I am aware my features combine into something people deem attractive. I do not see it, I think my nose is too big and brow too heavy. I also have a half inch scar on my cheek and an inch-long scar on my chin, both gifts from Agatha’s ring worn when she struck me. Alexandra’s appeal goes up a notch when she blinks, and there is not a hint of attraction in them.
I wish I could say the same. The picture in her file did not come close to the Alexandra Clark in front of me. Her hair is not nearly as mousy brown as it looked in the picture. Long and straight and cascading down her shoulders it is dark, rich mahogany with natural red and gold highlights. Alexa’s eyes are not merely blue they are a brilliant deep sapphire. She is not wearing any makeup; with her light olive skin tone and clear complexion she does not need it.
She has a heart-shaped face with round high cheekbones, a small pert nose, over a wide soft mouth that has me wondering what her lips will look like around my cock, and—what the fuck was that? No, not happening is what I’m thinking even as my cock stirs.
Alexa’s body is lush, soft, ripe, and incredibly sensuous. Even though she is shorter than the six-foot-plus models I usually fuck, she is still taller than average, somewhere around five nine. Nothing about her has ever appealed to me before. So why the fuck am I staring at her legs beneath her prim skirt, thinking as good as they look they will look better wrapped around my waist?
This is a fucking aberration, knock it off, I scold my cock. Then I take the hand she offers me. Her hand is small, soft and in my larger hand feels fragile. A low hum of electricity shoots through me at her touch, and I’m dropping it as if it were burning me. This is not fucking happening. It’s been several weeks since my last release after having to end things with clingy Tara, that is all this is.
Her eyes are cool as ice, she’s looking at my tie with a small, bland smile. There is no hint she is going through the same turmoil I am. I motion for her to sit. Only now do I notice she is carrying a small paper bag I recognize immediately. It’s takeout from Maki Sushi, my preferred sushi restaurant. She sets the bag on my desk then steps back, sitting she crosses her legs primly at the ankle. I sit, careful of my thickening cock.
“The sushi is a suggestion of Victoria’s. Two lobster rolls and one California roll with salmon instead of crab. Victoria was sure you wouldn’t have had dinner yet and would be hungry.”
Even her voice is sexy, light yet husky. I imagine it coming out of the dark begging me to fuck her. Instantly, I’m starving, only I’m not hungry for food, my cock is salivating for her. I pull her file close to me even though I do not see a word as I fight to get myself under control.
She is finally hesitant. “I hope it’s okay to have brought you dinner.”
The slight tremor in her voice has my eyes up, searching for the answer to what the hell is going on with me. This is her fault, what is it about her? My voice is harsher than I intend, needing to put her further out of her comfort zone. “Tell me why you want to work for me.”
Blue eyes blink fast, her hands tighten in her lap, her lips thin then the ice is back. “It’s a tie between the salary and the opportunity of working for you.”
Her voice is cool, even. Her composure in the face of my own inner unrest infuriates me, “Explain yourself.”
Alexandra Clark is looking through me, no one has looked through me since Agatha. It incites violence within me.
“I would be lying if I didn’t say the money mattered. With the money I’ll be making, things I didn’t think were possible will be. Then there’s working with you. Despite what movies and books want to make out, becoming a billionaire isn’t something that just happens. Thousands of people work hard and never make it. There’s an extra something that takes a person from million to billion that can’t be taught. There are people who would pay to be where I will be, but it’s me who will be paid, and very well.”
Now, I am on an even keel. This is what I am used to, my money being the draw. It is refreshing to have a person admit money is what brings them to me. For ninety-nine-point-nine percent of people I meet, women and men, my appeal is my money. Only they want to pretend it’s something else. Begrudgingly, I give Alexa Clark another point, in addition to all the others.
“You will earn your money. I do not keep banker’s hours, as you can see. While I will not expect you to work as many hours as I do you will be expected to be available to me every day of the week, to pick up when I call whatever you may be doing. Is that something you are prepared for? To work for what you want? What are you working for, Ms. Clark? What are your plans for your future?”
The question throws her, her ice melts for a moment. “I’m aware I’ll need to be available, and I’m willing to be.” A pause of hesitation. “I want to be able to write full time before I retire. That’s my plan for the future, working for you will make it possible. I’ve completed three novels to date, with my fourth releasing in a few months. My plan is after five years at this salary. I’ll be able to live off what I’ve saved while I write full time.”
I am intrigued by her honesty. “What have you written?”
“Historical fiction, set in Renaissance Italy.”
Interesting, I wonder if I have read her before. I enjoy reading for relaxation although I do not read as often as I would like. “I can understand someone wanting to work with me if they were looking to start their own company, or work for themselves. You write about Renaissance Italy what do you hope to learn working for me?”
“My main characters are various members of the Medici family. The Prince was written then, and it’s still as relevant now as it was then.”
The tart reply earns her a smile, I have no control over.
Her blue eyes glow in return. “You believe I would make a good character study?”
>
Her head tilts ever so slightly, “I believe I’ll never find anyone better to observe. I’ve never been able to pin down Cosimo’s ambitious plans where he was always several steps ahead of everyone else. I’d like to see it in action.”
“I do believe there is a whole chapter on avoiding flatterers.”
“There’s flattery, and there’s fact. You’re the one who must recognize one from the other. Because of course, you’ve read The Prince. Did you highlight it as well?” She responds with a quirk of those soft, plump lips.
I want those lips around my cock. “Of course, when I was thirteen and then again at university. I don’t use highlighters. So, you are going to study me.”
Blue eyes trail down my body then she blinks fast, her blush is down to her beautiful neck. “Observe by doing work—working for you. It’s obvious you’ve used principles Machiavelli expounded on successfully. I couldn’t find someone better to observe if I were in that period of time in Italy.”
Hmm, she has eyes in her head no doubt about it. Still, the blush fades fast from her cheeks.