Charity’s smile lit up. “For you, Alex Drake, anytime, any place.” Not wanting to be rude, she said, “You too, Paco.”
As Alex roared with laughter, Paco gave her a droll look.
“I know you’ve got all sorts of magic brewing under that skirt, but unless you’ve grown a cock, it’s a polite pass for me.”
Wrapping Paco in a big hug, Charity said, “No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to satisfy all the people all the time.”
He waved her off with both hands. “You know me, Charity. I never mix business with pleasure.”
“For the love of God . . .” Her huff was exaggerated. “Can’t we for once forgo business?”
“Not today, Ms. Taylor.” Alex led both of them to the comfort of the seating area.
Paco frowned. “Taylor. The name of a thousand women. You know, this means the collective minds of greedy women everywhere have figured out you’re in the market for a certain Ms. Taylor?”
Ignoring the comment, Alex made his way to the bar, waving a bottle of Woodford Reserve their way. With their nods of approval, he poured three glasses.
“I don’t think they’ve put it all together. They just know women with that last name tend to . . . I don’t know, pique my interest.” He flashed a boyish grin and handed out the crystal lowballs. “I can’t help it. It’s a weakness. Hey, I’m entitled to one.”
Paco prolonged his eye roll. “Sure. Just one. And your little fixation didn’t start as a weakness. It’s your insane obsession that’s made it the weakest link. The last thing you need is a vulnerability—for yourself or DGI.”
Studying Charity, probably because she dropped her guard enough to reveal the curiosity in her eyes, Paco said, “I’m here to protect Alex. Even from himself.”
Charity nodded, understanding.
Paco shifted his gaze back to Alex. As it sometimes did, his tone turned somber. “Want me to take care of it?”
Trying to keep her eyes from widening too much, Charity looked down. Like how he took care of Monty? I thought Natasha was a see-you-next-Tuesday too, but that seems an extreme response to a pretentious kid.
Alex smiled, shaking his head. “Right. Like you could stop the gears of the giant Big Apple rumor mill. It’s out there, and it is what it is. And it brought me right into the greedy little mitts of Natasha. You know me. I can spot an opportunity a mile away, and this was too much fun to pass up. It distracted me from . . .”
He trailed off, and the men exchanged a look of understanding. Charity didn’t know what Alex was referring to, but she still gathered its importance.
Alex chuckled. “Besides, this one had fun written all over it.”
Charity’s outward curiosity couldn’t be helped, so Paco explained.
“This guy walks the shortest damn tightrope between two extremes. At one end, he’s overworked and irritated as shit. At the other, he’s bored senseless and desperate for a distraction. He hates vacations and hardly ever sleeps. I don’t care if you bang college kids, but I’m over all this next-level babysitting crap.”
Choking on his bourbon, Alex spoke through his coughs. “For the love of God, I did not have sex with that girl.”
Both Charity and Paco hit him with sarcasm, raising the bullshit flag with a series of squints, right, sarcastically drawn-out nods, and if you say so.
“I’m truly wounded that you two don’t trust me.” After donning a sad look and clasping his hands dramatically to his heart, Alex turned to Charity. “Well, at least you got the last laugh. Okay, I’ve kept you in suspense long enough. How about I have a little dinner delivered, and I’ll tell you both exactly what happened.”
Alex’s sly grin let them know his reputation just got ramped up a notch, in the most disturbing and diabolical way.
Seated with Paco and Alex in his office at an executive table worth more than an average car, Charity couldn’t believe they let her pick such a casual meal for delivery in the midst of the elegant setting. The three of them chowed down on the finest, most authentic Italian pizza, calamari, and handmade spumoni in the city as Alex laid out the play-by-play.
His words were a detailed, descriptive, and surprisingly PG-rated account of the fun he’d had with Natasha. Pointing his spoon at Charity before digging at the last of his ice cream, he asked, “Did she stiff you like I said she would?”
Her yup was matter-of-fact. Unimpressed, she said, “Threatened me too.”
Paco nodded. “That girl’s classy all the way.” Checking his watch, he added, “I’ve got to head out.”
Charity adored how Paco kissed her cheek. He had to do this with absolutely everyone. Make them feel important. But she let herself feel special in the moment, believing there was more heart behind his habitual gesture. “Is this where you change into skintight latex and search the city for damsels in distress?”
“Yes,” he said, kissing her other cheek to complete their farewell. “And it takes a whole lot of lube and baby powder to get in that sucker, but the look is totally worth it.” To Alex, he simply said, “Later,” before heading out.
Charity bit her lip, looking down at the leftovers.
“What?” Alex asked, a worried scowl creasing his forehead.
Embarrassed, she shook her head, hoping he’d let it go, but no such luck.
With an insistent glare, he said, “Go on, spit it out.”
Under his demanding gaze across a conference table of leftovers, it didn’t take much to pry the confession from her. “I hate wasting food. I know it’s tacky to ask—”
Alex raised a palm at her without a word, then stood up to step over to the bar. Returning with several reusable paper totes from a local upscale grocer and some Ziploc bags, he tossed Charity half his handful and kept the rest for himself.
As they each filled their bags, Alex started talking, almost to himself, sharing a few little-known facts that were unexpected and surprising.
“I hate waste—in any form. It’s the reason I’m good at what I do. I started this company with scraps. Other companies wanted to throw out so much stuff. Some even paid me to take their surplus. Long line cable. Electrical casings. Specialty nylon and engineering-grade plastics. Even office supplies. If I took stuff off their hands, they paid less in dumping fees.” His smile was half proud, half humble in a way that only Alex could pull off. “Nine out of ten new companies fail. I was always the last man standing. I got half a million dollars of startup inventory my first year.”
She quelled her wide eyes, shifting them to the task at hand. “At least we finished the spumoni. No soupy Ziplocs here.” Her banter was a weak disguise to hide just how awestruck she was at the man. She’d thought her hero worship couldn’t tick up any higher, and yet it had.
With his shirtsleeves still buttoned tight, Alex grabbed the unused napkins to wipe down the table himself. Charity at least tried to swipe the towels from him. At his playful snarl, she held her hands up in defeat, letting him assume the role of cleaning lady. Apparently, the man had no patience for a pecking order between them.
“I can’t believe you don’t have a cleaning crew.”
Apologetically, he blew out an eh under his breath, continuing to wipe away. “I abuse them on a regular basis. Lots of late-night meetings. I insisted they take off early today.”