Читать книгу A Billionaire Affair - Niobia Bryant - Страница 12

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.