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Chocolate for Her Billionaires Part One: The Interview
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About Auriella Skye

Auriella Skye dreams of becoming a powerful goddess and creating a whole pantheon of gods to do her naughty bidding. Until then, she happily spends her time weaving those fantasies into the erotic and fun tales that she enjoys reading as much as writing. She loves creating characters and worlds filled with the wonderful stuff reality lacks. Auriella resides in Central Florida and spends her days and nights surrounded by words in their various, spectacular forms.

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THE DIPLOMATS' DAUGHTER

Alyse Zaftig

Sneak Peek

As the ambassador grabbed a mike to do the smooth politician thing and close the dinner, a large bang shook the room. It felt like a very loud earthquake, and part of the building crumpled.

It was followed by another one.

The lights were out. Our power was gone.

Diplomatic security was there in a heartbeat with flashlights. They were trained to be cool under fire, which is a pretty good thing when you have Chinese dignitaries being attacked on American soil.

“Everybody out. Go to the evacuation routes. Remain calm.”

People pushed each other to head for the exits. People were walking on people who had fallen on the ground. Civilization exists in a thin layer that is quickly demolished in times of danger.

Getting Ready

Tonight, I had to go to another state dinner. It was supposed to celebrate bilateral cooperation. Not all of the Foreign Service Officers had to attend every one of them, but when your dad is the Deputy Command of Mission (DCOM), you do. My mom was another FSO; she was in the public policy cone.

It was incredibly boring to go to a state dinner. Formal dinners look so glamorous in movies, but the reality is very different. For one thing, expensive clothes can be binding, especially when you have the kind of rack that I have. Silk doesn’t stretch, and that’s a problem when your top is a couple sizes bigger than your bottom. Curvy girl problems.

For another, sitting through boring speeches and a zillion courses was incredibly boring. But of course, you had to have your politely interested face on at all times. There was a common misconception that diplomatic brats were awful because they thought that diplomatic immunity was equivalent to diplomatic impunity. Not true. My parents weren’t around all that much, but they’d be on me like hawks if I did something that jeopardized something for which they worked so hard.

I was wearing a scarlet dress, a simple one, and it looked pretty good. It minimized everything bad, and it emphasized my curves in a great way. My mother and I went to a hair salon to have our hair yanked around by Chinese hairdressers who could have trained the torturers at Guantanamo. The end product was great, but I had to wipe my eyes before a makeup artist did my makeup.

Mom always had professionals help before a big shindig, whether it was a conference or a smaller event. She always said that looking good was the key to feeling good. Tipping wasn’t always appreciated in other countries, but so far in China we found that they expected tips from Americans. Maybe in the rural areas, it would have been rude to tip, but in Beijing they were used to Americans.

When I first got here, it was a huge shock. There were millions of Chinese people who had no concept of personal space. Every inch of the sidewalk was packed. The streets were a terrifying pack of cars, and motorcycles laden with way too much stuff wove in and out of traffic.

I stood out like a beacon, even though I was petite. People would turn and stare at me. It was as if they’d never seen a black girl before. They would come up and indicate with a camera that they wanted to take pictures with me, as if I were a celebrity or something. Little kids reached out to touch my hair.

I was really weirded out by it at first. Koreans may not be used to darker-skinned black girls, but they’re somewhat more respectful of personal space. Not so in Beijing. I’d gotten used to being randomly touched and asked to take pictures over time. It was easier to let them take a photograph than it was to argue with them about it.

The only black people they saw were in movies and television. There were some really offensive portrayals in Asian TV, featuring caricatures of African tribesmen with bones through their noses, but it came with the territory.

When the Chinese hairdressers were done, though, we didn’t look like we came from the wilderness. Our hair was in immaculate, glossy curls. The end result was worth a few tears here and there. We sat down with two makeup artists, and then we were good to go.

We didn’t drive in China. It was way too terrifying. Instead, we hired a driver who could navigate in and out of Beijing traffic. It was far easier to hire someone who had knowledge of the local customs than it was to find out the hard way. Mom called our driver, and he came to the front of the salon to get us.

State Dinner

The embassy hired a local photographer for the dinner at the ambassador’s residence behind the embassy, and he was standing by the receiving line. We took pictures with the ambassador and his wife before moving on.

We mingled with the other Foreign Service officers and their families. I beelined for Annette, who was the only other diplomatic brat that I could stand. We weren’t really that close, but we were alike in being quiet and fading into the background. Neither of us really rocked the boat, and we were happy to be quiet around one another. Parties are a lot easier when you have one friend.

When dinner was served, I went to rejoin my parents. We were seated at a table with a politician that Mom knew. He was the governor of Guangdong. They launched into an extended discussion of high-speed rail in the province and the impact on commerce.

With him, he had a tiny wife who said nothing. She was dressed with white jade everywhere. She was breathtakingly beautiful, but she looked fragile, as if a breath of air would blow her away.

They had brought their kids. They had a set of twins. I did a double take when I got a good look at them.

They had the faces of fallen angels or supermodels. I spent a lot of time on r/makeupaddiction, and they had what we called ‘natural contouring’ aka cheekbones for days. They had broad shoulders like swimmers that their suits could barely keep up with. They had really good posture, too, which made them look like they could be military cadets.

So I was happy to start up a conversation with them.

“I’m Zola. Do you speak English?”

The one closest to me gave me a look. “Do you?”

I blushed. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. It’s just that in China…”

“Ignore him.” The other one had a more pronounced British accent than his brother. It was common in Asia for people to speak with British accents, because all of the English teachers seemed to be from the United Kingdom. “He has no social grace. I’m Kuan-yin. You can call me Kyle.”

“Whatever.” The first one snorted. “You’re just trying it on, trying to pull a girl at one of these stupid dinners. I’m Fa. You may not call me File.”

“Pleased to meet you.” It was a better idea not to engage. “So, what do you guys do?”

“We’re hanging out in Beijing for our last summer before we go to college in America.”

I was drinking water, and that was a bad idea. I sprayed a little bit on my plate, before I swallowed. I coughed as it went down the wrong pipe, and my mom turned around to glare at me before she turned back to the governor.

“Sorry.” I coughed more. “I didn’t mean to do that. So you were saying? You’re going to college in America?”

“Yeah. Our dad said that he could get us in the door anywhere, but we want to make our way up on our own. We’re going to Columbia.”

“That’s crazy.” I felt my eyebrows pull together. “That’s where I’m going, too. What are you majoring in?”

“Finance,” they answered in unison.

“Maybe economics, too,” Kyle added.

“Oh, really? What do you want to go into?”

“Investment banking.” Fa yawned.

“Microfinance to encourage development of rural areas.” Kyle slung his arm around the back of his chair. “Have you heard of Muhammad Yunus and Grameen Bank?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “He’s totally revolutionizing the way that people think about ending the cycle of poverty. It doesn’t take that much to help people out. It just takes a little bit of cash, and it can set them up for greater success later on.”

“I want to do that in China.” Kyle’s eyes looked like they were on fire. I could clearly see that he was passionate from the way that he was totally upright in his seat. “I think there’s so much opportunity to offer.”

“Shut up,” Fa said. “You sound like Dad when you talk about stupid public policy. I’m going into a career where I will stand next to a waterfall of money. I intend to get wet.” He cocked an eyebrow at me.

I felt my cheeks get hot.

“What about you? What are you planning to major in?”

“Linguistics, probably. My parents have exposed me to so many languages that it would be weird if I didn’t pick up a linguistics major. I’m probably a good case study of language acquisition, honestly. I’ve lost count of how many I speak.”

“What do you speak?”

“Just a mix of everything. We’ve lived in a lot of countries over the years. Even when I went to an international school, you pick up the patois wherever you are. It comes with the territory.”

“That must be fun.” Kyle smiled. “I’ve never lived outside of China, so I’m really looking forward to living in New York City. We travel there once a year for our mom’s annual shopping trip, and it’s always a good time. I love walking through Little Italy.”

“I do, too! The authentic Italian food is so good.” I beamed at him. “I love the musical accompaniment, too.”

Fa snorted. “It’s like being inside Lady and the Tramp. Kyle and Mom are suckers for that kind of thing. You’re such a pansy, Kyle.”

“Whatever,” Kyle shot back. “It’s not my fault that you can’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

I recognized that it was time to change the subject. “So have you got housing yet?”

“Yeah. We’re going to live in Morningside Heights and take the subway down to Columbia.”

“So am I! That’s weird.”

“Not at all. The rent is cheaper up there, and getting to Columbia is easy. Our mom wanted to buy a place in Manhattan, but Dad said that it would look bad.”

“Look bad? Why? I mean, my parents aren’t about to buy me a loft in Tribeca or anything, but if you can afford it…”

“It makes the news.” Kyle was a little less lighthearted now. “It always makes the news. Look at the Chinese politician spending all of his corrupt, corrupt money on buying real estate outside of China! It’s like people don’t think that Dad earns any kind of salary. It’s hard to even buy a car.”

“What? Why?”

“People always think that Dad’s been bribed with it.” Fa shrugged. “That’s why most of our belongings are in Mom’s name. It’s easy to throw Dad’s name around, but it breeds a lot of resentment. It’s a careful balance with public perception.”

“That has to be tough. I mean, I can’t imagine what it would be like if my parents had to put up with that. We have to deal enough with people thinking that my parents get side money from people bribing them to get them immigrant visas. My parents aren’t even part of the consular cone, though they’ve done their consular tours like everyone else.”

“What are consular tours?”

“Oh, dealing with visas and stuff. Mom used to have to visit prisons in Thailand when we lived there.”

“Thailand? What? Why?”

“There are a lot of Americans there who swear that they didn’t know it was marijuana you were smoking. The American Embassy will make sure that you have due process, but if you’re convicted, we won’t get you out. You’ll get regular visits from diplomats who’ll give you all the magazines you want, though.”

“That sounds…not like what I expected diplomatic service to be like.”

“Real life rarely is what it looks like on the outside.”

“Yeah.” Fa and Kyle caught eyes for a moment. “Rarely.”

We got busy when the food was served. It was Asian fusion. Our head chef for the night was someone who got really inspired by Eddie Huang, and he mixed Chinese food with American tastes.
Not
the kind of American-Chinese food that you’ll find at midnight in NYC. We had hot pot soup, steamed buns filled with pork and prawns, dan dan noodles with minced pork and chili oil, tea smoked roasted duck with wraps and hoisin sauce, and mango pudding with ginger cookies. Everything was an incredible explosion of flavor, geared towards what would tempt American palates while giving Chinese people the familiarity they needed. It was a delicate balance.

As the ambassador grabbed a mike to do the smooth politician thing and close the dinner, a large bang shook the room. It felt like a very loud earthquake, and part of the building crumpled.

It was followed by another one.