Yet, there was another part of me that wanted him badly, totally negating the whole women’s rights issue. I wanted to be harassed by Alexander Stone, despite all of his irritating qualities. I was flattered that this mega-rich, ultra sexy, walking god wanted me. It was a thrilling, heady feeling that I just wanted to savor.
But I was very afraid of him, too.
I was terrified of getting sucked back into a world that I had shunned for so long. I was still haunted by my past with Trevor. And although I had worked tirelessly to rebuild my independence and self-respect, I knew that I had allowed a man to break me once before. I could not let it happen to me again, or I’d risk jeopardizing everything that I worked so hard to overcome.
However, I felt there was something different about Alexander Stone – somehow I knew that he would not be like Trevor. It was a feeling deep inside me, a yearning that I didn’t completely understand.
Alexander may be rich and powerful, but that wasn’t why I was drawn to him. He sparked an unfamiliar level of awareness in me. I wanted to give myself up to him from the moment I first laid eyes on him. These newfound feelings were very uncharacteristic for me, and I didn’t know what to do about it.
I think for tonight, the only thing I can do is be careful, play it cool, and let him take the lead.
When I finally reached my apartment, I was grateful to find that Allyson wasn’t home. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to my friend; I just needed to sort out a few things for myself before facing her. I wanted a little time alone to mentally prepare myself for anything Alexander threw my way.
The man is full of surprises, but at least I know his true intentions now.
I went into my bedroom, turned on the radio, and looked for something to wear to dinner tonight. I wasn’t sure where we were going and I didn’t know how to dress.
Casual? Semi-casual?
I wished that Alexander had been a little more specific when he issued his commands.
I eyed up a red faux leather-trimmed skirt. The skirt was flattering on me with its subtle flirty pleats. If I wore it with my white cashmere sweater and some strappy heals, I could make the outfit look casual or dressy depending on the environment. I pulled the sweater and skirt out of the closet and laid them flat on the bed to see how they would look together.
Yep, this will work perfectly.
Singing along with Lana Del Ray, I turned up the volume on the radio before heading to the bathroom to take a shower.
I contemplated whether or not I should shave my legs. I knew what Allyson would say.
If I shave, I’m planning on sex.
I considered the little skirt that I was planning to wear.
I would have to shave if I am going to wear that.
With that rationale in mind, I began to work a foamy lather over my legs. But as I ran the razor over my knee, Alexander’s words played over and over again in my head.
Preferably naked.
I felt a little twist in my gut. He definitely wanted me – it was no longer just something that my imagination had drummed up. I wasn’t just shaving because I was going to wear a skirt. My legs were fine for appearance purposes, but they certainly weren’t baby smooth.
Who am I kidding? I’m shaving just in case.
My heart skipped a beat as trepidation enveloped me. If confronted with sex, I wasn’t sure if I could physically go through with it. Knowing full well that the decision to have sex was ultimately up to me, I stopped mid-shave and tried not to worry about what was to come.
I’m putting the cart before the horse. I need to just relax.
I quickly finished in the shower and got dressed. Then I began the laboring process of taming my hair. I thought about just throwing it up in a clip, but then I remembered Alexander saying that my hair was too restricted on the day of my interview. Little alarm bells went off, heightening my already skittish nerves.
Trevor told me how to wear my hair.
“Stop it, Cole!” I exclaimed out loud to my reflection in the mirror. Comparing the two men would get me nowhere, and I fought to shake off my unease.
Alexander didn’t tell me how to style my hair. He only expressed his preference.
I left my hair down and ignored the badgering warnings that were running rampant through my mind.
As I was applying the finishing touches to my makeup, I heard a commotion in the kitchen. Tossing my lipstick in my purse, I went out to see what it was. I walked into the kitchen and saw grocery bags piled high on the island. Allyson was pulling a bunch of pots and pans from the cabinet. She had a guy with her, too. They were laughing over something and Allyson lightly swatted her guest on the shoulder.
Perfect – she’ll be too distracted to ask me a lot of questions.
“Hey, you!” she said when she saw me. “I hope you’re hungry. Jeremy is making Chinese.”
This must be Allyson’s infamous photographer…
I gave him a quick once over. He appeared to be just shy of six feet and had an athletic build. His copper hair was streaked from the sun and his face was tan. He looked like he spent a lot of time outdoors.
“I don’t want to intrude on the two of you, but thanks anyways. Besides, I already have dinner plans for tonight. So you’re Jeremy,” I greeted in a rush, and reached across the island to shake his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Kyrs.”
“Hi, Krys. I’ve heard –,” Jeremy started.
“You have dinner plans?” Allyson questioned in surprise, interrupting our introductions.
Damn!
Nothing slid by her.
“Yeah. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course it’s okay, but who are you going out with?” she pressed suspiciously, eying up my attire for the first time.
Pushy, pushy.
“I ran into Alexander Stone this afternoon at Café La Biga. He asked me to join him for dinner tonight. It’s no big deal, really. We are just going to discuss the job thing again.”
I deliberately left out the part about his other proposition.
“You’re joking, right?” Her face creased into a frown. “I thought you said that Stone was an asshole.”
“He is, but I’m not doing myself any good by staying angry. I need a job so I’m willing to hear him out,” I replied awkwardly. I tried to act like the dinner was no big deal, but I was failing miserably. I could feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. There was no fooling Allyson.
“What about that chic? You know, the one with the black hair,” she reminded me subtly, attempting to disguise her obvious concern by needlessly rearranging the groceries on the counter.
“Oh, that was just his sister,” I said with a dismissive wave. Allyson stopped her pointless organization and narrowed her eyes doubtfully at me.
Oh, Ally! Don’t make me explain it in front of your boyfriend!
I threw her a warning look, slightly shaking my head back and forth, just hoping that she’d leave it alone for now. Before she could remark, Jeremy chimed into the conversation, effectively saving me from one hell of a complicated explanation.
“Wait a minute – you’re going out with the Alexander Stone? As in ‘Stone Arena’ Alexander Stone?” He was looking back and forth between Allyson and me with a look of total disbelief on his face.
“What’s Stone Arena?” Allyson asked, looking to me. I shrugged and looked to Jeremy, waiting for him to elaborate.
Jeremy threw his hands up in exasperation.
“Stone Arena is only the first Major League Soccer complex to hit New York!” He muttered something about women and sports, but I didn’t quite catch it. “Stone’s been pushing for this for years. It was finally just approved and he earned the naming rights.”
Was everything in this city named after him?
“Yep, sounds like the same Alexander,” I said. Thankful that Jeremy had distracted Allyson from her questioning, I walked towards the front door, hoping that I could just slip out. “I don’t really know much about soccer. However, I d
o know that my ride is probably here.”
“Wait! Where are you going to eat? And are you taking a cab?” Allyson asked, quickly remembering her interrogation.
“I don’t know where we’re going, mom. He didn’t tell me,” I said sarcastically, pausing by the door. “And, no – I’m not taking a cab. Alexander sent a car for me.”
“A car? Now that’s impressive,” she said, her voice awestricken, completely ignoring the derisive comment that I threw at her. “Promise me that we’ll talk later? I want a full report.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. You’ll get the specifics. Oh, and I shouldn’t be out too late,” I added and raised an eyebrow at Allyson to make sure she caught the silent meaning behind my words. Telling her that I would be home early was code from our college days – I didn’t want to come home to find her bare-assed on the couch with Jeremy.
“Gotcha,” she said with a knowing wink. “We’re probably going to catch a movie later, so I might not be here when you get back.”
“No problem. You guys have a good night.”
“You too. Have fun and be careful,” she warned, worry lines spreading over her face.
“I always am. Bye!” I yelled over my shoulder and closed the door behind me.
CHAPTER 12
When I exited my apartment complex, Alexander’s driver stood waiting for me outside of a black Porsche Cayenne. I approached him and I attempted to introduce myself, but he just gave me a curt nod as a way of greeting and motioned for me to get inside the awaiting car.
He was sort of intimidating in an ex-military kind of way, and didn’t strike me as much of a talker. He wore a fancy earpiece on his ear that reminded me of the Secret Service and I was afraid to even talk, much less ask him where we were going.
So instead, I sat in silence while we weaved in and out of the New York City traffic, having no idea where he was taking me.
When we arrived at our destination, the driver still didn’t speak, but merely opened the door of the car for me. I stepped out onto the pavement and he walked me towards the entrance of a no-named building. I might have been worried about the nondescript place, but I saw lights on in the windows and a polished bar that gleamed under muted lighting. For some reason, I found these little signs of life comforting.
The front door of the building opened suddenly, and a stocky man with curly dark hair stepped out.
“Ah, finally! You are here! Come in, come in please!” the man said with a slight Italian accent. His hands were waving in the air, motioning for me to get inside. His gestures seemed panicked almost, yet he wore a friendly smile on his handsome face. I could only raise my eyebrows in surprise at his overexcited presence. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.
I looked behind me, but the silent driver had disappeared back inside the SUV, leaving me little choice but to follow the animated Italian through the front doors.
“My name is Matteo Donati. I will be serving you tonight,” he called over his shoulder, walking briskly ahead of me. He was moving quickly and I struggled to keep up with him, barely managing to stay vertical in my strappy little four-inch heels. I was already beginning to regret the risk that I took by wearing them.
“Hi, Matteo. I’m Krys– .”
“Hurry along. Mr. Stone is waiting,” he said, completely cutting me off.
Heaven forbid we keep Stone waiting.
I followed the practically running Matteo through the vacant restaurant, as if I was late for some monumental event. I truly felt like Alice must have on her adventure into Wonderland, except I was chasing an Italian rather than a white rabbit in to an unfamiliar place.
The restaurant was eerily quiet, and obviously not opened for business. I found myself wishing that Alexander’s driver were still here. Ironically, I began to feel nervous over the absence of the brooding man. It was almost like he was my protection in this deserted place. Chairs were flipped up on the tables and there wasn’t a soul in sight. The lighting from the pendant fixtures was dim, revealing half finished decorations and empty curtain rods. The shelves behind the bar looked like they had only been partially stocked. The only clue that I would be eating dinner here came from the delicious smell that wafted out of the kitchen, a mouth-watering aroma of garlic and sage.
Matteo paused in an open doorway off of the main dining area, giving me a moment to catch up to him. When I reached his side, he took hold of my elbow and escorted me into an intimately furnished room with soft guitar music playing overhead. At first glance, the room appeared to be set up for small banquets. But upon closer inspection, I realized that this wasn’t your normal run of the mill banquet room. The furnishings reeked exclusiveness, the setting more appropriate for high-ticketed private gatherings.
Alexander Stone sat alone at a candlelit table set for two. As I made my way towards him, I was suddenly overcome with anxious jitters and my palms began to sweat. I couldn’t fathom why I was suddenly so nervous.
He’s just a man sitting at a table.
But then again, Alexander wasn’t just anything.
He stood and pulled a chair out for me. I gave him a quick once over. He was killer as usual, in khaki pants and a charcoal gray poplin button down.
“Good evening, Krystina.”
“Mr. Stone,” I greeted politely, discretely wiping my damp palms on my skirt.
I tried to sit down gracefully and make myself comfortable in the offered chair, but it was hard to feel relaxed under his watchful eyes.
“I take it that you’ve met Matteo already,” Alexander assumed, reclaiming his seat across from me.
“Yes. He was at the door when I arrived,” I said and gave Matteo a nod of thanks.
“Krystina,” Matteo said and bowed before me, taking me by surprise. He took hold of my hand, placed a feathery kiss on the backside of it, and murmured something in what I recognized as Italian. Then he looked back up at Alexander, his expression coy, and said, “I think we have finally found a name for my place!”
Alexander smirked at him and shook his head back and forth.
“It appears that you have yourself a fan club, Krystina,” Alexander said dryly.
Matteo let out a boisterous laugh and released my hand.
“No worries, no worries! It was only an observation,” he assured. “Now, mi scusi. I must go see to your antipasti,” Matteo declared with a loud clap of his hands and hurried from the room.
I couldn’t help but laugh at his overly flamboyant performance, despite the fact that I was totally confused by their interaction.
“What did he say?” I asked Alexander, curious about what Matteo had said in his native tongue that had Alexander looking so thoroughly annoyed.
“That you are a beautiful lady,” he answered, his eyes softening as he regarded me. “You really are very beautiful, Krystina.”
His voice was tender, all of the irritation with Matteo diminished.
I wasn’t so sure that ‘beautiful’ was a word I would use to describe myself, and I felt a red glow begin to blossom on my cheeks.
“I love that you blush so easily. It’s refreshing.”
I’m glad you’re into the whole red in the face thing – I despise it!
Rather than give a voice to my embarrassment, I chose to cast my gaze down towards my lap and focus my attention on the soft melody that was playing overhead. I used the guitar’s wide acoustical range as a distraction from my reddened face. I found the music to be calming, yet seductive at the same time.
I peered at Alexander through lowered lashes only to find that he was still watching me. His stare was doing nothing to cool the mortifying flames that refused to leave my cheeks.
“This music is lovely,” I finally said, attempting to break his unnerving observation.
“I thought it might appeal to you. It’s a guitar compellation by Tadeusz Machalski.”
“I never heard of him.”
“No, I don’t imagine you would have. I stumbled upon him playing in the streets of
Venice a few years back. I listened to him play for hours before I finally bought one of his CD’s.”
“Venice, Italy?”
“The one and only,” he confirmed with a smile.
“Wow, I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” I said enviously.
“Maybe I’ll take you one day.”
He said it casually, while assessing me with those irresistible sapphire blues. His ability to constantly take me by surprise was astounding and I struggled not to look like a gaping fish while I digested his words.
Vacationing in Italy with Alexander Stone?
I hated to admit it, but the idea sounded appealing.
Don’t even go there. Bad idea.
“What is this restaurant?” I asked, choosing not to explore that avenue of conversation. “I didn’t see a name outside.”
“That’s because it doesn’t have one yet. Although, it seems like Matteo might have an idea now,” he said dryly, a frown returning to his face.
“This is Matteo’s restaurant? I thought that this might be your place,” I mused.
“Hell, no!” he exclaimed, and let out a loud genuine laugh.
It was a full, throaty sound that was pleasant to my ears. It made him seem more human, and not so much like the heavenly Adonis that he normally portrayed. His laughter was contagious and I found myself smiling.
And for the first time since my arrival, I relaxed a bit.
“Why do you say it like that? Why not own a restaurant?”
He seems to have a hand in just about everything else in this city.
“Restaurants aren’t my thing. Way too much stress. Like I said before, real estate is what I do. I just own this building. Matteo is the crazy one. If he wants to tackle the food business, more power to him. He’s been after me to come down to try some of his dishes before the grand opening,” he told me, reaching for a bottle of cabernet sauvignon. “I thought this would be the perfect time to take him up on his offer. Plus, I wanted a bit of privacy tonight so that we could talk freely during our meeting.”
A meeting, huh? Okay. I’ll play along.
I studied him carefully as he poured the deep red into two bordeaux glasses. I tried to get a read on what he was thinking, but as usual, his expression was guarded and I got nothing. I accepted the glass that he held out for me.
Heart of Stone Page 11