Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males (66 page)

She finally sat back and rubbed her eyes,
glancing away from her monitor just in time to see Red striding past her
cubicle.
 
He didn’t even turn to
look at her, make eye contact, nothing.

She knew full well that he’d seen her,
though.
 
Red didn’t miss a thing, he
was notoriously detail oriented.
 
She’d heard stories of him remembering people’s names, friends of
friends that he’d never even met but had heard someone mention years before.

Burning with rage, her pride mortally
wounded, she got up and followed him through the maze of cubicles and out into
the hallway near his private elevators.
 
Luckily there was nobody else out there.

“Why are you ignoring me?” she said, as
he pressed the call button.

He turned slowly, not showing even an
ounce of surprise at her following him.

“Ignoring you?”

“Yes.
 
We…” she looked around again to make
sure nobody could hear her.
 
“We had
that time together.
 
It meant a lot
to me.
 
I thought we shared
something special.”
 
She hated the
pleading quality her voice had taken on, petulant, childish.

He studied her like a scientist
discovering a peculiar new species of insect.
 
“I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“I know that.”
 
Her voice quieted.
 
She knew she’d overstepped her bounds.

“Did you enjoy yourself this weekend?”

Startled, she met his steady gaze.
 
“Did I enjoy myself?”

“You had some company.
 
A young man.
 
Was that also
special
?”
  

“My roommate was interested in
his friend, so she insisted—“

He waved her explanation off.
 
“Your time is your own.”

“You spied on me.”
 
She’d only just realized he must have
had someone watching her.

“I need to look after you,” he said, his
tone softening.
 
He came towards her
now.
 
“I have to protect you at all times.
 
I’ll never let any harm come to you.”

“If someone was watching me, then you
know I wasn’t with that stupid boy.”

He smiled at her.
 
“I’m aware of everything.”

“So why did you try and use it against
me?”

“I don’t like you putting yourself in
those situations.
 
Out at bars,
bringing strange men home.
 
Things
can happen fast.
 
What if I can’t
get to you in time?”

“I can take care of myself,” she said,
but inside she was joyful.
 
Her
heart sang.
 
He cared.
 
He was watching after her the whole
time.
 
He hadn’t simply forgotten
about her.

“I can’t talk much longer,” he said.
 
The elevator pinged its arrival.
 
“I have an important meeting to attend
to.”

“I—I miss you.”

“You’ve forgotten your manners again,” he
chided, turning to enter the elevator.
 
“I’ll be in touch.”

And then the doors closed and he was
gone.

***

That night, he came for her.

It was only just after ten o’clock.
 
She and Danielle were watching a
Desperate Housewives rerun and snacking on roasted peanuts.

The apartment buzzer sounded, making both
of them jump.

Danielle and her locked eyes.
 
“You think it’s a mistake?” Nicole
asked.

“I don’t know.”
 
Danielle jumped up and ran to the
window, looked down at the street.
 
“There’s some fancy black car parked out front, but I can’t see
anybody.”

Again, the buzzer sounded.

Red.
 
It had to be, Nicole thought.
 
She ran to the intercom.
 
“Hello?”

“Be outside in five minutes,” the deep
voice said.

“I need to get dressed,” she
replied.
 
But he’d already gone.

Danielle stared at her.
 
“Who’s that?”

“I—I—It’s an old friend of
mine.
 
He just moved here and he
mentioned he might be around but I forgot.”
 
She started running to her room to
change.
 
He hadn’t been specific
about what to wear.

“An old friend who drives a fancy ass car
like that?
 
What’s his name?”

“His parents are very rich!” she yelled
back, running to her closet and pouring quickly through her hangers.
 
Finally she saw something that might
work.
 
A black and white striped
Nordstrom miniskirt.
 
To go with it,
a white sleeveless top.
 
It was a pretty
hot combination and one she would normally fret over.
 
She’d bought both pieces a couple of
years ago when she’d been determined to try and come out of her shell.

That had never quite happened…

She stripped off her sweats and undies,
found a pair of thong panties, decided to go nude underneath and tossed the
thong aside.
 
Quickly, she put on
her ensemble and a pair of short heels, then went to the bathroom to freshen
up.
 

Danielle was watching her when she came
out of the bathroom.
 
“What the hell
is going on?” she demanded.

“Nothing, I told you.
 
I have this friend—“

“Who is it really?
 
You’re a terrible liar.”

“Gotta go!
 
I’ll be back soon!” she called, running
out the door before Danielle could try and grill her further.

Danielle came to the door as Nicole ran
down the stairwell.
 
“Be careful!”

“I will!”

And then she reached the first floor
landing and burst out into the cool night air.
 
It was chilly and breezy and she was
wearing next to nothing.

The car was a black Bentley, which she
remembered from reading the Rolling Stone article.
 
The car was running softly.
 
She opened the passenger door and Red
glanced at her.
 
“Get in back,” he
said.

She was about to say yes sir, and
apologize for thinking she could ride up front with him.
 
But then she realized he had come
for her
.
  

“No, I won’t get in back,” she said.
 
“If you can’t stand to have me in the
front seat next to you, then forget it.”

He glanced at her sideways.
 
“Fine,” he sighed.
 
“Hurry up.”

She smiled at her small but important
victory, got inside and closed her door.
 
He immediately sped off, driving very fast but in total control.
 
Speed normally scared her, but not with
Red at the wheel.
 
He was as home
here as anywhere, and his movements were all precise and deliberate, nothing
was left to chance.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he
turned one corner and then immediately into the next.

“You know where.”

She frowned.
 
“Your little tacky apartment where you
bring all your whores.”

That made him smile.
 
“Whores?”

“It’s true.
 
And I’m not one of them.”

He chuckled.
 
“I never said you were.”

“And I’m not going there.”

Now it was his turn to frown.
 
“You agreed to my rules.”

“You said I was free to stop at any
time.”

“I can turn the car around on your word,”
he said, daring her.

“Fine.”
 
She eyed him.

He slowed the Bentley.
 
He was wearing one of his dark suits
with a bright pink tie.
 
He looked
dashing, like he’d stepped right out of one of those photo shoots she’d paged
through recently.
 
“What is it you
want from me?” he asked her.

“I want a real date.”

“What’s a real date?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she told him.
 

His jaw stiffened.
 
“I’m not playing anything.”

She folded her arms.
 
“I’ll go back to your special room,” she
said.
 
“Gladly.”

“That’s better,” he smiled.

“
After
we have a proper date.”

Now he looked like he’d just drank liquid
soap.
 
“Fine.
 
Have it your way, Nicole.”

He made an abrupt U-turn and took off in
the opposite direction, even faster than before.

Within ten minutes, they arrived at a
restaurant called The Davenport.
 
A
valet took his keys and called him Mr. Jameson in a familiar way.
 
Red escorted Nicole past a small coterie
of waiting patrons and smiled at the hostess.
 
“Table for two, if you please.”

“Of course.
 
Right away,” she said, scurrying for
menus and took them right to one of the few remaining window seats.
 

“I’m a little underdressed,” Nicole said,
after they’d taken their seats.

He shrugged.
 
“You wanted a real date, you didn’t
specify that I had to accommodate your choice of attire.”

“Fair enough.”
 
She smiled at him.
 
“I like this.”
 
She started browsing the menu. It
consisted of foods that she’d never had before, the kind of stuff she’d seen
while watching the Food Network perhaps, but never in real life.

She was still trying to decide on
something when the waiter appeared.
 
He was thin, small, older, with a tiny mustache.
 
“Mister Jameson, what can I get for you
sir?”

Red took her menu from her and handed it
to the waiter.
 
“She will have the duck
cassoulet and I will have the agnolotti with squid.”

“Wonderful choices, sir.”

“Also, a bottle of the
Latour Pauillac,” Red added, handing his menu
to the waiter with finality.

The waiter
nodded briskly, turned on his heel and hurried away.

Red turned his attention
to her now.
 
He folded his hands on
the table.
 
“Do you like it here?”

“It’s very
elegant.
 
But it would have been
nice if you’d asked what I wanted to eat.
 
I was going to order the organic chicken.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you
going to order the organic chicken?”

She hesitated,
realizing she didn’t even know why.
 
“Because…”

“Because it was
safe.”

She
frowned.
 
“I like chicken.”

“Then you’ll
love the duck cassoulet.”

“You need to be
in control all of the time,” she said.
 
“It must get exhausting for you.”

He
shrugged.
 
“I think it’s worked out
pretty well for me.”

“It’s
exhausting for anyone who has to deal with you.”

His eyes
narrowed ever so slightly.
 
“Depends
on who you ask.”

“I’m sure all
the girls you bring back to the apartment love it.”

The waiter came
to the table with the wine, showed it to them both, and opened it with a
flourish.
 
Red tasted it and seemed
to approve, so the waiter poured them each a half glass and set the bottle in
the center of the table before leaving.

Nicole sipped
her wine.
 
It tasted amazing, better
than any drink she’d ever had.
 
She
was trying to decide if the wonderful taste of her wine was more an
after-effect of being in Red’s presence.
 
Everything seemed better right now.
 
Her clothes felt sexier, her eyes sharper, she heard everything.
 

The clinking
forks and knives as an older couple ate something unrecognizable at a table
just over Red’s shoulder, someone across the room tittering laughter.

 
Red was looking at her with
interest.
 
“You’re so young,” he
marveled.