Love, International Style

by Alexia Adams

  “I agree with him. Having fired me, are you going to cry at home tonight? Because, as the sackee, I may be conflicted in consoling you.”

  “Perhaps we could engage in mutual consolation. However, I’m not really sacking you. I have an opportunity to present to you.”

  “I’m listening,” Jeremy said, intrigued. Lalita had been having a lot of meetings lately with her father who had taken over the position of Chairman of the Board. It meant John could still keep his hand in the business without having to deal with the day-to-day stress. The appointment had appeased the Board who now whole-heartedly supported Lalita as CEO.

  “We want to set up a separate entity, an autonomous division, to provide marketing advice to our clients. This new company would also be at liberty to seek out its own clients and take on other markets. The Chairman, the Board, and I unanimously support the appointment of you to lead this new venture.”

  “Who would I report to? How would it be funded?” Jeremy leaned forward.

  “You would hold the position of CEO and report directly to the Chairman and Board. You would be my counterpart for the new company. Evans International is willing to provide seed funding up to ten million pounds, which must be repaid in regular quarterly installments as soon as the marketing company is profitable. Once the repayments are made, you will be given forty percent voting stock, John Evans will hold twenty percent, as will I. The remaining twenty percent will be available for purchase by anyone other than the three of us. No one person can hold a majority. I suggest that perhaps your mother hold ten percent and the remaining ten percent be sold to investors.”

  Jeremy was astounded. It was his dream, handed to him on a silver plate.

  “What we need from you is to take the next thirty days and fully evaluate the market. Then present to the Evans International Board if it is more beneficial to buy-out a current company or start up one from scratch.”

  Jeremy nodded. His mind was already reviewing the current market and the merits of both options. Before he got carried away, however, he needed clarification. He didn’t want a handout.

  “One question.”

  “Yes?” Lalita appeared amused.

  “Are you offering me this opportunity because I’m your lover and you need to move me out?”

  “You are being offered this position, by the Board of Evans International, because you’re the best man for the job. I put forward the idea of the spin-off company in order to provide our clients with an additional service. Your name was nominated by others. You’ll swim or sink on your own merit, Jeremy. I will have no input or influence on this venture. Aside from giving you whatever support you ask in an emotional or advisory level in the confines of our own home.”

  “I’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity. Thank you,” Jeremy added.

  “Don’t thank me, thank the Chairman and Board. I’m screwed. Now I have to find a replacement for you too. I should start my own recruitment agency. Thank God I don’t have to find someone of your caliber. I only need somebody capable of liaising between this company and yours.”

  “So I should kiss John, then?”

  “If that’s the relationship you want to start with your new boss.” Lalita looked relieved the conversation had gone well.

  “No, I think I’ll save my affections for my current employer.” Jeremy stared at her lips. Her cheeks turned pink as she read his mind. A flicker of lust sparkled in her eyes. God, he loved this woman.

  Lalita glanced at her watch. “I’m done for today. What do you say we pack up early and celebrate?”

  “That’s why you’re the CEO, you have the best ideas.”

  “It’s not the CEO who wants to celebrate. It’s Jeremy Lakewood’s lover.”

  Jeremy laughed. Lalita was so much more than a lover. He’d have to address that title next. It was time this fling became a marriage.

  Epilogue

  “That has got to be the quickest wedding dress shopping I have ever done,” Julia Evans said.

  Lalita, her sisters, mother, and Eliza Lakewood were sipping champagne in the cozy sitting room at the Evans house.

  “I think it’s beautiful,” Eliza added.

  “I told you I was decisive.” Lalita put up her feet on the coffee table. The wedding outfit, like everything else in the past two months, had fallen into place perfectly.

  “Kind of spoils the fun, don’t you think, buying the first thing you try on,” Jessica complained.

  “I don’t have time to be traipsing around hundreds of shops trying on identical gowns. I do run a company, you know.” The fact that she’d been able to take a Friday afternoon off to go shopping at all had been a minor miracle.

  “What made you decide on a sari rather than the traditional wedding dress?” Jane asked.

  Lalita glanced over at her mother, who nodded.

  “I wanted to acknowledge that part of my heritage.”

  It was also partly due to the fact that Jeremy loved it when she wore a sari. Or, more specifically, he loved unwrapping her from one. He claimed it was the adult version of Christmas morning.

  Lalita explained to her sisters and soon-to-be mother-in-law about her birth mother. Jane and Jessica seemed stunned.

  “Aisha and her husband are coming over for the wedding. I can’t wait for you to meet them,” Lalita finished. She and Jeremy had made a quick trip back to Mumbai three weeks ago to deliver the news of their engagement in person.

  The doorbell rang, and a moment later Jeremy appeared in the room, having been let in by the housekeeper. He kissed his mother on the cheek before sitting next to Lalita. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed each of her fingers, his gaze promising more once they were alone. Lalita had trouble remembering there was anyone else in the room.

  “Honeymoon is all booked. Steve has promised a holiday we’ll never forget.” Jeremy’s husky voice had already transported her to the distant Indonesian island.

  “Three weeks to the wedding. Is there some reason you’re in such a rush?” Jane’s voice broke through Lalita’s daydream.

  “No, Jeremy just doesn’t want to wait. Plus, it was the only two-week break that either of us can take for the next year.”

  “As it is, we are stopping in Chile to check out the new Evans office there and meeting a client of mine in New York,” Jeremy added.

  “Sounds like more business than pleasure. I think I’d have killed Wesley if he had suggested we stop and visit some of his clients while on honeymoon,” Jessica put in.

  “Trust me, there will be plenty of pleasure going on,” Jeremy promised. Lalita’s face burned and her sisters laughed.

  “When do you move into your new house?” Eliza asked.

  With his severance package from Evans, plus his promised bonus from the increase in profits from Asia, Jeremy had surprised Lalita with a three-bedroom house fifteen minutes from their respective offices.

  “I’m moving in next weekend. Lalita insists on waiting until she is Mrs. Lakewood to join me.”

  “Mrs. Evans-Lakewood, don’t you mean,” Lalita reminded him.

  “As long as the missus is in front and Lakewood is in there somewhere, I don’t care,” Jeremy conceded. They usually had this discussion naked in bed.

  “I think you should change your name to Jeremy Evans-Lakewood,” Lalita teased.

  “Now you go too far, woman.” Jeremy pulled her into his lap and kissed her until she was breathless.

  “All right you two, save something for the wedding night.” Eliza’s voice interrupted them.

  The wedding … the fling was indeed flung.

  About the Author

  Alexia used to travel the world, meeting new people, experiencing new sights and tastes. She’s lived in Canada, New Zealand, Australia, England, and France and spent two months in Russia. When
life demanded that she stay rooted in one place, she took to vicarious voyages through the characters she created in her romance novels. Her stories reflect her love of travel and feature locations as diverse as the wind-swept prairies of Canada to the hot and humid jungles of Guyana. To discover other books written by Alexia or read her blog on inspirational destinations, Journey to Love, visit http://Alexia-Adams.com.

  An Inconvenient Love

  Alexia Adams

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Copyright © 2014 by Alexia Adams.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  Published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

  www.crimsonromance.com

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-8330-7

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8330-8

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-8331-5

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8331-5

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © iStockphoto.com/Geber86

  This book is dedicated to my sister-in-law Samantha and my critique partner Ellie Darkins, neither of whom would let me give up on Luca and Sophia.

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to acknowledge the huge contribution of my editor, Julie Sturgeon. You saw the potential in this book and guided me to finding the true story of Luca and Sophia’s love. Your sense of humor and awesome suggestions made the editing process much less painful than it would otherwise have been. You are amazing.

  Thank you, too, Tara Gelsomino, for buying my book, your quick responses to all my queries, and being open to new ideas. It is a pleasure to work with all the staff at Crimson Romance. You have my gratitude.

  And, of course, I have to acknowledge the support of my long-suffering family. I promise I’ll clean the house … as soon as the next book is finished.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  F2. Deal again.

  The workday was endless when your biggest decision was FreeCell or solitaire. Today solitaire was the game of choice, and Sophia was already $830 down. Damn Vegas scoring. At least she didn’t have to worry about anyone knocking at her door to collect that debt.

  The front doorbell buzzed, and she switched the display on her monitor from the game to webcam. Metal chair legs scraping against the wood floor indicated that the elderly porter had been awakened from his nap and was on the way to answer the summons.

  Look up, look up, she mentally willed the man standing at the door, waiting to be let in. Her telepathy not working, she tried adjusting the camera angle to get a better view, but all she could see was the top of his head. Dark hair, that was all. Useless angle, useless camera.

  Not that she held out much hope that he would be worth looking at. The managing partner had mentioned as he passed her desk this morning that an important Italian property developer was coming to meet with him. An image of a short, middle-aged man with a Donald Trump hairstyle came to her mind, and she suppressed a giggle.

  The visitor eventually arrived at the reception area. A Georgian house didn’t lend itself to the most efficient layout for an office. Trying to at least appear busy, Sophia pretended to save a document before turning to greet the man. She looked up, way up. Okay, so not short. And his black, slightly curly hair was brushed back from his face and bore absolutely no resemblance to Donald Trump’s. In fact, her fingers itched to run through it and release the curls further. His strong jaw and Roman nose looked like an advertisement for some amazing facial makeover. Dressed in a dark gray suit, he had an air of power. Even dressed more casually she was sure he would still have an aura of command.

  This was no middle-aged specimen. The man standing before her was definitely in his prime. If he were a steer, he’d have AAA stamped on his left buttock, another image that left her battling the giggles. Until his dark eyes met hers, and all the air was sucked out of her lungs. He was so gorgeous, she clamped her lips together so she didn’t accidently drool on her keyboard.

  “Luca Castellioni to see Walter Bodman.” His deep voice held only a hint of an Italian accent.

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Castellioni. If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll let Mr. Bodman know you’re here.”

  The guest smiled, as if distracted by a pleasant memory, and sat across the room in direct sight of her desk. Her suddenly nervous fingers had to twice dial the senior partner’s secretary, and her voice came out all breathless when she announced the visitor.

  “Mr. Bodman is just finishing up a conference call. He’ll be down shortly.” At least she managed to sound a little normal.

  The enigmatic visitor acknowledged her statement and picked up a magazine from the table next to him. But every time she looked up, he was staring at her rather than reading. He made no effort to look away, and it was Sophia who broke the eye contact each time. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat pounding from across the room. The more she tried to ignore his presence, the more acutely she became aware of his every movement.

  Walter Bodman’s gruff voice booming across the room had never been so welcome. “Luca! Sorry to have kept you waiting. How wonderful to see you again. It’s been what—three years?”

  “Five,” the Italian corrected. “You are doing well. Very nice offices … ” His voice trailed away as he followed his host.

  A sharp stab of pain made Sophia aware she’d been clenching her toes. She kicked off her sensible ballerina flats and dreamed for a moment of the handsome Italian massaging her feet. There was no way she was going to be able to go back to her game of solitaire now.

  Her mobile phone vibrated on the desk beside her. The bank was kindly advising that her account was now down to fourteen pounds fifty pence, and still six days to payday. With the tuition due for the next term of her interior design studies, her finances wouldn’t be much better even after she was paid.

  She logged on to a job finder website, but there wasn’t much call for a receptionist with minimal experience and no real desire to do the job. And none paid more than what she was making now. Her desk phone buzzed, and she shut down the webpage. Might as well do the job she had, rather than worry about the one she couldn’t get.

  An hour later Sophia was transcribing a letter one of the secretaries sent down when a shadow crossed her screen and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A hint of sandalwood and citrus tickled her nose. Looking up, she wasn’t surprised to see the Italian businessman standing at her desk.

  “I look forward to seeing you tonight, Miss Stevens.”

  “I … ah … I … how do you know my name?” She latched onto the first thing that came to mind while she tried to make sense of his words.

  He pointed at the small plaque on her desk with her name inscribed. “Walter has invited me to the company party. I hope we will have the opportunity to talk. Until tonight … ” Turning on his heel, he strode from the room.

  Why would a gorgeous Italian millionaire want to talk to me? Her toes curled again.

  • • •


  Luca entered the marquee in St. James’s Square and searched for Walter. At least that’s what his brain told his eyes to look for. They decided to hunt down the blonde receptionist instead. She was beautiful. But he knew lots of beautiful women. Maybe it was the laughter in her green eyes or the way she’d tried not to notice him that intrigued him. Whatever it was, he couldn’t relax until he spotted her.

  She stood twenty meters away, chatting with a couple of other women, a glass of champagne in her hand. Her simple black dress was elegant and alluring, hugging her curves rather than pushing them up for all to see. His pulse quickened, as it had when he had seen her in the office. Before he could approach her, Walter’s over-loud voice stopped him.

  “Luca, glad you could join us. I want to introduce you to Chet Wilkins, an American business acquaintance. He’s scouting new locations for his boutique hotel chain. He’s looking for rural properties to turn into luxury spas where stressed executives can go to relax. But I’ll let him tell you all the requirements.”

  Walter led him to a tall, thin man in his early sixties, standing beside a woman of similar age who was wearing too little dress and too much makeup. Luca glanced to where Sophia had been chatting, only to find she was no longer with the group of women. Forcing his mind back to business, he smiled at the American couple.

  Thirty minutes later, his smile was strained and he shifted another couple centimeters away from Mrs. Leslie Wilkins. She stood so close, he was in danger of suffocating on her cloying perfume. And he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t by accident she kept brushing his thigh or backside with her hand. Her husband continued to drone on about the ideal properties he was looking for, completely ignoring his wife. Walter had excused himself ten minutes ago, so it was just the three of them, penned into a corner. A waiter passed and Leslie grabbed yet another glass of champagne.