ALEXANDER: A Billionaire Romance (NIGHT OF THE KINGS SERIES Book 4)

by Shayne Ford

  That was a testosterone-laden encounter if I’ve ever seen one.

  “How do you like working for our company?” James Sexton asks as we ride the elevator down.

  I lift my gaze to him, Lex’s stare stamps on my face.

  “I love it,” I say, grinning.

  James Sexton’s eyes fill with a secret smile.

  He glances at Lex, briefly, the looks they trade making me sweat.

  “Lex might have a permanent position for you in the near future,” he says.

  I’m still undecided whether I heard an innuendo or not.

  I shift my gaze to Lex, who studies me with narrowed eyes.

  “Is it true?” I ask, realizing how intimate our conversation has become.

  “I might,” he says, broody all of a sudden.

  “Are you still going to be my boss?” I ask with a sweet voice as if I earn my living at Sex Calls International.

  “He’s always gonna be your boss,” James Sexton says, the innuendo glaring this time.

  My dress begins to melt against my skin.

  Smoothly, I run my fingers over my eyebrow, wiping a drop of sweat.

  “Hot?” James Sexton says, weighing me with smiling eyes.

  He must be the devil, I muse. Lex’s stare gives me shivers.

  Thank God the elevator doors open. They let me go out first, but I don’t know if that’s necessarily better. I feel their eyes on my back.

  James Sexton climbs in his Bugatti while Lex shows me to his car.

  Like last time, I fumble with my seat belt. Gallantly, Lex leans toward me and fastens it for me.

  I find myself inches away from him, his soft breath rolling over my lips.

  He dips his gaze, and I almost feel his kiss. My heart starts pounding in my chest, pleasure swirling below my waist.

  His fingers rest on the seat belt a few more moments before he pulls away, leaving me a heap of wet heat.

  The engine revs up with a groan. He veers left, following James Sexton out of the parking lot.

  Smoothly, I shift in my seat, and clench my thighs, relishing the sensation reverberating between my legs.

  A few moments of silence tick by.

  “So what’s with you and that guy from Larry Wells firm?”

  I swivel my head and shoot him a glance.

  Is he really asking me that? After all the cockblocking he’s been doing?

  He keeps his eyes trained on the road.

  “I can ask you the same thing?”

  “Excuse me?” he says, smiling.

  “Yeah... What’s your problem with him?”

  “I have a problem with anyone distracting my employees when they’re supposed to work,” he says, stifling a grin.

  “He didn’t distract me,” I say.

  “That’s because I stopped him.”

  Shaking my head, I look away.

  “Were you so territorial with Sheila Lane?”

  I shift my gaze to him.

  Laughing softly, he takes another turn.

  “I didn’t need to. She could take care of herself. She wouldn’t fall for some guy’s tricks.”

  “I didn’t fall for his tricks. And even if I did, what’s it to you?”

  “As I said before, I have to make sure my employees focus on their work.”

  “Are you saying I’m not doing a good job because of him?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying,” he says. “You’re doing a great job,” he says, seriously this time.

  The car glides smoothly toward the top of the hill where Sexton International, the Casino and Entertainment Resort comes into view.

  “I’ll be off for the rest of the week,” he announces curtly after a while.

  My stomach shrinks.

  “Going somewhere?” I ask, not that is my business.

  He clicks his tongue.

  “Nope.”

  He doesn’t look at me.

  “What about Friday?” I ask.

  The words shoot out faster than I can stop them.

  His head flicks to me, his eyes diving into mine.

  “What’s Friday?” he asks.

  I swiftly lose my composure.

  “Nothing... I was, um... just asking,” I mumble, hot and cold, my voice shaking, my fingers dancing.

  He pulls the car to a stop in the VIP section of the parking, his eyes still on me.

  Through a sheer miracle, I manage to hold his gaze, my mind completely scrambled. I can’t tell if he suspects why I asked him or he simply made the inquiry because, like an idiot, I had nothing better to do than feeding him a clue.

  I clear my throat and start all over again.

  “The only reason I was asking about Friday, is because people usually do stuff at the end of the week.”

  “Do you?”

  “Um... Yeah. Not the kind of stuff that you do, but yes,” I say, finding my mojo and giving him a cheeky smile.

  I’m so not in his league when it comes to playing this game.

  “What kind of stuff are you doing?” he asks, glancing in the rearview mirror while running his hand through his hair, pretending he’s not prying into my life.

  His employee’s life.

  “I, um... I usually spend it with my sister and her friend. Girl stuff.”

  “What’s girl stuff these days?”

  He looks at me, his blue eyes melting into mine, and I sense him cornering me.

  “Movies, food. Nothing related to men,” I say, and he smiles, amused. “What about you?” I toss back at him, and his grin turns mysterious.

  “Man stuff,” he says barely withholding his laughter.

  I fight myself to keep my mouth shut, and yet I fail.

  “You like it?”

  He cocks his head to the side and gives me a soft grin.

  “Yeah... I do. I actually do,” he says as if we both know what he’s talking about.

  Smiling at him, I get caught in his eyes.

  “So...” he mutters softly, and my gaze dips to his mouth. “Are we going inside or not?”

  Forgetting for a moment where we are, and in what capacity, I bring my hand to his face and softly trace his jawline. His eyes change colors, his smile completely disappearing.

  He likes it. I know he does.

  Despite the lack of emotion on his face, a soft light flutters in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Without another word, I pull away.

  LEX

  I lag behind.

  She stands next to my car, waiting for me while I’m trying to make sense of her words.

  She’s sorry for what?

  I finally pull out of my seat and climb out. I study her as I close the space between us. She’s a girl looking like a woman, and sometimes she’s a woman looking like a girl.

  We spend the next hour or so, inside the Casino, and then we have lunch in the private room. Early afternoon, James, Ed and Livingston brothers head to the bar while I give Dahlia a tour.

  It’s her first time here, and although she spoke on the phone with some of the people who work for us, she never got the chance to meet them.

  Close to five o’clock, we walk back to my car.

  Slowly, we cruise through the rows of cars already pulling in.

  “It’s always that busy?”

  “Yeah. Pretty much...” I say.

  We finally pull out of the area and roll onto the open road.

  “Have you moved here recently?” I ask.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” She stays silent, and I look at her. “I would’ve remembered you.”

  A smile spills in her eyes.

  “You know everything around here?”

  “Almost,” I say.

  I glance at her a couple of times.

  “Why a business degree?”

  She looks at me.

  “It makes sense. Plus, it’s easier to get a job.”

  “What would you really like to do?�
��

  She shrugs.

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it.” She ponders for a moment. “Travel the world. Document everything.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Why are you surprised?

  I give her a once over.

  She looks so well put-together. It’s hard to imagine her with a backpack slung over her shoulder, hoping from a plane to a train, crossing border after border, immersing in different cultures. Not looking the way she looks right now. Like a woman belonging in a ballroom, the host of a charity event, or perhaps in a conference room, speaking.

  “I’m not,” I say. “I just have a hard time to imagine you that way.”

  “People are not always what they seem to be,” she mutters, looking out the window, and an unexplained feeling crawls all over me.

  “You’re going home?” I ask as we reach a crossroad.

  She cuts her eyes at me.

  “Where else?”

  “Do you want me to show you downtown?” I ask, and her eyes light up.

  “What makes you think I’m not familiar with it?”

  “If you moved here recently, chances are you end up on the other side of town most of the time, where the commercial center is. Am I right?”

  “Yes. I haven’t had the chance to go out much anyway.”

  “Perfect,” I say and steer right.

  “Are you serious?” she asks.

  “I sure am.”

  She raises an eyebrow and gives me an incredulous smile.

  “Alexander Harrington is going to walk with me on the streets of downtown?”

  “Yes. What makes you think it’s so unusual?”

  She gives me a small smile.

  “Do you do that often?”

  I laugh.

  “I’ve never done it.”

  “There’s the answer to your question,” she says.

  “Even so, why do you think it’s so out of the ordinary? I can do whatever I want.”

  She pins me with her gaze.

  “Are you?”

  “What?” I ask, pretending I have no clue what she’s talking about.

  “Are you a free man?”

  I pause for a moment. Her smile begins to wither away.

  “Yes, I am...” I say with a soft voice. “What about you?”

  She searches my eyes, her lips curling into another smile.

  “You set me up? You could’ve asked me straight up.”

  My lips tilt into a grin.

  “I am asking you... Are you a free woman?”

  She ponders over something.

  “I can’t answer,” she finally says.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because there is no straight answer,” she says.

  Her eyes roam over my face. I push my emotion back.

  “Do you care to explain?”

  Her eyebrows tilt up, a smile coloring her gaze.

  “Why is it important to you?” she asks.

  There you go. I got caught like a fucking newbie. And then I borrow from her book.

  “I can’t answer.”

  We lock eyes for a moment.

  “Because there is no straight answer,” I add.

  She bursts into laughter, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

  “Don’t be sneaky,” she says wagging her finger at me, flashing a cute grin.

  “You go first, and I’ll go second,” I suggest.

  She brushes a lock that escaped her bun to the side and turns her face away.

  I can still see her profile and her melancholic smile.

  “Okay,” she concedes. “I can’t say I’m free because someone is on my mind. All the time...” she mutters, bringing her eyes back to me. “But I can’t tell I’m taken because there’s no way that person is thinking about me,” she says, looking straight into my eyes.

  Suddenly everything seems surreal, and that unusual sensation comes back to me.

  It feels as if I look in a mirror covered with smoke.

  Everything looks real until I discover that there’s another mirror inside. And then another one. And suddenly I’m no longer sure things are the way they seem to be.

  “Have you asked the other person?” I ask as I pull the car to a stop.

  I turn the engine off and glance at her again.

  Her eyes narrow with a sad smile.

  “It’s not that simple,” she says and shifts her gaze away. “So where do we go now?” she asks as we both climb out the car.

  We take a few steps down the street, passing by restaurants and cafes, a few boutiques.

  Not far from us, rises Red’s.

  She spots the building as well.

  “This is part of the business holdings?”

  “Yes.”

  “What exactly is it?”

  She looks at me, curious.

  “A gentlemen’s club.”

  She swings her gaze in that direction.

  “How come...?”

  She stops abruptly in the middle of her question and pushes the rest of her words back. Angst spreads over her face. She looks as if she regrets the question.

  “How come what?”

  “Nothing. It’s a popular business, it seems.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  She blanches, all of a sudden struggling to draw breath, the tension in her body almost palpable.

  She starts glancing around, preoccupied, and then her eyes set on an ice cream parlor.

  “May I have some ice cream?” she asks.

  That’s a distraction if I’ve ever seen one.

  “Sure.”

  We enter the shop. She picks two flavors, dark chocolate, and vanilla.

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  My gaze sweeps the large variety of flavors.

  “Traditional, huh?”

  “I stick with what I like. Plus, I love the contrast.”

  “Hmm.... A dark chocolate and vanilla girl.”

  She misses the undertone. I think.

  We find a small table on the patio and sink into the wicker chairs.

  “How come you don’t like sweets?”

  “I never liked them,” I say as the server slides my espresso onto the table.

  I thank her with a nod, and the woman walks away.

  “But I like to watch people eating sweets,” I say.

  She gives me a smile while licking the spoon.

  My eyes linger on her pink tongue as she wipes the metal clean.

  “When was the last time you were in this place?”

  “Never,” I say.

  “Seriously?”

  “Not like this... Sitting at a table with a woman.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe me... The only reason I’m here with you is because no one in their right mind would look for me here.”

  She laughs.

  “Not even when you were a teenager.”

  I take a sip of coffee and run my tongue over my lip. It’s her turn to follow the slow motion. A rush burns through my blood.

  “You wouldn’t have caught me dead in a place like this.”

  And that’s the truth.

  “So what did you do when you were a teenager?”

  “Stupid shit, the kind of stuff that teenagers do, just ten times worse.”

  “Jail time?” she asks, smiling, not believing what she says.

  “Nah... Scars, wrecked cars, crying women. That sort of stuff.”

  She runs her spoon through the soft ice cream and fills it with a mouthful of dessert. I watch it disappear between her beautiful lips.

  “You said, women... ”

  I smile.

  “Uh-huh. They were always women. Never girls. Even when I was fifteen. What about you?”

  Her face turns scarlet like the roses on the table. Her composure vanishes away, and for some reason, she’s no longer the woman who can stop the traffic. She’s just a girl having ice cream on a terra
ce in a summer evening.

  She dabs her lips with a napkin, buying time by all means, and I can see her right through her.

  She’s right there in the twilight zone. Without direction. Lost. She could have any man she wants, and yet, unless they come with a step by step instructions guide, there’s no way in hell she knows what to do with them.

  She’s like a seven hundred horse power car without a key. She can play with you and make the ground sizzle under you, but nothing more than that. She has very low mileage. Similar to a brand new, exquisite car, she hasn’t been taken out a lot. You can’t tell how she runs. If she runs smoothly or not. Whether she takes you all the way or lets you down in the middle of the road.

  She’s the kind of machinery that needs a seasoned driver. That’s why I don’t like that Mako guy preying on her. And that’s why I dance around her like a teenager.

  “So how were you?” I ask again.

  She sets her spoon down.

  “I was the kind of girl someone like you would’ve never noticed.”

  “Not because you weren’t good looking, I assume,” I say casually.

  She blushes to her hairline.

  “I’m not so sure you would’ve seen me beautiful back then. There was nothing special about me. I wasn’t popular or anything. I was shy and awkward, and later on, I was too smart for my own good, and that put a damper on my social life. Nobody was keen to spend time with me.”

  “Girls too?”

  “Yeah. I used to have this bad habit, to tell the truth, and stuff... I thought it could help people.”

  “No?” I ask comically, and laughter rocks her chest.

  “No. They didn’t appreciate my help. Anyway, so that’s that. I focused on school and helping my mom. My dad passed away a few years back. So, there’s nothing special about me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that... Where did you get a taste for traveling?”

  She cuts her eyes at me, a bit distracted.

  “You said––” I mutter.

  “Oh... I didn’t actually. I never traveled far from home, and that’s why I’d love to do it. It may be just a whim, and I might actually hate it once I do it... Who knows?”

  She shrugs.

  A few moments of silence slip by as she starts eating her ice cream.

  My phone flashes with a message.

  Ed: Where are you?

  I power off the phone and flip it, setting it back on the table.

  “Were you always doing business?”

  “Uh-huh. I kinda grew up with it. James Sexton started it really young, and I got sucked in it along with Ed.”