NEVER A SUNSET

By

Annalee Blysse

© copyright July 2005, Annalee Blysse

Cover art by Amber Moon, © copyright July 2005

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

The haze of twilight lit the clouds. The rain had just stopped, so the air was heavy with moisture. Victrina took a deep breath as she stepped out of her apartment, thinking how much she’d miss this place when she left.

The truth was, Victrina loved all seasons in Boston, simply because they existed. The city was wrapped up in a long, drawn out spring that made an impression. A far cry from Barrow, Alaska. On the northern tundra, spring passed in the blink of an eye and summer dragged on for months on end. Where she’d grown up, the environment wasn’t conducive to going for a walk any time of year. Boston was almost always perfect.

Noting the quiet streets, she smiled as she started walking. Then again, most Bostonians hadn’t grown up on the North Slope. What was perfect to her was considered a miserable day down here.

New York City wouldn’t be that different. Hopefully. In less than one month, she’d be moving. She’d already accepted a job offer on Wall Street and she was in for years of hard work. But she wanted to prove that a girl from the village could make good. More than that, she wanted to prove to her father that her scholarship to Harvard had been well deserved and not just money thrown at an Eskimo so they could make their quotas. She wanted to earn insane amounts of money and show him what she was really made of.

If asked, she told people why she wanted to live so differently from her life back home. A town that small couldn’t keep her happy. There was no way she was ever going to settle down and become a brood mare for a man who didn’t respect her, who didn’t think she was good enough, who didn’t feel her goals and accomplishments amounted to anything. What she kept private was the violence that had been part of her childhood home. She didn’t want anyone to pity her.

She heard boots clicking on the cement behind her, heard distinct splashes through puddles that she’d avoided. Victrina turned, her eyes met with a tall man dressed all in black.

He nodded slightly, “Victrina Mechnikoff?”

Confused that he knew her name, Victrina confronted him, “What do you want?”

He grinned at her. His long hair was as dark as hers, and it shone beneath the streetlights. “You,” he said, his voice low and husky and very seductive.

His black shirt hugged his chest, outlining sculpted muscles and sharply delineated abs. His jeans were fresh-from-the-rack black, and molded to his incredible legs and cock.

Electric blue eyes captured her senses, digging into her soul. Any anger she felt was replaced by a desire that consumed her body and mind. Her mouth watered and moisture pooled between her thighs. Her senses rang with excitement over the unknown. His clothes. His hair. The whole effect was very sexual, yet very dark. Foreboding.

And you can have me. But fear made her hesitate.

He waved his hand at a coffee shop on a nearby corner. “Can I buy you an espresso?”

Victrina was immediately relieved. Her body might be crying out for him to take her to the nearest hotel and make good on the sensual promise in his eyes, in his voice. She might want him to make love to him all night. But, the offer of an espresso was much easier to deal with.

She took him up on his offer and was soon seated across from him, sipping hot mocha, thinking ... who are you?

“Michael Levine,” he said, staring deeply into her, as if he could see right through her.

“Pleased to meet you,” she replied.

She couldn’t understand the hold he had over her senses. She was as progressive as the next woman, but she’d never fantasized about jumping into the sack with a complete stranger. And she was having a difficult time keeping her mind off anything but sex around this man.

“I know,” he said, angling his head slightly, licking his lower lip.

Victrina couldn’t take her eyes off his face. His response was honest more than arrogant. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. Her whole body vibrated with the sensuality of the moment. Michael’s facial features were strong, yet as photogenically perfect as James Dean. You are the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

“How do you know who I am?” she asked. “We haven’t met before.”

“I keep my eyes open. You have a promising career ahead of you.” He waited for a moment, and when she didn’t respond he continued, “I am looking for someone with your ... abilities. I’m here to offer you a position working for me.”

Strange. The way he said “abilities” made it seem as if he alluded to something other than the fact that she was one of the top students in her class. Yet he had slightly toned down his flirting. Employers had been recruiting around the campus, so it was conceivable that he was really going to offer a position working for a company. A damn shame. She was still thinking of positions in the Kama Sutra.

“Work for you? Doing what?”

“I need a personal assistant.”

Victrina thought for a moment. “In what capacity?”

“In every capacity. I won’t sugarcoat the fact that I can be very demanding. I’d even expect you to check the mail, get the morning paper up off the lawn after it’s rained. It irritates me when my paper is too moist to read.”

Victrina almost laughed at him. Her goal in life was not to be a glorified errand girl. In fact that was why she’d gone to college to get her MBA. The last thing she wanted to do was end up spending her days at a man’s beck and call. “I have already accepted employment, Mr. Levine. Your offer is too late.”

“Call me Michael, please,” he insisted. “And don’t worry too much. I have a house full of servants that would do the most tedious errands. You’d supervise them, after all. Though I would have to warn you ahead of time that my butler hates waking up and getting the paper. He’s like me ... a night owl.”

That was strange--he’d addressed her concerns, without her having voiced them. But then again. That was a no-brainer. He’d probably assumed that a woman with an MBA wouldn’t want to fetch his morning paper.

“I want to give a clear picture of what I’d expect of you as my personal assistant. However, I think the part of the job you’ll be interested in is that I want you to be my financial advisor.”

Victrina was suddenly intrigued. “What kind of business are you in?”

“Several, actually. They are outlined in the contract. If I were not available, you would have authority in my stead. However, I’ve got very loyal employees who’ve been working for me for quite some time. They don’t need much by way of supervision. The main focus of your position will be investing the venture capital from my holdings in ways that will ensure my wealth works for me far into the future.”

After Michael finished describing what he expected, he gave her time to read the contract he had drafted beforehand. She would be given free rein over designated accounts. Her salary would be very lucrative, and the most enticing section indicated that she would receive a healthy bonus based on her level of success with his assets. The better he did, the better she did.

Additionally, there would be no living expenses for the next five years. As his personal assistant it was expected that she’d live in the personnel quarters provided on his property outside New Orleans. As attracted as she was to Michael Levine, getting to know him better wouldn’t be a problem. She was unattached, willing and wanting to experience life, and unwilling to be tied down. Come to think of it, getting to know him personally interested her as much as the job offer.

Her name was already typed on the document. All it needed was her signature. Victrina looked up at him, surprised. She couldn’t blame him for taking for granted she’d sign on. The opportunity was more than she’d hoped for, considering she wanted to be a multimillionaire before she turned thirty.

“Before you sign, remember that I require absolute loyalty and discretion on all matters, business and personal.” The tone of his voice carried a hint of warning. “There will be no getting out of this contract once you agree. Even if the Inquisition was reinstated and I was sentenced to death for being Satan’s spawn, I’d continue to demand your loyalty.”

Victrina chuckled.

“I’m not joking. I am--”

“I get it. You’re demanding. And that won’t be a problem.” She could deal with a boss who expected a lot from her, and so long as he was honest, she could be loyal. And discretion she was used to. It was one reason she hadn’t responded to his flirtatious opening lines.

He gazed at her, an ominous look in his eyes. “I hope that remains the case. My business pursuits are entirely legal, but I require a ‘blood oath’.”

“Blood oath?” she asked, thinking back on a mobster movie she’d sat through in a darkened movie theater. She set the contract down and shook her head. Having an employer that sounded insane gave her second thoughts. “Are you implying if I left my employment, you would have me killed?”

Locked in a harsh stare, images flashed through her mind. She saw a portly man in old-fashioned clothing of the European aristocracy. He spoke, in French, to a beautiful woman with long, flowing, burgundy hair. Despite her rudimentary comprehension of the language, Victrina got the gist of the conversation. The man shared the location of his “master”, and was excited at the prospect of the financial reward promised for revealing his secrets.

The reward turned out to be his death. The woman latched onto his neck, draining him of blood. The woman was a vampire. A shadowy man arrived, and the woman told him that the Frenchman’s master had murdered the man in her arms.

She couldn’t understand the hold Michael had over her thoughts either. Victrina knew she wasn’t remembering a movie she’d seen. Ridiculous as it sounded, it was almost as if Michael had shared the images with her. But, of course, that was impossible.

“I have taken very few lives over the years,” he told her.

Very few lives? What is he, a homicidal maniac? Or is he just insane? She frowned suspiciously at the nonchalant look on Michael Levine’s face.

“I protect the people who work for me. Leaving that protection is more dangerous than I am.” He smiled then. “Ah, you think I am insane? No?”

“No, not at all.”

He laughed loudly. “Never lie to me.”

“Well. ... This wasn’t exactly a subject of discussion when the Fortune 500 companies came to campus. Let’s just say, I find your statements odd.”

“And the opportunity isn’t the same as what other companies have offered you. It’s your choice. Until you sign. Think about it for a few days. Hire a private investigator to look into my business holdings. Have them look for skeletons in my closet,” Michael said, winking at her. “Which you won’t find because I’m not a homicidal maniac. I will reimburse you, either way. But I’m confident you’ll accept the position.”

Yeah, he looked confident all right.

Way too confident.

“Oh, and by the way,” he said, “I’m a vampire. That is a secret I insist you keep, even if you don’t accept the position.”

Victrina couldn’t help herself. She laughed.