Taken by the Billionaire (20 page)

“What the… Sarah, look at this!”

I sat down next to him and looked at the screen.

“Your brother really used a regular online checking account for millions of bucks?” I asked incredulously, staring at the red and white diamond logo at the top of the page. He used a bank that even
I
had panned due to its poor interest rates.

“My brother was a bigger idiot than even I am, but I was actually referring to this particular transfer” said Peter, and he pointed at the column of transactions.

The account showed a fifteen million dollar deposit late last night, followed minutes later by a two million dollar transfer out to a Russian account. Sergei had tagged it as “Services Rendered” in the category panel.

A horrible thought struck me as I suddenly remembered the conversation I’d overheard while bound to the table.

“Peter… what time is your mother’s arbitration hearing at the U.N?”

He looked up at me, and his eyes grew wide as he realized where my question was leading.

Her hearing was at 4:30 PM.

“Shit!”

Peter leapt up from the floor, grabbed the laptop, and raced for the front door. As he slammed the the laptop’s lid shut, I saw a tiny, brown box sitting on the coffee table behind him.

“Wait, Peter! You forgot… oh never mind,” I called after him, and then gave up. Whatever it was, it could wait. I grabbed my suitcase and bolted after him, and by the time I’d fumbled with the keys and locked the front door, Peter had already started his sleek black Mercedes and was revving the engine impatiently.

“We have to get to the U.N,” he called out as I leapt into the passenger seat, and he pulled away from the curb and into traffic as I swung the door shot.

The dashboard clock read 4:08 PM as we weaved in and out of lanes, dodges around cars, and raced through traffic toward the Queensboro Bridge in a manner that would have gotten any
normal
person either killed or arrested. We had to get back into the city, and we needed to get back in record time.

****

“Sir, you can’t go in without a meeting or press pass. You can sign up for tours online or get tickets at… oof!”

Peter slugged the U.N guard blocking the door, and the unfortunate man crumpled to the ground.

“Peter! What’s wrong with you?” I cried out, aghast, as I chased after him into the lobby of the shining, glass-fronted building. “Are you insane?”

“Find my mother!” he shouted back, ignoring my questions, and he pointed at a map of ongoing hearings projected on the west wall as two more guards raced out to stop him.

I ran up and frantically searched through the map for any sign of Anneke.

Ibramovic… Ibramovic… not here!

There was nothing on the map with her name at all. Were we at the right place? The U.N owned tons of property in New York City; she could be at any of them!

My eyes suddenly latched onto a name I recognized. “Gazprom Arbitration Hearing.”

That’s it! That had to be it! She had a stake in the Russian gas and oil industry, and she’d mentioned it being the Russian government that had a problem with her selling her shares to Ukranian investors.

Dag Hammarskjöld Library Auditorium…

“She’s in the main auditorium!” I shouted back to him, not even bothering to try to pronounce its real name.

When I spun around, Peter was already racing down the hall. All three security guards lay on the ground, knocked out cold.

“What the… maybe the U.N really
can’t
do anything right,” I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief, and I bolted down the hall after Peter.

Anneke stood alongside a U.N. speaker in front of a roomful of dour-looking politicians and oil executives. The speaker glanced up just briefly at the commotion we were causing as we raced down the stairs toward the floor, and then he returned to delivering Anneke’s prepared speech on her behalf. The arbiter sat at a table to Anneke’s left, taking notes on the speech and occasionally looking up at her and the opposing Russian envoy in the seats above.

Just before Peter made it out onto the main floor, three more guards caught up to him and tackled him all at once. He struggled against them on the floor, screaming bloody murder, but they quickly handcuffed his wrists behind his back and incapacitated him.

“Let go of me! My mother is in danger!” he shouted at the top of his lungs as he struggled futilely against the handcuffs. The entire hearing stopped in its tracks, and everyone stared nervously at the perceived lunatic being held down by security.

All eyes were on Peter… and no eyes were on me whatsoever.

Nobody was paying attention to me at all, and I kept walking straight past the crowd of security guards, stepped over the divider out onto the presentation floor, and walked slowly toward Anneke.

Okay… now what?

Anneke glanced up at me in confusion, and then I saw the glowing red dot slowly moving up her chest and steady out in the middle of her head.

I sprinted toward her. Security had finally noticed me, but it was too late now. I leapt onto the old woman and knocked her to the ground with me on top of her.

No sooner did we hit the ground than I heard the deafening blast of gunfire from across the auditorium. Wood paneling splintered and crunched behind us as the assassin’s bullet missed and instead embedded itself in the wall.

I dragged Anneke behind the podium and held tightly to her, keeping her out of sight as best I could. A second bullet shattered a wooden panel in the podium two feet above our heads and rocked my mind with fear.

Anneke hadn’t heard the gunfire, but she’d felt the impact of the bullet behind her and felt the flying wooden splinters from the ruined podium. She looked up at me wide-eyed, realizing that I’d just saved her life, but instead of staying behind me like I’d planned, though, she pushed me behind her and tried to shield
me
from the shooter.

I shook my head at her and tried to push her behind me again, but she shot me a furious glare and refused to budge.

I glanced around the edge of the podium at the sound of shouting just in time to see several more security guards in the dim upper mezzanine descend on a dark figure with a rifle and drag him to the ground.

The U.N arbiter stared first up at the mezzanine and then back down at the Russian envoy in the front row with a look of complete disgust on his face. He’d completely misread the situation.

“I think that, owing to a
murder attempt
, we’re done with this case,” he called out, and he slammed his gavel. “Ruling in favor of Anneke Ibramovic. The sale is hereby approved.”

****

Like plenty of other people every year, I spend New Year’s Eve coming up with resolutions and future achievements for the upcoming year. Like most of those other people, I typically fail at all of my goals by the first of February.

I’ve had a lot of high hopes and impossible dreams over the nearly thirty years of my life, but I can tell you one thing right now:

Never in my life would I
ever
have predicted that I’d get a heroine’s welcome on the island of Korčula.

Word of the assassination attempt on Anneke Ibramovic—and of me saving her life—arrived in Vela Luka before we did, and I might as well have been a child of the village based the cheering and applause as we drove slowly through the gathered crowds in town, up toward Anneke’s cliff-side estate.

An errant roll of toilet paper even managed to make it through the open window of Anneke’s white limousine and hit Peter in the head. He took it rather well, I might add, though my refusal to stop kissing him for most of the ride may have had something to do with that.

The servant girl, Katrina, whisked away to my guest room almost immediately upon arrival that evening. Even though dinner tonight was in my honor, I still had to dress appropriately for it, and when she led me up the stairs and into the bedroom, I could barely keep from giggling in delight as she revealed the outfit she’d selected.

Katrina had retrieved and cleaned my gorgeous black and gold-trimmed evening dress that I’d abandoned when I left Peter behind. The gold lace and embroidery sparkled in the dim evening light as I readied myself in front of the mirror. By the time Katrina was finished helping me with my hair and had tracked down my shoes—one of which had been lodged behind the bed—and the onyx and gold accessories to my dress, I was smiling from ear to ear.

I loved this dress! I wasn’t usually the sort to fall in love with an outfit—I so seldom had enough money lying around to go buying clothes in the first place—but this dress was the exception for me. It fit me perfectly, accentuated my curves perfectly, and had the perfect effect on Peter as well; I’d already seen
that
part in action. Somehow, this dress was the perfect combination of high class and beautiful functionality. I looked damned good in it, but I didn’t look like I was trying to pretend I was something more than I truly was. I was still Sarah, just Sarah looking her absolute best.

“You take good care of Peter now, okay?” whispered Katrina as she closed the clasp of my necklace. “That man, he is very spoiled. You fix him, and he will be
perfect
for you.”

“I’m working on it,” I whispered back, winking at her in the mirror. My face turned bright red as the girl leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you for taking care of Anneke,” said the shy girl, smiling brightly, and she bolted out of the room.

If there was a type of fish in the sea that I hadn’t eaten before, I’d eaten it by the time dinner was done. Anneke’s chef had let his imagination rule the night and brought forth six courses of stunning Mediterranean seafood, each different in style from Le Bernardin but easily equal in quality. Magnificent caviars over seared bonito, succulent sea urchins, crabs stuffed with unidentifiable but delicious fillings… I was in seafood heaven tonight.

In spite of the warm welcome and the wondrous food, I still felt tense sitting at the dinner table. Something was eating away at the back of my mind, bothering me, nudging me to act on… whatever it was. I didn’t actually know what I was worried about!

It hit me five minutes later when Anneke’s wait-staff brought out pomegranate gelato with crushed hazelnuts and chocolate shavings on top…

This wasn’t my world, and eventually the dream would have to end.

Sooner or later, I would have to go back to New York and get back to my apartment. I still had a rent bill to pay, and I’d need to go back to work if I wanted to pay it. What was I going to do about work now? Would I still work for Peter? I didn’t know where I stood in the world anymore!

Would Peter still want to be with me now that his mother was safe? Surely he’d end up with someone more at his level, someone who wouldn’t… well… be a financial drain on the family. I was a lower middle-class girl from Astoria, and he was a billionaire. I couldn’t really have a future with him. How could he
not
leave me?

I hoped it didn’t come to that, but as dinner progressed and a second dessert arrived—this time frozen, caramelized-exterior bananas in some type of powerful, lime-flavored alcoholic drink, brown sugar around the rim of each glass—I’d managed to worry myself into a nervous wreck.

I almost leapt out of my chair when Anneke tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention.

“Can I have a word with you for a second?” she signed, and she pointed out at the balcony. Nobody else at the table could understand our sign language, but whatever it was that she wanted to tell me, she wanted it to be alone.

I nodded and excused myself from the table.

Anneke leaned against the balcony railing and looked out at the setting sun. It cast a brilliant gradient across the sky from the fiery orange horizon to dark purple overhead.

“Thank you again for saving my life, Sarah,” she signed. “I cannot possibly thank you enough. There aren’t enough years left in me to do it justice.”

“I owed you one after Sergei kidnapped me, remember?” I signed back. “You told me I could make it up to you next time
you
were in danger.”

She smiled and nodded as she remembered her comment. She’d thought she was kidding just as much as I had. It had never crossed either of our minds that she might actually still be in danger.

“Just remember: anything I can do, anything at all within my power, consider it done,” she signed to me. “I owe you a life debt, and in my eyes you are part of the family, Sarah.”

“Thank you,” I signed back, and of course I had to blush like an idiot at just that moment.

She smiled brightly at me and then turned and rejoined the crowd mingling happily around the dinner table. I lingered on the balcony for just a little longer, enjoying the relative quiet and the cool sea breeze. I heard the quiet click of the door opening behind me, followed by loud voices drifting out from inside until the door closed again, and I looked over my shoulder to see Peter walking toward me.

“You okay, Sarah?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered quietly, staring back out at the sea. The setting sun painted the water a deep purple, and it was incredibly relaxing to watch the waves roll in against the rocky shore.

“Anneke just wanted to talk to me away from the noise.”

“Funny for a deaf woman to want, isn’t it?” said Peter.

“Yeah…”

He leaned against the railing beside me, and I nuzzled up close to him and watched the waves.

“When do you want to go back to New York?” he asked. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, of course.”

“Do you want me to go leave and go back?”

I blurted out the question without even thinking, but now that the words were out, it was exactly what I was afraid of; I had just asked him about my deepest fear—that he’d want me to leave, to go back to my old position and be out of his life.

“Yes, I do,” he answered, and my heart sank like a stone. It was as if someone had stepped on my chest and crushed me flat. He didn’t want me after all, after what we’d been through together? Just as my eyes started to water and I thought I was about to cry, he put his arm around me and pulled me close to him.