Read Online 4 Rainy Days and Monday by Robert Michael - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Michael
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Forsythe no longer is in charge here. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
She felt as much as heard him come forward, closing the gap toward her. She resisted the temptation to cringe in preparation for the physical contact she knew would come. He would be interested in setting an example. It was going to hurt. She remained still.
Pain would be all right. She could deal with pain. She could lose herself there in the place where the needs of her body overruled the need of her mind to think .
Rough, thick hands grabbed her beneath her chin and brought her face up to the light.
“Open your eyes, Giselle.” His breath was hot on her face. It smelled like butterscotch.
Giselle inhaled quickly and obeyed.
“Such beautiful eyes,” Lars said.
She swallowed. He would know the word. She prayed silently that her eyes did not give her away.
In the glaring light of the bulb, the shadows of Lars’ face were pronounced. They made him seem even more intimidating than usual. Her father had orchestrated his position at Galbraith. Only, Clarence had discovered his duplicity. Had also offered to help, it seemed.
Ah, treachery knew no bounds.
The thread of truth was slippery with the oil of deceit. It was like those pictures that changed the closer you inspected them, revealing patterns and images that were hidden in plain sight. Galbraith. Sinegem. ViVeri. The Mystery Man. Jake. Her mother. Eiliff. The faces and images melded, swirled and coalesced into a different image.
Her programming had rendered her powerless, had assisted in the delusion. The depth of the betrayal, the extent of the deception, was monumental. She could not breathe.
Above her, Lars blinked slowly.
Behind him, just outside the ring of light, Giselle noted the form of his assistant, Violet. Of course she was there. It all made sense.
Where was the coin? If only they can give it to me, I can escape this, Giselle thought, desperate.
“I know you recognize me. Perhaps you are hoping I will say the word.” He smirked at her, his eyes twinkling with malicious mirth. He turned his head back to Violet. “That was Calvin’s idea, you know?”
Giselle said nothing.
He squeezed the base of her chin hard. She blinked once. It felt like he could crush the delicate bones there with his bare hands. He was so strong. Like a Russian bear.
“Your mother would be disappointed, I am sure. She thought you were her secret weapon. You have been used, Giselle. Used by your father. Used by your employer. Used even by your own mother. You were her hidden queen, a chess piece she hoped to use to create an historical checkmate when the time came. It is a shame, really.”
She blinked, a tear running down her cheek. Giselle felt her breathing get shallow as she succumbed to sadness.
Madness or great pain shone in Lars’ eyes.
“So you can process what we are saying. Good. Know this: we are not just here to retrieve our hardware. We are here for a much greater purpose. We need to know that you are ready to play a new role.”
She steeled herself, knowing that she could not resist. He knew. He knew all her secrets.
“What do you want?” she asked through her teeth. His grip rendered the delivery of her question more bluntly than she had intended.
Lars smiled. In his eyes, Giselle could see the fires of the dragon, the truth behind its three heads, and the hopelessness of the brave knight.
“Dear, we want you to destroy ViVeri,” he said. “You are our Trojan Horse.”
Chapter Eight
Born to Rage for My Father’s Pain
T he television was a distraction. The new President of the United States was speaking. Jake listened, but his mind was wandering. He had spoken with her just moments ago. It seemed surreal to see her at her desk in a secure location.
Vivian Walker seemed composed. Focused. Pissed off.
From what he understood, the Democrats were grooming her for the ticket in the next election. The DNC was scheduled for the following September. After talking to
“Yes sir.”
She felt as much as heard him come forward, closing the gap toward her. She resisted the temptation to cringe in preparation for the physical contact she knew would come. He would be interested in setting an example. It was going to hurt. She remained still.
Pain would be all right. She could deal with pain. She could lose herself there in the place where the needs of her body overruled the need of her mind to think .
Rough, thick hands grabbed her beneath her chin and brought her face up to the light.
“Open your eyes, Giselle.” His breath was hot on her face. It smelled like butterscotch.
Giselle inhaled quickly and obeyed.
“Such beautiful eyes,” Lars said.
She swallowed. He would know the word. She prayed silently that her eyes did not give her away.
In the glaring light of the bulb, the shadows of Lars’ face were pronounced. They made him seem even more intimidating than usual. Her father had orchestrated his position at Galbraith. Only, Clarence had discovered his duplicity. Had also offered to help, it seemed.
Ah, treachery knew no bounds.
The thread of truth was slippery with the oil of deceit. It was like those pictures that changed the closer you inspected them, revealing patterns and images that were hidden in plain sight. Galbraith. Sinegem. ViVeri. The Mystery Man. Jake. Her mother. Eiliff. The faces and images melded, swirled and coalesced into a different image.
Her programming had rendered her powerless, had assisted in the delusion. The depth of the betrayal, the extent of the deception, was monumental. She could not breathe.
Above her, Lars blinked slowly.
Behind him, just outside the ring of light, Giselle noted the form of his assistant, Violet. Of course she was there. It all made sense.
Where was the coin? If only they can give it to me, I can escape this, Giselle thought, desperate.
“I know you recognize me. Perhaps you are hoping I will say the word.” He smirked at her, his eyes twinkling with malicious mirth. He turned his head back to Violet. “That was Calvin’s idea, you know?”
Giselle said nothing.
He squeezed the base of her chin hard. She blinked once. It felt like he could crush the delicate bones there with his bare hands. He was so strong. Like a Russian bear.
“Your mother would be disappointed, I am sure. She thought you were her secret weapon. You have been used, Giselle. Used by your father. Used by your employer. Used even by your own mother. You were her hidden queen, a chess piece she hoped to use to create an historical checkmate when the time came. It is a shame, really.”
She blinked, a tear running down her cheek. Giselle felt her breathing get shallow as she succumbed to sadness.
Madness or great pain shone in Lars’ eyes.
“So you can process what we are saying. Good. Know this: we are not just here to retrieve our hardware. We are here for a much greater purpose. We need to know that you are ready to play a new role.”
She steeled herself, knowing that she could not resist. He knew. He knew all her secrets.
“What do you want?” she asked through her teeth. His grip rendered the delivery of her question more bluntly than she had intended.
Lars smiled. In his eyes, Giselle could see the fires of the dragon, the truth behind its three heads, and the hopelessness of the brave knight.
“Dear, we want you to destroy ViVeri,” he said. “You are our Trojan Horse.”
Chapter Eight
Born to Rage for My Father’s Pain
T he television was a distraction. The new President of the United States was speaking. Jake listened, but his mind was wandering. He had spoken with her just moments ago. It seemed surreal to see her at her desk in a secure location.
Vivian Walker seemed composed. Focused. Pissed off.
From what he understood, the Democrats were grooming her for the ticket in the next election. The DNC was scheduled for the following September. After talking to
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