The Marked One (The Marked Series Book 1) (3 page)

The main office area seemed calmer and the women were scattered about at their desks, but they all looked at her as she walked out. Being the receptionist and later maybe a distributing consultant for this company had seemed appropriate, as she truly believed in the product. Selling what you believed in was always better than not. But she had been too hopeful and that was her greatest weakness.

***

Tristan

Tristan looked at the caller ID on his cell phone as he got into the town car. His assistant, Ivan, was still somewhere in the building grabbing contracts that needed to be signed, before they both headed to meet up with a business associate for brunch.

“Hello, Father,” he chimed.

“Well done, son, I’m impressed. How ever did you manage to buy out all of Feldman’s stocks from the Craigs Company?” His father’s tone held glee he obviously didn’t care to hide. He’d wanted those stocks for years now.

“
Persuasione
.
Motivazione
.”

“
Resistenza
,” his father completed their little rhyme in Italian, which translated to:
Persuasion. Motivation. Endurance.
Tristan looked at the building’s entrance to check if Ivan was nearby, only to spot a woman leaving the building looking truly furious. She was walking down the few steps at the entrance, her head held low. Her long dark brown hair made it impossible for Tristan to see her face, as it created a small protective curtain, but he didn’t like seeing anyone leave one of his buildings acting in such a manner. It gave the wrong impression.

She stopped a few metres away from his car, shaking her head to herself as she looked at the ground. He got out of the car because he wanted to know why she was looking so furious. If it had been a client who had irritated her, she needed to know that was how the world worked in business. If her boss had treated her unfairly, it needed to be reported.

Every company in the Gerardo Corporations building was owned by his family, and any company causing trouble made his family’s good name look bad.

“Son, are you still there?” his father asked, concern filling his tone as the woman turned to face the building. She said something that he could barely hear, but he did make out the Gerardo motto paired with lies. She spoke in an accent he couldn’t figure out, which played with the words in an odd fashion.

“Yes, just a little issue.” A man passing her on the hectic sidewalk seemed to say something to offend her. “I’ll call you back in a moment,” he told his father and ended the call.

The woman took in whatever the man had told her and kept looking at him as he walked in Tristan’s direction. When she faced him, he understood why the man said something she disliked. It was likely the reason why people were staring. Initially, he thought all the eyes on her was because of how differently styled she looked, in the green dress and brown leather jacket with matching boots, in the depths of the summer heat.

But, she was beautiful beyond the meaning of the word. Not the generic beauty found in magazines and on TV shows. She was unique, and she was hanging on his living room wall for the last week, in the form of a portrait.

The Marked One
.

He was certain it was the woman from the painting. On the upper left side of her face, across her eye and about halfway down her cheek, a birthmark marked her beauty. She had bright green eyes, which looked like shimmering peridot stones, and the artist of the portrait had captured the sadness in those very eyes nearly too perfectly, as she looked exactly like the portrait in that moment.

Her eyes locked with his for a mere second before she turned and walked in the opposite direction, disappearing in the crowd.

The man who had upset her reached him. “Hey, you, wait,” Tristan called out. The man nearly stumbled as he turned around. “What did you just tell that woman?”

“Listen, I don’t…you are Gerardo. I mean, Mr. Tristano Gerardo.” The man fell over his words.

“I asked you a question,” Tristan hissed. The man looked like he was shaking with fear.

“I can’t even remember,” the man pled with a tremble in his tone. He smoothed his words over with a half-smile.

“Let me start again. Do you work for Gerardo or one of the companies we own in this specific building?” Tristan pointed to the structure, as the man’s destination seemed to be just that.

“Yes, Mr. Gerardo, I’m the marketing manager at—”

“Now what did you tell that woman? It was clear that you said something to upset her. And I don’t tolerate judgement from any of my staff, even if you are the staff of a subsidiary. Do you see you see where I’m heading with this?” He sounded cruel to his own ears, but he couldn’t care.

“Nothing, honestly.” The man was about to start grovelling.

“You are fired,” he said as Ivan arrived with the documents he needed Tristan to sign. Ivan looked wide-eyed at Tristan and then the man. “Good, Ivan will help you with your package and make sure we give you a recommendation worthy of what you are.”

Ivan merely nodded. “For—”

“You can’t just fire me for telling a woman she looks like a—”

Tristan stepped closer to the man, who blenched backwards. “You will not finish that sentence, and you are already fired. If you can’t follow the company’s motto, you don’t deserve a position with us.” Fuming, Tristan moved back to the car. The beautiful woman’s image was stuck in his mind. He wanted to know who she was, because without a name, he already felt drawn to her.

The man shouted a few curses, but Ivan calmly continued to speak as Tristan settled in the car. “I just made it official. You don’t work for Gerardo anymore. I sent your photo to security, so they can identify you on the facial recognition system, so
you
won’t have to wait. You will find the information you need at the security desk. Any questions can be done telephonically or electronically to head HR. The details will be in the document you’ll receive and you have forty-eight hours to hand in your security pass, otherwise you will be arrested. Have a lovely day.” Ivan turned away. His casualness gained him a few more curses as he walked around the car to take a seat next to Tristan. “That was fun,” he cheered, closing his door. The driver slowly worked his way into the busy lane.

“Mhmm,” Tristan hummed in agreeance, looked out through the window, and hoped to spot the woman on the busy sidewalk, if luck was on his side.

“Mind sharing why you fired a man on the sidewalk? I don’t see it on today’s agenda,” Ivan merrily asked, handing him the documents to sign. Tristan kept quiet, so Ivan added, “It was fun and all, but shaking up a quick summarisation, misusing the motto is an odd reason to fire someone. He did curse you directly because of it, but it will be the best to stick with that as the reason to why he was fired if you are sued.” Ivan impatiently sighed after Tristan handed back the last document. “Tell me, please, I’m dying to know.”

Tristan faced Ivan, whose deep brown eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Pull up the security footage of the camera facing the street on the west side of the building. The one that should show the drop zone and the car as well. Then go back about five minutes.”

Ivan was a wizard on the tablet—which carried more than just his future—as he worked on getting to the footage. “You got out of the car?” Ivan was squinting at the screen.

Tristan tapped on the screen. “Find out who she is. I want to know—”

“That is the woman from the painting you bought last week,” Ivan said without even a second look. Tristan was now certain it had to be the same woman. “Wait, that man said something to her?” Ivan had been chosen as Tristan’s assistant because they shared similar values and morals, and being judgemental toward anyone didn’t sit right with either of them.

Tristan nodded. “Yes, it seemed so. I want to know who she is, what she does, and if she is employed with us. I want to know why she was so mad before the man came along. And if it helps, you can even try contacting M. Spencer, the artist.”

Ivan retraced her steps back into the building. “Sure thing. I noticed you were on the phone on the footage. Anything—”

“Shit, thank you, Ivan,” Tristan quickly called his father. Ivan tracked the woman to Break Free Cosmetics, and Tristan realised that it would be quite fitting if she worked for the revolutionary cosmetics company in the building. But he rather wanted to see her exposed, if he ever got the pleasure of seeing her again, because her face was marked into his memories now even more than before.

***

Aaliyah

Aaliyah wasn’t in the mood to meet up with Madeline after the morning she’d had. The lack of progress on getting a job was causing her to want to get back in bed and sleep until the nightmare would end. Or until a job magically appeared like a fairy godmother who could solve all her problems at once.

More than twenty interviews and all followed up to
sadly
inform her that she wasn’t chosen, even though she could tell in the interviews that they wouldn’t choose her anyway. She had her hopes so set on the Break Free Cosmetics interview that she hadn’t cared too much about the other rejections, but now she needed to get something and soon.

She walked into 21st Street Coffee and Tea. Artwork by Betsy Marsch perfectly decorated the brick walls. The quaint coffee and tea bar, where she and Madeline always met up, was packed, so she walked to the back, where she could hide her face from the rest of the people in the place. When Aaliyah checked her cell phone, she saw Madeline had left a message that she was around the corner. A few moments later, she entered.

Madeline was a local girl, and her passion for art was evident on her skirt. The blue accordion pleated thing held several paint drops of primary colours on the right side and nowhere else. Her bright red hair was in a messy bun, but her lively smile and bright blue eyes were not missed by any of the other customers. They admired her, and Aaliyah could only smile at the memory of how they had met.

***

“Now listen, buddy, we are going to have a really bad time if you don’t work with me,” a shrill voice sounded on the other side of the door.

Aaliyah checked the dorm number scribbled on the piece of paper again. Nineteen years old, in another country on the other side of the world, where culture shock was the least of her problems was tough enough, but dealing with a roommate who sounded to have guy trouble was even less of a great prospect.

“Damn you to hell you piece of—” Something clattered inside the dorm room as Aaliyah knocked on the door and pushed it open with caution. There was no one other than the girl in the room, and she realised she was going to be sharing the room with someone barmy.

“Hey, I’m Aaliyah,” she whispered.

The girl rushed toward Aaliyah, hugging her wind out and looking her straight in her eyes, which few people were capable of due to the mark on her face. “You’re the SA chick! This is so cool. I freaked out when they told me. Do you have any idea how awesome this is? I’ll make sure to show you how great this country is and then you’d never want to go back.” This girl looked confident that she would make her words come true.

Aaliyah was smiling from ear-to-ear, not only because the girl was so excitable, but she went on speaking so animatedly that Aaliyah still hadn’t caught a name, even after a few moments had passed.

“Sorry, but—”

“Wait, you can help. You’re tall.” The girl dragged her toward the closet, causing her to drop her bags as she went. “Top shelf, my granddad thought it was funny to put my brushes there, because then I’d likely study if I couldn’t paint. As if, right?”

Aaliyah could see the broom hanging on the edge and she smiled. She imagined the broom must’ve been the “buddy” the girl was talking to earlier. She reached up, struggled a little to get the brush bag’s handle, and pulled it down on the third attempt.

“Yes!” the girl cheered, hugging the bag like a puppy. “I have a new best friend and someone to help me with my short girl problems.” Aaliyah was still about to say something, when the girl continued, “Oh, I’m Madeline Spencer. I was so crazy excited to finally meet you that I completely forgot to introduce myself. You must think I’m the worst person ever and that I’m awfully rude. I mean…” Madeline went on to talk for another few minutes, making Aaliyah feel right at home.

That day Aaliyah met the only person, besides her parents, who looked at her and not her birthmark. They became best friends and as tiny as Madeline was, she carried an awful lot of poison to fight the people who dared to give Aaliyah a sideways glance. The only problem in their friendship was that Madeline constantly drew or painted Aaliyah because somehow she had become her muse.

***

Madeline gave Aaliyah a sideways hug and took the seat next to her on the soft bench, rather than one of the chairs on the other side of the table. Aaliyah couldn’t tell what it was, but something was off with Madeline. Looking at the black circles around her friend’s eyes, she assumed a lack of sleep was likely the reason. Madeline then ordered a coffee creation thing Aaliyah still couldn’t pronounce, as she was certain that it was a skill taught to Americans in the teenager phase.