Alexa glanced at the paperweight a former auctionee had sent her. A bit cheesy in the shape of a graduation hat, it read in cursive letters, “I’m sharing this with you. Thank you.” She scooped it from the desk and squeezed the keepsake, feeling the cold weight on her palm.
Michele had been a grad student who needed cash badly to finish university. She’d come to Alexa, and during her first interview all but begged for an opportunity. While this behavior usually put her off, Alexa had made an exception and chosen Michele to be her virgin. Michele had made a lot of money, had finished her dream course, and had even put some money down for a condo.
Alexa had been elated for Michele’s victories. Her story wasn’t the exception. Throughout the years, House of Alexa had sent many women to college or higher education and had helped them make their dreams come true. At least, she’d given them financial independence and security. A couple of auctionees had even married the men who had bid on them. Yep. Pretty Woman on acid. Amaya and Abby both were still happily married. One to a Greek billionaire, and the other to an African king. Of course, the world didn’t know how they’d met their husbands—and Alexa did everything in her power to ensure no one ever would.
Alexa slumped her shoulders, the memory of Pamela sneaking into her mind. Somehow, Pamela had entered her building and not come out of it alive. If this information leaked out, she’d have to close her business earlier than intended. Her name would be in the news, not just in the variety section of men’s magazines. The media would destroy her, and in the process, find out her true identity.
Fear knotted inside her. Her stepfather would find out about her existence, and the fact he was behind bars didn’t soothe her at all. She didn’t want to live in a world where people could link the two of them together. She’d never escape her past.
“Alexa,” said the male baritone she’d come to recognize, making her heart race.
She swiveled her chair to face Brooks wearing a black top and denim jeans. Though his damp hair hinted at a recent shower, the rings under his eyes told her he hadn’t gotten much sleep himself. “Have a seat,” she said.
He shortened the gap between them but didn’t sit, choosing to pace the Persian rug instead. “I can’t. I’m too riled up. Where’s your assistant?”
“She’ll be right back. I told her to fetch her files. She’s up to speed.”
“Good.”
She rubbed the back of her neck, uneasiness creeping under her skin. “How are you?” she asked in a small voice, giving him a once-over.
He rubbed his eyes, then ran his fingers down his face and yawned. “Not good. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Listen, Brooks, we’ll do whatever we can to help you,” she said, fighting the impulse to walk up to him and give him a hug. Whoa. Where did that come from? First the small talk, and now this? She bit her lip to keep from saying something she’d regret.
“Thanks.” He inclined his head, then flashed her a look of appreciation. “I will find out what happened. That’s my promise to Pamela, and I’ll honor it. But something is getting in the way of my thoughts and common sense.”
She swallowed.
He leaned onto the desk, splaying his hands on either side. “You,” he said, the accusatory tone evident in his whisper.
She shifted in her chair, searching for the right position to handle the situation, her heart leaping up her throat. A wave of heat washed over her, and she sucked in a deep breath, the need for him turning into an ache. What to say?
“Last night after we fucked I was still so turned on, I checked into my hotel and masturbated twice, but still couldn’t sleep.”
She licked her dry lips. A sensuous light passed between them, and her heart turned over in agreement.
“I’m done screwing you one moment, then worrying about where we stand the next. I need a clear head to deal with everything that’s coming my way,” he said. “So I propose while we look into what happened and you go through with Scott’s auction, let’s keep having sex so we can work together knowing there will be some release at the end of the day.”
She stared at him, his eyes seductive and soulful. His confession clawed its way down her throat and clutched her heart, releasing a powerful rush of blood through her, revving her up inside. An affair with him could leave her hurt later, yes, but denying herself the affair messed with her brain now. “Okay.”
“Can’t hear you.”
“Fine. We’ll keep this going while you’re in Nevada.” Wasn’t she leaving as well? Maybe after she left, her memories of him would fade as she dove head first into perfecting her Spanish and assuming a new identity—using her time and wealth to help women across the globe. Women who would have no idea about the person she used to be and wouldn’t judge her.
A small smile curled his lips, and he inched closer. “Good.”
His gaze slid to her lips, anticipation filling her like air in a balloon. She angled her head, parting her mouth, ready to seal the deal with a scorching kiss.
“Excuse me.” Jackie coughed behind them.
Brooks pulled back, stood upright, and turned to meet Jackie, who had a faint red shade on her cheeks.
Alexa bit back a smile; her assistant had never seen her with a man. Thankfully, Jackie straightened her shoulders and maintained her composure, sitting across from Alexa with a folder on her lap. “What do you have?” Alexa asked.
Jackie opened the folder and handed Alexa a sheet of paper. “I’ve printed a list with names from the outsourced employees from the catering company and the security firm.” She glanced at Brooks, explaining, “They’re all required to sign in when they enter the building, for confidentiality reasons.”
Brooks finally sat next to Jackie, and
