Chapter 8

Alex gave Antonio the evening off. He decided to walk home tonight instead of being driven. He walks along the sidewalk, his thoughts on the Cosmo Hotel. He was not pleased about the delay in progress. However, he had built enough hotels to know things happened. A one week delay was manageable.

Alex also knew he had a good a team in place. He always employed the best people he could find. It was vital to his company and his brand. He thought about Katherine. In her short time working for him she had proven herself to be a valuable asset to him. Professionally and hopefully, personally.

Alex knew she was holding back. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He saw the look in her eyes tonight. It was just a matter of time. Alex knew that with Katherine it had to be when she was ready – and only then. That was fine with Alex. He was patient. He could wait. In fact, he was quite enjoying this little waiting game. It made him want her even more. Deep down, he knew she was worth the wait.

Alex crossed the street to Portobello Market and found the booth he was looking for. Same saleslady sitting there, looking bored. She perked up when she saw Alex. He scanned the tables until his eyes landed upon the scarf. The white cashmere scarf she liked so much. He paid for the scarf and left the market.

Alex was looking forward to going home. Home was a two-level penthouse suite at the Whitmore Plaza, one of his developments, of course. He liked living there. Beautiful, yet understated, without a lot of the glitz of his other properties. And it also had the added benefit of being highly secure. More secure than Fort Knox. He built the property with the intention of living there, so he took the liberty of adding extra precautions – an underground tunnel, his own private elevator, and bullet proof glass windows.

Security was of the utmost importance to Alex. It had to be. If it wasn’t, it could cost him his life. It was how he had been trained.

* * *

“So, do you feel you’re settling in?” Sandra asks, sipping her tea. It’s Sunday afternoon, and Sandra and I decide to get together. We’re enjoying the wonderful British tradition of afternoon tea at a nearby outdoor café.

“I do. I’ve been so busy with work, trying to learn the ropes. I feel like I’ve just now had a chance to catch my breath.”

“And what do you think of London?”

“It’s lovely. I feel incredibly lucky to be here. I know a lot of people would love to be in my shoes.”

“Well, you deserve it. Working for Alex is not always a walk in the park.”

I hesitated before asking. “Sandra, you’ve worked for Alex for a long time. What do you know about him?” I ventured.

“Honestly, not that much,” she replies, shrugging her shoulders. “All I know is that he was in some part of the military before he started building hotels.” She looks down for a moment. “He’s very private. No one really knows much about him. A bit mysterious, really.” Sandra leans forward, ready to divulge a juicy tidbit of information. “You know, he has a reputation for screwing anything in a skirt and heels. I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Yeah, I have. I just chalked it up to rumor,” I reply.

Sandra gives me a look. “Rumor? Please. He is most definitely a skirt chaser. He’s screwed half the women in London. He is gorgeous, though.”

I look down at my coffee, unable to hide my emotions.

“Oh, shit,” Sandra says, a concerned look on her face.

“What?”

“You slept with him?” she asks, eyes wide. It was more of a statement than a question.

“No…..” I reply sheepishly, my cheeks burning. “We just kissed. Twice.”

Sandra groans. “No, Katherine. Not you, too.” She looks at me, shaking her head. “Personally, I think he started the hotel business just so he could have a place to shag women and not have to bring them back to his place. I can’t tell you how many women he’s been through during the time I’ve worked for him. Too many to count,” she says, making a face. “Look, I know the man is take-your-breath-away gorgeous,” Sandra continues, “but he’s trouble.”

This is not the first time I’ve heard someone describe Alex as trouble.

“And he’s your boss,” she says. I can hear the disapproval in her voice.

“Thanks for reminding me,” I say dryly.

“I’m sorry, Katherine. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. I know she means well.

“I know. And I agree with you. But, when I’m around him, I lose all willpower. He has this way about him – he’s irresistible.”

“Yeah. I know.” She pauses, lost in thought for a moment. “I mean, there is something about him,” she says quickly.

I lean back, place my hands in my lap. “What should I do?”

Sandra suddenly sits up, eyes shining bright. “I know! I could introduce you to Harry’s co-worker, Dean. He’s the nicest chap. I’ll have a dinner party, invite a few people. You need to get your mind off Alex and onto someone new.”

“You’re right. This is exactly what I need,” I replied, nodding in agreement.

“Brilliant!” Sandra says, beaming. “How does next Saturday sound, around six?”

“That sounds great, Sandra. And thank you.”

We stand and hug each other goodbye. Sandra’s right. I do need to get my mind off Alex, and meeting some new people would probably help. I tell myself to get excited about new possibilities, and push thoughts of Alex out of my mind. At least for now.

The man sat a few tables over from the blonde woman, pretending to read a newspaper. He had followed her to the café, discretely watched her while she waited for the brunette to arrive. He had first seen the woman a few weeks ago while she was with Alex McCall. He had been tracking Alex for weeks, making sure to remain hidden in the shadows. He changed his appearance frequently to ensure he would not be noticed. He wasn’t. He was an expert at blending in with the crowd. It was how he’d been trained.

He had followed Alex and the blonde throughout Portobello Market, making sure to keep a safe distance. Then watched them make their way the pub. He was going to follow them into the restaurant, but changed his mind when he saw that Alex had suddenly become alert. He chuckled. Alex had temporarily let his guard down when he was with the blonde, all of his attention focused on her. Which was exactly what he wanted. All it took was for a target to let their guard down, only for a second, and they were his. He decided not to take his chances, and had slowly, quietly walked by, and then disappeared into the crowded street.

He listened to the blonde woman chatting to her friend. She was obviously American. He could hear snippets of their conversation, listening, acquiring information about her as she spoke. The man could hear what sounded like a Southern accent, her words slightly drawn out, vowels emphasized. He planned to do a complete profile on her.

He would also continue to do surveillance on McCall. He would watch and wait. And when the time was right, Alex McCall would be his.

I return home to find a box outside my door. That’s strange, I thought. I’m not expecting any deliveries. Probably a care package from Mom, I thought, smiling at her thoughtfulness. Picking up the box, I notice how light it is.

I walk into the flat, put the box aside, and immediately pull the drapes back. Sunshine fills the space, giving it a warm glow. I decide I need to get some plants for the flat, maybe a few pieces of art to hang on the walls, too.

My stomach rumbles, it’s time to eat. Cooking has always been a pleasure for me. I know some people find it to be a hassle, especially if they live alone, but not me. Not that I’m a gourmet cook. Far from it. But I do enjoy it. I begin chopping up an onion and open a package of ground beef. Thirty minutes later, I’m eating a comforting meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, the flavors reminding me of home.

After eating and then checking my email, I pick up the package. I gently shake it, hear a slight rustle. Finding a pair of scissors, I carefully begin to open it. Inside is a white box with ornate silver scrolls delicately drawn along the sides of the box. Lifting the top off, I see a small notecard lying atop white tissue paper.

‘A beautiful woman deserves a beautiful scarf.’

Alex

The cashmere scarf from Portobello Market. I slowly remove it from the box, feeling the softness of the fabric between my fingers. It’s even more beautiful than I remember, so simple and elegant. I’m reminded of our Saturday together, how surprised I was to see him, and how much I enjoyed the day with him. I place the scarf back in the box, debating whether I should accept this gift from Alex. Alex – my boss. I have to keep reminding myself of this simple fact.

It’s just a scarf, not a ring! Most women would love a gift like this. Yes, he is your boss. But, you love this scarf and it was kind of him to buy it for you. You should be thankful.

I’ve talked myself into it - I’ll accept the gift. After all, it would be rude not to.