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Her betrayal had also allowed him to focus on other more important goals. Goals like achieving a level of wealth that would ensure he and his mother never experienced poverty again. Goals like avenging his father and opening the door for a return to his country.
And now the goal of becoming what David and Alexandra Waldsworth hadn’t believed him capable of—one of the denizens of New York’s elite.
His computer beeped. With a couple taps on the keyboard, the initial background review of one Alexandra Moss, née Waldsworth, was pulled up on his screen. Wayne Security had demonstrated once again why they deserved the outrageous retainer he paid them every year with an initial detailed ten-page report and a guarantee from its president, Joseph, that a full write-up would be delivered by midnight. The Flower Bell was indeed a licensed and insured business, although one that was barely scraping by. Alexandra was financially stretched to the breaking point, and that was with a business address in a rundown part of town and her personal address listed as a one-room flat behind a bookstore nearby. The rest of the report carried meager but telling details: her spotty employment history with various florists while working gig jobs like waitressing or walking dogs, her graduation from a community college instead of Princeton.
Yes, Alexandra was definitely in trouble.
He looked down at the cream-colored papers in his hand, complete with a silver bell wrapped in flowers at the top. None of the possibilities of why Alexandra had chosen now to reenter his life had included her pitching her business for his upcoming Pearson Group client recruitment events.
Crawling back after discovering his wealth and status, maybe. Or some other nefarious scheme. But running a small business that was on the verge of collapsing? That possibility hadn’t been anywhere on his radar.
Anger stiffened the muscles in his neck. Did she really think he’d bail her out? It also brought up the question of how she’d found out what he and his executives were planning. He’d have to find out who talked. The mystery approach of generating interest in the Pearson Group had not been his first choice. But he had to give credit to the team he’d so meticulously put together. The enigmatic tactics, from select potential clients being sent invitations and a fifty-page packet on the investment options, corporate backgrounds of Pearson’s team and plans for the future, had netted him nearly one hundred of New York’s wealthiest residents for the brunch at the New York Public Library, with the five richest families also joining him for a week at his Hamptons house.
A house he had purchased partially for the incredible ocean view and private beach, and partially because it rivaled the home just a couple miles away where he had experienced the most intense pleasure and pain he’d ever known.
He dropped Alexandra’s proposal on his desk and glanced around the office with a critical eye. Three of the walls had been painted a grayish navy, sedate and refined, a pleasing backdrop for the mix of modern, geometric silver light fixtures and brown leather chairs seated in front of his desk.
His entire body had tightened when Alexandra had approached his desk, shoulders thrown back with confidence, hazel eyes glinting with determination. She’d had every reason to appear guilty, embarrassed, humiliated. Instead, she’d stood in front of him and delivered a surprisingly articulate and convincing argument for doing the flowers for his events.
He’d need to look into who had been so indiscreet as to let the details of those events slip. But, he acknowledged as he picked up the proposal again, Alexandra had certainly done her homework. Her prices were competitive, even cheap, her knowledge of flowers and the floral industry evident in the details she’d included in her write-up.
Not surprising, he thought with a reluctant twinge of admiration. He could still remember the first time he’d seen her: golden brown hair tucked under a straw hat; the curves of her young body clad in a bright yellow tank top and jean shorts as she’d pulled weeds from the base of a rose plant along one of the winding paths in the gardens. When she’d glanced at him over her shoulder with that sunny, sweet smile, he’d been lost.
But not anymore, he sternly reminded himself as he tossed the paper on his desk and stood, hardening his heart to the happy memories.
Memories and fairy tales, he thought as he moved to the glass wall of his office with purposeful strides and gazed down at the bustling streets of New York City.Aside from the incredible sex, none of it was real.
No, he’d made real progress after he’d accepted that Alexandra had used and discarded him. He’d graduated with his master’s degree in business, accrued his first million before he was thirty and now stood on the cusp of becoming a billionaire before he was thirty-five. If he played his cards right, the Pearson Group would become one of the premier investment firms on the East Coast.
He turned back toward his desk, the unique arrangement catching his eye. It was striking, and despite the person behind the proposal, she’d made a good pitch.
That he had the upper hand this time certainly didn’t hurt. In fact, he thought as he turned the possibility around in his mind, hiring Alexandra would serve two purposes. Adding a little extra class to the upcoming events, yes, but also showing her exactly what she had thrown away. He smiled as the plan formed, solidified in his mind. It would be even more satisfying to have the once high and mighty Alexandra Waldsworth working for him, following his every order as he wined and dined the kind of people she’d once shared dinners with. She had the gall to come to him for help after what she’d done to him—used him as her personal toy while whispering false words of love in response to his sharing a piece of his soul—so turnabout was fair play. While she struggled to maintain employment and make a go of what seemed like a rich girl’s fantasy, he would show her up close and personally everything he had achieved, from his multimillion-dollar firm to the numerous luxuries his money could now buy.
Not bad forjust a gardener.
He hit the button for Jessica’s line.
“Yes, Mr. Santos?”
“Reach out to Laura Jones and ask her to get three proposals for flowers for the upcoming events. Something similar to the proposal Miss Waldsworth left us.”
“Waldsworth, sir?”
“Miss Moss,” Grant corrected with gritted teeth. “I want the proposals by five p.m.”
“Yes, sir.”
He tapped a finger against the papers on his desk, his lips tilting up. This time he wouldn’t give Alexandra a single chance to hurt him again. From here on out, he would be in control.
CHAPTER THREE
ALEXANDRASTAREDMOROSELYinto her glass of red wine. The relaxing strains of jazz played against a backdrop of clinking glasses and hushed voices as customers milled around the shelves of The Story Keeper. A gentle spring rain tapped against the window. New Yorkers rushed by outside, umbrellas shielding their faces from the prying eyes of shoppers and diners ensconced in the warm interiors of the stores and restaurants lining one of Greenwich Village’s popular streets.
“What’s eating you?”
Alexandra took a long sip of wine as her stepbrother, Finn, dropped into the seat across from her. Hard to imagine the boy who ignored her existence as a teenager, unless he was mercilessly teasing her or ordering her about, had become her closest friend. Or that he would fall in love with a bookshop manager instead of a wealthy socialite.
Normally, she loved savoring a glass of red and flipping through a mystery book at her future sister-in-law’s bookstore. That it was a darkening, rainy evening should have made it perfect.
