Wanted: One Lackey... (Regan)

[Roberto da Costa]

{desc=Looks required... office skills, less so}Roberto lounged back at the table he was seated at inside Central Park. A chess board was situated on the table in front of him and he was dressed in business casual attire with a pair of black dress shoes, black slacks, a black belt, and a burnt orange dress shirt that had the top few buttons undone to expose his chest. His fingers were laced behind his head as he leaned back and regarded the world around him through the blue lenses of his Oakley shades, the newest iPhone tucked securely into the breast pocket of the shirt.

Today was a lovely day to be outside in the massive park in the heart of New York City, the shadows just starting to lengthen as the height of the day moved on into the early afternoon. It was also a day of business, case in point he had spent most of the day interviewing perspective employees to serve as his personal assistant here in the United States. More than fifty women, and he refused to have a male personal assistant, had responded to the ad he had placed for the position.

Wanted: Attractive Woman, age 18-27 to serve as personal assistant to Brazilian playboy. Will need many necessary skills of a menial nature. Call: 555-9567 if interested.

The fact of the matter was that with meetings between himself and various high ranking officials with Sublime Industries, Trask Enterprises, and Worthington Industries becoming more and more frequent and serious it was becoming increasingly difficult to find the time in the day to make travel arrangements, transportation arrangements, and even o just keep everything organized. If there was one thing he'd learned at Harvard while completeing his degrees it was:

THAT'S WHAT STOOGES ARE FOR!

Still, so far, of the many women to call about the position only a half dozen had been able to find him here in the park to interview. Tracking him down was part of the process of the interview. It showed initiative, deductive reasoning skills, moxie, and ability to follow directions. After all, he had provided detailed instructions to each woman about how and where, roughly, to find him in the park. Of course, his favorite part of doing interviews like this was that it forced the peons to dance to his tune.

Like the Pied Piper.

Most of the interviewees so far had been less than what he was looking for. Because all but one of them had not exactly been attractive. He wanted an attractive personal assistant. In the good old boys' world of big business an smokin' hot personal assistant was a status symbol. Especially when she was also highly competent. Of course, though, the one good looking woman that had found him to interview had been dumb as a brick.

Roberto sighed to himself. "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut," he muttered, waiting for the next fly to blunder into his web.

[Regan Wyngarde]

Regans idea of interview material.

Regan played over the phone conversation in her mind a million times as she strolled through Central Park. Not that she actually needed to. After all she need only look into the minds of the surrounding people to find her mark. It also helped that her father had been showing her pictures of the playboy for months, planning her infiltration. It had been a spring of luck when they'd heard of him being in the U.S., and even better, looking for a personal assistant. That was simply too easy, she had thought. But her father was a strong willed man, and Regan his ever abiding soldier. When he said jump Marty may jump and ask if that was high enough, but Regan asked how high first. She wanted her facts first.

She wanted the knowledge one needed to do things efficiently.

The blond searched the surrounding area, her tanned hand running along the smooth curve of her dress. She looked damn good, and she knew it. Not only because she was incredibly confident on the grounds of her looks, but because the minds of those around her only confirmed it, She could see their thoughts like lines from a book, read their every thought on her. She smirked to herself as she "listened" to the comments on her attire. Some from women who wanted to be here while others would lead her down a path to fantasy. But that was of no matter, even though playing with their heads was such a delightful tease. She found the line of thought she needed. From... Was that? Ah... Yes, a competitor. How quaint. Regan followed her train of thought and almost saw Roberto da Costa through her eyes.

She actually had to laugh out loud at the womans thoughts on the man. Mostly at how she was trying to psyche herself up for the interview with such a handsome man. Oh this would be fun. Fun indeed. The blond followed the 'scent' of that thought and after a few moment she spotted him. She was behind him, while the other woman was ahead of him. She wasn't hideous, though her attire left far too much to imagination. Not even a glimmer of sexy on this gal and Regan nearly burst into victorious laughter. They were making this too easy! The woman approached the chess table, Rebecca was her name Regan caught. She sat at the chess table, looking nervous and opened her mouth to speak. Regan stepped up then, her grin nearly cruel. She made no move to introduce herself to Roberto.

Instead she gave him a fine view of her backside as she peered down at the sitting woman.

"Times up." She said clearly, her sultry voice slithering between thick red lips. Rebecca looked up at her in surprise and Regan noted the rather nasty thoughts that ran behind her eyes and through her mind. A blond brow raised and she shooed her with a tanned hand. "Go on then. The ad said attractive, I'm afraid you don't quite fit the bill dear." Rebecca's mouth dropped open and she gawked at Regan in complete disbelief at the outright insult. She stood slowly, half defeated. Regan grinned and couldn't help but chuckle, but she frowned as Rebecca's mind thought of defiance to impress the playboy. She looked at her intently, pressing images into her mind. Images of things that needed doing elsewhere, pressing matter at home. Yes. Those illusions would do for this simpleton.

"Did. I. Stutter." She snapped, her icy eyes stilling for a moment as the images flashed into the competitors head. Finally Rebecca nodded and walked away as if nothing had transpired. Regan finally turned to face him, sliding herself into the seat across from him. She sat half sideways, crossing one smooth tanned leg over the other, the black tahitian pearls in stark contrast around her ankle.

"Now then." She said with a sly smile, holding her hand out. "Regan Wyngarde. It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. da Costa." She purred. She couldn't help but send him a few mental images as she said the word pleasure. People were such fun toys. Especially when they simply thought her illusions and images were their own doing.

Too easy...

[Roberto da Costa]

Roberto sat back in the park chair interviewing candidate number seven. This model was named Rebecca. She wasn't too terrible on the eyes and she certainly knew how to dress professionally, which was a plus, unlike number five. Number five, yikes. She'd been a great looking girl, but come on now, dropping a trench coat to reveal nothing more than a few scraps of cloth and some dental floss? Yeah, she'd had the body for it, no doubt, but there was a certain level of professionalism that was needed and she clearly hadn't had it.

The Brazilian playboy sat back in his seat, hands laced behind his head, listening to Rebecca prattle on about her various skills. She had the skills and professionalism, but he couldn't tell if she quite had the look he wanted. When a blonde arrived on the scene with just the right amount of sex appeal and professionalism the tanned man found his gaze following her as she moved in his direction with a sultry saunter. Another interviewee, the first one to show up while someone else was in the hot seat.

Well, this would be interesting.

Of course, she wasted no time in wandering over. Roberto found himself feeling slightly miffed, at first, when she turned her back on him to address Rebecca instead of him. Even if she did have a nice butt. Then she started speaking to Rebecca and the playboy found himself, impressed.

"Times up. Go on then. The ad said attractive, I'm afraid you don't quite fit the bill dear. Did. I. Stutter."

Roberto watched as Rebecca rose from her seat and hurried off. That was all he needed to see of that woman anyway. If Rebecca couldn't hold her ground in the face of competition she wasn't the right woman for the job. Obviously. Roberto would not tolerate his personal assistant being a push over. He dealt with a lot of powerful people with equally powerful personalities. His assistant needed to be able to handle that.

His eyes followed the blonde's lithe form as she poured herself into the seat opposite his. She obviously had the right dress style. Enough skin to be provocative, a useful trait in a personal assistant who could distract opponents in negotiations with a carefully timed interruption. Enough serious to say that she was still a professional and not to be taken as a child playing in an adult's world. The accessories also pointed to someone with at least some passing access to money, if the pearls around her shapely leg were any indicator.

"Now then. Regan Wyngarde. It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. da Costa."

Roberto shook his head to clear some of the images running through his head, one of which featured those tanned legs of hers wrapped around his head. Business before pleasure, but there was also no reason to think he couldn't take her out for a test drive. At some point. Maybe even today. But not just now. Business before pleasure, always.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, I like that. Still, I don't recall telling anyone my name when they called to ask about interviews," Roberto said in an ever so slightly Brazilian accented tone, arching a dark haired eyebrow over the top of his Oakley's. He had been very careful not to mention his name, not that he assumed most people here would recognize him.

"I assume you're not a moron. Birth certificate and tell me how you knew who I was," Roberto said with a smirk, holding out a hand for the woman to place the documentation in. Since the age cutoff was on the young side he was going to make absolutely sure before interviewing anyone that they were of age to work full-time in America in any position the soon to be billionaire might desire. "And tell me a bit about you, while you're at it."

[Regan Wyngarde]

Regan met his eyes, her smirk ever present. That was just Regan, always the confident little minx. She almost laughed as he assumed her images were his own thoughts. This was too much fun. At least her father had sent her on a mission that could entertain the rambunctious blond. She often got bored, and playing with the minds of those around her always did the trick for a little fun. Marty didn't appreciate it when Regan played with her, but she found it amusing. The two of them battling in the illusions. She flashed him a sly smile and opened her Chanel purse. She retrieved two documents. First was the birth certificate that proved she was indeed legal. She placed it into his hand, her finger grazing his flesh. The second document was a newspaper. She held it up, the heading in Portuguese, and his picture blown up to take up half the front page.

"You make the papers quite often in Brazil, no?" She teased softly, reading over the words slowly. Almost lazily. Her Portuguese was a bit rusty but she thought there was mention of a scandal. She set it down, careful not to knock any chess pieces over. "Anyone with knowledge of the world outside of the U.S. and simple deductive reasoning could have figured it out Mr. da Costa." She said confidently. She ran a finger across her bottom lip, smoothing her lipstick in an enticing manner. Sex appeal was not difficult for Lady Mastermind. It was natural, like breathing. "Brazilian Playboy... Now that was the easiest clue of all. But it was your instructions that gave you away." She said calmly, her eyes straying from his face to look at the game in front of her.

Her brow raised a moment as her tongue lightly tapped one of her canines, a small habit she did when she was thinking. Her father had often told her life was like a game of chess. He'd never tell her which piece she was in his little game. But Regan was confident she wasn't just a pawn. Far too valuable. Her tanned fingers lifted a pawn, eyeing it.

Yet, each pawn was important in its own way.

She set the piece back down and reviewed the board and her place behind the white side. She hated going first in chess. There was no information to strategize off of. True she could control the board being the first to make a move, but she much preferred to use their moves against them. Regardless the blond met his eyes before moving a piece nonchalantly. She laughed, however, as he asked her to tell him about herself. "Such a remedial question. I much prefer getting to know someone on the fly." That was a lie, seeing as Regan knew almost everything she wanted to on a person upon meeting them. "Very well. Are there any specifics you'd like to know?" She said sweetly, once more flashing hims a sly smile and a few more images.

"Don't worry, I'm not shy." She teased. She gestured to the board with a smooth motion, leaning forward ever so slightly to give him a glimpse of the necklace that draped in generous amounts of cleavage. "You're move, Brazilian Playboy." She purred.

[Roberto da Costa]

Roberto accepted the document and newspaper clipping from Regan. He examined the birth certificate quickly, knowing what to look for to determine whether or not it was a fake, and it passed the test. She was eighteen. Good enough for Roberto, at least on the age front, and she was certainly not too hard on the eyes. Next he unfolded the journal clipping from Jornal do Brasil and quickly scanned it from behind his sunglasses before passing it back, more sensational journalism regarding him.

"You make the papers quite often in Brazil, no? Anyone with knowledge of the world outside of the U.S. and simple deductive reasoning could have figured it out Mr. da Costa. "Brazilian Playboy... Now that was the easiest clue of all. But it was your instructions that gave you away."

"What I do in my homeland is my own business," Roberto replied, his lips pulling back in the slightest of smiles. He passed the clipping back to Regan. Still, he was impressed that she had put it together. She was the first one to have figured it out and greeted him by name without him having to explain who he was. Still, he couldn't see any reason to tell the curvy blonde that. "You're a smart girl, I like that. You speak Brazilian Portugese?"

As he finished speaking he looked down at the board from behind the shades of his glasses. They would begin the game in a few moments, but for now there was more talking to do. Instead of leaning forward, he leaned back in his seat and laced his hands behind his head once more. He was mildly surprised, but didn't allow it to show on his features, when she leaned forward and started examining the board. She seemed to be, constantly, two steps ahead of him. Could she be? He pushed those thoughts away for a moment, he didn't truthfully care if she was.

"Such a remedial question. I much prefer getting to know someone on the fly. Very well. Are there any specifics you'd like to know?"

Roberto shook his head again to clear some of the fun images from his head concerning him and the blonde intertwined in various interesting positions. After a few seconds the images subsided. Instead he tried to focus on her fingers as she reached out and delicately lifted one of the pieces and moved it. How could she know what was going on at every step of the way? For the time being he remained silent, hands laced behind his head, watching the blonde.

"Don't worry, I'm not shy. Your move, Brazilian Playboy."

"You can start," Roberto replied, smirking at the blonde, as he reached down and moved one of his knights, "By explaining to me how you know every step of my interview before I do," he continued, displaying a dazzling array of white teeth against his tanned skin as he enjoyed the ample display of her cleavage and the enticing way the necklace disappeared into it. The match had begun, the game was afoot. "And you can continue by explaining why I should choose you over someone else."

[Regan Wyngarde]

"What I do in my homeland is my own business,"

"Of course." She said sweetly.

"You're a smart girl, I like that. You speak Brazilian Portuguese?"

The blond slowly removed her sunglasses, lazily draping them in the edge of her dress. Regan flashed him a wide grin. It was lovely, yet as usual a hint of something predatory lurked behind icy blue eyes. "Só um pouco." Only a little. Oh yes. Her father had prepared her for him well. If she couldn't keep up with his speech his mind was always free game. She met his gaze, her mental fingers filing through his 'cabinets'. He was impressed. Good. But growing suspicious. Her head tilted ever so slightly, giving her a rather innocent appearance. She'd been enjoying herself so much she hadn't realised how quickly he was piecing things together. All the same it was an easy fix.

She could simply morph his mind if she so chose.

But first she'd rely on wordplay.

"You can start, by explaining to me how you know every step of my interview before I do,"

She grinned as she watched him move his knight. Predictable without even probing his mind, but she'd cheat all the same. Definite victory was more important than integrity. Regan had come to that conclusion long ago. What was honor to terrorists and thieves? Even the so called 'good guys' held honor at arms length. Oh they preached their oh so wonderful ways and demanded you follow their footsteps for the good of the world... But she could peer into their minds, see their most hidden desires. And everyone wanted power in some shape or form. She moved a second piece, letting him sit in silence for a moment.

Let the big boss man stew.

Finally her red lips parted, still ever grinning. "Your interview is simple." She said nonchalantly. She leaned back slightly, her confidence booming. "Forgive my frank speech, but it's incredibly predictable. Has there truly been no other to see through it?" She said through a laugh, her illusion tugging at his mind making her voice even more enjoyable. Just the faintest parlor trick. No more images, he was growing too close to the truth. Though she was surprised he didn't mind the idea of her being a mutant.

A telepath, at that. Had the roles been reversed she would have already sent her away. Too many secrets in her mind for someone to rattle around with.

"And you can continue by explaining why I should choose you over someone else."

Once more she laughed, confidence once more rolling off of her in waves. She was so pleased with the question she was simply beaming. A pink tongue flicked out slightly dampen her lipstick. "Really? Why should you choose me over them?" She didn't even see them as competition. They were sad little insects that were in need of a purge. Humans. Filthy little apes, she was ashamed to be their next evolutionary step. "Mr. de Costa. Don't insult me, just yet. We've known each other only a few moments. Sir, can you honestly tell me that anyone else has been both intelligent and as lovely as I?" She said with a laugh.

"Usually one cannot have their cake and eat it to." She said with the slight inclination of her head. She raised one blond brow. "Luckily for you, that is not the case here." She sighed and held up a hand, "I don't mean to be vain." she said with slight boredom. That was completely untrue. Regan knew she was quite the looker, and she knew that it was an asset to her fathers cause.

"But," She continued, her icy gaze surveying the board and moving an appropriate piece. Should she let him win? Would that be the right thing to ensure he took her on as his secretary? Other than simply manipulating his mind... "If I must explain it I'll make it quick and simple." Her mind calculated the odds of her letting him win and finally decided that it just wasn't in her nature to lose. She'd use her advantage against him, monitor his every move and thought.

Chess. Childsplay when you could simply anticipate every move.

"I'm intuitive, as you've already seen, I'm incredibly distracting in a boardroom. As you can imagine... But on top of all of that I'm quick." She said tapping her temple.

Oh if he only knew what that quick truly meant.

[Roberto da Costa]

"Your interview is simple. Forgive my frank speech, but it's incredibly predictable. Has there truly been no other to see through it?"

"Am I now," Roberto asked, arching an eyebrow at the blonde as he considered the chessboard before him. This interview was turning into something much closer to the chess match than he would have liked. On the one hand the stunning blonde was revealing that she had several worthwhile traits that he could put to good use. On the other hand it was somewhat troubling that she was picking right through him and he wasn't sure how keen he was for that. It bespoke of training she had received, perhaps in the arena of corporate espionage.

"And you can continue by explaining why I should choose you over someone else."

"Really? Why should you choose me over them? Mr. da Costa. Don't insult me, just yet. We've known each other only a few moments. Sir, can you honestly tell me that anyone else has been both intelligent and as lovely as I?"

Roberto regarded the board a bit more and mulled over his options for the next move as well as the words that Regan had spoken in answer to his query. He could honestly say, in his mind only, that she was quite correct. And that was the problem. No eighteen year old should be this accomplished at these sorts of games, not without the years of schooling that he had gone through. Something still seemed off here and while his libido was certainly going he wasn't about to let the issue drop. As he was thinking the blonde continued to speak.

"Usually one cannot have their cake and eat it to. Luckily for you, that is not the case here. I don't mean to be vain."

'Yes you do,' Roberto thought, listening to the blonde prattle on as she quoted a well-known saying about cake that could have been a double entendre. The woman was obviously full of herself, not that being that way was a bad thing. As long as she understood where she fit within the greater scheme of things, which was in a subordinate role to him if she were hired. His mind continued to wander about the woman's background and motives as she spoke. Instead he reached out and moved one of his own pawns and remained quiet for the time being, listening and observing.

"But, if I must explain it I'll make it quick and simple. I'm intuitive, as you've already seen, I'm incredibly distracting in a boardroom. As you can imagine... But on top of all of that I'm quick."

She certainly was quick, there were no doubts there. That was another potential problem. Her making off with his money. No, something wasn't adding up here and Roberto was tiring of the games she was playing. It was time to play the trump card, or at least one of them. Reaching out his plucked his knight and moved it to take one of Regan's pawns. He held the pewter piece in his hand for a moment before tossing it away from him and stretching out a hand vaguely in the direction of the piece. The pawn melted in midair and fell to the blacktopped pavement in a heap of melted metal. A shame, he'd liked this chess set.

"Nao mais jogos. Eu sei que você me compreenda perfeitamente. Diga-me como ou eu vou fazer de você o que fiz apenas para o peça xadrez*," Roberto said quietly in Portuguese, looking over the top of his sunglasses at the blonde woman. He still had not decided one way or another if he was going to hire her or not, but he was most assuredly going to have a straight answer from her.

She seemed to have insider information, possibly, and she was far too skilled at this form of debate for someone with her age and educational background. Questions needed to be answered and he wanted those answers now. The display of power was also meant as a show or force and a means of his reasserting his role as the dominant half of the interview. He wasn't about to be showed up by some blonde teen, regardless of how attractive she was.

"Que você trabalham,**" the Brazillian billionaire asked, continuing to speak in Portuguese as he regarded the woman, his eyes narrowing slightly. He knew one of only a handful of reactions would come from the blonde. He suspected that he knew which one it would be but, to test a suspicion at the back of his mind he deliberately allowed recollections of the most recent round of World Cup qualifying soccer matches to float to the top of his mind as he was speaking.

"Me responda agora.***"

*No more games. I know that you understand me perfectly well. Tell me how or I will do to you what I did to that chess piece.

**Who do you work for?

***Answer me now.