And it’s my own shrieking wails that tear me out of sleep, back into the real world. I’m back in my Berkeley apartment, my face wet with tears. I sit bolt upright in my lonely little bed, throwing my arms around my knees and weeping with abandon. Damn it—I honestly thought that I was over these nightmares. Isn’t four years long enough to be terrorized by these demons every time I close my eyes?
I cradle my head in my hands, willing those images to flee from my mind. The craziest thing is, I wasn’t even there the night my family died. Never saw my sister, lifeless in her bed. I was away at UCONN, probably slaving over some stupid paper. But imagining what it must have been like is enough to haunt my dreams. And every time I dream of them like that, all I can think is that I should have been there with them.
I should have been there with them.
I manage to pull myself out of bed, shaking off the nightmare as I have countless times before. After all these years, I’ve learned how to live with my grief. The only thing to do is wake up each morning and keep on living. If not for me, then for the family I lost.
CHAPTER FOUR
Before I know it, two days have passed. Time has been working strangely in my life, lately. The minutes crawl by, but the days themselves fly. I check my email inbox like a woman possessed, waiting for some word from my Craigslist venture capitalist. That strange ad set off a flare of hope inside of me, but it’s fading away with every hour that goes by. After two days, it’s all but extinguished. I should have known better than to get my hopes up. When has anything ever worked out for me, after all?
I’m mired in another round of intense studying early Tuesday morning. Kelly and I wasted our weekend nights partying once again, and I’m feeling the pressure to catch up on all of my work. Coffee in one hand, notes in the other, I lose myself to theories and facts, burrowing away from the real world once again.
By midday, I’m in desperate need of a break. I close my textbooks, rub my eyes, and gather my long hair into a messy bun at the nape of my neck. I flop down on by bed and pull my laptop toward me. I’m just about to open up my Facebook tab when I spot a new email waiting in my inbox. After two days of furious email-checking, I’ve pretty much given up hope of hearing from my mystery employer. But I can’t help but check at once, just in case. I pull up my inbox and try to be nonchalant as I open up the new message. It’s from an address I’ve never seen before, and the subject line reads,
Re: Ambitious Beauty
“Holy shit...” I whisper, scrambling onto my knees, “Holy shit, this is it!”
I pore over the rest of the message as if my life depends on it. Because hey, for all I know, it just might.
Dear Kassenia,
Thank you for showing such an eager interest in my internship. I’d like to apologize for my late response. I’ve been rather inundated with applications on top of my usual business obligations. But your response to my ad jumped off the page, and I wanted to take the time to get back to you as soon as I could.
Now that we’re officially corresponding, I can tell you that my name is Declan Tiberi.
“Declan Tiberi?” I mutter, tasting his name on my lips. “Nice name, guy.”
I quickly open a new tab and punch “Declan Tiberi” into the search engine. At once, my screen is flooded with web results—articles, interviews, and so many pictures. This is not some cloistered, pimply tech geek I’m dealing with, after all.
“Good goddamn,” I whistle, scrolling through page after page of images. The man featured in each and every shot is absolutely smoking.
He’s a towering tank of a man, way over six feet tall and two hundred pounds, if I had to guess. His tan skin stretches like silk over sculpted muscles, each one cut to perfection. His chestnut brown hair hangs in loose curls—just long enough to be sexy and shaggy. Tattoos are scrawled all over his body, some of the biker variety, others that look more militaristic. But his eyes are what really knocks the wind out of me. They’re a crystal clear, utterly penetrating shade of blue. Oddly enough, they rather match my own.
In every photo, Declan is either dressed in an impeccably cut suit or professional boxing attire. I do double-take after double-take, making sure that it’s the same man in each set of images. I must have missed the part of Career Day dedicated to being a business-tycoon-slash-bruiser. Who is this half-venture capitalist, half-professional athlete? And what in the world is he doing posting fantasy internships on Craigslist? More intrigued than ever, I turn my eyes back to his email.
I live and work in Las Vegas, Nevada. Primarily, I am a venture capitalist and entrepreneur. I have various other hobbies and interests that will no doubt surface when you search for me online.
“It’s like you’re reading my mind, Mr. Tiberi,” I smile.
To cut to the chase, Kassenia, I think that your business idea is very intriguing and has a lot of potential. I would love to set up an interview with you in the coming days. You could very well be the right person for this job, but I have to meet with you in person to be sure. I would like it very much should you turn out to be my next investment.
Interesting that he says “you” and not “your startup” when referring to his next investment. Surely, that was just a slip of the keyboard.
I’m sure that you’d prefer to meet in a public place, since we are, as yet, strangers. I can travel to the location of your choosing. Starbucks, etc. is fine. Just tell me where I can meet you, and what date/time is best.
Looking forward,
Declan.
I stare at my computer screen, mouth hanging wide open. My eyes shift frantically between Declan’s email, the photos of him as a dashing business man, and the images of him in full boxing gear. My head is spinning as I try to pin this guy down. What the hell gives? There are so many facets to this person, none of which add up. I read article after article about him, hoping to gain some insight. Nothing wrong with doing a little research, is there?
By all accounts, he is who he claims to be in his email. At least, according to my mainstream online sources. A couple of online profiles go into his career as a venture capitalist, mentioning that he first arrived in Las Vegas to pursue a career as a professional boxer. Once he started making good money from his fighting career, I guess he started investing it wisely in tech startups, just as Silicone Valley was becoming a “thing”. It seems that he served some time in the military, serving overseas in Iraq and Afghanistan in the Navy. More specific information about his time in the armed forces is nowhere to be found. So my mystery employer is a rich, sexy, successful business man/athlete/soldier?