by Lynn, Sophia
Ziyad was a man who prided himself on his instincts. He came from a long line of men who followed their passion, and for the most part, it had never steered them wrong. He was willing to follow this one as well.
He tensed when he heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom. For a moment, he thought someone had broken in. But when he heard his name called, he realized it was quite the opposite. With a grin, he shed his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt as he walked into the bedroom.
Beautiful, golden Carissa stretched out on the bed. Her tawny skin was a gorgeous contrast to his dark blue silk sheets, and the only thing that hid her curvy charms was a scrap of lace that pretended to be panties.
“Well, well,” he said. “I thought you and your roommate were tired of me and didn't want to see me anymore.”
“That was Evelyn,” she purred. “She still had that key you gave her, and she told me she didn't mind me using it. So after breakfast, I thought I'd come here to keep you company.”
With a grin, he stripped off his shirt and moved to sit next to her.
“What've you been doing this morning?” she asked as she reached for him.
There was something buzzing in the back of Ziyad's mind, something uncomfortable and new, but he ignored it. Instead, he reached for Carissa.
“I was at the museum,” he said, stretching out next to her.
She snorted. “Sure, keep it from me if you don't want to talk about it.”
As he kissed her, he had a fleeting thought of red hair and a pair of wide green eyes, and then it was gone.
***
IT HAD BEEN a good day. The children were rambunctious and active, but they had listened when Penny raised her hand for silence. They watched her with attentive eyes, and she really felt she was giving them the foundation they needed to excel in English, to reach out and share their bright and funny selves with the English-speaking world. Teaching was often challenging, and some days she could end school in tears, but today was not one of those days. Today, it felt as if she were floating on air.
The feeling of elation only lasted until Martella, the principal of the small school, walked up to her, her face a mask.
Despite her earlier feeling of euphoria, Penny had to stop herself from curling up defensively or wanting to scuttle away. Martella was a tall, spare woman with jet black hair and dark, sharp eyes that seemed to see everything. Whenever she spoke to Penny, Martella had a way of making her feel as if she was that scrawny kid in the hand-me-downs again. For a moment, Penny wondered how black eyes could make the man at the museum look so welcoming and have such an opposite effect on Martella.
“Miss Bright,” she said in brisk English. “Come with me, please. Pietro and I wish to have a word with you.”
Penny suddenly felt her stomach lurch. Pietro was one of the heads of the school committee. He had been one of the senior members on the committee that hired her, and she remembered him as being the one who seemed the least impressed by her enthusiasm, as well as the most questioning of her lack of experience in the elite schools.
Feeling a little like a dog that didn't understand what it had done wrong, Penny slunk behind Martella all the way to the woman's polished office. Her mind whirled over the issues that might be under discussion, each more ridiculous than the last. Had there been problems with her visa? Did one of her references suddenly decide she was actually horrible at her job? Had Martella simply decided that she didn't like Penny at all?
Frantically it played out in Penny's mind.
We're sorry, Miss Bright, but after careful review, we have discovered that your personality is utterly appalling, your skills are minimal, and perhaps most damning for Rome, your taste in fashion is simply abominable. I am sure you understand and will clear out your cupboard by this afternoon.
And no matter what she had to say, that would be that. She would mutter something about it having been a pleasure to work there for five months. Then she would be left to desperately try to find some kind of work in Italy before her visa booted her straight back to the United States.
By the time they made it to Martella's office, Penny was slightly frantic and already rehearsing what she might say if they fired her. To her surprise, when she entered the office, Pietro was there to offer her a seat in a comfortable chair. He took the chair across from her, and of course Martella settled behind her imposing black desk.
It brought a measure of relief when Pietro started speaking right away. He was an older man with a salt and pepper mustache, and he spoke English with a refined Oxford accent.
“There is no use beating around the bush,” he said. “The school has been made an amazing offer.”
Penny blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this. “An...offer, sir?”
Martella cut in. “Yes. By a man who recognizes your skills in English and would like to retain your services.”
Penny wasn't sure if she was following very well. Both Pietro and Martella looked at her expectantly, as if they were assuming she would pick up something important from context alone, but she couldn't. What were they trying to say? What was going on? It was times like this that Penny wished she could blame the problems on her speaking a foreign language, rather than being so painfully awkward.
“All right, but I think we all know that my Italian is rudimentary at best. I mean, I'm just teaching the kids fluency and helping them gain mastery. I'm not teaching them anything from the ground up. Deena Salvatore would be a far better teacher if whoever it is wants to start with basic English, like with verbs and things.”
A brief look of impatience flashed in Martella's eyes, as if she could not believe that Penny was being so clueless. But Penny truly had no idea what was going on.
Pietro stepped in to smooth things over. “Of course, we have the duty to make sure that all students who attend this school get the education that will best push them towards the careers and lives that are suitable for them. However, in the case of this client, I believe it is far better to assume that he knows what is best for him. This is a very rare opportunity, and one the school feels could be exceedingly beneficial.”
It was on the tip of Penny's tongue to shrug and simply let them sign her up for whatever tutoring job they thought best, but then Martella snorted impatiently.
“You are the only one who can do the job,” she snapped. “It will mean a great deal of money to us if you are willing to do it, money that we can spend on new science equipment and even an expanded music program. I also understand that you will also be well-compensated. Will you do the job or not?”
“I don't know!” Penny cried, on the verge of tears. There was something strange about this meeting, but it was nothing she could put her finger on. The feeling of something getting away from her, of her failing to read some very important clue, plagued her, and for a moment, she wanted to tug on her braids in dismay.
“Martella, will you leave us for a moment?” Pietro asked gently, and though the principal snorted, she did as the board member said.
When the door closed behind her, Pietro turned to Penny with a surprisingly compassionate look.
“You have not been in Italy long, have you?” he asked gently, and though Penny sniffled, she still managed to nod.
Pietro nodded. “It is far from easy to come to a new country and make a place for yourself, but yet here you are doing just that. When I was a young man and moved from the countryside to the city of Rome, I couldn't find my feet for weeks. It felt as if the ground were constantly shifting out from underneath me, and that I was always slipping backwards, farther and farther...”
“Yes!” Penny said. “That is exactly how it feels! I thought I was the only one who felt it, though. All of the other expatriate teachers are always so very polished and poised. It makes me feel like the ugly duckling.”
To her surprise, her outburst made him smile for some reason, though there was something sly there in his eyes that she could not understand.
“Ah, well,
that is a famous story here also. Though I will say that perhaps the true message of the story is that she was always a swan. But no matter. The important thing is that you have a choice to make. I personally believe this opportunity is one you should take, one that will be rewarding for you as both a teacher and as a young woman who is trying to find yourself.”
Penny felt herself blushing a bit. For perhaps the first time, though, she felt herself warming to Pietro. Suddenly, he seemed less like a terrible man waiting for her to fail and more like a kind uncle, a man who was interested in her welfare and intent on helping her succeed.
She made her decision and sat up straighter in the chair, nodding.
“All right,” she said decisively. “I'm going to take the job.”
The moment she said it, he beamed in delight, standing up to shake her hand warmly.
“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “I'll have Martella sign all the paperwork. It is up to you whether you want to cut your hours here or simply supplant them with private tutoring.”
“I imagine I'll want to keep my hours,” she said in confusion. “I mean, whatever this pays, it can't be enough to dwarf my salary, can it?”
Pietro laughed a little at that, and she felt a tiny trill of unease run up her spine. For the first time, she wondered what she had gotten into, and whether it would be something she would live to regret.
“I think you might be surprised,” was all he would say, and after that, he would say no more.
They brought the paperwork for her to sign. Penny’s eyes widened as she examined it and saw the amount that was offered. Once Penny signed the paperwork, Martella gave her a smile that seemed surprisingly genuine and warm.
“I hope you will make the most out of this opportunity,” Martella said. “It could be an amazing time for you.”
Penny smiled, and somehow, it did feel as if a door had opened. She could almost feel a fresh breeze coming to pull at the loose tendrils of her hair, urging her to come out and see the world.
Chapter Three
Penny took a deep breath, tugging on her skirt a little. God, when had it gotten so very short?
The advance that she was given for her new tutoring gig had been impressive, large enough that she had decided she needed to give the client what he was after. It wasn't as if his child would appreciate her new emerald green suit and pale cream silk blouse. But surely it would please the child's parents? She could only assume they would approve of their tutor looking her best.
The suit was a risky choice for her. For one reason or another, Penny had always gravitated towards clothes that were a little too big for her. Her dresses and skirts, no matter what she tried, were always a little baggy, and she preferred her sweaters large enough to fit two of her.
The moment she had set foot into the little boutique, however, she could tell that wasn't going to fly. The small, dark woman who had swooped down on her like a little bird had tutted at the shabby dress she was wearing on her day off and ushered her into a brave new world of jewel tones and fitted clothing.
The suit she had ended up buying was off the rack, but then it had been whisked to the back where another woman, nearly identical to the first, had zipped it through a sewing machine. With just a few nips and tucks here and there, it was returned to her, and Penny had been amazed.
Looking into the tri-fold mirror, she had suddenly seen that she had a surprisingly slender waist compared to her hips and bust line. For years, she had thought herself plain and frumpy, but now with just a little bit of tailoring, she could see her own figure much more clearly.
"Bella, bella!" the two women had cried and Penny had blushed, unable to stop herself from smiling. The suit, a fitted skirt and jacket, was pricey enough that she’d winced, but when she’d paid the price, she’d felt like a real adult, someone who went out in the world to make her living.
Of course, she hadn't put the suit back on until the first day of her tutoring job, and that meant she hadn't realized how short the skirt felt until she was on the street in front of the address she had been given.
She tugged her skirt down again, checked to make sure her hair was scraped back and secure in its bun, took a deep breath, then walked forward.
The building was gorgeous, and underneath the modern conveniences lay the bones of an ancient and imperial splendor. She walked between two crouching lion statues to enter the gilded elevator, and as it climbed to the top floor, she wondered all over again what kind of child she was going to be helping tutor. The child, boy or girl, could not be entirely ignorant of English, but they shouldn't be so very advanced, either. It suddenly occurred to her that the child might be an expatriate like her. There was a chance that the child's mother tongue was English, but after years abroad, they were losing it.
That makes sense, she thought with relief. Their parents don't want them to lose their English, and so I am here for reinforcements. They likely want someone who is very well versed in idiom and who can speak naturally as well as correctly.
The elevator halted with a discreet chime, and when she exited it, Penny found herself in a short corridor with only one door in it. She blinked in surprise, but realized this must serve as a penthouse. As she walked down the corridor to knock on the door, she reminded herself that her client was a person of means.
Look sharp, and be as smooth as you can be, she cautioned herself. It sounds like they hired you on a whim, and that likely means they can fire you on one as well...
That was all very good to say, she realized, but at the end of the day, it was just her on the doorstep. She had wished to be less clumsy and less awkward for most of her life, but that had never stopped her from dumping food all over herself or even on other people. Still, there was no harm in trying her best, and after a while, she had to get better, right?
All in all, after she rapped on the door smartly, Penny was feeling fairly self confident. Then the door opened, her jaw dropped, and it felt as if the world had fallen out from under her feet.
***
THE FIRST THING out of the adorable redhead's mouth was, "You!?"
Other men, lesser men, might have been daunted by the less-than-positive opening, but Ziyad grinned. He wondered if a part of him had grown tired of women who calculated every move, who were so self-assured that they were impossible to surprise unless said surprise was a vacation to some diamond-drenched beach, of course.
He gestured for her to come in, and automatically she did so, still looking a little shocked. As she passed him, he was slightly startled to see the change that had come over her. She no longer seemed quite so shapeless or matronly, and his hunger was whetted accordingly.
She gazed around at the luxury of his sitting room, looking very much as if she wanted to flap her hands in surprise and confusion. In that moment, Ziyad thought she looked like an exotic little bird that had been blown off its migratory course.
"I mean...what's going on? You're the one who hired me for tutoring lessons?"
He grinned at her lazily, casually shifting his weight back onto one leg and crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course I am. I saw your skills at the museum, and I was impressed. You handled those children very well, even when you were being...shall we say, distracted?"
"While you were distracting me!" she shot back, and he laughed a little.
"Well, that was fair, bella. But then you have to agree that I had a very clear picture of how well you do under pressure, and it made a favorable impression."
She scowled at him, and for some reason, all he wanted to do was scoop her up and cuddle with her. There was something ridiculously adorable about her, but that was being firmly supplanted by how attractive he found her. Bedding her had been in the back of his mind for a little while, ever since he had started this scheme, but now there was an urgency to it that hadn't been there before.
She opened her mouth as if there were a dozen things she wanted to say, but then she closed it again, apparently thinking better of them. Instead, she s
hook her head and stood up straighter. He noticed with some interest that despite her shining new clothes, she still wore her tattered old shoes, heavy dark things that looked like some kind of grounding prison for someone who was so terribly birdlike.
"All right," she said in a tone that she probably thought of as icy. "I am glad you were impressed, Mr...?"
"Ziyad. Just call me Ziyad. Everyone does." For a moment, he wondered at the marvelous stroke of fate that had brought him to a lovely girl who had no idea who he really was. He figured that eventually it would all come out, but for now he fully intended to enjoy it to the hilt.
"All right, Ziyad," she said, and for some reason, when she said it, he felt a tremor run through him, as if someone had rung a set of silvery chimes or perhaps as if she’d trailed her sharp little nails along his spine.
Now that was certainly an image he would want to revisit later, but for now he had more pressing business. She was asking a question, but he couldn't let the chance to know her a little better go by.
"And what shall I call you?" he asked patiently, and her eyes widened as if she were some kind of spooked horse.
"Well, my students call me Miss Bright..."
"Ah yes, but we are in my home, and I am afraid I must insist on a relaxation of normal social titles," he said smoothly. "I have to deal with it a great deal when I leave the house. You understand."
For some reason, that made a rush of warm understanding come to her face, and she nodded seriously.
"I will of course abide by your needs," she said, her green eyes wide. They weren't completely green, he realized. They were flecked with some other color, perhaps a tiny amount of brown or blue, but then she was looking down again and he wasn't able to satiate his curiosity.
