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Adjusting To Normal Ch. 01

By: MicKay



Adjusting To Normal - Chapter One

Screams pierced the darkness. Crawling across the room, the woman loudly cried for help while silently praying for a miracle. But she knew there would be no angel, guardian or avenging, to rescue her tonight. She managed to reach the balcony doors before her assailant caught her. When he stepped into the moonlight, her eyes widened at the sight of his leather gloves. Through her tears, she glanced up to his face and confirmed her worst nightmare. 

"Why?" she sobbed through her pain. 

"Why do you think?" his low voice responded as he turned to glance at the bedroom door. 

"No!" she screamed earning another kick in the ribs. Collapsing on the cold floor, she struggled to breathe while repeating, "No. No. No. No." 

Sitting next to her battered body, he lifted her head and shoulders to his chest. In a tenderness mocked by his cruelty, he wiped her tears and kissed her forehead. He stroked his fingers across her face, neck and shoulders, and then circled the slim column of her throat with a tight grip. 

"You left me no choice," he whispered against her hair. "It has to be done." 

"No," she rasped futilely clawing at leather encased hand. "He's not your son!" 

Immediately, the death grip was released from her neck. She watched in vain hope as he registered the meaning of her words and returned his gaze to the bedroom door. When he turned back to her, his eyes revealed the rage that had been hidden in his heart. 

Her scream was immediately replaced with the sound of her last breath. 

*** 

Scanning the end of the report, the old man sighed and asked, "Are you sure she's the right choice for the job?" 

"She's perfect," his companion said never turning away from the window. "They recruit from every college in the world. She's the only candidate who meets every qualification." 

"Except for being a woman, she does seem to be a perfect choice," the man replied closing the folder. 

"You've never had a problem hiring women before now. Getting soft in your old age?" 

"Bend over the desk and I'll show you just how soft I am. You know what I meant," he snapped. "You're hardly a lady." 

"Perfect for a gentleman like you. The fact that she's a woman will be a bonus as a distraction, no, a temptation that we hadn't considered." 

"No family?" he asked opening the file once again. 

"Plenty of family scattered throughout every trailer park in the country," his companion answered finally turning to face him. "She's worked hard to escape that way of life so she left them in the dust. Last semester she graduated with double majors and top honors but never bought announcements or claimed her tickets to the ceremony." 

"And now? She's willing to drop out of grad school for a temporary assignment?" 

"No," the woman answered as she moved to one of the guest chairs. "We've arranged for this to be a very short assignment that will count towards credit in one of her courses." 

"When does she start?" 

"She will arrive within the hour and leave next Tuesday. With the holiday, she will only miss three days of class."

"Why would she agree to this?" 

"A nice sign-on bonus. That, in addition to a consideration of permanent placement with the firm, created an offer she couldn't refuse."

"If she survives," the old man mumbled. 

"If she survives," the woman repeated with a laugh. "The answer relies on her wisdom in making the right choices. Are you sure you're not getting soft in your old age?" 

***

Reaching for her bag, Eliza Wallen removed the file for the fourth time since starting her journey. Since she was the only passenger, conversation with the driver had been limited to a weather update and an estimated time of arrival. She chose to use her quiet time preparing for the assignment. And she needed to prepare. 

Every time she would begin scanning the dossier, her mind wandered back to the events that had led to this opportunity. Her grades and desire had impressed her employer but Eliza knew that other graduates could offer the same and more. Her self-imposed exile from family had appeared to be the deal maker. When the nagging worry threatened to resurface, she took a deep breath and reminded herself exactly with whom she was now employed. Even if it was only temporary employment, the experience would shine on her resume. 

Keystone Global Assurance had not been her first choice. No, any of the top one hundred insurance companies would have been her first choice. And she had been willing to work for the first who offered a job. KGA was considered the most elite insurance and securities investigation company in existence. Their clients' financial information always included the same note: "Dollars reported in billions." Their employees had similar resumes including Ivy League education, blue-blood surnames and old money. Lots and lots of old money. 

Applying for the temporary assignment with KGA had included an ulterior motive. A reality check. No matter how hard she worked, no matter who professed to be her friend, and no matter who confessed their undying love, one truth remained constant. She could only advance so far in life. If her mother had shared any wisdom, it was that fact. 

"They love you. They fuck you. They forget you," the woman had repeated like a mantra. 

And that woman's three-step life cycle had proven true more times than should be remembered. Keeping up with stepfathers had been difficult but remembering the names of every boyfriend, uncle and "friend who needed a place to crash until he got back on his feet" was absolutely impossible. Her mother had entertained the best of the worst. Doctors, addicts, cops and parolees had made her mother moan while rocking that tiny trailer. 

Shaking her head, Eliza tucked those memories away. She would soon arrive on her first assignment and would prove to her employer that she was the right candidate. With a flick of her fingers, she removed a speck of lint from her new skirt. The sign-on bonus had been a welcome surprise providing some modest additions to her closet and a hefty deposit into her savings account. 

Her college wardrobe, which had consisted of grunge items found at the local Goodwill store, would have never been acceptable in her new environment. Even her interview suit had been a sale item straight from the clearance rack of a discount store. Resisting the temptation to splurge her entire bonus, Eliza had wisely purchased a few coordinating separates that could easily present a variety of ensembles over the next week. Her remaining funds would be needed for a lease deposit when she returned to headquarters. 

And she would return. She would be the golden child who represented good brains from bad blood or whatever the hell the snobs thought of her. In six days, she would present her report with infallible proof of her findings and accept the brief kudos while preparing for her next great caper. Looking at the file in her lap, she continued poring through the various attachments. 

The information read like any report. Client: Arliss-Randall Technologies. Industry: Computer/Electronic design. Clients: Healthcare, Automotive, Military. Annual Revenue: 4.82 (Dollars reported in billions.) Scanning the document, Eliza assessed the remaining information quickly. Established by brothers Arliss and Randall Myers approximately twenty seven years ago, publically traded company, petitioning for name change and currently managed by Randall's three sons. 

Turning the page, she searched for the reason for her assignment. Bingo. "On July 27th prototype was reported missing." Prototype of what? Reported by whom? Were the police involved? Why the delay in KGA's investigation? Questions continued to form but no more answers appeared to be provided. Snapping the file shut, Eliza leaned her head back and closed her eyes. 

Her orders had been simple. Publically, assess the potential threat of future issues. Secretly, find out what happened to the prototype and the person or persons responsible. No one at the facility could know her true assignment. The payout of a sizeable claim depended on her success and discretion. 

Glancing to the window, Eliza noticed the change in scenery. She had been greeted at the airport by the quiet driver and advised to make herself comfortable during the seven hour drive. Abandoning the interstate hours ago, they had driven through flat rural land for a couple of hours and now appeared to be moving up a noticeable incline with curves bending in the road. 

Fighting another surge of panic, Eliza reminded herself that there was a very practical reason for her client's reclusive location. Incorporated in Delaware, the base of operations had been listed as an "undisclosed location" which the KGA recruiter had explained as a necessary precaution to eliminate potential threats. Apparently, that precaution had proven to have been fallible. 

Leaning forward she asked, "I know that there's only so much you can tell me but we're not going to 1313 Mockingbird Lane or the former Bates Motel are we?" 

Breaking from his stoic character, the driver chuckled and answered, "No. Trust me, Ms. Wallen, you will love it. Everyone does." Reaching forward, he turned up the volume of the stereo preventing any further conversation. 

"Everyone loves it," Eliza considered in silent contemplation. Everyone loves it because, after agreeing to work with Arliss-Randall, everyone had no other choice. Recruited during their senior year of college, all employees were required to sign a confidentiality agreement restricting access to the world outside of the company's campus. According to the dossier, the area was nearly communal providing its residents with a variety of choices in retail, healthcare, education, etc. Headhunters were instructed to balance the ratio of men to women so employees could find romance if they so desired. 

Work here. Live here. Die here. 

When the music in the car suddenly ceased, Eliza leaned forward to see the ornate drive ahead. The landscaping in this remote area contained an inviting blend of tropical flowers in an array of colors and various species of cacti. Straining to see the area ahead, she leaned forward clutching the headrest. 

"Almost there, Ms. Wallen." 

"You can call me Eliza," she murmured out of habit. 

"No. Actually, I cannot. Strict code of ethics between Arliss-Randall employees and outsiders." 

Outsiders? Although she had been briefed on the necessity of remaining professional at all times, the thought of being considered an outsider for the next six days seemed a bit harsh. 

"The employees are also residents of the campus," the KGA recruiter had explained. "And while there is a strict code of ethics in their work, their personal lives may appear, uh, liberal." 

"Like a cult?" Eliza had asked. 

"Like a commune. This is why I must stress your adherence to company policy. Personal relationships with clients are forbidden." 

Eliza chuckled at the memories of the recruiter asking if she would be morally offended by the various lifestyles she may discover within the client's gated property. Refusing to explain the various lifestyles her mother had experienced, she had simply reminded the woman that four years in college had just about prepared her for anything. 

Anything but the good life. Eliza almost squealed as the car passed through the ornate wrought iron gates and proceeded through the property. Resisting the urge to clap her hands, she mentally noted the various shops and attractions that she wanted to see during her limited visit. Subconsciously fearing a group similar to the Stepford wives, she had smiled as they passed people on the street. Normal people representing nearly every demographic category. Their commonality was the friendly wave they offered. 

When the car turned a corner, Eliza gasped. No Bates Motel here. Judging from the tall blond beauty standing at the door, it was more likely the Playboy Mansion. Eliza swiped at any invisible particles hiding on her skirt, pushed the bridge of her glasses closer to her face, and prepared to meet her first contact. 

Refraining from opening her door, she patiently waited for the driver to exit the car and walk to her. She carefully swung her legs around and stood to her feet. After the long drive, she was thrilled to find her land legs strong and ready. She was not prepared for the warm, humid air that immediately dampened her pristine appearance.

Offering her hand in greeting, she had to bite her lip as the woman silently appraised her attire. The black, pencil skirt and white blouse were professional yet feminine. But the severity of the tight bun in her hair and the heavy, dark rimmed eye glasses created a foreboding air. She thought it was best to repel any attraction from the beginning. 

"Ms. Wallen," the woman finally said while accepting Eliza's outstretched hand. "Welcome to Arliss-Randall Technologies. I am Deborah Piedmont, Vice President of Human Resources. I will be your client liaison during your visit." 

"It is pleasure to meet you," Eliza responded in a monotone voice. "It seems a bit excessive to have a VP as my tour guide." 

"Due to the nature of your visit, following the recent debacle, management wanted to ensure KGA that we are willing to comply in every way." 

"Oh," Eliza responded, "Because it appears to be a significant shortening of my leash." 

Eliza watched as the woman's smile tightened and eyes flashed in anger. Bingo. She was here to do a job. Not to make a friend. 

Silently, the woman nodded her head and turned toward the door. Resisting the urge to remain motionless, Eliza noted the cold shoulder and followed obediently. Her luggage was being removed from the car's trunk and loaded on a dolly. Certainly, they would manage to deliver her belongings to the correct room. 

"As I'm sure you know, Arliss-Randall is managed by Jonathan, Thomas and Michael Westwright," Deborah explained barely looking over her shoulder. "They are the sons of one of the founders, Randall Westwright. They each serve as co-chair over the board of directors. I will escort you to Jonathan's office where they are waiting on your arrival." 

Eliza followed in silence observing the expensive furnishings surrounding her. The entrance was magnificent. A large fountain, created from stone and glass, dominated the foyer while plants and various pieces of art subtly accessorized the room. She wondered how much money was invested in a room that very few visitors would ever see. 

The VP of HR quickened her pace forcing Eliza to hurry pass the water structure. Whether the woman's motive was purposeful, personal or both, Eliza could only guess. But she did know that she had no ally in the woman. 

In her review of the client file, Eliza had drawn a couple of conclusions: 1) the perpetrator had high level security clearance to access the prototype and 2) that level of clearance was offered to very few employees of Arliss-Randall Technologies. 

With only six days on her calendar, she needed to focus on the possible and probable suspects. No need to schedule interviews with any more of the company's four hundred twenty five employees. She had her list of seven names. Seven names that belonged to very powerful people. And she was about to meet three of them. 

When Deborah led her through a set of glass doors, she briskly announced to a woman sitting at a desk, "She's here." 

"Take her in," the woman responded without looking up from her monitor. "Jonathan and Thomas are waiting." 

Refusing to be ignored, Eliza demanded, "Excuse me? Where is Michael?" 

The startled woman looked up from her work and turned toward the newcomer. Opening her mouth to speak, she paused when she got a look at Eliza. Watching the woman glance up and down her body made Eliza a little uncomfortable. Why did she care about this woman's opinion? 

"I am supposed to call him when you arrive," the assistant explained quietly. 

"Well? I have arrived," she continued in her terse voice. Only when she witnessed the woman reaching for her phone did she then turn to follow Deborah. Seeing the men in the next room made her stop in her tracks. 

The employees she had met so far appeared to be high level security guards protecting their most treasured detail. And these men were that detail. Laughing at what must have been an ill played shot, the men were standing by a putting green designed for office use. Probably custom designed for this office. 

"Excuse me," Deborah announced. "The auditor from Keystone Global has arrived." 

"Yeah, they called from the gate," one of the men answered without looking toward them. "Let us know when she gets here." When he took his shot on the green, he turned and exclaimed, "Oh shit! She's here, Tommy. Damn girl, did you run?" 

"Actually, I was escorted very quickly through the entrance," Eliza explained stepping forward. "My name is Eliza Wallen and I am with Keystone Global ..." She stopped when the man put up a hand. 

"We know why you're here," he said offering his hand to shake. "I'm Jonathan. I oversee the sales and marketing division of Arliss-Randall. And that's my brother, Thomas, who takes care of the checkbook." 

Accepting his hand, Eliza looked from one man to another. Mentally noting to request photographs before her next assignment, she quickly tried to learn each man's features without appearing to stare. And she would have been content to stare. 

Jonathan, blond and blue eyed, was about six foot five with broad shoulders on his otherwise lean build. She had met his kind before. He was definitely the all-star quarterback. Something about his grin confirmed his confidence on and off the field. 

In comparison, Thomas was slightly shorter and considerably leaner. His auburn hair complimented the dark green eyes which sparkled like emeralds. He too was friendly in a little less cocky way. Oh yeah, he was the running back. 

"Actually, I oversee the finance division," Thomas clarified as he shook her hand. "My brother measures value by the dollars in his pocket." 

Eliza smiled while struggling for a reply. "Where's Michael?" she inwardly cringed as soon as the direct words escaped her lips. 

"I'm sure he's around," Jonathan answered, withdrawing slighting. "He knows you need to meet with us. Do you play, Eliza?" 

"Play?" she asked, dreading an immediate confrontation with these men. 

"Golf," he answered with a smile. "Or anything else exciting." 

"No, I never," she stopped before admitting that she never had the money, "I never really had the time." 

"Of course not," Thomas added, taking his turn at the green. "Completely a double degree program in four years would allow very little time for fun and games." Taking his shot, he turned and added, "But you're a big girl now." 

"Who still has limited time. Can someone direct me to Michael's office and I will find him myself." 

"Actually, I have a map of the campus for you," Deborah said from the doorway. "With a list of office locations and employees in those offices. And here is your security card. The magnetic swipe will give you access to all areas. Michael should be in the lab which is right here," she added, pointing to an area at the far end of the building. "Since I'm no longer needed, I will leave you now." 

Eliza stood in silence watching the woman leave her alone with the two men. Looking back to the brothers, she almost stomped her foot when she noticed that they were more concerned with their game than they were with her assignment. Without another word, she left the office and walked to the area Deborah had indicated on the map. 

Swiping the card at the appropriate door, she stepped through in search of the absent brother. Only one person was in the room. Dark hair, pale skin, very thin. He squinted through his silver framed glasses as he focused on the monitor in front of him. Oh well, not every family could totally escape the geek gene. If one brother was the quarterback and another was the running back, this guy was definitely the water boy. 


Adjusting To Normal Ch. 01



"Excuse me," she snapped a little louder than she had intended. She instantly regretted her harsh tone when he jumped, knocking over papers, pencils and an empty coffee cup. 

"Wh-what?" he squeaked. Good lord, he looked like he could cry. 

"I apologize for startling you," Eliza said softening her tone. "My name is Eliza Wallen from KGA and I've been waiting on you." 

"Me?" 

"Yes," she said hearing the return of her impatience. "Should I call you Michael or do you prefer Mr. Westwright?" 

"What? Why? No! God, no!" 

"Why not?" she demanded, approaching his work table. "Then what the hell should I call you?" 

"Simon," a man said from behind her. "Because he's not Michael Westwright. I am." 

Turning slowly, Eliza came face to face with the man. Or face to chest to be more accurate. Her gaze traveled up his chest, to his throat, jaw, full lips and finally the dark brown eyes glaring at her. She gulped when he took a step toward her. The family had escaped the geek gene. This guy was the entire defensive line. 

"I've heard that, in less than twenty minutes, you've managed to disrupt the work flow considerably," he said with a low voice. "In addition, you've offended Jonathan's assistant and the Vice President of Human Resources. Everyone is already anxious over the recent events. Alienating yourself from them will not help your case." 

"I apologize if I have appeared abrupt," she said forcing a smile. "But their instant offense could be the result of guilt." 

"Guilt?" he repeated stepping closer. "You've got to be kidding me. If anyone here represents guilt sweetheart, it's you. Or your employer." 

"Me?" 

"Our security system was custom designed, implemented and maintained by KGA. Didn't you know that?" 

"I did," she lied. And instantly knew that he caught her lie. 

"Today is shot," he informed her as he walked away. "We'll start your interviews tomorrow. " 

Oh no, she thought with rising panic. He is trying to take control of her investigation. 

"I've prepared a schedule for you," he continued handing her a sheet of paper. "It coordinates who, when and where you will meet." 

He tried and succeeded. The control was his. 

Looking at the schedule, she noticed that her interview with him was exactly one hour before her scheduled departure on Tuesday. Placing the paper in her folio, she set the leather binder on the table and took a deep breath. 

"No." 

"No?" he repeated. "There was no question posed. Take it or leave it."

"I leave it," she answered, thankful she was able to talk without buckling. "Although it's not really my choice. I follow my employer's orders. Not yours." Turning away, she walked to the door and swiped the keycard still clutched in her hand. 

"Eliza," he said in a tone that forced her to stop and turn to him. "Go to your room. Order a meal from the commissary. We have a staff meeting in the auditorium tomorrow morning at nine. Be there. We'll decide where to go from there." 

With a nod of her head, she stepped through the door and walked to the elevators. Only then did she realize that she had left her binder with the map on the lab table. Looking back down the hall, she wondered if she should return to fetch her information or find the Human Resource office and beg for a replacement. Before moving, she flipped the key card over and found her name and room number printed on the back. 

Safe? No. Convenient? Hell, yeah. 

The elevator car transported her to the tenth floor in solitary confinement. She enjoyed the return to quiet even if it would only be for a few hours. Today sucked. There was no other way to describe the fiasco. Contemplating a change in her behavior, Eliza decided to stay on her chosen path. Even Michael had agreed to meet and decide their plans tomorrow. 

The thought of Michael sent her pulse racing. For a brief moment, she had been scared. Eliza feared failure more than bodily harm. Within seconds he had confronted and silenced her. Taking charge was a sign of strength. If he hadn't defeated her, she would have admired him. 

When the elevator doors opened, she stepped into a pleasant corridor that appeared more residential than commercial. She knew employees lived on the campus, but she had assumed that it would be in another building. Finding her room, she swiped the key card for hopefully the last time that day. 

When the door opened, she remained where she stood and noticed everything in front of her. The room, while small, was exquisitely decorated. Her luggage was present and ready to be unpacked. And the view boasted the most beautiful scene she could have imagined. 

Growing up in poverty, her vacations had included trips to lakes, rivers and amusement parks. Fun for a kid but not much to brag about as an adult. She stepped across the threshold and straight to the balcony before her. Stepping into the balmy breeze, she immediately regretted her harsh attitude towards the staff. Now, she wanted to stay here forever and stare at the ocean and beautiful sunset. 

She had flown to California so this must be the Pacific, but whether or not she was in another state, she could only guess. Her day had started before dawn and was now ending at sunset. No matter how bad everything else had been, she would not have missed this for anything in the world. 

Within the hour, she had watched the sun disappear into the night and had unpacked her suitcase while waiting for her supper to arrive. When she finished the last bite of food, she paused and thought through her most recent chain of events. She had come to her room and eaten her dinner alone just as he had ordered. 

With a feminine growl, she pushed the plates aside and stomped to the bathroom for a quick shower. The amenities must have been rated five-star. Although she had remembered to pack all necessary toiletries, she could not resist the various soaps and lotions displayed in the grass baskets. After an hour of soaking and primping, Eliza was ready to hit the sack. 

Slipping into her new satin robe, she turned down the covers on the bed and shut out the lights. Stretching on the pillow top mattress, she closed her eyes and listened to the distant roar of the ocean. And then she opened her eyes. After years of listening to her mother and dorm roommates making various nocturnal noises, she was not going to drift into an easy sleep in this ideal state. 

Jumping up, she searched for her suitcase which contained her dirty little secret. The historical romance novel was worn and ripped but it had only cost fifteen cents at the paperback store. Turning on the bedside lamp, she easily found her dog-eared page and picked up on the story of the pirate and the virgin. 

Scanning the descriptive scenes, Eliza learned that the frightened young woman had been discovered as a stowaway. She was now waiting for the captain to serve his personal brand of justice which usually included a gang rape courtesy of the crew. But not this guy. No. Unbeknownst to the maiden, the pirate captain had been betrayed by a once trusted friend and now he sailed the dangerous seas searching for the one witness who could prove his innocence. He was a noble man with a bright smile, deep pockets and a huge cock according to the tavern wenches. 

When the captain finally entered his cabin the scene played out like every other steamy sex scene in these books. Ignoring the generic model on the front cover, Eliza pictured her own version of a hero. Tall. Strong. Rich. And willing to overlook her family history. The face remained a blur as her handsome sailor gently placed the woman on his bed. 

Without realizing it, Eliza stretched her legs and flexed her toes, slowly moving in the rhythm described in the text. She started rubbing her thighs together as the captain kissed a path down the girl's body until his tongue delved between her moist folds. Quickly becoming frustrated, Eliza flipped her robe open and found her own heated flesh. 

When her chilled fingers touched the sensitive nub, she bucked her hips and cried out loud. Inexperience was not her friend as she struggled to find the motion and speed to satisfy her need. Dropping the book to the floor, she imagined the next part. He would raise himself up to look at her. Bracing his weight on his arms, he would stare into her eyes. And she finally saw his face. 

His dark eyes were no longer angry with her but he remained silent. Her vision took the form of the man she had argued with only a few hours earlier. As his dream form moved over her body, her fingers found the circular motion that threw her craving into high gear. With her knees in the air, she continued thrusting her hips against the fingers, frantically rubbing her hardening nub. 

Just as the sensation escalated into a roar, she arched her back and moaned as she neared her orgasm. Then someone started pounding on the door. Immediately pulling her fingers away, she sat up on the bed staring at the door in confusion. 

A second set of pounding confirmed that she had not imagined the intrusion. Who could it be? Looking at the table laden with dishes, she cringed. She had forgotten to put the tray in the hall as instructed. Standing, she tightened the belt of her robe, kicked the romance novel under the bed and walked to the door. 

Just as she jerked the door open, the impatient fist was raised and prepared to hit the door once more. Gasping in shock, she stepped back before he struck and stared into the eyes of her dream lover. Except he was angry. Again. 

"Sorry to interrupt," he barked loudly. "You left this in the lab." 

She stared mutely at the binder in his hands. Foolishly she realized that he would have insisted she keep his assigned schedule with her at all times. She could feel the heat of her blush across her face and throat and then thought she would die when he looked around the room. He turned back to her, now understanding the act and correctly guessing the cast of the event he had just interrupted. 

Reaching for the binder in his hand, Eliza gasped when he pulled the book away and grabbed her outstretched fingers. He pulled them close to his lips closing his eyes as he inhaled. In muted shock, Eliza realized that her embarrassment was shifting to another emotion. When he opened his eyes, she saw the same passion reflected in the darkening depths. 

Michael gently wrapped his lips around her index finger earning a quick moan of pleasure and approval. He gently sucked at the juices clinging to her soft skin, tasting the pleasure that she never shared with another. The heat from his mouth soared through her body and rested in the pit of her stomach. His mouth on her fingertips was creating pleasure that her fingers had been unable to provide. 

When he had savored the last of her juices, he stood there silently waiting. Eliza knew that he was giving her an opportunity to say no but she was unable to speak. Turning around she remembered her mother, her employer's policy, her personal promise and the investigation assigned to her. None of it mattered. The tormenting desire that fluttered in the bottom of her belly was everything. 

She looked over her shoulder and was immediately rewarded. Michael pressed close to her back claiming her lips in a kiss that was gentle but unbreakable. He tugged at the belt of her robe and soon had full access to her naked flesh. Immediately searching for the void she had recently left, he reached between her thighs and slowly traced one finger up and down the moist slit. She wondered if he liked the smooth skin surrounding her entrance. 

He broke the kiss as he covered one of her breasts with his free hand. She stared into his eyes pleading for something she could not define. With a gasp, she collapsed against his chest as his finger entered her slowly. He knew how to give the pleasure that she had not been able to give her own body. Bucking her hips against his hand, Eliza cried out with a moan. She stretched her arm up and cupped her hand around the back of his neck with a need to touch him. No; she needed to be anchored to him. 

Michael quickened his pace as he massaged her sensitive flesh. But when he kissed the spot behind her ear, she thought her nervous system would explode. Bright lights blinded her vision as she quivered in his arms. 

"Oh, god," she whimpered as the muscles tightened and then surrendered to the passion. Darkness replaced the blinding lights and she released the breath that she had held too long. 

She had no idea how long they stood there. Michael held her against his firm body and she clutched at him as a drowning woman would grab at a lifeline. When she could breathe again, she looked up and was surprised to see him smiling. 

"You need this as much as I do," he whispered. "Climb up on the bed. There. On your knees. Bend over." 

Eliza realized that she obediently followed his orders with no hesitation. When he pressed her shoulders down to the mattress, she panicked for a small moment. But then she agreed with him. He was right, of course. She needed this. Whatever "this" was. 

The sound of his shirt falling to the floor echoed in her ears. Was this was really happening? She shivered when she heard him unzip his jeans. Should she say something? She considered how she could interrupt his motions to explain her predicament. When his warm skin touched hers, she reminded herself that soon enough there would be nothing to explain. 

Michael's hands returned to her body preparing her for the next step. She shivered in a mixture of fear and desire. When he removed his fingers, Eliza tensed. It would be soon. Ignoring the consequences, she moved against the warm flesh seeking entry. With a push of his hips, he entered her. And the scales of anticipation tipped in favor of fear. Speechless, she blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. 

Breathing deeply, she reasoned that fear was not an option and since he had yet to break through any barriers, pain was not yet the issue. Then she felt him rock back and forward tearing through an insignificant membrane that would serve no purpose in her life again. Gasping, Eliza was relieved that he was unable to see her face. 

"What the hell?" he growled. "God, you're tight." 

Fearing that he would stop now and be even angrier than before, Eliza relied on the only experience she had had until now. What would her mother do?

"Fuck me," she pleaded. "Please don't stop. Fuck me." 

And he did. For a moment, Eliza feared that he would tear her flesh or permanently damage necessary organs. When he touched her breasts, her body responded with renewed excitement. And the scales tipped toward desire. He gently massaged and pinched her nipples while rocking in and out of her body. The familiar sensation reignited in her stomach forcing her to press back into his thrusts, searching for the source of her pleasure. 

Increasing the tempo, Michael continued moving inside her until she heard the sound of his skin slapping against hers. Knowing that he was buried inside of her gave Eliza an undefined rush. She had survived and was now experiencing the same thrill that enslaved her mother and all of her college acquaintances. She would separate the act from the emotions swirling through her mind. Tomorrow. Tonight, she was loving this. 

When he moved his hand from her breast to her stomach, she knew that she would not last much longer. As soon as he reached between her legs, she bucked her hips into him and tightened the canal filled with so much pleasure. Her arms shook in rebellion against her weight and with a second wave of euphoria gave way as she screamed through her release. 

Michael remained still until she released her death grip on the sheets. When she looked over her shoulder, he move out of her and helped her turn onto her back. She could see that he was still hard. Could he see that she was near death? Certainly he would allow her time to rest. 

She moaned when he wrapped his fingers around her ankles. Her eyes widened as he pressed her knees to her chest and leaned forward. Always ready for confrontation, Eliza was unprepared for the gentleness of his lips. He moved slowly from her lips, across her jaw and down her throat. When he dipped to her breasts she tried to move against his body but was trapped under the bend of her knees. 

"This is crazy," he whispered against her ribs. "I need more."

"Yes," she replied pulling his head closer to her. "Take more." 

Releasing her ankles, Michael positioned himself at her entrance. Eliza held her breath and closed her eyes as she braced for the pain. She trembled as his fingers moved to her thighs. And she waited for his next move. And waited. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes to see him watching her. 

"Why do you hide?" 

"What?" 

"Hide behind those glasses. Hide your hair."

Eliza could only shake her head and breathe a sigh of relief when he smiled and moved into her. Slowly he rocked back and forth never breaking eye contact. After a few moments, she felt the rhythm and swayed her hips into his. With the absence of pain, her passion was immediate and soaring. 

"Keep hiding," he said in a low voice. "From everyone except me."

With a nod, she pulled his head close and gave him a kiss. He responded by increasing the tempo until the bed was groaning beneath them. Wincing when she felt him touch deep within her, Eliza pulled her knees up and tilted her hips. The tingling sensation started in her stomach and slowly moved through her body. 

When the passion claimed her for a second time, she held onto Michael's arms and buried her face in his chest to muffle her cries. She felt him wrap his hand through her hair and pull her head back. 

"Don't hide from me," he growled as he adjusted to her new position. 

Holding on to his arms, Eliza surrendered to the wave racking through her body and screamed his name. In her daze, she barely registered the fact that Michael was following quickly behind her. When he collapsed on her body, she lifted her hand to his head and threaded her fingers through his hair. Holding him close seemed so right. 

Rolling to the side, Michael wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I wish I could stay but I can't. I have to go home." 

"You're married," she groaned against his shoulder. 

"Uh, no. And shouldn't you have asked before the sex?"

"I don't know," she mumbled hoping she was hiding her embarrassment. "I'm a little confused. I mean, I'm tired." 

"Yeah," he said moving away to grab his jeans. "So get some sleep. Your interviews start tomorrow after the staff meeting." 

"Still insisting that I use your schedule? Are you hiding something or protecting someone?" 

"Protecting someone," he explained, leaning close to kiss her. "This isn't just about a theft. And while you should have asked if I was married before the sex, you really should have asked why KGA would recruit you for this job." 

"I'm qualified," she complained. 

"Very," he agreed as he finished dressing. "And that just might save your life. I'll see you in the morning."



Adjusting To Normal Ch. 02



Eliza groaned when the annoying alarm woke her from a sound sleep. Why a clock manufacturer would choose the same alarm used in a nuclear plant emergency was beyond her understanding. Stretching her arm across the pillows she slapped at the small machine until it became silent. Whether she hit the snooze or off button she couldn't guess, but silence was now her favorite sound. 

In her foggy mind she struggled to understand why she felt so tired. A rough start to a new job had left her exhausted. Remembering the series of events, Eliza tried to differentiate between reality and dreams. Long trip, confrontations with the staff, and sleeping in a different bed would all be culprits for physical fatigue. But the strange dreams had drained her energy. 

In the solitary darkness of her room Eliza could feel the blush warming her face as she remembered. Seeing him at the door, feeling his hands on her body, and everything that followed was a dream she would not forget any time soon. She considered how he would react if he had a clue. Well of course Michael Westwright would snarl, sneer, growl and then tell her what he really thought of her. 

Acknowledging her failure to make a good first impression, Eliza stretched her limbs and froze. In a panic she held her breath and tried to process the reality of her actions. There had been no dream. 

She contemplated calling someone for help. Police? Nurse? Mom? That one made her laugh. Maybe her former roommate would be able to walk her through the next phase. Eliza tried to imagine the conversation. 

"Hey it's me. Eliza. Eliza Wallen? Your roommate last year? Slept across the room from you and whoever the hell made you pant and scream through most of the night? Still don't remember? Oh well, never mind. Anyway just had sex and needed some advice. What? You can't help? Oh, I see. Too many years and even more guys since your first time. Oh well, thanks anyway." 

Eliza pulled the blanket over her head and groaned. One day in the real world and she had managed to screw up. Just like Michael said, she should have asked some questions before the sex. Now, she was drowning in guilt from her actions. Yeah, she may not have been alone but she would be the sole owner of the consequences. If living with her mother had taught her anything it was that she would be responsible for anything that happened. 

Turning on her side, Eliza pulled her knees to her chest and tried to assess the damage. Her body was sore but not injured. Women did this every day but with better planning. She was stuck here for five more days so immediate remedies were out of the question. She had no other choice but to wait until returning home to see a doctor. 

It was just one time. Or was it two? Did it count as two for him? What were the odds of anything happening from one night? Too many people were unable to have children. Certainly she wouldn't get pregnant the first time. She doubted he had any diseases because guys like that didn't just sleep with anybody, right? 

"Damn," she whispered in the dark room. "He did with you. And that's all that matters right now." 

The questions continued pounding in her mind, most were focused on her failures, until she finally took a deep breath and tossed the covers aside. Rising from the bed, Eliza took a moment to find her balance before heading to the shower. She avoided glancing in the mirror as she turned on the water and found a clean towel. 

"Learn from your mistakes," she mumbled before stepping under the warm spray of water. 

Her shower was thorough and efficient. When she felt as clean as humanly possible, she shut off the water and reached for the towel. Rubbing the thick terrycloth across her skin, Eliza then squeezed the excess water from her hair and reached for her robe. 

Flipping the satin material around, she froze when the dark stain caught her eye. Staring at another reminder of her mistake, she slowly turned to look in the mirror. Prepared to find some signs of the event, she was surprised at the sight of her reflection. 

Her skin, flushed pink from the warm water, had no signs of trauma. Not even a bruise was left on her pale flesh. She looked at the eyes staring back at her and wondered where she had lost control. Years of keeping her knees together had ended, forgotten, within seconds of being alone with him. And yet she stood here completely naked with nothing to show for it. 

There was no physical evidence but all sorts of sensations. Eliza watched in silence as her hands moved to her breasts. The simple contact instantly reminded her of another's touch that had sent her out of control. Tracing her fingers down, over her flat stomach, she stopped when her conscience reminded her how last night had started. Frustrated, she wrapped a towel around her body and left the bathroom. 

Checking the time, Eliza decided to review her files and prepare for the day. Now that she had met most of the people on her list, she needed to interview them and begin a process of elimination. In two hours she would make an appearance with the staff of Arliss-Randall Technologies and she needed to be ready. 

One day was lost and the only thing she could do about it was avoid repeating the same mistake. As she sat on the bed, Eliza opened her folio and watched the offending schedule slide to the floor. Tempted to let it lie, she grumbled as she leaned forward to snatch the sheet of paper. A quick glance under the bed revealed the paperback that she had been reading earlier and a wrapper of some sort. 

Snatching the three items, Eliza sat back on the bed and surveyed her findings. The paperback, now blamed as the source of her downfall, was tossed in the trash. The schedule was returned to the leather binder that she would use throughout the day. But the wrapper held her attention. Was it too much to hope that Michael had been the previous owner of this little foil pack?

Kneeling on the floor, she searched under the bed. Clean. Not one single dust bunny was hiding on the carpet. Obviously the room had been thoroughly prepared for her arrival. And yet, she had no idea how to ask him if had been responsible enough to use the former contents of this wrapper. 

She paced the floor, trying to regain control of her emotions but struggled against her guilt. Yesterday had been bad. She had failed to use the time wisely and now she needed to work harder on her assignment. Last night, well, last night was an experience that she needed to forget and never repeat. 

Glancing at the table, she decided to order some breakfast. Maybe she would function better on a full stomach. She grabbed the phone, placed the order and started clearing away last night's dinner dishes. When she had placed the tray outside her door, she began separating and organizing her files according to priority. 

With her public binder complete with the damn schedule ready to go, Eliza began reading the content of her client's dossier. Words that she had skimmed across earlier now popped from the page. Apparently, Arliss-Randall had been experiencing a run of bad luck. Her assignment was hardly their first claim, she learned as she read their experience history. In less than a year the company had filed a claim for a house fire, car accident, death of a member and several other losses. 

According to KGA's findings, all claims had received the same verdict: Denied. Copies of the denials were included in Eliza's file and included a summary of findings that supported the decision. The presence of accelerants had been a key piece of evidence in ruling the house fire as arson. The car accident had been denied because the owner had neglected to provide certified maintenance for the vintage model, bragging to everyone that he had restored and maintained the car himself. And the wrongful death had been "regrettably denied because no evidence could be found refuting the original cause as suicide". 

Eliza read the findings again, engrossed in the history that she had neglected earlier. Flipping through the file in search of police reports, she nearly fell out of her chair when someone knocked on the door. 

"Just a sec," she called as she closed the file and raced to the bathroom for her robe. Walking to the door, she said, "Wow that was fast. I thought it would take at least..." 

"Good morning," 

"Good morning," she returned. "I, uh, thought you were breakfast. I mean, I thought you were delivering breakfast." 

"I'm escorting you to breakfast," he explained. "You didn't read the schedule."

"I, uh, yeah, I thought, I know I did." Eliza turned away to retrieve the stupid sheet of paper and have one moment away from his scrutiny. "Here it is. Breakfast, Blue Room, 8:00. There's nothing here that says I'm supposed to attend." 

"It's your schedule," he said moving to stand behind her. "Why would I give you someone else's schedule?" 

"Well it doesn't say anything about your escort service. Wait. That didn't sound right. I meant..." 

She stopped when he started laughing. Suddenly his dark, angry features were replaced by something very different. When he smiled, he looked younger. She watched as he struggled to control himself and realized that she had never taken the time to really look at him. In her experience, these guys were never interested in her so she had learned to avoid the temptation and heartache. 

Last night, she had noticed his jeans and t-shirt and when he was no longer wearing them. But now, Michael appeared as relaxed dressed in his executive attire as he did in casual. Although he was now silently watching her, Eliza continued staring at the man before her. 

He was very handsome with dark hair and dark eyes. But he was so big. Much taller than his brothers, he towered over Eliza's petite form. His chest was where her gaze would return and not just because it was on her eye level. There was something about the broad expanse that she found comforting. He looked strong enough to defend or hold the person he loved. 

He presented a package that she couldn't resist. Hadn't resisted. Would she if given another chance?

"We need to talk," he said finally breaking the silence.

"No. Oh, no. God, no," was all she could say dropping her gaze to the floor. "Please don't." 

Placing his finger against her face, he stroked his thumb over her bottom lip and added, "Ignoring it doesn't make it go away, Eliza." 

When she looked up, he saw the expression on her face and dropped his hand.

"I'm not ignoring anything," she said with obvious strain in her voice. "I'll deal with it as soon as I return home." 

"Deal with it? By yourself? Is that how you choose to live?" 

"It's the life chosen for me," she snapped, stepping around him. "If you will excuse me, I suppose I should cancel room service."

"Done."

"Then I need to get dressed. I'm sure that I can find the Blue Room on my own." 

"No." 

"No?" 

"Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me. For breakfast and anything else that involves me." 

"Fine," she mumbled standing in front of her closet. "I'll mail you the bill for the abortion." 

"Eliza." When he didn't continue, she turned around and found him standing at the table holding the mysterious wrapper between his fingers. "There should be no need for an abortion. But that doesn't mean an accident couldn't happen." 

"It was yours," she simply stated. 

"It was mine." 

"Thank you," she barely whispered and turned back to her clothes. She wanted to jump for joy, shout from the roof but she stood there trembling as she fought the tears filling her eyes. "I need a few minutes to get dressed. You don't have to wait. I'll be there on time." 

She felt, rather than heard, him move behind her. When his arms wrapped around her waist, she held her breath and waited. 

"I prefer to walk with you," he whispered against her ear. 

She leaned back into his warmth finding strength that she had never sought in anyone else. Resting her cheek against his chest, she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, so opposite from her own. She glanced up to see his eyes just before he leaned towards her. 

The kiss was soft and slow, unlike the insanity from last night. With a small moan she parted her lips and allowed his tongue to trace the entrance of her mouth. Turning in his arms, she stretched her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His hands moved along her rib cage never touching her breasts or reaching for the belt of her robe. Just when she felt the hold on her passion slide away, he stopped. 

With a quick kiss to her lips he pulled away from her embrace. "We can't do this," he said in a lower voice. 

"Yeah," she replied, amazed at how small her voice sounded. "We shouldn't." 

"I mean we don't have time right now," he explained, walking to the bathroom. "Get dressed. And please wear a jacket. That damn librarian-stripper look you had yesterday nearly drove me insane." 

***

An hour later Eliza was sitting at large round table with every member of the Randall-Arliss executive team. While some wore business suits others wore more casual clothes or uniforms. Apparently, the leadership team included everyone from the vice presidents to the directors of less glamorous departments. Glancing at the employee list Deborah had so ungenerously provided yesterday, Eliza discovered a discrepancy in the numbers. 

"Whachya doin there?" the pretty woman next to her asked. "Working? Well don't let one of the big three see you. They insist that we have this breakfast every Friday with no shop talk. And that includes last minute studying." 

"Uh, no," Eliza finally said. "I'm trying to place the names to the roster that I have, but there seems to be two people at the table who are not on my list." 

"Oh, that's probably Kimberly and Olivia. See?" she explained, pointing across the table. "They're Jonathan and Thomas' wives but not employees. Just one big happy family," she added with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "I'm Brooke by the way. Director of ancillary services which is basically everything that is necessary but totally boring or disgusting." 

"I would have guessed that you were more involved with athletics or employee health." 

"Nope. That belongs to your Royal Highness Deborah Piedmont. And she doesn't let anyone near her turf." 

"So I've learned," Eliza mumbled. "By the way, I'm ..." 

"Eliza Wallen. We know. Everyone knows. Since the theft, we've been waiting for KGA to get off their ass and send an adjuster but I have to admit, you aren't exactly what we were expecting."

"What do you mean?" 

"Well," Brooke started in a much quieter voice, "with all of the delays, we were expecting some tough cop kind of guy to show up and start interrogating us. You seem quite harmless." 

"It's an assessment. Not an interrogation. But maybe I'm just one part of the investigation." 

"Wouldn't you know?" 

"No. I suppose I wouldn't," Eliza confessed, feeling a sense of dread creeping into her thoughts. "But I have an agenda with very practical questions for certain people so maybe I will provide some direction for the firm to follow." 

"That sucks." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Everyone had hoped that you would do whatever you do, leave and send a check next week. This claim is destroying us." 

"Why?" 

"Well because ..." 

"Hey you two," Jonathan called from across the table, "Looks like you're talking business. Brooke, you know the rules. Ah, here comes the food." 

When everyone's attention was turned toward the wait staff and their trays, Eliza leaned towards Brooke and whispered, "Can we talk after the meal? I'd like to clarify some questions." 

With a simple nod Brooke looked away and joined the others in conversations about family, friends, vacations and other topics that Eliza could neither understand nor participate. The group at the table appeared to enjoy the fellowship and food as they teased and joked about politics ands with similar animosity softened by the announcement of an upcoming birthday or expecting couple. 

Eliza remained silent and steadily grew more uncomfortable in the midst of this close pack. She had never considered herself depressed, just realistic. As the joking and laughing continued, she silently contemplated her future. She had always considered herself executive material because of her serious devotion to the task at hand. But now, she realized that she may lack the social skills needed to not only climb the corporate ladder but also survive the business world. 

Glancing around the table she noticed the faces, animated with excitement, while either telling or listening to a story. The curve of the table hindered her view of Michael but she could hear him laughing at Thomas' account of one particular year at summer camp. Even she had to smile when the climax of the story revealed a practical joke gone awry. 

Eliza continued to watch each member of the group silently until she felt hairs prickle on her neck. Her attempt to be nonchalant failed when she caught the two women whispering with pointed glances in her direction. After yesterday, she had mentally slotted Deborah as a potentially hostile witness but now she could probably add one of the wives to the list. 

Resisting the urge to drop her gaze, Eliza continued watching the women. No doubt this Westwright wife could give any beauty contestant a decent challenge but there was something odd about the woman's expression. She struggled to smile at a photograph passed to her. The practiced turn of her pink lips revealed perfect white teeth in a smile so bright even Eliza felt pleased to see it. But the light of her smile never entered her eyes. 

Passing the picture along, the woman said something and laughed before turning her attention back to the newcomer. And then Eliza saw it. The fake smiles and laughs could barely hide the sorrow dominating this woman's life. Switching her gaze from the woman to Deborah, she wondered why one was so sad when the other was so angry. 

The quiet evaluation ended when Jonathan rose from his chair tapping his water glass with his knife. "May I please have your attention?" he asked, continually tapping the glass until the impact shattered the fragile goblet, showering his neighbors with ice water. "Damn! It looks so easy on TV." 

"Now they know why your family refuses to sit near you," Michael explained as staff quickly brought towels to their aid. 

"Shut up, man," Jonathan mumbled. "Sammy, I'm sorry. Take the rest of the day off," he offered, receiving a round of laughter. "Ok, I'll make this quick." 

"Thank you," Sammy mumbled with a chuckle as he picked ice from his lap. 

"Tonight's banquet will not include the announcements that we had anticipated but it will still be a hell of a celebration. Another successful quarter that exceeded our budget and wildest expectations has given us a chance to share profits not only with you but also with the entire staff." He paused as the group murmured in agreement. "I am requesting that you remind everyone in your department to be present and in appropriate attire..." he paused, looking across the table at a younger man. 

"You said black tie," the man replied in his defense. "I wore a black tie." 

"And Nikes," Jonathan added before continuing. "Formal dress code people and if you don't know what it means, ask. Anyway, please keep the bonuses quiet. We would like for it to be a surprise." 

Everyone applauded when he finished and returned to his seat. As the meeting ended and the group prepared to leave, Eliza was surprised how happy the managers appeared to be for their staff. Turning in her seat, she noticed that Brooke was twisting her napkin and staring at her lap. 

"You don't agree with profit sharing?" 

"Oh, no. I mean, yes, yes certainly I do. It's just the other part. Have you ever tried to convince a garbage man to wear a tux? Half of my staff has already decided to call in sick tonight and the dress code will send the others running for the border."  




Adjusting To Normal Ch. 02



"It's a party. Who doesn't like a party?" 

"Do you, Eliza?" 

"Well, sure, but I'm not attending tonight. But if I were an employee here, I think I would be excited to dress up and attend a banquet." 

"Why aren't you attending?" Brooke asked. "I thought attendance was mandatory." 

"Of course she is," Michael interrupted from behind them. "Ms. Wallen is apparently confused about her schedule but she will certainly join us tonight. I plan on escorting her." 

"Oh," Brooke replied to him and then added, "Oh" with a look at Eliza that held more meaning. 

Feeling the blush from her embarrassment heating her cheeks, Eliza barely noticed when Michael escorted her from the room. If anyone spoke to her, she was sure that she had responded like a drooling moron. When they walked into the lab, she realized that his hand was still clasped to her elbow and steering her toward the direction of his choice. 

"Let me go," she snapped jerking her arm from his hold. "I'm not going to your banquet tonight. I don't care what your damn schedule says." 

"You are, but why wouldn't you want to? I heard you tell Brooke that you'd enjoy it." 

"I'm not prepared for a formal event. I didn't even bring Nikes." 

"We have stores. Didn't you see them when you arrived...?" 

"I'm not buying a dress for one night. In five days, I'm going home. Grad school. A place where Nikes are a luxury. If I bought something now, it would be five years out of style before I had the chance to wear it again." 

"We will make some arrangements for you." 

"No," she replied. "This is an assignment. Not a shopping spree. Why did you bring me here anyway?" 

"You look like you needed some space from everyone." 

"And the lab has the perfect space?" 

"Away from everyone," he added gently while ushering her through the room. When they had reached the far wall, he led her through a door into an area that appeared to be used for storage. "This corner is the only space hidden from the surveillance monitors," he explained, spinning her around until her back rested against the wall. 

Silently, she waited for his next move. When he remained still, she started thinking about what he had said. There was a space in the lab outside of security's view. Security that had been installed by her employer. She looked over his shoulder and realized that the area was large enough for a person to step behind the shelves with something in their hands. 

"But wouldn't they be seen?" she asked. 

"When?" 

"When they left," she said, looking around the area. "We may be hidden now but certainly we'll move in front of the monitors when we leave."

"Sure, just like anyone in this department would do several times a day." 

Eliza surveyed the material surrounding them. Boxes, bubble wrap, foam popcorn, and tape were some of the items within easy reach. An item could be brought in, packaged and carried out. 

"But the tapes would show someone carrying the item in here," she continued aloud. "How big was that prototype thing?" 

"Thing?" he asked with a smile. "In its container, which is also missing and required to charge the unit, it is approximately the size of a shoebox." 

"What is it exactly?" 

"Simple answer: mechanical automation." 

"Who was the last person to have it?" 

Michael leaned close, touching his forehead to hers. When he kissed her, she could feel something more than passion in his touch. Reading his desperation, she knew that he was preparing to tell her something he did not want to say. And she was certain that she did not want to hear it. He pulled away and answered her question. 

"Me."

***

Waiting for the driver to open the door, Eliza patiently sat in the car. Before she could ask Michael any more questions they had been interrupted by one of his assistants. He had escorted her to the boring staff meeting, and then directed her toward the next appointment on her schedule which had proven to be another waste of time. The security guard had been on duty the night of the theft but had seen nothing out of the ordinary. After offering her a DVD copy of the security film, he escorted her to the door explaining that he was simply following Mr. Michael Westwright's instructions. 

Stepping from the car she noticed the various shops that she had admired less than twenty-four hours earlier. As she stood alone on the street, she scanned the schedule trying to determine which appointment would be here. 

"Ms. Wallen?" a woman asked from one of the shop doors. "Excuse me but are you Ms. Wallen?" 

Turning towards the woman, Eliza nodded and approached the store. "I'm Eliza Wallen with KGA but I'm confused why I'm here." 

"Mr. Westwright asked that I assist you in finding something for tonight." 

"Something for tonight?" 

"Something to wear, my dear. Come in and let's see what we can find." 

Desperately wanting to run back to the office and scream at the controlling bastard, Eliza chose to avoid being rude and followed the woman. Once inside she immediately regretted her decision. This place was like nowhere she had ever shopped before and she seriously doubted that she would again. Casually touching one gown, she grimaced when she saw the price. Her entire savings would hardly suffice as a down payment. 

"Uh," she hesitated, "Look, I'm sorry for the confusion. I really tried to explain to Mr. Westwright but he apparently did not understand. I'm in no position to purchase anything right now." 

"There's no need to explain," the woman replied as she moved around the store. "Everything has been arranged for you." 

"Look, Mrs., uh..." 

"Please call me Margaret." 

"Margaret, I am here for an assignment and not prepared for any social events." 

"We have everything that you need right here, my dear." 

"Look," she said, moving in front of the woman, "I can't afford this. I can't even afford to rent anything in here. I'm just a student and I refuse to be coerced into spending all of my money for a party that I really don't want to attend." 

"Oh," the woman whispered. "My apologies, Ms. Wallen." 

"No need. I'm sure poverty isn't something that walks through your door every day. I should return to work." 

"No. No, you can't. You see, I didn't explain very well. When I said that everything had been arranged for you, I meant that Mr. Westwright had taken care of the expense. He said that it was a sensitive topic and I should be considerate in explaining it to you. Apparently, I failed." 

"So, it's a write-off?" Eliza asked looking around the shop. "Since he owns everything, he gets to decide what goes to charity?" 

"Hardly," Margaret answered with a smile. "Oh, they own the building but the business is mine. There is no charity, not even an employee discount, only Mr. Westwright's credit card number waiting to be used. Now, let's find your dress." 

"This is unbelievable." 

"What's unbelievable is how well he described your body," Margaret replied with a grin. 

***

Several hours later Eliza decided to return to her room, exhausted and frustrated. The end of day two and she had yet to speak with anyone who had provided useful information. So far, shrugging shoulders and "I don't know" had been the common answer. With the exception of Michael, most of the staff had little knowledge of the item stolen, when it had actually disappeared and who would have wanted it. 

Michael would have the answers to all of those questions and he was the last person to have possession. But why would he steal it? Certainly he could sell the technology but isn't that what his company would do eventually? Was he trying to keep the profit for himself? Then why be so generous with bonuses? Would he betray his brothers so cruelly? Why destroy his family's business?

By the time she reached her room, her head was splitting. In school, questions could be answered by a night of research in the library. Here, she was relying on limited knowledge and no experience. She honestly couldn't remember the questions for which she was trying to find answers. 

Opening the door, she turned on the lights and stopped. Dress bag? Check. Shoe box? Check. So what were in the bags on the bed? Apparently, Margaret had taken some liberties with Michael's credit card. Swearing to send everything back in the morning, Eliza pick up the largest of the three bags and peeked inside. Might as well know what needed to be returned. 

She found an expensive set of lingerie along with a note explaining that "a dress is not complete without the necessary accessories." With a sigh, she grabbed the next bag which contained a jewel studded clutch and finally the last bag which held two black velvet jeweler's box. Sitting on the bed, she guessed what would be inside the box. Black onyx stones that matched those on the clutch? Maybe sterling silver hoops and a chain? Exactly what jewelry would be appropriate with a dress that cost more than a car?

For a moment Eliza wondered if this was how little children felt on Christmas morning. Trees and presents had been hindered by her mother's holiday parties where decorations were limited to mistletoe over the door and garland strung throughout the house. She shut away those memories as she opened the box. 

Diamond drop earrings sparkled against the black fabric. Two large princess-cut diamonds surrounded the chain's smaller round stones. With trembling fingers she lifted one from the box and watched brilliant lights reflect from her hand. Certainly Michael had no idea how much money had been charged to his credit card. Did he? Had he become so successful by being so careless?

If he had approved this purchase, what did he hope to gain? Certainly her responses to his advances had confirmed that she would give herself freely to him. So why would he buy gifts this extravagant? 

"No," she said aloud as the answers screamed inside her head. "It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense." She placed the earring back in the box and gently traced her fingers over the soft velvet. "Then I need to find the answers that make sense." 

She opened the second box and nearly fainted. The drop necklace had a similar design with small round stones set in platinum that would circle her neck. The jewelry that she would wear tonight was worth several thousand dollars. Add the dress and shoes and the price escalated to more than most annual household incomes. All for one night. 

Determined to find her answers, Eliza showered and started dressing. She had just finished drying her hair when she realized that she had absolutely no idea how to style it. Flipping her head up, she shrieked at the wild untamed mess that hung to her waist. She grabbed her brush and roughly pulled through her hair only to create more static and frizz. Defeated, she decided to retreat to the safety of her pins and leave styling to the professionals. 

Just as she finished her makeup, she heard the familiar knock at the door. He was early, wasn't he? Certainly she hadn't spent that much time primping. Grabbing her robe, she dashed to the door prepared to offer apologies. 

"I can explain," she started as she opened the door. 

"What? Why you always answer the door wearing that robe?" Michael interrupted. "Or why your hair is plastered against your skull?" 

"I just finished my makeup so I'll be dressed in a minute and I always wear my hair this way," she explained, turning away.

"Not tonight." 

Eliza gasped when she felt his fingers touch her scalp and gravity take control. She twisted around to scream at him and ran right into his chest. When she faltered against him he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. 

"Please don't" she whispered. "I don't have time to re-do my makeup. I already need to fix my hair." 

"No you don't," he said, moving his fingers through her hair. "I like it better this way." 

"I look like I took a shower with an electric toaster," she said stepping away from him. "Have a seat. If we're late it's your fault." Returning to the bathroom, she looked at the mirror to assess the damage. She was a little surprised to find her dark hair waving down to her waist in a decent style. Apparently a mixture of hairspray, bobby pins and Michael's fingers worked some kind of magic. 

"Leave it," he said, leaning against the door jamb. 

"Only because we'll be late if I try to fix it," she consented. "I'll get dressed. Turn around." 

"Why?" 

She watched him silently wait for her to take the bait. He had seen everything she had to offer so he could challenge her claim of modesty. Shrugging her shoulders, she brushed by him and moved to the closet. 

"It's your choice. But I have to warn you. I look pretty damn cute in this black thong you bought me." 

"You win," he said with a laugh and walked to the balcony doors. "It's strange but I'm glad that you didn't put up too much of a fight about tonight." 

"Let's be honest, Michael. I haven't put up too much of a fight with you period. So I decided to follow the course and maybe I'll find the answers I need to complete this assignment." 

"To what end?" 

"I need a job." 

"Don't we all," he mumbled. 

"What?" 

"Nothing. So you're planning to work the crowd tonight?" 

"Certainly. Every person of interest should be there so I'll just have a simple chat and decide what direction I should take tomorrow." 

"Persons of interest?" 

"Sure. You. Your brothers. Their wives. Deborah. And oh yeah, there's one I haven't met yet. Uh, Joseph Westwright. Who is he?" 

"An interesting choice," he answered quietly. "I can't wait to witness that interview." 

"Who says you'll witness it?" 

"I do. By law. Joe is my fourteen month old son." 

Silence stretched between them for the next several minutes. 

"Your son," she finally said. "The reason you had to..." 

"Leave you last night? Yeah. Am I mistaken or does the background info you've been given have some serious omissions?" 

"You're not mistaken. I've been asking myself the same question. Uh, Michael, you can turn around now."

She watched nervously as he turned and silently moved his gaze over her body. While she hadn't expected any sort of charismatic outburst, she had thought he would say something. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked, tracing her fingers over the black, clinging material. 

"No," he answered as he moved closer to her. "Almost perfect." 

"Almost?" she asked, looking away from his gaze. "What do I need to do to be perfect?" 

"Show me the thong." 

***

Hours later Eliza collapsed in her chair begging for a break from dancing and cursing herself for choosing stilettos. She had met almost every employee at Arliss-Randall and was fairly certain that she had danced with every man at least twice. Even with her toes screaming in pain, she had agreed to be led around the floor by men of every age, size and color. 

Apparently, the company spared no expense when celebrating with their employees. From the linen on the table to the selection of food, they had provided a night of luxury for them. And from what she had gathered, the Westwright brothers considered it a small token of their appreciation for the dedicated service they had received. The announcement of the bonuses had been a real treat as one man, who looked totally uncomfortable in his tuxedo, sobbed like a baby when he received his check. 

Eliza watched the large crowd intermingle as though everyone were best friends. And while they resided together on this large campus, they really appeared to be family. So what was wrong? Someone, who was probably in this room, had stolen from them. And if she understood the potential threat, it could cost the company any future celebrations. 

"Are you ok?" Michael asked as he sat next to her. 

"Yep. Why? Don't I look ok?

"Almost perfect," he replied with a wink. "Actually, your eyes appear a little too bright." 

"I think I've had too much to drink." 

"You've had one glass of wine." 

"And for a non-drinker, it's too much. My lips and nose are numb." 

"Just my luck." 

"What?" 

"Nothing. Hey, I see someone that I need to talk to. Stay here and I'll bring you some coffee." 

Eliza watched him disappear into the crowd, thankful that he had allowed her to remain seated. Wishing she could kick off her shoes, she settled for propping them in the vacant seat next to her. Hopefully, the tablecloth and the angle of her chair would hide her unfeminine display. 

"Eliza," Brooke said walking towards her table. "I see you made it. Having fun?" 

"Actually, I am. I might regret it in the morning but I'm having fun tonight." 

"Drink it up. It might be the last party for a while, especially if you don't find our thief. How's the investigation? Anything new?" 

"Not really," Eliza confessed. "Actually, I'm realizing that I may not have enough information to ask the right questions." 

"Ah, that sucks. So it's been a complete bust?" 

"Not really. There's still the usual suspects, but I'm confused on who some of the players really are. Maybe you can help me." 

"I'd be glad to," Brooked answered taking a seat at the table. "What do you need?" 

"This morning you were about to tell me why they needed this claim to be paid. I understand the value of the research but you said they needed it. Why?" 

"Basically with everything else that's happened, all of their remaining eggs were left in that one basket." 

"Everything that's happened?" Eliza asked, leaning closer to the woman. 

"The other accidents. The claims denied by your company." 

"The house fire?" 

"Destroyed Jonathan's home and a contract that the other party now denies signing."

"The car accident?" 

"Thomas' stupid little hobby but he and Kimberly barely escaped." 

"The death?" 

"Ah, the worst for us," Brooked explained with a shake of her head. "Especially now that her prototype has been stolen." 

"What do you mean?" 

"She invented the gizmo and apparently her notes were not complete enough to duplicate the damn thing." 

"I had assumed that Michael was the creator. She was the one who committed suicide?"

"That's what your people said but I heard that her body had injuries that couldn't be explained. Anyway, it was a real tragedy and not just because of her value to the company. Everybody loved her." 

"Who was she?" 

Brooke looked at her for a second before answering, "Michael didn't tell you? It was his wife."



Adjusting To Normal Ch. 03



Michael's wife was dead. Whether it was from murder or suicide her demise had been brutal. 

Whether it was the wine or shock Eliza could only guess. But she remained numb as Brooke continued talking about the suspicions that had surrounded the beloved Annie Westwright's death. Annie. Even her name was endearing.

Focusing on Brooke's monologue was becoming more difficult. She struggled to watch the woman's mouth move and catch portions of her sentences. Some said post-partum depression. No way. But then he had just brought that blond bitch here a few days earlier so jealousy was another word floating around. But anyone who knew sweet little Annie knew that she loved that baby and bless her heart even loved her husband. And there was absolutely no way she would jump out of a window.

"Very sad," Eliza repeated with a nod. God, what had she gotten into? His wife had invented the damn thing and then died without leaving the instructions. Now it was missing. And he was the last person to have it in his possession. She glanced across the room to find him standing with none other than Deborah. 

"The blond bitch?" Eliza interrupted. 

"The one he's talking to now," Brooked answered, nodding towards the couple across the room. "Something weird there. But this place is full of secrets. Did you know that they started recruiting from outside only ten years ago? Oh yeah, before the big three took over they didn't leave the farm for anything if you know what I mean." When Eliza continued to stare at her silently she explained with one word. "Inbreeding." 

After a few minutes Brooke had completed her tale and disappeared into the crowd. Eliza sat in silence trying to remember everything that she had just heard. It was mostly gossip of course but some truths could be gleaned from it. Struggling to decipher the new information she started feeling warm and claustrophobic in the crowded room. 

Glancing through the crowd she found Deborah speaking with another man but Michael was nowhere in sight. She moved from her seat to the door hoping to find the nearest exit. With several people blocking her path to the elevator Eliza found the stairwell and started her descent. The banquet hall was located on the fifth floor and even though her feet were killing her she moved as fast as possible. 

She had almost reached the second floor before she noticed something different. As the fog in her brain lifted she realized that the lower floors were darker. The lights were out. Before she could stop she saw a shadow move in the corner. Fear gripped her throat and held her scream as the dark form stepped towards her. Sensing the threat she rushed past the shadow hoping to escape his grasp as she continued down the next flight of stairs. 

Before Eliza could reach the bottom floor she felt the hand push against her back. Losing her balance Eliza covered her face with her arms hoping to lessen the impact. The cold concrete was unforgiving as it slammed against her elbow and hip. She carefully moved her arm and leg which were throbbing in pain but not seriously injured. 

She opened her eyes struggling to focus on her surroundings. The exit light above the door illuminated the darkened stairwell with an eerie red glow. The sound of footsteps moving closer forced her to move. Crawling on her hands and knees she cried out when hands roughly grabbed her hair. Standing behind her the dark form pulled until her head was off the ground. 

Eliza struggled against the surprise attack by alternating blows to her captor and trying to pull her hand from the menacing grasp. Why couldn't she breathe? When she thought she would finally be released a dark shadow moved in front of her face. She saw red stars on the dark hand before it grabbed her throat and squeezed. 

Eliza clawed at her captor realizing that it was leather and not skin that she was scratching. Struggling again to breathe she fought against her assailant until she could no longer move. When she was finally released she collapsed on the floor gasping for air. 

She heard someone say her name from a distance far away and then a face floated in and out of the darkness before bright florescent lights flickered and blinded her. And then he was there with others hovering over her sore body. She blinked as she watched his mouth move and heard his voice but was unable to understand his words. 

Then other voices started screaming in the stairwell. Someone was saying the light had been turned off. Another said she must have tripped in her dress. And finally someone said that she had been drinking. 

"Shut up!" Michael yelled looking over his shoulder. "Eliza," he whispered turning to her, "can you move?" 

"I think so but my knee hurts." 

"Then don't move," he instructed. "EMS will be here soon. Someone said they saw you run out of the room. What happened?" 

"I needed air. The elevator was blocked." 

"Ok. Just stay awake until we can get you to the infirmary." 

"No," she argued pushing his hands away. "Let me up. I'm ok." 

"Then let me help you," Michael said wrapping his arms around her waist. "Deb, send everyone away and have someone bring my car to the front." 

"No," Eliza whispered against his neck. "I need to go to my room." 

"Eliza." 

"Please Michael." 

"Ok. Deb, make sure the path is clear to the elevator. What's wrong Eliza?" 

"My necklace," she answered as she searched her neck and the bodice of her gown. "I've lost my necklace." 

When she pulled away and knelt on the floor everyone watched in confusion. Michael finally knelt and pulled her hands into his. Feeling her panic rise Eliza jerked away and continued patting on the floor. 

"It's here. It has to be here. Oh god, please don't let him have it." 

"Who?" 

"The man who pushed me." 

"What man?" Michael demanded. "Eliza, damn it, quit crawling around. What man?" 

"Here it is," Deborah said bending in the corner of the stairwell. She held up the string of diamonds and glared at Michael. "A drunk girl with a vivid imagination and a very expensive necklace. No man. Jesus Michael. What the hell?" 

"He was here," Eliza whispered. "Michael I swear it. He was here." 

"There was no one here," Deborah snapped. "We have enough drama so drop the act. I can't believe this is the best KGA can offer." She tossed the necklace to Michael and started to walk away. "She must not have snapped the clasp properly." 

"It's broken" he murmured. "How does a platinum clasp break?" 

Eliza watched silently as the two turned towards her. The onlookers had been cleared from the stairwell leaving the three of them alone. Trying to stand she quickly grabbed Michael's arm as her knees protested against her weight. When he moved beneath the bare florescent lights she stared as he lifted his hands to her throat. The expression on his face scared her. 

Turning to Deborah he said, "And this?" 

Touching her throat Eliza grimaced at the sting against her skin and quickly pulled her fingers away. A glance confirmed what she already knew. The pressure of the necklace against her throat had cut her skin. 

"I'm taking you to the infirmary," Michael insisted. "You need to see a doctor now." 

"Wait," she mumbled against his shoulder. "Please take me to my room. I need to get dressed and get something." 

"Eliza..." 

"Please." 

Without a word Michael slipped the necklace into his pocket and lifted her into his arms. As she was carried through the foyer and into the elevator Eliza appreciated the silence that accompanied them. With only the sound of Michael's heartbeat she tried to remember the events that had led to this moment. No matter what Deborah said someone had been in the stairwell and had pushed her down the stairs. She was now bleeding from the injury on her neck which probably happened when her necklace was pulled along with her hair. 

She glanced at his face and cringed when she saw the anger had returned. His jaw was clinched tight and lines surrounded his mouth. When the chime announced their arrival to the floor of her apartment he continued moving quietly across the carpeted floor. 

"Where's your keycard?" 

"Oh god. I left my clutch on the table. Michael I'm sorry I..." 

"No problem," he interrupted, gently placing her on her feet. Eliza watched silently as he reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a slender metal case. He pulled out a black plastic card, swiped it through the electronic scanner and returned it to his jacket. Before he could reach for Eliza she had opened the door and entered the apartment. 

"Michael I think I'll be ok. So if it's ok with you I'll just stay here and you can go back to the party." When he remained silent she turned to find him staring at her. "Ok?" 

"No," he answered, walking in and shutting the door. "What happened down there Eliza?" 

"I really don't know. I got too warm and needed some air. The elevators were blocked so I took the stairs. Then, uh, everything happened so fast." 

"Are you telling me everything?" 

Eliza turned away shaking her head. In twenty four hours she had experienced more with this man than she had with anyone else. Could she continue allowing a few minutes of passion to obscure her judgment? She wanted to leap into his arms and tell him about the bad man that hurt her and... trust him. But something stopped her. 

"Are you telling me everything?" she asked repeating his question. "Don't you think there are some things that I need to know in order to complete this assessment?" 

"I could lie to you." 

"Why?" 

"To protect myself." 

"Why?" 

"Are you asking why I would want to protect myself?" 

"No. I'm asking why you would need to." 

"Eliza," he said, stepping closer, "you were sent here to find some answers. Obviously you already have theories." 

"No," she whispered as he lifted his hand to her cheek. 

"Questions?" 

Biting her lip Eliza shook her head hoping she could hold the tears in her eyes. As he leaned forward she looked away struggling to find an escape from this conversation.

"Don't play into their hands Eliza," he whispered against her cheek. "They think they can control you because you lack experience. But they don't know you." 

"And you do?" 

"You're a fighter. You don't settle for a mediocre life that's accepted by others around you. Fight for the truth." 

"I'm confused," she confessed, moving out of his arms. "With everything that happened last night I just can't think clearly." 

"Do you think I came here last night to seduce you?" 

"You were obviously prepared."

"Once a boy scout...never mind. Actually I was pissed when I came here last night but...Eliza, there's no easy way to dance around what happened." 

"What do you want from me?" 

"Tempting question but the short answer is that I need you to find the truth." 

"You don't know what it is?" 

"I do or I think I do but you were chosen to find it and I find myself in the humble position of needing you to prove it." 

"Are you trying to sway my vote?" 

"How?" 

"The dress. The jewelry." 

"Oh," he replied with a frown. She watched him walk to the balcony doors where he stared silently. "To tell the truth I didn't consider the consequences. It certainly wasn't a payment for services rendered nor was it a bribe. Can we just say that I felt generous and I really wanted you to enjoy the party?"

"Really?" 

"Really," he answered turning to face her. "And I will confess that I didn't realize how easily I fell into the old man's ways until now." 

"Who?" 

"I'll explain later. Do me a favor and pack all of your things." 

"You're evicting me?" 

"No," he answered with a grin as he moved closer to her. "I'm kidnapping you or placing you in protective custody, whichever you prefer. After tonight I'm keeping an eye on you and, once again, I can't stay here." 

"You're taking me to your home?" she asked. "Why?" 

"Because while you've chosen to not tell me what happened in the stairwell," he answered, moving her hair over her shoulder, "these bruises on your neck give some details. Whoever attacked you may try again. Please pack your things." 

Eliza walked to the closet surprised how well she was able to move after her fall. She also wondered why she was agreeing to his request without an argument. Carrying her suitcase and clothes to the bed she started packing as quickly and neatly as possible. 

She shyly smiled at Michael now sitting at the table as she walked to the bathroom to collect her toiletries. Glancing at the mirror she finally saw the evidence of her attack. The cut on her neck was small and healing but the bruises were vivid on her pale skin. When she returned to the main room she stopped when she saw him reading her client file from KGA. 

"What is this?" he asked without looking at her. 

"My assignment. I suppose it's ok for you to read it. Although I was told that it was confidential I haven't found anything that would be offensive." 

"This," he asked holding the file towards her, "is all you were given?" 

"Yeah. Why?" 

"No electronic files or cloud access to a database?" 

"No," she answered, moving to her suitcase. "Why?" 

"It's not much data," he answered as he flipped through the file again. "So where are your persons of interest listed?" 

"Well they're not. I mean the list was something I created. Obviously KGA would have known that Joseph wasn't a viable contact," she added with a laugh.

"Who did KGA direct you to interview?" 

"All four hundred employees I guess but I couldn't imagine that being very profitable. So I narrowed it down to seven and have yet to question one." 

"Tomorrow you can interrogate me," he said, standing to hand her the file and take her luggage. 

"And tonight?" she asked as she packed the file in her work bag. "What will we do tonight?" 

Michael paused at the door before turning to answer, "I said that the dress is not a payment for last night but I never said that I would refuse a night as payment for the dress." 

Remaining still Eliza struggled to find words but realized that she had no idea what she wanted to say. The fact that he was teasing her was evident by his grin. The fact that he was also serious was revealed in his eyes. He was allowing her to make a choice knowing which answer he wanted and fairly sure that she wanted the same. 

And yet she remained motionless. Last night had been declared as a mistake by two people whose desires trumped their control. To repeat that mistake would be a willful decision that could not be excused. 

"I promise to try to make it the best time you've ever had," he finally said. "But I can't give you any more. Not right now." 

"It's just that I don't normally..." 

"Well I normally do. We should compare our norms sometime and find a place in the middle. No matter what you choose you're coming with me tonight." 

Grabbing her bag Eliza walked to the door but stopped when Michael turned to open it. He had offered no false hopes. Tuesday morning she would get on a plane and return home. How she spent the next four nights would be her decision. 

"I'll go with you," she explained as she touched his arm. "Not because I need a bodyguard but because I want to be with you." 

When she thought he would nod and open the door he surprised her by dropping her luggage and pulling her close. A single glance, no words and finally a kiss sealed their deal. She knew what she had agreed to and she would accept the consequences. 

"Eliza," he said in a tone that sounded odd. "Did you pack your schedule?" 

"Are you serious?" she snapped. "What is it with you and that damn schedule? I've hardly followed it so it can't be that important." 

Leaning close he whispered, "It will be. Please keep it with you at all times." 

As they left her room they walked together in easy companionship. General conversation, a question about her injuries and a joke about checking her ID at the next party had Eliza talking and laughing while they waited for the elevator. She was telling him that she was feeling much better when she noticed that he glanced away from her. 

Eliza watched him as he motioned for her to keep talking. She started talking about family members that were notorious drunks and how holiday parties had started with beer and ended with gospel songs. As he quietly moved away from the elevator she continued telling a story that she had never shared with anyone. 

She quit talking when he pushed the stairwell door open. Even from a distance she could hear the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. She watched as Michael let the door swing closed. 

"How did you know they were there?" she asked as he walked to her. "Who do you think it was? What were they doing? And why did they run away?" 

Michael lifted the suitcase and pushed the down arrow on the panel. He finally asked, "How many uncles do you have?" When Eliza shook her head in confusion he explained, "Your story. You talked about seven different uncles." 

"Oh. Well, uh, well they aren't really my uncles. My mother was very popular with men and when she didn't marry a guy she'd tell me he was my new uncle." 

"And they were all at this same party?" 

"Not all of them. Only the seven," she answered quietly as she stepped into the elevator. "While I'm sure your mother would never be so immoral please don't say anything about mine." She glanced at his expression and cringed. "I already know what you're thinking. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." 

His response was an outburst of laughter. When he could finally speak he said, "Eliza you couldn't be farther from the truth. First of all, it's very possible that you were adopted. And second," he said wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "If my mother were still alive she would give your mom some decent competition." 

Eliza returned his smile but was totally confused. She had always believed that families like his were founding members of churches, private schools and charities. As a child she had been excluded from invitations to her classmates' parties. Only one girl had been brave enough to tell her that whore's kids were not allowed. 

"So you're mom had an affair?" 

"Most definitely," he answered with a chuckle. "But I'm ok with it. If she hadn't screwed around on her husband I wouldn't have been born." 

"But your father is...wait, what?" 

"Tomorrow," he said as they exited the elevator and walked through the lobby. "We can discuss it tomorrow." 

"I thought we were working tomorrow," she asked, following him to a black car parked at the curb. She waited while he packed her bag and suitcase in the trunk. "Remember? You said I can interrogate you tomorrow." 

"I remember," he answered, opening the passenger's door and waiting until she was seated. "But my parentage and that of my brothers and some others will eventually become part of your investigation." 

When the door was shut Eliza stared at her faint reflection against the dark window. The diamond earrings sparkled in the dark mirror reminding her of the necklace that had been damaged. Touching her throat reminded her of the attack from only a few minutes earlier. Then someone had been watching them from the stairwell. Now Michael informs her that his family was a significant piece of her assignment. 

Eliza turned to watch him slide into the driver's seat and start the engine. She had no idea what the model of the car was but she had enough sense to know that sleek design and low roar symbolized something expensive. When he shifted gears Eliza glanced out the window to see everything rapidly disappearing from view as they left the main facility. Alone. 

Michael reached across the console and briefly touched the bare skin of her arm. She regretted her surprised reaction but felt relieved when she noticed his smile. Tentatively she lifted her hand and gently laid it over his resting on the gear shift. 




Adjusting To Normal Ch. 03



"You ok?" he asked, intertwining his fingers with hers. 

"Yeah I guess I'm just..." What? Tired? Nervous? Sure but did she want to tell him that? "It's been an eventful day. Where are we going?" she asked as they passed the stores. When they approached the gated entrance Michael turned right and continued driving on a street parallel with the property's wrought iron fence. 

"Wishing you had some bread crumbs?" he asked as he saw her looking out the window. "Eliza we're just going to the residential side of the property. Some of the staff has apartments in the main building but most of them are first responders. Others live in the apartments or condos nearby so they can walk to work." 

"And you? You obviously don't live in the main building or walk to work." 

"I have a cottage on the beach." 

"A cottage? Sounds a little understated." 

"It is understated but it's quiet so I can work without interruption and Joe can play without interrupting anyone else." 

"That's right," she murmured. "I forgot he'll be there." 

"Of course he will." 

"You have a nanny." 

"I have someone who stays with him when I'm not home," he corrected. "Relax." 

"Relax. Right," she repeated, twisting in her seat to face him. "Michael, are you sure about this? I mean do you think it's a good idea for me to go home with you where you son will see me? My mom would bring guys home and she'd think I was asleep but I knew. I heard everything they said and everything they did..." 

"I know. It's never happened before but I promise that protecting you is only second to protecting my son." 

Eliza nodded but remained silent. He had refused to offer anything after Tuesday but until then he would take care of her and maybe she would have more than just a few good memories to take home with her. 

When the car turned into a residential area she watched, waiting for him to stop at one of the homes. As they continued to move through the streets Eliza noticed that the farther they moved from the office the more luxurious the homes became. Finally they progressed into an area with larger yards and much larger homes. She was certain that Michael, as a co-chairman of the company, lived here. But he continued driving. 

"Jonathan lives there," Michael explained, pointing to one grand home. "And Thomas lives across the street. Right here," he added when they passed a large stone house. 

"Why don't you live here?" 

"I used to. Thomas now lives in my old house." 

"And you have a home at the beach?" 

"I have a cottage. And it's a very basic house that suits our needs. Does that disappoint you?" 

"Ha!" she answered with a sarcastic laugh. "When I was a kid I envied anyone with a doublewide. We actually didn't mind the floods too much because FEMA would trade out one piece of trash for a new one." 

"Was everyone as unhappy as you?" 

"Oh no. They wouldn't trade their white trash hedonistic life for anything. My mom included." 

"She told you that?" he asked, looking at her. "Did she actually tell you that she wouldn't choose another life? Seriously Eliza how old was she when you were born?" 

"Sixteen." 

"Jesus. So she's what, thirty eight? She's only seven years older than me. Could you imagine being a kid and having a kid? I have unlimited resources at my disposal and still think I'm losing my mind with Joseph." 

"So now you're defending my mother? She didn't have to keep me."

"Did she tell you that she ran away?" he asked and waited for Eliza's nod. "Did you ever think that maybe she really didn't have a choice? And you're right. She didn't have to keep you but then she would have been alone." 

"Why wouldn't she tell me that? Too proud?" 

Michael remained silent for so long that Eliza decided he would avoid answering her question. When he slowed the car and turned onto an unlit driveway he said, "Sometimes the truth is not a matter of pride. It's a source of pain. And while it's impossible to hide forever it's still not easy to share." He opened his door allowing the dome light to illuminate the small space. He paused and added, "Even with the people you love." 

Eliza watched as he stepped out and walked to her side of the car. She accepted his assistance as she climbed from the car and walked through the dark yard. Slowly walking up the stairs, she jumped when the porch light suddenly came on and the front door opened. Blinking from the bright light, she saw a smiling woman step out of the house. 

"Good evening," the soft voice greeted them. "I heard you had a scare tonight. Are you hurt?" 

"Uh, no," Eliza responded. "I guess I was more stunned than injured." 

"Well that's good. It would have been a tragic way to end a wonderful night. Ok, Michael, my baby boy is asleep. He's been fed, bathed and played until he dropped." 

"And just a little more spoiled," Michael added escorting Eliza into the house. "Of course that is a grandmother's prerogative." 

"Grand...grandmother?" Eliza stammered. 

"I'm Joyce," the smiling woman said as she offered her hand. "Relax, Eliza. You'll be safe here." 

In a daze, Eliza shook the woman's hand. Too stunned to be embarrassed, she murmured, "It's a pleasure to meet you." Why was this woman smiling? Did she know why Eliza was here with her dead daughter's husband?

When Joyce asked Michael to get her sweater from the living room, she turned to Eliza and nearly whispered, "When I was young I never participated in the Westwright games but I'm not completely ignorant of what's happening here. You should know that I care for Michael as if he were my son but you need to be careful. Have your fun. Then leave." As the sound of Michael's footstep drew near, she added, "I had hoped everything would be different." 

"Here you go Joyce," Michael said as he walked in. "Is that everything? Then I'll walk you to your car. Eliza, I'll be right back. Make yourself at home." 

Eliza was in a daze not realizing that she moved until she stood in front of the balcony doors. The darkness outside created the backdrop against her reflection. She recognized the face but questioned if she really knew the person. 

After the attack and Joyce's warning, Eliza eagerly waited for Michael. She had considered evaluating the changes in her behavior once she returned to school but quickly dismissed the idea. When she returned, she would return to the old Eliza. Glancing in the reflection of the glass, she found his dark silhouette standing in the doorway, watching her. 

"Hey," she said as she turned to face him. 

"Hey." 

"Your mother seems to be a nice lady." 

"She is. She's been a mother to us since we were kids," he answered as he walked into the room. "But that's not what we need to discuss." 

"I didn't think we came here to discuss anything." She slowly moved closer to him, stopping when he placed his hand on her waist. 

"Eliza, I owe you an apology." 

"For what?" 

"Last night." 

"No you don't," she offered and quickly added, "Ok, apology accepted. Can we move on?" She tried to step forward but his arm was locked, keeping a distance between them.

"I told you this morning that we needed to talk. I made an assumption about you that was wrong and I acted on it." 

"In your defense I gave you every reason to reach that conclusion." 

"No. I knew the truth but wanted something else." Pulling her close, he kissed her cheek and added, "But I like that you defend me." 

"It's a saying. I'm sure you can defend yourself." 

"Honestly? That's not the truth. I'm counting on you to defend me." 

"How?" 

"Find the truth," he answered simply. "During the next three days, find the truth." 

"I, uh, I thought when you brought me here that I was finished working." 

Michael slipped his arm around her waist placing his hand at the small of her back. With a laugh he said, "We'll find a few hours to get some work done." 

"If I'm going back to the office, why did I pack my suitcase?" 

"Because you're not going back. Everything is here." 

"Oh." 

"For tomorrow." 

"Ah. And tonight?" 

"Ladies' choice." 

Eliza bit her lip and dropped her gaze before confessing, "What if the lady can't read the menu?" 

"Then it would be my pleasure to make some recommendations." 

"Actually, I'd like to start with a shower," she admitted. "I think I danced with almost every man employed at Arliss-Randall." 

"You certainly did," he agreed as he led her into the bedroom. "And some received twice the attention." 

Eliza followed him, impressed with the understated luxury of his home. It was nice, no doubt better than anything she would ever possess, but it was hardly the home indicative of his wealth. She paused at the door to the bath. 

"I think my suitcase is still in your car." 

"We'll get it tomorrow," he answered, motioning to a closet in the bedroom. "Hopefully you'll like something in there."

She walked across the room, opened the door and waited. Inside the cedar paneled room she discovered two sets of clothing. One, obviously Michael's wardrobe, had been forced to the side to make room for the second. 

Gently touching the sleeve of the black, silk robe, Eliza asked, "Are these...were these your, uh, did these belong to Annie?" 

She heard Michael chuckle as he moved behind her. Seeing his hand reach around, she gasped when he lifted a tag still attached to the garment. 

"They're yours. I was a bit impulsive, and hopeful, this morning so I instructed Margaret to send some things here." He dropped the tag and turned her to face him adding, "Annie never lived here. As a matter of fact, I've never brought a woman here. Well, before tonight." 

"That's a lot of clothes for one night." 

"Well, through Tuesday morning," he explained. Eliza watched as his expression changed and tiny stress lines suddenly appeared around his eyes. "I can't promise more." 

"Neither can I," she offered. "Obviously I can't match your offer but I do need to return home. And back to my normal life. So, until then..." 

"Until then," he agreed with a nod. Placing a quick kiss to her lips he pulled away and said, "Ok, the dress is great, you are gorgeous, how do I get you out of this thing?" 

"The zipper is on the side," she explained, playfully batting away his hands. "And I will do it." 

As Eliza slowly unzipped her dress and looked up to find him staring at her. Just when she started to regret boasting about the cute thong, she felt his fingers trace gently up her arm.

"Don't stop." 

Nodding slowly she continued until the garment hung loosely from her shoulders. She remained quiet as she watched him move closer and reach for the straps that would expose her body to his gaze. When his warm fingers touched her skin, she inhaled quickly. Once again, she was submitting herself to the consuming passion that had claimed her last night. 

Their day, full of kisses and sexual innuendos, would conclude as it had last night except they would stay together. And wake up together. Before her panic could surface, Michael bent forward and kissed her neck. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as he continued kissing and moving his hands over her body until the dress fell in folds to the floor. When she heard his muttered curse, she opened her eyes to find him staring her body. 

"You were right," he said quietly. "But here's the dilemma. As great as you look, there's no way I would let anyone else see you like this. But when we're alone...well, they're in my way." 

Eliza felt drugged as she watched him trace the lace band of her thong. His fingers moved over her abdomen, circling her navel, and finally cupping her breasts still hidden beneath the lace bra. She felt the moment he unhooked the confining garment as her breasts were quickly freed and then captured again by the warmth of his hands. 

Unlike last night, she was not offered the privacy of looking away from him. She felt the heat of his gaze on her skin and knew that he could see her blush spreading across her body. Wearing only a tiny scrap of lace and stilettos, she closed her eyes searching for her former confidence. 

"Look at me," he whispered against her ear. 

She slowly lifted her gaze as she felt him pull away, removing his jacket and tie. When he pulled her into his arms her body reacted to the heat escaping beneath his shirt. The kiss started slowly and gradually grew until he was all she could feel and taste. 

When he finally broke the kiss Eliza gasped for air as he moved down her body. She held onto his shoulders as he reached for her final garment. He moved the cloth quickly over her hips and thighs. She moaned when his warm breath and soft lips grazed her hip. He kissed a trail down her body until he reached her knees. 

Following his direction, she lifted her feet until the small black cloth was tossed across the room. He stood again and held her gaze with his own for a few seconds. She felt strong and confident as his gaze began to roam over her body. 

"Shower," he said with some difficulty. 

She could only nod and accepted his offered hand as he led them into the smaller room. Moving his hand to the wall, he found the switch that dimmed the lights to a dull setting. 

"Better?" he asked with a smile. 

"Yes," she whispered. "Thank you." 

She continued holding his hand as he turned on the water, grateful that he was granting her the contact she needed. When he asked if she was ready, Eliza hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He moved her hand under the warm water and waited for her nod before leading her under the spray of the shower. 

Eliza moaned as the warm water massaged her head, back and legs. The size of Michael's home might have been understated for his income level but the conveniences were luxury on any level. As she leaned into the muscle relaxing spray, she felt his fingers move over her scalp and realized that he was washing her hair. 

Taking a deep breath, she was happy to find a clean generic scent and not a strong masculine musk for shampoo. With her eyes closed she followed his silent directions, turning and leaning into the water. She remained under the cascade as he quickly washed his own hair and reached for the body wash. 

He spread the soap across her back with his hands in small circular motions. When he turned her to face him he paused, waiting for her to adjust. She smiled at his consideration and reached for the soap dispenser attached to the stone wall. Pumping a small portion into her hand she lathered the soap until foamy and placed her hands on his chest. 

At his nod she lathered his chest and shoulders, moving slowly along his rib cage before moving lower. Eliza knew that he could sense her hesitation and was thankful when he resumed washing her. With no words spoken, each moved at the other's silent direction. When Eliza traced her fingers down his abdomen she wondered how his touch could give her so much courage. 

Gently sliding the back of her fingers over the length of his hardening flesh, she wished he would guide her through the next move. Disappointing him or inflicting injury was not her desire and yet very probable. She grinned when he turned her hand and guided her fingers around his flesh. 

With the assistance of the soap, she slid her hand slowly down and then back up. Michael tightened his grip around her hand and quickened her pace. Just when she felt comfortable touching him, he stopped her movements and held her still. 

"Uh," he said with a laugh, "stop." 

"What did I do?" 

"Nothing. Give me a minute," he explained as he removed her hand from his body. With a gentle touch he turned her around and pulled her back against him. Resuming his earlier ministrations, Michael began slowing washing the front of her body. Confused and slightly hurt Eliza remained still as he moved his hands over her arms. 

When he moved up her shoulders she felt her heartbeat increase with anticipation. He continued to spread the lather, pausing at her breasts. His touch was gentle but ignited a fire in her belly. As he drew tiny circles on her skin Eliza felt her breaths increase to match the tempo of her heart. 

She leaned against his body for support, moaning as he continued teasing one breast and moved a hand between her legs. The simple contact of his hand against her body escalated the building wave of desire. When his finger brushed against the sensitive flesh of her clit Eliza surrendered to the strange rush that had claimed her the previous night. Pushing her hips back, she realized that her petite height was a disadvantage in this position. So she bent forward placing her hands against the smooth stone wall and tilted her hips towards him. 

It was at this point last night she had crudely begged him to take her. Here she was, less than twenty-four hours later needing it again. No, she told herself. Last night she needed it. Right now she needed him. Looking over her shoulder she found him standing there waiting for her next move. 

"Michael," she whispered. "Please." 

He moved forward pressing her against the stone wall and pressed his lips hard against hers. When he broke away he simply said, "Not here. Not this time." 

Consumed with anticipation Eliza allowed him to quickly rinse and dry their bodies. She followed him to the bedroom practically dazed with passion. When they reached the bed she smiled. 

"What?" he asked in confusion. 

"I hope we'll actually be in bed this time." 

"We were in a bed last night." 

"Your feet were on the floor," she explained with a laugh. "Just sayin." Her giggles turned to shrieks when she felt his arm move around her waist and lift her from the floor. Suddenly airborne, Eliza's shrieks grew louder until she landed in the center of his bed. 

"Just to confirm that no feet will be near the floor," Michael explained with feigned innocence as he crawled across the bed. "Happy now?" 

"Yes, very much," she said trying to pull him closer. When he locked his arms resisting her advance she realized that something had caught his attention. Following his gaze, she saw the small black box with blinking red lights resting on the night stand.  

The sound of a slight movement lit another red light followed by another after the sound of a whimper. Then a row of red lights stayed on as the sounds of a child's cries echoed from the small speaker. Michael leaped from the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans. 

"Give me a minute," he explained. "He should go back to sleep." He leaned over the bed, kissed her lips and left the room. 

Alone in the bed, Eliza tugged the comforter away from it and slid beneath the warm blanket. Realizing that her shrieks had wakened the poor child, she cringed and groaned aloud. She listened to Joseph's sobs until another voice entered the room. 

"Hey little man," Michael whispered. "Was Daddy and his friend just a little too loud? Come here. Want some music?" 

Eliza turned toward the sound of Michael's voice and smiled at the questions that would receive no answers. When the music started playing, she was surprised to hear popular ballads instead of electronic tones from a wind-up toy. The sound of his voice singing lyrics with the band made her reach for the small speaker and hold it close to her ear. 

Settling deeper in the pillows she pulled the blanket over her shoulders. She closed her eyes imagining him in a dark room holding his small son in his arms. She could almost see him moving around the room as he rocked the child to sleep. 

Unfortunately she did not see him ten minutes later when he stood over her sleeping body cradling his son's monitor in her hands.