Forbidden Passion Introduction

 

Ciara’s story…

She sat very still, not looking to the right or the left.  Ciara’s pinky finger twitched, but that was the only movement. At seven years old, she knew better than to show any shift during the adult speeches. 

“And in conclusion, if we lower the salaries of this group of employees, then we will recover a six point three percent increase in our stock prices.” 

Ciara didn’t understand stock prices, but she suspected that lowering the salaries for employees was a bad thing.  She remembered hearing her big brother, Ramit, talk about some bad corporations doing that and it didn’t turn out well for anyone except…didn’t the owner get a lot of money?  She couldn’t remember and just thinking about it made her eye lashes flutter slightly. 

“Stop moving!” her nanny muttered, the woman’s lips barely moving as she sat beside Ciara. 

Silently, Ciara sighed.  The cushioned chair had been soft an hour ago.  But after pretending to listen to all of these people argue about issues that Ciara didn’t understand, the chair was becoming very uncomfortable.  She wanted to find her room so that she could do something, anything, other than sit here and endure more speeches, but she knew that she’d get in big trouble if she shifted even an inch.  Her nanny was very determined to present the “perfect princess” tonight.  The consequences of failing were too dire to contemplate.  So instead of shifting her bottom into a more comfortable place on the chair or shifting her legs slightly to alleviate the pressure, she ignored the pain.  Ciara didn’t swing her legs or tilt her head.  She didn’t scratch the tip of her nose or blow the annoying strand of hair out of her eyes. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the speeches ended.  Finally, her mother stood up and looked over at Ciara.  Her polite smile and subtle nod was the signal that Ciara had been waiting for. 

“Darling!” her mother called out, opening her arms. 

Ciara glanced over at her nanny, waiting for the barely perceptible nod before she slipped off of the miserable chair and raced into her mother’s arms. 

“I was good, wasn’t I?” she whispered into her mother’s ear. 

“You were perfect!” her mother replied back, holding her daughter’s shoulders as she examined the pretty, white dress.  “That must have been very hard to endure, wasn’t it?”

Ciara knew better than to complain.  “I’m sure that everyone’s words were very important.”  She glanced over at her nanny, looking for approval that she’d said the correct responses. 

Her brother walked over to her, tall and handsome, with that grin on his face that never failed to make her laugh. 

“What do you think, squirt?” he asked, lifting her into his arms.  But instead of pulling her against his chest, Ramit tossed her into the air, pretending to drop her.  Ciara laughed, grabbing onto his broad shoulders.  “Was that not the most boring group of speeches you’ve ever had to endure?”

Ciara wrapped her arm around Ramit’s shoulder, praying that he didn’t put her down, or worse, send her back to her nanny.  “It was interesting,” she lied, laying her head against his strong shoulder. 

 

 

Falk’s Story…

 

“You have to be faster!” Falk’s father snapped.  “Hesitation could be the difference between life or death.”

Falk examined the chess board, his mind quickly determining his next step.  Lifting his hand, he moved the bishop into place.

Immediately, his father moved his castle, capturing the bishop.  “You’re thinking one move ahead, son.  Not only do you have to think quickly, make decisions based off of the information that you already have, but you need to be planning five to ten moves ahead of your enemies.” 

Falk didn’t show any expression.  At sixteen years old, he already knew that showing emotions was lethal.  He shifted his pawn, then waited for his father’s move.  His castle moved into place. 

“What did you think of the pretty girl in the pink dress last night?” his father asked.

Distraction.  Another tactic.  But one that Falk had learned to ignore.  He moved his queen two squares to the right, his mind working.  Thinking.  Anticipating. 

“She was lovely, but a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

His father shifted his king.  Good move, Falk thought. 

He touched his pawn, moved it into place, then looked over at his father and smiled.  “Check mate.”

The shocked expression on his father’s face was one of the best moments in his young life.  It was the first time he’d ever beaten his father at chess! 

His father stared at the chess board, then his harsh features morphed into a smile filled with pride.  “Excellent!” he said, patting Falk’s shoulder. “Excellent game.”