Mark picked Karen up from her workplace, completely enamored by how easily beautiful she was in her suit. She didn’t have to try so hard like any other lady he knew. Being beautiful was just something she could do with her eyes closed.He called the manager and made a reservation for them at The Spice, an Asian themed restaurant that had just recently opened and serviced only high paying clientele.“Went all out of your way to impress me, huh?” Karen teased Mark as he helped her into a seat before turning around to take his opposite position.“What do they say? You’ve gotta put in some work, right?” He joked with a wink.Their evening went seamlessly well, flowing from topic to topic without ever seeming like too much.“So, how’s work coming?” Mark asked Karen.“Well, I’m still trying to pull the company out of the mess it’s currently in. That’s not been half easy, believe me. But we’re making progress,” she ended with a smile.“You know, if you take up my offer of a loan, you should
Think quick. Bennet wracked his head for any new idea to re-strategize with. Settling for the playboy card, he flashed his most sexy grin at the secretary sitting across from him, letting his voice drop down a few decibels.“Look, honey, I know how hard you work here, because I’ve been down the ladders myself. I know you don’t get appreciated enough for the work you do here,” he paused to see if he was making progress. Her eyes were fixed on the desk as she idly moved her mouse about on the pad. Bennet smiled to himself and continued.“I know you don’t get so much from your job. An angel like you should be pampered and appreciated more often.” He dipped his hand inside his pocket and slipped out a wad of fresh notes, placing them down on the desk before her.She looked up in surprise and looked around her to see if they had an audience.“How soon can I see your boss, darling?” He asked her with a wink.She looked around one more time before hastily picking up the notes and counting th
Bennet climbed into his car, the worn leather creaking beneath him as he settled into the driver’s seat. His heart still raced from the adrenaline of the mission, but a sense of relief washed over him as he pulled out his phone to call Number One. “Mission completed,” he said, his voice firm and confident.The response was curt: “Good. Get the phone out and dial 2008.” Bennet’s brow furrowed as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the dummy phone. He dialed the number, his mind racing with questions. Who was he calling? What was the purpose of this mysterious phone call?The line rang, then cut off abruptly. Bennet’s gut tightened as he spoke into the silence: “Number One? Are you there? What now?” The response was like a slap in the face: “Why don’t you call a photographer for a photoshoot on the premises. Get your bloody ass outta there!”Bennet’s eyes narrowed as he quickly replied “Right,” his mind reeling with confusion and anger. What was going on? Why was Number One
Mark stood beside his father's hospital bed, trying to hide the worry etched on his face. He hadn't mentioned the explosion, hoping to spare his father the stress. But Gabriel's knowing gaze told him otherwise. "I heard about the fire on the news, already," Gabriel said, his voice weak but firm. Mark's jaw clenched, his anger towards the media simmering. "Apparently, they like to lick up after sad news," he bit out. No one seemed to carry his charity projects on the wings of the wind like they did whenever he ran into stumbling blocks like this. Gabriel's expression turned reassuring. "Don't worry about it, son. Everything will be sorted out in due time." Gabriel sat up with an effort, wincing in pain as he moved, and then he cleared his throat and turned to look past Mark. "Sergei, Karen, could you give us some room, please?" He said, his voice weak but authoritative. Sergei and Karen nodded in understanding. "Of course, sir," Sergei replied, his deep baritone voice ironically
Elena was in her room, busily packing her bags, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Mark and their impending reunion. Margaret stood in the doorway, a disapproving look on her face. "Elena, stop being a girl and let go of whatever fantasies you're growing in your head over Mark," Margaret said, her voice firm but laced with concern. Elena's annoyance flared, her eyes flashing with frustration. "He wants me back, Mum," she said, turning to face her mother. Margaret threw her hands up in the air, exasperation etched on her face. "Don't you find that strange? After everything that happened?" Elena stood in her room, contemplating the clothes she would need for her new life at Mark’s house. She thought about the elegant dinner parties and the luxurious lifestyle that came with being a Darius. The idea hadn’t really sat well with her back in Larson’s office, but as she thought about it, she realized it had really been all she could fantasize about in the days when Mark was still a v
Mark drove Karen to a guesthouse in the heart of town, the soft hum of the engine and the gentle rustle of the wind outside a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within him. His father was a co-owner of the business, so it wasn't difficult checking him into a suite, complete with plush carpets and a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Gabriel had advised him to stay low and away from the mansion temporarily, at least, until their enemies got tired of attacking them. As they entered the suite, Karen's hand instinctively reached for Mark's, her touch became a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone in this fight. The tension in his body eased slightly, his grip on her hand tightening as he pulled her close. The events of the past few days replayed in his mind like a haunting melody, the memories of death and destruction still fresh and raw. Karen's gentle voice broke the silence, her words a soft caress on his battered soul. "Mark, you need to rest. You've been through so m
Mark stepped aside, allowing the guard to enter without so much as a glance in his direction. He was struggling to keep his anger in check, his frustration with the constant surveillance simmering just below the surface. He had told his father time and time again that he didn't need the guards, but Gabriel was always insistent. Mark muttered under his breath, "There's no privacy with their lot." The guard remained stationary, his eyes fixed on Mark with a neutral expression. Mark moved over to a wine cabinet in the room, pouring himself a drink as a way to calm his nerves. As he turned back to face the guard, he asked, "And what's your name?" The man's response was curt, "Ghost." Mark's eyebrows raised in amusement, and for a moment, he almost forgot about his anger. The name was fitting, given the guard's stealthy presence, and Mark couldn't help but wonder if it was a nickname or a surname. Mark's eyes narrowed, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Why would a mother give
Bennet sat in his car, still shaken from his recent encounter with Number One. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of being mere inches from death. He thought about how close he had come to being inside the building when the bomb went off. If he had known he was carrying a bomb inside the box he would have never agreed to do the job. But then he always knew there was something inside it. And that thing nearly cost him his life. The mere thought sent chills down his spine. He cursed under his breath, his anger and frustration boiling over. He was determined to get an explanation from Number One, but every time he tried calling, the line wouldn’t connect. His text messages went unanswered, leaving him feeling helpless and enraged. As he sat in the parking lot, his mind wandered to the potential consequences of being linked to the explosion. If Mark Darius had died, it would have been a twisted victory, but Bennet knew he would be in a world of trouble. He had to get in touch with Numb