Love is the ultimate power play

Alessandra Dalmount has been groomed since birth to assume the joint reins of her father’s empire. Now that day has arrived, forcing her to not only abandon her own career goals, but work closely with co-CEO and childhood nemesis Alek Ansah. As they battle for control of the billion-dollar conglomerate, Alessandra fights her attraction to the international playboy that could sabotage her professional future.

Although he pursued other dreams, Alek must honor his late father’s request or risk losing his shares of the Ansah Dalmount Group. But the shy girl he knew has matured into a sophisticated businesswoman he can’t resist. And at a private island resort, he and Alessandra end up making love, not war. Then a shocking revelation erodes her trust...and a breaking scandal could leave only one standing. Can they turn their intense rivalry into a blueprint for success that includes a permanent alliance of love?

NIOBIA BRYANT is the award-winning and national bestselling author of more than thirty works of romance and commercial mainstream fiction. Twice she has won the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award for African-American/Multicultural Romance. Her most recent book written under the pseudonym of Meesha Mink was listed as one of Library Journal’s Best Books of 2014 in the African American fiction category. Her books have appeared in Ebony, Essence, the New York Post, The Star-Ledger, The Dallas Morning News and many other national publications. Her bestselling book was adapted to film.

“I am a writer, born and bred. I can’t even fathom what else I would do besides creating stories and telling tales. When it comes to my writing I dabble in many genres, my ideas are unlimited and the ink in my pen is infinite.” —Niobia Bryant

Also By Niobia Bryant

A Billionaire Affair

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

A Billionaire Affair

Niobia Bryant

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08278-5

A BILLIONAIRE AFFAIR

© 2018 Niobia Bryant

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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“Go home, Alek,” she said, quickly moving to the front door to open it wide.

“I will,” he said, coming to stand before her. “But this thing between us will happen one day. I will make love to you, Alessandra, and we will enjoy it together.”

She stepped back and felt for the door, taking a deep swallow as she released a shaky breath.

He stepped close to her. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. It was hard to miss. The hot eyes, bated breath and gaping mouth. “It’s better sooner than later so we can get it out of our systems and focus on work, right? You’re just as curious as I am. Will it be as good as we think?”

Alessandra’s eyes dropped to his mouth and lingered there.

“Is curiosity killing that cat?” he taunted softly, his breath fanning against her mouth from their closeness.

She pouted before she released a little cry of alarm as she turned her head to keep them from kissing.

He turned to stride away.

Alessandra reached out for him. “Yes, it is,” she answered.

Dear Reader,

I’m a romantic at heart, and nothing pleases me more than romance novels set in small towns. While creating my new series, Passion Grove, centered on a very affluent small town built around a heart-shaped lake, I knew I would enjoy writing stories of love and passion with such an ideal setting.

After thirty books in print, I also wanted to try something different with the characters, and what better way to let my imagination fly than making them ultrawealthy? Beautiful billionaires who have it all when it comes to money, but are still unable to find love—the most important thing to cherish.

I hope A Billionaire Affair is as much fun to read as it was for me to write. It’s bursting with chemistry, conflict, passion and, ultimately, a deep, lasting love that will make you root for happily-ever-after.

To find out more, visit me at www.niobiabryant.com, or my Facebook fan page—Niobia Bryant | Meesha Mink.

Written with every bit of my belief in love,

Niobia

As always, for my mama, my guardian angel, Letha “Bird” Bryant.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

“Have a good evening, sir.”

Alek Ansah nodded sharply at the pilot and crew of his private plane just before disembarking. Quickly he jogged down the metal stairs, not even paying attention to the crisp London night air whipping against the hand-tailored tuxedo on his well-built frame. He checked his de Grisogono watch as he strode across the airfield to his waiting black Bentley Mulsanne. By the time he reached it, his longtime driver had exited the vehicle and held the rear door open.

“Julius,” Alek greeted him, his accent a blend of his Ghanaian ancestry and his upbringing in England. He unbuttoned his jacket and slid onto the smooth leather seat.

“Sir.” His driver gave him a polite nod of his head.

As soon as the door closed, Alek relaxed and settled his chin in his hand as he released a heavy breath and looked out the darkly tinted window as the vehicle eased forward. The sights of London were reflected in the depths of his coal-black eyes. The capital of both England and the United Kingdom had served as his home base for the last five years.

That would change tomorrow.

Alek was surprised at the slight tinge of nervousness he felt. Was it leftover anxiety about the fear of flying that he hid so well, or the day of reckoning fast approaching? He sighed, his mood now pensive.

The ride from the airport to his penthouse apartment in the heart of historical and prestigious Westminster took less than fifteen minutes. As the car rolled to a smooth stop outside the building constructed of stone, granite and bronze, Alek looked up at the illuminated floor-to-ceiling windows of his apartment. It was the lone flat on the tenth floor.

He climbed from the vehicle before Julius could even leave his seat. “Good night, Julius,” Alek called over his shoulder, already loosening his bow tie and the top button of his monogrammed shirt as he strolled up the length of the walkway and entered the building.

After a full day of work topped with his evening flight to and from Paris just to attend a charity event at the Pavillon d’Armenonville, his muscles felt weak with fatigue—a rarity for him. He was strong and fit and thrived on challenge. Still, he was human and required even minimal rest.

Striding across the stylishly appointed lobby, the soles of his handmade Italian shoes beat against the marble floors as he made his way to the elevators. He entered his private code for the elevator to go to the penthouse and rode in silence. As he stood there with his legs apart and his hands behind his back, he flexed his shoulders and rolled his head to relieve the slight strain of tension he felt. He paused when he caught sight of his reflection against the bronze of the double doors.

He did a double take and then chuckled a bit. Earlier that night one of the waitresses shared with him that he should audition to be the first black James Bond. He was nearly 100 percent sure she thought he was Idris Elba. He didn’t know whether to be flattered by that or insulted that he was the honoree at the very event where she worked and she had no clue who he was. That was a first in the circles in which he moved.

The doors of the elevators opened directly into his apartment; he removed his white dinner jacket and folded it over the back of one of the four modern charcoal sofas in his expansive living room.

“Your drink, sir.”

Alek turned away from the view of the London cityscape to find his loyal manservant, Huntsman, still very much awake, dressed in customary black on black attire and ready to serve. With a smile, he accepted the snifter of brandy from the small wooden tray held by the bald middle-aged man. The warmed crystal felt good in his hand as he swirled the alcohol and took a small sniff of the aromas released by the heating of the glass before taking a satisfying sip.

Over the rim of the glass, he looked out at the sight of Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament in the distance. At night, he often found himself standing there in front of his windows enjoying the sight.

To think there was a time when none of it mattered to him. Simplicity had been key.

With a smirk, he looked around at his lavish surroundings. Everything had changed, and sometimes he wasn’t sure it was for the better. With a slight clench of his square jaw, Alek focused on his six-foot reflection, letting the cityscape laid out before him blur as he did.

Sometimes he felt he hardly knew the man in the reflection.

“Big day tomorrow, sir.”

With another sip, Alek glanced over his shoulder to find that Huntsman had never moved from his spot, the serving tray still in his hand. “Very,” he agreed, curving his lips into a smile.

Huntsman chuckled.

The two had been officially employer and employee over the last fifteen of Alek’s thirty years of life, but they had a friendship and a mutual respect that extended beyond a work relationship and their twenty-year age difference. Huntsman knew almost everything about Alek’s life and pretended to turn a blind eye to his jet-setting ways filled with a string of beautiful women that gave the international paparazzi plenty on which to report. It was well documented that Alek Ansah worked hard, but he played just as hard.

Still, Huntsman was very aware of Alek’s inner struggles, and he knew Alek’s imminent return to New York was a mixed blessing.

“Your luggage and travel arrangements are prepared. Are you?” Huntsman asked, stepping up to stand beside him.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Alek asked, and took another deep sip.

“No, sir, you do not.”

In the morning, Alek would return to the corporate headquarters of the Ansah Dalmount Group in New York to officially claim his position as the cochairman of the billion-dollar conglomerate. He was fulfilling the wishes of his father, Kwame Ansah, and not his own. “You won, Dad,” he mouthed as he lifted his snifter in a toast and looked up to the heavens with a small sardonic shake of his head, as a wave of grief caused his gut to clench.

Five years ago, the lives of both his father and his father’s business partner, Frances Dalmount, were tragically ended in a crash of ADG’s company jet. He had been deep into his grief and grappling with the lost opportunity to mend his strained relationship with his father when the reading of the will completely turned Alek’s life upside down.

Alek’s grandfather, Ebo Ansah, began a financial services firm in Ghana in the 1950s that grew significantly in the mid-1960s, providing a very respectable living for his wife, Kessie, and their four children. His eldest son, Kwame, grew under the tutelage of his father and was anxious for his opportunity to enter the family business. They expanded the fiscal services offered to their loyal clients and grew their business. Life was good, and with the Ansah men working together doggedly, it became even better. Upon Ebo’s passing in the early 1980s Kwame took over the running of the business, aggressively taking over smaller banks and insurance and investment firms to catapult himself to wealth and prominence. When the opportunity arose in 1987 to join forces with Frances Dalmount, a business competitor from England, he accepted with the intent to use their combined resources to take on other business ventures. The Ansah Dalmount Group was formed, eventually becoming one of the most successful conglomerates in the world with its business umbrella encompassing financial services, oil, hotels/resorts/casinos and telecommunications.

Kwame Ansah relished every moment of their success because he knew his father would be proud. And he wanted nothing more than for his eldest son to join him to advance the company even further. It was their biggest point of contention.

Alek clenched his jaw in regret.

After graduating with a Master of Business Administration degree from Columbia University, Alek did not enter the family business as planned and instead fostered his love of the outdoors and sailing by working as a deckhand on a luxury mega yacht, with plans to rise up the ranks to captain his own vessel. What his father saw as defiance was just him fighting for his independence to be his own man. It was the first time he ever defied him.

Back then he felt so much pride in striking out on his own.

Back then he was pleased that his job kept him away from home so that he could avoid the look of disappointment and anger in his father’s eyes.

Back then he thought he had more time to make everything right.

And now?

Five years had passed and the guilt was still palpable.

“I knew your father well, Alek,” Huntsman said, reaching up with his free hand to firmly pat his shoulder. “You have already made him proud.”

Alek’s smile was slight but genuine. “He threw me in the deep end and I had no choice but to sink or swim,” he said with a chuckle.

Kwame Ansah had been determined to have his way, even in death.

Alek had to make the difficult choice of accepting the position as cochief executive officer of ADG or having all his father’s shares in the conglomerate sold, with the proceeds donated to various charities. That would leave not only Alek but the rest of his family without an inheritance. His father had to have known he would never lose the family’s legacy and financial security. Stubborn old man.

Kwame Ansah was relentless, and in the end, he had been right. Per his father’s request he had spent the last five years training inside the company in preparation to run it. He spent considerable time within every branch of the ADG learning about it from the ground floor up. He took to it all like a fish to water. He soared, driven by a desire to make his father proud, but also pure determination to thrive and win—traits he inherited from his sire.

For so long, his stubbornness to pave his own path in life had blinded him to the innate skill and tenacity his father had seen in him all the while.

Now he was prepared to take the Ansah Dalmount Group even further.

Well, along with Alessandra, he conceded, sliding one hand into the pocket of his tailored slacks and taking another sip as he shook his head.

The news that his father’s business partner had left his shares of their billion-dollar conglomerate to his daughter had yet to sit well with him. Their power in the company was equal. Each inherited 49 percent of the shares, with the board of directors left with 2 percent of the shares to decide on a stalemate between them.

Alek felt that was inevitable.

They were completely driven.

With their fathers as both business associates and close friends, Alek had known Alessandra since childhood. Ever since they were small, Alek had found Alessandra’s quiet nature off-putting. She was never friendly and seemed afraid of her own shadow. As teenagers, they were never in the same circle of friends or schools but saw each other at social functions. She was decidedly awkward and found with her head in a book more times than not. He had little patience for the mousy little introvert and was glad their time in each other’s presence became nonexistent with age.

He frowned at the memory of her during their first meeting with the board of directors of ADG. Slender and petite with a head full of massive curls that dwarfed her face. Her petite figure swamped in the shirt and pants she wore. Oversize, ill-adjusted spectacles that she continuously pushed up on her nose. Nervously biting at her bottom lip. Looking confused, lost and unaware that she was completely out of her element.

He expressed his discontent with her appointment as co-CEO, so much so that the board readily agreed to his request to do his training in their London offices while Alessandra remained in New York. That was the last time he saw Miss Alessandra Dalmount.

And all of that would change tomorrow.

Everything would change tomorrow.

Alek released a heavy breath.

“It is not your last walk to the electric chair, sir,” Huntsman said, taking the now-empty snifter from him to cross the polished floor to refill it.

Alek reached up to run his long fingers across his close-shaven head. It wasn’t the move that Huntsman spoke of and they both knew it. It was not a “what” but a “whom.”

Alessandra Dalmount.

He accepted the snifter Huntsman pressed into his hand. “What in the world was Frances thinking?” he muttered darkly, his brow furrowing as he gripped the nightcap so hard that a lesser material would have crushed in his grasp.

“Ah, the eternal question,” Huntsman said softly, his tone amused.

“I will not sit back and let her destroy everything our fathers worked so hard to build,” Alek said sharply, turning in his spot to face the older man.

Huntsman smoothed his hands over his vest before clasping his hands together behind his back and rapping his heels together. “And yet the firm still stands strong after five years of her working there,” he said smoothly, his face almost unreadable.

“But she gains forty-nine percent control tomorrow—”

“As do you, sir,” Huntsman reminded him.

“Yes, but I know what the hell I’m doing!” Alek snapped.

Ding-dong.

“Plans, sir?” Huntsman asked drily.

“Damn,” Alek swore, dropping his head so low that his chin almost touched his chest.

He’d forgotten the beautiful woman he’d met after a business lunch out on the cigar terrace of the Boisdale of Belgravia earlier that day. It had been hard not to notice one of the few women enjoying the decidedly masculine Scottish decor, particularly her handling of the long and thick cigar in her mouth as she boldly met his stare from across the terrace. She’d made an invite back to his apartment for a nightcap completely undeniable.

He’d since forgotten all about her.

Huntsman waited patiently as Alek looked down into his drink and then toward the door before looking back at his drink again. Whatever desire he had to bed the woman had waned. He couldn’t remember her name and could only vaguely recall her beauty. “Have my driver take her home and offer her my apologies,” Alek said before tipping his head back to finish his drink.

Huntsman immediately turned to do as he was bid.

Alek wasn’t proud of treating the woman like a disposable convenience. It wasn’t usually his character, but he would not be good company for her or anyone else that night. His thoughts were centered on one thing and one thing alone: how to convince Alessandra Dalmount to willingly step down from her position at ADG.

For him, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Alessandra Dalmount leaned back in her leather executive chair and crossed her legs in the pin-striped pencil skirt she wore as she coolly eyed the junior executives sitting in the leather club chairs across from her at the conference room table. The two young men glanced at each other and shifted nervously in their seats as her silence filled the air.

As she continued to study them, Alessandra took the moment to ponder how hard she had to fight to prove her worth in the last five years. She was proud to finally be so respected within the company that her silence after the presentation of a business proposal elicited subtle anxiety. In the early days of stepping into the role her father had bequeathed her, Alessandra had been nervous, fidgety and apologetic. She had felt so unsure in her role. So unworthy. So judged.

Well, no more.

“As you all know, the expansion of ADG into the shipping industry has been of the utmost importance to me for the last year,” she began. “I expect some resistance.”

From Alek Ansah.

She forced a stiff smile and nearly snapped the pen she held in half from her tightened grasp as she shifted in her seat. She forced herself to do a mental five count as her employees watched her.

Get it together, Alessandra.

“I expect my team to gather the information and analytics I need on the list of firms I am suggesting the company acquire. I will make some notations and corrections to the report and get them back to you this evening,” she said, forcing her shoulders to relax as she stood up on her sling-back Fendi heels and gave each man a hard stare. “I expect the amended reports back to me before the end of the week, sans the little loopholes I’ve already discovered after a two-minute cursory perusal.”

“But, Ms. Dalmount...” one of them said.

“That is all,” Alessandra said firmly, dismissing them as she turned to look out the window at the Empire State Building among the sprawling landscape of Midtown Manhattan.

As her staff members quietly took their leave, her focus on the neighboring high-rise buildings blurred. She pursed her lips and released a breath meant to calm her nerves. It didn’t work.

Today she would assume her share of the responsibility in running one of the largest conglomerates in the country. She had the last five years to prepare, but in this moment, she felt as if that time had flown by so quickly.

And in truth she felt completely overwhelmed.

Alessandra unclasped the locket she wore on a long chain around her neck and stroked her thumb against the wedding photo of her parents nestled there. They both were lost to her. Her mother, Olivia, died when Alessandra was young, and her father had loved his wife so deeply that he never remarried. She could only find solace that her parents had reunited in heaven.

I miss you, Daddy.

As always, the thought of her father dying in such a tragic way weakened her knees. She closed her eyes as a wave of sadness and grief hit her, causing her to wince. Will the pain ever dull?

Not enough time had passed to properly grieve the death of a parent. In the space of a week, she lost her father, attended the funeral and then learned during his will reading that it was his wish for her to take over his position as a chief executive officer of the Ansah Dalmount Group. She’d wanted nothing more than to return to their family estate and bury her head under the dozen pillows on her bed so that she could sleep and pretend the week had never happened.

But that wasn’t to be.

Alessandra had been completely moved and surprised by her father’s faith in her, but her fear of it all had come with a quickness. Although she had previously graduated with a bachelor’s in English, Alessandra’s life had been all about her volunteer work for various charities. With one stroke of his pen, Frances Dalmount had solidified his daughter as one of the most wealthy and powerful women in the world. And now the day had arrived for her to take the reins.

Father, what have you gotten me into?

Alessandra closed the locket but kept it pressed in her hand.

Back then the last thing she wanted was the responsibility of taking over the family empire. She had hardly ever bothered herself with her father’s business affairs. She was his only child, and although he loved and spoiled her immensely, she had always known he would have preferred a son to raise in the ways of business. She had never held ill will about that.

And she never assumed he would expect so much of her.

Alessandra squeezed the bridge of her nose as she turned and walked along the length of the table to leave the modern and stylish conference room. Closing the glass door behind herself, she began walked down the hall to the right to her corner office, but stopped midway with a soft curving of her crimson-painted lips. Instead she turned and walked down the opposite end of the hall to the elevator. As the wood-paneled doors opened, she stepped on and pressed the button to go to the top floor of the twenty-five-story building.

She couldn’t lie; there was excitement blended with her fear.

The last five years she worked hard to form herself into a successful businesswoman. Between the fifty-to sixty-hour weeks she put in working in various departments to garner a firsthand knowledge of the business, to returning to college to earn her Master of Business Administration from Columbia University, to reshaping her image and bolstering her confidence, Alessandra went above and beyond to prove herself to the naysayers. It was clear that many people questioned her father’s decision to have her inherit his shares of ADG—she even questioned it herself.

Pain over her father’s death, anger about being openly scorned because she was a woman and a desire to win motivated Alessandra.

And she had thrived. She surprised the board members and her peers. She took pride in that. Alessandra had given up so much to live up to what her father expected of her. So very much.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing the wide reception area. To her left was a sandalwood station beneath the backlit brass letters ADG on the wall, and to the right sat a modern sofa with sleek lines. Her eyes quickly landed directly across from her on the ornate double doors of the palatial boardroom. She smoothed her hands down her hips and stiffened her spine as she walked off the elevator.

ADG owned the entire commercial building, leasing out all but the top four floors with the penthouse reserved just for the expansive offices of the two CEOs.

That morning when she arrived, she learned one of those offices was now hers.

The receptionist, a tall redhead with glasses, rose to her feet. “Good morning, Ms. Dalmount,” she said with a warm smile.

Alessandra fought her natural inclination to return the smile and instead gave her a polite nod as she passed her to enter the wide hall. She paused and turned to look back at the hall to the right of the elevator, which led to the other office now belonging to Alek Ansah.

Her heart pounded and she nervously bit the gloss from her lips. Is he in there?

It had been five years since she’d seen him in person, and the last time would be hard to ever forget. Her father’s attorney had announced, “Alessandra Dalmount and Alek Ansah, as the newly appointed majority owners of ADG, you will both be primed within the company to take over the running of the conglomerate—together.”

Behind her spectacles she had looked to Alek. He had barely spared her a glance when he first entered the office and took the seat across from her, but his dark eyes were locked and loaded on her. His square and handsome chiseled features had been unreadable, but his eyes told the story: he was not happy with having her as his equal.

Their fathers had been competitors before becoming business partners and eventually best friends. Alessandra had known Alek since they were children, although they encountered each other more as teenagers. As they moved into adulthood, she watched the surly teen grow into an arrogant and cocky man. His demeanor toward her had always been decidedly brooding, but bordered on hostile when he discovered they would run ADG together.

It’s been five years; does he feel the same?

She fought the urge to ask Emily if he was in fact in his office. The board meeting was tomorrow morning and she would undoubtedly see him then. Alessandra flipped her straight hair over her shoulder as she arched a brow and released a heavy breath. If he was still unwilling to accept her role in the company, then, like their offices, they would remain at opposite ends. The choice is his to make.

Sighing, she continued down the hall, her heels echoing against the marble floor. The glass door leading into the outer office automatically opened upon her approach. Unger Rawlings, her executive assistant, instantly rose to his feet and grabbed his iPad, but she held up her hand and softly shook her head to prevent him from following her through the open double doors into her office. “I’m fine for now, Unger,” she assured him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He had been her right-hand man and dedicated employee since her first day at ADG. The tall and slender young man, who was just a little younger than her thirty years, knew all too well of her priorities. She could think of no one else to serve as her assistant, even if there had been a push for someone with more experience and qualifications. His professionalism and loyalty were significant to her.

“Actually, you can go to lunch, Unger,” she said.

“Would you like anything?” he asked.

She shook her head.

It was solace that she sought.

Alessandra paused in the doorway and took in the nearly 360-degree view of Manhattan through the three glass curtain walls of her office. The open floor plan was breathtakingly beautiful and sleek with over three thousand square feet, twenty-foot ceilings with skylights, private spa bath, small kitchen, exercise room, lounge area with a grand fireplace, library and an outdoor terrace. All was stylishly designed in luxury, but it wasn’t the grandeur of the space that caused her to pause.

Although the office had been updated and remodeled in the last five years, to her it was still her father’s space and he was gone.

“Deep thoughts?”

Alessandra froze. She didn’t need to see the face that matched the seductive, masculine voice. It had been years, but she knew it well. Hating the feeling of nervous anxiety that plagued her as his return became imminent, she stiffened her spine and prayed her makeup and hair were still flawless. Keep it cool.

“Welcome back, Alek,” she said coolly, slowly walking the length of the polished hardwood floors to reach her large desk. She turned to face him, leaning back against the edge of her desk and crossing her ankles.

There he stood in the open doorway in a designer suit and handmade shoes, looking every bit the man of power. Polished. Stylish. Tall, truly dark and unapologetically handsome. Black hair cut low, dark eyes, bronzed brown complexion. His groomed beard emphasized his high cheekbones and square jawline. He stood right at six feet tall with a strong, athletic build that his tailored suit couldn’t hide.

Alessandra’s eyes missed nothing, not even the small scar on his cheek that added a dangerous edge to his style. She had always considered him a fine-looking man, but the years made him more rugged...more handsome.

Sexy. Too damn sexy.

Alessandra had heard of and seen Alek’s personal life in the press, but the photos of him and his rotation of beautiful dates had not prepared her for all of him in person. Her facade was cool as she hid her pounding heart and racing pulse. Alek Ansah was pure, raw sex appeal.

Well, I’ll be damned.

“Alessandra,” he said, his voice deep and rich with that British accent.

Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom.

Alessandra’s heart betrayed her. She ignored the almost deafening pounding as she eyed him strolling into her office. He came over to stand at her window, his coal-black eyes locked on some spot in the distance. He had the kind of stride that hinted at his sexual prowess.

She looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes caressed his profile. Sexy arrogant bully.

Alek suddenly turned his head to eye her, as well.

Alessandra kept her face nonchalant. “Can I help you with something, Alek?” she asked, rising to come around her desk and pull back her chair to claim her seat behind it. Her hand was as unsteady as her pulse as she picked up her favorite Aurora fountain pen.

“There are whispers in the air that you are proposing working on a deal to shift the firm into shipping,” he said, moving over to stand in front of her desk.

Alessandra glanced up at him, purposely dismissing him with her eyes as she pretended to focus on the files and forms before her. “Whispers, Alek?” she said mockingly. “I would think a man like you was above listening to...whispers.”

“A man like me, Alessandra?”

She allowed herself a moment to close her eyes at how his tongue seemed to caress her name. Dropping her pen, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at him. “Your first day back and we’re picking—no, no, no—you’re picking up right where you left off,” she said with a disapproving twist of her lips.

“My feelings haven’t changed since my last day here,” he assured her, his eyes locked on her.

“Your feelings about me, I assume?” Alessandra rose to her feet, hating the feeling of him looking down on her.

“Exactly.”

She felt affronted. “And your issue with me is?” she asked, deciding to be just as bold as him.

“Your refusal to step down from a position not suited for you,” he instantly shot back with ease as if the words had been sitting perched on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s too bad you feel that way, Alek,” she said, her voice firm. “Because you’re mistaken.”

His eyes took her in. Her hair. Her face. The fit of the embroidered satin shirt she wore with a formfitting pencil skirt. A warm appreciation filled the dark depths.

In the years since she blossomed into a swan, she had learned to pick up on the unspoken cues of a man. She felt desired at his perusal, but his demeanor toward her was weakening her desire of him.

Alek reached across the desk dividing them to stroke her hair. “I like your new look. Playing dress-up?” he asked, slightly mocking.

She held his stare as she coolly raised her hand to brush away his touch. “Change is good, Alek. Particularly change of times. Why don’t you and your outdated chauvinistic thinking join the rest of us in the current year.”

“This should be fun,” Alek said, nodding his head and smiling.

“Games are not a part of my day, Alek,” she snapped. “I will not be undermined in this business by you and your return. I have earned my MBA from your alma mater. I have worked my way up inside this business. I have implemented deals that have generated ADG a steady influx of money. I have proved my worth. And, most importantly, Alek, I own the same number of shares as you. We are equals. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He wiped his mouth as he eyed her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “We’ll see,” he said simply before turning to walk out of her office.

Even as his arrogance burned her gut, her eyes took in his smooth stride until he disappeared from her line of vision. Forcing herself to relax, she dropped down into her seat and swiveled to look out the window at the Manhattan views as she attempted to release her anger and her desire.

Chapter 2

What a difference five years makes.

Alek picked up his crystal glass of water and closely watched Alessandra over the rim as she spoke to the board members from her seat at the opposite end of the conference table. Where once she had been an ineffectual woman who seemed afraid of her own shadow, her slender face buried beneath a ton of curls and so thin that the wind could shift her like a leaf, she had transformed herself both physically and in temperament. The dull caterpillar had become a jewel-toned butterfly.

Her dark tresses were bone straight and expertly styled to complement her heart-shaped face and caramel-brown complexion. Makeup highlighted her almond-shaped eyes of brandy, blush contoured her high cheekbones, and gloss made her full lips poutier and succulent. Her height was average but the curves of her toned shape were not. She wore a dark gray chiffon blouse with sheer sleeves and a plunging neckline that was just deep enough to allude to more without revealing it. She paired it with wide-leg pants that fit close against her hips before falling straight to the floor and flaring. Her outfit was professional with a sexy edge.

His eyes dipped down to her mouth as she spoke. He liked the way the tip of her tongue caressed the small dip in the center of her bottom lip. Her oxblood lipstick gave her a dramatic flair that was hard to ignore.

Alek took a deep sip of water as he forced himself to look away from her. To not be drawn into her, into everything she had become: a mix of cool confidence and simmering sex appeal. He definitely enjoyed the look of her more than what she was saying.

“Alek... Alek...your thoughts?”

He blinked away a vision of undoing every button of Alessandra’s shirt to bury his head against her breasts as he pressed her body down onto the conference table. His eyes shifted to Aldrich Brent, the president of the corporation and executive board member. “I’m not impressed,” he said dismissively, rising to his feet. He smoothed his double-knotted silk tie before buttoning the jacket of his custom Tom Ford pin-striped suit. “It’s clear that Alessandra is naive and amateurish in business. I am disappointed she felt competent in presenting this venture to the board.”

Alessandra mumbled under her breath.

He offered her a brief glance as he reached for his briefcase and pulled a stack of twelve black folders from it. “I would like to offer an alternative that is viable,” he stressed, walking around the table to place a report before each of the ten board members flanking the table and then Alessandra sitting at the end opposite him.

She took it from him with a hard stare.

He came to stand next to his seat at the end of the table. “Anyone with an iota of business acumen could ascertain—”

“Enough of the insults, Alek,” Alessandra requested calmly.

He feigned confusion. “Insults?” he asked.

“Yes, less of them and more of your proposal is all that I’m asking,” she said.

Only the fire in her eyes revealed her rising ire at him.

“Do you need a moment?” he asked, his tone mocking as he egged her on.

Her mouth tightened into a thin line and her jaw was clenched so tightly that he was sure she could bite a nail in half with ease.

Alek cleared his throat. “The interest of ADG would be better served with a move into commercial aviation,” he said.

“Commercial aviation,” Alessandra snapped, tossing the folder on the table where it spun like a top until it hit against a board member’s glass of water.

“Yes,” he answered, his gaze leveling on her. Her annoyance with him caused her eyes to shine brightly. He forced himself to look away from her as he felt his usual cool composure wane. When did she become so beautiful?

“And we’re supposed to believe this is not just a last-minute stunt to gun for my venture idea?” she asked coldly.

“Yes.”

Alessandra swore, and then winced in regret. Such language wasn’t appropriate, no matter the impetus.

The chaotic energy around them seemed to whip loudly in the air with the force of lightning.

“Really?” Alek asked, his tone scolding.

“My apologies, but as you all can see nothing has changed between Mr. Ansah and me since our last meeting in this boardroom five years ago,” she explained, her tone calm and composed.

The board members and the secretary taking the notes stirred in their seats as Alessandra and Alek cast each other cold glares.

“Very unprofessional, Alessandra,” Alek said with a smugness at her losing her equanimity. He wasn’t finished. “The boardroom is no place for histrionics.”

She jumped to her feet and stalked down the length of the table with the board members’ heads all turning to follow her. “Histrionics?” she spat, as she pointed her finger into his chest.

“This board does not have time for your trivial pursuits, Alessandra,” he countered, looking down to take in her brown eyes lit with the fire of her anger.

“Nor your inept attempts at trying to capture the queen in a chess game you’re not fully equipped to play,” she said coldly.

Alek reached up and lightly captured the finger she pressed into his chest into his hand. “When it comes to business, you’re no queen, my dear,” he said, his voice low in the small space between them as he instinctively stroked her soft palm with his thumb.

His eyes squinted in surprise when he thought he felt her shiver.

She snatched away from his grip and stepped back from him. “Then why are you so intimidated by me?”

Alek threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly. “Me? You? Intimidated?” he said in between chuckles.

“Enough!” Aldrich said, jumping to his feet.

Alek and Alessandra looked to the older man, his thin lips still quivering in frustration and his face now reddish with annoyance.

“Do you think your fathers would be proud of your behavior?” he asked, his English accent clipped.

“Yes,” Alessandra answered unequivocally. “Yes, I do.”

Alek looked disbelieving.

“My father wanted me in this position. He believed I could handle this position. And I have proven—even at the detriment of my own personal happiness—that I can thrive in this position,” she said, stalking back to her seat. “And so, if it means standing up for myself to this archaic-minded jackass and his chauvinistic mind-set then, yes, I believe my father is in heaven not only standing up and applauding, but wishing he could interject and give some more of the same.”

Alek’s eyes darted to the up-and-down motion of her breasts as she deeply breathed through her anger at him. His desire stirred. This woman who defied him with such fire and authority was not the mousy little Alessandra of the past. This was a different woman. And he wanted her with an intensity that surprised him. He bit back a smile as he calmly unbuttoned his blazer and reclaimed his seat.

Aldrich gave them both stern looks as he took his seat. He had been with the conglomerate since the early days and both thought of him as a family friend. It was respect for him, his position with the company and his friendship with their fathers that stopped the sparks flying between them.

“Do you both have companies in mind set up for an acquisition to become a subsidiary of ADG?” another of the board members asked.

“Yes. My team and I have been narrowing the field for the past couple of months in preparation for this being my first major act as co-CEO. As shown in the reports I gave you all, we have a strong contender,” Alessandra said.

“Alek?”

“Yes.”

“Liar,” she mouthed at him.

That tongue on the dip of her bottom lip thing is really hot.

“I believe it would only be viable to explore one of these suggestions at this time,” Aldrich said, looking from Alessandra to Alek. “The majority vote of the members of this board would constitute the breaking of a...tie.”

Alek’s and Alessandra’s eyes locked across the distance.

He blinked and looked away from her. A craving to kiss her wouldn’t release him.

Aldrich cleared his throat. “I suggest you both present your full proposals at next month’s meeting and we will hold a vote to settle the matter once and for all.”

His fellow board members gave approving nods.

“Fine,” Alessandra said, picking up her pen to rotate it between her slender fingers.

Alek remained silent. He was stunned the board was even open to her proposal. And in truth, during her presentation they had been attentive. Respectful, even. It’s time to get more acquainted with Miss Dalmount.

Over the rim of round, bright red spectacles, the board’s secretary, Iris Dennis, eyed the board members from her seat next to Aldrich. “Shall we move on? The meeting does coincide with the thirtieth Jubilee celebration next month to be held at the Lake House. The meeting will be that Thursday and we have confirmed use of a conference room on-site. I would like to quickly review the final preparations for the events that weekend.”

Alek tilted his head in acquiescence to Iris as he continued to watch Alessandra closely and find that he liked the look of her. She was stunning. Sophisticated and polished. Poised. She had this subtle sexy that was understated and made a man want to see more. He wanted more.

* * *

“I would like to make a formal offer to buy you out, Alessandra.”

Long after the board meeting had ended and the members had left the conference room, Alek and Alessandra remained in their seats at opposing ends of the table. Moments ticked by and silence reigned.

Alessandra took him in. His low-cut hair, his handsome face, and the broadness of his shoulders in his tailored suit that he wore with such ease that she was sure he owned a hundred or more of them. Physically, everything about him intrigued her. Traitor.

“It’s time you realize that there is a woman—a qualified woman—sitting at the table in the boys’ club, Alek,” she finally said, tapping the tip of her nail against the top of the polished wood conference table. “No more running to London to hide from the truth.”

Tap-tap-tap.

“And do you like being in the company of men, Alessandra, pretending to be one of the boys?” he asked.

Alessandra arched a brow. “Are you questioning my femininity, Alek?” she asked, her voice soft but with an underlying steely edge.

He shook his head and turned his lips downward. “No, of course not,” he said, rapping his strong knuckles against the table. “Femininity has nothing to do with sexuality.”

Alessandra sighed and leaned back in her chair as she tilted her head to the side to look at him. “Perhaps having women with more looks than intellect fawning over you has distorted your idea of women and what we want, Alek. But please let’s be clear that, although I completely understand why a woman would want to be rid of men in every way, including sexually, I am not a lesbian.”

“You’re not?” he asked in feigned surprise.

She rolled her eyes. “Surprise, surprise, Mr. I Can’t Keep My Personal Life Out of the Tabloids. Not every straight woman flings herself at your feet. Some of us have more discretion—and taste.”

Alek leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “Perhaps if you stopped playing businesswoman and focused on finding a life of your own, you wouldn’t have time to watch mine.”

Alessandra fought hard to keep her composure. Gone was her nervousness, replaced by the fire and indignation his attitude evoked. She enjoyed their banter. She even felt rallied by his challenge. “And perhaps your life entails such a long string of women because you’re incapable of satisfying one well enough to stay around,” she said, and then offered him a tip of her head. So there.

Alessandra rose and gathered her files and folders before turning to walk to the door without another look at him.

“Perhaps if you were my type I would show you how well equipped I am at satisfying a woman.”

She froze just as her hand closed around the cool brass of the doorknob. She released a short breath as if a pressure valve had been briefly turned. Allowing herself a five count, she turned and walked the length of the spacious conference room to stand before him. She reached down to grip the back of his chair, bringing their faces just inches apart. His face within a lick of her oxblood-tinted lips, she said, “Physically I am your type, Alek. I am very much your type...and you know it. Humph, it’s only my brain and my backbone that you think are a turnoff.”

His face was a mask of boredom, but his eyes dipped down to her mouth, and Alessandra saw it. Her breath caught and she rose, backing away from him at the truth of her words in his eyes. She knew desire when she saw it. She turned and quick-walked to the door, trying to hide how much he flustered her.

“Qui s’enfuit maintenant?” he asked smoothly in French.

He must have known she spoke it fluently. “Who’s running away now?” he’d asked.

Me. I’m running. Running fast and hard and not stopping one damn bit.

Alessandra didn’t stop her hurried steps until she had left the room and pulled the door closed behind her. With her heart beating rapidly, she licked the dryness from her mouth and allowed herself a moment to press her back to the door as she fought hard to reclaim the coolness she had become known for in the last five years.

Making a pained face, she raised her free hand to lightly knock her wrist against her forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she admonished herself in a whisper.

The man was a chauvinist who made it clear he wanted her out of the company in which they equally owned the majority of shares. He had no respect for her. No desire to work with her or even be around her.

The doorknob turned against her buttocks a moment before it was opened from behind her. Alessandra’s face filled with alarm as she felt her body free-fall backward.

She felt Alek’s large hands wrap around her upper arms. The thin material of her shirt did nothing to protect her from the warmth of his touch as he kept her from hitting the floor. Her head landed on one of his shoulders and her back pressed lightly against his chest.

Alessandra felt nothing but strength.

Quickly she turned, accidentally pressing her body back against the open door. “Th-thank—thank you,” she stuttered, her nerves completely undone by him.

He stepped up close to her.

Alessandra tried to back away more but there was nothing but the unrelenting pressure of the door against her back.

“You’re welcome, Alessandra,” he said softly, before reaching up to lightly stroke her cheek and then her chin before he walked away from her.

She closed her eyes and released a long shaky breath, left with nothing but the warm scent of his cologne and the lingering aftereffects of his touch.

* * *

I wanted to kiss her.

Alek looked back over his shoulder as he walked down the length of the hall leading to his office. He stopped and turned as Alessandra closed the door to the conference room, pressed her files to her chest and then walked across the reception area. His eyes shifted down to the gentle sway of her hips and buttocks in her pants.

Alek considered himself a connoisseur of woman, and Alessandra Dalmount was top-shelf.

Very nice, he thought, not turning away to continue down the hall until she was out of his line of vision.

He walked through the open glass double doors into his outer office.

“Hello, Ms. Kingsley,” he said to the woman whose very appearance was the essence of propriety and no-nonsense.

He wanted it that way. He’d experienced the debacle of a young, sexy secretary with her eye on the wealthy executive. He didn’t need the temptation.

Ms. Kingsley gave him a smile that didn’t reach her cobalt blue eyes. “I entered all your messages on the online log,” she said.

Alek patted the inner pocket over his heart where his iPhone sat. “I got the notifications. Thank you,” he said, moving past her desk to open one of the double doors leading into his office.

“Please get Naim Ansah on the line.”

“Of course, sir.”

With an approving nod, he closed the door and tossed his briefcase on the leather sofa of his reception area before he unbuttoned his silk-lined blazer to remove it and place it on the hanger of the wooden valet standing just outside his private bathroom. Taking his seat behind his massive desk, he signed on to his iPad to check the log of his incoming messages. A few business calls, and at least one message each from his mother, LuLu, his sister, Samira, and his brother, Naim.

He smiled. His return to New York meant more time spent with the family he had left behind five years ago. They visited him often in London, but he was pleased to be back among them regularly. He was sure his mother was already preparing his favorite Ghanaian dish of yam fufu and nkatenkwan. He couldn’t wait to pull off a piece of the fufu ball and dip into the stew of chicken cooked in a rich peanut butter sauce and tomatoes with spices.

His stomach grumbled, but he focused on work instead. It was time to get serious about his plan to shift ADG into commercial aviation, and his younger brother was just the help he needed. Naim was younger than him by five years, but he was ambitiously climbing through the ranks of the company through sheer hard work. Nepotism had gotten him in the door but Naim was out to prove that he deserved his seat at the table. In the three years since he had begun at ADG, he had moved up the ranks from a management trainee to a lead position in the marketing division.

Bzzz.

“Yes?” he said, continuing to scan the message log.

“Mr. Ansah is in a meeting. Would you like me to continue holding?” Ms. Kingsley asked via the intercom.

Alek held his finger above the tablet at the sight of his ex-wife’s name. Kenzay called? His brows dipped as he frowned deeply.

“Sir?” Ms. Kingsley gently nudged.

“No. I’ll see him later,” he said before turning off the intercom.

He leaned back in his chair and swiveled to look out the twenty-foot windows. The warmth of the sunlight framed him as he looked off in the distance at the varying shapes, colors and designs of the neighboring high-rise buildings. Is Kenzay in New York?

Usually they reached out to each other only during those rare occasions they were in the same city.

He’d met the beautiful socialite on the elevator of the Burj Al Arab in Dubai. He’d been staying at the hotel while in the country checking on one of ADG’s numerous oil refineries; she was on a massive shopping spree sponsored by her father, a real estate developer of luxury hotels and mansions. Within hours they were making love against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his presidential suite with the sapphire ocean as their backdrop. Six months later they were married in a five-million-dollar destination wedding in the Maldives. The honeymoon period came and went quickly. Although their nights were filled with hot sex, their days were nothing but bitter arguments and long stretches of cold silence. They agreed neither wanted to be married and they never truly loved each other. By their second wedding anniversary their divorce was finalized.

Over the last three years, they’d occasionally given in to the attraction that still simmered between them. Neither wanted to reunite permanently and both frequently dated other people. Kenzay’s dating life was just as adventurous and well chronicled by the press as his own as she traveled the world on her father’s dime and the generous divorce settlement he paid to her based on their prenuptial agreement.

If she was calling she was somewhere nearby. Maybe an afternoon romp would relax me...

He picked up the phone to dial her cell phone number but changed his mind with a shake of his head and a downturn of his lips. He didn’t have time for the distraction of his ex-wife. He had to stay focused on another woman in his life.

Alek swiveled away from the window. His dark eyes landed on his briefcase on the leather sofa. The file containing Alessandra’s proposal was in it. She surprised him with more than just her change in looks and demeanor. She was further ahead on her proposal than he thought.

He swore, leaning back in his leather executive chair and tenting his fingers beneath his strong chin.

Their stalemate in that boardroom was one of the prime reasons he didn’t want to share ownership with Alessandra. He wasn’t quite sure how their fathers had accomplished it for thirty years. Because they had been equals. They’d respected each other.

It was going to take more than an MBA and a makeover for it to sit well that he was forced to share the company and the decision-making with Alessandra Dalmount. For years, she’d shown not one modicum of business savvy and suddenly she was a savant? He refused to swallow that.

Alek jumped up from his chair, causing to it to roll back and softly hit against the glass as he made his way across the expansive office. He snatched up his briefcase and pulled out his copy of her proposal. Why can’t she just go away quietly?

His hand crumpled the corner inside his fist before he flung it down onto the couch.

And why can’t I stop wondering how her mouth would taste?

“Damn,” he swore.

* * *

“Physically I am your type, Alek. I am very much your type...and you know it. Humph, it’s only my brain and my backbone that you think are a turnoff.”

She was almost right on that point.

He did want her...but he wanted her out of his business affairs more.

They were a month from celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of the conglomerate his father and Alessandra’s father had formed. Thirty years rich with a history that had to be protected and preserved. He respected the brilliance of Frances Dalmount, but his choice to make his daughter his heir had been made with his heart and not the cunning intellect he was well respected for.

Alek was intent on correcting the error.

He would rather have Alessandra Dalmount in his bedroom than his boardroom.

Perhaps I can kill two birds with one stone.

For one moment, one very brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine wooing Alessandra so much that she gave up any foolish notions of being a businesswoman. His conscience won out. He was a businessman and not a man-whore using his wares to convince women to do as he pleased.

Alessandra didn’t deserve to be his partner, but she definitely didn’t deserve to have her heart and body toyed with, either.

Alek sat down on the sofa and pulled the conference phone closer to press the intercom button. “Ms. Kingsley.”

“Sir?”

“I need to speak with each of the board members, starting with Aldrich Brent,” he said. “Call each one. Give me thirty minutes and get the next on the line.”

“Yes, sir.”

He rubbed his hands together in the moments before his phone buzzed. It was time to gauge just what side the board was going to choose. He couldn’t do anything about her ownership, but he could call for a vote for her to be officially removed as chief executive officer.

Chapter 3

Three weeks later

Alessandra closed her copies of the Wall Street Journal and New York Times and picked up her cup of lavender tea to take several deep sips before she sat it down and reached for her iPad. Enjoying the feel of the July sun blazing through the windows of her two-story penthouse apartment, she connected with the online editions of International Business Times, London’s Financial Times and Italy’s Corriere della Sera. All five newspapers were a part of her normal routine, but she preferred the feel of the print paper against her fingers as she turned the pages.

Just like her beloved books. She was still a voracious reader of those set during the Elizabethan era and had curated a small collection of rare first editions of authors of that era. There was something to be said for tradition. Respect for the past.

“You have an old soul, my Alessandra,” her father would say, and then playfully pinch her nose.

She smiled at the memory as she looked around at the French country design of her luxurious apartment with its soft muted tones, high-end furnishings, fine art and sweeping views of the Manhattan skyline. She grew up surrounded by such excess, but she had never felt at ease. Her style was simplistic. It was a part of her inheritance from her father, and she could never imagine changing the decor or getting rid of the apartment. It was just as her father had left it and he’d had it designed in the taste her mother would have loved. And so, for all its grandeur, living in the penthouse made her feel closer to them both.

Alessandra looked down the length of the table large enough to seat twelve people. Every empty chair was a reminder of her loneliness. Her longing caused an ache to radiate across her chest.

She didn’t long for more people in her life. She wasn’t even interested in dating with her focus on her career. No, Alessandra just wanted less space to echo around her.

The penthouse was a place to stay during the week while she was in Manhattan. Home was the family estate in Passion Grove, New Jersey. She smiled. Passion Grove. She absolutely loved the small town and couldn’t wait to get there on Friday evenings.

Although the vast majority of the residents were wealthy, the town was ideal for those with luxurious homes still wanting to enjoy the small-town feel. Everyone knew one another and there were many events and holidays the townspeople enjoyed together. For her, Passion Grove, with its heart-shaped lake and streets named after flowers, was ideal.

Alessandra looked up as her maid silently entered the room to begin clearing her dishes. “Tell Cook everything was delicious as always, Gia,” she said before rising from the table, setting her linen napkin atop her nearly empty plate.

Gia nodded. “I will,” she said warmly. “Have a good day, Ms. Dalmount.”

“Same to you, Gia,” she said, offering her a soft smile. “Thanks.”

Alessandra was well aware her demeanor with her staff at her various homes was different than with her staff at work. She had nothing to prove at home. No one was judging her. She could be herself, and that was thoughtful and kind. At ADG, that would be taken for weakness.

She chuckled as she used a crimson-red stiletto-shaped nail to ease her hair back behind her ear. “Elsa,” she said with another chuckle. The modern take on calling her the ice queen. Alessandra mockingly pretended to pout at the memory. When she discovered that’s what she was called behind her back, the last thing she did was “let it go.” Instead she took the chill factor up a notch. “I gave them frozen, all right.”

Her footsteps echoed against the travertine stone floors. The reminder of the emptiness of the five-bedroom apartment was deafening. She passed the door leading into her father’s palatial master suite and her own childhood bedroom still decorated in shades of baby pink and ivory with an abundance of ruffles. She had long ago selected the largest of the three guest suites, preferring the more adult decor.

She removed the white floor-length robe she wore, already missing the cool feel of the woven cotton as she lay it across the foot of the king-size upholstered bed. In the walk-in closet separating the bedroom from the en suite spa bathroom hung a row of clear garment bags. Thirty in all. Each was labeled with a date with a clear shoe container on the shelf above it.

This was the playland of her stylist, Shiva Delacroix. Alessandra just visited it daily to wear whatever ensemble Shiva had prepared for that day. Everything from undergarments to accessories were readied, making her mornings easy and sending her into corporate America ready for war as if her clothing were her armor.

Another facade.

Alessandra turned the first bag and unzipped it to remove a burnt-orange button-up blouse teamed with flared trousers with racing stripes. She tore the Polaroid photo from the bag and set it atop the island in the center of the room, before removing the clothing from the suede hangers and getting dressed. She hummed Beyoncé’s “Grown Woman” as she checked the correct fit of the clothing by the model in the photo.

She undid the buttons exposing the top of her cleavage, pushed up the sleeves to her elbows, and made sure the multi-strand gold chain she wore just barely peeked from beneath the shirt. She rushed through slipping on the leopard-print calf-hair pumps and her favorite Patek Philippe watch and grabbing the clutch Shiva selected before leaving her suite.

In the foyer, she picked up her briefcase and keys from the table as she checked her watch and left the apartment through her private entrance and elevator. It opened into the first level of her exclusive parking area.

Ding.

The doors slid open and as expected her driver, Roje, was already waiting outside her father’s black 1954 Jaguar MK VII sedan. As a little girl, she could remember standing on the porch of their mansion in Passion Grove as her dad climbed into the back and was driven to work each day. Ever since her first day of work at ADG she had used the car, as well. It felt like a full circle moment.

With a soft smile to the tall and burly man of sixty with skin as dark and smooth as midnight and a bright white goatee, she slid inside, setting her purse on the leather seat beside her. Roje was her bodyguard and her driver. She held no fear in his presence. His name was of his Jamaican heritage and meant “a person who is a guard.” It suited him perfectly.

“Shiva’s showroom, Roje,” she requested, as she let her head fall back on the seat. Her eyes drifted closed.

She wasn’t physically tired, just weary at the thought of yet another fitting.

Thursday would see the start of the extended weekend-long celebration to mark the company’s thirtieth Jubilee anniversary. It was to be held at one of ADG’s properties, the Lake House, a castle resort in upstate New York. Luncheons, picnics, art exhibits, tours, bike rides, boating, rock climbing and a charity tennis game were on the schedule. All the high-ranking executives and their families were invited, along with business colleagues and the press. The weekend would culminate in a lavish ball to officially welcome Alessandra and Alek to their positions.

She was headed into Midtown Manhattan for the final fitting of her couture Zuhair Murad gown. Alessandra turned her head on the rest to look out the tinted window at the abundance of skyscrapers and hotels as Roje maneuvered the traffic on FDR Drive. The distance between Shiva’s showroom and the ADG offices was less than ten miles, but the drive would undoubtedly take every bit of twenty-five minutes.

She’d barely carved out the time for Shiva, because her focus had been on her report for the board. Their meeting was tomorrow morning at the Lake House before the celebratory festivities were scheduled to begin. Their vote of approval was the last step to ADG’s purchasing the controlling shares in ZiCorp, the shipping company she had personally selected and vetted for acquisition. It would serve as the perfect opportunity for ADG to branch into Greece, with personnel and an established customer base in place. She and her team had addressed every possible issue that might arise and any concern the board could have. Months of arduous work would hopefully pay off. The company was in solid shape and would be nothing but an asset to ADG, with a return on the purchase price of controlling shares of ZiCorp projected to be recouped within a year.

During her training time at ADG Alessandra had chosen to focus on mergers and acquisitions, particularly in the areas of favorable purchase price, market movement and successful integration techniques. This was the first deal she had managed, but it was solid.

She wanted to beat Alek. To humble him. To prove him wrong.

To earn his respect.

No. She purposefully pushed any thought of him aside, closing her eyes and shaking her head a bit to free her mind of any thought of the handsome—yet infuriating—rogue. He took up enough time in her life antagonizing her during the day and invading her dreams with wild thoughts at night.

“Ms. Dalmount.”

Alessandra opened her eyes. They were double-parked on Seventh Avenue outside the eighteen-story building where Shiva had set up a showroom for her impressive roster of clients. Usually, Shiva would come to her for measurements or fittings, but on occasion Alessandra preferred the normalcy of going to the showroom.

Roje now stood with the rear door open and his hand already outstretched to her. Picking up her purse, she accepted his assistance as she stepped onto the street. “Thank you,” she said, easing through the pedestrians, tourists and locals alike, who moved up and down the street with speed. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour, Roje.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, stepping ahead of her to open the glass door leading into the beautifully tiled lobby.

Alessandra rode one of the four elevators of the beautiful office building to the third floor. Through the glass wall and the double doors of the entrance to Shiva’s showroom, she took in the two thousand square feet of loft-style space lined with clothing racks and adorned mannequins with bright light streaming in from the windows.

She smiled and waved at Shiva, who was looking on as one of her three assistants adjusted the hem of an emerald satin strapless gown on a woman standing before a wall of mirrors.

“I’ll be right with you, Alessandra,” Shiva said, kneeling to lift the hem and then release it.

The woman before the mirror turned to look over her shoulder. She was a tall, caramel-skinned beauty with shoulder-length auburn hair and hazel eyes. She smiled at her as if they knew each other.

They did not.

Alessandra sat her clutch on the low-slung white leather couch running along the glass wall as she eyed her. The woman was stunning, and that would be a fact in or out of her beautiful formfitting dress.

“I see Shiva will be styling us both for the ball,” she said with a friendly grin and an accent that was English.

Alessandra stiffened and offered her a cool smile. “And you are?” she asked politely.

“Millicent... Alek’s date for the weekend,” she answered smoothly.

Alessandra fought not to frown. A date? He would.

“See you tomorrow then,” she said, deliberately softening her tone because it wasn’t the woman’s fault Alek was a philanderer who couldn’t stand to attend an event without arm candy.

“Okay, Milli, you’re all set,” Shiva said, raking her fingers through her waist-length jet-black hair. “If you go get changed, we’ll package the dress for you to take with you.”

Millicent smiled and showed perfect teeth before she lifted the dress and carefully walked to the rear of the showroom to the curtained-off dressing room area. The woman looked like Jessica Rabbit.

“You’re welcome,” Shiva said, as she strolled up to Alessandra in a floor-length white tunic and army boots.

“For my dress, yes, thank you as always, Shiva,” Alessandra said, her tone distracted as she drew her iPhone from her clutch and pulled up her contact list.

Shiva pressed her hand down against the screen.

She looked up in surprise at the thirtysomething Cuban woman with striking features that made her an odd beauty.

“I scheduled your fittings like this on purpose,” Shiva said, waving at her male assistant, who pushed a body form covered with white silk.

Alessandra swiped Shiva’s hand from her phone and scrolled through the list with the steady stroke of her thumb against the screen. There is no way I am attending the ball alone now. No. Way. In. Hell.

“Bring it to me but do not uncover it just yet,” Shiva called across the busy showroom.

“Hill,” Alessandra said, thinking of the corporate attorney she’d had lunch with weeks ago. He was boyishly handsome, well-dressed and successful. They had no chemistry, but he would suffice for the night. Wait...would that mean I’m using him?

Shiva gently removed her phone.

Alessandra frowned. Over the years they had become good friends and not just stylist and client.

“I wanted you to see Alek’s date in her dress,” she explained with a wink. “And give you a chance to wear the dress I first suggested.”

The two women shared a look before Alessandra adamantly shook her head, causing her hair to move back and forth against her nape.

Millicent walked up to them with her garment bag hung carefully over her arm. She looked just as striking in a simple white T and distressed boyfriend jeans with heels. “Bye, Shiva. And nice meeting you, Alessandra,” she said before leaving the showroom with long, model-like strides.

“You know the good thing about having that custom body form made to your specifications is that I really didn’t need you to fit the new dress to your body, mi amiga inocente,” she said.

Alessandra spoke Spanish, as well. “Yes, I’m your friend but I am not innocent,” she said defensively, looking toward the silk-covered form being rolled toward them.

“Humph,” Shiva teased, accepting the black garb a petite pink-haired assistant handed her.

She held it in front of Alessandra’s body as she steered her toward the wall of mirrors. The lace dress with long sheer sleeves and flowing A-line skirt was covered with delicate floral designed beadwork.

“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.

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