Prototype

by Gretchen de La O

  “My name is Alejandro Fernandez. You must be Mrs. Matthews.” His Spanish accent and sensuous tone betrayed my instincts. Hypnotized by his frothy green eyes that danced when he spoke my name; thoughtlessly words instantly stumbled across my lips.

  “It’s Miss. I’m not married.”

  Confused by the feeling he evoked in me, everything within me screamed that he was dangerous. My head shuffled around techniques to protect myself while my heart bounced weightless in my chest.

  “Oh, my mistake, I just assumed—you are such a beautiful woman.” I leaned toward him in a trance; my hand still delicately placed in the warmth of his grasp. I pulled myself together, unhinged from his trance and didn’t let him pull me into his game.

  Pressure swelled in the gash under my right eye as blood rushed to my cheeks. I realized that I hadn’t looked at myself since the fight with Sam; I wondered if I had a black eye or if dry blood colored my face.

  “Samantha, I hope your flight was—comfortable.” Alejandro addressed her as he continued to gaze at me; his sultry eyes shuffled between mine.

  “Everything was fine, Alejandro, thanks,” she countered him, pushing toward the other side of the cab. My heart skipped as he dropped his eyes from mine. He tilted his head toward her, his eyes peering across the taxi as his voice was filled with poignant and precise demands.

  “Samantha, leave Miss Matthews with me. There’s a car waiting for you and Marshall.”

  For a brief moment it crossed my mind that she was going to stay, but our eyes met and I could see that she was relieved. I pulled her forward and unbuckled my belt from around her wrists. Without a word, she stretched to get her stilettos and was out the door. I watched her through the back window, making her way past my mother’s car into a waiting limousine. Did I just let the one person go that could have saved me from something worse than death?

  People say that your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. For me it was thoughts of how I was going to die that ran through my mind. Images of my body in the bay, or a bullet in my head kept filling the gaps of silence that crowded the back seat. I could feel Alejandro staring at me, waiting to make eye contact again.

  “May I call you Lauren?” he asked while he raised two fingers and motioned for the taxi driver to return to the car. His eyes clung to mine, unhinging and twisting everything I was trained to do; I could feel the effect he had on me. He had a chemistry I was trained to snuff out and wipe away so my body wouldn’t react and my mind wouldn’t bend to his cleverness.

  I’ve seen his type before and have dealt with them so often that I almost could tell what he was going to say next. First he’ll attempt to win my loyalty with his charm and etiquette and then he will try and seduce me with his sensual words. It’s not going to happen.

  “Sure, Lauren is fine,” I answered in a controlled and uninterested tone. One thing was for sure … I couldn’t let him win me over.

  “Lauren, who did this to you?” he asked as his hand tenderly pushed into my hair and his thumb brushed back and forth under the gash in my cheekbone.

  I didn’t answer, I shook my head as uncertainty flooded my body … I was losing.

  “Shame on whoever hurt you. Beauty like this should be cherished, taken care of, pleased,” he answered, shaking his head before looking at the cabbie. “Head toward North Beach,” he told the driver and I felt the taxi pull forward.

  My heart lodged in the back of my throat; we were heading straight to the area I grew up.

  Memories spun like a torrent through my mind and how my life was back then when my concentration splintered by Alejandro.

  “Marshall, take Sam to your hotel. Tell Lauren’s mother that her daughter is … with me. We just have some business we must handle. I will make sure she is returned to her hotel.” He switched the phone to his other ear as he stared at my pale face. I hung on every word he spoke. His expression became hard and he pressed his lips until they drained to a pale line. After a moment of wondering what was being said, his demeanor changed and he spoke with an innocence I could only compare to a young boy’s need for acceptance.

  “Hello, Mrs. Matthews. My name is Alejandro Fernandez—oh—I see—my deepest apologies—remarried—oh, I see—Mrs. Wilson. Yes I am with your daughter.” He stopped speaking and his face became soft as his eyes widened. “Yes ma’am—I understand—I will make sure.”

  What was she saying? All at once my neck grew fiery hot. Flashes of my childhood crowded the space between the words that wrapped my stomach in knots and the moment he pulled the phone from his ear and handed it to me.

  “Your mother is demanding that she speak to you.” His sexy tone kept me blushing. I wasn’t prepared for him to use my mom to get to me. It was brilliant on his part and completely unfair.

  I grabbed the phone knowing I had to sound like I was okay. Last thing I needed was for her to become totally unglued with me.

  “Hi, Mom, I’m sorry I forgot to call you back.”

  “You should be. I was worried; you should have called me. I haven’t seen you in over a year and you pull this?” Her voice rang loud in my ear.

  “Mom—stop—please—I’m okay.” I spoke between clutched teeth.

  “I thought I was picking you up? You called me, remember?”

  “Yeah, I know, I’m really sorry.” I tried to calm the storm I knew she was about to create.

  “It’s a good thing you have friends like Marshall. He told me about your meeting with Alejandro.” I could hear the anticipation in her voice.

  “Yeah, he’s a good friend.” Fear grappled with my heart and clawed its way to my throat. A friend that better not harm my mom.

  “It’s about time you started dating again. It’s been so long since— I love you and miss you so much.” I could hear her voice crack; she was starting to cry. How did Marshall know that dating would be the only excuse my mom would accept?

  “I miss you too! Don’t cry, Mom. I’ll call you before I head over to your place,” I told her quickly before I said more than I should.

  “You better,” she answered.

  “I’ve gotta go. I love you.” I hurried my speech. I could have gone all week without hearing about the lack of dating in my life.

  “Love you too, honey! Bye.”

  “Bye,” I ended.

  I couldn’t keep the insecurities I felt as a teenage girl from rising in my chest when I handed him the phone.

  “Sorry.” The word tumbled from my mouth without thinking.

  “Please don’t apologize. I respect her concerns. She’s a smart woman.” He was amused by the exchange that we shared with the one person I had always kept in the dark about my life.

  “Lauren, we have a lot to discuss; but first, why did you refuse my car? It’s more comfortable than this and we could have a lot more privacy.” He was charming with a hint of irritation brewing just under the surface.

  Chastised by a man I just met for refusing his limo was ludicrous. Even if a lump formed in the back of my throat when he spoke, I was a highly trained field agent for the CIA; I should have known how to handle the situation. I swallowed, took a deep breath and pulled myself together.

  “My mother wanted to pick me up. I haven’t seen her in a while. She insisted.” I had no problem spitting out the truth, even if it was a half-truth.

  “Oh, that’s it? I see. Well, I am sorry that didn’t go as you hoped,” he said as he looked away and focused his attention to the driver.

  “Pull over here,” he demanded. His body moved in a sweeping motion toward the door. My chest tightened as stress radiated up through my shoulders and perched in my jaw.

  “My car is just up here,” he insisted as the taxi parked at the curb and a man in a tuxedo pulled open his door.

  What was I going to do? I knew the percentage of women that lived through a situation like this wasn’t a high number. Alejandro collected my carryon, handing it to his driver, and slid his perfectly groomed body out the door. />
  Alejandro, debonair in his manners, turned and offered his hand to me. I hesitantly grasped it and carefully exited. The sharp searing pain from Samantha kicking me flared across my side. A small part of me was grateful to be out of the taxi; however, I was defensive because I still didn’t know what he wanted. My head told me he had ulterior motives, while my heart battled fiercely and won.

  He walked behind me as we made our way to an eye-piercing white stretched limousine with pitch black windows. Desperate to know if he had other plans for me, I slowed my stride to be even with him. He brought his hand to my back, urging me to keep my steps slightly ahead. The driver opened the door and stood there waiting for me to get in. I turned to Alejandro and at that point, I knew my choice was made for me. I got in and he followed closely behind. The soft black leather seat gave way as my hands manipulated my way in. The partition between us and the driver was made of black smoked glass with the metallic, masculine shaped letters S I centered perfectly in the middle. I slid my body next to the door on the other side, taking advantage of the space available.

  He snatched a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and filled two glasses that were intentionally set out on the dark mahogany table.

  “Please have some. I know we are not celebrating anything.” He paused and whispered, “Yet.” I took the glass he held toward me and drank. I hoped the pain in my ribcage that came at me in waves would subside with the champagne.

  “Home,” Alejandro told the driver. His attention shifted to me.

  “I think we will be more comfortable there; I hope you don’t mind,” he said, his body crowding the space next to me.

  “Do I have a choice?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” he pressed.

  I knew someone with his reputation wouldn’t really give me a choice, but was smooth enough to make it look like he did.

  “Where do you live?” I asked solid. A question I knew the answer to, but figured I would keep my head focused on details and information.

  “Twenty-nine oh one Vallejo Street,” he stated. Flashes of my new driver’s license appeared in my head. It was the address on the license that Marshall had given me.

  I wanted to get my hands on it, but I was going to have to wait. My carryon was in the trunk of the limo. I prayed he couldn’t read my expression as he studied the contours of my face. I pushed the vision away and kept questioning him.

  “Nice area, Pacific Heights. How long have you been there?” The conversation had to stay generic, because every time I looked at him, a craving would well in my body and I would lose my train of thought.

  “You are very inquisitive for someone who is in a compromising position.”

  “Compromising position?” I asked.

  “Well, you are an extremely beautiful woman, who has something I am very interested in and you are here … alone with me in the back of my car.”

  “I have people who know where I am and will track my every move.”

  “Well, then, I’d better be the gentleman I was raised to be. I’ve lived in Pacific Heights for several years.” His earthy green eyes raked leisurely up my body. There was a slight lull before he continued. “Lauren, I have to confess to you.” I watched his eyebrows furrow as he paused.

  My heart fell with a strong thump. I eyed him anxiously waiting for the confession. What would this powerful, heart-stopping man want to confess to me? “Confess?”

  “Yes, dare I say, I’m already confessing. After the way Marshall spoke about you last week, my curiosity got the best of me,” he declared as he moved toward me.

  Normally my reaction would be to honor his personal space and back away; however, this wasn’t normal and I couldn’t find the space where he began and I ended. I desperately searched for the right words to push him away … any excuse to look in another direction … I needed an out and every justification I had abandoned me in my search. I drew in a breath to ask him about his curiosity just as his aroma captured me.

  “What did Marshall say that left you so, curious?” The question rolled uncontested across my tongue.

  “Now, Lauren, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly like.”

  “Really? And why not?” I said baiting him.

  “Because certain conversations are better kept right where I decide they should stay.” His eyelids lowered as he teasingly smiled and tapped his hand across his chest.

  Stop! This was crazy! What in the hell am I doing? Why am I being so ridiculous? This can only lead to trouble.

  “You’re right, it’s better left unsaid.” I tore my eyes from his and sat back into the plush black leather seat. I needed to end this before it led to something more serious.

  “Have I done something?” he asked sincerely as he grabbed the champagne from the ice and filled my empty glass. Commanding in his words, but delicate in his actions, he suddenly became anxious.

  “No,” I answered, fidgeting.

  “Have I offended you?” He worked to catch my sight.

  “No, you’ve been very … accommodating.” I brought my eyes to meet his.

  “Accommodating … hmmm, a word beautiful women use after they’ve been disappointed.” His eyes cased my face, his lips, full of a moment I’d like to experience. I could feel his desperation trying to figure me out. God, he was good. I was beginning to become uncomfortably warm below my belly.

  “Tell me, Lauren, what is it?” He put his drink down. I could feel the air shift between us as he brought his hand toward my face. I had to talk before he touched me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked feeling the pressure of the question leap off of my chest. Silence fell between us before he spoke.

  “Well, it seems I am answering an awful lot of questions you feel necessary to ask me,” he answered perplexed.

  “No, not that … what are your plans for me … what are you going to do with me?” The words tumbled from my mouth.

  “You’ve just flown across the country to meet with me. I figured you would be tired and hungry, so I would like to make you dinner at my home where I thought you would be more comfortable. Unless, you prefer to go out?” he asked.

  I know how to read individuals. My job requires it. As a matter of fact, I am very good at figuring out motivation and what drives people. How is it that he had me questioning my reading more into his hospitality than there was? I was tired, done from the flight and fighting Sam. Maybe he was just trying to make me feel comfortable.

  The snow-colored limo came to a stop and I could feel the need to eat stir in my belly. Before anything, I still needed to contact Roger and tell him I was okay.

  “I’m sorry, you are very kind, but I think I should go to my hotel,” I mumbled.

  “Let me make you dinner.” His body language was asking as much as his words were. He leaned toward me to anticipate my answer. I just kept the thoughts of the mission in my mind. I had a job to do; my mark just so happened to be a god from Spain. I inhaled on the thought of his offer and closed my eyes as I tried to brush away the endorphins that surged in my body.

  “We’re already here. Come in, have dinner with me. That’s it, and then I will take you to your hotel.” He looked at me, his eyes begging and his lips pouting. Every womanly part of my body was pleading with me to say yes, while my mind diplomatically tried to quiet the riot.

  “I don’t think that’s a good—”

  “Just dinner … I promise,” he interrupted.

  “… idea,” I finished. “Why?” he questioned seriously.

  “Well, for one, your interest in … the prototype and Marshall.”

  “What does that have to do with me having dinner with a beautiful woman I want to get to know?”

  “See there you go, making me uncomfortable.”

  “Well, then maybe I shouldn’t compliment you?”

  His eyes burned through my skin, taking me in with every breath he drew. Silence poured between us as he watched me squirm under his watch. His eyes begged me to stay, his pout rose to a
smirk.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t,” I rebutted.

  “Fine, it’s settled; you will eat what I cook, and I won’t say another nice thing about you,” he insisted.

  “Is that a promise?” I exhaled.

  “Are you agreeing to dinner with me?” His grin lit up his eyes. Oh, holy hell, what am I doing?

  “Fine, I’ll stay for dinner,” I grumbled.

  “Then I promise to keep my compliments to myself,” he retorted, smiling.

  “Perfect.” At least until I lock myself in your bathroom and freshen up from the Samantha fiasco.

  His house matched the expectation and Alejandro refined my mental picture. It was nice to be in a house that radiated wealth, but exhibited a reserved extravagance. Moderation seemed to be the theme that united each room. He was still tied to his humbled beginnings and frustratingly enough, I found it highly sexy.

  Right now sexy didn’t own me. I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about my face and how bad it probably looked. My body betrayed me as a shiver thrust itself down my spine and Alejandro noticed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine; I’d just like to freshen up a bit. It’s been a pretty trying day. Which way to the bathroom?” I asked, pointing toward the hall and the kitchen.

  “Absolutely, you can use the one off of the kitchen. Through that doorway and to the left.”

  After I closed the bathroom door, I immediately peered at my face in the mirror. I noticed the gash across my face was already starting to heal. Shocked by how fast my face was healing, I pulled my shirt up and inspected my side. The wounds across my hip and ribcage appeared to be healing quickly too. I finished cleaning up and returned to the kitchen.

  Alejandro watched me as I sauntered back from the bathroom and I found myself liking it. Cleaned up and feeling much better, it was the way his eyes dipped across my body and his teeth collected his bottom lip that created a frenzy in my belly.

  “After dinner, I will show you the rest of the house.” He plucked a wine glass from the cabinet and filled it half way with red wine before he pushed it across the marble island that separated us. His hand slid back off and into his pleasing jet-black hair, pulling my body with it. It must have been his way of telling me to sit.