Chapter 5: Sarkon's Secret

Lovette froze in her spot, inches away from her ultimate gift, her lover. The man stared back. His beautiful features had the most emotionless expression. "Didn't you hear what I said?" Lovette closed her eyes in exasperation and straightened herself. "O'course, I did. You sent the girl to school." "So?" "So, she's not here." "And?" "And I can stop acting," the mistress stated quietly. Sarkon pushed her hips away to open a drawer. Lovette stood and watched in awkward silence as he took out a file. The mistress continued standing and watching like a student being punished by the discipline master as Sarkon leafed through the file and started reading from it. A sarcastic chuckle burst through her red lips, and Lovette rebuked the handsome giant sitting calmly before her, "This is ridiculous. I'm your mistress! Why can't I touch you?" Sarkon looked up from his file and turned to her, "If your brain is not working, I'll hire another one." "Sarkon!" Those dreamy, blue eyes darkened with a monstrous rage. Lovette was instantly reduced to a wordless image. Those arousing lips that had evoked in her a desire to be ravaged by them now seized her with a frightening, spiky feeling as they moved. "Repeat the agreement," the same deep voice ordered. The blue gaze then lowered to the edge of the desk. Lovette swallowed frustration and raised her nose in defiance but answered obediently, "No touching, no talking, no looking when we're alone." Sarkon drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "We can do whatever is necessary to convince Maria that we're lovers." His fingers stopped drumming. Lovette inhaled deeply and exhaled heavily with her eyes closed as she muttered defeatedly, "If I do the job well, I get to keep all the gifts." She paused and added with a sigh, "Including that hundred grand you gave me at the start." Sarkon nodded and resumed his reading, "Your brain is working fine." The lovely mistress puckered her face like a child being scolded for her bad temper and stormed out of the room, clicking her heels angrily past a smiling butler. Albert entered and quietly placed the cup of coffee on the desk. Beside the cup was a saucer with two tiny white discs. "Your coffee and pills, Sir." Sarkon nodded and put down his file. Once the door closed again, the hulk sunk into his seat. Absentmindedly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver pocket watch. Sarkon stared at the metal piece quietly for a long time. With an exhale and a skip of a heartbeat, he flipped open the casing. Maria in a white sleeve dress was beaming back at him. They were in London for her sixteenth birthday… It was after an art gallery tour. He took her to Hyde Park to see a real swan—the first in her life. He remembered how much she'd wanted to see a swan. It was that story about some duck turning into a swan. She had been so fascinated that she asked him for permission to rear a few ducklings. When they didn't turn to swans, she was disappointed. He promised to bring her to see one. And here they were. She was exuberant, of course. Bursting in squeals of excitement as she waddled around in her dress ballooning in the wind, just to take a few more photos of the majestic bird. Her brownish-red curls kept thrashing about, sticking wildly all over her face and she had to keep shaking them off. He realized that the wind was very strong. Even so, she wasn't deterred from enjoying herself. "I'm a mess!" Her silky voice pierced through the gurgling air currents, She beamed at him with her emerald eyes in two cheerful rainbows. Sarkon thought she was pure and beautiful like a swan. He was mesmerized. Frozen in his spot, seized by her sheer beauty, speechless for the first time… His heart never beat the same again ever since that day. Whenever she was around him, he couldn't think properly and he hated himself for it. The first few weeks that she invaded his mind and cooked up a storm in it, he tried to break the trance and punched a wall. He ended up with a few broken knuckles. The sight of her color-drained expression at his heavily bandaged hand warned him to keep such dangerous moments to himself. He was more careful than ever since then. Sarkon stared at the picture he'd taken without her knowing. His eyes drifted from those grinning almond, green eyes to outline the contours of her delicate nose. He came to her rose-petal lips and his throat went dry. A thumb brushed over them. He was dying to kiss— The casing snapped shut. He grabbed his forehead. His breathing was heavy. Millions of the same haunting thoughts rammed through his mind like a bullet train. Maria is off limits, he silently growled. You of all people should know why. She may be young and rash, but you're not. He knew. He knew how Maria felt about him. He could see it in her eyes. He had seen her portraits of him. He reckoned it was just a phase, a typical teenage girl's crush, so he didn't pursue the matter but kept his distance. It wasn't enough. Worse, he got caught in the whirlwind of it as well. He almost kissed her that evening at the beach. He felt a desire so strong that he was horrified and utterly disgusted with himself. He had to end it. He bought an actress to put on a good show for Maria, and it worked. Maria kept her distance. For the whole of last week, they hardly spoke to each other and he kept a close watch on her from afar. He should have been glad that his plan was working. He worked twice as hard, so he would be too exhausted to dream. His mind should have been at peace, now that she was away. But peace didn't come at all. He missed her. Sarkon stared into the shadow of his hand and swallowed hard. He needed to find her a good husband. Then, he would have completely served his promise to her father, and she would be gone from his life. Sarkon popped the aspirin into his mouth and took a sip of the warm, bitter liquid. He heaved a helpless sigh of misery. Women… ***** Maria's misery began the second she entered her room. After getting Sarkon's warning about her attire, Maria left him for a short while to report to the dormitory office. The second she stepped out of the car, eyes from any passerby were in her direction. But Maria knew that they were actually awed by the owner of the car, the influential business prodigy, not her. Ignoring the stares and pointing fingers, Maria skipped up the steps and entered the building. The matron greeted her with a bored look and handed over a package of stuff, most likely pamphlets and booklets about the campus and the dorms, and the keys to her room. With a non-verbal glare, she urged Maria out of the office. Back outside, Sarkon was leaning against the side of the car. His thick arms were crossed in front of his broad chest as he gazed around like a tourist. Maria had this view of him imprinted in her mind because she would not see him for the next few weeks. The thought of it made her stomach twist in knots. Her eyes brightened with a sudden inspiration. She hugged her stomach and walked up to her young guardian. "I think I have food poisoning." Sarkon stretched his gaze only to relax it again. "No, you don't." Maria bowed over and grunted, "Really. My stomach hurts. Argh! I need a doctor… Quick… I can't stay here." A large hand went on the top of her head, and Maria felt a brotherly pat. Her heart sank again. She wouldn't see him again in the weeks to come. Couldn't he just give her what she wanted? Immediately, she chided herself. What do you want, Maria? What do you expect? A lover's pat? Is he yours? He's not. He has a girlfriend, and it's not you. Stop your nonsense and get a grip. But Maria couldn't. And she wouldn't stop loving this man. This man had given her everything and asked for nothing in return. No, she defended silently, she would not stop her nonsense. That decision was hers alone to make. She straightened and glared at the dashing man who stared back with the familiar icy look. "Why do you always see through my tricks?" the young lady asked with a pout. "You can't act," came the blunt reply. "Humph," Maria grumbled. "Why can't you just pretend that I can, just once?" "I don't lie to you, Maria. You know that." That's true, Maria conceded. Yet, she still felt worse. "I don't want to stay here, Uncle Sarkon," she pleaded in a whisper as her eyes fixed on those giant hands, hoping for more warmth. Sarkon placed both hands onto her shoulder...