06||



|Hunting Ebony|

If silence could poison, then Tayson died fifty-two times or more. Don't know, he lost the number of counts. His body was still as gravel and he resisted extorting glimpses at the dark Rapunzel, who was penetrated by fresh rain. 

Just how hard she's trying to ignore a man in flesh and blood, breathing just a foot away from her?  

Clenching the steering with his left hand, he slyly retrieved his phone from his pocket and directly unfold his gallery.

 A snapshot of a svelte woman clad in all black popped up. The black veil concealed her face generously, and she was mounting in shining a black SUV. Tayson's eyes flickered to Leona who didn't even glance at him, then back at the illuminating screen.

 

The woman in the picture was attired in the exact dress as the Leona and the cluster of tattoos on her hand made it obvious to him. 

Tayson slipped the phone back to its home and took the matter into his hands.

"Ebony," he spoke aimlessly in a devilish tone and watched her body freezing like dead through his peripheral vision. 

"What did you say?" she asked with tensed tone.

Tayson knew he skated the puck into the right net. In a robot-like movement, Leona turned her head and he could feel the fever of sapphire flames threatening to incinerate him.

Tayson stalled the car at the signal and pivoted his body to meet her eyes. His hand reached, inching closer to her face, and with the tip of his index finger, he barely traced the tattoo on her neck. 

A visible shudder scampered down Leona's spine and she rigidified. As Tayson already risked provoking a wounded lioness, he didn't pull his hand back. It's her. It's her.

"It's Latin, isn't it? It says Ebony," He expressed. Tone hush and scarcely a whiff of chilly breath. Leona's eyes flared and dimmed the darker shade of green. 

"And if it is?"

Tayson arched his eyebrows, with a satisfying smile. "Leona, you just jumped in a storm, you know."

She gripped his wrist and didn't hesitate to shovel her slick black painted nails in his skin hard enough to leave marks but Tayson didn't even flinch.

"Tayson, you just embraced a wildfire, you know." Her nails dig deeper as she lazily lowered his hand away from her body. 

I found Ebony, Tayson internally smirked.

ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʜᴀʟғ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ᴀɢᴏ

"He is here."

Tayson stepped into the bright luxurious conference room and promptly bows to greet his father, who was perched on the huge leather chair. His father's head raised on his accord with pride glinting in his eyes.

 Tayson; the heir of Huxley Visions. The only son of the global company's owner, and undoubtedly a loyal child.

No matter how he tinkered around or sustained his Casanova personality, not a soul comprised the courage to point out his work. His incredible mind with a cocky attitude and brilliant gaze had preserved the company from going bankrupt. He proved himself worthy of the crystal office, and he was now proving himself as a capable CEO of a multi-national company. The companies were the only heritage that he accepted. The respect, the reputation, and the power were self-earned.

Tayson forever aimed to keep the stones of his personal life away from the jewels of his professional life.

He muffled a yawn, feeling exasperated by hanging up at night in front of the laptop.

"You are late, Mr Tayson," an old man dressed in a navy blue suit reasoned with a grumpy and taunting tone. 

"You are not the only person with a timepiece, Mr Tiffin," Tayson retorted with a polite tone, not even bothering to hoist his head from the laptop. "Lights off."

The men settled on along the side of a bluish glass long table mutes themselves as the room dims and the silhouette of their Director standing in front of massive bright screen subtly moves. 

Sharp intakes of breaths, winces, and gasps slashed through the quietude as they all gawked at the grisly red art.

"Bleed," Tayson's silky voice naturally espoused the cold and authoritative tone that cleared the head of the daydreamers and grabbed the attention of every person present in the cabin.

 When he was sure that he had all the ears, he continued, "Another torpedo dropped by Ebony that blasted the world of art. Again she shredded the artists of our company. This scary yet captivating design is twice featured in the Art Festival of New York, nominated for America's National awards and snagged twenty awards, one is in process."

A male raised his hand and Tayson nodded at him to share his query. "And why are we talking about this?"

Tayson licked his plump lower lip, trying to cast the right words before speaking, "Because I want Ebony."

A peculiar silence lingered followed by a derisive chuckle that erupted in the room. "You are talking as if Ebony is a piece of cake. Sorry to break it to you, Mr Tayson, but Ebony is a worldwide artist working with our rival company. No one knows, who he or she is, where that person is, honestly why would Ebony work with us? And why do you think Ebony is a woman?"

The other men nod in approval, sputtering a small yes. Tayson peered straight at his father to check whether his idea sounds rubbish to him as well, but to his surprise, his father seemed to be anticipating something from him. A silent conversation was engaged between the son and father.

"Thanks for informing me that Ebony is an artist of our rival company, I didn't know, Mr Zion." The smooth sarcasm oozed out of his lips appeared to an appreciation filled with sweet words. Tayson switched off the projector and his secretary flicked the lights on so he could proceed.

 "I think we are too dependent on our current artists. Miss. Richa— our number one artist at a moment, is constantly misusing her powers by threatening us not to renew her contract. It's not just her, but other artists too are using this sickening method to fulfil their demands. They think they can walk all over us. I want to knock some sense in them that Huxley Visions don't need such douchebags and assholes. It's time that we consider the real talents reading out in the world." He paused, breathing in deeply.

"And Ebony, sure it's extremely difficult to reach her. But I trust myself and my employees. We can get her to work with us if we are determined. To answer your last question Mr Zion, I am just having a feeling that she's a woman. Just my instincts. That's it. Anything else?" Tayson's commanding ashes eyes screamed, Yes-bitches-come-at-me-I-will-show-you-your-places.

"I agree, and support. We surely need to step up our game." One of the men nodded his head, and by his smile, Tayson could tell he was impressed.

"Me too."

"Count me in."

And the room soon chorused in a charter setting the grey eyes man in a truce.

Even a single veto would have served as a hindrance to his proposal. Personally, Tayson highly admired the artist Ebony, and the fact that his mother was a fan of that secret covet artist made him want to discover her.

He was sure that it was a woman.

Because Ebony expressed a kind of pain that could pull the strings of hearts, a kind of darkness that could lure you into the endless night, a kind of sensualism that could tingle your bone.

Only a woman could be that strikingly manipulative, expressive, and seductive with her dexterity.

Once the conference room was vacant, Tayson's father patted his back wearing an appreciative smile."Good job, your mother will be so happy hearing this."

"I know. But don't let her know yet." Tayson cocked his head, with a playful smile. "Isn't she mad at you cause she saw you talking to a pretty nurse,"

His father glared at him. "You know that's not true and I love your mother."

The young man laughed at his father's defensive shield. "Of course, she's just jealous."

"I know," the old man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Roseline has always been jealous, since co-"

Tayson held his hands up, walking reverse to the exit. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I spend my childhood and teenage hearing your bad girl good boy love story." With a pause, he continued. "Byee, tell mom that I love her!" 

"You never said that to me!" 

Tayson chuckled, excessively happy that everything was going all right. Except for his mother, but he knew, she would be better. 

Walking into the elevator, his manager, Wes, cleared his throat and asked, "So, how are we going to find Ebony?" 

Tayson let out a low whistle and grinned. "I don't know."

Wes stared at him in disbelieve. "You were oozing confidence in the conference room as if Ebony is your long-lost wife."

Tayson rolled his eyes, and admired his reflection in the glass, fixing his tie. "Look for her. According to my research, Ebony might be in UK or Alaska, or any Asian country. I doubt that she's in India as on her official I*******m account she posted a rough sketch of an ancient South Indian temple. Divide the teams, ask them to focus on regions of India and France. Also, let's keep our watch on airports, I am sure the artist will visit Log Angeles soon due to the LA fest awards."

"Why don't you talk to Ronald? Wasn't he a professor in your college days?" Wes nonchalantly crushed his nose and Tayson offered him a nasty glare.

"You are dumb if you think I didn't talk to him. I did, and he flipped me off. Of course, even if I was his favourite student, now we are rivals. There is no way he would show me his secret card."

"But are you sure it's a woman?".

"It doesn't matter who it is. If it's an old man or a kid, just find Ebony."

Months were spent in search of Ebony. Every employee in the company was determined and at the crest of curiosity to find the artist.  After comprehensive scrutiny and sleepless dusks, Tayson successfully attained a chunk of knowledge.

"Are you sure it's her?" He stared at the picture flickering on his phone. 

"Yes, just today she arrived in the country and we spot her car parked in Ronald's driveway and later Ronald granted a holiday to the whole company, the pieces fit right."

A conquest smirk crept on his lips, as his grey eyes stare at her back frame. "So it's a woman after all."

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

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