by Jessie Cooke
“Black Knight?” Alex asked. He was feigning ignorance, sort of. But, almost masochistically, he wanted to hear her thoughts. The “Black Knight son of a bitch” sort of gave them away…but, he craved more.
“Yeah, that's what they called this guy, and I think it was appropriate. It was a hostile takeover. The company was struggling and instead of helping, he swooped in and bought up enough shares to shut them down…and then he parted it out like it was…a used Chevy.”
Alex couldn't help it, he laughed at that. It was actually the best way he'd ever heard it described and he'd been in this business for a long time. “A used Chevy, huh?”
She glared at him with those beautiful blue eyes. There was fire in them, and he was aching to be burned. “You're making fun of me.”
“No,” he said, seriously. “I'm not. It was just a cute way to put it.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Cute?”
“Yeah, you're cute.” She blushed, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Then damn it if Hiro didn't show up just then with the food. This guy is down to about a buck and a half tip. Alex looked back across at Izzy. She was watching Hiro set the food on the table…and the look in her eyes as she took in the food made him hornier than anything had in a long time. He fucking wanted her to look at him like that…like she wanted to eat him up. It was hot. In his thirty-eight years on this planet, he couldn't remember anything ever turning him on like the hungry look in her eyes…and he knew it was fucking weird.
As soon as Hiro finished setting out all the food, he asked if there was anything else they needed. She smiled again, that bright, sexy smile. “Would it be too much trouble to ask for some Wasabi sauce?” At least she was finished showing off and she didn't say it in Japanese. He was being petty, he knew. He hated feeling jealous, especially over something so stupid. What was she doing to him?
“No trouble at all, Miss.” Hiro smiled back. The little Japanese man was flirting with his date, damn it! He was jealous, there was no denying it. No fucking tip for you! He screamed in his head and then waved him away like he was swatting at a fly. Hiro suddenly seemed to remember who held the wallet. He smiled and bowed at Alex before running off to get the sauce for the new love of his life. When Alex looked back at Izzy, she was picking up her chopsticks. He had never learned to master them, and he was impressed as he watched her pick up a piece of the dungeness crab that she'd apparently ordered in Japanese and bring it to her lips effortlessly. As she opened her lips and slid the crab in between them, Alex found himself jealous of the fucking crab. He was really losing it. Maybe she was a witch. Again, he laughed at himself in his head. Jesus.
He analyzed his weird new feelings while trying not to look directly at her lips as she ate. He never felt this way about Kelly, or any of the women he dated before her…and he didn't even know this woman. Kelly was hot, supermodel hot. He was attracted to her the second he met her, any red-blooded straight guy would be. She always looked good, even first thing in the morning. He never saw her messed up…although sometimes he thought it might be a little sexy if she didn't stay so put together all the time. She didn't even break a sweat during sex. But, she was beautiful, and she looked good on his arm. She was an asset to him at dinner parties and fundraisers. She fit in seamlessly with the society set, and the international businessmen he had meetings with, loved the way she flirted with them. Alex and Kelly had a lot of the same tastes…in music, home furnishings, movies, plays, food, wine…as a matter of fact they like nearly all of the same things. Maybe that had been the ultimate demise of their relationship. They had too much in common. After some time, she started to feel like an old high school friend, or worse yet, his sister. Once that thought entered his mind, the sex became as bland as their conversations had, not that it was ever extraordinary to begin with. It had always just been regular sex, don't mess up my hair and makeup sex. But, he didn't have to work for it. He didn't have to pay for it and he didn't have to worry she'd get pregnant in an attempt to trap the billionaire. Kelly hated kids and as much as she loved his money, she'd never go that far. He made sure she wouldn't ever have to worry about money when they split up, so it was all good. Except, he was horny as hell. Maybe that was his wild and sudden attraction to Izzy. Or maybe it was that fire he could see burning just under the surface of that cold demeanor she presented to…he was about to say the world, but that wasn't true. She had been friendly and warm to Gigi, the homeless guy and now Hiro. It was just him that seemed to bring out the ice princess in her. Strangely enough, that intrigued him even more. So much in fact that it made him want to go into the bathroom, take his throbbing cock out of his pants and stroke it like a horny adolescent. He was losing his mind.
He picked up his fork and had to concentrate on steadying his hand as he pierced a tempura prawn. Before he put it in his mouth he said, “So, where did you learn to speak Japanese?”
She looked almost annoyed that he was interrupting her meal, but she swallowed the bite she'd just put into her mouth and said, “Okinawa.” She took another bite, as if that explained everything. Alex took his own bite and after he swallowed it he said,
“You studied in Okinawa?”
“No. I lived there for five years when I was a kid. My dad was in the Army.”
“An army brat, huh?” That might explain the hard edges. “Was Dad career military?”
“Yes.” She continued to shovel in the food and Alex suddenly wondered when the last time was that she had a full meal…and the guilt seeped back in. Was she hungry because he'd taken over the company she worked for and forced them to lay her off? Of course, that was why…shit. He was on the verge of doing something insane…like confessing to be the Black Knight when she said,
“What about you? Where are you from?” She was trying to make conversation with him. Maybe she was warming up. He wasn't going to blow it with a confession that wouldn't do anyone any good at that moment, or so that's what he told himself.
“I grew up in Westchester County.” She opened her eyes wide, like she was trying not to roll them, and both of her eyebrows went up.
“Oh.”
He smiled. “Oh?”
“Sorry, I just mean…it explains your affluence.”
“You know, things are not always what they appear.”
“Not always,” she said, “but usually.”
The fact that she thought he'd grown up affluent seemed to shut down any interest she may have had in him. He wondered if the truth would change her opinion of him. But that might lead to the whole truth…and then she'd really hate him. He watched her face as she returned to her meal and decided to leave it alone for the time being. For now he was mesmerized by watching her eat and confused about why every bite she took turned him on. It was all new…and slightly unsettling.
4
After they finished their meals, and Izzy had asked for a doggy bag for what was left of hers, Alex finally said, “I'll make sure my friend Renay gets your information. You should be expecting a call from one of the executives in a day or two.”
She felt her heart soar…but, she tried to rein in her excitement. She couldn't stand to get her hopes up and have the rug snatched out from under her again. “Really? You're sure she'll agree to get me an interview, just like that?”
He smiled. She wished that his smile didn't make her pulse speed up, and her palms sweat. “I'm sure. You'll have to ace the interview yourself though. Of course, I'm sure you won't have a problem with that.”
“Why are you doing all this?” she asked him. She knew she should keep her mouth shut. She was going to have an interview with Rags, for crying out loud. Just getting a foot in the door would be like a dream. But she was curious, and a little suspicious still, of his motivation.
“Just to be nice,” he said. She cocked an eyebrow and he smiled again. “Not buying that?”
“Forgive me if I'm a little suspicious. I have found in my lifetime that most people do things less to be nice and more to gain something�
��or assuage their guilt about something. Are you one of those guys that feel guilty for having money?”
“You're the most direct person I've ever met.”
“Is that a problem for you?” Isabelle knew she was direct and she knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable. But, she hated lies and liars and she despised the head games people played with each other. It was better to just get most things out up front.
“No, not at all. And to answer your question, no… I do not feel guilty for having money. I do think that people should help each other out if they can though. Is that bad?”
“No… I’m sorry. I do appreciate your help. I know it probably doesn't seem like it.”
He winked and said, “So this means you don't hate me?”
He got a smile out of her. “I'm really sorry. I have some PTSD issues about being lied to and tricked into things. I just hate to be played for a fool. If all of this was about you hitting on me, I just wanted to know up front…before I let you do something for me and expect something in return.”
“It wasn't about hitting on you,” he said. She watched him wiggle his fingers at the waiter as he continued talking to her. “There was just something about you…” The waiter set the check down in front of him and while he was taking his credit card out of his wallet, she looked at the waiter and in Japanese she said,
“Can you bring me a small piece of Unagi to go? It doesn't have to be steamed…I'll do that at home. And please put it on a separate check.” He glanced nervously at Alex, like he wasn't sure the man with the black AMEX would approve. “Is there a problem?” she asked the waiter, in English.
“What is it?” Alex asked.
“I asked him to bring something for me to go, and a separate check.”
Alex looked at the waiter and said, “Hiro please do what the young lady is asking you.” The waiter bowed, gave her an apologetic look and picked up Alex's credit card and check before leaving the table. Alex turned to her and said, “I'm sorry…they're really afraid of offending me.”
“Why?” She suddenly remembered he never told her what he actually did for a living. That car she'd ridden over in was a Bentley, and she'd asked the driver…Alex owned it. His suit probably cost more than her last year’s lease on the crappy little car she'd had to let go back to the dealership and his cuff links were diamonds…probably a full carat each. The watch he wore had to set him back thirty-grand and she wasn't sure what the cologne was she'd gotten a whiff of earlier, but she was sure that it was expensive. He knew one of the board of directors of Rag well enough to know she'd agree to give an interview to someone he pulled in off the street…and as she waited for his reply, she saw him write in $200.00 where it said, “tip” on the bill. This guy was loaded. It might be old money, and it might be none of her business, but she was dying to know what he did and for who. He handed Hiro the signed credit card receipt and then focused his green eyes on her face again. She suppressed a shudder.
“Why are they afraid of offending me?”
“Well, I get that you're a good customer…but, it's more than that, isn't it?”
“Yeah, it's because they know that I could buy and sell this restaurant thousands of times over…hundreds of thousands of times even. They kiss my ass because I'm rich.”
“How rich?”
He smiled. “Filthy.”
“And how did you get all that money?”
“Legally,” he said. “I worked for it.”
“Doing?”
“I told you earlier, I'm an investor.”
“What do you invest in?” There was something he wasn't telling her, something he was holding back. She wasn't sure why it was so important to her to get it out of him, but it suddenly was.
“Companies.”
She drew her brows together. “What kind of companies?”
“Companies that need an investor…struggling companies mostly.”
“You give them loans?”
“Sometimes.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. Folding her arms across her chest she said, “What do you so desperately not want to tell me?”
He looked almost like he was in pain when he said, “My name is Alex Romaletti.”
“Okay…? Romaletti? Where have I heard that name?” Isabelle could picture it in her head. She'd seen it in print somewhere…recently.
“I'm the CEO of Romaletti and Associates…”
“Oh my God!” It suddenly came to her where she'd seen that name…on the paycheck she was given the day she was told that she was being laid off. “You son of a bitch!” She threw the napkin she was holding down on the table and got to her feet. “This was…what? Guilt? Or some kind of twisted little game because you're so fucking rich that you're bored with your life? Slumming? What the fuck?” Everyone in the restaurant was staring at them. Hiro was standing at the edge of the table with a very large piece of wrapped eel in his hands. She pulled what was left of the money Alex had given her that morning out of her pocked and practically threw it at the poor waiter as she wrenched the eel out of his hands and then turned and started for the door.
“Izzy…” She didn't stop to correct him that time, she kept walking. She couldn't believe that she'd let herself be played for a fool…again. “Isabelle, please wait…” Alex was on her heels as she stormed out of the restaurant. He followed her almost to the corner when she finally turned on him.
“Stop following me!”
“Let me take you home.”
“I don't need you to take me home.”
“Isabelle, please. At least let me explain. I didn't know…”
“Stop talking! I don't care what you knew or didn't know. When I asked you this morning what you did, you should have told me then and there. But, you chose to lie.”
“I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you exactly who I was…”
“Omission is a lie when it's done to deceive,” she said. She turned away from him again. She hated that he was so damned good-looking.
“I'm sorry, Isabelle. Please let me at least call the car for you. It's late and it's dangerous for you to be out here walking alone with nothing but…a fish to protect yourself.” He had the nerve to smile when he said that. She was tempted to slap him with the fish.
“I'm not going to walk,” she said. Alex had been so focused on catching her that he didn't seem to realize they were standing in front of the metro bus stop. The big bus pulled up to the curb and opened its doors. She heard him say her name once more as she stepped on and the doors closed behind her. She found a seat, and clutching the smelly eel to her chest, fought back the tears. She didn't even know why she was crying. Maybe it was because she'd been made a fool of, again. Or she'd gotten her hopes up and they'd been dashed, again. This was exactly why you didn't trust people…especially men.
Isabelle was still fuming by the time she got home. Theo met her at the door and had her flustered before she was even inside. She kicked the door with her foot and Theo screamed when it hit him. “I'm sorry Theodore but damn it! You're always underfoot. If you move out of the way, I'll fix your dinner. It's fancy tonight.”
Theo didn't move out of the way, he continued to rub up against her and meow as she cut the eel in half and lightly steamed it for him. He wouldn't shut up and she wasn't in the mood for conversation, so when the eel was ready, she slapped it down into his bowl with a terse excuse about having a headache and she headed for the bath. It was only as she closed her eyes and immersed herself in the bubbles that she realized what she was becoming…a crazy, lonely woman that had conversations with her cat. It was a far cry from the woman she fancied herself.
She had ambition and drive…and confidence, once, before Darryl had spent three years metaphorically beating it out of her. Not long after they first met, they began to dabble together in light BDSM with Isabelle as the dom and Darryl the sub. It was new and exciting, and Isabelle thought they were learning all about it together. She would tie him to the bed with scarves naked…and he would
swear to her that he never even looked at another woman. He'd tell her that she was the most beautiful, exciting woman he'd ever met, and no other woman even tempted him. Isabelle would use a light whip and a feather to tickle and torture the truth out of him. Finally, he'd confess to things like, “I looked down my bosses blouse and got a hard-on,” or “I checked out the ass on the woman in front of me at the bank and thought about fucking her.” It was all in fun, or so she thought. The problem came when she realized Darryl wasn't just playing. Money started coming up missing from their joint account and strange charges popping up on their credit cards. It took her some effort, but she finally tracked most of the charges to a fetish sex club. She was devastated to find out that Darryl was not only cheating on her…he was doing it with a seasoned Mistress…one that even had her own little cult following. When she confronted him he'd once again tried to lie his way out of it. When he realized that wasn't going to work…he'd told her it was her fault. He said that she had been the one to introduce him to all of it, and she'd whet his appetite for more. To her fragile ego that was the same as him telling her he needed “more” because she wasn't “enough.” What made it worse was that she believed his promises that it would never happen again and months later she once again found out that he had been playing her for a fool all along. She met a woman who told her Darryl wasn't new to the lifestyle at all. He'd been a regular at the club even before he met her. He let Isabelle think they were learning together, and she'd bought it all. She'd never felt like such a fool and she hadn't been able to trust a man enough since to let him in on her little secret and she was beginning to wonder if she was destined to spend the rest of her life having dull, vanilla sex…or marathon masturbation sessions in the shower.