CHAPTER TWELVE
Maya Blake
Alejandro always plays by the rules...
Alejandro Aguilar never mixes business with pleasure—but his newest employee, marketing guru Elise Jameson, is refreshingly different and irresistibly intoxicating. Working together on a high-octane multibillion-dollar merger, exhilaration gets the better of them...
Until now!
But this Spaniard is still wrestling demons from his past and he sees betrayal everywhere, including in the eyes of his temptress, Elise. So he fires her, destroying the business deal—and her heart. Until he realizes his mistake. Innocent Elise is the key to the merger, and she knows her price—but is Alejandro prepared to go all in?
ALEJANDRO AGUILAR STEPPED out of a bracing, ice-cold shower to the sound of a ringing phone. At 4:00 a.m. such an occurrence would have alarmed most people. He already had a fair idea of why his early-morning routine was being disturbed.
Crossing the master bedroom suite of his Chicago penthouse, he draped the towel round his neck and picked up the phone.
‘Is it done?’
A muted sigh from his chief strategist, Wendell Grant, greeted him. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but they wouldn’t be swayed. We’ve thrown everything at them, including my firstborn son.’
The attempt at humour fell flat, causing the weary-sounding man to clear his throat uncomfortably.
Alejandro’s grip tightened on the handset, the inkling he’d harboured for several weeks expanding to nape-tingling certainty. There were far too many indicators to ignore the suspicion any longer.
‘Frankly, I’m at a loss as to why they’ve suddenly become so intransigent,’ Wendell continued. ‘The Ishikawa brothers’ team refuses to even discuss what the problem is beyond stating that they need more time.’
Alejandro knew what the problem was. The heads of the Japanese e-commerce conglomerate were protracting the deal, which should’ve been finalised a month ago, in order to accommodate a third party’s interest.
‘How did you leave things?’ he asked.
‘They’ve asked for a few more days. We tried to get an earlier date but they wouldn’t budge. We’ve agreed to a videoconference on Friday.’
‘That’s unacceptable. I’m not waiting another five days. Call them back. Tell them I want the Ishikawa brothers in conference tomorrow.’
‘Yes, sir.’
About to hang up, Alejandro sensed his executive’s reticence. ‘Is there something else?’
‘Well...I got the feeling they think they have the upper hand. The dynamic has definitely shifted...’
Hearing his suspicions voiced by another brought a clench of anger to Alejandro’s gut. If his executives had sniffed out the same issue, it was time to take over the helm again.
‘Sir? Is there something we should know?’
Alejandro squashed his ire. ‘I’ll take it from here. Extend my gratitude to the team and tell everyone to take the day off. You’ve earned it.’
‘You still want me to make the call?’ Wendell asked.
‘No. I’ll take care of it.’ Now that he knew with whom he was dealing, it was time the gloves came off.
‘If you’re sure, then I better get home to my wife before she serves me with divorce papers.’ Another weary laugh, which fizzled away, the other man sensing Alejandro’s tense mood. ‘Oh, one last thing. I had my assistant compile the shortlist of PR firms for you. Jameson PR has the most extensive experience in Asia. I think at this stage we need all the help we can get.’
Alejandro finished the call and hung up. Snatching the towel from around his neck, he dropped it and padded naked to his dressing room. His signature grey suits, black shirts and bespoke pinstripe ties were within easy reach. Selecting a charcoal suit, he dressed with military efficiency, and was heading out of the door fifteen minutes later.
The drive to the Loop, the financial heart of Chicago, took less than ten minutes. The early hour meant very little traffic and Alejandro gained marginal satisfaction from letting the engine of his Bugatti Veyron roar along the quiet streets.
But nothing could ease the iron-hard fist of unwelcome knowledge trapped in his gut. Nor the accompanying rage that mounted with each passing second.
He’d moved from Spain, the country of his birth, to California at the age of twenty-one, and then relocated to Chicago a year after that because he’d wanted nothing to do with his family. The move from Spain had been to remove himself as soon as it was legally possible from the volatile quagmire that was his parents’ sham of a marriage. Alejandro had put several thousand miles between himself and the two individuals biology had used to create him, and never looked back. Little did he know he’d been placing himself within touching distance of another powder keg in the form of his half-brother.
Gael Aguilar.
He was half of the equation that had worsened the acrimony in Alejandro’s life over two decades ago. Gael and his mother had put faces on the hitherto faceless monsters that were his father’s indiscretions.