Exotic: Billionaire Alpha Male Romance (The Pleasure Series Book 2)

by Ryli Jordan

  And maybe relationships are the same way. We don’t always get it right the first time…but until time runs out, there is always a new way to try. There is always a new recipe for success. How could I have been so blind, to think that backing away and giving her space was the right thing to do?

  If I wanted her back, I knew I would have to try something new. Maybe the problem was that I was falling back too much on my talent and charm. Cassie my housekeeper once told me that “Believe it or not, your charming personality doesn’t stretch as far as you think.”

  As weeks passed, and I felt the ire of Staci calm, I decided to come back to her, eager to find another recipe that would delight her heart. Maybe all my unorthodox means of getting and keeping her attention was too much. I decided instead to go with a more traditional selection—a bevy of roses, pink and white. I know most troubled gentleman might select red as the color of choice, but I’ve always been fascinated by the hidden meanings of color and was exposed to that science in cooking class, when discussing presentation.

  Pink roses represent qualities of grace and elegance, the color of poetry and appreciation. White roses are pure, loving, and recall the virtue of a new love. By combining pink and white I hoped to show Staci that whatever we once had, whether a romantic mistake or a misunderstanding, we could go back again. We could turn it into something new and pure.

  I had the pink and white roses delivered to her office and her home, flooding the facility with sentiments. I later heard from a source inside the office that the roses were the talk of the building.

  “Staci, you have a delivery,” said a secretary.

  “Who from?”

  “Well, it’s not so much who as it is what.”

  Staci stared wide eyed at the room full of roses and fought conflicting feelings of joy, embarrassment, anger and elation. There were so many roses sent, they overtook the desk, then the free space, then another storage room – to the point where the company banned more roses from being delivered. My source tells me that Staci was smiling wide, very aware that her Chef in Shining Armor was not giving up so easily.

  ***

  Whether it was fate, or just bad timing and unprofessional behavior, I couldn’t help but mesh together my personal life and professional image. When I was asked to take part in a cooking segment for The View, I couldn’t help but bring my situation with me—using the public forum as a means to clear the conflicting thoughts inside my head.

  “This is fantastic!”

  “Right. Yes. I mean, thanks.”

  Laughter and applause. The co-hosts bickered back and forth all through the cooking segment, but I was spacing out, thinking of Staci and how I might make it up to her for all our fighting and feuding.

  The co-hosts invited me over for a sit-down for the segment. Since my reputation was growing in the media, they wanted to have a little fun with me and create a few headlines. I really didn’t mind it…although in retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to get me started on this particular love-hate topic.

  “So do you have a lovely lady in your life?”

  “I…well…”

  “Ohh! That sounds like a yes.”

  “Or do you have several ladies?”

  “I…”

  “Don’t ask him that! That’s a personal question!”

  “Ladies I can assure you…there is no one in my life. But I don’t consider myself single.”

  “Awww…why not?”

  “Well…not to usurp the show from you…”

  “Go ahead. Speak your mind. The world wants to know.”

  “Well, it all started when I was ten years old living as an orphan in France.”

  Laughter. The hosts friendly-slapped me and I laughed it off.

  “But yes. Like I said, I don’t consider myself single because I am taking a break from dating. Recently, I hurt someone very dear to me. And I think I was unaware of why until I started thinking it over.”

  “Wow! Really? And is she unwilling to meet with you and talk about it?”

  “I don’t think that will ever happen, sadly. I do want her back. I would give or do anything to have another chance. But I can’t force her to like me, can I?”

  “Don’t make any of that manakish, because that stuff’s so good, you would force a woman to love you.” Laughter.

  “Seriously though…regardless of what happens I hope that if she ever sees this…she will at least forgive me. I have always thought of her as a friend. And friendship is vastly underrated in life. The more friends we have, the more goodwill in life…”

  “Ken, we really have to take a commercial break…”

  “Yes but just one second…I really want Sta…er, this person to know that I am sorry. And that whatever happens, she only deserves the best.”

  “That’s so charming!” said one of the hosts.

  “Thanks Ellen,” I said with an indulgent smirk.

  “Wrong show!”

  “Oh, sorry about that.”

  “Geez, no wonder this girl hates you!”

  My appearance on the show didn’t feel too great, but the segment went viral on social media that day. The headlines all over the entertainment news wondered, “Who was Chef Knox’s mystery woman?”

  Some speculated it was an A-list Hollywood star. Others speculated that I almost said the word Staci…leading to mass speculation that I was talking about Stacy Keibler, Stacy Sanches or even character actor Stacy Keach, oddly enough.

  The world wondered and yet I never gave them an answer. Because privacy and respect was the very least I owed the lovely Staci Abrahams. She was the mystery woman and the muse of the world’s greatest culinary artist.

  I decided to call Staci one more time.

  Chapter 11

  Staci

  After being barraged by roses in my office and then more in my driveway, I started to sense, somehow, that Knox was trying to get my attention. I did think it was sweet, and yes, it did make me feel a little bad about how I ended things.

  But none of what he did excused one simple fact: I couldn’t be with him. I didn’t belong with him. I had to bury what I felt for him and ignore my emotions which were spiraling out of control. Because I owed it to myself to stay strong and not let someone manipulate me into feeling something.

  I saw Knox calling and really wanted to pick it up and thank him for the pink and white roses. Once again this competitive, stubborn, playboy was under my skin forcing me to double think his intentions. I waited to see if he would leave a message. He didn’t. I sighed and went back to pacing in my bedroom. Thinking of all the times we’ve made love or fucked here, at his place, at his east side restaurant, all types of places. Each time was amazing and physically I could not get enough of his blue eyes, wash board abs and the happy trail of hair leading down to his dick made just for me to love.

  I guess the world didn’t understand complicated things like this. Even when a friend told me about how much attention Knox was getting, I could only hum in disappointment. They all wanted a love story.

  “I know he’s talking about you, Staci-Belle!” my friend Amanda said while we dined at brunch. “One hundred percent. He even stopped himself from saying your name.”

  “I don’t think so…” I said with smirk.

  “It WAS you,” she said as her eyes bulged.

  “Well there are a lot of Staci’s in the world. And a lot of Stacey’s with an EY. As many groupies as Knox meets, I’m sure he’s run into women with the same name.”

  “But doesn’t it like…I don’t know. Melt your heart? I know I would love it if a rich guy was talking about me on TV all over the place.”

  “Well, I don’t really owe the world an explanation, do I?” I smirk.

  “Okay, okay. Just saying…sometimes a woman doesn’t appreciate a great guy until it’s too late.”

  “He’s not just any guy, nor I’m I just any woman. I have to think about this, I wasn’t ready for this relationship. Mandi, I’m not sure when I will be.
Am I crazy for wanting to guard my heart?”

  “Staci-belle, girl I understand. I’ve known you since we were teenagers. You’ve always been stubborn. Just live a little and see what happens. He seems like a cool guy.” She picks at the arugula salad on the table. “Even the most patient men won’t wait forever.”

  I knew what she was getting at. I deserved a real relationship again and Knox would be a great match. Not only did he hit every spot on my body during sex, he was fun, and knew where he was going in life unlike some other people I’d dated. Not to mention the asshole that broke my heart a couple of years back.

  ***

  Knox's text and calls were non-stop since the rose stunt. I would be lying if I said I didn’t stop to pick up and smell a few of them.

  Only when immersed in my own thoughts could I admit that hearing his voice gave me pause and hearing his genuine emotion made me well up, flinching my eyes holding back tears.

  “It’s Knox. I’m not going to beg for another chance to win your heart, Staci. I happen to want the same thing you want. But I am willing to beg for your friendship again. We belong together in business. You’ve done wonderful things for my company. There’s more to do. Please call me sometime…we can discuss purely financial theory, and without any long lingering stares, I promise.”

  I almost called him. A few times actually. But I knew exactly what would happen if I did. He would talk…first about business then about us. Even so subtly…and I knew what would happen after that. I would feel weak and fall into his arms, wanting to go back to the beginning and relive the same thrills, the same taboo…the same naïve vision of romance.

  I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to take a goddamn phone call and fuck if I owe anyone an explanation. Who gives a shit what Joy Behar, The View host, thinks anyway?

  What really tore me up inside though, was that I couldn’t tell Knox that it wasn’t HIM. I did overreact at his admittedly stupid idea of stalking me just to make me a good dinner. But what was really eating me up inside was the idea that I didn’t trust him…because I didn’t trust myself.

  Knox was so good at filling in the silences, at making great works of art out of the simplest things in life. But he was almost as out of touch with reality as I was. Maybe even more so…just like my ex.

  “Staci…I know things haven’t been going well. But I can change. You don’t think it pains me to know how much I’ve hurt you? It burns me up all the time that I have caused you grief. But I PROMISE you things are going to be different this time. I love you. I’ll send you a rose every day. I’ll become the kind of man you want me to be. And I vow to never make another mistake—I won’t even look at another woman again. Because I can’t live without you. No one else will ever love you as much as I do.”

  The more I listened to Blake blather on about changing and not wanting to hurt me…and no one else loving me this much…the more I started to believe him. It brought me to a special kind of insanity that I really doubted anything I felt or he said.

  So when I heard Knox tell me how much he adored me and how eager he was to see me again…I was not just saying yes to a good time. I was trying to forgive and forget the past.

  I wasn’t really sure what I thought of Knox, except that he was able to evoke strong emotions out of me, definitely elicit all the passion I missed so much in life.

  But was he stable? Was he going to fuck my head up for another ten years? I couldn’t afford that again. Wasted time…a weak heart…concepts of a billionaire celebrity I might never grasp. I had to just accept that maybe I wasn’t ready for a relationship with such a powerful personality.

  It wasn’t an easy decision and I know no one would believe me for saying it, but I simply couldn’t live with the doubt. The anxiety of doubt overpowered the lust we shared.

  People are probably much happier believing that I’m just a temperamental bitch than a woman with too much baggage to deal with.

  Just because I wanted to love again didn’t mean I could. Just because I love being with someone doesn’t mean I can tear away old scars like a Band-aid. Scars are a part of me. And sometimes what’s left on the surface of us is all that still exists.

  The next morning, I made one of the most difficult and disappointed decisions of my life. I asked my associate Pete, another financial investor and account manager, to take over Knox’s account. It hurt me profoundly, and I was sure it would hurt him too.

  But it was a move motivated out of love for Knox himself, if he could ever believe it. Because deep down, I still believed in him. He could do great things for this world. He could build his brand bigger and more meaningful than it ever was. He tasted the thrill of giving and growing. It was his time to peak.

  And though our time together would fade, he would go on to greatness. He was, after all, Kenneth “Knox” Free—the greatest chef in the world. The greatest lover I’ve ever had. And now, a humanitarian capable of seeing the big picture. I could sleep a little better at night knowing that I helped turned the monster into a gentle beast.

  Just before I lay down for bed, I saw another interview in which Knox spoke honestly to the reporter. Out of his “character” of the badass chef that liked to cause trouble and just talking to the camera, the millions watching at home, as if it were just one human being.

  My heart melted as I watched him pour his heart out, not like a fool, but like a man in perfect control of his aching heart. He spoke with strength and held onto his honor. He forced himself to stand strong even in the face of rejection. He forced his grief to the back of his throat and didn’t break. He let me know, in so many words, that he wasn’t who I thought he was. He was better in every way.

  “I haven’t heard from my mystery woman, no. And I’ve come to accept her choice. Just because we say goodbye to a person doesn’t mean we stop having feelings for them. It doesn’t mean I’m giving up either. I happen to feel strongly about two things in this world. Only two. One, that good food is healing, and two, that she may have been the one that got away for me. I never really lived life or thought about life until I met her. Sometimes you actually do hit the jackpot and actually meet someone who’s amazing enough to change the direction of your life. It hurts when your best is not enough for that person. But you are still forever grateful for the memories you shared. And then all we can do is pay it forward, by the way we live our lives.”

  “Well she sounds like a lucky girl!” Applause.

  “No. I was the lucky one.”

  ***

  It seems so long ago that I was a slightly different person. Charmed by Ken’s antics, equally repulsed at his ego and tickled by his childish innocence. I remember lying in bed with him for hours talking about the uncertain future. We were both so enthusiastic because we held our tongues, we guarded our hearts. Nothing was real, only the chase, only the final word. The game.

  But even so, at night, when he was feeling chatty and I listened to him ramble in amusement, we shared at least one innocent exchange that still sticks with me.

  “The kids did used to give me a hard time in school. I think it was because my friend Caitlynn started calling me Staci-Belle.”

  “Staci-Belle?”

  “Yes. It eventually caught on and I loved it myself. Even my mother used it, because everyone seemed to think of me as the pretty little doll, the one pure innocent left in the world.”

  “You are remarkably innocent…” he said, stroking my hair and gazing into my eyes. “Maybe that’s why everyone finds you so desirable.”

  “Hmmm. A lot of bad boys seem to like me,” I said with a flirty smile.

  “Of course. They want to corrupt you. Possess you. They see themselves in you, a portrait of innocence. Of altruism.”

  “But I don’t like that part of it. Sex is nothing. I mean don’t get me wrong, honey…” I said as I patted his shoulder and giggled. “It’s amazing. But if the attraction is just based on the bad guy corrupting the innocent girl or whatever, that’s all about his ego. It’s got noth
ing to do with me.”

  “I feel you on that. And I rather enjoy the idea of little Staci-Belle, so innocent and idealistic living a good life without any evil man to disrupt it. Like Anna of Green Gables. Or is that Pollyanna?”

  “Something like that,” I said with a giggle.

  “Everyone does want to reclaim what they’ve lost, don’t they? I suppose you can’t blame a guy for that.”

  “Sometimes a girl doesn’t though. Sometimes she’s relieved to be exactly where she is.”

  I kissed him then, smooching his face and enjoyed our moment of afterglow. And at that time, it felt like I was talking about how much fun I was having at the time—which I was.

  But the more I thought back to the exchange, the more convinced I was that I was guarding myself. Giving him only my body, what I could afford to lose. And when we went our separate ways, Knox became the same kind of obsessive man he joked about—the man determined to reclaim what he had lost rather than accept that the “now” was really the best part of it.

  As the weeks flew by, I reluctantly moved past our relationship, even if I couldn’t entirely forget it. He remained true to his word and didn’t force the issue, eventually ceasing with the text messages and phone calls.

  Naturally, being a celebrity, one was bound to hear the name Chef Knox come up on the news or on the internet. I occasionally heard tidbits about him, not to mention the same old viral story popping up with all kinds of people still speculating who Knox’s mystery girl was. My favorite theory: someone thought it might be his housekeeper! Poor Cassie would be scandalized by the thought.

  I gave up trying to “tune out” the name Kenneth Free, since it was ubiquitous in the city, and even among some of my clients. Ken’s new flagship restaurant Hard Knox Café was earning rave reviews, particularly for the pastries and desserts, which were always Ken’s personal favorites.

  I decided to take my new client, Sal Morgan, to the restaurant since he had been raving about the reviews too. And not too subtly dropping hints that since I knew Ken, I could probably get impossible reservations with just one phone call.