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
