A Billionaire Affair

by Niobia Bryant

  “She needs you,” was all that he said.

  Alessandra had been working out of the London offices for the last month, needing a break from Alek and her foolish feelings for him. That night she had fled home to Passion Grove, falling into a crying heap at her aunt’s feet in her bedroom suite. When Alek came to the security gate she had been safely ensconced in a ball in the middle of her aunt’s bed and Leonora had gone down to the gate to lie to him for her. Alessandra had never appreciated her more.

  The next morning, she packed an overnight bag and headed out on the company jet for an early flight to London. There was an executive penthouse apartment in London, but Alek had resided there for five years and she knew it would be too much to take. She spent one night at the Four Seasons Hotel and the next day moved into a spacious four-bedroom, four-bathroom furnished home after a call to Harrods Estates. Shiva arrived for the day to shop for her wardrobe, organize her massive walk-in closet, and find a hairdresser/makeup artist to use while she was in London.

  That Monday she was spit-shined and polished for her first day working out of the London office without a bit of notice to her team of her arrival. That had been fun to see them all scramble to accommodate one of their bosses.

  Between exploring England and work, she had almost been able to forget him.

  Almost.

  Her hurt was still there. It still nagged at her, but time had dulled it to an ache and not a piercing pain that radiated. She felt better prepared to return to the offices Monday with her head held high and her dignity and poise intact.

  As they drove past the frozen heart-shaped pond, she sat up to look at all the townspeople either ice-skating or figure skating, their faces filled with joy and happiness. I’m home, she thought, sitting back when the frivolity on the lake was no longer in sight.

  Soon they were coasting up the long driveway to the house. “The main house, Roje,” she said.

  “Luggage, too?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded as he pulled to a stop before exiting to open her door and assist her out.

  “Thank you, Roje,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

  As she walked up the steps she paused, turning to look at Roje removing her hard-side suitcase from the trunk. “Roje, how are you?” she asked.

  Myriad emotions showed on his face ranging from surprise to understanding.

  He knew she was asking of LuLu Ansah.

  He smiled. “The same,” he said.

  She offered him a smile and left it at that. There was a line of privacy she was trying not to cross. She took it to the line and leaned against it, but she did not want to step over.

  As soon as she opened one of the towering double doors to enter the foyer, the twins came running across her path with high-pitched squeals. “Harper and Parker!” she shouted.

  They stopped and turned to look at her. Their eyes were wide and their little barrel chests heaved with their exertion.

  “Walk where you’re going,” she said sternly. “You’re not outside. Respect my house.”

  They looked at each other briefly before looking back at her.

  “Do you understand me?” she asked, knowing they were confused by being disciplined by her. “Yes, ma’am or no, ma’am?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison desolately.

  “Shoo-shoo,” she said.

  They walked away holding hands but soon she heard their feet pounding the floors as they upped it back to a run. Memories of her time in the guesthouse with Alek made it uninhabitable for Alessandra and she was moving back into the master suite in the main house. The twins would have to be reined in. In fact, everyone would. Aunt Leonora’s drinking. Aunt Brunela’s resentment for not being given the same opportunity as her niece. Victor’s philandering with staff. His wife’s lackluster discipline of the twins.

  She walked to the side of the grand staircase to take the hall leading into the dining room. Aunt Leonora stood beside her aunt Brunela, who sat at the table with her head bent and her shoulders shaking with tears.

  “I’m sure Marisa is okay, sis,” Leonora said, picking up a half-filled glass tumbler of heavily diluted orange.

  “Where is Marisa?” Alessandra asked, coming to stand behind one of the parson chairs.

  They both looked to her in surprise before coming over to hug her and press a kiss to her cheek.

  “Thank God you’re back,” Brunela said, wiping her tears with a satin handkerchief that was already damp from her weeping. “You’re the only one Marisa listens to, Alessandra.”

  “What happened?” she asked, feeling alarmed.

  “She’s been partying pretty hard lately,” Leonora said. “And didn’t come home last night at all.”

  Brunela cried out in anguish and slumped back down onto her chair.

  Driving Marisa around has been an...adventure.

  Roje.

  She turned and quickly strode down the length of the hall.

  “Alessandra, where are you going?” Leonora called behind her.

  “Hopefully to find Marisa,” Alessandra said over her shoulder before she flung the door open and raced down the steps.

  Roje was just pulling off in the Jag.

  Alessandra waved frantically to get his attention.

  He stopped and lowered the window.

  “Did you drive Marisa last night?” she asked as she rushed over to the car.

  He shook his smooth bald head. “She drove one of the cars to a weekend party.”

  “You know where?” Alessandra asked, already climbing in the back of the car.

  “She texted me the address when she wanted me to drive her at first.”

  “Take me there, please,” she said, rotating her head on her neck to remove the tension steadily building.

  “Right away,” Roje said, accelerating down the drive.

  As he drove through the streets of Passion Grove and then out toward Manhattan, Alessandra wrestled with whether to share with her aunts what Roje told her about Marisa using cocaine. She’d come home from London earlier than she planned to try to get her cousin in rehab.

  Roje slowed the Jaguar to a stop in front of a modest brick home in a suburban neighborhood forty minutes outside of Midtown Manhattan. Alessandra looked around at the tree-lined streets filled with modest homes with cars and SUVs parked nearly bumper-to-bumper. “You sure this is the right address, Roje?” she asked.

  His head bent as he looked down at his phone to double-check the address. “This is it,” he said, looking through the driver’s-side window.

  “Okay, I don’t see any parking, so you circle the block and come back to pick us up,” she said, climbing from the back of the car and pulling the red wool coat she wore tighter around the white T-shirt and distressed jeans she wore with high-heeled boots.

  Alessandra walked up the snow-covered path to the small stoop. She was admittedly nervous as she rang the doorbell. She looked up and down the stretch of homes as she waited.

  The door opened and a tall, slender woman with bright red hair and freckles stood there. “Yes?” she said.

  “I was looking for Marisa. Is she still here?” Alessandra said, looking past her at the living room. Her eyes widened to see her cousin stark naked and dancing atop a table.

  She brushed past the redhead, already removing her coat, as she reached up to snatch Marisa down off the table. The crowd of people in the living room either laughed or complained. Alessandra ignored them all as she wrapped the coat around her cousin’s nakedness. “We’re leaving now,” she said as Marisa tried to resist her, but was too high to muster the strength to succeed.

  Boom.

  Alessandra froze as the front door flew wide open and the police in SWAT gear rushed inside the house as people scattered.

  “Ever
ybody down,” several police officers roared.

  “Uh-oh, we in trouble now, coz,” Marisa whispered, before bursting into a fit of foolish giggles.

  * * *

  More than thirty days had passed and his love for Alessandra had not faded one bit. But she also had not returned from London or spoken to him outside of conference calls to deal with their business. He ached for her. Still.

  With a sigh, he looked down at a photo he’d taken of her the night of the Jubilee Ball from across the room. He’d never told her about the picture, and over the last month he’d often turn to it when he missed her in his life, his bedroom and their boardroom. She wasn’t at all the wife he envisioned over the years but he couldn’t imagine loving anyone else the way he cared for Alessandra.

  He put away his phone and looked over his shoulder from where he sat at the front of the church’s sanctuary. Although Chance and Helena had planned their wedding in just a month, the church was filled with their guests and elaborately decorated with flowers and white satin. Through the clear glass panes at the top of the entry doors he spotted Chance and Helena in the vestibule talking emphatically. She was in her gown and veil, but it was clear Chance’s face was lined with anger.

  This ain’t looking good.

  When the wedding planner, Olivia Joy, quietly entered the sanctuary Alek rose and made his way to her.

  He forced himself to keep his pace slow and leisurely as he made his way down the side aisle, ignoring the curious looks of his own family. “What’s going on?” he asked Olivia when he reached her.

  She leaned in close. “The wedding’s off,” she whispered to him.

  Alek’s eyes widened in surprise. “Okay, let me check on my boy,” he said, opening the door when she eased from in front of it.

  The front doors to the church were wide open and Chance stood in the doorway taking the brunt of the December chill that blew in. “You okay, Chance?” he asked, coming to stand beside him.

  Chance shrugged one shoulder as he shook his head. “Elegir una esposa más bien por su oído que su ojo,” he said.

  Choose a wife rather by your ear than your eye. Alek remained quiet; he didn’t know Helena very well and their relationship had been a whirlwind.

  “She’s gone. She was double-dipping with her ex and seems he didn’t have a problem sharing the goodies as long as she wasn’t a wife,” he said, his voice cold.

  Alek winced. He hadn’t seen that coming.

  “I’m sorry, Chance,” he said, reaching over to give his shoulder a solid but comforting pat.

  Chance clenched his jaw. “Usted debe cumplir la aspereza con la aspereza,” he said, the usual warmth in his eyes replaced with bristling anger.

  You must meet roughness with roughness.

  Alek dropped his hand, surprised by his friend’s rage. In all the years of their friendship Chance was the lighthearted, fun-loving one. He rarely turned to fury. “Hey, you all right, man?” he asked.

  Chance smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s go announce the wedding is off and turn the reception into a party, amigo,” he said, turning to walk back into the church.

  Olivia gave Alek a confused look as Chance strode past her and up the middle of the aisle.

  “Take your team to the reception site and remove as much wedding stuff as you can and have the wedding cake completely sliced and put on plates,” he said.

  She unclipped a walkie-talkie from the waist of her skirt before she walked away.

  As Chance spoke briefly with the minister at the front of the church, Alek turned and pulled his phone from the inner pocket of his tuxedo as it vibrated. “Google alert,” he said. He had alert sets up for any mention of the Ansah Dalmount Group.

  “‘Billionaire heiress and ADG co-CEO Alessandra Dalmount arrested in drug bust,’” he read. “Wait. What?”

  He read the headline again before opening the article and reading it in its entirety, his eyes widening and his heart pounding furiously. He was lost. I thought Alessandra was still in London.

  In jail?

  A drug bust?

  This has to be a mistake, right?

  What the hell?

  * * *

  The cold felt good.

  Alessandra inhaled deeply of it, letting it fill her lungs and invigorate her. Even one night of captivity had been too much, and freedom was sweet. Not enough to curb the anger that stewed overnight as she sat in a cell but enough where she didn’t feel encaged.

  “Alessandra—”

  Sharply, she put up her hand to silence her cousin as they stood on the sidewalk outside the police station.

  “You have a choice to make, Marisa,” she said, staring down the street at the bustling traffic, unable to even look at her cousin. She did a double take when she thought she spotted Alek’s Bugatti pulling out a parking spot down. She blinked and scrunched her face.

  “About what?” Marisa asked.

  Alessandra looked down at her, still dressed in her coat with her face puffy and reddish from her overindulgence. “What?” she asked, glancing back down the street.

  “You said I have a choice,” Marisa said, using the sides of her hands to wipe her eyes.

  Putting aside what she considered daydreams, Alessandra nodded as Roje pulled up in the Jaguar and climbed out to hand her a faux fur that was still luxuriously warm. “You okay?” he asked.

  “No,” she admitted before turning back to her charge. “Rehab or I’m done with you. I will love you always, but you are not coming back into my life or my home as an addict.”

  “Rehab!” Marisa shrieked, pushing back her wild array of curls that the wind blew in her face.

  Alessandra glanced back at her personal attorney, Ngozi Johns, quietly standing off to the side in a brilliant red pantsuit and matching wool coat. “Ms. Johns’s staff has located a long-term facility for you to get better mentally and physically, Marisa,” she said, pointing to an SUV that double-parked behind the Jaguar. “Rehab with Ms. Johns or back to the estate with me to pack your things and leave.”

  Marisa’s eyes hardened and her mouth became a straight line before she walked down the steps toward the waiting SUV.

  “I will call you when we arrive,” Ngozi said.

  “Thank you very much. I appreciate it—”

  Marisa stopped in the middle of the street, causing those passing by to quickly shift to avoid her. “You can’t just put me out. I have rights. You have to evict me. Right? Doesn’t she have to evict me?” Marisa cried out, her desperation so abundantly clear.

  “She’s right,” Ngozi said, her voice just for Alessandra’s ears.

  Alessandra came down the steps, brushing off Roje’s hand when he reached for her wrist. “Is that how you want to do this? In this moment where you can choose victory or defeat over your own damn life, is that the level you want to sink to? Court? Eviction!” she snapped, her eyes burning with hurt and anger. “Why is it every damn time I try to help you, you make me suffer for it, Marisa? Huh? Why is that? Why?”

  Marisa lowered her head.

  “Do you understand my career and everything I worked hard for may be over? I have an arrest record. My mug shot is all over the news,” Alessandra stressed, pressing her hand to her chest as she eyed her cousin. “But I didn’t think of any of that because I just wanted to help you. And that’s how you want this to go down? Because it can. Because I will. So you let me know how we are doing this, Marisa.”

  “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, a single tear racing down her cheek, before she turned and walked to the SUV and climbed inside without looking back.

  Alessandra’s shoulders dropped as she tucked her hands inside the deep pockets of her coat.

  “The board wants to meet with you,” Ngozi said, coming to stand beside her.

  Alessandra felt like a vise grip closed down on her gut
. She’d assumed they’d at least wait until Monday to call her on the carpet. She thought of Alek, something she rarely allowed herself to do, and she couldn’t help but envision him with a smug expression as she was voted out of the company. Just the way he always wanted.

  “Okay,” Alessandra said, following Roje to the Jag to climb in the back as he held the door open.

  She gave Ngozi a wave before she strode to the SUV and climbed into the rear beside Marisa.

  “ADG, Roje,” she said, crossing her legs in her distressed jeans as she sank down in the seat and closed her eyes.

  As they made the drive to Manhattan, she felt her driver’s eyes on her occasionally but she was thankful he respected her need for silence. She felt so embarrassed by having her life—her privacy—wrecked by the arrest. And now I have to see Alek.

  A dull ache began to radiate across her nape, and by the time they reached the office and she made her way inside via her private entrance, it had not lessened. She entered the bathroom in her office and was thankful to remove every stitch of clothing she was sure still reeked of jail. As she showered and brushed her teeth, tears threatened to fall, but she refused to let them.

  Dressed in a long-sleeved black lace dress with a wide skirt and her hair up in a tousled topknot, she felt more like herself as she paced her office waiting the five minutes before the meeting was to begin. She knew the procedure; the meeting had already begun. Decisions were being made. Votes cast. By the time she arrived her fate would be sealed.

  Alek would have won.

  Little sucker. Little sucker. Little sucker.

  Alessandra covered her face with her hands, hating how foolish she felt. Still.

  I love you, Alessandra. Please believe me.

  She shook his deceiving words from her thoughts and checked her watch as she sat down, then quickly rose to her feet, leaving her iPhone on the sofa. She smoothed her hair up, straightened the skirt of her dress and stiffened her spine as she walked out of her office and made her way to the boardroom. Pretending she wasn’t nervous. Pretending she wasn’t embarrassed. Pretending she wasn’t still heartbroken.