Pale Stranger, New Adult Romance (PALE Series)

by Mac Flynn

CHAPTER 9

  "So have an exciting time at the library?" Benson asked me the next day.

  I shrugged. "Not really. Just read some books, met a guy after an assassination attempt, and started a library-wide brawl that ended in three concussions, a lot of broken chairs, and even more broken fingers." He blinked at me in bewilderment, and I shrugged. "All right, maybe I exaggerated the number of concussions, but the fight did spread to most of the floors of the library."

  "You met a guy?" he slowly repeated.

  I rolled my eyes; that would be the one thing he'd pick up on. "Yeah, he caught me before I fell backwards on the stairs."

  "He must have left an impression on you to mention him," he quietly commented.

  "Well, he did save me from the floor making an impression on me," I pointed out.

  I noticed Benson was stiff. "No doubt good-looking."

  As evil as it sounds, I had a hard time not snickering; Benson was jealous. "I'm afraid so."

  "Tanned and intelligent?"

  "Right on both accounts. He is a college student, after all."

  "That doesn't imply intelligence," he countered.

  I folded my arms across my chest and frowned. "So what am I, chopped liver?"

  "You're my Angel, but today you need to be my chauffeur, too," he replied.

  "Your chauffeur?" I had to make sure I heard him right; he was actually going away from the house, and only for the second time since I'd met him.

  He nodded. "Yes, I need to go to my business to attend a very important meeting." He pulled out an address with directions. "This is where we need to go. Do you need any other instructions?"

  I shook my head; I knew the city much better than the country. "Nope, this'll work just fine. It's just a few blocks from my campus."

  "Good. Let's get me ready for the trip."

  We went through the sunblock ordeal, but he didn't try to ravish me. I was disappointed, but he was distracted by this meeting and only wanted to hurry to the city. He dressed in his black attire and led me through the side door of the kitchen and under the thick canopy that led to the garage. Inside was a black car with the rear windows heavily tinted and a dividing glass between the front and the back. "We can communicate via intercom," he explained to me.

  "And here I thought I'd have to learn Morse code," I teased. Things must have been serious because his stoic face didn't crack a smile. He slid into the back and I slipped behind the wheel, noticing first that there was a tag over the rearview mirror that denoted a handicapped person on board. That must have been how he got away with having such darkly tinted windows.

  I drove out of the garage and onward to victory, which in this case was not getting lost and stuck in traffic for an hour. I followed the instructions to the letter and we arrived at a broad, forty-story tall office building. I drove around back to a parking garage and found his spot; it was prime real estate at the front closest to a side entrance of the building. I parked the car and, since I didn't know how to use the com system, knocked on the glass. "We're there," I called to him.

  I heard his door open, and I hurriedly stepped out. With a briefcase in hand Benson looked like a real businessman, if a businessman was trying to imitate the invisible man. Without a word he led me to the side door and into the building. We entered the lobby, but there was a ninety-degree partition that hid us from prying eyes. Close at hand was a private elevator which had a sign beside the doors; For Official Use Only. I felt pretty official when Benson called the elevator to us and we stepped inside. This wasn't your normal, metal-walled elevator, either; it had soft padding and no annoying music. The doors closed behind us and Benson tapped the number for the top floor.

  The elevator sped up, but I left my heart on the first floor; I admit I was nervous in this strange, foreign environment with this strange man as my sole guide. I jumped when Benson broke the silence by talking. "What?" I asked him.

  "I asked if you were nervous, but that answered my question well enough," he replied. He wasn't teasing in his tone; it was more filled with pity and a need to give me comfort. "There's a reception room outside the boardroom. You can sit there if you'd like."

  "Can I stay in your office?" I pleaded.

  He shook his head. "I don't have time to show you the way."

  I sighed. "Then I guess I'll stay in the reception room."

  The elevator hit our floor and we stepped off into a long hall that stretched off to our right, but didn't go very far to our left because the elevator was so close to the outer wall of the building. On the opposite wall were a pair of inset doors flanked on either side by a pair of tall palms. There were other elevator doors to our right and along the same wall, and from these emerged about two dozen men and women in suits. At so many intimidating faces and voices, I inched behind Benson. Three men broke off from the herd and came over to greet Benson. "Good morning, Benson," one of them jovially greeted. He was a man of about forty with thinning hair and a bright smile. Benson didn't outstretch his hand, but the man took his hand and shook it anyway.

  "Good morning, Truman," Benson returned after he'd extracted his hand from the man's jovial greeting. Benson nodded at the other two, a swarthy man of fifty and tall, lanky man of thirty-five. "Schuster, Rowland." They smiled and nodded in return.

  Truman slipped closer and lowered his voice. "Quite a mess we've got here, isn't it?" Being so close to Benson, he caught sight of me. His eyes widened and his face lit up with joy. "My, my, who have we here? Benson, introduce we old fogies to your lovely companion."

  I dug my heels into the carpeted floor when Benson reluctantly dragged me out into the open. "Gentlemen, this is Miss Calhoun." His gloved hand swept over the men. "Misters Truman, Schuster, and Rowland." They smiled and shook hands with me, and I nodded and shook back with as much energy as I could muster considering how badly I was shaking. "She is my new secretary for the present, as my other left me rather suddenly."

  Truman chuckled. "You mean to say you fired her," he corrected Benson.

  "The parting was mutual," Benson countered. At that moment the double doors opened, and the crowd of suits flowed into the inner room which I saw to be the promised waiting room. Benson gestured to the other men. "It seems the meeting will begin soon. After you, gentlemen," he invited.

  They joined the herd and hurried inside, but Benson kept at the rear and let everyone go ahead of us. We stepped into the inner sanctum and found ourselves facing another open pair of doors. Through those was a large meeting table with many high-backed, cushioned chairs. Everyone filed into that room, but some paused to speak with a few secretaries on the left who sat at large, wooden desks. I noticed a long, padded bench on the right side with a few palms on either end. "You can sit there while we talk, but this may take a while."

  "It'd definitely be more comfortable than the car," I countered.

  "You could go for a walk," he suggested.

  I plopped myself down and managed a smile. "I probably shouldn't. I'd be tempted to spend my food money on more shoes I don't need."

  "That can be taken care of." He dug out his wallet, but I waved him off.

  "I'll be fine, just go in there and try not to let them eat you alive," I joked.

  He didn't smile, but he did put his wallet back. "I send you out as sheep among the wolves..." he murmured.

  I blinked. "Beg your pardon?"

  Benson shook his head. "Nothing, just quoting from an old book. Hopefully I'll see you soon."

  He stepped into the large meeting room beyond the double doors, and they were shut behind him. The clang of the latch was ominous to my ears, and I turned away to find the secretaries staring at me. They quickly looked away when I caught them, but that didn't make me feel any easier. I slid close to a large palm plant to hide myself from their prying eyes, and was doubly grateful for the protection when the doors to the hall opened and a couple hurriedly stepped inside. I was also surprised to s
ee one of them, the woman of the two, was Constance Sievers; she sure got around in this company. The pair stopped a few feet from my hiding position, and Sievers handed the man his briefcase. "Good luck, sir," she spoke up with a smile. I'd never seen her smile before; it was like looking at a grinning crocodile.

  The man smiled back. "All I need is you, Miss Sievers," he sappily replied. I resisted my gagging reflex. The two parted, with the man stepping into the boardroom and Miss Sievers leaving the way they'd come.

  Then came the long wait. The boredom was punctuated by loud voices from the boardroom, most notably from Truman. I strained to hear Benson, just to give me a sign he was still alive in there and not eaten alive, but there was nothing until the doors opened after two hours. The men and women filed out like robots, reminding me why I chose not to get an office job. I noticed the strange man from before, the one with Sievers, and his grin was even wider than when he'd entered. He was flanked on all sides by admirers, both men and women, and all their tones were jolly.

  Behind them came Benson, sans hat, Truman, and the other two. Their faces were somber and Truman spoke to Benson in a hushed voice. "I'm sure we can figure something out, or perhaps this arrangement won't be as inconvenient-"

  Benson whirled around to face the man. "This will be very inconvenient to me. You know I prize my privacy above all else," Benson snapped back.

  Truman sighed. "And that may be how this came to pass. You weren't at the helm as you used to be."

  Benson narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying?"

  I felt sorry for Truman; he looked like a man trying to tap dance on the edge of a pool of piranhas. "I'm trying to suggest you spend more time attending to your work here, rather than at your home."

  "You know that's not possible for me," Benson countered.

  Truman gestured to his person. "But you are here, and very well-looking, might I add. Maybe we have that young lady to thank for this small improvement." Truman's friendly eyes settled on me in my hiding spot.

  Benson sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and put on his hat. "Whether I am here or there, we are stuck with that man as a new partner. Our only hope is his ambition is quenched."

  Truman mournfully shook his head. "I very much doubt such a man's ambitions can ever be quenched."

  "Call me if you hear any news about him," Benson requested.

  Truman nodded. "Certainly. It was a pleasure seeing you again, rather than speaking over the phone." They cordially shook hands, and Benson repeated the formality with the other two. The three passed by, each with a kind nod toward me, and I was left alone with my boss. He looked exhausted; his gaunt face had traces of sweat and his hands shook.

  I jumped up and smiled at him. "Ready to go home?"

  He shakily smiled. "You read my thoughts, Angel."