Her Unexpected Admirer
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Authors: Elizabeth Lennox
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #General
Her Unexpected Admirer
By Elizabeth Lennox
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Copyright 2014
ISBN13: 9781940134574
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited unless you have the direct consent of the author.
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Table of Contents
Excerpt from Her Tender Tyrant, Book 5 in The Alfieri Saga
List of Elizabeth Lennox Books
Fifteen minutes, Davis told himself. Show up, pretend to look and get out. He glanced at his watch, noting the time of arrival and mentally anticipating his departure time even before he walked into the studio. Damn, he truly disliked art and all the pretensions that went along with it. Davis considered paintings and sculpture to be a monumental waste of time. Why people needed something to decorate their walls was a mystery to him. His decorator, an irritating woman with too many teeth, had insisted on “investment pieces”. So there were some ridiculous “art works” decorating his walls that had cost him a stupid amount of money. He’d acquiesced on the purchases simply because he knew that they would have a good return when he sold them.
Yep, he thought as he stepped into the crowded art gallery, white walls, a lot of people oohing and ahhing about art that….Davis’ eyes glanced at the first painting and his mind stopped functioning. All the disparaging comments he’d been about to think just left his mind as he took in the spectacular colors and shapes in front of him. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was viewing, but the colors…the vivid symbols that formed images in his mind that were almost…erotic! “Stunning” came to mind and stuck. He couldn’t think of anything else to describe these paintings. They weren’t traditional paintings with a subject and background. If he had to put words to what he was thinking, he would say they were sort of flashes of something, images…or maybe feelings? He wasn’t exactly sure. It looked both chaotic and yet, still organized into one feeling. Damn! It was a stimulating sensation and, just staring at the canvas, he felt his body respond, felt his pulse pound in his head and beat throughout his body.
He’d never had a physical reaction to a painting before but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the first one. He wanted to stare at it, to figure out all the details and organize them in his mind but still just enjoy the entire experience.
As he stared, he realized that he didn’t just want this painting. He had to have it. He glanced down at the description and noticed no red dot indicating that the painting had been sold then turned to find the salesperson. He was determined to have that painting. But as he surveyed the room, his eyes caught on another painting, this one more relaxing but still causing a physical reaction in him. This one was almost serene with flashes of sunshine, flowers and…a rainbow? The artist was in an extremely happy mood when he or she painted this one and he actually felt a smile form on his face. Again, this was a painting he was determined to have. He already knew the artwork he was going to rip off of his walls so that he could put this one in its place.
Looking again, he caught another painting and his mood actually turned angry. Flashes of darkness, anguish and fury. The colors were shadier, somehow almost dangerous. He moved silently throughout the gallery, taking in each picture, each feeling and enjoying the crash of emotions that swelled up within him as he looked at each one in turn. His mind was already contemplating building an addition to his house, needing more space, a blank space with white walls just like this room with comfortable chairs in the center so he could easily move from one chair to the next, and one emotion after another.
“See anything you like?” A sophisticated woman with short, black hair and so much eye makeup, she almost looked like a raccoon sidled up to Davis, her eyes taking in all of him. She was painfully thin and her anorexic body was enhanced by the tightest dress he’d ever seen. “How many of them have been bought?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual because of all the emotions ripping through him. If his brothers and sister were here, they would laugh themselves silly because he was one of the least emotional of all of his siblings. Of the five of them, he was the most logical, the one that refused to let any sort of emotion cloud his judgment. He liked logic and common sense. He preferred analyzing life and figuring out the best path. It was how he’d created his empire, his brain understanding chemistry and how the world was created. He could look across a piece of land and could know exactly where to drill for oil. And he’d come up with a perfect way to capture that oil, improving the efficiency and capture rate of the product so the environment was safer.
But not only oil, he had just recently purchased the largest solar array in North America. He was experimenting with the chemical makeup of the solar glass, wanting to make even that more efficient. The earth was going to run out of fossil fuels very quickly and he was determined to introduce a new way to harvest the sun’s energy, make solar energy available even to people who lived in cloudy environments. The solution was out there, it just took an understanding of chemistry, logic and patience, to figure out the solution.
The scary woman standing next to him – obviously offering up herself as well as the paintings – replied, “The showing just opened ten minutes ago. So at this point, all of them are available. Which are you interested in?” Normally, she would wheedle a bit of information out of interested parties, just to make sure they knew how much a particular painting cost. In most cases, the cost ranged in the tens of thousands of dollars for just one piece. Also, of course, she wanted to find out if they could afford the artwork. In this case, she had no concerns. This was Davis Alfieri, after all. Rumor had it that he could afford the moon if he wanted it. It was whispered that this tall, dark, handsome financial guru owned a palace in Saudi Arabia, a penthouse in London, New York and Tokyo and had a fabulous house in Atlanta. Obscene wealth and harsh, good looks, she thought, actually licking her lips. The two were rarely in one package.
Davis considered his answer and, for the first time in his life, made a decision based on emotion. On need instead of financial logic. “All of them,” he replied.
The woman’s body froze even while her eyes widened with surprise. “All of them?” she asked, almost whispering the words because she was so stunned.
“Every one of them,” he confirmed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her Cheshire cat smile start to form. “Yes, Mr. Alfieri,” she said, clearing her throat and becoming all business.
He wasn’t surprised that she knew who he was. Davis had been in the news a lot recently. He rarely did interviews, but somehow, the obnoxious paparazzi found him and photographed him. It wasn’t like he was a celebrity, he thought with resentment. He just knew how to make money and did it extremely well. All of his brothers had the same problem but the idiots seemed to be plaguing him more than usual lately.
“Where is the artist?” he demanded, looking around at the gallery to try and guess which one of the guests milling around was the artist.
The woman hesitated, looking up at him for a moment. “The only way I could convince this particular artist to show these works was to guarantee anonymity.”
Davis thought about that for a moment as he looked at the other paintings. There were twelve in all and he wanted every one of them in his various properties and offices around the world.
“I want more of them,” he stated firmly, even shocking himself at that statement, but as he said it, he knew it was true. He wanted more. He wanted to surround himself with this art. “Tell me about the artist,” he demanded.
“To what do you owe your phenomenal success?” the reporter asked, sending her “sexy” smile his way.
Davis Alfieri refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. He suspected that reporters shared a list of questions they asked, because none of them ever came up with an original one. And since none of them asked him a new question, he didn’t even try to come up with a unique answer. He spouted the same thing he said to every reporter who had asked him this question over the years. “Success is not an accident. It is waking up every day, determined to get something done.”
He could see the disappointment in her pretty eyes but Davis didn’t care. He did these tedious interviews recently simply because his public relations director arranged them, explaining that the public wanted to know about him. If he would just give some information to people, the paparazzi might back off.
Her reasoning made sense on some level. But as soon as he finished with this one, he was calling her up and telling her in no uncertain terms that he was finished with interviews. She could figure out some other way to get the paparazzi to leave him alone as well as get good PR for DA International. He was finished with the dog and pony shows. He had better things to do with his time.
“You’ve grown your daily achievements into a multi-billion dollar corporation that spans across the globe. Surely there is something more to your success than simply having a to-do list.”
He smiled slightly, hiding his irritation. “Find something someone needs, and fill that need. It isn’t a difficult formula, Ms. Willis.”
She started to say something else but his phone buzzed. “Excuse me,” he said and stood up, taking the call. He was completely unconcerned with being rude. He was disgusted with her lack of creativity in her questions and ready to move on. He had a busy day and she was flirting, which irritated him even further.
“Davis, Jeff here,” the caller said. “Sorry to disturb you but I need a few minutes of your time.”
“What’s up?” he demanded. Jeff was his personal lawyer and a good man. If he was calling about something, Davis knew that it was important.
“It could be nothing. Where can I meet you?”
Davis glanced at his watch. “I’m in Boston right now. I can be back in town…”
“I’m at your hotel.”
Davis stopped, his mind instantly going into overdrive. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He ended the call without saying goodbye. Turning to the reporter, he nodded succinctly. “Something has come up. I’m sorry to cut this short,” he lied, “but contact my PR director and she’ll give you any other information you need for your article.”
The woman stood up as well, her mouth hanging open in shock. “But I thought we could get a drink afterwards,” she explained weakly, but pasted a smile on her face, sending him the silent message that she’d give him more than a drink if he simply asked.
Davis quickly shook his head. “Another time, perhaps.” A moment later, he walked out, the reporter completely dismissed.
Stepping into the long, black vehicle, he snapped instructions to his driver. “Back to the hotel, Jimmy.”
The car pulled smoothly away from the curb, powering down the highway. Fifteen minutes after the phone call, Davis walked into the lobby of the hotel. With a quick glance around, he spotted Jeff standing by a wall.
“This way,” he commanded, knowing that his lawyer would follow.
They found a table in the corner, a bit darker than the rest of the area but more private. “Okay, what’s going on?” Davis asked, sitting across from the older man.
Jeff took out several papers and laid them on the table. He was just about to speak when the waitress arrived. “Nothing for me,” Jeff said.
“He’ll have a scotch and I’ll have bourbon,” he told the waitress, ignoring his lawyer’s statement. Jeff needed to relax. He was wound up pretty tight at the moment.
The waitress left to get their order, instinctively knowing that they wanted privacy more than the drinks.
“Okay, keep in mind that I’m not an accountant. I don’t know numbers very well so this might be nothing.”
Davis nodded abruptly. “Understood. Just lay it out for me.”
Jeff was still nervous, but he shuffled the papers. “Here,” he said, pointing to a column of numbers. “You told me that this shipment here was supposed to be twenty point two million dollars. I prepared the contracts for that amount. But when I looked them up on the papers you sent me, the number is nineteen point six.”
Davis scanned through the information, his mind quickly calculating the complex column of data. It was worse than Davis realized. Several of the other numbers were off. “This shipment was six months ago,” he stated, his fury rising as he studied the other numbers.
“Exactly,” Jeff said, feeling better now that he knew that he wasn’t completely off the mark. He had several clients but Davis Alfieri was the biggest by a huge margin. He was also the most terrifying. Davis Alfieri was rumored to be harsh under the best of circumstances, demanding and uncompromising. Which was probably why he had achieved so much at such a young age.
“Thanks for bringing this to me,” he said to Jeff. They chatted about other issues, but Jeff knew that, behind the calm façade, Davis Alfieri’s mind was working, thinking, plotting. The man was a genius and possibly the scariest man Jeff had ever come across. Whoever had stolen money from Davis Alfieri should be scared. Very scared. Because if there was one thing Jeff knew extremely well, having been Davis’ lawyer for the past several years, it was that he was merciless. He would crush the person or persons who had done this and, after they got out of prison, they would never work in industry again. They would be lucky to get a job as a cook at a fast food restaurant.
“I’d better get to the airport,” Jeff finally said, enjoying the last sip of the extraordinary scotch. It was the smoothest scotch he’d ever had, except for the last time he’d had a meeting with Davis Alfieri. That was one thing about the man, he always had the best. The best cars, the best houses, the best food…Davis was an extremely wealthy man and he demanded the best. Even in his businesses, he only hired the best and if one didn’t meet up to his exacting standards, that person was gone.
“I’ll have my driver take you. Jimmy can get you there in half the time,” he said, lifting his hand towards one of his body guards.
Jeff stood up, grateful for the help. It would be exciting to arrive in such style. “Sounds great,” he said and followed the man out of the bar.
Davis sat in the dark corner, ignoring the other patrons as the room slowly filled up. As someone started playing a piano in the corner, the waitress came to provide a fresh glass of bourbon and Davis worked through a plan.