Broken Chapter One By Karisma Romance, Alt. Rating: PG-13 Karisma456@hotmail.com Standard Disclaimers Apply June 2001 London, England 2001 Darien McDermott sat at his desk, impatiently waiting for his secretary to come in with his messages. Loosening his tie restlessly, he spun around in his chair to peer over his office’s view. The entire back wall was solid glass, allowing him one of the finest views London had to offer. Barely glancing at the spectacular evening skyline, he sighed heavily at the delay his novice secretary was causing him. Unsure what had possessed his friend to hire such a young, inexperienced dilettante, he ran an agitated hand through his dark hair. He groaned silently when he heard her rush in, breathless. Turning once again in his plush chair, he held out his hand for the yellow files. The young girl blushed deeply to the same color of her red hair when he flipped through them brusquely. Nodding to her curtly, he began his work, effectively cueing her exit. Molly Hanson sighed silently, if she was honest with herself, she realized she had no business starting work with the most demanding man alive. Fresh out of college, she knew she wasn’t experienced enough for such a challenging job. After a disastrous first day, she had decided on requesting a transfer. In fact, she was on her way out the door when Mr. McDermott had called her back to pull some more files for him in a ridiculously narrow time slot. Only Superman could please Darien McDermott, and even then he would tsk-tsk at the delay the fastest man alive had caused him! Content with her decision, she left his office and immediately picked up the phone to request another boss in the same building. Someone who was, preferably, not the CEO of one of the richest, most powerful, international communication systems in the world. **** Serena Corday brushed her light hair out of her blue eyes. typing rapidly on her laptop, she finished the article with a sudden burst of inspiration. Saving it triumphantly, she reached over for her forgotten coffee and took a sip. Grimacing instantly at the cold, bitter liquid, she automatically checked her slim watch to find out exactly how long she had been in the café. Her large eyes widened in alarm as she realized the time. Snapping her gray laptop shut, she snatched up her bag and quickly packed up. Running out of the café, she hailed a cab and was soon whisked away into the London traffic. She arrived at her sister’s home breathless, frantically trying not to be late for the long anticipated reunion. She entered the cozy home, warmth surrounding her from all sides as she followed the noise of laughter into the tactfully decorated living room. Neha jumped up when she saw Serena. Engulfing her in a tight embrace, the shorter woman laughed somewhat nervously. When the two women pulled apart, Neha looked at her friend in nervousness. When they had last parted, Serena had been in a cold shock while Raye had been reticent, staring off into space without recognition of anyone. Guilt seeped through her at what tragedies had befallen her two wonderful friends. However, when she saw her blonde friend candidly happy to see her, all worries about the past dissolved. Serena saw the worried emotions fly across Neha’s petite face and smiled broadly to assure her. She knew the torture the Khans had gone through when she and Raye had made their hasty departure. Although they had nothing to do with Ajay or his thugs, a sense of responsibility had fallen on their shoulders, making it painful to watch their exchange students leave on such dreadful terms. Raye jumped up in excitement and led her older sister to sit next to a grown up Raj. They all exchanged pleasantries before a unpleasant silence spread over them. Typical Raye, desiring everyone to be comfortable and happy, chattered on about humorous times that had taken place during the stay. However, everyone was not pondering over the anecdotes, they were remembering a more somber experience. The recollection of the hospital where Raye had lay, so still, so pale, her face crumbling with understanding as she learned of her inability to bear children. But Raye had found a man who understood and loved her regardless. In light of her usual trusting nature, it should not have surprised Serena that Raye had taken to loving the company of the opposite sex so quickly. Within a few years she was dating Chad steadily. They had gotten engaged and finally married; the couple was now looking forward to the adoption process that would start within the next month. Serena had never fully forgotten, nor gotten over, the incident. When she had arrived back to American soil, the justice system had done nothing to help her considering the crime had been committed in India, regardless of it happening to one of their citizens. No one had wanted to take a case he was sure to lose. The legalities in India were derisory. Not only were judges easily bribed into seeing nothing of importance in a rape, they were also sexist, resulting in only patronizing pity that was nothing close to the hard justice Serena craved. So their attackers had gotten off scot-free. With not even a slap on the wrist to appease her, Serena had gone off to college, refusing dates and thereby winning the delightful nickname: Cold fish Corday. She had focused all her energies on writing and obtaining her degree. She had discovered her passion for journalism immediately after the attack. She dreamt of writing scathing pieces that would tell the world about the injustices done to her and millions of women all over the world. At first, it was only a venting process for her; her pent up anger would be released in a page long biting diatribe. But then, after a long talk with her professor, she was told she had raw talent, talent that would be a shame to waste. From then on, she had the pleasure of acquiring a goal that could take up all her energy and time. She had learned after the attack too much time on her hands would only result in insanity. Early on, she trained herself to harvest all her mind, body, and soul to the task at hand and never let herself think for too long. Eventually, her hard work and insane hours paid off when she was offered a job in London for a newspaper. She had built herself up to attain a column where she would write about life perspectives and offer humor and poignancy to all who read it. The job was not as full time as she would have liked, the hours were wonderful to someone who had a busy social calendar. Serena, however, only had her work to keep her occupied and writing an article a week paid well, but did nothing to ease the dread of going home alone to face her thoughts. She was forever looking for something to fill more of her time. She had tried hobbies and writing a novel, the former was frustratingly mundane and the latter only magnified the ache of the attack and her empty life subsequent to it. Words could not describe how happy she was for her sister, but sometimes, when she was in her bed at night, she couldn’t help but wish she, too, had someone to wean strength from. But it was crazy talk, for it seemed Serena Corday was doomed to a solitary life, for who wanted damaged goods with scarring pasts? However crude the statements, Serena knew understanding men such as Chad were hard to come by, and that was with Raye’s sweet disposition. Of course, it wasn’t like she had tried to involve herself into a serious relationship with man, but she was getting there. Serena realized that not all men were evil; she could not lump then all together with swine like Ajay. She was even consciously was comfortable with many of them. But still, seven years later, at the mature age of twenty-four, she would freeze, or experience the terrifying moment of acute panic if a man looked at her in a certain way, or touched her when she wasn’t aware of it. However, she was getting better with time. It was only a matter of someone willing to go through the turmoil of an intimate relationship with her. She was sarcastic, biting, and downright rude at times. What man on earth would want to put up with that on top of the baggage she came with? **** Darien hung up his phone, satisfied with the pleasing news that he would have another secretary brought to him first thing tomorrow. He was assured this one was experienced, practiced, and most importantly, middle aged. The last thing he needed was a mindless, twenty year old female hanging on his every word with a giggle and blush at every glance. A secretary in her fifties would be stiff, efficient, and not too personal, ensuring privacy and no expectations for a camaraderie after hours. He stretched in his chair, rubbing the tension out of his neck with one hand while the other dialed another number. “Hello, Ken?” “Darien?” A groggy voice came through. “What’s the matter? What happened?” “Nothing happened, I just wanted to discuss those figures you found today.” “You mean yesterday.” Ken’s voice took an oddly peeved tone. “Yesterday?” “Yes, yesterday, you workaholic. It’s two a.m.!” With that, Darien received the sharp dial tone. Only Ken would dare hang up on him and that was only because they had known each other since boyhood. The small fact that Darien was Ken’s boss did nothing to hinder their friendship as the two kept their business life and friendship on two different levels. Darien sighed heavily as he, too, hung up his phone. Grabbing his jacket and briefcase, he closed his office behind him. Nodding cordially to the alert security man near the glass doors, he fished out his keys and unlocked the expensive Mercedes. Driving home on the deserted roads, his mind never left his office, discerning business tactics and deals, debating mergers and numbers and facts into a calculated mind whose intellect was only surpassed by its astounding memory. At four he had astounding his mother by telling her which would be more pragmatic: three cans of beets for seventy-six cents or each at twenty-eight cents. At ten he was breezing through advanced algebra; by eleven it was calculus. College courses soon came into the picture, mathematic as well as logic and economics. Knowledge was ever-lasting, you never finished like you did with a book or a movie. It was the same motto that he installed into his business. He worked hard, he played hard. His work was his play, as many friends would care to argue. But it was in his expanding company that Darien found pleasure. The sheer joy of knowing he was in control, he held all the knowledge to every nook and cranny and decision GRC had and made. Pulling into his four-car garage, Darien entered the opulent house through the garage door. He passed the luxurious paintings and expensive furniture with nonchalance, pausing only to glance at the dinner his housekeeper had left him. Not bothering to fix himself a plate, Darien headed toward the master bedroom and showered, his mind rethinking the possibility of a merger with India. The benefits would be wonderful, communication between the country and the United States was wonderful. He had set up multiple deals in the States, it made sense to make acquaintances in India. The initial cost would be exorbitant, but the end results would be lucrative if he played his cards right. He was positive setting up a camp in the heart of India would be wise, but how to go about it was a conundrum. Darien would need to set up a deal that would be appealing to the communication officers there and in order to make him feel at ease, there was one obvious factor he would require: a translator. That much was obvious and once they felt comfortable there, he could begin the negotiations to make GRC India’s new communications systems. **** Serena entered the restaurant, the spicy smells and cultural environment reminding her off all the things she loved about India. She spotted Raye immediately and smiled. Walking toward the table, she greeted her half sister and her husband, her voice soft and blended in with the music softly playing. She sat down next to Neha and her brother, laying her napkin on her lap. The conversation was light as they waited for the waiter to come to their table. When the owner of the posh restaurant came to see them, the party of five looked up, surprised. Speaking in Hindi, the impeccably dressed man greeted Neha and Raj with a warm smile. They responded enthusiastically, they had not seen many Indian people in their trip and were reminded of home to see this short, slightly plump man. Raye looked at Serena and winked. She had forgotten whatever Hindi she had picked up immediately after the attack. The doctors thought it was her way of effectively dismissing all associated with the rape. The inability to recall the language must have been subconscious because Raye was dismayed to forget her second language. Serena however, begged for the release of forgetting, forgetting it all: the attack, the language, the culture, everything. But she couldn’t, and part of her didn’t want to; She loved the culture and there were wonderful things about the country that she admired. She wouldn’t give the attack the satisfaction of letting her hate the very things she yearned to learn about. So Serena remained fluent in Hindi, and although she was rusty, she decided to participate in the conversation and give the cordial man a shock. “Namaste, sahi. Aap kaisee hoon?” She had asked him how he was and the happy surprise written on his face was answer enough as his grin grew broader. He answered cheerfully, retelling of how his wife and children were faring. They chatted about where in India he was from and how his relatives back home were doing. When he asked how she knew Hindi, Neha shifted uncomfortably in her seat, aware of the tense subject. But Serena told him of her schooling trip calmly, her placid face not betraying one iota of the pain the attack gave her. Nobody at the table saw the tall man enter the restaurant and pass the blonde a curious look. Nobody saw his face split into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. And nobody saw him reach into his coat pocket for a phone and make a quick call that made an appointment for an international video conference for later that week. **** “Well, I’m off,” Serena dabbed her mouth and placed her white linen napkin on the table and smiled at its occupants. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll see you later at Raye’s house?” When they nodded the affirmative and said their good-byes. She left them to continue with their idle chatter as she waved to the owner, Mr. Patel, and adjusted her purse strap. “Excuse me,” a deep voice said behind her, stopping her on the sidewalk. She turned around nervously, wary at the sound of the stranger’s male voice. “Yes?” She asked politely, keeping a good distance between their bodies. “I was wondering if I might have a word,” the tall man gestured to a dark limo next to him and parked at the curb. Serena arched a delicate eyebrow and cut him down with an acid reply that was true to her character, “You want me to get into a car alone with a strange man? Obviously you believe the myth about dumb blondes.” The man’s lips seemed to twitch imperceptibly. Smart sunglasses covered his eyes and Serena wished she wasn’t wearing them so she could gauge his expression. “Do I look like the type to ravish you in broad daylight?” Serena took the invitation to give the man an appraisal. His clean cut manner looked honest enough, but there was something menacing in his broad, six foot two frame. Neatly trimmed ebony hair complimented his dark suit. His entire aura gave off a suave, cultured air that wasn’t dangerous—at least not in the typical definition. But there was something risky in the curl of curiosity that swept through her at what the man wanted. She rolled her blue eyes and smiled aloofly. “I don’t think so.” Turning, she continued walking, her low heels clicking on the cement. It took less than a second for her to hear heavy footsteps behind her. She spun around, anger in her eyes and voice. “What?” She snapped. The man held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa. I just want to talk to you.” “Sure, “talk”. Right.” Her caustic tone let him know exactly what she thought about his suggestion. He grew angry as he whipped off his sunglasses, his cobalt eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Look lady, if I wanted sex, there are quite a few willing women who would be more than happy to take care of that for me. So there would no reason for me to attack you in the middle of the day. And if I was an ax-murderer, do you really think I’d invite you to a limousine to discuss business?” She gave him a saccharine sweet smile. “I bet you say that to all your victims.” He smiled at her remark, his lopsided grin breaking his hard, dark face. “I wanted to offer you a job.” “Do I really look unemployed?” When he looked at her, his thoughts had nothing to do with business. Her slim frame was fit into a cream colored, chic suit. The thigh length skirt and matching blazer subtly covered her figure, but Darien’s shrewd gaze could easily detect the soft, feminine physique beneath them. And there was no hiding the beauty in her expressive face, even with her thick hair pulled back in the severe bun. Wide set aquamarine eyes were placed above a pert nose. They were both above a pink mouth that was captivating to watch move. “No.” He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “But I’m prepared to pay you more than your current job is.” “Is that right,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest in a belligerent fashion. “And what might this “job” be?” He resented her implication that the vocation was anything less than above reproach stung him. “A translator,” he said frostily, tucking his sunglasses inside his coat. Her face lost its patronizing smirk. “I don’t—” Before she could continue denying it, he cut in, “Before you start lying to me, let me tell you something. I heard you back in the restaurant and I need someone who speaks and understands Hindi fluently.” “Why?” She inquired boldly, meeting his blue gaze head on. He didn’t so much as twitch from her steady stare. “Because I’m about to make a business proposition to the head of the communications department there.” She nodded, fixing him with an icy stare that had won her her infamous nickname. “I see. You do realize, of course, that the majority of India’s population has been schooled to learn English flawlessly from when they are in first grade?” “Of course, as are multiple other countries. But I still maintain that people are more comfortable speaking their first language. And you, my dear, can provide that comfort.” Perhaps it was the way the words ‘my dear’ sounded so glib on his tongue, or maybe it was how he looked her up and down when speaking, but Serena suddenly felt warm and irritated all at the same time. Mentally giving herself a firm shake, she brought her penetrating gaze back up to the stranger’s face. “So I’m supposed to help you make the poor man feel at home so you can zero in for the kill?” He smiled blithely. “Like I told you, I’m a business man, not an ax-murderer.” “And if I told you they were one in the same?” “Touché.” He smiled, his hard blue eyes glinting in the sun. His lips curled up to reveal a row of perfectly white teeth. “Well, it’s been grand, Mr…” Serena paused, cueing him to give her his name. “McDermott.” “Yes, well, it’s been grand, Mr. McDermott, but I’m afraid you’ll have to find yourself someone else.” She shrugged apologetically and turned, walking away with quick, punctuating strides. “But I want you!” He exclaimed behind her. She raised an eyebrow at the double entendre when she looked over her shoulder at him. He didn’t blush, rather, he just stared right back at her, his masked expression revealing nothing. “I’m sorry, Mr. McDermott,” she said simply. They stared at each other for a moment, each frustrated at the other’s stubbornness. Finally, Serena broke the moment by getting into the back of the cab that had stopped for her. Darien watched her in the back of the car, her perfect posture looking out the window at something indefinable. He watched her profile for as long as he could before the yellow car swerved and was out of sight. Shaking his head slowly, he smiled at the challenge she would prove to be. He slipped into the back of the limousine and gave the chauffer directions. His thoughts slipped back to the elusive woman once again. One thing was for certain: There was more to Serena Corday than met the eye. And he intended to find out every last detail of it.