“This is exquisite. Beautiful and classic,” Shiva emphasized. “But that one will make sure you are the queen of the ball...”
Alessandra looked over as the white silk drape was snatched with dramatic flair from the body form. She gasped a bit as the light from the window seemed to shine like a spotlight on the gown. The moment was very cliché, but also very fitting. The dress was amazing. “It’s not...too much?” she asked in a whisper, like a child in a library trying not to get caught talking.
“It’s just enough,” Shiva said, her voice a whisper, as well.
Alessandra stepped from behind the black frock Shiva held to stand before the dress form.
“Millicent who?” Shiva asked.
Alessandra looked over her shoulder to give her a look, like, “Really, Shiva?”
The woman shrugged.
“I’ll try it on,” Alessandra said, heading back to one of the dressing rooms.
“Yes! Take that, Alek Ansah!” Shiva exclaimed in victory, well aware of Alessandra’s rocky relationship with the man.
Maybe it’s time for the ice queen to serve up a little heat.
* * *
Alessandra was anxious to get to the office. Shiva was having the dress delivered to the Lake House in the morning. It was time to get refocused on work. The final printed proposals were to be on her desk before she walked through the door. She had no doubt that they were.
“The side entrance, Roje,” she requested, her eyes looking out the window at the busy New York traffic.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice rough and his Jamaican accent clear.
He drove the vintage Jaguar down the one-way street and parked outside the art deco building that spoke to its creation in the 1930s. She tucked her clutch under her arm and slid on her shades as he left the car and came around to open the rear door for her. Sliding her hand inside the one he offered, she stepped onto the street. She wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone, and the private entrance was ideal. On the opposite side of the building, Alek had his own, as well.
She paused to look up at the bright sunlight breaking through the tall buildings. For a moment, she just enjoyed the feel of the sun and thought back to a simpler time when she would lie by the pool and read literary classics when she wasn’t doing volunteer work for one of her many humanitarian efforts.
Her smile was melancholy as she turned and entered the pass code to the nondescript-looking door. The shadow of Roje’s large body behind her was comforting as he reached around her to open the door to a narrow and short hall leading directly to a private elevator that only stopped on the penthouse floor. She hardly used this entrance, preferring the massive and elaborate entrance into the front lobby.
The well-worn black-and-white checkerboard tile and the ornate wrought iron door to the elevator spoke to its originality to the building. Although the security features had been updated, nothing else had been touched.
The outer door closed behind them and locked as she pressed her thumb to the fingerprint reader. The lock echoed in the small space.
Clank.
“Have a good day, Ms. Dalmount,” Roje said, opening the wrought iron gate.
Alessandra stepped inside and removed her shades, tucking them inside her purse. “Same to you, Roje.”
With a nod, he turned and exited. Just as the elevator began to ascend, she watched on the security monitor in the corner as he climbed into the vehicle and pulled away, leaving the street empty.
She allowed a break in her usual cool demeanor as she fidgeted anxiously and fought the urge to press the button again for the top level of the building as if that would speed its journey there. “Relax, Alex,” she said, reverting to her childhood nickname.
The elevator came to a stop and opened into the hall just outside her terrace entrance. She barely spared the elegant and spacious outdoor setting a glance as she made her way across the large expanse. Her footsteps echoed her quick pace to reach her desk.
She dropped her briefcase and purse on her desk as she eyed the stack of leather folders. She immediately picked one up and sat down in her chair to pore over every word, photo and graph on every page. She hardly noticed when she heard Unger arrive to work and begin his day. Soon, he quietly entered and sat a cup of lemon tea on her desk. At home, the lavender relaxed her before a full day of work, and at the office the lemon invigorated her.
He knew her routine well.
Taking a sip of her tea, she gave the pitch a careful final perusal for error. She refused to let a typo or an error by the printer ruin her presentation to the board. Alessandra nodded her head in approval as she closed the folder and then settled back in her chair. She was ready for her presentation to the board in the morning. Is he?
Alessandra rose from her seat and walked over to the glass-front wine cooler to remove a bottle of 1995 Krug Clos d’Ambonnay champagne and grabbed two flutes from her bar. She tucked one of the proposal packets under her arm.
She walked behind her desk to the shelves of books lining the wall. With a gentle push against the shelf to the far right, it swung open, revealing a long, windowless concrete hallway that ran along the back wall of the boardroom and connected to Alek’s office on the other end. Another of the secrets the building held.
Her father had shown it to her ages ago when she was six or seven.
It was her first time using it. Would Alek be shocked by it? Alessandra shrugged. “Well, let’s see,” she said.
Her heels clicked against the dull concrete, echoing against the unadorned walls, as she reached the other end.
She was surprised when the door opened suddenly and his presence filled the doorway. She felt slightly flustered at the sight of him sans jacket with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened.
He motioned with his hand for her to enter before turning to walk back into his office.
“I’ve been summoned,” she whispered as she followed him, disappointed that she couldn’t surprise him.
In the three weeks since they moved offices she’d never ventured into his space before. The similarities were clear, although his had more of a masculine and modern edge. As he continued on his call she looked down at the framed photos on the edge of his massive desk. She recognized his mother and siblings. Um, Naim and Samira.
The entire family was beautiful, brown and bold.
“Let me call you back. I have a...visitor,” Alek said before swiftly hitting a button on his phone and then removing his earbud.
Alessandra set the champagne and flutes on a clear spot on his desk. “Video surveillance, Alek? Really?” she asked, spotting the digital images on his iPad. “Thank goodness I didn’t sneak a nose pick.”
“It’s your nose, Alessandra,” he said, shifting his weight in the chair before leaning back and smoothing his hand over his beard as he watched her with those dark eyes.
Her heartbeat went awry under his watchful gaze. “I thought we should celebrate,” she said, lightly tapping the cork on the bottle.
Alek gave her a once-over before leaning forward to take it from her.
She instantly felt warmed by the slight touch of his fingers against her hand. “This weekend we celebrate thirty years of ADG and our official claim to the thrones of the empire our fathers created together,” she said, discreetly wiping her hand against her thigh as if she could erase the slight tingle that remained from his touch.
Alek opened the rare bottle with ease and filled each of the flutes slowly.
“Even if you’ve made it clear you don’t think I deserve it just as much as you just because I use the facilities sitting down instead of standing up,” she said smoothly before accepting the flute he handed her.
He chuckled. “To the Ansah Dalmount Group,” he said, holding his drink out to her.
Alessandra arched a brow and lightly touched her flute to his before ta
king a deep sip. “And to the completion of a comprehensive report that will seal the ZiCorp deal tomorrow. Salute.”
Alek fell just short of taking a sip as he paused the flute and eyed her over the rim. “I’m going to hate to see such a beautiful woman filled with disappointment,” he said before finally allowing himself a large gulp of the smooth champagne that was well worth the four-figure price tag.
“My beauty is of no relevance to this conversation,” she said, moving to sit on the edge of his desk.
“Of no relevance but very hard to deny,” Alek said in a low voice, rising from his seat to come around and lean against the desk beside her. His shoulder brushed against hers.
Alessandra’s heart fluttered as if filled with the wings of a million butterflies.
“I’m not equipped to handle all this...flattery, Alek,” she began, giving him a side-eye as she subtly shifted her body to place a few inches between them. “I left my boots at home.”
He eased his body over to close the gap she created. The warmth of his body and his cologne were overwhelming. Why did I come in here to play with fire?
Her awareness of Alek Ansah wasn’t diminishing. Being in his presence made her senses go on alert. And the fact that he seemed as unable to hide his desire for her as he was his antagonism was its own kind of torture.
She stood up and tilted her head back to finish off the champagne before she turned and walked to the hidden door. His mocking and all too telling chuckle followed by her. Aware that his eyes were on her, she measured her steps because she didn’t want it to appear that she was running again...even though she was.
“Non abbiate paura di ottenere una regina calda e bella del ghiaccio.”
She paused at his words spoken fluently in Italian. She thought of the gown she would wear to the ball and if that would prove that the ice queen was not afraid to get hot. “Just how many languages do you speak, Alek?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Five,” he answered. “But I will only speak to you in one of the four you speak, Alessandra.”
She turned, her hand lightly grasping the edge of the portal. “And how many does Millicent speak?” she asked.
His handsome face filled with the surprise she sought earlier.
Alessandra held up her hand when he began to speak. “Don’t answer that. I’m sure when you two are together she doesn’t speak because her mouth is full,” she said slyly.
Alek laughed. Loud and boisterous, with his head flung back and his beautiful mouth opened wide. He clapped. “Good one, Alessandra. Very good one. You’re very quick on your feet.”
“Goodbye, Alek,” she said.
“And you’re jealous,” he added.
Yes. I am.
She walked back over to where he still leaned against the edge of his desk to stand before him. With a lick of her glossed lips, she reached for his tie and gently wrapped the ends around her fist to tug him forward until their faces were inches apart.
Their eyes locked.
Their breaths mingled in that small air between their mouths.
That primal awareness between them pulsed with life.
His eyes dipped to take in her pouty mouth before rising back to her eyes. She saw the heat of desire in the ebony depths.
“I am jealous of the one thing I can’t seem to get from you,” she whispered, her words pressing against his hungry mouth. “And that’s your respect.”
His face filled with shock. “Huh?”
It was Alessandra’s turn to chuckle as she released his silk tie and smoothed it against his chest.
Oh my God. I can feel his muscles.
She suppressed her urge to roughly tear his custom shirt open and press her hands greedily to his abdomen. “Goodbye and good luck tomorrow, Alek,” she said, quickly moving away from him.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist. His touch was electrifying.
She shivered, trying in vain to tug free of his strong hold.
And then suddenly he released her and stood to move past her, tipping his head back to finish the rest of his champagne. “Leave, Alessandra,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “Get out.”
Alessandra hurried out of his office through the secret passageway, surprised by his anger. She had barely taken two steps into the hall when the door closed and the turn of the lock echoed around her. She looked back and then up until she spotted the small camera in the corner.
Her face was stoic as she turned and walked the length of the hall with measured steps until she, too, was behind her closed and locked hidden door.
Chapter 4
Alek was still haunted by that moment in his office with Alessandra earlier that day. Not even his attendance at a luxurious dinner party hosted by his best friend, Chance Castillo, at his estate in Alpine, New Jersey, could free him of the hot memory. Her taunt had angered him because he fell for it. In that moment with nothing but space and opportunity between them, he had wanted to feel the softness of her mouth on his own. He didn’t want to hunger for Alessandra, but he did. At odd moments of the day he imagined just how he would stoke the same fire from her in passion as he did in anger. During meetings, she would distract him with the smell of her perfume or the cut of her clothing on her curvaceous body. At night, when he tried to rest she was there in his dreams, causing him to awaken with an aching erection like a virginal schoolboy.
He wanted Alessandra Dalmount. Badly. In a rushed, hot, rip your clothes off and fill her with every hard inch you got while up against the wall kind of way.
He swore into his snifter of Grand Marnier Cuvée 1880.
“Something wrong, stranger?”
Alek looked up from where he sat on the bench of a nine-foot Brazilian rosewood Steinway grand piano to find his ex-wife, Kenzay. She wore a white lace romper that exposed the silk bralette and panty beneath it. The color looked fabulous against her deep brown complexion and highlighted her long, shapely legs. During their marriage, they would have argued about such a revealing outfit, but now he just enjoyed the show.
Rising to his feet, he grabbed her waist to pull her close for a hug. “Hello, stranger,” he whispered in her ear before planting a warm kiss to her lobe.
She squeezed his elbows. “I called you the last time I was in town,” she said. “I needed a fix.”
He leaned back from her to look in her eyes. He couldn’t help but smile. He knew they shared the memory of hot sex in an elevator when they last saw each other months ago.
“You know what seeing you in a tux does to me,” she whispered in his ear.
Yes. Yes, he did.
Ding-ding-ding.
The varied conversations of the dinner guests died down as everyone in the music room turned to Chance’s butler standing near the entrance of the dining room. “Dinner is served,” he said, turning to push open the double doors, exposing a table set for twenty with tall elaborate glass-blown floral arrangements and candle lighting. Chance’s taste ran toward vibrant and colorful contemporary style. It was an environment that spoke to his fun-loving personality.
The crowd began to move forward.
Kenzay slid her arm around his.
“Shouldn’t you care if I have a date?” Alek asked as they followed the throng.
“Not at all,” she assured him.
They made their way into the dining room.
“Alek,” Chance said to him from the head of the table, patting the seat to his right.
With Kenzay still attached to him, Alek made his way to his seat. He held the chair next to him for her to slide her tall frame into before he claimed his own.
“Kenzay, I didn’t know you were in town,” Chance said, spreading his bright red napkin across his lap.
“I just got in today,” Kenzay said, reaching under the ebony wood table to massage Alek’s inner thigh. “I had to come and ge
t something I wanted.”
Alek just shook his head, denying her as he removed her hand, gently setting it back in her own lap. He saw the surprise and anger in her eyes before she masked them.
Kenzay did not like to be denied.
He looked across the table at Chance’s girlfriend of the last six months, Helena Guzman. She was a petite, almost waiflike, fair-skinned beauty with waist-length blond hair as bone-straight as her frame. “Have you met Kenzay?” he asked as one of the servers set his plate atop the red square charger before him on the table.
Helena smiled and looked across the table at Kenzay. “Actually, I invited her,” she admitted, her Cuban accent very subtle. “We met years ago at boarding school in Switzerland.”
Alek and Chance shared a brief look before they both smiled in disbelief.
“Surprise, surprise,” Kenzay said, having leaned close to whisper in his ear.
Ding-ding-ding.
Alek stopped feasting on the delicious Cuban dinner as his friend and host rose from his seat with his fork and his glass in his hand. The swinging doors leading from the kitchen opened, and the uniformed servers entered the dining room carrying trays of flutes filled with champagne.
“What now, Chance?” Alek asked playfully as he accepted his flute.
Everyone seated around the table laughed or chuckled.
Chance nodded his head in acquiescence. “Well, first I would like to officially welcome my friend—my brother—back to New York. We have all missed your constant presence—and your smart mouth—over the last five years.”
Alek smiled and lifted his flute slightly in thanks.
“I am surrounded by friends and family, and I could not think of a better time to share some good news,” he said, holding out his free hand to Helena.
She rose to stand beside Chance and captured his hand in the middle of both of hers.
Everyone at the table stirred and murmurs rose.
Chance dropped his head and smiled. “Let me get to it, since I can tell guesses have been made,” he said. “Last week Helena graciously accepted my proposal to become my bride.”
A Billionaire Affair Page 5
