by C. C. Monö
“I realised I’ve never contemplated how important it is.”
“My father was a powerful businessman,” Izabella began. “He said leaders shape the world we live in. Without them, the world would collapse. Leaders must show their followers what needs to be done, so that the world can continue to evolve.”
She got up and walked to the edge of the pool.
“He told me this when I was six. Two months later, he died of a heart attack.” Izabella sat down and began to splash water with her feet. “Ever since that day, I’ve been determined to become a leader. I don’t want to let others decide my future or the future of this world.”
“I’m sorry,” Axel said after a moment’s silence. “I didn’t know your father died when you were so young.”
Peeking over her shoulder, she gave him a flirtatious smile.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I hardly knew the man.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. He worked a lot.”
Axel found Izabella’s cold approach somewhat disturbing. In fact, most of his fellow students seemed oddly detached from their families and friends. There were a few exceptions. Julie, for example, often talked about her little sister, but most students seldom spoke of their families at all. They complained more about not being able to run their businesses, networks, or newspapers, than they did about being separated from their loved ones.
As if reading his mind, Thabo waved off his masseuse and rolled over onto his back with a grunt.
“My father, the king, is very important to my people. They would be nothing without someone to lead them.”
Axel sat up and stretched.
“Well, my father calls himself a leader but he wouldn’t be much without his employees, would he?”
Paul swigged down the remaining beer and smacked his lips.
“I build visions for you to see,” he began, attempting a bad imitation of Professor Jackson’s, Irish accent. “I inspire all of thee; I motivate so you will follow, I’ll drain our enemies weak and hollow.” He beamed when the others laughed at him. Placing the bottle by his feet he said, “What I mean is that you should ask yourself what your father’s employees would be without him.”
Axel hesitated and watched Arthur as he flew over the pool.
“Before I came here, I read about a company in Sweden. They’re about a hundred employees yet there are no managers. The employees set their own salaries and…”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that,” Ava interrupted with a tone that said she was unimpressed. Waving off her masseuse as well, she got to her feet. “There are other companies like that,” she continued, walking over to Izabella by the edge of the pool. “Some make a big deal about it, claiming it’s a leaderless way to run a business.”
“I think they call it Holacracy,” Julie said.
“So isn’t that interesting,” Axel tried.
Paul shook his head.
“Nah. What people forget is that there’s always a CEO and some informal leaders. Always! All you have to do is search a little and you’ll find him.”
Izabella snorted. “Or her.”
“Of course,” Paul said and raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “It was just a figure of speech. Anyway, you shouldn’t believe everything you read, mate! No matter what some morons say, there’s always someone pulling the strings. There’s always a boss. Always!”
Axel thought about Talk Thirteen. When he and Peter first started the organisation, none of them had talked about management. They had just been a couple of kids wanting to make a difference. Now, in hindsight, if Paul was right, then one of them had to have been the undisclosed manager. But who? Who of the two had had more potential and a higher level of engagement? Who’d played the role of the catalyst, coming up with great ideas? Who’d taken responsibility?
Axel sighed. Hadn’t they both done this? He cracked his knuckles with frustration. Why did he have to make things so complicated? None of the other students did.
CHAPTER 67
“Enough!” Paul stooped over, panting worse than a sumo wrestler on a treadmill. “Can’t breathe.”
Izabella made a face and glanced at the clock behind her.
“Seventeen minutes. Well, at least you’re improving.”
Red and sweaty, Paul dropped the ground and rolled over onto his back.
“You’re…evil!” he wheezed, throwing the racket aside. “You’re making…me run…all over…the place.”
Izabella smiled to herself as she made her way to one of the corners.
“Of course I am. That’s the point of the game, isn’t it?”
“I thought the point…” Paul wheezed a little louder “…was to help me…lose weight.”
“And how are you going to do that if you’re not moving around?” Izabella picked up a bottle of water. “Catch!” The bottle spun through the air and hit Paul right in the gut. He let out a pitiful cry. “God, you’re such a baby sometimes,” Izabella said with a snicker, and took a deep swig from her own bottle.
Paul lay motionless for a moment, then managed to get up into a sitting position.
“I reckon I’ve lost five kilos since we first started playing, but Madame Garon wants me to drop another five before the end of this semester. How am I going to pull that off?” He emptied the bottle and lay back once more. “If I see another salad, I’m going to scream.”
He looked so depressed that Izabella almost felt sorry for him. The guy was struggling. The nearest thing he’d ever come to some sort of exercise was golf, and that was just a lot of walking. Paul hated any form of workout, but loved to eat and drink. It was a rotten combination that had turned him into a freaking marshmallow. Now Madame Garon had put him on a diet with strict orders to exercise at least twice a week. That meant the kitchen wouldn’t serve Paul anything unhealthy, and the E.K.A. sports centre kept a log of all his physical activities.
Izabella sat down on the floor near her bag and leaned against the wall. By the other end of the small court, Paul lay stretched out, very much resembling a red, bloated corpse. The man needed help or he’d never lose enough weight to please the Academy.
“Let’s play three times a week?” she suggested, and snorted when Paul moaned. “Well, you can always go back to the gym with Axel if you prefer. He said he’d help you.”
She knew it was a mean thing to say. Few places made a fat person feel more inadequate than a gym, and many men judged their manliness based on their physical strength and appearance. For Paul, entering the gym with Axel was as cruel as placing a hippo on the racetrack with a stallion.
“Fine, let’s do three days a week,” Paul said. “But I’m not doing it for the reasons you think.”
“Say what?”
Paul rolled over and got up on wobbly legs.
“Never mind.” He picked up his racket and stumbled out into the middle of the court. “Let’s go. Why don’t you make me run around like a headless cock for another ten minutes, so we can call it a day?”
Izabella didn’t move. Paul sighed and dropped his arms to his side.
“Come on, Bella. It was nothing. Let’s just play.”
Izabella didn’t move. With Paul, that was the best strategy. Try this on Thabo and he’d just leave. Axel would ignore her, and Delilah would probably try to hit her. But Paul…he couldn’t stand the silent treatment.
“Stop it,” he growled. “I know what you’re trying to do.” He picked up the ball in defiance and whacked it hard. It struck the wall and bounced all the way back to the opposite wall, coming to a stop just in front of Izabella’s feet. It was a remarkable shot for Paul, and she could tell by his expression that he was surprised himself. Still she remained quiet. “Man! You know you’re bloody annoying sometimes,” he muttered and took a seat next to her. When she didn’t say anything, he made a point of rubbing his forehead with both hands. “Damn it. Can I trust you?”
“Of course not, you can’t trust anyone.”
Paul made a face,
leaning his head against the wall.
“Yeah, I know. Each man for himself, right?”
“Right.” Izabella toyed with her racket. “I am good at keeping secrets though.”
“Sure, until you decide to sell me out.”
“I suppose you’ve got a point.”
She handed him a towel, a gesture he seemed to appreciate, for he flashed her a little smile before wiping his face.
“Well, at least you’re honest.”
“Bah! You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I could be trusted.” That was a lie, of course. Izabella could fool anyone. It was just a matter of knowing what made them tick, and she knew what made Paul tick. “Come on,” she garnered, and gave him a light bump, shoulder against shoulder.
Paul pulled up his legs so he could rest his arms on his knees.
“All right,” he started. “What do you think about Axel?”
For a brief moment, Izabella held her breath.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to know your opinion. What do you think of him?”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Paul picked up the tiny ball and with a groan he got to his feet. “Shall we?”
She stared at him. Then a wide smirk spread across her face and she relaxed. Oh, you sly son of a bitch, she thought. If Paul thought he could trick her into dropping the subject, then he was dumber than he looked.
“Fine,” she said with a smirk. “I find Axel to be…different.”
“In what way?”
“No, no, no. Now it’s your turn. Why don’t you like Axel?”
Paul, the moron, tried to act offended.
“I’ve never said I didn’t like him.”
“Ah, cut the bullshit. You’ve started talking, you might as well follow through.”
Paul glared at her and for a moment Izabella feared he would storm out, but then he shook his head and walked back to her.
“You’re right,” he grumbled and sat down again. “I don’t like the guy. For one, he’s annoying. Worse than a pimple on your ass.”
“Oh, gross.”
“He’s wasting our time. We’ve spent hours listening to him argue with the teachers about nonsense. It gives me the shits. We’re here to become rulers, not philosophers.”
“I hear you, but the Academy has accepted Axel,” she objected. “That means they believe in him, and the Academy is never wrong.”
“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. He’s wasting our time. I’ve talked to a few of the others and they agree. Cordelia and Julie are even considering talking to Professor Jackson.”
Izabella tightened her ponytail and sniffed.
“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. If we can’t handle a fellow student, how are we going to handle a real enemy? Professor Jackson will just laugh in their faces.”
Paul shook his head.
“I’m not so sure about that. I have a feeling some of the teachers are growing tired of his questions as well. I’d tell him if he wasn’t so bloody creepy.”
“Come on. He saved your butt in that bar.”
“Hey, this isn’t something I’m proud of, but the guy gives me the creeps. He’s calm and polite, but there’s…I don’t know. Maybe it’s his eyes or something.”
“You’re such a wimp.” Izabella got to her feet, annoyed that she somehow felt personally offended by Paul’s comment. “Axel’s a harmless little pussy cat. Now, let’s play.”
She walked over to her side of the court, spinning her racket in her hand. Interesting, she thought. So she wasn’t the only one who’d seen it. A sudden chill of sexual arousal shot through her body. It nearly made her gasp. Yes. There was something in Axel’s eyes. Something…powerful.
CHAPTER 68
It was Sunday evening when Miss Davis called from the reception. Axel, dressed in a black E.K.A. sweatsuit, was sitting in his sofa, struggling with Professor Evans’ essay.
“Good evening, Mr Hallman. I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but your friend, Mr Mikael Andersson, left a message. He wants you to call him. It’s nothing urgent, he just wanted to ‘catch up’, as he put it.”
“Thank you Miss Davis. I’ll call him.”
For security reasons, friends and family had to call the E.K.A. reception via a secret number, if they wanted to get in touch with a student. So far, Axel’s parents had called a few times to ensure that their son wasn’t doing anything stupid. Axel’s sister had yet to make her first call but Mikael, on the other hand, called once a week just to see how his friend was doing.
Axel yawned. It was half past nine in the evening and he’d been working for more than two hours straight on his essay. It was time for a break. He was just reaching out for his phone, when the doorbell rang.
Izabella stood with her legs slightly crossed and one hand on her hip. She wore a black tube skirt that snuck around her curved hips like a mermaid’s tail, and a pink silk blouse, unbuttoned at the top.
“I’m back,” she cooed with a coy smile and tilted her head just enough to expose her neck. “May I come in?”
She stepped forward, and the strong scent of her perfume swirled through the door.
“Of course.” Axel moved to the side. “When did you return?”
“About an hour ago. I got you this.” She handed him a small replica of the Statue of Liberty. “I didn’t know what else to get you.”
Axel grinned while turning the souvenir in his hand.
“It kind of reminds me of you when you get fired up during class.”
“Oh, shut up,” she giggled, placing her soft hand on his arm.
He pretended not to notice.
“Would you like something to drink?”
She smiled.
“I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine.”
Ten minutes later, they were sitting in the living room, snuggled in two large armchairs. On the coffee table stood a few burning candles, a bottle of wine and some mineral water. There was also an impressive cheeseboard with various cheeses, fruits and crackers, all brought up from the kitchen minutes before.
“So how was your trip,” Axel asked, although he wasn’t very interested.
Izabella sipped her wine while her right hand twirled a strand of hair.
“It was nice. Thabo was a real bore, though. He doesn’t appreciate shopping or visiting tourist attractions. After a two-hour sightseeing tour, he concluded that New York made him feel depressed and claustrophobic. He said it reminded him of the years he spent at a boarding school outside London.” She paused. “Sounds nuts if you ask me, but hey, people are different.” Without taking her eyes off Axel, she brought her glass to her lips again. Her hand slid down to her cleavage, where she began toying with a gold necklace. “You know…I can’t decide whether your eyes are the colour of mist or steel. I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re almost…hypnotic.”
In an attempt not to stare at her cleavage, Axel put down his glass of water and began rolling up his shirtsleeves. Was it hot in here?
“It’s from my mother’s side,” he said with a casual shrug. “Her grandmother had grey eyes.” He looked up and found she was still watching him. “Do you ever miss your family?” he asked.
She let out a little laugh.
“Sometimes, but I’ve accepted that from now on I’ll have very little time for family and friends. I guess it’s just another sacrifice.”
Axel hid his frustration by turning his attention to the cheeseboard. Another sacrifice? Please! “The greater the leader, the greater his sacrifice,” the professors kept saying, arguing that it was as inevitable as it was honourable. Axel shoved a grape into his mouth and turned to the aquarium while the sweet juice began to tickle his taste buds. Then again, maybe they were right, but if so, what kind of sacrifices would he have to make in order to graduate?
“Jaws.”
Axel swallowed and turned to Izabella who was considering him with playful amusem
ent.
“Huh?”
She leaned forward, taking a grape of her own. He struggled not to look at her breasts.
“My shark,” she said. “I call him Jaws. What do you call yours?”
Axel regarded the creature in his tank.
“I haven’t named him.”
“You’re joking? Everyone else has. Thabo calls his ‘Cape’ after Cape Town. Paul’s is called ‘Devil’, which is a stupid name if you ask me. Edward has named his shark ‘Tank’, and I think Ava calls her shark ‘Bruce’.” She snickered. “Dalilah refers to her shark as ‘The Little Bugger’.”
Axel grinned.
“That’s funny.”
“You see? You have to come up with a name for yours.” She flicked her hair backwards over her shoulder. “How about…Steve?”
Axel let out a laugh.
“I can’t name him Steve.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a ridiculous name for a fish, especially a shark.”
Izabella pouted her lips.
“I thought it was cute. All right, I understand. You want something more manly.” She paused and bit the edge of her lower lip while she gave it some thought. “How about Arrow? He’s slick as an arrow. Or maybe Killer…no Butcher…yeah, Butcher’s a great name, don’t you think?”
Axel winced.
“You know what, ‘Steve’ is fine.”
Izabella giggled.
“I like sharks. They’re so powerful.” She got to her feet and walked her well-shaped figure over to the tank, wineglass still in her hand. “They…” She hesitated and began tracing a finger over the aquarium glass. “There’s intensity in their eyes,” she whispered and turned. In the warm candlelight, she watched him while her thumb and index finger began stroking the stem of her glass. “You have it too.”
Her hand slipped down to her cleavage again where it found her necklace. This time, he let his eyes follow her movement until he saw the edge of her white-laced bra. For a moment, there was nothing in the world but the sound of a fire burning in the hearth, the golden light, and Izabella’s inviting bosom.
