Exotic: Billionaire Alpha Male Romance (The Pleasure Series Book 2)

by Ryli Jordan

  “Uh huh…” I took another bite.

  “You know when I made this recipe, I thought to myself, the challenge is in getting you to taste it objectively. If I had told you right away that I made the dish just for you, you would have either refused it or hated it in spite of my character. But sending the special order through Tony, ensured that you would taste it with an open mind.”

  I suddenly felt the food tumbling around in my mouth and stopped chewing. Damn, he was right. Knowing that he created the recipe changed every taste, every scent of what I was eating. It went from being divine to tasting…dark…overcooked…something off.

  “No,” I answered. “I wouldn’t have cared if you had made it.”

  “Really?” he asked, returning to his plate which I can only assume was a Tony Sparko original, since he didn’t seem to love the meal. He was more enthralled with staring me down, hoping for a reaction that I would not give him.

  “I have no qualms about eating something you’ve made. I trust that you’re not lacing my food with arsenic.”

  “Hmm, at least we have that trust between us. More than I can say for my ex-staff who love talking to reporters,” he said.

  “But no, ordinarily I would not go to dinner with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “General principle.”

  “I know. We’re only sitting here together because of business.”

  “Yes! Come to think of it, where is Mister Fairwell, anyway? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

  “He should be,” Kenneth said looking at his watch. “But while we’re here, I do want to say one thing. I apologize if I said anything the first time we met that put you off of me.”

  “Oh? Why would you apologize?”

  “Because, little lady, I’m being humble about it.”

  I laughed. “Wow, you really are so humble. You know little lady is very John Wayne. It’s not considered a compliment in the modern time.”

  “Damn, Staci. I can’t see any reason for you to hate my entire being. You said it yourself. I’m a spoiled rich boy. I’m making amends. And you’re helping me. Peace, love and goodwill. Right?”

  “That’s the problem, I don’t think anything you say or do is sincere,” I said.

  “What is sincerity, anyway?” he asked, rolling his eyes and going off on a rant while I continued to taste the Risotto in a brand new way. It was a bit sweeter than I remembered tasting it on the first bite.

  “Is it sincere that America apologized to Native Americans or Africans? No. Is it sincere that Enron apologized for their corruption? Apologies are meaningless. None of it means anything,” Knox said.

  “So what is the point of this non-apology?”

  “Apologizing is insulting to someone’s intelligence. I’m not going to apologize for being who I am. I talk fast, I think fast, I sometimes steam roll over people’s feelings because I’m thinking about tomorrow’s work today. And it makes no sense apologizing for being someone I’m not, someone who the media depicts me to be, to sell more tabloid stories. So my question to you, Miss Abrahams, is how many people have I massacred in cold blood, prompting an insincere apology?”

  I sighed and stared him in the face. “All right. Non-apology accepted.”

  “That’s marvelous.”

  “So should we call Fairwell and see why he’s late?”

  “Well he might be late due to that unfortunate office emergency he mentioned earlier today.”

  “What?”

  “Right, I forgot to mention that. He phoned me and said we would have to reschedule. But he also added that there’s no use throwing away the reservation. So I told him we’d have a meeting in his honor.”

  “You bastard,” I said, folding my arms. By now, the meal tasted stringy and bitter, flavors I hadn’t notice until now.

  “Underhanded, maybe. But you have to admit this was the only way I could get you to open up to me.”

  “This is a business meeting!”

  “Of course it is. Let’s talk about cooking.”

  “I hate the Risotto.”

  “Great. So that’s business. Now how about us? Would you like me to cook you something European next time?”

  Finally, I smiled. His arrogance was turning my frown upside down, but damned if I would let him know that. “There’s not going to be any next time.”

  “Why not? We don’t always have to talk business you know.”

  “Because, Knox, I don’t like you in that way,” I snapped. Oops, that wasn’t quite the truth. I did like him in that way but I couldn’t like him. This was business only, not pleasure.

  “You do like me in that way.” He leaned in closer, turning his body towards me and moving my bare leg with the slit in between his leg. At this point, I was shocked at his boldness. “Your body is calling me Staci. This evening your lips have been calling me to plant a kiss,” he said. I starting feeling flush. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or his hands both caressing my knee. His touch was warm and insistent. My breathing was scant but he was steady and sure. “Right now, I swear I hear your dress calling me to undress you, I know you want to give me a glimpse.”

  I stared at is eyes which were piercing and I felt my clit throbbing. Fighting my feelings, I spoke up, “I don’t want to go to dinner with you. I don’t want to sleep with you. Got it?”

  He stared back still holding my knee. “All right, duly noted.”

  I tried to resume my breathing and regain my senses. I straightened my slit as much as I could, crossing my legs tightly in my lap. Knox barely moved back to his place so I scooted away a bit more. “And if Fairwell isn’t coming to dinner, I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  I got up to storm out and sent one final look at Knox, who was still giving me a furl in my eyebrows.

  “Oh one more thing, Miss Abrahams.”

  “What?!”

  “You owe me fifty dollars for the Japanese Risotto.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Well, you said this is business not personal.” He smiled and folded his arms, trolling me good while I gathered my credit card. My fingers danced in angry fury. I grabbed that credit card hard and flung it down with a warrior’s wrath!

  ***

  Hours later, I have to admit the whole thing was kind of funny, in that twisted Knox sort of way, that does seem true to his arrogant character. He refused my credit card, citing he was only joking about the meal.

  His blue eyes were so haunting though. They are dark with hints of silver flecks. What he said at dinner and the way he looked at me at times made me horny. I put my walls up strong, but he was wearing me down. He was lean and fit, I could see the definition of his biceps through his clothes. How and the world did he stay in such good shape as a chef? I figured he was about six foot tall as he was a few inches taller than me with my heels on.

  I can’t lie that I didn’t feel a strong connection to his bad-assery. Shit, it was a secret turn on. Biting my lips, I thought about his big hands and course veins were visible when his muscles flex. Men had no idea how sexy their masculine veins were. I had to stay the course. Keeping Knox as a client was great for my career. I knew mixing business with pleasure was not a good idea. So we would never date. Too bad I would just have to fantasize about him, after our meetings of course.

  He called me later that night. I was still very amused at how he fake apologized and was now fake-apologizing again. I have to admit, listening to his comment about how he feels only mass murderers “apologize”, did get me thinking. Why was I so harsh with him? He definitely was not my typical date. Why was he not my type? Was it because he was rich or because of what the media said about him?

  I answered the phone.

  “So…on a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me right now? That way, I can gauge the level of awkwardness that I’ll have to deal with on Wednesday when I see you next week.”

  “Probably a 7,” I giggled.

  “I’m surprised it’s so high. That gives me s
ome hope. Now, maybe, as long as I don’t aggressively try to sleep with you, we can actually co-exist like human beings.”

  “Yeah but…you’re not going to stop doing that, are you?” I couldn’t help but giggle and he did it back to me.

  “I like you, Staci.”

  “I’m just telling you, Knox. So there’s no misunderstanding later on…I’m not going to sleep with you. And I don’t want you to spend all your tactics trying to change my mind. You’re playing a losing card.”

  “Well it’s my gamble, isn’t it? Like money. I’ve lost money in Vegas before. I kissed that money goodbye and loved it.”

  “Really? Didn’t bother you at all? To lose?”

  “Not one bit. It hurt a little at first…but then I just got drunk and jumped into bed with some supermodels. I recovered remarkably.”

  I shook my head. I’m sure he heard my voice tighten. “You have a very eccentric view of love.”

  “Nobody believes in love anymore, do they? We’re all just having a bit of fun.”

  The sad thing was, I really didn’t argue with his statement. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say in defense of love. I bid him goodnight and damned if I had to admit, the idea of his taunting personality paired with fine wine and more exotic recipes wasn’t appealing on a lonely night.

  But more so than my loneliness, I had to believe in my principles. If I felt Knox was trouble, I had to keep him far away. Because if I don’t have my scruples, what am I? Why do I even exist? I didn’t accept any follow up date. But I did speak to him again, this time looking him in the face, and all too aware that all he wanted in life—at least at that moment—was to cook for me and then eat me for dessert.

  And I had to keep reminding myself that was a bad thing. Not just because it’s wrong to get involved with people you work with, but also because I just didn’t want to be one of many “recipes” the man had shoved in his rolodex of human beings he could exploit.

  But maybe the least of what I owed him was a smile, with fake interest to counter for his fake apologies.

  ***

  “Hello Miss Abrahams!” he said Wednesday morning, quite mirthfully, always with a flirty head tilt.

  “Good morning, handsome!” I said, giving him what he wanted…the silly illusion that some day he could have his way with me. Have his “cake” and eat it too. Ohhh, I’ll bet he’d enjoy that wouldn’t he? These billionaire guys…all the same. They want what doesn’t want them and then once they get it…they hate it with a passion.

  Fakeness was to define our relationship, which was fine by me. But maybe someday, I could teach him how to be real.

  Chapter 5

  Staci

  It took a little bit of sweet talking and craft maneuvering, but eventually Knox got me to come out to dinner again…but only with my insistence that there be a third party this time, for this exclusive business dinner. Indeed, he did find someone of interest, his longtime childhood friend Ray Valenti.

  The premise was that they had met to discuss the island Knox owned. Ray was planning to rent it out for a family get-together with his new girlfriend, Julie. Ray also wanted to discuss a cross promotional charity function with Kenneth, and as his primary financial planner, my appearance was requested.

  I could have said no, I suppose, realizing that ultimately Knox was going to do what he wanted and I would just have to sigh and plan around it. But I appreciated all the effort he put into his ruse of official business—just another excuse to get me in a formal dress.

  “I’m sorry Julia couldn’t come,” Ray said. “She had a big interview to do elsewhere.”

  “Yeah right,” whined Knox, already feeling ego-slapped. “Like there’s a bigger story than Ray Valenti and Kenneth Free.”

  What an ego on that one.

  “Believe it or not,” Ray teased, “you’re not the center of the universe to some people. Tell him that, Staci.”

  “Sorry, that’s too much information for Mister Free to digest in one sitting.”

  We laughed it over. I found it curious that when Knox was talking to Ray, he seemed more relaxed and “normal” than I usually saw him in business hours, not to mention in the way he dealt with women. When he was around women he was instantly “on” and entertaining them. When he was in business he was barking orders. But when he was with associates…people he neither needed nor despised…he just seemed rather melancholy.

  “Ray and I have been friends since childhood,” Knox said. “I knew Ray even before I had my housekeeper, and she’s been with me for ages.”

  “How did you two meet, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Well it wasn’t over food,” Ray said caustically.

  “No it wasn’t, you don’t deserve my cooking,” he teased back. My father, Jack, just introduced me to him one day. Said he was the boy down the street. And that usually meant some miscreant was here who I was forced to make friends with because he had no social skills.”

  “Yes poor you. I was the neighbor that went with you into every rock concert, movie and road trip to Spring Break. However did you survive?”

  “Well it wasn’t all bad,” Knox said, as we all laughed. “And before I became a cook, I did actually make sandwiches, didn’t I?”

  “He did,” Ray said. “They weren’t very good, however. Nothing gourmet.”

  “No, you jackass, it was before I went to school.”

  “I do take delight in telling people I was fed by Knox Free and I hated the meal. Unequivocally hated it. Terrible recipe, the man can’t assemble a sandwich worth shit.”

  I listened to the two bicker on for a while as we ate another exotic meal at Furio’s, another restaurant that Kenneth picked out, as a somewhat non-competitive chef specializing in Haitian food that he respected.

  Knox loved everybody…as long as the person wasn’t vaguely threatening his career!

  After Ray dismissed himself, I felt oddly inclined to listen to more of Knox’s non-celebrity self, making jokes and making non-scandalous statements that sounded like something close to human and decent.

  “I rather enjoy doing work for climate change. As much as possible, I want to give towards the Green Works people. They have a great attitude.”

  “Yes they do. See, I told you there was happiness in giving.”

  He scoffed, “did you plagiarize Jesus Christ with that?”

  “Yes, totally ripped off Jesus. I can’t believe I didn’t fool you, Ken.”

  “Well, I’m very well read. I read a lot, you know. Literature and all that.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Jesus. Buddha. Nixon…”

  “Uh huh?” I said, smiling, as he kept up the bullshit. “Who else?”

  “Stephen King. Mary Shelley.”

  “Oh really?”

  “The guy who wrote the zombie book. You know, the original one. Not the knock offs.”

  “I’m very impressed with your knowledge of literature,” I said, finding his childish eyes. He seemed enthralled with my presence, and constantly looking over my satin dress. I had his attention…but only as long as he couldn’t touch me.

  “Ah, I did read one book that I remember.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Like Water for Chocolate. Esquivel was her name, I believe.”

  “And?”

  “I thought the recipes were a bit predictable.”

  “The recipes?”

  “Well yeah. I mean the story was okay…human drama. Love, or disappointment and what not. I usually just pay attention to the recipes.”

  “But don’t like the drama so much?”

  “Not really. When I taste something for the first time, I tend to remove all thought and mood. I cleanse my mind because I want the taste to be pure instinct. Not affected at all by the moment or by the day. If I’m having a particularly bad day, I’ll just as soon eat hoagies all day long. It’s not fair to the food, you see.”

  “Now that is an interesting viewpoint. Who did you steal it fr
om?”

  We walked down the crowded street, back to our respective cars. Perhaps I was a little ashamed to admit that I wanted to continue our casual conversation. The night was young and we had so much more to say to each other.

  But our business talk was over. I had nothing more to say in a professional setting. And suddenly, our conversation felt…insincere.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you next Wednesday then.”

  “Let’s go somewhere,” he said, for once, minus the smirk or snark. He really seemed as if he was having fun and just craved my company. “Come on why not try-”

  I squinted my eyes and then my entire face, trying to think of the nice way of putting a rather mean-spirited thought.

  “Kenneth…no matter what you say, it’s not going to work.”

  “Well…if you already made up your mind.”

  “I have. And for what it’s worth…it’s not really your fault.”

  “You mean I’m not a vain, shallow and despicable person?”

  “Oh you are, but…”

  He laughed and I couldn’t stop from sending back a sincere smile. “If I were a girl…I’d be fascinated by you. I’m not a girl anymore. I have…stuff.”

  “I have stuff too,” he said, almost as if bragging. His dark blue eyes were playful. I could stare at them all night.

  “I’m sure you do. So let’s just say goodnight.”

  “See you next Wednesday, then.”

  “I look forward to it, Mister Knox.”

  “All right, Staci.”

  ***

  The next Wednesday came around and it was a day of hectic travel for me. I had to run around all morning talking to clients and negotiating contracts. Then in the afternoon I had to run back to my firm, check on some stocks, and then run back for my consultation with Knox. As soon as I saw him I had to deliver bad news.

  “Sorry really busy today, we may not be able to go over it all.”

  “Oh, all right. Well…”

  Just then my cell phone rang and it was my firm partner freaking out about a possible shift in a campaign. I needed to go to the office for an emergency planning meeting.