Page 3 of War Within
Yes?
You busy?He chuckled intensely.
Sì. Just a bit.
Silence.
Emil?
Yeah, sorry. I was in the middle of something.
One would have assumed that to be strange, but he was known to call people while in the middle of things; business or pleasure.
Okay, well what did you need? I’m also busy.
As if on cue, Mirabella dropped to her knees. Placing a steady hand on the back of her head, I pressed her against my body. Looking up at me with a seductive smolder, she took me in her mouth, presenting no objection as the head stroked the back of her throat. My eyes rolled back, guiding her back and forth.
I got word something big is going down soon, but don’t know what. I’m going to be hiring extra security for tomorrow night.
I trust you to handle it. I have to go.
Are we still on for later?
I sighed, forgetting the arrangement.Yes. I’ll text in a bit.
Why was it impossible for my boss to do his own research? I had worked for him for years, but it was all a part of the plan. My plan? No. It was the plan of another man I worked for; therealboss. When someone offers you more money than you can refuse, you take it and do whatever it takes.
Even though my title wasexecutivepersonal assistantfor Mr. Rovati, I was in no position to be doing the job. I falsified records with the help of my boss and faked my way through the interview, having had absolutely no experience in the required field. It was easy. Almost too easy. What I thought would be a temporary job, turned into an agonizing few years. I was hoping everything would come to a head soon. I just wanted to be out of there.
As I sat on my sofa watching television and working on the project he had assigned, my phone vibrated on the cushion next to me. Glancing at the caller ID, I scoffed. Placing the phone to my ear, I sighed, bracing myself for more orders.
Hello, Mr. Rovati.
Good evening, Jean. Why did he never get my name correct? Was it too much to ask?I need you to come over to my house this instant.
He never invited me to his home.
Is everything okay?Squinting, I listened intently, waiting for any inkling he found out about the true me. Every day, I lived in fear.
Just get over here, now!
Before I could respond, he hung up. What the hell could he have needed this late? I did not bother to change. When he said the word,now, he meant it and I had to play the part. Teleportation would not have been fast enough for him. I hurried out the door to my car and sped to his home.
Mr. Rovati never spoke about his personal life, nor did I ever ask. I had no idea if he was married, had kids, or lived alone like some brooding, billionaire-bachelor, Bruce Wayne. He was a mystery, and it was proving harder to get any sliver of information from him when my other boss asked for it.
Security allowed me on property after checking my ID. Slowly meandering down the long drive, I watched out the windshield keenly, wondering if a trap had been set for me. Instead, I found myself coming to a stop at a second privacy gate. Just beyond, a circular drive paved the way to the main entrance of his enormous, modern, Mediterranean-villa inspired mansion. The home was nestled in the heart of several acres. The landscaping and gardens appeared to be freshly manicured. The aroma of autumn flowers welcomed my presence as I stepped out of the car.
Sneaking warily, I scuffed toward the Tuscan-yellow home, pressing the camera doorbell mounted to the earth-toned stone. I peeked through the distorted glass on the wooden and wrought iron double doors to see if I could sense any movement. Adjusting my glasses on the bridge of my nose, I took a step back the moment I spotted a shadow approaching.
An older man pulled the door open slowly, displaying a warm grin. He bowed his head courteously as he signaled for me to enter. I expected pure elegance from the home but did not anticipate the magnificent display before me. It was only the foyer, but my breath was taken away by the bright, white walls with the same exterior earthy stone framing each luxurious archway. A grand staircase centered in the room, hugged the walls as it ascended to each floor. An enormous, glass chandelier hung high above the open space, encasing flickering faux candles.
“Ahem.” The man cleared his throat, summoning my attention.
Jolting out of my admiration for the lovely home, I spun on my heels, almost tripping on my feet.
“Hello Miss.” With a sincere tone, he offered a gentle smile. “I am Jackson, Mr. Rovati’s butler.”
“I'm Jane.” Lifting my hand, I gripped my forearm, stroking my exposed skin. Suddenly, I felt insignificant and unworthy to be in the presence of such a lavish estate.
