Curves Envy - Alphas Love Curves: BBW Billionaire Romance (9 page)

We both laugh.

“I was planning on having a drink alone to ease the burden of a long and stressful week, but I must confess, your company is exactly what I needed,” he declares, handing me the platter of tiny open-face sandwiches.

“Thank you.”
I can’t believe he said that.
“I’m happy I’m able to stick around and enjoy this lounge since my cousin can’t make it and I most likely would have retreated home had I not met you.”

“It would have been such a shame to rob these men of your presence.”

“You said you had a long and grueling week. What do you do?” I reroute the conversation before I combust. This guy is too dangerously hot for my own good.

“It’s such a typical New York question to want to know about a person’s profession before getting to know them. I’d rather know more about you than your job,” he says, sliding closer to me.

I bite my lower lip. His reprimand weighs on me and makes me feel like a child.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, it was a silly question.” I gulp my champagne to calm my nerves.

“I didn’t say your question was silly. I said it was typical of the go-go mentality we suffer from as New Yorkers. For instance, I’d rather you tell me about your travels than your workload.”

“My travels?” I ask, surprised, as I lean down towards the table to grab a piece of French brie.

“Yes. What was the last place you visited?”

Gosh, eighteen months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to answer his question because I was too heavy to comfortably fit in an airplane seat. Since becoming healthier, I’ve been able to travel with more confidence without fearing the sneers and stares of unkind souls.

I lift my eyebrow before answering. My last trip was such an eye-opener. “Three months ago, I was assigned to a story at work and I had to spend one week in Cuba and another one in Jamaica.”

Oh, no. Wrong answer. That’s related to work.

“Hmmm, I’m quite curious to find out what story you were covering even if it’s related to work.” He smiles before sipping more of his champagne.

“I had to cover a growing trend amongst single women of all ages. It started a few years ago, but it caught on fire after the release of the
Eat, Pray, Love
book. I’m sure you’ve never read it because it’s a chick book.”

“I can’t say I read too many of those.”

We both laugh.

“How is the book related to your travels? Now you’ve piqued my curiosity and since I doubt I’ll ever read the book, I’d love to understand the connection.”

“Basically, more and more women in North America and Europe travel to poorer countries in search of companionship, sex and even love. My colleague, Josie, covered the growing trend in Bali, but I ended up in the Caribbean.”

“Fascinating. I thought only men went on these sex vacations.”

“Have you ever been to one of those locations?” I joke.

“I don’t need to travel to Thailand and pay for sex. I can keep myself quite busy right here in New York City.”

His hazel eyes go cold, but the slight grin suggests he was trying to shock me. I hold his gaze and continue with my story.

“Women now have the money and freedom to do the same thing men have been doing for decades. It was an incredible experience to delve into this unspoken world, but personally I wouldn’t be able to maintain these types of relationships.”

“Why not?” He tops off my champagne glass before topping off his.

“The women have the money and many become sugar mommies to these younger and sometimes destitute men. In Jamaica, I interviewed this guy by the name of Elroy. He was a tall man with ebony skin and Rasta hair. He was only twenty-two, so only a few years younger than me, but he already had a wife and four kids. He also had a so-called girlfriend in Germany who sent him gobs of money every month. They communicated daily via a live Skype chat and she would come to visit every three months for her fix. The worst part is Elroy’s wife knows about the other woman, but she doesn’t mind because the German girlfriend sends a lot of money—far more than any menial job could pay on the island.”

“What offends you the most?” His leg brushes mine and I instinctively bring my hand up to the front of my dress. It’s as if I’m trying to hide the goosebumps on my chest.

“Good question,” I say, searching the ceiling for an answer. “I couldn’t deal with the idea of sharing a man. Not to mention after interviewing so many of these pseudo-gigolos, I realized none of them were take-charge kind of men. Some didn’t have any ambition other than to wait around for a wire transfer to magically drop large sums of money into their accounts. Perhaps it’s cultural, but it bothered me.”

After dating my fair share of wishy-washy men and after the incident with Vince, it would be nice to be with a strong man who could sweep me off my feet and let me know he’s in control.

Maximiliano studies me for a few long seconds before gulping down the amber liquid floating in his glass. He leans down towards the table and grabs the champagne bottle by the neck to top up both our glasses. He sits back, crosses one leg over the other and slides his right arm behind me.

“You like strong men?” His eyes sparkle when he asks the question.

Oops. I didn’t expect he’d latch on to my comment. Maybe I should slow down on the champagne.

“I mean some men are ambitious and decisive, but not all.” I pause, uncertain if I should continue down this potentially dangerous road. He’s already disarmingly charming and it remains unclear why he’s picked me out of all the beauties in this room. “Enough about me. What was the last place you visited, Maximiliano?” I change the subject to avoid revealing too much to this stranger whose sheer presence is making me lose my mind.

“I was in Brazil for the past three weeks and I came back ten days ago.”

This explains the tan.
“Wow. Were you there for vacation?” I ask before sipping more of my champagne.
God, I’ve never tasted anything this amazing before, but then again, I tend to buy the cheap stuff. I could never imagine buying a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

“Yes and no. I’m half Brazilian and half American. I also have a division of my business in Brazil that requires a bit more of my attention. I have a full team managing the day-to-day operation, but I’ll confess, I’ll use any excuse in the book to fly down there to visit my aunts and cousins.”

“I hope I’m not prying by asking if Maximiliano is a Brazilian name?”

“Not at all, Candice. I inherited my names from my maternal and paternal grandfathers. My dad can trace his roots to England, which explains my last name and my second middle name, Adrian. My mom wanted me to still be close to my ancestors, which explains my first middle name, Tomás. Both my parents decided on my first name because they thought it suited me even though it’s typically a Spanish name. My full name is Maximiliano Tomás Adrian Keller.”

What an impressive name.

“I’ve always been fascinated by names. I think it’s because my mom named me after Candice Bergen. She’s an actress and she was quite popular in the nineties. My middle name is Patricia, just like hers,” I say with a tinge of sadness. “Do you have a nickname?”

“Most people stick to Maximiliano, but my close friends call me Max.”

“Oh. Max is short and sweet, but Maximiliano sounds so exotic.”

“And do you have a nickname?”

“My friends call me Candy.”

“Hmmm. Candy.”

There’s something extremely erotic in the way he says my nickname and I cross my legs in an attempt to ignore the desire consuming me. I know I’m out of my league here and I shouldn’t lust over a guy I don’t have a hope in hell of catching, but he’s making it impossible for me to remain indifferent.

“I don’t know much about Brazil, but I did watch the soccer World Cup when it was hosted there a few years ago. I’m clueless about sports, but I got swept away by the energy.” I veer the conversation to a safer topic.

“Brazil is like paradise on earth. There’s no other place in the world quite like it because of our mixed heritage and breathtaking scenery. I’m certain you’d fall in love.”

“When I hear Brazil, I instantly flash to images of four distinct things,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“Really? And what are they?” he answers, matching the inquisitive expression on my face. 

I reward him a cocky smile as I put up four fingers in the air. “One, wild carnivals. Two, beautiful beaches. Three, scenes from a very popular James Bond movie were shot there in the late seventies. And four, all women look like supermodels. You know, like Gisele Bündchen, Alessandra Ambrosio and Adriana Lima.”

He tilts his head and laughs aloud. I immediately notice a few lookalike models glancing my way with envy.

Beautiful women envying me? Well, this is a new experience for sure.

“You got three out of four right.”

“Hmmm, I was certain
Moonraker
was shot in Brazil,” I say, uncrossing my legs and turning my body toward him.

“I think you’re too young to know so much about such an old Bond flick, but you’re right on the money on the movie location.”

“Well, my friends and I have weekend flick marathons and we watched all twenty-three James Bond movies over the course of four weekends a few months ago. So which one did I get wrong?”

He slides so close to me I catch the sophisticated scent of his cologne. He brushes my hair back before speaking into my ear. Chills run down my back and my nipples harden so much it’s painful.
Shit.

“Most women in Brazil look exactly like you. They have delicious curves, full butts, wide hips, luscious thighs and heavy breasts,” he whispers.

Oh, boy.
I desperately want to fan myself to cool down. This guy is raising my temperature to dangerous levels.

“No way,” I squeal. “Are you saying that to be nice?”

“Nice? You’d be shocked. My mother is from Brazil and she’s as curvy as my aunts and my cousins.” He winks. “In fact, they don’t look too different from you.”

“Maybe I was born in the wrong country or maybe I need to move to Brazil before the end of the week.”

“Maybe you haven’t met a man who appreciates curves.”

I swallow hard and stop breathing.
This is not happening. Someone needs to slap me right now to reassure me I’m fully awake.

Suddenly a voice behind Maximiliano breaks the tension.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Keller, but would you like to see the menu?”

Maximiliano peels his eyes from me and looks down at his impressive watch before looking up at the manager.

“Andrew, what a tempting proposition, but I have an early conference call at six o’clock in the morning at my office and since it’s already nine-thirty, I should be heading home. Unfortunately for me, my Friday is booked solid until six tomorrow night. I haven’t decided yet if I’m looking forward to another twelve-hour day, but what can you do?”

“It’s not easy to take Manhattan.”

“Those were last year’s goals. This year, I take the world.”

Both men are laughing at Maximiliano’s joke, but I’m still so overwhelmed by what just happened I sit quietly hoping to God my heart rate slows down before I pass out.

“Perhaps Candice would like to stay longer and sample your delectable selections.” Maximiliano turns around and I can tell from his boyish grin how amused he is at my obvious discomfort.

“Oh, no. I’m sure the food is amazing if the delicious appetizers are any indication, but it’s late and I should also get home.”

“Are you sure? Andrew will look after you and I can have a car waiting to drive you home.”

Thank God for the food because I would be carried out of here if I didn’t have something to absorb the superb amber nectar. Maximiliano kept pouring champagne and I kept drinking. “You’re being very generous, but I should get home.” I don’t have anything urgent to take care of at home other than petting Leo DiCaprio and returning Devin’s frantic text messages, but there’s no way I’m going to sit here by myself.

“Andrew, it seems both of us will call it a night. Is the members’ private VIP den busy at this time? I’d love to show my friend Candice the breathtaking view.”

“I doubt it’s busy, Mr. Keller. It’s been quiet all week and since tonight is Thursday, most of our members are enjoying a relaxing evening.”

“Can I still go up there?”

“Absolutely. You’re one of our esteemed members. You can simply use your electronic access card to let yourself in. Would you like me to send someone up there with more drinks?”

Wow. He’s a VIP member at this prestigious hotel?

“Oh, no, Andrew. I doubt we’ll stay long.”

“You’re going to love the view at night. It’s spectacular.” Andrew’s eyes sparkle when he looks at me and I’m already excited by the new adventure.

“I think I’m ready to settle my tab.”

“Let me grab the bill.” Andrew leaves as quickly as he arrived without waiting for Maximiliano’s answer.

“I didn’t want to assume, but I’m glad we’ll have a chance to leave together. You won’t believe your eyes when we get to the forty-first floor.” Maximiliano has returned his full attention to me. “I hope you no longer consider me a stranger anymore. I think the last few hours together have allowed us to get to know each other much better.” He brushes my arm with the back of his index finger and I widen my eyes, surprised by the intimacy of his warm touch.

Andrew’s return saves me from having to compromise myself with an answer.
Thank God.
 

“Let me pay and let’s go upstairs.”

Maximiliano gets on his feet, fishes for his wallet in the interior of his expensive-looking tailored grey suit before pulling out four one-hundred-dollar bills and flinging them on the table in front of me.
Yeah, I’m going to stick to the cheap bubbly for now.

“Shall we?” He extends his hand to me and I know the second our palms touch, I’ll melt inside.

It may be nothing more than a few hours in a swanky New York hotspot with a dreamy guy over expensive champagne, but this never happens to me. The evening could end right here and I’d feel like I spent two hours in heaven.