‘For starters, Alejandro Aguilar is one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. He already sees you as a worthy businesswoman, thanks to your association with Jameson. Capitalise on that and you could become one of the most powerful and iconic women in the world. Of course, I would recommend a trip to a stylist and more care with your hair, but these things can be achieved with a single phone call. Think of what that could mean for Jameson PR. Think of what it could mean for you!’
Blind, foolish tears rushed into Elise’s eyes. ‘Stop, Mom. Please, just stop.’
‘Why? Where’s the harm—’
‘The harm is that I’m not that kind of woman! I won’t sleep with a man just to get ahead. Alejandro already suspects I’m tarred with the famous Jameson brush!’
Fury surged into her mother’s face. But Elise wasn’t afraid. Marsha Jameson’s fury was the quiet, lethal type. She wasn’t prone to ranting or raving. She merely exuded icy rage until the other party deigned to grovel in apology.
But Elise wasn’t in the mood to apologise. That need had diminished significantly over the years. Which was not to say the pain that ravaged her insides had abated one iota. In direct contrast to her mother’s silent condemnation, her pain howled, long and vicious and deep.
So deep, she barely acknowledged her mother’s icy
exit.
Elise only rose when she realised her front door had been left wide open. Evidently, Marsha Jameson’s anger had no room to accommodate thoughts of her daughter’s safety.
After locking the door, Elise went into her bedroom and pulled out her suitcase. The effort not to succumb to tears for the second night in a row nearly failed as she packed. She’d shed enough tears, thanks to fate’s decision over her parentage. She was in grave danger of becoming pathetic.
Straightening her spine, she glanced down at the contents of her suitcase. Seeing the greys and blacks tucked inside, she firmed her lips, determinedly zipped the case shut, and tugged it to the front door.
On impulse she pulled out an old, slightly battered flat case. Then immediately swallowed a sob. Adding it to her suitcase, she showered and went to bed. When a tear slipped free, she reassured herself it was for the dream she’d pushed to the back of her life.
A dream that perhaps wouldn’t remain a dream for long.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE RIDE TO Midway International Airport at what felt like the crack of dawn was non-eventful. Unlike the thumping of her heart as the limo Alejandro had sent for her stopped alongside a huge gleaming white private jet with the SNV logo displayed discreetly on the tail.
‘Mr Aguilar’s already on board, ma’am. Your luggage will be taken care of.’ The impeccably uniformed driver doffed his cap after he helped her out.
As she crossed the Tarmac and mounted the steps, her mother’s words filtered, unbidden, into her mind. Alejandro indeed commanded a powerful top step on the world stage. Thus far, she’d only experienced him in the environs of his company and very briefly at a dinner that only lasted a few hours.
The swiftness with which he’d secured an audience with Kenzo Ishikawa and started a different set of balls rolling in Kyoto had amazed her yesterday. Stepping into the plane and seeing Alejandro seated at a large conference table, a pile of documents at his elbow, while the crew buzzed around in preparation for the flight, she was suddenly struck by the sheer power he wielded.
Power her mother wanted Elise to whore herself to achieve a slice of.
The brightness of the morning dimmed as despair and desolation threatened to sink deeper into her.
‘The quicker you find a seat, the quicker we can take off, Elise.’
She started at the deep drawl. Unwilling to admit what the tenor of that tone did to her see-sawing emotions, she smiled at a crew member who passed her, and made her way across the shockingly spacious midsection to where Alejandro sat. ‘Good morning to you, too.’
He lifted a mocking brow at her, and indicated the seat opposite him. ‘Buenos días. If that sour look is because of the early hour, rest assured, you won’t be required to work the whole thirteen hours of the flight. There are bedrooms on board. Take a nap, if you feel so inclined.’
Elise shook her head. ‘I don’t need a nap,’ she replied, then promptly yawned.
He sent her a speaking glance. ‘Sí, you’re fresh as the proverbial daisy.’
‘I slept badly. So sue me.’
He frowned. ‘Litigation won’t be necessary. We’ve all suffered sleepless nights at one point or other.’
‘I didn’t meant that literally—oh, never mind.’
Tossing his pen onto the table, he sat back and observed her for a full minute before, raising a hand, he summoned an attendant and ordered coffee to be delivered after take-off.
‘I’m surprised I didn’t realise this before,’ he murmured.