A Deal with Alejandro
Page 10
‘It’s low on my list of ideal outcomes.’
Her gaze dropped, her smile as tight as her nod.
He traced her face for a minute, noting that, apart from lip gloss, she hadn’t applied any more make-up when she’d changed. He curbed the urge to trace his fingers over her skin as he had last night.
She’d made her feelings more than clear. She wasn’t interested in blurring the professional lines of their relationship. And he needed to relocate his little black book.
Opening the file, he speed-read through the half-dozen pages and paused when he reached the most interesting morsel of information. ‘Grandma to the rescue again?’
A light blush washed her cheeks. ‘I didn’t see the harm in tapping a useful source.’
He closed the file. ‘I’ll take it under advisement. The conference call with the Ishikawas is in fifteen minutes. I want you there.’ Not that he held out much hope that it’d be any more progressive than the last one.
Gael had drawn battle lines and he would be going all out to sink his claws deeper into the deal.
* * *
As expected, Alejandro was met with platitudes and empty promises. He played along for half an hour, then changed tactics.
‘How is your grandfather?’
Jason and Nathan Ishikawa exchanged quick glances. ‘He’s very well. Thank you for asking.’
Alejandro nodded, ignoring the fact that Jason’s gaze slid once again to Elise. ‘Send him my congratulations on his upcoming seventy-fifth birthday celebrations.’
Nathan cleared his throat. ‘We will.’ Alejandro waited. The brothers exchanged another glance. ‘Until next time, then, Mr Aguilar. Sayōnara.’ They bowed their heads.
‘I look forward to meeting him when I’m in Kyoto soon.’
‘You’re coming to Japan?’ Jason asked.
Alejandro smiled. ‘Yours isn’t the only deal I’m interested in. I’ll have my PA liaise with yours about dates. Buenos días.’
He disconnected the call to apprehensive faces.
‘I didn’t know you had other business interests in Kyoto,’ Elise said.
‘I don’t, but I will by the end of the day. Specifically with Kenzo Ishikawa. Is your passport up to date?’
She frowned. ‘Yes, it is. Why?’
‘It’s time to put your theory to the test. We leave for Kyoto tomorrow morning.’
* * *
Elise recognised the luxury town car the moment she stepped out of the similar car Alejandro had sent her home in. They’d worked late into the evening, then he’d spent an hour grilling her on Japanese custom. She was exhausted, but in a good way.
But she’d yet to pack for the trip to Japan and Alejandro was picking her up at 7:00 a.m.
Seeing her mother’s lithe, seven-days-a-week-at-the-gym honed body unfold from the back of the car caused her stomach to dip.
And not in a good way.
‘You’re ignoring my phone calls again.’ Marsha Jameson couldn’t be accused of beating about the bush. She was dressed to kill in top-to-toe designer clothes and accessories, and not a hair or eyelash deigned to be out of place.
Elise sighed, her grip tightening on her briefcase. ‘I’m not. I’ve been swamped all day. I texted you back to say so.’
Her mother sniffed. ‘You know how I feel about texts. If I wanted a text conversation with you, I would’ve initiated one.’
‘I intended to call you when I got home.’
Marsha eyed the apartment block with mild distaste. ‘Well, I’m here now.’
Elise raised her eyebrows. ‘Would you like to come in?’ she invited, torn as to whether she wanted the answer to be yes or no.
‘For a minute. I have a pressing engagement in forty-five minutes.’
Ironically, the lifts were downstairs and waiting when they walked in. Elise stepped in, conscious of her mother’s gaze, which held its usual disdain as it drifted over her. ‘Really, Elise. That grey does nothing for you. And why aren’t you wearing any make-up?’
‘I am.’ She refused to continue applying the unnecessary amount of make-up her mother had insisted she wear in the workplace.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed on her face. Thankfully, before she could respond, the lift arrived.
Elise led the way to her door, praying the visit would be quick. But when her mother refused a drink, that pang of hurt made itself very much known.
She sat down on her two-seater while her mother perched on the armchair across from her. Her Realtor had described her apartment as cute. Elise knew her parents would have other, far more unsavoury, terms for it.
‘I spoke to your grandmother today.’
Elise’s stomach dipped further. This house call wasn’t about business. ‘Right.’
‘She told me about the help she’s been giving you.’
‘Is that a problem?’
‘That my mother is helping my daughter do her job? Of course not.’ She sniffed. ‘I just wanted to make sure you understood that if any help she provides you with doesn’t reap the results the client wants, you’re the one who’ll be held responsible.’
Her heart twisted on a fresh wave of pain. ‘You don’t need to spell it out to me, Mom.’
Hazel-gold eyes the same shade as hers snapped irritation. ‘Before you act affronted, I also wanted to say I hope it works out for what you need for SNV.’
Elise’s mouth parted in surprise, but her mother wasn’t finished. ‘I was also alerted by the travel department that you’d requested details of your travel insurance.’
Her mouth snapped shut, the real reason for her mother’s visit slowly unfurling. ‘Yes. I’m accompanying Al—Mr Aguilar to Kyoto tomorrow.’
The flash of interest in her mother’s eyes mildly sickened Elise. ‘I thought so. This is excellent news. He obviously thinks very highly of you.’
‘Obviously.’
Marsha’s gaze hardened. ‘Watch your tone, young lady.’
‘Prove to me that you didn’t drive all the way downtown to dispense the motherly advice I think is coming my way, and I will.’
Her mother stared at her for a moment before she shook her head. ‘I don’t understand you. You’ve had so many opportunities handed to you. And every single time you’ve turned your nose up at it.’
‘Say what you came to say, Mom. Or prove me wrong.’
Her mother’s jaw tightened. ‘What is so wrong with telling you to make the most of this opportunity?’
Pain pierced her. ‘The same way you pushed Brian Grey’s “opportunity” on me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. That was different.’
‘How, Mom? How was it different?’ she demanded.
‘For starters, Alejandro Aguilar is one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. He already sees you as a worthy businesswoman, thanks to your association with Jameson. Capitalise on that and you could become one of the most powerful and iconic women in the world. Of course, I would recommend a trip to a stylist and more care with your hair, but these things can be achieved with a single phone call. Think of what that could mean for Jameson PR. Think of what it could mean for you!’
Blind, foolish tears rushed into Elise’s eyes. ‘Stop, Mom. Please, just stop.’
‘Why? Where’s the harm—’
‘The harm is that I’m not that kind of woman! I won’t sleep with a man just to get ahead. Alejandro already suspects I’m tarred with the famous Jameson brush!’
Fury surged into her mother’s face. But Elise wasn’t afraid. Marsha Jameson’s fury was the quiet, lethal type. She wasn’t prone to ranting or raving. She merely exuded icy rage until the other party deigned to grovel in apology.
But Elise wasn’t in the mood to apologise. That need had diminished significantly over the years. Which was not to say the pain that ravaged her insides had abated one iota. In direct contrast to her mother’s silent condemnation, her pain howled, long and vicious and deep.
So deep, she barely acknowledged her mother’s icy
exit.
Elise only rose when she realised her front door had been left wide open. Evidently, Marsha Jameson’s anger had no room to accommodate thoughts of her daughter’s safety.
After locking the door, Elise went into her bedroom and pulled out her suitcase. The effort not to succumb to tears for the second night in a row nearly failed as she packed. She’d shed enough tears, thanks to fate’s decision over her parentage. She was in grave danger of becoming pathetic.
Straightening her spine, she glanced down at the contents of her suitcase. Seeing the greys and blacks tucked inside, she firmed her lips, determinedly zipped the case shut, and tugged it to the front door.
On impulse she pulled out an old, slightly battered flat case. Then immediately swallowed a sob. Adding it to her suitcase, she showered and went to bed. When a tear slipped free, she reassured herself it was for the dream she’d pushed to the back of her life.
A dream that perhaps wouldn’t remain a dream for long.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE RIDE TO Midway International Airport at what felt like the crack of dawn was non-eventful. Unlike the thumping of her heart as the limo Alejandro had sent for her stopped alongside a huge gleaming white private jet with the SNV logo displayed discreetly on the tail.
‘Mr Aguilar’s already on board, ma’am. Your luggage will be taken care of.’ The impeccably uniformed driver doffed his cap after he helped her out.
As she crossed the Tarmac and mounted the steps, her mother’s words filtered, unbidden, into her mind. Alejandro indeed commanded a powerful top step on the world stage. Thus far, she’d only experienced him in the environs of his company and very briefly at a dinner that only lasted a few hours.
The swiftness with which he’d secured an audience with Kenzo Ishikawa and started a different set of balls rolling in Kyoto had amazed her yesterday. Stepping into the plane and seeing Alejandro seated at a large conference table, a pile of documents at his elbow, while the crew buzzed around in preparation for the flight, she was suddenly struck by the sheer power he wielded.
Power her mother wanted Elise to whore herself to achieve a slice of.
The brightness of the morning dimmed as despair and desolation threatened to sink deeper into her.
‘The quicker you find a seat, the quicker we can take off, Elise.’
She started at the deep drawl. Unwilling to admit what the tenor of that tone did to her see-sawing emotions, she smiled at a crew member who passed her, and made her way across the shockingly spacious midsection to where Alejandro sat. ‘Good morning to you, too.’
He lifted a mocking brow at her, and indicated the seat opposite him. ‘Buenos días. If that sour look is because of the early hour, rest assured, you won’t be required to work the whole thirteen hours of the flight. There are bedrooms on board. Take a nap, if you feel so inclined.’
Elise shook her head. ‘I don’t need a nap,’ she replied, then promptly yawned.
He sent her a speaking glance. ‘Sí, you’re fresh as the proverbial daisy.’
‘I slept badly. So sue me.’
He frowned. ‘Litigation won’t be necessary. We’ve all suffered sleepless nights at one point or other.’
‘I didn’t meant that literally—oh, never mind.’
Tossing his pen onto the table, he sat back and observed her for a full minute before, raising a hand, he summoned an attendant and ordered coffee to be delivered after take-off.
‘I’m surprised I didn’t realise this before,’ he murmured.
‘Realise what?’
‘You’re not a morning person,’ he supplied.
Her attempt at a laugh emerged more like a snort. ‘Compared to what your idea of morning is, no one is a morning person.’
He pressed his fingers into a steeple against his lips, the silky-haired forearms bared by his rolled sleeves flexing in the morning light.
Studiously, Elise averted her gaze from that shockingly sexy display of brawn as the doors were locked and the plane taxied to the runway. She might have condemned her mother for her deplorable suggestions last night, but it didn’t mean her insane attraction for Alejandro had dimmed. In fact, his less formal dress and slightly dishevelled hair only added to his intense appeal.
Once they reached cruising altitude, the attendant arrived with a platter of coffee, bagels and croissants. Seizing at the excuse to occupy herself, she grabbed a bagel, then poured and sugared her coffee, before passing Alejandro a cup of espresso.
‘Gracias.’
When she’d devoured half of the bagel, she glanced at his documents. ‘So what do you need me to do?’
‘I meant what I said. You don’t need to work during the flight.’
She frowned. ‘I’m supposed to twiddle my thumbs for thirteen hours?’
‘I’m attempting to be less...ogre-tastic, Elise. Take advantage of it.’
The words were too similar to those she’d heard a few short hours ago. As absurd as it was, they struck a chord of disquiet. She didn’t want to take advantage of anything or anyone. ‘I’d rather not,’ she bit out.
‘Why do I get the feeling I’ve misstepped?’
A quick investigative glance showed his incisive gaze on her. Elise shook her head, hoping to dispel his interest, but he carried on looking at her.
‘It’s not important. Seriously,’ she stressed when his eyes narrowed.
After a moment he nodded, and returned his attention to his documents. A full hour passed before she lost the battle to stay still. With nothing for her to do but leaf through mindless magazines, her attention continued to stray to Alejandro. The pen he twirled through his fingers became a source of fascination. As did the drift of his fingers down the surface of his tablet.
Enough already.
Looking around, she smiled at the attendant who caught her eye. When he started towards her, she rose from her seat.
And gasped when Alejandro’s hand closed over her wrist. ‘Need something?’
She attempted to speak, despite the heat travelling up her arm. ‘I...yes. I’m not sure how the luggage thing works on private jets. I’m wondering whether I can get access to my stuff. No problem if not...’
Without letting go of her, Alejandro rose to tower over her. ‘Your things were stowed in one of the bedrooms. I’ll show you.’ A jerk of his head dismissed the attendant. Heading to the back of the plane, he indicated a short flight of stairs.
She’d erred on the side of not too casual but with travel comfort in mind when she chose the navy flared skirt and white short-sleeved shirt she was wearing. But now as she went up the stairs she wondered whether her skirt was too short, her shirt a little too clingy.
Hating herself for letting her mother’s views seep into her confidence, she headed towards the single door at the top level and opened it. The bedroom was larger than her apartment’s, with a king-size bed draped in cotton sheets and a blood-red coverlet. On the opposite wall, a high-tech entertainment and drinks centre stood beneath a wide-screen TV, with a dove-grey velvet-covered chaise longue set against one wall. Next to the chaise, she spotted an open closet where her suitcase and art bag had been stashed next to another set of suitcases.
The space was undoubtedly designed for relaxation, but it was the sort of relaxation that had Elise’s breath snagging in her chest and her pulse racing at a frenetic pace.
She heard the door shut behind her and turned. ‘I’ll just grab my stuff and go back down.’
He walked towards her, his pace predatorily graceful in a way that made her want to watch him for a very long time. ‘Why?’ he asked, as if her question was absurd in the extreme.
‘I get the feeling... Is this your bedroom?’ she blurted.
‘Sí. It’s the quietest place on the airplane, thanks to great soundproofing. You won’t be disturbed here.’
But he was disturbing her with his scent, his body and the banked heat emanating from his eyes.
‘I really just want to grab one thing—’
The sight of his manly bronze fingers against the white sheet was so shockingly erotic, Elise felt a clenching between her thighs. Locking her knees, she held her breath as he strolled back to her. His forefinger traced the skin beneath her eyes for several heartbeats before he dropped his hand.
‘There’s a buzzer next to the bed that summons an attendant. Use it when you wake up if you need anything. Lunch will be delivered to you if you wish, or you can come downstairs.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’
He was gone in quick, silent strides. The breath expelled from her lungs in a rush, her heart hammering as if she’d run a marathon.
Walking to the chaise, she sat and dragged a hand down her face. Heaven help her, whatever this fevered sensation was that came over her whenever Alejandro was near, she needed to find a solution to it, and quickly, before she made a fool of herself. Or worse, confirmed his ‘like mother, like daughter’ indictment.
The thought sent a cold shiver through her, dispelling a little of the hot tingles shooting through her body.
Rising, she went to the closet and picked up the extra bag she’d packed last night.
She hadn’t touched her art supplies in years. Elise wasn’t exactly sure why she’d packed it, or why she imagined she’d find solace in her art now when her every attempt in the last few years had felt forced and stilted. But ever since divulging the existence of her art degree to Alejandro, she’d felt a growing need to revisit her discarded dream. To see if, this time, it would speak to her.
Kicking off her shoes, she settled on the bed and set up the collapsible easel before her.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she scrolled through the pages of her sketchbook, revisiting abandoned stories. What if she could never reclaim this lifeline? Her manga creations were what had sustained her through her teenage years. Would they sustain her now? She turned the pages back and read through old sketches, trying to pull herself back into the story.