Echoes in Eternity (The Pella Series Book 1) (11 page)

I close my mind to everything, unable to move, lying on the floor, resisting, but my heart is finally serene knowing that all the people I love are safe and away; they won’t see me in the moment of my death. My eyes closed I whisper, “I love you Alexander! I love you Agnes and Jill! I’ll always love you...” I whisper.

Then it happens: wind ruffles my hair unexpectedly, and I feel as if someone is yanking my body out of hell by an invisible hand, hands maybe. I scream. I hear nothing at first, not a single noise, not a word, just darkness, the feeling of falling through the empty space, and the wind, just the wind. I’m cut from all my senses. Is this death? Then my senses come back to life in a rush, I hear more screams. No physical pain, but sharp aching of my soul and utter, excruciating sorrow piercing through my heart. This is worse than death, worse than nothingness. Then I feel being pulled in a wind tunnel. Wind all around, whipping, rustling, gentle, lulling. The pain of loss is dulling, but the ache is still piercing, emanating like electric shock, and ripping my soul into small shreds. The face of an old Pueblo man emerges with bottomless eyes, and deep wrinkles. Do I know him? I think I know him. One feather hangs from the left braid of his hair. The eyes which have seen too many years are marked with deep lines. And from his ears dangles what looks like two earrings too heavy for his ears to carry. I can see it all in this windy haze. His too thin lips are tightly closed. His slanted nose must have been broken a long time ago, and didn’t heal correctly. His Pueblo headband wrapped around the crown of his head twice is tied in a tight knot on the left side of his head. A faded poncho is covering his torso and whipping quickly in the wind. Then he opens his thin lips and speaks to me in a sad melodic voice.

“This is the best I can manage to do Elissa, daughter of Marcus. May the seeds of your memory blossom at the right time...
may the right words by the one you have ties of paternity or the ties of the soul water them and let them blossom in full strength. May your body and soul take charge of its possession on her own when the time is ripe for you,” he says in that lilting voice, and presses something into my skin under my arm at the base of my right breast as he floats me further in the tunnel made of wind.

“This is as close to your heart and soul I can get without damaging your past... May you find your way home child of Marcus, wife of Alexander Aurelius, mother of Agnes and Jill. Hear my last words, and wake up to a new beginning... Hear my last words and forget the past and remain shadowed away from the
Fallen Angels
... Hear my last words and don’t...give...up...on...love...” he says in an old language, and pushes me forward with such a force that I’m sucked into a cyclone like energy, and finally nothingness...

“Ellie!!! Ellie! Wake up!” Someone shakes me with concern.

“Should we call a doctor sir?” asks the concerned male voice.

“The doctor is already here!” snaps a dominant male voice sternly.

“My apologies, sir,” replies the meek one.

“Is the security waiting outside?” asks the commanding voice.

“Yes, he is, sir,” replies the first voice in a soft tone as if to not to wake me.

“He can’t leave until he gives me a full report of what happened!” orders the dominant voice. “Make sure he remains!” he commands with an unmistakable scorn.

“Yes, sir,” replies the soft voice then I hear scuttling footsteps distancing towards the door. When the footsteps cease, I don’t hear a door open and close. The dominant male voice gentles, and speaks to me softly; his words caressing my name, as strong arms are gently rocking me in an assuaging rhythm.

“Miss Duncan? Ellie? Wake up... You’re alright. You just passed out in your car. Wake up.” A hand is slowly, soothingly rubbing my hair. I feel everything, and I hear him, but why can’t I open my eyes?

“Doc?” his voice asks concerned.

“She’ll come to herself in a few minutes. She must have had a shock. The security said she had a near accident. He was merely inches away from hitting her. He claims that he didn’t see her, and he said she was pretty shaken when he managed to stop his car...” says a gentle but authoritative voice.

“Fuck! How could he not see a woman walking in a huge parking lot? What was he looking at?” 

“He claims that she bent down to pick her purse up which was why he didn’t see her as he was going up on a slope. But he stated that soon after he helped the young lady into her car, she passed out. He said he tried to wake her up seeing
as she had fainted, but she wouldn’t wake up which is very common with shock. That’s when he radioed for help. She must have had a hard week, and possibly the near miss was the last drop overflowing her cup.”

It is evident that a
shudder just went through her body. She’s shivering. “Will she be alright?” he asks concerned.

“Of course. It’s just the way the body copes with shock, Alex. It’s a physiological response. Our bodies are used to dealing with events at a slower rate where it can control the response. When something traumatic happens, the brain cannot comprehend what’s happening because it happens so rapidly, and being nearly hit by a car will do that to you. Her body simpl
y pulled all the blood into her center as a protective and defensive measure away from the extremities. Her brain temporarily shut down.”

“But she
’s hot and cold at the same time,” says the concerned voice.

             
“The hypothalamus gland regulates the body temperature. When the brain shuts down, so does the gland. Nothing to worry about...” he says, but I hear the worry in the doctor’s voice. I try to move my fingers. Tips of my fingers manage to move.

“You should better lay her down. I think she’s coming to her senses now, and my work here is done,” says the Doctor’s voice.

“Are you sure Hen...” the dominant voice falters as he’s interrupted.

“Absolutely sure. I examined her,” replies the doctor, sternly. I feel being laid on a leather surface. A soft moan escapes my lips.

“Ellie, are you hurt?” asks his concern laden voice.

“
Oww!” I manage to groan in a gruff voice, barely able to crack my eyes open, feeling like I had the biggest hangover ever. I know that, because my two best friends took me to Tijuana for my 18
th
 birthday and the drinking binge we had together gave me the same pounding headache with a sick feeling, making me dizzy and light headed, with a dry, parched throat. I try to swing my leg down to sit up, but I immediately feel out of balance, my stomach aches, my heart races and my eyes burn,  giving me a headache when I try to open them, I instantly close them. Voices are amplified in my head. I feel feverish; especially my arms feel on fire.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up Miss Duncan!”
A voice orders, and I recognize it to be Alex’s... Mr. Pella’s voice.

“Sorry.... I don’t know what came over me,” I murmur.

“Rest assured, I will deal with the security guard for nearly hitting you and putting you into shock,” his voice murmurs in a low but clearly audible tone.

“I’m equally guilty; I should have paid attention,” I reply. “I feel okay now, I should get going,” I add.

“I don’t think you’re up to driving two hours Miss Duncan. I will have someone drive you to your home.”

“Nooo!” I protest, but then my head betrays me as my own voice pounds my head like a club and I end up holding my head between my hands.

“Just as I thought! I don’t want to be the cause of my new assistant’s injury before she starts working for me,” he counters in a caressing, sensual tone having recovered his equilibrium.

“The assistant on trial...” I correct him with a low murmur
with my eyes closed. Somehow I feel him smirk at me.

“Anthony will drive you home, and he will also pick you up.”

“But...” I protest, but he cuts me off.

“I told you earlier Miss Duncan. If I intend to keep a good employee for a long time, then I do whatever is in my power to secure that employee’s well-being for his or her maximum productivity,” he says in his self-assured tone.

“It’s kind of you,” I reply in an acerbic tone, my hand still holding my pounding head, my eyes are still closed. I think he’s smiling at my response, but I can’t see him. Even if I was blindfolded I would feel his magnetism. His pull. He must have moved closer to me because I feel his breath near my ear.

“Do you wish to stay? The Doctor said that you need some rest. I can...” his voice trails off, “I can take you to my apartment in town, and make sure you get some care,” he says as each word is gentle, and soft.
I turn my head in his direction slowly, finally managing to open my eyes. He’s sitting near me, but not crowding me. His gaze is laced with concern; he looks anxious. His hands are on his lap, splayed open.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to stay with my prospective new boss,” I reply in a soft voice, though internally I kick myself. How can I desire a man I’ve just met so desperately, so voraciously?

“I have a house... I can go there while you’re in my apartment. That way, you won’t feel crowded with my presence and I can have someone to provide care for you for the duration of the night. Please... You’ve just passed out in my building right after one of my security guards nearly hit you with my company car.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Pella... I’m not planning to sue. Like I said, I’m equally guilty,” I reply turning my head back to look at my lap.

“You’re wounding me, Miss Duncan. I didn’t mean to extend my courtesy because I thought you would sue me, although it would be within your rights to do so. I am however, genuinely concerned about your well-being. You can call your family and let them know where you are if that’s going to make you feel secure.”

“No, it’s not that... I don’t want to put you out of your home, inconveniencing you,” I stutter my answer looking up at him again.

“Well,” he says smiling as he showcases his gorgeous teeth marking his kissable mouth and slightly leaning in but never touching, “I have a couple of spare guestrooms in my apartment. You are more than welcome to use one of them... tonight. Do you wish me to stay in my apartment, Ellie?” he asks in the most seductive tone. My heart is pounding in my ears. Is it his proximity or my earlier experience? I swallow. My lips part and I slowly exhale. My body gets hotter, and I press my knees together to suppress a foreign urge I never had before. Other than the small glint in his eyes, he doesn’t give me any other indication of his thoughts.

“It’s your apartment. I couldn’t put you out... Do you make a habit of letting your employees stay with you?”

“No, never,” he replies decidedly and firmly looking at me with his piercing eyes. “However, my close security detail as well as my personal assistant must know both my apartment and my home in and out as you may be required to work around the clock sometimes. Part of the job...” he says shrugging as if he has this discussion every day. “But, tonight, you would just. Be. A. Guest...” he adds softly.

“Oh,” I reply disappointed. Of course... Part of the job... I wonder if the Busty One and Two had spent the night as guests in his apartment. From the bits and pieces of their conversation I’ve heard, they probably spent the night as super-duper special guests, and mostly making love through the night. Oddly, jealousy burns me inside, and I close my eyes tightly, my face has a pained expression.

“Ellie, are you hurting?” he says in a low voice his hands immediately holding my shoulders trying to decipher my facial expression. The connection jolts me, making me shudder, puts me in full awareness of his presence. Somehow his presence demands, orders me to look at him. I open my eyes slightly and when I turn my head, I’m face to face with him, and all I can focus on is his chiseled mouth. I force myself to look up to his eyes, and they are laced with concern and somehow so familiar. His dark blue gaze is focused on my face and on my reaction. His hair is dark and wavy and cut short. I almost wish that his hair was longer, long enough for me to run my fingers through. I feel a blush creep up on my face with my wayward thought and I close my eyes.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?” he asks as one of his hands gently runs on my cheek. This soft, sensual touch awakens feelings in me I didn’t know existed, clenching muscles inside me I have never utilized, and I find myself leaning into his soft caresses. The feeling is so new, so enticing, so captivating, yet oddly and distantly familiar. Can I work for this man when I feel this intense attraction for him? Every time he has female company I’m going to feel jealous and I have no right to! What if he has a girlfriend or preapproved female companions? Considering even the employees he chooses to work for him have to be screened before they even get an interview, who is to say he doesn’t have an entire department dedicated to approving their body proportions and sexual skills before they can occupy his bed. Oh, shit! I groan in pain. Immediately both his hands are gently on my face pushing my hair back, examining me. When I open my eyes, we’re only inches apart. I swallow hard. His gaze is intense, probing; some hidden pain is barely evident in that burning gaze of his.

“Ellie? Please, talk to me,” his voice is urgent.
 

“Yes,” I croak. His relief is evident with that single word.
The corner of his very kissable mouth twitches into a half smile.