New Kingdom: European Court Ch. 01

"I don't understand. The abuse happened in their former storage."

"I cannot allow these records to be thrown around the corridors as I just witnessed!" he yelled instantly regretting his harsh tone.

"If you had witnessed anything, then you saw that I did not throw them!" she returned wondering why she suddenly felt so defensive.

"Wait," he said closing his eyes. After a moment, he looked at her and, smiling, said, "Wrong choice of words. I was coming to your office to thank you for the quality of work you have prepared in such a short time. The information is very valuable to my brothers .... We are in business together. Well," he stammered felling foolish, "my brother in America owns the company that operates the children's hospital but he would like to know the extent of the fraud involved."

At the mention of the hospital, Emma instantly regained her composure and sat back in her chair. Looking at the stacks of reports, bank statements and various insurance remittances, she nodded at Antony in agreement.

"It's amazing how well this fraud was planned," she offered. "Hopefully I'm not boring you with details in my report but after reading the initial investigation, I moved on to the financial statements and more recent documentation provided by the director of the hospital's finance department. Now, using what we know, I've mapped the outflow of funds to their first location but, as I'm sure you know, the first location is just another front. To uncover the entire façade, I need to follow every dollar to the intended recipient, but first..."

"Lunch."

"Lunch?" Emma repeated sounding hopeful.

"You said that you were going to lunch," Antony explained. "You can finish explaining when you return or whenever I have time to meet with you."

"Oh, of course," she said quickly turning her back to him to hide her embarrassment.

"Also, when you return, George will meet you with new instructions," he added then hastily exiting the room.

Standing on the other side of the door, Antony leaned his forehead against the cool wood frame listening to the erratic thoughts and quickened breath of the American girl. He had unintentionally given her the idea that he was inviting her to join him for lunch. Moving down the hall, he pulled at the tie knotted at his neck in frustration.

"God, if only she understood," he said quietly. "She would lose her appetite if she knew what I craved right now."

As he continued down the hail, he contemplated the suggestion made by his sister-in-law, Alena. "Changing the little American is more appealing every day."

Returning to the safety of his office, he sat at his desk fighting the temptation to move to the atrium window. He knew the force pulling him was from the person who would not appreciate being watched right now. Every day this week, he had received a small amount of pleasure watching her walk into his building and looking up at him with innocent eyes. For some reason, he wanted to comfort her and let her know that he was guarding her.

As Emma left the building, she felt little victory in managing to avoid looking up to see if the god-man cared enough to watch her leave. Fighting tears of humiliation, she moved quickly through the crowd of pedestrians searching her mind for a courage strengthening mantra to chant.

"Fucking idiot," she said aloud. "Yeah, that one fits. I'm a fucking idiot. And now I'm talking to myself in front of hundreds of people." Cutting her gaze to the crowd as she walked down the sidewalk she said, "And why do I care? I'm invisible to everyone in this world!"

Several stories above her head, a dark hair man dropped his forehead to the glass of the widow. As he crossed his arms over his chest, he questioned the invisible bands gripping his body causing so much pain in his heart.

A few stories below Emma's feet, a small man scurried through the dark tunnels appearing as a rat in his diminutive appearance and rushed motions. Looking over his shoulder several times, he continued on his journey only when he was sure no one had followed him. When he approached a large metal door, he struggled against the rusted latch until he could finally open the portal.

Stepping over the threshold, he was reminded that nothing was as it appeared to be. The tunnels, abandoned centuries ago, were the only paths leading to the lost temples. The temples, once bright and majestic, had fallen to ruin by the arrogance of humans and then demolished by the self righteous men of the Third Creation.

But now, thanks to the generosity of the master, the temples once again glowed white as the iridescent stone reflected the light from the torches lining the walls. The brilliant hues of jewel tones reflected from the mosaics, murals, and stain glass that had once been destroyed but miraculously restored by the master. The restoration included all five levels of the temples with every detail returned to its former glory, except for the statues. No religious statues were permitted in the temples.

Shuddering at the thought of how much those carvings had been worth, the man remembered for the millionth time that the master knew best. But still, why not sell them and finance their mission? He had heard rumors that the bon fires incinerating the icons had burned hot for years feasting on the flesh of the religious symbols. Some say that the fires still burned today.

Entering the grand chamber, he dropped to his knees pressing his face to the ground. Waiting to be acknowledged, he took shallow breaths because his nose was flat against the floor. Never daring to look up, he waited and wondered if his master had a cruel sense of humor leaving him prostrate for an unnecessary long amount of time.

"My faithful servant," a deep resonating voice finally acknowledged. "What news have you brought to me?"

"My lord," he said remaining in his bow, "I bring news of the New Kingdom's king in Europe and the vampires and humans who help."

"Speak."

"The European king has employed a woman, an American human, to audit the financial activities funding our mission."

"And this causes concern for you?" the voice asked with a chuckle.

"My master, she has accomplished quite a bit within one week. The king has ordered her to be moved into his protection ... for her safety."

"And what of this weakling you call king? And his friends, what are they doing now?"

"He has requested reinforcements," the man said looking at his master. "They arrive today."

"Rise, little one," the voice commanded. "Tell me what this girl has discovered. But first," the large beast said standing from his throne, "explain to me why you have waited a week to bring me this news."

On the street level with civilization, Emma sat outside at bistro table, sulking. Everything had been a reminder of her humiliation. How could she think Antony Melchiorre was inviting her to lunch? One look at the man would tell any half wit that his women, even simple lunch companions, would have to complement him in looks, grace and manner. She fell short on all three.

Every woman who passed her table appeared to have leaped off the cover of a fashion magazine. Standing at almost six feet tall and maybe one hundred pounds, each could be considered feminine perfection with only coloring distinguishing them apart. Suddenly feeling masochistic, Emma turned to study her reflection in the bistro's window and compare herself to the women passing her table.

Watching her image fade while others' seemed intensified, she looked up to see if an umbrella was blocking the sun from illuminating her image. Her vision was unobstructed as she gazed at the cloudless, blue sky. Studying her vision again, she was interrupted by the reflection of a waiter walking her direction carrying a tray of drinks while looking over his shoulder. Emma managed to jump from her seat barely a second before the waiter walked into her table, losing his balance, and dropping the tray of drinks into the chair she had just vacated.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed. After a few moments of chaos, Emma was able to interpret the waiter's Italian demands to explain where she had been standing.

"I was sitting here," she said too loudly pointing at the chair covered in coffee, whipped cream and a dark red liquid. When the waiter shook his head, she added, "I've been waiting to place my order."

As he continued to shake his head, Emma resigned herself to return to the office and try to salvage the miserable day by working. Walking away from the outdoor scene, she stopped to look back and noted that not one person was watching her departure. As she continued back to work, she would look at her reflection in the widows as she passed the various businesses.

Faded and gray, she stopped and looked down at her clothes and shoes. No wonder she appeared washed out in the reflections, her medium gray suit blended with the street in the backset. Her hair, a color she had tried to describe as strawberry blond, and then dirty blond and finally pale brown, was pulled back in an informal clip with tendrils falling around her face giving her an unkempt appearance.

"One week down. Six to go," she said with yet another regret of her decision to come to Europe. "It's time to put this romantic crap back in the drawer with the dirty romance novels and finish this job."

With her new resolve, she walked back to work unaware of the menace tracking her from across the street, nor the protector watching her progress from his office fifteen stories in the sky.

Walking into the Kingdom Investments building, Emma met George waiting at the elevators for her. With nothing more than a nod in her directions, he motioned for her to follow him as he continued down the corridor to another elevator used exclusively by the executive staff. She stepped into the small but luxurious space and closed her eyes as the doors closed, eliminating her chance of escape.

"I can probably guess what this is about," she said quietly.

"Save your breath," George responded without looking at her. "I'm sure you believe this is no more than what you deserve."

As they exited the elevator, Emma was too shaken to admire the elaborate décor of the executive suites. Approaching the administrative assistance, George motioned for Emma to stop as he spoke to the woman.

"Sophie, I have escorted the intern as requested."

"Who?"

"Emma Livingston," George responded motioning behind him.

"Oh," Sophie said loudly. "I did not see you standing there."

Too mortified to speak, Emma followed George through office doors and paused when she noted the small, nicely decorated office. A large, intricately carved mahogany desk dominated the room. Other furnishings appeared to be coordinated around the beautiful piece of furniture.

"Where is he?" Emma asked looking around.

"Who?"

"Antony ... uh, Mr. ... I mean, where is Signor Melchiorre?"

"In his office," the little man answered with a hiss, "but I'm sure he'll visit you soon. Meanwhile, here's is your key to the lift and the key to your office."

"My office? You moved me here?"

"Yes, Ms. Livingston," he said with a sigh. "You will arrive here every morning the same time as usual and give a report to Signor Melchiorre every evening beginning tomorrow. Today is considered a loss since you will need to organize your office."

With his final statement, George left the room without a glance at Emma. The day continued without interruption as she unpacked the boxes that had been carefully packaged with the various documents she had been using in her research. By the time she was finished, the day had crossed into early evening and she was now mentally and physically exhausted. As she walked out of her new office, she glanced around the executive suite and notice that no one was there and the lights were extinguished throughout the area. Walking to the elevator, she failed to notice the dark gaze watching her enter the elevator and follow her progress from the building.

When Antony arrived home later, he drove his sports car to the front of the house and passed the keys to the employee waiting for him. Walking to the door, he saw his personal assistant standing just inside the doorway obviously waiting to speak with him.

"Good evening, Alesso," he said greeting the young man. "Let me guess, we are expecting guests."

"Yes, sir. You told me to inform you when they arrive," he responded nearly running to keep up with his employer's large steps.

Entering the library, Antony lifted a decanter in invitation and Alesso shook his head in decline. He watched as the big man drank the rich, red liquid and refilled the crystal goblet.

"So, where is my brother and his brood?"

"Their plane landed twenty minutes ago. They should be here within an hour."

"Has their apartment been prepared?"

"Yes sir," Alesso answered. "I had hoped to discuss the arrangements with you but I took the liberty of moving Signor Philandros from his usual rooms to a larger apartment to accommodate his ... uh ... additional guests."

"Family," Antony answered staring at the bottom of his empty glass.

"Yes sir. I moved them to the west wing of the manor to the family suite. They will have an adequate number of bedrooms, bathrooms, and even a space for the children to ..."

"Keep their distance from me," Antony stated flatly." I'm sure they will be fine."

"Sir, where are you going," Alesso asked watching his employer walk back to the main door.

"Out."

"Out, sir?"

"Out, Alesso," Antony snapped and slammed the door on his way out.

Later that night, Emma moved through her apartment preparing for bed after the exhausting day. As she turned off the light in the studio apartment, she moved to the door checking the locks for the fifth time. Growing up in the system, she had learned to adjust to different beds in different homes. For some reason, she could not relax here but fell asleep only after an exhausting day of work and hours of tossing and turning.

And then, her rest was interrupted by those terrible dreams. Oh not terrible as in "the boogey man is crawling under the bed" way but terrible in the reminder of the things she had never had. After today's events, she may never have them. But tonight, she would welcome her dream lover with open arms.

Releasing an exaggerated sigh, Emma fell onto the soft mattress moving until she was reasonable comfortable and closed her eyes. She must have been more tired than she had thought because she immediately felt the pull of sleep tugging at her consciousness. Even when she felt an odd sensation caress her cheek, she was too tired to swat away the pesky intrusion.

He moved from the shadows approaching the bed as soon as she crawled under the cover. Watching her internal pain and hearing her self-degrading thoughts had tormented him all day. When she closed her eyes, he gently stroked his fingers over her cheek overcoming her mind and forcing her to accept the shelter of peaceful sleep.

Standing over her bed, he watched the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took. Stroking his fingers over her skin, he moved from her face to her neck, tracing the vein that called to him. He smiled at her change of attire. Gone was the virginal white sleep shirt that had covered her flesh from his sight. Tonight, she had opted for a short pink gown with spaghetti straps of silk.

Sitting on her bed, he placed his hands beside her head and leaned close to her. Softly, he pressed his lips against hers willing her to respond to his advance. As hoped, she inhaled, opening her mouth to his invitation. When he traced the soft skin with his tongue, she moaned and shifted beneath his body.

He moved back to look at her face. He had vowed to leave her alone and suffer his loss. But now, as he admired the beauty that was hidden beneath the façade she presented to the world, he knew that he could never leave her. His weakness would be her destruction.

Kissing her again, he moved his fingers to her neck and rejoiced at the evidence of her desire as her blood rushed from his touch. Moving his hand to the straps of one side of her gown, he gently slipped the thin material from her shoulder exposing the expanse of white flesh glowing in the darkness of her apartment. With his mouth covering the bare skin, he kissed a trail across her collar and down to the soft flesh of her left breast. Lowering the other strap, he tugged the material down, smiling when the dark pink tips of her breasts were exposed to his gaze. Every night this week, since he first saw her, he would come to her apartment and patiently wait for her to go to bed.

He could have never explained this addiction he had for her. Was she attractive? Hell, she was beautiful but he had lived long enough to know that beauty was temporal, fading within the first few decades for a human. Every day, this little human would tie her hair back into a restraining knot that someone had deemed appropriate for business executives. Then she would hide her big gray eyes behind the dull earth tone colors of cosmetics but leave her lips bare and pale. Her clothes appropriately covered her body leaving no hint of the curves of soft flesh hidden beneath.

No, even before he had seen this beauty hidden from men's eyes, he had craved her. While he had refused to feast from her body, he had enjoyed the liberty of sampling the delicacy flowing through her veins. His people had strict rules about feeding, and feasting was only permitted between consensual mates.

Shaking his head at the direction of his thoughts, he moved his mouth over the pink tip hardened from exposure to the night air. Sucking the flesh into his mouth, he flicked his tongue over the peak and finally nipped at the skin with his teeth. Before losing his control, he moved to the other breast nibbling at the skin until she was writhing beneath him.

He reached for the hem of her gown and lifted the material above her hips. Slowly he traced his finger over the waistband of her panties and then moved his hand between her legs cupping her moist warmth in the palm of his hand. As he started slowly grinding his hand against her intimately, she clutched his shoulders with her hands digging her nails through his shirt and skin.

Emma started whimpering in a timeless plea for sexual release. Even in sleep, she moved her legs, placing her feet flat on the mattress so she could thrust her hips closer to the source of her pleasure. Entranced by her response, he slipped his finger inside the garment and searched for the opening to her arousal.

Gently he slid his fingers up and down the length of her slit until they were coated with the silky wetness assisting his invasion. Finding the hardened nub above her feminine opening, he alternated between quickly rubbing the flesh and then tenderly pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

Watching her face flush in excitement, he leaned close to her face and kissed her fully on the mouth. As she opened her lips to his invading tongue, she moaned and writhed on the bed nearing her climax. He moved his fingers faster against her body knowing that her satisfaction would be all the pleasure he would receive tonight. Kissing the blood engorged vein at her neck, he could not resist the temptation to add one more crime to tonight's deviancy.

"Say my name," he whispered into her ear never pausing in his ministrations to her body.

As she moved and gripped tighter to his shoulders, he kissed her gently on the lips.

"Emma, say my name."

"Antony," she cried as her body tensed and then released the flow of her climax over his hand as she shuddered in his embrace.

Feeling his fangs elongate, Antony lifted his head to strike, finally satisfying his appetite, when his gaze caught the change in her expression. Startled, he watched her gray eyes widen as she stared, narrowing in focus on the fangs exposed from his opened mouth.