The Penthouse Treasure by James Gerard (e books free to read .txt) 📖

his—”

 

“He told you I’m his friend,” Cheryl snapped. “Okay; get it? I’m his friend.”

 

“Really,” scoffed Charisse. “Hit a sore spot?”

 

Charisse did not have to hold contact with the furious eyes to feel the cold, hard heart of Cheryl’s glare set firmly on her. Whatever the source of Cheryl’s apparent anger she could not be sure. In an instant the thoughts of her best friend’s advice came to mind.   An opportunity was seen. The hostility must have been the end result of being thrown away by the man that was finished using her for his pleasure and satisfaction. Yes! Charisse triumphantly thought. The decision to go on with the heated exchange was made.

 

“You know, I’d be careful if I were you,” Cheryl warned.

 

Charisse smiled and coyly responded, “Hmm, Mr. O’Brien seems to keep a lot of clutter around. As his assistant I’ll just have to take out the trash.”

 

Cheryl snickered and shot back, “Oh really. A threat?”

 

“Not at all Ma’am; just pointing out the truth.”

 

“Ma’am!” Cheryl scoffed.

 

Charisse quickly dodged Cheryl as she came storming towards then past her. The sound of a door slamming proved yet another avenue of opportunity to come at her father. Although her best friend had no clue about Cheryl’s existence, Charisse now aware of her could see value.   Cheryl’s worth was seen as an opportunity to drive home the message that the hurt and pain he caused would be paid back in full and then some. And better, thought Charisse, she is a willing participant and equal partner in the disgusting and vile relationship with my father so I will have no pity. And while she suddenly felt the impulse to strangle her on the spot next time they were near one another, she could hear her friend’s advice ringing in the ears; you found the weakness now use it for all its worth—don’t blow it.  

 

Coming to the open door at the end of the hallway Charisse noticed the dusty nightstand next to an unassuming bed. Again, based on the meager and plain furnishings, the neglect of cleaning, she figured her father never used this apartment to toy around with the emotions of the weak and fragile women he used and abused. Just the thought of Connelly doing so to a lot of women in many locations was infuriating in itself. But what was more infuriating was the fact he had done so to his innocent wife.

 

“Right!” she whispered.  “Just a friend my—”

 

“Brandy?”

 

“What! I mean yes Mr. O’Brien.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“What? Did Cheryl tell you something?”

 

“No,” Connelly calmly answered, “you yelled out ‘what.’ Is something bothering you.”

 

Charisse breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “I apologize Mr. O’Brien. I suppose that I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. David didn’t tell me that this apartment would be provided me along with the generous salary.”

 

“I understand. So you are okay?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Good, I need you to get on that laptop and search out exactly when I’m supposed to be in Paris this year. The Spring fashion show is approaching and I think I need to be there early this year for some reason. Could you do that?”

 

“Of course Mr. O’Brien.”

 

Connelly reached out to her. “Here you go.”

 

“What’s this?”

 

“This is one of the perks of the job.” Connelly smiled wide, “It’s one of the magazine’s credit cards; no limit. Use it for whatever you need for the job or for that matter, for yourself.”

 

“I couldn’t Mr. O’Brien. I already receive an adequate salary for my needs.”

 

“Of course you can. The owners of the magazine are loaded with money. Don’t worry about it; I’m on excellent terms with them.”

 

“Well thank you Mr. O’Brien. I’ll use it wisely.”

 

Charisse grinned as Connelly walked away. My-my, she thought, let’s see what sort of damage I can cause with this.

The Plan of Attack

 Perched lazily in the comfy confines of a couch Charisse slept peacefully after a night of talking to her best friend on the phone. In an instant ringing broke the silence. With a gasp she sprang up and eyed the strange surroundings. Finally the source of the ring was located. On the armrest of the couch the cell phone Connelly had given her was ringing nonstop.   With eyes squinting she looked to see if it might be her friend calling about more information she had uncovered, but the number was not recognized. After ten more rings she decided to answer the call.    

 

“Hello,” she said in a puzzled tone.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Thoughts went spinning in the mind trying to identify the strange voice. And although it sounded somewhat familiar the stranger was not known. “I’m sorry. My boss just gave me this phone. Whoever it is your trying to contact is no longer here.”

 

“Good morning Brandy. This is your boss, Mr. O’Brien.”

 

“I’m sorry Mr. O’Brien. I didn’t know it was you.”

 

“No need to apologize. Now, did you find out when I’m supposed to be in Paris?”

 

“I have.”

 

“Good.   Come on over.   We need to handle some business.”

 

“I’ll be right there Sir.”

 

Charisse strolled into the bedroom and smiled. After a night of peering at all the information contained on the hard drive she believed it wise to change into a fresh set of clothes. A big smile appeared while thinking about how her best friend took such delight as she revealed the information. With lots of giggles and laughs they had discussed and dissected certain pieces of information and made changes in the vengeance plan.

 

Coming back to the living room she took hold of the notepad that contained carefully noted plans on moving forward in the vengeance scheme. As she peered over the notes the one craftily devised step that stood out, the one her best friend salivated over the most was the one concerning the method by which Connelly gathered, stored, and then transmitted photographs from the fashion shows he attended. In fact, Charisse had noticed and related to her friend that it looked as if every photograph ever taken was stored on the hard drive.

 

In a matter of minutes of revealing the mass storage of photos the redefining of the plan for vengeance just about rewrote itself.   By reason, the photos dating back thirty years ago had been scanned then downloaded in digital form. The newer ones, they believed, were probably taken by a digital camera and downloaded directly to the computer. And for the newer ones it was evident that come time they were sent directly from the hard drive to the magazine for immediate publishing. She and her friend had discussed when it came that time, a responsibility left for her, then substitute photos would be sent instead therefore ruining his reputation.

 

Walking back into the bedroom a grin broke out at the discovery of a list of well-established and influential people of the fashion world, a source by which false rumors and lies could be spread to further hurt his credibility and reputation. But curiously enough, it was also discovered that there were a number a days, sometimes stretching into weeks, of unaccounted time. These periods were indicated by “away on business” notations left by the former assistant. To Charisse, it was obvious that her father was living a secret lifestyle in which he undoubtedly satisfied his lust and taste for cruelty.

 

Walking back into the living room Charisse grabbed the laptop and walked down the hall. Just before opening the door that separated the apartments she stopped and collected her thoughts. A reminder from her best friend to remain poised when talking with him became clear. “And poised I will be,” she whispered.

 

“Did you find out when to make air and hotel reservations for me in Paris,” erupted Connelly as she entered the apartment.

 

“I did. Based on past records you always go three days before the event,” responded Charisse. “I have the dates right here. I can make reservations for you on January seventh.”

 

“Good job Brandy. I knew I could trust in you. Then make the reservations when you can.”

 

“Consider it done Mr. O’Brien. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

 

“No…wait, come to think about it there is. This may sound sort of strange but I left something very important and very, very personal to me in Paris last year. I must have it before I get there this year. Would you be a dear and go and pick it and bring it back.”

 

“But a few weeks from now—”

 

“I know Charisse, but I am telling you this is very, very important to me.”

 

“But to fly all the way to Paris? Do you know how much that will cost?”

 

“You have the credit card Brandy; don’t worry about the expense. Now, I don’t care how long it takes to…in fact, why don’t you reserve a hotel room for a couple of weeks just in case you hit a snag along the way. You’ll find the info for the hotel we use on the computer. Besides, consider the trip a Christmas present.”

 

“We use?”

 

“Yes Charisse. That is when you go with me as my assistant there will be a room for you and a room for me.”

 

Charisse fought off the urge to blurt out a few rude and sarcastic remarks while she brought up the hotel and airline reservations page. She wanted so bad to confront Connelly with his true intentions of such so-called hotel arrangements and why Connelly wanted her with him in Paris, but again remembering the advice of her friend the anger was squashed. “Okay done Mr. O’Brien. Looks like I’m off to Paris. Anything else before I go?”

 

“Yeah, while you’re there take the time to check out some of the designers. You’ll find—”

 

Charisse constrained the giggles that were about to bust out and calmly said, “I already found the names and addresses and phone numbers.”

 

“Well good.   As my assistant you’ll be working rather closely with most of them so let them know who you are.”

 

“Yes Mr. O’Brien, I will do just that. Will there be anything else?”

 

“Actually there is. Have some fun while you’re there; it seems you take life a bit too serious.”

 

“What are you applying?” she snapped.

 

“Come on Brandy, will you ease up a bit. I’m actually not that bad of a person once you get to know me.”

 

Charisse snorted out a laugh. She remembered all the times boys and men had unsuccessfully used that line in trying to manage some intimate time. Worse, she considered if he only knew that the line was being used against his own daughter; heaven forbid he be that vile and evil.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“I’m sorry Mr. O’Brien. I…I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was studying the info. I guess I’m just tired and a bit giddy.”

 

“Well good job young lady. You did well. Now get on that assignment right away.”

 

“Will do sir.”

 

After Charisse was safe and secure in her apartment, she could not wait to give her best friend a call. The opportunity to implement part of the vengeance plan by spreading falsities to those who respected Connelly was at near at hand.