The Food cooking on the stoves made delicious, comforting music fill the air. It was a lullaby of wonderful moments, happy reunions, and friendship. As liquid bubbled in the pans, and Olaf's knife hit the cutting board, the three friends said nothing as sous chefs and servers worked on the details for the banquet party.
At last, Yvonne shook her head with disapproval and broke the silence, reprimanding, "If you have this feeling, you shouldn't be here, Olaf."
He waved her off. "The Knaasts are no threat to me or mine, but I see you happy and in love then I flap my lips. It's a warning and advice I would give my children. In your places, I would find somewhere else to work."
Vladyk tilted his head. "Why?"
Olaf lifted both hands and scrunched his long nose as he scratched his half-bald head. His gruff voice rasped. "I can work for them because I am ugly and my family is ugly too. It makes us safe. But you two are exquisite."
The old man sounded frustrated, and Yvonne chuckled. Her demeanor changed, and she said with affection, "You must be kidding. You mean we are at risk because of how we look?"
The Norwegian resumed his chopping.
"Laugh all you want, but you have the profile for trouble. If it is by fortune, fate, destiny I have no idea. Whatever you call it is good, but nasty things happen to attractive people when they meet with the Knaasts."
Olaf's attitude was no joke. His eyes showed courage mixed with fear. He felt what he declared, and he believed he risked his safety for the couple.
Vladyk tightened his arms around his lover, feeling a strange tightness in his chest. He felt that Mr. Bjorg Knaast carried an aura of danger around him. Now he knew someone else had the same feeling. It was disturbing.
He pursed his lips as silence fell again in their small group. Then, the chef broke it, checking the time.
"Let's start this celebration because there's no dinner party without food."
Yvonne nodded but sent her boyfriend a disturbed look. Olaf's worry seemed palpable and true and it shook her.
Vladyk kissed her lips for comfort, whispering in her ear.
"Go, my love. Do your job and wait downstairs for Mr. Knaast. I am going for the Falcones. I am calling as soon as I have them in the car."
Yvonne nodded and left the kitchen, going to the lobby to wait for Bjorg Knaast.
In his bedroom, the Knaast warlock examined himself in a tall mirror, and saw a man in his late thirties, wearing an Italian suit and handmade shoes. The silver-grey silk matched his ice-blue eyes and brilliant blond hair as the black shirt and clear blue tie completed the outfit.
Bjorg Knaast's muscled body was a testimony to his witchcraft because no one over sixty would look that young and strong.
He relished the soft touch of the thick rugs under his feet and when he opened the door, the gold handle made him grin. On his way down, he caressed the carved handrail, wishing he had his hands on Yvonne instead. Unaware of his thoughts, Yvonne smiled at him.
"Good evening, Monsieur Knaast."
Bjorg raked her sylphlike figure with hungry, predatory eyes and greeted the woman with a mischievous smile. "Good evening duchess."
The fair skin of her porcelain face pinked. "Don't call me that, please, sir. It is in the past."
"Don't fool yourself, Yvonne. You are a duchess through and through."
Her soft lyrical laugh echoed in the immense entrance hall. "No, Mister Knaast. I am a governess and a former teacher. Truth is my country was never kind to nobility."
"Maybe." Bjorg agreed but smirked, thinking, "Her country is not guilty of her poor financial state. I am," and the memories turned the Knaast priest's glacial blue orbs into liquid pools of deviltry. Enjoying the recollection of his hideous victory, he reached downstairs and took her hand.
Confusion opened her soft, plump lips, and Yvonne's delicate chin trembled as Bjorg bent and lay his warm lips on her fingers. She watched his beautiful head cover her hand and used all her inner strength to stay in place.
Apart from their first handshake when he introduced himself three years ago, it was the first time they touched and it was not a pleasure. Although warm, his touch reminded her of a snake, and it was coiling to attack.
Olaf's warning reverberated in her mind. She wished she could stop the weird, unwelcome exchange and run away from the man and everything of his, but sudden fear and trepidation held her immobilized.
"Thank you for the beauty and grace you bring to my life," he murmured against her knuckles.
When he straightened his back and stared, Yvonne, trusted her upbringing to be a shield against her boss's unwanted advance. It worked because she did not stutter to respond, "We did our best for this dinner party. I speak in the name of all the servers who worked to make it a success. I assumed you wanted it perfect for your daughter's fiance's family."
Bjorg tilted his head. Lust smoldered in his eyes. "I don't care for the other servers or the Falcones. I expect you to look your best for me alone. I don't like when anyone else peruses your body."
She blinked, making her long lashes curtain the growing surprise in her emerald green orbs.
He smirked, allowing his fiery desire clear in his face. Then deciding it was time to grab his prize, he told himself, "Let's give her something to think. My warlocks went to great lengths to cause her family's financial failure. The entire trouble must pay off. She will be my slave, and I will enjoy it very much."
His decision breathed threat on her face and the woman felt that like a knife through her heart. She was hypnotized by the ice blue pools, drowning in centuries of malice, wickedness, and merciless pillage. That moment she knew what a bird felt under a cat's paws.
Not even her expensive clothes were protection against that assault. She felt bare under his scrutiny, as on display as a piece of meat in a butcher shop. Yvonne wore a Parisian silk dress whose bronze fabric shimmered with waves of gold under the lobby's gleaming lights. It was a number from a prized French house and reached above her knees, going up on her shapely body to stretch with perfection over her C-cup breasts.
Her tiny waist looked even thinner and her elegant calves were accentuated by six-inch cognac-colored pumps.
She wished she was wearing a burlap sack instead because the revealing piece of clothing made her feel naked beneath the Knaast Priest's blatant, nasty desire.
Her hand went to her neck, trying to ease the choking feeling, and found the diamond choker that called the eyes to her long slender neck.
Bjorg perused her from head to toes and licked his lips. "You look ravishing, Yvonne."
Her black hair shimmered under the pink crystal chandelier when she nodded to thank him for the compliment, unable to utter a single word.
Bjorg felt like laughing. She was so easy. "Have our guests arrived yet?"
"The Rolls Royce left for them over forty minutes ago. Vladyk called to say he's on his way with Mister Falcone, but his parents are not with them."
He sounded surprised. "Is Victor Falcone coming by himself?"
"I think so, Mister Knaast. He said he will explain in person."
"Fair enough. Serve me some scotch, please, Yvonne," he ordered, walking to his office.
Yvonne lifted a trembling hand to her forehead watching her boss walk away. She wished her father was alive. He would know how to face a predator of that caliber. Her eyes bright and swimming, she walked after him into his studio to pour his scotch.
Yvonne could never imagine that the fundraising the Knaast priest, she and her father attended eight years ago caused her family's destruction.
She was 17 at the time, and Bjorg was among the old men she did not notice as she negotiated her way through the wealthy crowd, walking arm in arm with her father. They sat at their reserved table and the duke bought some pieces to help children in Africa.
She was a blooming beauty, and too naive to notice the wolf who watched her with hungry ice-blue eyes.
The devilish creature hid under an Italian suit and polite demeanor.
Bjorg always had what he desired and the innocent girl stirred up his dark appetites. So he launched the scheme to destroy her unsuspecting family using shell companies created for that purpose. He initiated the financial massacre as she entered college.
When Yvonne graduated, she was the witness to the end of everything she held dear. Her father's decisions, moved by ill advice, bankrupted them. Her house was stripped of anything valuable before going to the market to pay creditors.
The French duke killed himself the same week he received the bank notice and did not see when his daughter was left on the streets with almost nothing. Only her private account survived the financial hunger of creditors, tax laws, and lawyers.
Yvonne's degree in Social politics and philosophy from Sorbonne saved her from starvation when her rich friends pretended she did not exist. The ruined orphaned duchess became a teacher as the Knaast's shell companies took up what the woman would have inherited.
Bjorg Knaast held off two years before sending a lawyer to offer her the position in his household. The salary was ten times higher than her income and the only prerequisite was she moved to England to live with the Knaasts.
Yvonne saw it as a lucky hand from destiny once she had nothing left in her home country. She had no idea how wrong she was.
When she arrived on British soil, a nasty fate waited for her. Bjorg Knaast wanted her as a slave for his witchcraft and a high-class prostitute to gain leverage in international business.
The devil of a man gave her millionaire gifts - the diamond choker with the pairing ring and earrings, and a white gold Rolex. He also required her to buy and wear prized clothes from famous European houses and told her he would pay the bills.
When she refused to accept the weird arrangement he explained. "My guests must see my governess's dresses cost more than they can afford. Look at the clothing as pricey uniform."
She was naïve and agreed with the lame excuse that the expensive things were her uniform, not gifts. That naivety made taking her to bed an impossible task for the evil man.
Although ruined and as poor as a church mouse, Duchess Yvonne was an honest woman, inadvertently gathering the Allegiant around her as a shield. As a result, she received the Creator's warriors' protection and managed to be unmovable, and never give in to the Knaast black magic. So Bjorg Knaast never got what he worked with such stealth to obtain.
It was infuriating. He spent his money with a woman he could not bend and that failure he could not accept. Meanwhile, the evil man enjoyed having her as a servant and loved telling his guests his governess was a duchess. Her humiliation reimbursed him for his money and effort to get a woman he could not use.
So he bid his time and watched her like a hawk, waiting for the right opportunity. He needed to do it right so the Father's angels would watch without interfering just like the general liked.
Tonight he showed her a bit of who he was and he was sure she would try to run, that was what he needed to show his cards. She would come to him of her free will otherwise losing her money house and friends would be nothing compared to what he could make happen.
Yvonne was about to know what meant to be a target of the Knaast Priest.