“I was taking a little time to enjoy the view,” she finally said.
“Well, who the hell are you, Barbara Walters?” Leonora asked, easing her flask back inside her Louis Vuitton tote.
Alessandra just laughed as she turned back to head to her car. “Roje, let’s get these people to their rooms,” she said, her tone amused.
He chuckled. “Right away.”
She picked up her iPad from the seat beside her, settling back as she continued to prep for her presentation at the board meeting.
“You’re ready, you know.”
Alessandra looked up to find Roje’s dark eyes on her in the rearview mirror. “I wish I was sure about that.”
“Your father was sure,” Roje said. “Trust and believe in that.”
Her emotions swelled inside her like a crescendo and she shifted her eyes away. “Yes, he did, didn’t he?” she asked with the hint of a smile.
Roje said nothing else. He didn’t need to. His words were few but meaningful. He had been her father’s driver for many years and he knew both Frances Dalmount and his daughter very well. There was a lot to learn from the front seat of a chauffeured car by a man willing to listen.
Alessandra closed the cover of her iPad and slid it into the side pocket of her alligator Saint Laurent Sac de Jour bag. It was her first visit to the luxury castle resort, and during the two hour drive the gradual transformation from urban landscapes to acres of forest had been surreal. It was a decided change from the tall skyscrapers and frenetic pace of Manhattan.
She was looking forward to the weekend of activities and relaxation. The last five years had moved with a speed that left her bone-tired and weary at night, with her shoes kicked off and her feet up on the antique French provincial table. Some celebrating and taking some time to slow down and enjoy life wouldn’t be a bad thing at all.
But first, let’s get this business out of the way...
As Roje turned the Jaguar up the stone driveway, it was hard not to be impressed by the grandeur, scope and size of the resort. It was a gem in the ADG portfolio, and Alessandra could admit she was pleased with Alek’s choice to hold their festivities there.
She slid on her shades and climbed from the car with Roje’s assistance. She glanced at her watch and looked up. Her eyes widened a bit at the sight of Alek and his equally handsome brother helping his mother and sister from the rear of a black Maybach 62. She’d never seen him in casual clothing, and the dark blue button-up shirt he wore with distressed denims and brown burnished leather drivers looked really good against his chocolate complexion. His aviator shades shielded his expression from her when he looked up and saw her, but he stared for a long enough moment to make her gasp softly.
She looked away first.
Alessandra was surprised to discover that Roje still stood behind her. It wasn’t like him to linger. She followed his line of vision to find his eyes resting on LuLu Ansah, Alek’s mother, who looked stunning in a deep purple wrap shirt paired with white linen pants. A woman it would be hard to tell was in her midfifties, she always had a regal air about her that Alessandra found fascinating, and her head wrap in colors of purple and gold seemed like a crown on her head.
“Everything okay, Roje?” Alessandra asked, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
He cleared his throat and stroked his mouth and white goatee with a hand before turning his attention to the Jaguar and finally getting in and closing the door.
“Alessandra, it’s really nice to see you again.”
She faced Alek and his family walking up to her. Out of respect for his mother, she stepped forward to meet them halfway. “Thank you, Ms. Ansah. It’s good to see to you,” she said warmly, pressing a kiss to both of the woman’s cheeks and ignoring Alek standing beside his mother and staring at her.
Alessandra remembered his frustration with her just the day before and hoped it didn’t linger. A weekend of Alek scowling at her at every turn would just ruin the entire celebration. As would the board voting to implement his acquisition.
She smiled and nodded at both Samira and Naim, both standing there looking like models in a Gucci magazine ad. “Alek,” she said, acknowledging him.
He leaned forward to press his lips to her cheeks. “How are you, Alessandra?” he asked.
She covered her surprise as his well-groomed beard tickled her face a bit. “I’m good, and you?” she asked, her tone polite.
LuLu chuckled. “You two are a mess, but your politeness is very civilized,” she said, her accent heavy.
Alek leaned back from her. “I’ll make sure the rooms are ready,” he said, looking back at his brother. “Come on, Naim.”
Samira stepped forward, looking pretty in a peach strapless sundress. “I am very impressed by you, Ms. Dalmount,” she said.
“Call me Alessandra,” she offered. “We’re not that far apart in age.”
She shrugged one mahogany-brown shoulder. “But you are in profession, so it doesn’t seem that way,” Samira said, easing her thick straight hair over the other shoulder.
Alessandra was confused by that statement and it reflected on her face.
Samira smiled, showing a deep dimple in her left cheek. “My brother won’t allow me to work for the company as a relative,” she said, her annoyance displayed in her tone if not in her eyes.
“That sounds about right,” Alessandra said lightly, not wanting to fuel a family disagreement even as her own annoyance at Alek’s chauvinistic beliefs surfaced.
“Perhaps you can give me the chance he won’t,” she said, her eyes serious as she reached out to hand Alessandra a thick cream envelope.
She took it from her, looking down at the woman’s name embossed in gold.
“My résumé,” Samira said.
Alessandra looked back up at her. She was no more than twenty-one or twenty-two, but she was everything Alessandra pretended to be, particularly fearless. At Samira’s continued silence, Alessandra looked to her mother to gauge her take on her daughter’s open defiance of Alek.
Ms. Ansah stood there with them, but her attention was elsewhere.
Alessandra glanced over her shoulder.
Roje stood there, a respectful distance back from them, and LuLu’s eyes were on him.
She turned back to Samira, leaving them to whatever business they were creating. “I’m not sure what I can do, but I will look this over, maybe make some recommendation to colleagues in the industry,” she said.
Samira shook her head. “I want to work for the firm my grandfather created from nothing and my father helped shape into a billion-dollar corporation,” she said. “I want in at ADG.”
The glass ceiling was still in full effect in corporate America, particularly for women of color. Even with the past advancements of CEOs like Rosalind Brewer at Starbucks, Ursula Burns at Xerox, Indra Nooyi at PepsiCo, Debra Lee at BET, and now herself at ADG, Alessandra realized she had joined an unspoken club of unicorns who were able to excel in spite of adversity.
Her own time at ADG had not been easy, but she was well aware in the current corporate climate that she still had not put in the work of her peers. Nepotism could not be denied as having some role in her success, nor could her business acumen.
Not in Alek’s or Naim’s careers, either, though.
Didn’t Samira deserve the same?
Alessandra stiffened her back and squared her shoulders as she extended her hand to the younger woman. “Let me see what I can do,” she said.
“That’s all I ask,” Samira said.
“Okay, ladies, I have to prepare for a board meeting,” she said, giving Samira’s hand a squeeze.
LuLu was now refocused on them, but her eyes were distant, as if she wished to be somewhere else.
Alessandra glanced back to find Roje supervising the removal of her luggage from the Jaguar. He
r family’s drivers had already done so and were gone, with her family now entering the resort. Alessandra turned to do the same, tucking Samira’s envelope inside her tote.
“Yes, let’s go inside,” Samira said, following Alessandra.
LuLu followed behind them. “I didn’t eat breakfast and I could eat something,” she said, sounding distracted.
“The food is supposed to be delicious,” she said, turning to glance back just as Ms. Ansah and Roje lightly touched hands as she passed by him.
“I love my brother, Alessandra,” Samira said, as they crossed the lobby. “But good luck.”
“Thank you,” Alessandra returned earnestly, turning away from the small but telling moment.
* * *
Alek was in his element as he ran across the red clay tennis courts to swing his racket with force and accuracy to lob the ball. The onlookers applauded as the ball shot over his opponent and landed inside the line for the win. He raised his racket high above his head and balled his free hand into a fist to pump the air vigorously as he raced up the court.
Garrison Wyndham let out a shout of frustration as he spun his racket, coming up to the net. “Good win, Alek,” he said, sweat plastering his blond hair to his head. “That wasn’t retaliation for the board meeting, was it?”
Alek smiled as they shook hands. “Maybe a little,” he joked, accepting the monogrammed towel from a middle-school-aged ball boy. “A win is a win, and I needed one after that loss a couple of days ago.”
Garrison wiped his face and neck, leveling blue eyes on Alek. “It wasn’t a loss, Alek. You both had strong presentations and the votes were evenly split, leaving it at a standoff.”
Alek just shrugged as he wrapped the towel around his neck and tucked the ends inside the V-neck of his T-shirt. “It may be time to push the board to vote on her removal.”
“Or you both can do what we suggested, in the tradition of the compromise for which your fathers were known, and decide together whose plan goes forward,” Garrison offered.
“I’m going to shower and then get some lunch,” Alek said, now done with the conversation. “See you at the ball?”
Garrison nodded, acknowledging the abrupt change in conversation. “My wife and I are taking the kids kayaking. They’re disappointed the ball is adult only.”
“Enjoy,” he said, forcing warmth into his voice.
He wasn’t angry about the board’s decision and didn’t want to appear that way.
“We will,” Garrison said before walking away.
Alek turned and followed suit. He smiled when Millicent came through the plexiglass gate of the glass fence surrounding one of the eight tennis courts on the property. Onlookers sat at wrought iron tables enjoying the game or just having lunch in the floral settings.
He shoved his racket inside the bag and zipped it as he smiled at her in welcome. He’d known her since her modeling days in Paris and they’d dated often. When he learned she had moved to New York he decided to reconnect with the beauty and invite her as his date for just the ball. He was pleased she agreed because he didn’t want the constraint of having a date there for the entire four-day weekend.
“Congratulations, Alek,” she called over to him, looking like pure sunshine in the yellow sundress she wore with her reddish-brown hair blowing in the wind behind her.
His smile faded. Over Millicent’s shoulder he spotted Alessandra walking onto the court followed by her date. His jaw clenched and the heat of jealousy burned his gut when she looked up at the man and laughed with such abandon that she seemed to radiate. The very presence of the man had irked his spirit since he first learned of his arrival the night before.
He had been distracted with the thought of them sharing her double-level suite until he checked with the front desk to ensure he had his own room. Ownership had its privileges.
He took in the sight of her in a white halter tennis tank that showed just a sliver of skin at her waist and a matching skirt with a hem that cut right across the top of her shapely thighs. That tiny sliver and the length of her legs was enough for him to overlook Millicent crossing the court to reach him until she was standing directly in front of him.
He jumped in surprise as she pressed a kiss to his cheek above his beard. “When did you get in?” he asked.
“This morning,” she said.
“You like your room?” he asked.
“And all of the amenities,” she said with a coy smile. “I had a stone massage and a facial that was absolutely beyond anything I’ve ever had. Kudos to the owner.”
“You mean co-owner.”
Alek’s and Alessandra’s eyes locked over Millicent’s shoulder before she turned around. “I didn’t mean anything—”
Alessandra grabbed her hand and smiled comfortingly. “I was just trying to pick at Alek,” she reassured her.
“That sounds about right,” Alek said, extending his hand past Alessandra to her date. “Alek Ansah.”
“Hill Graham,” he answered.
Alek gave his hand an extra firm grip and then felt petty when the man visibly winced.
Alessandra’s eyes went from the men’s hands and up to Alek’s eyes with a slight arch to one of her eyebrows.
“We’ll see you later,” he said, lightly pressing his hand to Millicent’s lower back to guide her past them.
“You really looked good out there, Alek,” Millicent told him.
He barely heard her. His thoughts were somewhere else. Or rather on someone else.
As he held the gate open for her to step through, he glanced back. His breath caught to find Alessandra looking past Hill with her eyes resting on him.
They held that stare. Time seemed to tick by slowly.
“Am I everything you want?”
“Everything you need?”
“Everything you desire?”
“Let’s go kayaking,” Millicent said from somewhere outside the bubble.
“Alek. Alek? Alek!”
Millicent shook his arm roughly, jarring him. He looked down at her in question. “Huh?”
“Is everything okay?” she asked, lightly touching his chest.
“Yes,” he lied, gently steering her from the tennis court as he forced himself not to look back again.
* * *
As she stood in a dress most women would crave wearing, Alessandra had never felt so unsure in her life. She pressed a trembling hand to her stomach as she eased the black curtain open just enough to peek out at the transformed east dining room of the Lake House. She smiled at the ADG employees and their spouses, dates and adult family members enjoying the live band and the elegant decor of the candlelight, warm white lighting and colorful floral arrangements on each table contrasting with the dark wood of the ceiling and the stone pillars.
The venue’s event planners had done a wonderful job and she was pleased.
And nervous.
A frown marred her brow when she spotted her cousin Marisa in the middle of the dance floor with her hands high above her head as she danced to “Wild Thoughts” by DJ Khaled and Rihanna, drawing attention as the skirt of her short sequined dress rose high on her legs. She winced as the wife of the telecommunications director jerked his arm when he started to dance up to Marisa as she bent over and wiggled her bottom.
I know she didn’t. No to the hell no.
She turned to look over her shoulder and spotted the resort’s lead event planner in the wings of the stage reviewing something on her clipboard. “Cindy,” Alessandra called out in a loud whisper.
The woman looked up and immediately walked over to where Alessandra stood behind the closed curtains. “We’re just waiting on Mr. Ansah and we’ll be ready to make the announcement and free you from back here,” she said, her tone congenial.
“No, I’m fine, I just need you, or one of your staff, to go to the
woman putting on the show in the middle of the floor and tell her I said for her plant her ass in a seat or she can go home,” Alessandra stressed, pulling back the curtain to point out Marisa. “And let her know I am so serious about this.”
Cindy’s expression became pained after she peeked past the silk curtain. That spoke volumes that Alessandra was not overreacting. “Right away,” she said, swiftly walking back into the wings and down the stairs leading to the dining room.
Alessandra watched on as Cindy reached her cousin and discreetly guided her from the dance floor as she spoke into her ear. Marisa did not look pleased, but she immediately reclaimed her seat next to her mother at their round table. Alessandra had no doubt that she would do as she bid. Being the one to dole out the family allowances had its privileges.
Waiters filed in carrying crystal flutes of Armand de Brignac champagne, ensuring every person was handed a glass. Alessandra wasn’t surprised when Marisa insisted on two. Her life was always about excess. Everything was too much: too much drinking, too much partying and too many men.
“If you’re looking for me, I’m right here, Alessandra.”
Her body froze as her pulse raced, and she closed her eyes as she quickly sought control. Turning, she was surprised to find Alek standing so close behind her. He wore all black with a tuxedo obviously tailored for just his frame. His eyes seemed more intense. The cut of his jaw with his trimmed beard more masculine. His supple lips more enticing. Just handsome. Devastatingly so.
She took a step back. The curtain swayed.
He reached out to press his hands to her bare upper arms to steady her. “Damn, Alessandra,” he said as his eyes moved up and down the length of her body in pure appreciation.
The sound of the Latin-flavored music was haunting. The lyrics spoke to temptation.
She was breathless. All her fears and nerves about her dress faded into the heat of his clear approval of her choice. The custom sheer figure-hugging backless gown with a plunging neckline was showered with crystal embellishments that sparkled beneath the overhead lights. Her glam squad had her hair piled atop her head, exposing her neck, and her makeup was a dark and dramatic smoky eye with a nude lip.
A Billionaire Affair Page 7