, with pleats cascading
silkily around her hips. Hips any man would want in his hands. A
knit top hugs her closely and dips seamlessly into her skirt. The
small cap sleeves reveal slender, creamy arms; the scoop neck shows
just enough breast that I take a gulp of wine to take the edge off.
She’s worn her hair down, its chestnut color enhanced by subtle
honey highlights and a slight wave. I can hear it brush against her
shoulders and neck. God, that beautiful neck. It’s adorned by a
diamond necklace of flowers. On her ring finger, she wears a
matching flower encrusted with diamonds. Fortunately, I know it’s
not a wedding ring. That would add another level of complication I
don’t need.

“Maximos, she is here,” Robert says as he
comes to my side. “I can see that,” I reply, a bit gruffer than I
intend.

“She arrived in a taxi . . .”

I take another swig of my drink and a deep
breath, forcing my incisors to retract all the way in. Certainly
don’t want to embarrass myself.

“Well, are you going to bring her over here?”
I ask.

“Of course.” She’s made her way down the
stairs. Robert hurries toward her and extends a hand. Arianna gives
him a gracious smile as he offers to escort her. She takes his arm.
With her free hand, she clutches a small, sparkly box that must be
a purse. What can a woman possibly fit in a contraption like
that?

They are coming toward me; Robert is walking,
Arianna is gliding. She sees me. Her eyes lock on mine. They are
mesmerizing. Surprise registers on her face. But just as quickly as
it’s there, it’s gone. Her emotions are now masked to me.

“Mr. Vasilliadis,” she says smoothly, beating
Robert to the punch. “A pleasure, Ms. Parker,” I respond calmly. I
take her hand in mine.

It would be too cliché and inappropriate to
kiss it, but I’d love to. Our touch is hot . . . like fire. We
quickly separate in surprise, and she takes a step back. Her scent
completely overwhelms me, and I must swallow convulsively. Lily,
honey, skin, blood. She is intoxicating. I swear on all that is
holy, in the 2,225 years I’ve been alive, I haven’t experienced
anything like this. My demeanor appears calm, at least I hope it
does, but inside, my body and mind are screaming at me. I didn’t
see this coming. Could this be the woman that Hathor’s prophecy
predicted?

In the months leading up to this moment, the
Brothers joked I was becoming obsessed with Arianna—routinely
checking in with the surveillance team and reading her file to find
any pieces of information I had missed. I told myself it was
because I wanted to protect her and keep her safe if she was one of
us. She was just a child to me. But standing before me, it is clear
she is no child. Praise Hathor for that.

I can see the pulse in her neck beating
furiously, and her fingers are now clenched around the sparkling
box. Her careful smile doesn’t betray her, but I know she is as
rattled as I am.

“I hope your travels went well today?” I
inquire.

“Yes. So how do you wish to go about this,
Mr. Vasilliadis?” she replies coolly. Clearly, she wants to skip
the niceties.

“Please, call me Maximos. Robert, if you will
excuse us?” Robert nods and walks over to Satish and Samson, who
are eagerly awaiting an update. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Some sparkling water with lemon would be
lovely.” I nod to a waiter, who comes over and eagerly takes her
order. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the men in her life await her
beck and call.

“I’d like to have this conversation in
private,” I say firmly. “Even though we are amongst my employees, I
like to keep confidential information concerning live deals quiet.
Let us go to the roof.”

“Will the managing partners be joining us?”
she asks, unsure.

“No, I keep them apprised of the information
they need. I want to hear your analysis firsthand. I’ve gone to
great lengths to hear your opinion, Arianna.”

I can tell she is pondering the prospect of
being alone with me on a rooftop. She slips a hand into the fold in
her skirt and pulls out a phone to look at the time.

“Well, that’s clever to have pockets. Surely
you couldn’t fit that in your purse,” I remark—somewhat of an
obvious comment. But then again, it’s hard to bring your A game
when you can barely focus on anything except for a woman’s scent
and neck.

“No, I couldn’t, and I like to keep it with
me at all times.” She gives me a hard look. Is she warning me that
she has her phone with her? Does she think I’m going to make a move
and she’ll have to call 911? Surely not, if I ever hope to gain her
trust. I merely raise an eyebrow at her. “Yes, let’s go,” she
agrees. “It is getting late, though; I will leave here in an hour.”
She states it as a fact. Arianna is obviously trying to put some
parameters in place.

“Very well.” I nod. The waiter comes back
with Arianna’s water, and we make our way to the roof. As the
elevator doors close, the air grows thick between us. It’s not
caused by dread or fear—rather, it’s pure anticipation. I can
almost feel the air crackling with energy.