Arousing a Dragon Page 5

  And, with a last reassuring smile, Travers closed the door and was gone.

  Aurora swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She pushed on the closed door. It didn’t budge.

  “Alright,” she said to herself, “this is no biggie. You’re in an enormous old skyscraper and you can’t get out, so what? It probably happens in this town all the time.”

  She took a deep, calming breath, and then another, and then looked around the atrium in which she found herself. It was a huge space, softly lit. There were antique busts scattered about the place, as well as some old shields and swords and crossed muskets on the wall. It was the sort of décor that Aurora thought would’ve looked quite cool had they been in a ski lodge or big lakeside cabin, but in here, with no one else around, it all came across as a little sinister.

  Trying to fight her rising hysteria, Aurora made her way to the right as Travers had instructed and found herself facing a bank of old elevators. As the butler had said, one of them had a golden grill that fronted it.

  “Okay, just get in, go upstairs, talk to this guy, and then get out. It’s not a big deal. It’s just a job interview.”

  Aurora got into the vintage elevator and closed the grill behind her. Once the golden grill had snapped into position the doors of the elevator slid closed.

  Hey genius, you never asked Travers what floor you were supposed to go to.

  This, however, did not seem to be a problem, because there were no buttons. Just as panic was about to rear its ugly head, the elevator gave a jerk and then started a rather geriatric ascent upwards.

  There was no music. No sound except for the creak of cables. Aurora checked her phone, thinking that it might be a good idea to let Harper know where she was, just in case anything weird were to go down. However she had absolutely no signal. This did nothing to dispel the claustrophobic feeling that was settling over her.

  There was no way for Aurora to know what floor she was heading to, as there was no dial or display, but it took about two minutes before the elevator came to halt and the doors slid open.

  Aurora yanked the cage doors open and stepped into the relatively cool air of yet another huge space.

  She faced a wall made entirely of glass. There was no view, only the blank concrete façade of the building opposite, but after the gloom of the old elevator it was enough to bring a smile to Aurora’s face. She felt as if she could breathe again.

  As opposed to the old, stone building that she had viewed from the pretty courtyard, this space was strikingly modern; all crisp, clean lines, shiny surfaces and glinting metal. There was a huge Jackson Pollock canvas on one wall. She realized this was the penthouse, and it was worth millions.

  The minimal design of the penthouse was augmented by a host of taxidermy animals– a zebra rearing on its hind legs, a moose with a white linen hanging from one of its antlers.

  “Hello?” Aurora called, taking a tentative step into the room. Behind her, the elevator doors slid shut.

  She called out again, but there was no response.

  There were a few low couches in the middle of the room and Aurora thought that the most prudent thing she could do was to wait for Mr. Hawthorne to find her. There was no point wandering about in this place. She’d be lost in an instant.

  Well, boy oh boy, this is how the other half live, huh? she thought, her eyes sweeping across the artwork on the walls, the beautiful bespoke furniture, and a breath-taking spiral staircase, crafted of dark wood, that looked like a work of art in itself.

  Her gaze was directed to the floor, which appeared to be made of the same polished marble as the main lobby. It appeared to be rippling, and looking up, Aurora realized that the moving pattern was created by sunlight shining through the glass bottom of a swimming pool some forty feet above.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said aloud.

  She could see a man doing laps in the pool. As she watched, he performed a flawless tumble turn and then fired himself off from the wall of the pool, to swim twenty meters underwater before surfacing and swimming the rest of the way in a nice, even breaststroke.

  Aurora watched in a trance. She couldn’t make out any specific details of the man – apart from the fact that he seemed to be in good shape – but there was something mesmerizingly naughty about watching someone swim from below. Something undeniably erotic that she couldn’t put her finger on.

  Sure beats serving vegan scallops said that irrepressibly honest part of her mind.

  The man stopped when he reached the end of the pool. Aurora watched as he trod water for a moment and then hauled himself out and disappeared from view. A minute later, from somewhere beyond the top of the graceful spiral staircase, there was the sound of a door sliding open and then closed and then bare feet slapping softly along a wooden floor.

  Before Aurora could adopt a more casual pose on the couch, a man appeared at the head of the stairs and started to descend. He was wrapped in a towel and was naked from the waist up, and was busy drying his wet hair with another smaller towel. Aurora’s eyes followed him like a cat watching a bird.

  This is much better than goddamn vegan scallops, said her thoughts.

  The man – Mr. Hawthorne, surely – looked to be about twice her age, in his early forties, and was in fantastic shape. He was of /average build, but had a broad muscular chest covered with a thatch of fine hair, which trailed downwards in a thin line, over a toned stomach and disappeared into the edge of his towel. The bottom of Mr. Hawthorne’s abdominals were defined by a clear-cut V, which drew Aurora’s eye like a magnet.

  Dragging her protesting eyeballs upwards, Aurora cleared her throat and said, “Mr. Hawthorne… Um, hi, I’m Aurora.”

  Finn Hawthorne the Fourth looked up then, and fixed her with his intelligent brown eyes.

  “Ah, Miss Laurent, I’m sorry you’ve caught me like this. I’m running a little behind schedule obviously.”

  “I, uh, I was given this card with a number on it… I don’t know if you remember me from last night…” She trailed off. It was unlikely that he would have forgotten the person who sprayed him with a fire extinguisher. Her face flushed crimson at the memory.

  Finn Hawthorne walked over to the huge stuffed moose and retrieved the linen shirt from its antler, pulling it on. Then he turned to Aurora and gave her a small smile.

  “Miss Laurent, how could I forget you? You put on quite the performance last night.”

  “I’m sorry about that. That art – I ruined it, didn’t I?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure there were many who would say you improved it.”

  “It was a bit...”

  “Horrible is the word I think you’re searching for.”

  Aurora grinned. “But, I thought you were the one who brought the artist’s stuff over from Europe?”

  “I did, I did,” Hawthorne said, “but just because I like to support the arts in general, doesn’t mean that I’d buy every wacky and ridiculous piece that crosses the threshold of that gallery.”

  Mr. Hawthorne moved over to a huge fireplace while the silence stretched.

  “Mr. Hawthorne,” Aurora said, awkwardly following him over, “I really appreciate you bailing me out. You didn’t have to do that. If this is about paying you back, I will. I just need a little bit of time to get the money together.”

  Hawthorne was kneeling by the empty fireplace, seemingly absorbed in the stack of kindling, paper and wood that was sat in the middle of it. Without warning fire erupted in the hearth, a blaze that crackled as if it had been burning for hours. Heat washed out from the firebox and Hawthorne stood up and leaned over, using the fire to dry himself.

  As the fire blossomed into crackling life, Aurora gasped and staggered backwards with her hands held over her face. She tripped on the edge of a cowhide rug and fell on her ass, her feet scrabbling a little as she moved instinctively away from the flickering tongues.

  “Don’t worry about the bail,” Hawthorne said. He turned around then, notic
ing for the first time that Aurora was on the floor. “What the – are you okay?” His head whipped around at the fireplace. “Are you afraid of–”

  “Fire! Yes!” Aurora panted.

  Hawthorne twisted around and looked at the fire. It immediately went out, the kindling and wood turned to ash, only a faint curl of smoke hinting that there had been a roaring blaze just a moment before. Through her panic, Aurora dimly wondered how he’d made the fire go out so quickly. Maybe there was a hidden switch?

  “I apologize,” Hawthorne was saying. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. In retrospect though, that makes a great deal of sense.” He shook his head, held out his hand and helped Aurora to her feet. “That’s why you grabbed the extinguisher last night and –”

  “And blew those giant dicks – I mean, put out those…” She traced a giant phallic shape in the air with her hands.

  As he pulled her to her feet, their hands touched for the first time, and a shiver of electricity passed through Aurora, Was it her imagination, or did Hawthorne’s hand linger in hers just that little bit longer than the situation called for? Her senses seemed to become heightened. She could feel each of his fingertips brushing against her palm, the touch of skin on skin as her hand slid from his grip.

  Pull yourself together, woman, her pessimistic mind said, this is a job interview, not a Valentine’s Day special.

  Hawthorne stood looking down at her with those gold-flecked eyes of his.

  “Do you mind if I ask what trauma lies behind your fear? I know that that sort of phobia is very rarely irrational.”

  Aurora looked up into Mr. Hawthorne’s face, into the strangely captivating eyes that seemed to hold her and invite her trust – even though she had known the man for less than five minutes.

  “I… It was back in Nebraska. Back home. There was a fire one night, in one of our barns. It was the barn that we stabled the horses in, you know? My father ran out to try and get them out of their stalls. He never came out. I tried to get in and look for him, but the fire – the flames – were just too intense. I couldn’t even get near the door.”

  Mr. Hawthorne nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. “Well, that makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it?”

  “Look, Mr. Hawthorne,” Aurora said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been a crazy eighteen hours for me. I can’t help but feel like a minnow in an enormous fishpond. Can I just ask; what am I actually doing here?”

  “Brass tacks, huh?”

  Aurora nodded. “It’d just be great to have some idea what is going on in my own life.”

  Hawthorne smiled and said, “Fair enough. Basically, I need a caretaker.”

  “You?” Aurora asked. Her traitorous eyes ran over the man’s body before she could stop them. “When Travers told me that I thought he must’ve meant for him.”

  “For Abraham? No. No, that man is quite capable, don’t you worry. Even with the limp. But he is not able to take care of all my needs.”

  Ah, so here it is, Aurora’s dirty mind thought, the sleazy and indecent proposal. Well, at least he’s handsome – not to mention richer than some small nations. It could be worse.

  Despite these treacherous thoughts, Aurora adjusted the scarf to cover her cleavage.

  The gesture did not escape Finn Hawthorne.

  “You misunderstand me. They’re not those sort of needs. I just need someone young and bright and keen. Someone who is available twenty-four/seven. And seeing as, after last night, I believe you have been –”

  “Shit canned?” Aurora supplied.

  “I was going to say made available at short notice,” Hawthorne said, “I thought that you might be interested in the position.”

  Hawthorne walked over to a long bar, selected a crystal decanter, and poured himself a small measure of clear liquid. He plopped in a couple of ice cubes from a little ice bucket and rattled the glass at Aurora.

  “Would you like one?” he asked.

  Aurora held up her hand and went an unhealthy shade of green at the sight of the hard liquor. “It’s a little early isn’t it?”

  “Not in Sydney.”

  Aurora shook her head, her mouth a firm line.

  “So,” she said, as Hawthorne took a seat on one of the couches and gestured for her to do the same, “you want someone twenty-four/seven?”

  “Yes. This is an in-house position, which means you’d be –”

  “I’d be living here?” Aurora waved her arms and gestured around at the opulent penthouse.

  “Yes, right here,” said Hawthorne, taking a sip of his drink. “Or in one of my other residences – depending on my work schedule.”

  “Right, right,” Aurora said, waggling her foot distractedly. “And, ah, I hate to be rude or vulgar or whatever, but –”

  “You’re interested in the compensation package?” cut in Hawthorne.

  “If that means how much does it pay, then yes,” replied Aurora.

  “Money, money, money,” Mr. Hawthorne sighed, “where would we be without it? Do you know that a dollar bill isn’t even worth the paper –linen, actually – it’s printed on? What a funny thing economics is.” He smiled at Aurora over the rim of his glass, taking another sip of his drink. “Still, we may as well get this part of the business over with.”

  He reached for a pen and pad that sat on a coffee table nearby and scribbled a number on it. Then he folded it and passed it over to Aurora.

  “You have to remember that, as well as this sum, you’ll be given free meals and a place to live.”

  Aurora took the proffered piece of paper, opened it and looked at the number. Despite her best efforts, her eyebrows shot towards the ceiling and she sat back into the embrace of the designer couch.

  “That sort of money for a caretaker, huh? Do I have to wipe your ass or something? I left Nebraska to get away from manure, remember, so I’m not about to start shoveling shit, no matter how big the paycheck is.”

  Hawthorne smiled. “I assure you, there is no shit involved.”

  “It’s a lot of money.”

  Hawthorne shrugged this off. “There is a stipulation,” he said.

  “There is, huh? What is it?”

  “That you must start tonight.”

  “Tonight? What is it with you and instant gratification? I need to go home and shower and sort myself out and…”

  She trailed off. Mr. Hawthorne was holding up a silk scarf that had, evidently, been draped over the back of the sofa he was sitting on.

  “Would you indulge me and allow me to try a meditation technique with you?” he asked.

  Aurora looked at him sceptically. “You want to blindfold me?” she asked.

  “It will help you to focus, to listen only to my voice and the questions that I ask you.”

  “I can hear you pretty well right now, thank you, Mr. Hawthorne.”

  “It’s something someone showed me once that helps control impulses and allows me to make wiser decisions. I’ve used this almost daily for years to help me achieve everything you see around you.”

  Aurora looked at the scarf. Then looked at the man holding it.

  Maybe this is just some rich guy bullshit, she thought. This man clearly lives in a different world.

  “Fine,” Aurora said, and Hawthorne got up, moved around the back of her couch and tied the scarf gently at the back of her head. A tingle of pleasure ran down her spine at the brief touch of the billionaire’s hands on her scalp as he tilted her head down slightly.

  Hawthorne then asked her to stand and to try controlling her breathing, making it rhythmic and steady. Aurora did as she was instructed, trying to ignore the frisson of sexual electricity she felt coursing through her as Hawthorne walked around her.

  “Okay,” he said, “tell me your shoe size.”

  And just when you didn’t think it was going to be that weird.

  “What?” Aurora asked.

  “Just tell me your shoe size.”

  “Uh, seven.”

  “And your dress
size?”

  “Oh. C’mon, this is a bit…” Aurora went to lift the blindfold, but Hawthorne gently intercepted her hand and moved it back to her side.

  “Dress size, please.”

  “Fine. Six.”

  “Okay. Those were just a couple of arbitrary questions to relax you a bit.”

  Oh, yeah, so relaxing, Aurora thought. This is exactly how I usually spend my Sundays. Blindfolded in a billionaire’s penthouse on the Upper East Side. No one is going to believe this…

  Then Hawthorne started talking in a mellow, soothing voice. “You moved to NY for a reason. Big dreams. To get away. To start a new life. I built this empire trusting my instincts when it comes to people.” Hawthorne walked over and rested his hands on her shoulders and – although Aurora couldn’t see it – looked her full in the face. “I see something in you, Miss Laurent. Let go of the self-doubt. I promise you’ll see a side of New York you never imagined existed if you come and work for me.”

  Aurora swallowed. A sudden nervousness she couldn’t adequately explain flooded her stomach and she tore the blindfold off.

  “I really appreciate you paying the bail,” she stammered, stepping out of Hawthorne’s gentle hold on her. “But this is a bit much. I mean, I’m just a small-town Nebraska girl. Surely there are others with better qualifications, more experience. I have to go. I mean, thanks for the opportunity.”

  Aurora’s thoughts were all over the place as she walked briskly to the elevator, realizing only when she got there that there were no buttons to call it.

  Suddenly, the sound of stiletto heels tapping across the marble floor reached her ears. A beautiful Asian woman, wearing a simple but gorgeous red dress and with shining black hair that fell to her waist, strutted over to Aurora and proffered her an odd-looking box. Without a word, she gestured for the flustered girl to take it. Aurora looked blankly at Hawthorne.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a puzzle box – a gift. When you’re feeling lost it may help you find your way again.” The handsome billionaire flashed a smile at her and finished the last of his drink. “Abraham will meet you downstairs. The driver will take you wherever you wish to go.