Chapter 11
Russell had agreed. What choice did he really have, once his wife and Mira had demanded to be “included”, which was what he had called it? When Mira was finally relaxing in a hot bath and thinking about her eventful day, she wondered if Luke had gotten into trouble because he had supported them. However, even if that was the case, it wasn’t her problem — and Luke was man enough to face his boss in an argument and not lose it or end up depressed. Now, she had a whole weekend ahead of her before she started at Dumont Ltd on Monday. The compromise Luke had suggested had been very well thought through and sensitively presented, which worked out for all of the parties involved. Depending on their responsibilities, Russell would introduce her and Suzanne to the practicalities at Dumont Ltd over the course of six months. “That is how much time it takes to fully understand the complex processes within this company,” Luke had explained. “You will have to work out your high-flying plans in your spare time, in detail. Numbers and facts are the foundation of any successful business. Passion alone doesn’t make money,” he had warned them, and Russell almost seemed to be relieved. Mira had not expected that he would take her “interference” this easily, not after she and her sister had left him to run the ship whichever way he wanted for all these years. In a way, she almost understood her brother-in-law. Here they were, the two girls, and suddenly they wanted to have a say in what was happening after they had ignored the company for well over seventeen years, while still holding their hands out and taking the money. For someone like him, who saw himself as the breadwinner in his family and who really cared about the image he portrayed to the outside world, this must have been truly offensive and insulting, something he wouldn’t take easily.
Regardless, thanks to Luke, they had found a really great compromise. Mira topped up the hot water and took care not to get her bandaid wet. The warmth felt good on her tense body. All in all, she had had a really good day, even though it had been somewhat exhausting. And who knew, maybe her improvised idea would turn out to be a hit one day. The thought of actually working at Dumont Ltd suddenly no longer seemed like such a bad idea.
There was only one more thing that she had to take care of immediately — Connor Carmichael and his present.
Ten minutes later she sat on the sofa and ran the scarf through her fingers.
Connor had good taste — that she had to acknowledge — assuming that he had searched for this present himself and hadn’t ordered somebody else to do it for him. Mira frowned when she realized how little she knew about him. She had no idea what he had been doing over the past seventeen years and who he had become since then. Everything she knew about him were the memories of a child. It was no wonder that his presence troubled her. She stared at the dark green fabric that was interwoven with a fine golden thread. The color was perfect for her hair and the fabric was light and yet warming. Possibly silk, she thought as she buried her nose in it, before yelling at herself for being childish and foolish. Determined, she wrapped the scarf back into the paper that Suzanne had cast aside without a second thought, and then placed the little package back into the much larger and slightly dented box. Lost in her own thoughts, she twisted and turned the impersonal card with the “get well” wish on it, around in her hand. She herself had never been the type to continuously come up with witty phrases and she wished that she could think of something smart and fitting to remind Connor of his boundaries. In the end, she just crossed out the two words and wrote underneath them: “I only accept presents from friends.” That should suffice. Before she lost her courage completely, she called the reception desk to send someone to pick up the parcel and to return it to its sender, preferably immediately. Thankfully, the sender’s address had been written on the package: Connor Carmichael, c/o The Regency Gentleman’s Club, 23 Westbury Ave.
That should be enough to get it there.
This time, she was prepared to give the bellhop a tip when he came, and she asked him to send the package back today, if possible. “No problem, Miss Dumont,” the young man assured her. “I will make sure that one of our couriers takes care of this immediately. Would you like proof of delivery?”
“Thank you, that would be great,” Mira said and gave the bellhop yet another banknote.
So… she thought. The problem had been taken care of. She was tired but at the same time so full of beans that she couldn’t possibly go to sleep now. She had actually managed to keep thoughts of Connor out of her head for the best part of the day, but in her current condition that was no longer possible. Even when he wasn’t present, he still somehow managed to make her feel vulnerable. It wasn’t so much the perspective of an eight-year-old that haunted her, but much more the incompatibility of the two images she had of Connor from back then and today. She remembered that her mother had met him during her work at a charity organization. Maybe, back then, it had been her favorite project, where she was helping homeless children or those youths having trouble with the law. Mira couldn’t exactly recall what it had been. Her mother had seen something in Connor that had driven her to offer him a job in her husband’s company. What had it been that mom had recognized in him? There was only one way to drive Connor out of her head once and for all. Know your enemies, she suddenly thought. And what better opportunity was there these days than to troll the worldwide web to confront someone without actually having to deal with them in person? She got comfortable on the sofa, with her laptop on her knees, a bar of nougat chocolate, and a hot cup of tea. She had had enough of coffee for today.
She typed “Connor Carmichael” into the search engine and watched in surprise as the very first results turned out to be real hits. It was her Connor Carmichael that she recognized in several pictures with numerous articles about him. She had expected a tedious search ahead of her, since his name wasn’t exactly unique, even though it wasn’t too common either. And now she watched one listing after another popping up in front of her eyes.
This was insane. Connor Carmichael was a well-known personality and could maybe even be considered famous. Without clicking on any of the articles, Mira scrolled quickly through five whole pages of results. Roughly half of them had to do with his company and their clientele, while the rest featured his private life.
This really was impressive. Mira took a big gulp of her tea, even though she would have preferred something stronger at this point, which she decided against, due to her still taking pain medication. She had to stay clear and level-headed. The melting chocolate didn’t last very long.
While she had been going to school and then university in Europe, Connor had been busy during those years and had built a very successful existence for himself. It was more than that though, Mira thought, as she looked over his company’s homepage. The title “Imperium” seemed very fitting for what Connor now called his own. According to his official career summary, he had started in the security industry. At 22 years old, Connor had already had twenty employees helping him to protect famous and beautiful people on the West Coast from stalkers and overly zealous fans. After that, things had happened rather quickly. Within the following year, he was working as “Top Dog Security” throughout the entire nation. He was deemed the most capable personal security guard in the U.S., which apparently still counted today, if Mira read the article correctly. After he had made his first million in this very competitive industry, Connor had invested in various companies in the industrial sector. Complex security systems claiming infallibility were added to his arsenal, and so were additional electronically-based businesses. Mira wondered which volatile area of his company was the one hiding behind this phrase, but she decided to look deeper into this subject on another day. Her head already felt like it could burst at any second.
The next article was a profile of him in a scientific magazine. The author was a very well-known business journalist — someone Mira had heard of before. It didn’t take a lot to read between those lines talking about this “charismatic company founder”, who had left behind his “dubious past”, to recognize a certain giddy infatuation with him. When he is then also described as the “sexiest CEO alive”, Mira asked herself if the otherwise highly educated author may have actually lost her marbles. However, when his overall estimated monetary worth was mentioned, she realized that she had pretty much experienced the same thing as the journalist, just for different reasons.
She had studied economic science. How had Connor Carmichael never appeared on her radar? Was this because his companies operated predominantly in the U.S., or because she had purposefully closed her eyes towards him? Connor Carmichael was a freaking millionaire and she didn’t even know it. More importantly, he was now a self-made billionaire, and one who had worked his way up to the top by himself – from nothing – and who now had more money than he would be able to spend in ten lifetimes. Mira finally realized why he wouldn’t stay in a hotel, but preferred a noble gentlemen’s club, which were a tradition in England.
She knew for certain then, that the shot hadn’t been meant for her, but for him! A man with so much power who controlled almost an entire business industry, would surely have numerous enemies. Mira felt a very slight tingling inside her belly, which grew into a loud giggle. A couple of seconds later, she actually burst out laughing, which shook her entire body.
The man who had based his entire wealth on the establishment of security agencies, had now become the target of an assassin.
The phone rang. The caller was either extremely patient or persistent, because it took a while before Mira finally calmed down enough after her outburst, to pick up the phone and say her name.
“We were friends once.”
Her heart skipped a beat. He had received his package with the scarf faster than she had anticipated. Now she wished that Hyborn’s service had been less reliable and quick.
“Not anymore,” she whispered. The other end of the line stayed silent. She didn’t even hear him breathe. Mira closed her eyes and saw his face, self-confident, cool, and distant. “Also, I don’t really think that an eight-year-old girl can really be friends with an eighteen-year-old boy.”
The noise that travelled into her ear, made it sound as if he was directly next to her and not miles away. She felt how the tiny hairs on her neck stood up on end.
“We could become friends again,” he said. His words were almost as intimate as a caress, like a secret only they shared.
“No,” she replied, a little harsher than she had planned to sound. “No.”
“Why are you scared of me?” Velvet. Steel. Heart racing. His smell. The effortlessness with which he had picked her up back then. For just one split second she thought that she saw blood. At first, she wanted to deny it and tell Connor that she wasn’t scared of him, but he would sense her lie like a predator would feel the weakness of his prey.
“Because you are a murderer.” Just this morning, she had defended him towards her sister and had said that there could theoretically be a possibility that he was innocent, even though it wasn’t likely. Now that she heard his voice, any rational thinking seemed impossible. She felt like an animal trapped in a corner and her instinct told her that an attack was the only possible way out.
“I did not kill your father, Mira.”
“Liar,” she said with a voice that she could hardly recognize as her own. “I will find out the truth about what happened that night, Connor.” She had finally caught herself and calmed down somewhat.
“Let me help you,” he suggested. For the length of time it took for one heartbeat, Mira was speechless. “It is very much in my own interest to find the real murderer.” It sounded, as if he wanted to add something else and Mira waited for him to finish his sentence. But he didn’t say anything else.
“Why now?” She put all of her suspicion into this question when she asked. “So many years have passed by. They released you back then, and you cannot be prosecuted for the same crime twice. So, let me ask you again: Why now?”
“Because someone is obviously trying to kill me,” he replied coldly.
“Of course, silly me,” replied Mira sharply and was immediately happy about the fact that she no longer sounded like a scared little girl. “And now you are thinking that either my sister, me, or the both of us are trying to kill you because the justice system failed us back then. There is no way that you could have made yourself some enemies anywhere else.” These words came close to what she had said and thought already, but he didn’t need to know that. Sarcasm was one of her strengths and was a formidable weapon, especially when she felt that she was in the weaker position.
“That is an interesting conclusion,” she heard him say on the other end. “But I have to disappoint you. Neither you, nor your sister have enough grit or spunk to kill anyone, or even to have someone killed. You two are princesses and you have been spoiled your entire lives. Something like vengeance wouldn’t cause either one of you to get your fingers dirty, and the truth only becomes interesting to you when your own head is on the line.”
“Just like you,” replied Mira. “You are only interested in this truth, since your own life is in jeopardy.” His breathing was the only connection between them. “Vengeance is not passionate, it’s stupid,” she heard herself say. She and Connor seemed to have switched roles. “And neither my sister, nor I are scared of getting our fingers dirty, you arrogant bastard.” She heard a weirdly satisfied laugh on the other end of the line, but she shook it off. “What do you want, Connor? Why don’t you just say it like a man, instead of sending me expensive and meaningless gifts that I don’t want.”
“I want the exact same thing as you: the truth.”
Mira’s heart was beating furiously, as if she had just finished a marathon. “So, what are you suggesting? And don’t tell me that you hadn’t thought about exactly what you want before you called me.” It was a shot in the dark.
“You know me better than I thought. Alright then. Let’s find out together what actually happened that night, seventeen years ago.”
She was completely speechless. What had gotten into her sister and Connor, where they now both tried to rip open old wounds at the same time? If it was up to her, the past could stay where it was, forgotten and ignored, buried somewhere deep and never to be talked about again. “And how do you think that would work?” Mira should have ended the conversation. What Connor suggested was absurd and it made her even more suspicious of him. Suzanne would have said that he would want to monitor and control their investigation, and her, by pretending to be a partner in this research and clinging to her every move. And then there was the gunshot. Only someone completely crazy or a very desperate individual would create an attack on themselves. Was Connor such a person? He had been determined that the shot had been aimed at him. On the other hand, he had saved her. Or had this also been part of his plan to earn her trust?
She shook off her paranoid thoughts. It was good and made sense to be careful with regards to Connor Carmichael, but if Mira wasn’t careful enough, she knew that she would see him in almost every shadow.
“That’s easy,” Connor said then. “We will begin by collecting objective facts. I am sure that you have access to all the files that your lawyers have, even though it might take some persuasion for them to release them to you. Then you will hand them over to me.” Mira was just about to tell him how insane his plan was, when he continued: “Obviously, I will offer you the same courtesy. We will then compare our memories from that particular night. This should help us form a pretty clear picture. It will give us a great starting point from which we can then systematically go on further.”
“This all sounds too good to be true,” she carefully replied. “So, why do I have the feeling that — with all of your seemingly open honesty — you are still hiding something from me?”
“Because you are not only beautiful, but also smart,” Connor answered so quickly that Mira didn’t think she had heard him correctly. “How long would you need in order to get hold of the files? It’s Saturday now, but I am almost certain that your lawyers can be persuaded to have all the documents ready and copies made for you by Monday afternoon. How about we meet on Monday evening at 8pm for dinner? I will have you picked up by 7.30pm at the Hyborn Hotel.” And then the call ended. He hadn’t even given her a chance to accept or decline his proposition. You wait, Mira thought, and she felt how her lips curled up into a smile. You may have had the last word today, but this won’t be happening any longer.
Later when she was in bed and had her nose pressed into Mister Knister, she realized what he had also said to her earlier: Because you are not only beautiful, but also smart. She fell asleep with this sentence in her ear and his voice in her head.