“You’re in my apartment.” Susan leaned over and put her hand on his forehead. “I think you’ll survive.”
“How…how did I get here?”
Susan hesitated. “You called me in the middle of the night and begged me to let you come over.” She trailed a lazy finger along the outline of his mouth, and gave him a suggestive smile. “You said you loved me, remember?”
He tried to think. He could remember the bar and countless double scotches. He saw his clothes neatly folded on a chair. “Did…did we…”
“Did we make love?” There was amusement in her voice.
He waited, dreading the answer.
“You mean to say you don’t remember? And you told me I was the best you ever had.”
He thought of Brigitte suddenly. “My wife…”
“Don’t worry. I have a friend who owed me a favor. He called your wife last night. He told her you had a bit too much to drink and would spend the night at his place. She was very understanding.”
Alex’s eyes slowly focused. Hazily, he realized that Susan Temple was standing naked before him. His eyes roved over her hungrily. Damn, she is beautiful.
Susan pulled the sheet off Alex and looked down at his erection. “Well, well. And what have we here?” she said huskily. “I see you’re feeling much better indeed.”
* * *
Brigitte was in her studio painting. She heard the front door open and a moment later Alex appeared, looking disheveled. She put down her paintbrush. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” she asked. She was doing her best to stay calm.
“No. I’ll just go and take a shower.”
“Alex!” He turned around. “Alex. Is there something we should talk about?”
He shrugged, looking innocent. “Not as far as I know. I’m just going to take a shower. I won’t be long.”
Brigitte watched her husband walk away and suddenly felt cold. She shivered. What is wrong with me? So he went out and got a bit drunk last night. With the problems he has, it’s a wonder he’s holding up this well. Still, somewhere deep inside, she knew there was another problem, one she had no idea how she should handle.
Alex stood under the hot spay, but the shower did nothing to wash away his guilt. If anything, it only made him feel worse. The water helped clear his mind, and he realized the extent of his betrayal. He stepped out of the stall and toweled himself briskly.
What if Brigitte finds out somehow? Where did I put Susan’s telephone number? He riffled through his wallet with guilty paranoia when he suddenly came across Gerald Masson’s business card. He pulled it out and stared at it for a moment as scenes from the evening at Lutèce flashed through his mind.
That arrogant bastard, he thought and threw it into the wastebasket. Then, an idea dawned on him. He fished the card back out and stared at it.
* * *
At the prearranged breakfast meeting the following Friday, Gerald Masson sipped his coffee and studied Alex. He’s nervous, he thought as he noted the forced smile and the tightness in the younger man’s voice. I wonder what he wants from me.
Alex talked on. “This is the coldest August that I remember in years. I bet the leaves will be turning red by the end of the—”
“I’m sure you didn’t ask for a meeting with me to discuss the weather,” Gerald interrupted suddenly.
Alex stopped in midsentence. “No. You’re right.” He pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and set them on the table. “You told me you were always looking solid for real estate investments. I’ve decided to let you take a look at these.”
Gerald listened as Alex explained the projects, showing plans and projections, and then he said, “Wait a minute.” He leaned forward and stared Alex in the eye. “You’re telling me that both projects are gold mines, but if they are as good as you say, what the hell do you need me for?” He leaned back against his chair again, drumming his fingers on the table. “Why don’t you tell me the whole story? You know I’ll find out sooner or later. If you want me to do business with you, you had better tell me yourself.”
Alex smiled and spread his hands open in a helpless gesture. “There’s only one thing we don’t have. Unless we can come up with enough working capital to tide us over the next few months, the banks will foreclose.” Even now, as he admitted to his precarious position, Alex’s whole attitude was one of confidence.
The guy’s got nerves of steel. Gerald lifted an eyebrow. “How much?”
“One quarter of a million dollars.”
Gerald let out a low whistle. “Doesn’t sound like such a great deal to me.”
Alex shook his head. “But in reality, it won’t cost you a dime. All we need is your guarantee as financial backer.”
“If I understand correctly, that’s the offer you made McGregor, and look at the position he’s in now.”
“There’s one big difference between McGregor and you. McGregor sank everything he had into his project. If he loses, he loses everything. You, on the other hand, will lose nothing. The worst that could happen to you is that you could be forced to take over both our projects. And that,” concluded Alex, “would mean even greater profits for you in the long run.”
Gerald thought quickly. All he could think about was Brigitte. She reminds me so much of Kate, he thought sadly. If her husband’s projects go belly up, what will happen to her? He was almost tempted to let this brash young man sink on the chance that bankruptcy might make Brigitte leave him. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew she was loyal and would stand by her husband, even if it meant hardship for her. He chased the idea from his mind and tried to concentrate on what Alex was saying.
“I wouldn’t have come to you if the problem was that alone,” Alex was saying. “But, Andrew McGregor stands to lose the most,” repeated Alex.
“I understand.” Gerald’s mind kept working furiously. He wished there was some way he could come to the aid of Brigitte without committing himself financially to her husband. In the end, to let him down was to let her down, and that was as impossible as it would have been to refuse Kate.
By the time Alex had finished outlining his proposal, Gerald had made up his mind.
“Okay,” he said with a curt nod. “Now let’s just hope McGregor cooperates.”
* * *
Chapter 6
Later that evening, Gerald stopped by Natalia’s. He found the heavy actress lying on her taffeta sofa in her sunroom with her Abyssinian cat on her lap and a plate of chocolate-covered cherries at hand’s reach on the occasional table.
“Have a cherry,” Natalia offered.
“No, thanks,” he said, and mixed himself a drink at the bar while Natalia set the plate back down and took a handful of the chocolates. She ate quietly as she listened to Gerald’s account of the meeting, and she shook her head in amazement when he told her of his decision.
“Let me get this straight. You agreed to back Alex Ivanov because his wife reminds you of Kate?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied Gerald vehemently and took another swig of his gin and tonic. “One thing has nothing to do with the other. Alex’s project is sound.”
Natalia leaned back on her sofa and studied him closely as he nervously fiddled with his drink and avoided her gaze. “You may be able to fool yourself, Gerald Masson, but don’t imagine for one minute that you are fooling me. You are in love with Brigitte, aren’t you?”
Gerald’s eyebrows shot up. “In love with…? Really, Natalia, sometimes you surprise even me with your silly ideas.” He took another long swallow to avoid the look she gave him. There’s no way she believes me.
* * *
Four days later in the prestigious offices of Maxwell, Maxwell & Hawthorn, Attorneys at Law, all the legal papers pertaining to the deal were duly signed and notarized. Anthony Maxwell Senior handed each of the three men their copy of the agreement.
Maxwell explained. “As of this moment, you are partners. Mr. Ivanov, you own fifty-one percent of the company. The remaining shar
es are divided equally between Mr. McGregor and Mr. Masson.” He smiled benignly and continued. “May your new company prosper.” Almost as an afterthought, he asked, “What have you decided to call your company?”
For a moment nobody spoke. They had been too busy working out the deal to even think about what to name the newly formed company.
“Power Properties,” said Alex suddenly. The name just popped into his mind.
Maxwell nodded. “Good name.”
“When it comes to power,” added Alex, “a company can never have too much.”
* * *
Later that evening, as the three new partners walked out of the bar of The Pierre Hotel where they had been quietly celebrating, a pretty blonde woman at a table near the entrance turned sharply and watched them leave.
“What’s the matter, babe?” her drunken companion asked sullenly. “You see someone you’d rather be with?”
“You are so cute when you’re jealous,” answered Anne Turner sweetly as she gave her companion’s thigh a squeeze under the tablecloth. “Just someone I thought I recognized. I was wrong. The guy I knew wouldn’t have the bucks to get into a place like this.” She stuck out her bottom lip in a petulant pout and leaned closer to him. “Come on, baby, tell me you love me.”
Her partner hesitated, but only a moment. “You know I’m crazy about you, Anne.”
Anne Turner laughed. “You really are, aren’t you?” He nodded. “So what are going to do about it?” she asked suddenly serious.
“W-what do you mean?”
She shrugged. “It seems very simple to me. I love you. You love me. Like the song goes, ‘Love and marriage, baby, they go together like a horse and carriage.’”
She gave him a serious look, but he seemed nervous. To make him feel a little better, she slowly moved her hand to his crotch.
“Don’t you agree?” she asked. Meanwhile, her fingers found the zipper and tugged. He moaned. “So when do you think we should do it?” She smiled, slipping her hand into his shorts.
Again, he took a moment to spit out the words. He nodded weakly. “You got me by the balls, babe.”
* * *
Chapter 7
According to the terms of the agreement, Andrew McGregor’s housing project became a part of Power Properties, of which Alex Ivanov was president. The way Alex looked at it, he had done nothing wrong. He had saved Andrew from certain disaster. As for Gerald Masson, whatever investment the man had made into the company would be repaid tenfold.
Alex was convinced that Power Properties would someday be a major real estate company. In fact, as far as he was concerned, he had done both men a favor, and he walked around with his chest out and head high. It was a situation the two vice-presidents openly resented but had no choice but to tolerate. After all, they had agreed to his terms.
Alex embraced his role of leader with enthusiasm. Every day he arrived at work filled with ideas. In exchange for free advertising, he made arrangements with a prestigious furniture store to decorate the model suite of both the newly renovated apartment building and the now completed housing project.
Next, he approached a financing company and convinced them to give the buyers of his co-ops a reduced mortgage rate. In return, the lenders were guaranteed all of Power Properties’ business. Following this, he bought a full-page advertisement in the New York Times, offering rebates on all units sold before the end of the month. Sales figures soared.
He incessantly coordinated the schedule of construction crews so that every step of the project was completed quickly.
“Time is money,” he repeated constantly. Behind his back, workers nudged each other and rolled their eyes every time they heard those words.
His ideas, which originally had been met with resistance by his partners, proved to be brilliant, and soon both the housing and the co-op project were sold out. Andrew and Gerald had no choice but to grudgingly admit that Alex Ivanov knew what he was doing, and that maybe, just maybe, the deal Alex Ivanov had rammed down their throats would work out to their advantage.
* * *
Unbeknownst to Alex, Gerald kept a keen eye on him as he continued his flagrant affair. He waited in silence. Surely Brigitte would find out, and when she did, that would be the end of the marriage. Wouldn’t it? Gerald hated keeping this knowledge to himself—knowing what Alex was doing to Brigitte turned his stomach. If he said anything, however, Alex could ruin him.
* * *
Susan Temple looked out from the window of the trailer at the finished co-op building. She had just sold the last unit, and though she had fulfilled her contract and was fifty thousand dollars richer, she was without a job. She feared she might also be without a lover.
In the ten months since her affair with Alex had started, she had fallen madly in love with him. Her constant hope had been that he would leave his wife and marry her. Sadly, as time went by and Alex made no mention of that possibility, she had come to recognize her dream had little chance of becoming reality. Susan also knew any effort on her part to force Alex to choose between Brigitte and herself would only push him away.
When she first began to work for Alex, she did everything humanly possible to make him love her. All to no avail. One night, depressed and angry at the world, she had gone out to a bar with the intention of getting piss drunk. With any luck, that might help her get at least one good night’s sleep.
To her immense surprise, the first person she saw when she got there was Alex, sitting at the bar, swallowing one scotch after another. Not one to stand by idly, Susan decided to give Fate a hand, and many double scotches later, when Alex finally stumbled out of the bar, she offered him a ride.
She helped him in the car and drove him to her apartment where he immediately passed out. The next morning when she realized that he remembered nothing of the previous evening, she knew that once again, luck was on her side.
“And you said I was the best you ever had,” she told him, standing naked before him. She watched his eyes change from disbelief to lust.
That had been the beginning of the affair. She closed her eyes and stifled a sob as a wave of almost unbearable sorrow shot through her body.
From then on, they had been lovers. For a time, that had been enough, but no longer. Every time Alex made love to her only to rush out minutes later leaving her feeling miserable, she died a little more inside. It was a situation she couldn’t tolerate one minute longer. Yet the thought of ending the relationship made her feel even worse.
I’m so stupid. I should have known he’d never leave his wife, she thought and the sharp pain came back. But I can’t live without him. I’ve got to find a way. If only his wife would leave him.
Once the idea began to form, she couldn’t put it out of her mind. For a long time, she remained at her desk, thinking. Then she turned away from the window, and picked up the telephone.
* * *
In her studio, Brigitte put the telephone back in its cradle and looked at Réjeanne. “That’s strange,” she said. “Alex never mentioned any celebration.”
“It seems to me that Alex doesn’t seem to mention much of anything lately, or am I wrong?” said Réjeanne as she set a cup of coffee on the table next to the easel.
“Oh, Réjeanne, you shouldn’t criticize him. You know the poor man is just busy. He has so many things to worry about.”
“He should spend more time at home, if you ask me. He comes in at all hours of the night, and if by some grace of God he is here, he’s preoccupied. He never spends any time with you and David anymore.”
“Now that the projects are over, things will change, you’ll see. That was his sales manager on the phone. They’re having a small celebration at the office later tonight. He wants me to come. So you see, he does think about me, doesn’t he?”
“He didn’t even call you himself.”
“Réjeanne! What’s wrong with you? I thought you liked Alex.”
“I do like him. But ever since you’ve started painting again
, he’s changed. I think he doesn’t like that you’re pursuing your own career.”
Brigitte struggled to keep her smile from slipping. Réjeanne was right, and she knew it. “I was already a successful artist in Paris when he met me. He can’t expect me to give up everything.”
Réjeanne shook her head. “No man wants to share his wife with her career. Have you ever thought of that?”
Brigitte nodded. “Yes. I have. But what can I do? David is at school all day. Alex is busy running his company, and you take care of the apartment. Nobody needs me. I love painting. If I don’t paint, I’ll go crazy.”
Réjeanne was quiet for a moment. “What would you do if you had to choose between your marriage and your career?”
Brigitte couldn’t bring herself to answer.
Later that evening, Brigitte applied her makeup meticulously and slipped into a new dress. Alex loves me. I just have to be more attentive to him. She climbed into a cab and gave the directions to the co-op project. Twenty minutes later, she stepped out and headed for the trailer. That’s strange. All the lights are out.
At the door of the trailer, she stopped for a second. She could hear movement inside, and something that sounded like moaning.
Mon Dieu, someone is hurt. She pulled the door open and walked in. In the dim light, she could see two bodies intertwined on the couch. The way they were moving left no doubt to her imagination. What…? Her hand flew to her mouth, strangling the cry in her throat. She turned and ran.
Scorpio Series Boxed Set Page 29