Read Online Drawn to Life by Elisabeth Wagner - Free Book Online
Authors: Elisabeth Wagner
Ads: Link
even notice my newborn-stalker-self, because her eyes were still shut. Her entire body was tense, and her face contorted with pain. I could see little wrinkles crease her forehead.
“Is everything OK?” I asked.
She stopped moving and opened her eyes wide. Those eyes . . . They were vast and green. No, not green . . . emerald. Never before had I seen eyes like hers. I had already thought this woman was attractive. I had even more evidence now.
She didn’t answer, she only stared at me. She was still holding her right hand, massaging it. But her body had visibly relaxed. The wrinkles on her forehead disappeared and her shoulders dropped. A healthy pink now colored her cheeks. She looked perfect. I was hypnotized.
I rubbed my face, then my eyes, and shook my head, trying to regain control of my thoughts.
“Is everything OK?” I repeated gently.
For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Then there they were again . . . those huge emerald eyes. She exhaled.
She opened her mouth, blinked a few times, then closed it again. There was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat and softly said, “Um . . . Yes. It’ll be all right in a minute.”
Her voice was . . . wow. Enchanting. Bright and clear. But I could hear an underlying sadness. Although she tried to appear cheerful, that poignant tone gave her away.
I smiled at her, hoping for a smile in return. But she just widened her eyes and stared at me, as if suddenly terrified, then quickly turned away.
I was startled by her behavior, but why shouldn’t she react like that? I was a stranger, and she didn’t know what I might want from her. Why was I gawking at her like that, anyway?
All I wanted was to sit here peacefully and enjoy my alone time. But the events that had caused me to abandon my former life replayed in my mind.
Chapter 9 ½
Samuel—I’m Not Doing This
Vienna, May 2012
“Hey there, buddy.” Without knocking first, my dad, CEO of the architectural firm I worked for, entered my office. He approached behind me, then put one hand on my shoulder. Quickly, I finished typing an e-mail, hit “Send,” and turned around. I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“Just wanted to bring you some documents,” my father said and handed me a thick binder.
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. “That’s what you come to my office for? Is your secretary on vacation?”
Matthias Winter laughed his deep, sonorous laugh. “No, no. These are important, and I wanted to personally ensure you got them.”
I shook my head. “Right, because Brigitte would have lost them,” I said, giving him a look. My father would have been adrift without her. She organized everything—private and professional meetings, all his correspondence. Sometimes I wondered whether she also cooked for him and did his laundry. Brigitte was more than a secretary. She was his veritable girl Friday. She would never lose any documents.
“Well, this binder was supposed to get to you earlier. But that’s not important now. What is important is I’m giving you your own project.”
I jumped from my chair with such enthusiasm that it almost toppled over.
“Really?” I asked. I had been working in my father’s architecture firm as junior officer for six months, but so far, he hadn’t let me oversee any projects. All I did was administrative work, the same as I had been doing for him since I was in college. I was nothing more than a second secretary.
“Take it easy, son. Familiarize yourself with these papers, then come to my office so we can discuss the details,” he said.
“Yessss!” I pumped a fist in the air after he’d closed the door behind him. I had been working toward this moment. Finally, I had a chance to prove myself.
I opened the binder and studied every page, then leafed through it again, more quickly. I hesitated and scrutinized the notes again. He couldn’t be serious. Was this
“Is everything OK?” I asked.
She stopped moving and opened her eyes wide. Those eyes . . . They were vast and green. No, not green . . . emerald. Never before had I seen eyes like hers. I had already thought this woman was attractive. I had even more evidence now.
She didn’t answer, she only stared at me. She was still holding her right hand, massaging it. But her body had visibly relaxed. The wrinkles on her forehead disappeared and her shoulders dropped. A healthy pink now colored her cheeks. She looked perfect. I was hypnotized.
I rubbed my face, then my eyes, and shook my head, trying to regain control of my thoughts.
“Is everything OK?” I repeated gently.
For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Then there they were again . . . those huge emerald eyes. She exhaled.
She opened her mouth, blinked a few times, then closed it again. There was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat and softly said, “Um . . . Yes. It’ll be all right in a minute.”
Her voice was . . . wow. Enchanting. Bright and clear. But I could hear an underlying sadness. Although she tried to appear cheerful, that poignant tone gave her away.
I smiled at her, hoping for a smile in return. But she just widened her eyes and stared at me, as if suddenly terrified, then quickly turned away.
I was startled by her behavior, but why shouldn’t she react like that? I was a stranger, and she didn’t know what I might want from her. Why was I gawking at her like that, anyway?
All I wanted was to sit here peacefully and enjoy my alone time. But the events that had caused me to abandon my former life replayed in my mind.
Chapter 9 ½
Samuel—I’m Not Doing This
Vienna, May 2012
“Hey there, buddy.” Without knocking first, my dad, CEO of the architectural firm I worked for, entered my office. He approached behind me, then put one hand on my shoulder. Quickly, I finished typing an e-mail, hit “Send,” and turned around. I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“Just wanted to bring you some documents,” my father said and handed me a thick binder.
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. “That’s what you come to my office for? Is your secretary on vacation?”
Matthias Winter laughed his deep, sonorous laugh. “No, no. These are important, and I wanted to personally ensure you got them.”
I shook my head. “Right, because Brigitte would have lost them,” I said, giving him a look. My father would have been adrift without her. She organized everything—private and professional meetings, all his correspondence. Sometimes I wondered whether she also cooked for him and did his laundry. Brigitte was more than a secretary. She was his veritable girl Friday. She would never lose any documents.
“Well, this binder was supposed to get to you earlier. But that’s not important now. What is important is I’m giving you your own project.”
I jumped from my chair with such enthusiasm that it almost toppled over.
“Really?” I asked. I had been working in my father’s architecture firm as junior officer for six months, but so far, he hadn’t let me oversee any projects. All I did was administrative work, the same as I had been doing for him since I was in college. I was nothing more than a second secretary.
“Take it easy, son. Familiarize yourself with these papers, then come to my office so we can discuss the details,” he said.
“Yessss!” I pumped a fist in the air after he’d closed the door behind him. I had been working toward this moment. Finally, I had a chance to prove myself.
I opened the binder and studied every page, then leafed through it again, more quickly. I hesitated and scrutinized the notes again. He couldn’t be serious. Was this
Similar Books
