6. Alessandra
CHAPTER SIX
alessandra
Where the hell is it?
I flip over the cushions of the sofa for the third time, searching for my little compact wallet.
I’ve already called the grocery store, they said they couldn’t locate it.
I remember having it after my store run three days ago.
I hardly go anywhere, so where?—
“Fuck.” My eyes clamp shut as the cushion bounces off the floor in frustration.
Our Place is the last building I want to step foot in today, especially since I’ve been working before the sun rose.
I’m not in the mood to speak to anyone, let alone have another run-in with Booth Sadler .
Every interaction with him has been confusing.
One second, I want to wipe his smug grin off his face, and the next, I want to…
not.
I’m seriously debating ordering a new set of cards and driver’s license when another email pings from my laptop.
My head snaps in its direction, curls getting caught in my lashes.
I swipe them away as I make my way over to the small dining table where I’ve been working all day.
Thanks to the time difference with our European offices, I was bombarded with last-minute requests to review proposals in the middle of the night.
I’d planned on giving them my feedback and responses until I got distracted by something I shouldn’t have.
Which seems to be the theme of this trip.
The time on the top right of the screen tells me it’s past nine at night.
The restaurant closes soon, so maybe the chance of seeing Dimples is low.
Weighing up the odds, I slip on my black boots, wrap a thick wool scarf around my neck to keep my hair contained, and throw on my coat.
Cold wind nips at my skin and I almost lose my footing on the slick sidewalk.
There’s been no fresh snow for days, and the ground is basically solid ice.
Taking each step with caution, it doubles the time to walk down the incline of Robin Road and to reach my destination.
The redbrick building stands out against the snow, and the navy blue paint glistens under the streetlamp, with its glossy white lobster sitting below the lettering.
I’ll be in and out in five minutes, max.
A blast of warm air fights away the cold.
Two sets of eyes dart my way.
Patrick from the other day, and a blonde woman who rounds the bar to greet me.
“Hey, I’m so sorry, we’re actually closing soon,” she says softly, smiling politely.
My smile doesn’t reach my eyes like hers.
“ I’m not here to eat. I think I left my wallet here last week.”
“Oh, sure, lemme check. We keep a log of all lost-and-found.” She returns to the bar, and I follow.
“It was on Thursday .” Turning , I point toward the table along the exposed brick wall.
“ Right over there.”
She pulls out a book and flips through the pages.
“ Hmm , I’m not seeing anything. Let me go check in the back. Wait here.”
As the minutes pass, I get more antsy.
The last table is closing their bill when the blonde comes back, steps hurried and with a different smile on her face.
This one is stiff, forced almost.
“Umm, would you mind coming to the office?” she asks.
“ I’m Johanna , by the way.”
“To the office?” My head tilts in question.
“Yeah, it’s, uh, policy. We have to verify it’s you.” She turns and shakes her head, muttering something under her breath.
It doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s happening, and despite my annoyance, I’m intrigued to see where this goes.
Rather than question her, she leads the way to the back of the restaurant.
We stop outside what I presume is the office.
Her hand hovers above the handle and she pins me with an apologetic look.
“ I really am sorry about this.”
“That sounds really ominous, you know that, right?”
Sighing, her head drop forward.
“ Yeah . I know.”
“Johanna”— I gently nudge her out of the way—“ I’m pretty sure I know what’s behind that door. Or who, for that matter.”
She winces, but there’s a quirk to her lips.
“ I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.”
“You know him well?” I unravel my scarf and unbutton my coat, handing them to her.
I’m not wearing anything special, just a pair of black skinny jeans, heeled boots, and an off-the-shoulder knitted sweater.
“Unfortunately. Why ?”
“Tell me something that’ll put me at an advantage. What’s his weakness?”
She chuckles.
“ I like you. What did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t.” I don’t mean for it to come out so bluntly.
Luckily , she doesn’t appear fazed.
“Touché. Well , he’s always the one making the moves—so I suggest playing him at his own game.” She winks at me.
“ About time someone did. Use that big fat ego of his against him.”
Without another word, I twist the handle and saunter into the small office with a confident stride.
As suspected, my eyes lock with a pair of blue ones, glittering with mischief.
Booth sits behind a large oak desk, hands tucked behind his head, wearing a lopsided grin.
He’s a good-looking man.
Very good looking. And he knows it.
Time to change tactics.
“Hello, Alessandra . ” The subtle purr in his voice should not send goose bumps rippling across my skin, nor have my tummy swooping low like I’m on a roller coaster.
Pushing the door shut with my butt, our gazes stay locked until we’re trapped inside.
My smile is sly, not wanting to give him the upper hand.
“I hadn’t expected to see you tonight. What a surprise.” My steps continue until I stand in front of the desk.
“A pleasant surprise or…” His arms drop to the desk and he leans forward.
“That’s yet to be determined.” I mirror his movement and place my palms on the cool, polished wood.
My sweater gapes open, giving him a direct view of my cleavage, and I give myself one point when his eyes fall to my chest.
We’re playing a reckless game of chess.
He thinks the game is set.
Little does he know the queen is the most powerful piece of them all.
He can make whatever moves he wants.
It won’t be him saying checkmate at the end.
“You have something of mine?” My voice is low, and with the tip of my finger, I trace the sharp edge of the desk as I stalk around it, stopping when I’m less than a foot away from him.
I mark another tally under my name when his face flashes in surprise .
Today, he’s in his chef uniform.
It’s annoying how well he pulls it off.
The short sleeves of the crisp white chef jacket cling to his biceps, displaying his bronzed skin.
The material around his torso and shoulders is baggy, but there’s no hiding his broad chest and tapered waist. Somehow , the black and red bandanna keeping his chestnut brown locks back makes him even more attractive.
He digs into the front pocket of his pants, widening his legs as he does, and holds up my wallet between two fingers.
“This?” He reaches between us, offering it to me.
Instead of taking it, I brush his hand aside and step between his open thighs, forcing him to look up at me.
This is the closest we’ve been.
From here, I see the muscles in his neck pulling taut as he swallows, the glistening of his lips when his tongue darts out, and the flare of desire across his features.
It’s pointless denying I’m attracted to him.
He’s a distraction I can’t tune out.
“Your license tells me you’re thirty.” He licks his lips.
“ Three years my senior. I happen to love older women.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
Bending at the waist, my curls drop, surrounding us in a curtain of dark swirls.
If I were to lean forward an inch, my lips would meet his.
It would be dangerous for so many reasons, and he’s none the wiser.
His chest rises and falls in quick succession, hot breath blowing through my hair.
This is becoming too fun.
And it needs to end before it goes too far.
“Are you going to kiss me, Silver ?” The hairs along my arms stand to attention at his cool, seductive tone.
“Do you want me to?” I whisper.
“ If you do, all you have to say is ‘please.’”
He raises his chin, our mouths now a hair’s breadth apart.
“ I don’t beg, baby. But I bet you’d look fucking stunning doing it. ”
My body betrays me.
Heat pools low and my nipples pucker.
But I still have the upper hand.
As if to taunt him one final time, my lips move to the right, ghosting over the spot I know his precious dimple hides.
“ If you expect me to get on my knees, you’re more deluded than I thought, Booth Sadler . This is a game you will not win. Believe me.”
I pluck the leather wallet from his grip and drag the corner down his smooth, defined jaw, triggering a shiver.
There’s an obvious bulge testing the confines of his pants.
My smile arches wickedly.
“ Better you give up now.”
His dilated pupils eat up his icy irises.
They draw me in, like a strong tide at midnight.
Everyone knows not to go swimming once it goes dark, so before I can get swept away, I withdraw.
He doesn’t move from his seat as I walk away.
The burn of his gaze follows me across the room to the door.
With a brief glance over my shoulder, my tone less playful, I give him a final warning.
“ Don’t underestimate me. I’m not some tourist you can pick up, play around with, and forget. There isn’t a game I haven’t won, and I have a feeling you won’t like it when I show my true colors. Forfeit now while you’re ahead. Please .”
That final syllable slips out, shaking the black and white board we’re playing on.
The pieces are tipping, dangerously close to resigning.
As I nod at Johanna on my way out of the restaurant after collecting my things, I can’t tell if it’s the king or the queen.