Chapter 9

“Good afternoon, Ms. Mauricio,” Williamson said, entering the foyer.

Bella Lisa’s head turned sharply toward the husky masculine voice.

“You again…”

“Yes, it’s me again. The famous Mr. Williamson,” he said pleasantly, with a half-smile creasing his handsome face.

She caught her breath at the sight of him. He wore a sharply tailored Armani suit with an ocean blue pressed shirt open at the collar, no tie and stylish black shoes. He appeared freshly scrubbed and coiffed, his thick hair slicked back, still wet from the shower. She breathed the aroma of soap tinged with a healthy slap of his musky men’s cologne, reminding her of that night in the dark of the theater, four years ago. He didn’t seem to have aged, perhaps even looked younger and more robust than she remembered.

Suddenly she felt embarrassed, almost as if she were naked, standing there in front of someone so impossibly handsome and impeccably dressed, in her simple jeans, sweater and imitation leather pumps.

Even in her simple clothes, perhaps even more so, Bella Lisa looked gorgeous.

Staring at her, Williamson felt his heart pound in his chest, his blood coursed thickly and swiftly through his veins. Not since the all too brief and memorable affair with his lovely sub, Laura, had Williamson felt so thrilled to be in the presence of a woman. He felt the same nervous excitement to once again be near Bella Lisa, and the stabbing inguinal ache returned.

“I apologize for being a few minutes late for our appointment. I was unavoidably delayed. It’s good to see you again, Ms. Mauricio…”

Bella Lisa stared at him, speechless, mesmerized by his deep gravelly voice and cold dark eyes. Looking into his eyes was like peering into the mouth of a black fathomless cave, which he was beckoning her to enter. His voice had an oddly soothing effect upon her. As her breathing began to slow, she felt like some kind of willing prey, a field mouse held captive in the glamorous eyes of a coiled snake.

“Come. Let’s relax on the couch and have a chat, shall we? I know you must’ve had a long and trying day.”

Williamson crossed the floor and sat down on a matching loveseat, next to the couch, elegantly crossing his legs and looking up at her. She stood her ground.

Williamson marveled at how pretty and vulnerable she looked, even after the nine hour drive, in her simple yet fetching clothes.

“Come. Sit. Relax…,” Williamson purred, patting the couch with his long fingers.

His voice had the intended hypnotic effect on her and despite her misgivings she reluctantly obeyed, walking slowly and tentatively back to the couch and sitting down.

She stared ahead as Williamson gazed at her. Firmin cleared his throat and spoke.

“Will you be needing any further—?”

“No thank you, Firmin. You may leave us.”

Bella Lisa looked over and the man’s body seemed to have instantly disappeared, though she heard the butler’s echoing footsteps as he receded into the shadows. She looked over at Williamson and he smiled at her. He looked genuinely happy, no longer the tortured soul she saw at the theater, but more like a child about to begin a highly anticipated and long awaited play date. She relaxed somewhat in his presence, but stiffened every time her eyes drifted over to the thick mysterious file on the table in front of her.

“Where are my manners? I’m not used to having a guest here. I’m terribly sorry. Would you like a drink after your long trip, Ms. Mauricio? Wine, juice, soda? Sparkling water, perhaps?”

“A glass of water would be fine,” she said, avoiding eye contact and looking at her hands.

“Coming right up.”

Williamson walked across the spacious room to a bar and came back, placing two crystal glasses on the table in front on her by their stems, opened a bottle of cold European sparkling water and poured.

“Thank you,” she forced herself to say, tight-lipped, looking down at her clenched fists.

Williamson took a long drink and watched Bella Lisa take a little sip, leaving an impression of her red lipstick on the rim of the glass.

“Now, how was your last week of college? I wish I could’ve gotten away to attend—”

Suddenly the situation became clear to her. There was only one reason a man would want to sit through a long hot boring ceremony for her. Having another man obsessed with her was familiar ground, something she could understand and deal with. She interrupted him.

“Let’s stop the small talk, shall we? I’m sure you didn’t invite me here to talk about my last week of finals or the interminable graduation ceremony.”

“That is only partially true. Actually, I am quite interested in—”

“Would you mind telling me what’s going on here? Why did my father leave me here, trapped in your home? And why alone? With you…”

“I respect your directness. Shall I get right to the point, Ms. Mauricio?”

“I’d appreciate that, Mr. Williamson.”

“Please call me Phillipe.”

“I’d rather not.”

“As you prefer.”

Williamson took a deep breath and began.

“It’s quite simple really. Your father left you here so we could privately to discuss a job offer. He has conveyed to me your outstanding academic success in Stanford University’s School of Social Work. I’d like to hire you, Ms. Mauricio, on a one week contract, as my personal assistant. You could think of it as a trial internship, which will be over in the blink of an eye. Due to the success of my business enterprises, I find myself laden by an embarrassment of riches. For tax purposes, my lawyers have created what they’re calling, “The Williamson Charitable Foundation”. The endowment is described in the document you see on the table before you. There’s also a computer in your bedroom where you can also read more about it at williamsoninvestmentandrealestateservices.com, my apologies to your pretty little fingers in advance for having to type in my company’s abnormally long email address. I want to give away around Ten Million dollars or so to some worthy non-profit organizations. I thought with your particular expertise, you would know how best to distribute the endowment.