Dirty Player: An International Alphas Romance

by Lula Baxter

  Chapter Fifteen

  Astrid

  “Well, I don’t know when I’ve had such a fine meal, Alexandre. Thank you very much for allowing us to be your guests tonight,” my father says, reaching out to shake his hand.

  “The pleasure was all mine,” Alexandre replies, oh so graciously.

  He reaches out to take my mother’s hand, once again kissing the back of it. “Enchanté.”

  She does that giggling thing again, which is enough to get me to roll my eyes this time. She may be fooled by the man, but a thousand bells and whistles are now going off in my head.

  He turns his attention to me. Even though I ball my hands into fists, he manages to grab the left one, prying my fingers open so he can give me the same treatment.

  “Astrid,” he says, his eyes like daggers as he leans in over my ring. “Thank you for your company today. It has been…pleasurable.”

  My cheeks are inflamed with embarrassment, guilt, and the memory of what that mouth, which is now kissing my fingers, has done to other parts of my body. I can only hope my parents aren’t paying too close attention.

  “The pleasure was all mine,” I say, feeling the heat hit me again as I read a second meaning into that. Alexandre’s grin in response tells me he’s reading from the same page. Damn him. I wrench my hand free of his grasp.

  “I’m feeling rather tired, and I’m sure you are too, Dad, right? It was a long flight.”

  “Well, now that you’ve said it, I suppose I am a bit wiped out,” he turns to Alexandre. “Thank you again for an enjoyable evening and a chance to talk shop with someone who doesn’t roll their eyes at hearing all the nitty-gritty details.” He laughs and then wraps his arm around Mom, who looks like she’s already half-asleep.

  I watch them walk off then turn to Alexandre. Suddenly, I’m at a loss for words. I’ve felt a certain growing animosity toward him tonight, for some reason I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s completely diminished now that it’s just the two of us alone in one another’s company.

  He seems to read it on my face and gives me a soft smile that’s devoid of any of the cynicism or displeasure I witnessed all night. It’s the Alexandre I was with on the boat today who is standing before me now.

  “Well…um…thank you again for dinner, Alexandre. And, of course, the boat ride, and…um….” Now, I’m that flustered idiot I was upon first meeting him.

  He just chuckles, giving me a break. “I’m going to finish out the night in the lounge.”

  I blink my eyes in surprise when he leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “À bientôt, Astrid.”

  He releases my hand and I watch him walk away, still too tongue-tied to respond. Then my intermediate-level French comes back to me.

  He wasn’t saying “goodbye,” he was saying “see you soon.”

  “So do you want to tell me what’s really going on, Astrid?”

  Dad is sharing the room with Mom while he’s in town, giving me my own room for once. She has already fallen asleep on the bed. I’ve finished packing up my things to move to my room, but he’s caught me before I leave. He walks me out of the room, presumably so Mom won’t hear this conversation, just in case she isn’t fully asleep.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

  He laughs softly. “You always were a terrible liar,” he says, shaking his head. Then he sighs. “But I suppose you’re an adult and can make your own adult decisions in life.”

  I smile at him. At least one of my parents gets that. Never mind how reckless I was today.

  Before I can spin around to head to my room and end this mild interrogation, he plants a hand on my shoulder. “I just want you to know that you can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

  The way he’s looking at me has me shifting uncomfortably.

  “Do you really want to marry Bruce?”

  The question is so frank that my eyes flash open wide at him. “Of course!” I spit out, so used to the standard, overly happy response I give when anyone asks about him. “I mean…why wouldn’t I? He’s handsome and comes from a good family and well, the connections and money they are giving you access to—”

  “Mean absolutely nothing, if you aren’t happy with him,” he says firmly, looking me directly in the eye.

  I stare up at him, taken aback by that.

  “Don’t marry him just to help me out, Astrid. Your dad can take care of himself. Hell, worst case scenario, I stay the same privately-owned company I’ve always been. I have options. Marriage is forever…or at least it should be.”

  I can feel the words bubbling up inside of me: No, I don’t want to marry Bruce. I don’t love him. In fact, I hate him.

  Then, I recall the words he spoke to me on that fateful day. It isn’t just the money at stake. It’s my father’s reputation, my family’s reputation.

  Financially, you’ll be nothing. Politically, you’ll be nothing. Academically, you’ll be nothing. Socially, you’ll be nothing.

  Now, I look up into the soft blue eyes of the man that has always been there for me, checking for monsters under the bed when I was too scared to fall asleep, teaching me how to ride a bike, cheering louder than anyone when I walked across the stage at graduation, patient and loving and kind in everything he ever did for me. This is the least I can do for him.

  “Dad, I love Bruce. Don’t read anything into what happened with Alexandre today. In fact, nothing happened,” I lie as strenuously as possible, hoping he believes me. “It was a spur of the moment lapse in judgment, which turned out to be a fun time on a boat…and I guess a very nice meal,” I say, laughing to ease the tension.

  He still has his hand on my shoulder, looking at me in that way that usually manages to get the truth out of me. I hold firm, giving him what I hope is a believable smile.

  “Okay then, sweetheart,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Dad.”

  I can’t sleep.

  I’ve taken another long shower and changed into my nightgown. I’ve tried reading, watching TV, even closing my eyes and willing myself to slumber. It’s all been to no avail. I’m surprised that the amount of alcohol I’ve imbibed tonight doesn’t have me as passed out as Mom.

  I know the reason why I can’t sleep…and he’s sitting in the lounge downstairs right now.

  À bientôt.

  It irks me that he just assumed I’d be seeing him again. He even had the gall to point out exactly where he’d be.

  I shouldn’t go. I’ve been foolish one too many times with him already today. Heaven knows where it will lead if I get dressed, check myself in the mirror to make sure I’m presentable, quietly escape my room and head down to see him again.

  Stupid.

  And I’m stupid enough to do just that.

  I’m dressed in one of my nicer dresses that still just barely meets the dress code. I’ve brushed my hair to some semblance of being tamed and left it down. I actually carry my heels in one hand and my key card in the other as I tiptoe out of my room and, as slowly and silently as possible, shut the door behind me.

  I feel like a naughty teenager sneaking out of my parents’ house as I pad silently down the carpeted hallway to the elevators. The thought sends a delicious rush of pleasure through me.

  What the hell have you done to me, Alexandre?

  I wait by the elevators, my heart pounding, certain that at any moment the door to my parents’ room will swing open and Dad will rush out with one accusatory finger pointed my way. ‘Aha! I knew you were lying!’

  Just as the elevator arrives with a ding. I notice the ring on my finger. As the doors open, I begin using my thumb to fiddle with it as I usually do when I’m nervous.

  “Allô?”

  I look up at the sound of the voice. A couple is standing in the car waiting for me to enter. I give them a quick, tight smile then sprint back to my room. I struggle to hold onto my shoes while getting the key in the slot. Just when I�
��m sure this whole idea is too insane to follow through on, it finally slides in.

  I wrench the ring off and place it on the small bar area near the door. I stare at it for a moment, biting my lip as I consider what this step means.

  “Yes,” I say, nodding into the mirror above the bar, as though trying to convince myself. “This is what I want.”

  I exhale and repeat the process of trying to escape my room without the occupants in the room next door hearing me. This time when the elevator arrives, I have the car to myself. I step in when the doors open and turn around to watch them close. I can see my reflection in the shiny, mirror-like metal.

  What are you doing, Astrid?

  I stare at myself, pondering that question. By the time the doors open, I’m certain of my decision. I want to see Alexandre again. I’m actually aching to see him again. The man has not only gotten under my skin, he has infiltrated every fiber of my being. I can’t go back home without at least seeing him one more time.

  He’s sitting at the same table we had champagne at before. The smile he gives me when I walk up to him is seductive and welcoming.

  “Hello, Astrid.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alexandre

  “Alexandre.”

  She’s dressed less formally now, in a simple dark blue dress and heels, with her hair down. She looks as stunning as ever. She could have shown up in a potato sack and I would have fired anyone on the spot who dared to confront her about her choice of attire.

  She’s also not wearing her engagement ring.

  I motion to the seat next to me. “Sit.”

  She stares at me for a moment then settles cautiously into it. “Did you know I would come?”

  “Yes,” I say without hesitation. Why be subtle now? She’s here, which means she wants the same thing I do. “Would you like a drink?”

  “I probably shouldn’t,” she says eyeing the glass of cognac sitting next to me.

  “Still feeling the remnants of your over-indulgence tonight at dinner?” I say with one eyebrow raised tauntingly.

  A small frown comes to her lips. “You’re the one that ordered the wine.”

  “Because wine should be enjoyed with a fine meal—not slurped down like a Coca-Cola.”

  “I think I will have something after all,” she says tilting her chin up at me defiantly. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  I laugh, then shake my head. “Remy Martin XO? I think not.”

  “Well if you’re going to put the nix on anything—”

  “French 75,” I say, considering her. “It’s fitting. I think you’ll like it.”

  “What’s a French 75?” she asks, suddenly curious.

  “Patience, kitten,” I say, a subtle smile coming to my lips.

  Her face colors slightly, no doubt remembering the last time I called her that. I want to watch her whole body heat up that way, preferably while I’m buried deep inside of her, making her cry out in pleasure.

  A subtle, almost imperceptible motion from me has the waiter at our table. I order the drink and he disappears as suddenly as he appeared to get it.

  “What was the thing about my ring? Were you just making that up for my parents’ sake?”

  “No,” I say giving her a solemn look. My eyes dart down to where the ring has once again disappeared, then come back to hers. “Not many people know the history. It’s a tragic story, but with a strong bond of love tying it together.”

  She waits, giving me a patient look, her eyes encouraging me to go on. The waiter comes back with her drink. She looks at it with brief interest. Before she bothers to pick it up and take a sip, curiosity has her eyes back to me wanting to know more about the story.

  “The father of the individual who started Ardant Jewelers was a jeweler himself in Paris, before World War II. A widower who fell in love with a younger woman.” I lift one eyebrow at her. The comparison isn’t lost on Astrid and she picks up her drink to sip lightly on it, hiding the smile that comes to her face.

  “Well?” I inquire, interrupting my own story.

  Her eyes brighten. “Mmm, it’s delicious.”

  “I thought you might like it.”

  She sets the drink down, eager to get back to the story. “But what happened? Why is it so sad?”

  “It wasn’t at first. He was ready to marry her, giving her a ring exactly like yours.”

  A wrinkle comes to her brow.

  “Then the Germans invaded France. Unfortunately, she was Jewish. They were both betrayed by another woman who wanted him for herself. In the end, they were both shot by the Nazis as traitors.”

  “Oh,” Astrid cries out softly.

  I lean in, continuing the story. “There’s a superstition that lies in that design, which not many know about. The ring is only given when the bond of love is so strong that not even death could break it…or, in the alternative, when the love is tainted by a third party.”

  Her eyes flash open wide staring at me as though I’ve struck a nerve. That reaction answers more than a few questions for me.

  “You’re lying,” she says flatly.

  “The story is true. The superstition you can take or leave,” I say, falling back in my seat. I give her a narrowed gaze. “If I had to guess, I’d say you fall into the latter category.”

  She looks away, but I can see the anger and irritation in her face.

  “Do we still have secrets?” I ask.

  She slides her eyes toward me, then sighs. “Yes, I’m engaged. It’ll be the very definition of a marriage of convenience. He needs…something from me. And I need something from him. It’s as simple as that.”

  I’ve already figured out what she needs from him. The time spent sitting here sipping my cognac helped me complete the puzzle on that one. The Campbells of Boston are well-known influencers. Being tied to their name alone is probably what opened the door to financial opportunities for her father.

  “He has someone else,” I muse. It isn’t a question, but she nods all the same, not looking me in the eye as she sips her drink. “So why doesn’t he marry her?”

  She gives me a wry grin, not answering for a moment. Then, she laughs lightly and sets her drink down. “The Campbells wouldn’t approve.”

  I furrow my brow at the ambiguous answer. “So that’s why you left your ring off today?”

  She picks up the drink again. “Well, it is tainted after all, no?” A sharp laugh escapes her lips as she says it.

  “Perhaps you should take on a lover of your own,” I suggest, sipping my own drink.

  That cuts the laugh short and her eyes go wide.

  “That is why you came down is it not?” I say raising one eyebrow questioningly.

  “Um,” she breathes. “I…I don’t—”

  “Yes, you do,” I say easily. Then I set my glass down and lean in, causing her eyes to widen even more. “I won’t push you Astrid, but you shouldn’t punish yourself for going after what you want, especially considering your circumstances. You don’t owe anything to him, not even marriage.”

  She stares at me, her breath getting heavier as my words break through some wall she’s built up inside of her.

  “I do want it,” she whispers.

  Those words alone cause an immediate stirring in my nether region.

  “We can’t…in my room. My parents….”

  I laugh. “I think I can arrange alternate accommodations here.”

  She exhales a nervous laugh, finishing off her drink. “Do you think I can have another? This is really good and I think I need…”

  “Your wish is my command,” I say, giving her a direct look so she reads that sentence in more than one way.

  She’s breathing heavily again and the color is back in her cheeks, but she doesn’t break the hold my eyes have on hers.

  “Thank you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Astrid

  “Actually, let’s skip the drink,” I say suddenly.

  The French 75 is de
licious. I can tell it has champagne in it, which has brought back that heady buzz in my brain. Even through the haze of its influence, I know I’m making the right decision. Today introduced me to experiences that I never imagined in my wildest dreams. I want more. I want to fall completely into the abyss of pleasure that was only hinted at on that boat. I want Alexandre to take me completely and fully.

  It isn’t as though Bruce would care, at least beyond appearances. His needs are probably being taken care of as I finish off this drink. He would never afford me the same luxury. If anyone ever found out about this, I honestly don’t know what he’d do. That thought makes me even more certain that this is what I want.

  Alexandre considers me for a moment. Then, as though seeing something in my eyes, he simply nods. He’s the first to stand, reaching out his hand to me as he does. I take it without hesitation. Any unease I feel melts away under his firm, reassuring grip. It’s like a lifeline, pulling me away from the mess I’ve left back home.

  Right now I’m headed to the ultimate escape.

  “We haven’t paid,” I say as we walk out.

  “They know me here,” he says, grinning.

  I immediately feel stupid. The owner of the hotel doesn’t get a bill. Then, the realization hits me: Alexandre is one of the owners of this hotel. I watch his broad back work underneath the tuxedo as he leads me away.

  Who is he really?

  More importantly, do I care?

  I’ve trusted him in more ways than one today and I can honestly say, so far it’s been one of the best experiences of my life. Now, I’m about to indulge in the ultimate experience—a life-changing experience.

  Do I want it?

  Fuck yes, I do.

  Were on the penthouse floor of the hotel. Of course, we’re on the penthouse floor. It’s as if the script to me losing my virginity was written like a Disney fairytale, complete with a perfect Prince Charming.