When he was alone again, Alexander turned to his computer. Anyone who ran a multi-billion-dollar company had access to data the average American couldn’t possibly envision. If he’d wanted to, he could have ruined many a career. Only his moral code and a firm belief in his father’s core values kept him from abusing this power. Alexander entered Elizabeth Bennett’s name and address and waited impatiently for the background check to arrive in his inbox. It was unethical, but he couldn’t help himself. He took three phone calls and two dozen emails before he got the information he’d been lookingfor.
ElizabethBennett
Thirty-two yearsold
Born in Seattle, Washington to Avery and Mark Bennett, owners of BennettPharmaceuticals
Moved to Boston in 2009 and took a job with Carter, Pastack, and Hayes as a mid-levelaccountant
Promoted to senior accountant in2011
Bennett Pharmaceuticals was worth fifty million dollars and employed three thousand people. They held the patent on an anti-nausea drug for cancer patients, and they’d been in the news a few years ago for hiking the price of the drug more than500%.
Alexander scowled as he skimmed the news stories surrounding the company, including one scathing expose from an unnamed internalsource.
Why had Elizabeth left their employ? She’d started working there right out of Harvard and had stayed for six years, moving to Boston only a month after leaving her parents’ company. But she hadn’t taken her next job for two months afterthat.
Alexander could request a detailed report on Elizabeth, but he paused. Did he really want to learn about her through a file?No. He wanted to acquire his knowledge the old-fashioned way. From the womanherself.
Punching in the code for her building’s outer door, Elizabeth pushed inside, then practically collapsed into the hallway. She’d managed a four-mile run and a light weight workout at the Y today. Not bad for someone with an extra twenty pounds on her five-foot-six frame. But now the rain had soaked her to the bone, and her fingers were blue. She retrieved her mail and climbed the stairs to her apartment. At the front door, a small box wrapped in gold paper sat on the thin, beige welcome mat. She looked up and down the hall. No one was around. Retrieving the gift, she flipped over a small tag sticking up from the emerald greenribbon.
Fondly, AlexanderFairhaven
When had he come by? Or had he sent someone? A man as busy as he was wouldn’t have come himself. His driver maybe? Too cold to deal with whatever was in the box, she unlocked her door and tossed the package on the coffee table. She showered, changed into sweats, and curled up on her couch with River to watchLove Actually. Whenever she was in a rotten mood, that movie always seemed to do thetrick.
Absently, she toyed with the tag on the box from Alexander. Might as well see what Mr. Powerful-and-Handsome had sent her. She ripped through the paper, opened the box, and gaped. Inside rested a handwritten card and a metal tin of her favorite tea. She inhaled deeply, and the strong, floral scent calmed hernerves.
Elizabeth, my apologies for finishing the last of your tea and for not delivering this in person. Obligations will keep me in meetings all day. I would very much enjoy your company for coffee tomorrow morning. Perhaps 8 a.m. at Thinking Cup in the North End? If you decide to accept my invitation, kindly text me. My mobile number is on the card I left you. -Alexander
Elizabeth tossed the note on the couch, and River started playing withit.
What did Alexander think he was doing by inviting her for coffee? Men like him didn’t date women like her. That only happened in books, and she’d never been one to believe in fairy tales. She snorted. Whatever. She’d let him buy her coffee. But for now, she wanted a cup oftea.
The next morning, at precisely eight, Elizabeth ran into Thinking Cup. The rain was incessant today, and she couldn’t find her umbrella. Tossing the soaked newspaper she’d used as a substitute into the trash, she scanned the room. Handwritten menu boards lined the back of the shop. Conversation hung thick in the air, though all awareness of the din faded when she saw him. Alexander sat at a secluded corner table, a French Press pot on the table in front of him. The patrons around him stared and tittered, snapping surreptitious photos and whispering. He looked casual, unaffected, his phone in his hand and an untouched croissant on a plate. A smile broke out over his face when she approached. As he stood, he offered her his hand. “I wasn’t certain you’dcome.”
Elizabeth allowed his warmth to envelop herpalm.
“I didn’t have anything else to do this morning. My work schedule is a bit...light thesedays.”
Alexander frowned and pulled out a chair for her. “I’ll get you a coffee. A croissant as well? Or perhaps a breakfastsandwich?”
“All right.” She smiled shyly. “Bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich. Thankyou.”
“How do you take yourcoffee?”
“Black.”
“A woman after my own heart. Howrefreshing.”
Elizabeth watched him walk away. Everything about his gray suit whispered understated elegance, although his confidence was anything but subtle. His ass filled out the trousers nicely. Smiling at the barista, he asked about her morning, paid cash, and dropped a twenty in the tip jar. Elizabeth respected that. So few people took the time to be courteous to baristas, waiters, and shop clerks, but it was something Elizabeth’s father had instilled in her at an earlyage.
When Alexander returned to the table with another press pot and mug, she tried to return his smile, but couldn’t quite muster the emotion. This was a waste oftime.
“I have been thinking about you,” Alexandersaid.
“Why?”
His green eyes flashed with a dangerous glint. “Why not? I’m not allowed to think of an intelligent and beautifulwoman?”
