The Penthouse Treasure - James Gerard (self help books to read .TXT) 📗

could be found in the penthouse apartment.

 

An express elevator to the penthouse suite launched itself quickly. In a matter of seconds images of the sadistic man appeared in the mind and tempted her to dare strike out, but even in imagination patience won over.

 

The elevator shook as it decelerated. The jolt of the sudden stop popped her eyes open. Like a lioness smelling the scent of an innocent animal Charisse stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the door that concealed her father. She was motionless at first but began to fidget as confusion set in. Many doors were seen, and when looking behind she soon realized she was in a long hallway with lots of doors to either side. “This isn’t the penthouse apartment.” She was positive that security had led her to the right elevator.  After all, she thought, there was only one button to press.

 

Not knowing what to do she thought about calling her friend to ask what had gone wrong, but then realized her friend in no way would lead her astray. Charisse decided to look back to the right and began to tiptoe towards flickering lights coming through the narrow slits of glass panes within a door at the end of the hallway.

 

Once again nervous jitters overtook the body. Knocking echoed in the hallway.

 

A few seconds passed then the door opened. “Well hello,” was the simple greeting, “it’s about time you showed up.”

 

Charisse opened her mouth to speak but not a sound came out. She pondered what exactly what was meant by “it’s about time you showed up.” Does he recognize me? Does he know I’m his daughter?

 

“I understand,” the man laughed. “It’s your first big assignment and you’re excited. But the room for the shoot is at the other end of the hall young lady.”

 

Charisse chuckled and turned to look down the hall. “Oh, that’s it—you think I’m a model. Whew! You had me worried for a second.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Just thinking out loud,” she said with a giggle. She looked at the rosy smile of the man and in an instant knew it to be her father from the photographs her friend had attained off a website. “I’m looking for Mr. Connelly?”

 

“Do you mean Mr. O’Brien?”

 

Playing coy she responded, “Are you Mr. Connelly or not?” Suspicion hiding behind her polite smile detected the arrogance in his face, saw the scumbag who only thought was the sexual conquest of each and every women he came into contact with. She suddenly looked at him sternly and barked, “What are you smiling at?”

 

“Again young lady, the shoot is down there.”

 

Charisse took a step back and spread out her arms. “For god’s sake I’m wearing a plain gray pantsuit, professional yet sensible shoes, no makeup, my hair tied up so tight in a bun I can barely blink and you think I’m a model—I’m not a model.”

 

“Really? You’re not a model?”

 

“No! I’m your new personal assistant.”

 

“Assistant? Huh, I didn’t realize David had hired someone already.”

 

“What? You don’t believe me? What, you think I’m lying to you just so I can meet the great you and have you seduce me and when you’re finished toss me out like the thousands of women you have done before.”

 

“No,” Connelly chuckled, “it’s just that David hasn’t called yet to tell me is what I’m saying. And what is with the hostility. If you ask me you’re not making a good impression so far.”

 

“I apologize Mister O’Brien.” Charisse calmly added, “I’m just letting it be known right now if you have any intentions on…on…anything other than a professional relationship then get it out of your head right now because that will not happen—do you understand?”

 

“Of course; strictly business. Now, my I ask you your name?”

 

“My name is Brandy Gillen.”

 

“Then Brandy please come in.”

 

As Charisse entered the room the stunning glimpse of the cityscape from the apartment’s balcony came into focus and began to have a calming effect. She knew the rise of angry emotions could not be allowed if the plan were to be achieved. Quickly the icy rage melted away as thoughts of the heated plan settled upon the mind. She quietly reaffirmed that patience was important. Besides that, the need for a calm and subservient attitude was a must.

 

Connelly drew the curtains fully open and she simply gasped at the sight of sunlight glinting off the faces of the many glassy surfaces of the buildings below, the surface of the river snaking its way through the congested landscape. She turned to see that the light had exposed the room as a soft and cozy setting where worries could just melt away. Oddly, Charisse found the bright and tranquil setting contrary to the dark and disturbing creature it hosted.

 

“So, I assume David told you about what you will be responsible for as my personal assistant?”

 

“No Mr. O’Brien. He left that to you.”

 

As Connelly went over the details of the job Charisse became disturbingly mesmerized by his soft and shaky voice, his very presence. In a way she was baffled by the idea that in the real world it was more common than not for a child to have an intimate knowledge of both parents, yet she had only known him by stories from Aunt Anna and the occasional psychotic tirades from her mother—but those were few and far in between.   And here I am, she thought, and there he is; together, a real, live creature that is my dad and I don’t even know him and he doesn’t know me.

 

As Connelly continued Charisse allowed the wrath that slowly crept in to subside in order to see deep into his eyes.   At first she saw the thinning salt and peppered hair and old and tired eyes but then imagined his once black hair and vibrant blue eyes that coaxed the fragile and beautiful woman that was her mother into marrying and through the sense of love, as false as it was, impregnate her. But then she saw something else. The man before her seemed kind and sensitive, patient and considerate, the complete opposite of the man she had been told about. But then she remembered her friend’s warning: “Don’t be fooled—just remember what he did to you and your mother.” The wrath quickly returned. The crafty monster was in plain sight.

 

“So here you go,” said Connelly. “You need to enter a personal password for access.”

 

Charisse took hold of the computer. “Consider it done Mr. O’Brien.”

 

“I want you to take the time to study whatever information is on there since Claudia, that was my former assistant, used it to do all the things that was required of her.”

 

“Consider it done Mr. O’Brien.”

 

Connelly smiled. “Now, let me give you a tour of the apartment.”

 

“I warned you Mr. O’Brien!”

 

“Nononono Brandy, you need to know where my office is.” Connelly shook his head, “Geez, are you always so uptight about everything. Relax, this is just a job.”

 

Charisse stood up and followed Connelly down the apartment’s hallway making sure to stay a relatively safe distance behind. While the office and personal studio were of some interest she realized what she was holding in her hands was the instrument by which vengeance would be accomplished. Her friend had said to find anything that could be used against him, and the computer certainly met that criteria.

 

“And as far as this room goes, no one has access to it.” Connelly pointed to his chest and stated, “Right here is the key to that room. It’s attached to a titanium chain that I wear securely around my neck. Except when I shower, it is never off my person; I guard it with my life.”

 

“Why?”

 

“There are many valuable things in there.”

 

“A treasure?”

 

“Sure, it could be called a treasure but it is missing one piece to make it complete.” Connelly smiled. “Maybe someday if you decide to hang around long enough you may even see what’s behind those doors one of these days.”

 

“Are you talking about paintings or maybe photographs?”

 

“Oh much more than that Brandy; like I said hang around long enough and someday you just might see.”

 

Charisse’s heart fluttered as imaginations of such riches filled the thoughts.

 

“Do you understand Brandy?”

 

“What exactly—”

 

“Don’t you worry about what is behind there just know this room is absolutely off-limits.”

 

“Of course Mr. O’Brien.”

 

As they continued down the hallway Charisse snickered at the very thought of whatever secret treasure Connelly was hiding made accessing the room an absolute necessity.   She vividly remembered her friend saying to be on the lookout for anything that he might be overly protective of. Whatever was in the room, she believed, could be additional ammunition to inflict the pain she so desired.

 

“And here—”

 

“What the hell?” Charisse uttered as she stared at a naked woman.

 

“Oh…sorry…didn’t know you had company Connelly.”

 

“Will you please put on some clothes,” demanded Charisse.

 

“Oh come on sweetie,” responded the woman, “as many shows you must’ve done you’re not telling me you never looked at any naked models in the changing rooms?”

 

“I’m not a model. Tell her Connelly.”

 

“Cheryl, just throw on a robe.”

 

“Of course darling. I didn’t realize you were back.”

 

“How dare you!” Charisse shouted. “Is that how you treat your…” she eyed Connelly’s left hand and noticed the ring, “…you demand her to walk around naked? I swear, if—”

 

“Oh please Brandy; enough. Cheryl’s not my wife, she’s not my girlfriend, and she’s not my lover. She’s just an ex-model.”

 

“Oh I see,” Charisse grumbled. “Just another woman to use before you get tired of her and dump her.”

 

“No,” Connelly answered. “She is my friend. That’s all. And besides, it’s not like she walks around nude all the time. She just didn’t know I or you were here.”

 

“Right!” fumed Charisse. “I am—”

 

“I’m sorry dear if I offended you,” spoke up Cheryl while walking back into the hallway. “Just an innocent mistake.”

 

“Are you okay now?” asked Connelly

 

“I suppose,” answered Charisse.

 

“Then good. Cheryl will you please be a dear and show Brandy to her apartment. I have some work to do.”

The Friend of a Thief

 Charrise instantly dismissed the same stunning view of the world outside as she followed Cheryl into the apartment. A look around spotted the sensible yet dusty furniture, the lack of any cute knick knacks to give the room any sort of personality, the lifeless space void of potted plants or vases stuffed with vibrant flowers or succulent plant, anything that might have given the stuffy room any touch of personal warmth.

 

“Did his last personal assistant live here?” shouted Charisse.

 

“What was that?” Cheryl shouted back.”

 

Charisse casually walked down the hallway looking through the open doors of rooms that were void of any furnishings. Finally she came to a room and took notice of a lamp sitting atop a dusty desk. After setting the laptop on top of the desk she looked around at the bare walls, the lack of any natural light and thought what a depressing room.

 

She looked to Cheryl leaning against a door frame of a room ahead, “When did his last assistant leave?”

 

“Umm, I…I can’t remember. I think a month or so ago. Why?”

 

“Well…nothing. Just forget it.”

 

Cheryl walked further up the hall and turned, “Can we get this over with; I have things to do.”

 

“So what exactly is your relationship with Connelly?” asked Charisse as she trailed Cheryl.

 

Cheryl turned around and remarked, “Excuse me?”

 

“Are you