Chapter 1
Online dating.That’s what it’s come down to.
Crystal Fox glanced at the virtual offering of men on the sleek screen. At twenty-eight years old, she expected to have at least a steady boyfriend by now. She didn’t need a white picket fence bungalow in the suburbs with 2.5 children. A sensible boyfriend who looked good enough to be her date for the upcoming high school ten-year reunion would fit the bill.
Of course she had one until about a year ago, when her ex Davey, the Greyhound bus driver, met another woman in St. Louis. She bet he only kept her around for two years to have a place where he could send his mail—besides free rent. The jerk.
She skimmed the guys smiling at her. She usually kept the ones with a picture of a dog, and passed on the ones without a shirt or with a kid in the picture. She was fine with them pimping their pets online to get dates, but the poor children deserved better.
She fixed her glasses, wishing she didn’t have to work. She could totally deal with taking the rest of the day off, but no, even though it was Friday, she had to stay and wait until her hot Brazilian boss left.
Lucas Grande worked all hours in his quest to buy companies in a sucky state to fix them up and profit later. He was like a corporate fixer upper, except a multi-millionaire one. Sexy as sin. Not that she cared—her girly parts took notice of him, obviously, but in the two years she’d worked for him, she’d seen all kinds of women move in and out of his life like a revolving door. That alone served as an efficient reality check.
She’d already had to deal with Davey’s womanizing ways. Besides, at five-foot-nine and with an hourglass figure she preferred to keep hidden, she doubted she was Lucas’s type. For some reason, he always favored petite, small, super skinny girls that could fit into his pocket like some kind of human gadget.
If the salary didn’t surpass what any other company would pay her, she’d have split the first time he asked her to do something douchey like send flowers to a woman he dated. Why didn’t he send his own damn flowers? Yet, she needed the job and the financial security it gave her.
“Crystal?” his deep cultured voice sounded through the intercom.
“Yes, Lucas?” she asked. About a year ago, he’d begged her to drop the formality and she finally agreed.
“Can you please get me the UPS envelope at the reception desk? It’s urgent.”
“Of course.” She stood at her feet, and walked up to the elevator, riding all fifty floors until she arrived. Walter, a day too late for his retirement, nodded at her, and perhaps anticipating why she was there, handed her the envelope.
“Boss man couldn’t wait until Aaron did his runs huh?” he said, mentioning the intern who usually took important documents from couriers to the top executives in the building.
“Nope.” She gave him a close-lipped smile, took the envelope and soon, was back at her floor, walking to her desk.
She gave his door a light knock, then entered his office without waiting for his reply. The enormous space was furnished with the best looking Scandinavian furniture and large art decorated the walls, yet the best part was the breathtaking view of New York City. “Here you go,” she said.
Lucas stood, towering over her. He dwarfed her, something not easy to do. At six-foot-three, he was an excellent representative of his kind—like seriously, if humanity ran out of good genes, he’d be personally contacted by whoever was in charge to donate his semen and perpetuate the population with his striking looks.
Lucas had the tall shoulders and wide chest of a man who had a passion for rowing on his free time. The way his body adjusted to the designer label suits he wore left no doubt, he had a six-pack under all that expensive fabric. Okay, maybe a nine pack—or a twelve. Was that a thing, anyway? Twelve pack?
“Crystal,” he said in that dangerously erotic accent. When she started working for him, she had to switch underwear in the middle of the shift. Nowadays, she’d become more used to it… but certainly understood why he cast a spell on so many women. “Have a seat.”
She sat on the chair opposite his, and crossed her legs. She didn’t have to—she wore loose black wool pants, and not a sexy pencil skirt.
After sitting again, he glanced at her with those expressive brown eyes. “I have something under wraps. There’s this resort I’m thinking about buying in Brazil. It’s been in business for five years, but instead of making a profit it’s always in the red despite decent occupancy rates.”
“Interesting.”
“I’m checking out the place, but this time, I don’t want anyone to know my purpose. I know the owner, too. I’ll stay as a guest to take a look objectively at first to see if it’s even worth buying before rumors begin.”
“Sounds good.”
“Great.” He rocked back in his chair. “You’re coming with me to a resort near Recife.”
She slid to the edge of the chair. “Recife, as in Recife, Brazil?”
“Yes. In a couple of days.”
“Oh.” She had traveled with him for business, but usually in United States and just once to Canada. She’d gone to São Paulo a few times, but those trips were scheduled ahead of time. With high-speed internet, she could work from the office and get whatever he needed via email.
“Why do you need me? I mean, I don’t speak the language,” she said truthfully. She’d mastered the basic greetings, and luckily in São Paulo most business people she dealt with in the trips spoke English. She remembered seeing Recife on the map, the city located thousands of miles from São Paulo, and on the coast. Images of sandy beaches and glowing rays of sunshine flooded her mind.
He grabbed a pen from the holder and played with it in his long, tanned fingers. “Exactly. People know me over there. You’re a foreigner. You can tell me what it feels like for someone who’s an outsider. How many employees speak English and how fluent are they? I want to pinpoint the reason why this particular resort hasn’t taken off as it should. Of course you’ll be handsomely rewarded for your time.” He clicked the pen a few times, before putting it aside and starting to drum his fingers on the dark oak table.
