“Do you know Alessandra Dalmount?” Alek asked, his thoughts returning to her.
The baker looked incredulous. “Of course, bro,” he said. “As a matter of fact, she loves these citrus petits fours glacés.”
Alek envisioned her tucking one of the small square treats in her mouth. “Let me get all of those, too,” he said, reaching in his back pocket for his billfold, pulling out his American Express Centurion card.
“Sorry, dude, I haven’t turned on my register yet,” Bill said. “Listen, the coffee and petits fours are on the house. Enjoy.”
“Wow. Thank you,” he said, replacing his card.
“No problem,” he said, handing over a large black pastry bag.
Alek pulled five hundred-dollar bills from the wallet and folded them to slide into a glass carafe on the counter. “Consider this a tip, then,” he said, before turning to walk out of the bakery.
He chuckled at Bill’s exclamation from behind him.
Once back behind the wheel of his sports car with the box of pastries safely on the passenger seat, Alek settled in and enjoyed the feel of driving as he made his way back to lower Manhattan. With a yawn that spoke to the lack of real sleep he had gotten last night, he enjoyed the taste of the coffee and welcomed any energy it gave him. He rarely drove because it was such an inconvenience in the city, but he welcomed the feel of handling the sports car. It was almost as smooth a ride as Alessandra.
His gut clenched as he glanced at the pastry box. He planned to leave the box of treats on her desk as a surprise, but outside of that he didn’t know where they went from there. How would they interact? Would it be awkward?
And businesswise, would she expect him to change his views on her place in the business after last night? Because he hadn’t. Would that anger her?
Alek released a heavy breath.
As much as he enjoyed last night, as much as he craved being with her again, Alek was fast realizing that he had just made things far too complicated.
* * *
Once she heard the front door close and the roar of the engine of Alek’s car, Alessandra opened her eyes and stopped feigning sleep. She hadn’t been ready to face Alek just yet. That would come later. She rolled over to the side where he had slept and pressed her face into his pillow. His scent lingered, and she inhaled deeply of it.
Last night was magnificent.
One time with Alek Ansah had done anything but get him out of her system.
Alessandra climbed from the bed, wincing at the tenderness between her thighs as she walked across the long expanse of the bedroom to her en suite bathroom. She took a shower, enjoying the feel of the massive rainfall showerhead pouring down on her while the heads on the walls pulsed against her body. Once done, she made sure the glass door was sealed tight and pressed the digital button to fill the oversize stall with steam. She took a seat on the marble-tiled bench, leaning back against the wall as she awaited her own type of therapy. Soon eucalyptus-scented steam swirled around her until it was thick as clouds.
What she usually saw as just calming had become erotic last night as Alek bent her over the bench and stroked her from behind as the steam caressed their bodies.
His imprint was now on her entire house. No place was free of a steamy recollection of him.
Aware of the time, Alessandra wrapped a towel around her damp body and left the shower. She quickly dressed in leggings and a baggy T-shirt before driving her golf cart up to the main house. Victor was lounging by the pool with a satisfied smile on his face as he smoked a cigar.
“See you in the office today, Victor?” she called over to him as she passed.
He laughed like she’d told a Kevin Hart–level joke.
“Of course not,” she said drily, speeding ahead.
Alessandra parked by the stone water feature and jogged up the steps to walk in through one of the towering double doors of the front entry. The lights of the chandelier high above in the entrance hall were dimmed. The quiet was unusual. As she picked up a stack of mail from the table in the center of the round foyer, she paused to smell the fresh flowers arranged in a tall vase atop it.
She smiled up at the massive painting of her parents on the wall as she tucked the mail under her arm and crossed the tiled floor to the elevator. The ride up to the third floor was brief. She passed the double doors leading into her master suite and instead went to the room at the end of the west wing. Her hairstylist would arrive at six as she did every Monday morning to do Alessandra’s hair for the week in her home salon.
She picked up the phone and dialed the kitchen, “Good morning, Olga,” she said. “Breakfast for two, please, and I would love some pancakes.”
Olga, the estate’s house manager of the last twenty years, chuckled warmly. “With or without walnuts?” she asked.
Alessandra smiled. “With,” she insisted, using a finger to push the styling chair. It circled.
“I missed you at dinner last night,” she said. “Chef made roast pork. Your favorite.”
“I wasn’t up for the peanut gallery last night,” she said with a shake of her head as she turned to play with her hair in the mirror.
“Are you ever?”
“No,” she stressed.
“I’ll bring the plates up so I can see you before you’re gone for the week.”
“Thank you.”
She hung up the phone and leaned against the rear of the chair as she continued to study her reflection. Do I look different because I feel different?
“Here you are.”
Alessandra turned to smile at her aunt Leonora. The silver-haired woman with freckled skin the color of shortbread was in a floor-length satin robe with an unlit cigarette in one hand and in the other, a champagne flute of orange juice that undoubtedly was a mimosa with more Veuve Clicquot than anything else. “I saw you drive up and wondered where you’d gotten to in this goliath we call home.”
“Getting my hair done for the week ahead,” she explained, taking a seat in the chair.
Leonora nodded, taking a sip and eyeing her niece’s hair over the rim of the crystal. “I know hair messed up during sex when I see it. That’s a sweat out,” she said, running the tip of her tongue over her teeth. “Good for you.”
Alessandra grimaced as she reached up to smooth the wildness from her mane.
“Alek has a strong African back and good abs—it should have been a-maz-ing,” she drawled with a wink. “Right?”
“Wrong,” she insisted, rotating the chair to avoid her aunt’s all-too-knowing eyes.
“Oh no,” Leonora sighed, wiggling her pinkie finger at Alessandra with a question in her eyes.
Definitely not.
“Aunt Leonora, didn’t you attend finishing school?” she asked.
“Yes, I finished off everything they taught me with my love of a good dirty martini,” she said, taking a deep sip of her drink with a satisfying—and completely unruly—smack of her lips.
Alessandra hid a smile behind her hand. Leonora had moved to Passion Grove from her villa in Paris—and a lover twenty years her junior—when Alessandra’s mother passed away. She took on raising her niece, and for that Alessandra was loyal to her and endlessly forgiving of her lack of tact.
“You deserve love, my beautiful niece,” Leonora said in a rare moment of seriousness as she came over to lightly stroke Alessandra’s chin. Her eyes became bright. “The kind of love your parents had for each other. I never had that.”
Alessandra’s heart tugged at her aunt’s hint of a sad smile and the tears brimming in her wide-set eyes.
“I want that for you. A lifetime without love—real love—is not easy. Please believe me,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alessandra rose to pull her thin frame into a tight embrace. “Aunt Leonora, I’m okay,” she lied.
She was far
from okay. At times her loneliness was draining, but with her busy life of tackling the business world, keeping up with her demanding family and carving out a few hours for herself, Alessandra didn’t have the time or inclination to date. Last night with Alek had been her first passionate rendezvous in nearly two years. She was so driven to prove her detractors wrong that she felt dating or a relationship would diminish her focus.
And love?
That was weakness and a gateway to heartbreak.
Leonora’s body began to quiver, and Alessandra rolled her eyes heavenward as she shook her head. “What, Auntie?” she asked, knowing the moment of deep reflection had passed.
“I know you’re okay this morning after the night you had,” she said, barely getting it out between her bawdy giggles.
Alessandra hugged her tighter and pressed a kiss to her smooth cheek as she reached down to lightly swat her buttocks in playful reprimand.
“Gave you some of the good ole African loving that had you thinking drums was playing in the background,” she joked.
Alessandra leaned back and smiled down at her. “I love you, Aunt Lenora,” she said. “See, I do have love in my life.”
“As long as I’m alive and even after I’m gone, Allie,” she promised, going back to her childhood nickname for her. “Just make sure that’s enough.”
“Okay,” Alessandra agreed, wondering if it was.
Chapter 8
Two weeks later
Alessandra dropped her Aurora pen atop the feasibility studies for each of the subsidiaries under the ADG umbrella. She sat her chin in her palm as she looked over at the secret doorway behind the bookcase that led to the passageway between her office and Alek’s. She bit her bottom lip, glancing down at the report and then back at the door as she stroked the back of her tight topknot.
The first time she used it had also been the last.
Is it still locked?
She leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap as she crossed her legs in the acid-green printed crepe de chine Valentino dress she wore, causing the kick pleats at the hem to open and expose black silk. For the last two weeks, it had been business as usual between them. Business meetings. Corporate luncheons. Cordiality. Distance. Pretense.
Like it never happened.
Alessandra lightly stroked her throat with the tips of her black-coated fingernails, turning from the hidden portal. She was an actress. Being around Alek and keeping herself from staring at him, touching him, or pretending her heart was not racing with the speed of one of his sports cars was a Viola Davis–level brilliant performance.
Was he giving a tour de force performance as well, or had that one night been enough?
If so, what were the petits fours about?
She had found them on her desk that morning, immediately recognizing the box from the bakery back home in Passion Grove. Through the day she had devoured the six citrus petits fours. Licking her lips, she opened the top drawer of her desk and withdrew the card that had been attached to the box. “Your fave, huh? Now I know another one of your secrets, Alessandra,” she read. “Enjoy them slowly like I did my sweet treat last night. A.”
She tilted her head back at the hot memory of him tongue-kissing her down below that night two weeks ago. Her climax had been achingly slow and completely mind-wrecking.
“Whooooooo,” Alessandra breathed, as her tiny bud pulsed with new life.
She’d thought she wasn’t going to ever stop climaxing.
“Alessandra,” she admonished herself, picking up her pen and forcing her attention away from memories of Alek stroking deep inside her to the reports on her desk.
And then there was the elephant that stayed posted up in any room both she and Alek were in. The next board meeting was in two weeks and they were expected to make the decision on who would concede on their acquisition plan. They had yet to discuss it since the board meeting during the Jubilee weekend. She pushed aside the report and reached down to pick up the bright red hardcover folder holding Alek’s report, sitting it in her lap and rotating in her chair to face the bright light of the window. She squinted in concentration, lightly biting the tip of her nail, as she read through the entire report for what had to be the third time in the past two weeks. This time when she was done she went back to the beginning and read it again.
She closed the folder and lightly drummed her fingernails against the top of it as she looked out window, lost in thought. His choice of airline to acquire was solid. All his reports substantiated his selection. The stocks were priced aggressively, making it an ideal time to acquire those necessary to gain majority ownership and have less risk of a low return. His market research showed an upsurge in the viability of the airline industry. He even researched the current executives in place to ensure that keeping them in their current position would ease the transition period.
She was willing to admit his venture was a better acquisition for ADG.
“But something is nagging at me,” she whispered aloud.
Think. Think. Think. Think.
“Come on, Alessandra. What is it?”
Bzzzzzz.
“Damn,” she swore, her chain of thought broken.
Alessandra whirled around in the chair with the velocity of the cartoon Tasmanian Devil. She hit the intercom button on her conference phone. “Yes, Unger,” she said forcing civility into her tone when she felt like being belligerent.
“I don’t have any lunch plans on your schedule and I wondered if you wanted to order in?” he asked.
She glanced down at her watch. Three hours had passed. “Um, yes, I’ll be staying in,” she said, searching for clarity. “Um, I’ll have my usual from that sandwich place.”
“Pisillio,” he offered. “I’ll go get it. I have a coupon.”
Alessandra arched a brow. “A coupon?” she balked. “Unger, just use the card I gave you for expenses.”
“I am, but a deal is a deal,” he said. “Why pay more for something if you don’t have to?”
“Right. Thanks, Unger.” She removed her finger from the button and sat the folder atop all the paperwork on her desk.
Okay, where was I? Think. Think. Think. Think.
She rose from her seat and began pacing the length of her office, her heels echoing against the hardwood floors.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap...tap...tap...tap.
Alessandra came to a stop with her hands outstretched and her eyed closed. “I got it,” she said, rushing back over to her desk and quickly flipping through the pages of the proposal until she reached the financial sections. “Thank you, Unger.”
When her lunch arrived, Alessandra used one hand to flip through and search sites on her touch screen computer and with the other she held her delicious panini of Parmacotto ham and fresh mozzarella with tomatoes, arugula and lemon dressing on fresh-baked bread. She was a dog on the hunt and her entire body tingled, letting her know she was close to her prey.
It was late afternoon when she finally dropped her pen and rubbed her eyes. She laughed a little as she looked down at the proposal with red slashings and notes in the margin. She felt exhilarated. It was such moments that she felt business was in her blood, and maybe—just maybe—her father had seen it in her.
And now maybe Alek will, as well.
* * *
Alek closed his eyes as he lay on the low-slung bright red sofa in the lounge area of his office. Jay-Z’s song “4:44” played from the wireless speakers and he was lost in the music and the words. He needed a break from the world, and for him, music offered that.
As the jazz-influenced beat swelled in the air, he had an image of Alessandra flinging her head back and laughing before she smiled with a carefree and pleased look in her beautiful brown eyes.
In the last two weeks, he’d seen her nearly every day and still he missed her. There had been a shift
after that night. A subtle change that maybe no one else noticed, but he had. Even as they avoided each other’s eyes and made sure to never be alone with each other, his desire to just be in her atmosphere had intensified. The need to berate, embarrass or lessen had faded. Most moments of the day he wanted nothing more than to see her smile, and all moments of the night he wanted a replay of that night.
The scent of her hair and her neck and her femininity haunted him.
The discovery that she was far more than even his dreams captivated him.
The struggle not to stride in her office and press her body to the floor tortured him.
He sat up and swiped his finger across the tablet to end the music abruptly.
Still the opening refrain played in his head, nagging at him and speaking to his life.
He rose to slide his hands in his pockets and walk over to stand at the windows lining his office. Was he running the way he accused her? Definitely. He had never wanted to just be with a woman the way his mind and his body craved Alessandra.
That didn’t sit well with him. That feeling was a doorway to emotions he didn’t want to allow.
He shrugged and shook his head as his focus became his refection and not the sky-reaching buildings before him. His office door opened behind him and he shifted his eyes to the right to see Alessandra standing in the doorway. His body stiffened and his heart double-pumped as he licked his lips and freed one of his hands to stroke his bearded chin. And just like that, with the sudden appearance of her in his space, he felt rejuvenated...and if he was honest with himself, also nervous and unsure. That was unfamiliar territory.
“Hello, Alessandra,” Alek said as he turned to face her as she strolled in with the hem of her skirt swaying back and forth across the thickest part of her thighs.
She stopped before his desk and held a large red binder against her chest. Her eyes shifted to the hidden door of the secret passageway.
He looked at it and then back at her before he walked over to release the latch locking it. “How can I help you?” he asked, coming back to take a seat behind his desk.
A Billionaire Affair Page 11