Morgan Sleeping With A Wall Street Banker

1. Auflage 2013
ISBN: 978-1-4817-8875-5
Verlag: Author House
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 369 Seiten

A deadly blend of romance and suspense awaits readers in Marlene Morgan's latest psychological thriller portraying the intrigued of Wall Street connected to personal destruction, that is not of the financial nature usually associated with Wall Street.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Morgan, Marlene

Leseproben

CHAPTER 2 London—January 2009 (Three Years, Nine Months Earlier) When Jake walked into the main room at the Tate Modern, his attention focused on the woman at the other end of the room. She was talking animatedly with a host from the KBW accountancy firm. He observed how she talked but also listened attentively. She was dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a silk scarf draped on her arm, and when she laughed, her smile radiated throughout the room. As she meandered through the Tate’s collection of modern and contemporary art, Jake followed at a distance and noted the graceful way she moved and how elegant she looked as she went from room to room. Several rooms had been cordoned off for the KBW event. The firm had invited clients from a variety of business sectors. Jake did not take his eyes off her when she walked over to the buffet table. When she stopped close to where he was standing to place her glass on the table, her pose was attractive, and the sweet aroma of her perfume stirring his senses. As she leaned forward to put her empty glass on the tabletop, the silk scarf on her arm slipped off and fell to the floor. “Alice, your scarf.” Jake bent down, reached for the scarf, and handed it to her. He thought she faltered when he called her by name. He watched her gaze as it moved down to her identity badge, which read, “Alice Francis, Legal Counsel, International Gaming Limited ‘IG’,” and then engaged her with his eyes. “Thank you,” she said, composed once again. He held his hand out to greet her. “Jake Logan.” “I detect an American accent,” she said as she shook his hand. “Yes. I lived in New York and worked on Wall Street until three years ago when HK Bank transferred me to London temporarily.” Jake was disappointed when their host intervened, turning the conversation back to business while ushering them into the adjoining room for the presentation. “Fuck!” he said under his breath. He had missed his opportunity to ask her to join him for a drink later. Several attendees entered the room at the same time, forcing Jake and Alice in opposite directions. He saw her to his left. When his eyes engaged with hers, she blushed and looked away. He tried to focus on the fifteen-minute presentation but thoughts of her kept distracting him. He stole another glance at her. When the last speaker wished the audience a good evening, the people to his left stood up to leave. Jake turned, hoping to catch Alice’s attention, but the seat she had occupied at the end of the row was empty. When he spotted her in the crowd, she was making her way out of the room. He looked on, but he could not get around the people to his left or right to stop her from leaving. Just then, he looked down at the program in his hand. “Alice,” he whispered. Within seconds of the presentation closing, Alice rushed out of the Tate to the waiting taxi she had booked earlier. As she settled into the backseat, she reached into her bag for her BlackBerry. At the top of her work e-mails was an email from Jake. The message read, “Hey, Alice. I was pleased to meet you and would like to continue our conversation.” For a moment, she was astonished that Jake had gotten her e-mail address. Then she remembered that on the back of the event program, KBW had provided a list of all attendees and their business e-mail addresses. That he had contacted her excited Alice. Ditto, she thought, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes, curious as to whether a friendship might develop between Jake and her. To the outside world, Alice appeared to have followed her career as a lawyer at the expense of relationships. Internally, she was soul-searching, opening her mind to her true feelings. She yearned to find a loving relationship. March 2009 London (Ten Weeks Later) Alice and Jake’s first romantic meeting was on a cold evening in late March. It had snowed earlier in the week, but most of the snow had cleared. The morning and afternoon had been parts of one of those rare days in London when the gray sky gave way to a clear, bright blue. A few buds had started to appear on the bare trees. Spring was creeping in, and the days were getting longer, but winter had not let go at its appointed time. Although it had been a mild day, the evening was cold, and that presented a problem as Alice contemplated what to wear. How could she dress in a manner that would appeal to a man and yet allow her to stay warm? She eyed the array of clothes in her wardrobe carefully. It was too late to hit the shops. She sat down on her bed in despair. Then she spotted it—the perfect dress. She slipped on the black, sleeveless Armani and turned to face the mirror. The dress had a bubble hem and fell softly just above her knees. The top of the dress was cut in a slight racer back to reveal her slender, toned shoulders. The lace brocade fitted snugly on her shoulders and finished just above her breasts. She could not wear a bra with the dress. While it showed no bare cleavage, it left a male admirer with no doubt that the wearer had full, voluptuous breasts. Apart from the dress, the only other items Alice wore were a pair of black lace boy-cut panties and lace-top stockings. She completed her look with a pair of four-inch Prada pumps. Yes! For this occasion, less was more. She looked elegant but felt sexy. Earlier that day, Alice had sent Jake a text message asking if he had seen the movie There’s Something about Mary. She laughed to herself when he said that he had. She had teased him with a second text suggesting that he masturbate before their date so he could get sex off his mind and get to know her better. Wearing two more layers of clothing to keep the chill of the evening out, Alice arrived at Claridge’s Hotel. Standing outside, she thought about its history. Claridge’s was in the heart of Mayfair, placed perfectly for the city, the shopping districts, and leafy Hyde Park. It dated back to the first half of the nineteenth century. Alice had an interest in architecture and interior design, so she knew that the designer of Harrods had rebuilt Claridge’s from the ground up. In the latter part of the twentieth century, Claridge’s had updated its art deco heritage with a modern twist. The foyer had been revitalized with a modern art deco feel and a stunning Dale Chihuly chandelier. Alice entered the foyer, where stars, socialites, and the crowned heads of Europe had been kibitzing for more than a hundred years. She was fifteen minutes early for her date with Jake. She made her way to the bar. The bar’s original art deco features were complemented beautifully by a silver-leafed ceiling, a green glass chandelier, and red leather banquettes. Each round, shiny table was decorated with a single dark red rose. The bar played host to Mayfair’s socialites. Champagne and cocktails lined the tables. It was not that Alice did not know this world, but she had never been comfortable sitting in a bar alone. She went in search of a place to leave her coat. After checking her coat, she went to the ladies room and inspected her attire from head to toe. She was wearing an off-white peplum jacket over the dress, and her long, dark brown hair fell neatly over her shoulders. She picked up her clutch bag and the small, blue gift bag she was carrying and headed back to the foyer. Though usually bustling with live music, the foyer—a popular place to take afternoon tea or sip evening cocktails—was quiet tonight. She seated herself on a sofa and waited. Some time later, Alice looked at her watch; it was ten minutes after seven. Where was he? She disliked tardiness. Twenty-five minutes had passed since she had arrived. It did not matter that she had arrived fifteen minutes early; she was not pleased and did not discount the first fifteen minutes. She felt self-conscious that she had been sitting alone for twenty-five minutes. She surveyed the foyer discreetly to see if anyone had noticed. The bellboy was standing by, opening and closing the door as people entered the hotel. The man at reception seemed engrossed in paperwork. A few other people were also passing time in the foyer, but most of the noise emanated from the restaurant. Wentworth Club—Earlier that Day Jake had just finished the eighteenth hole on the recently modernized Wentworth Club West Course. He smiled. He had played well today. It was his first time on the West Course since the renovation had been completed. He had birdied the challenging par-five eighteenth hole. As he and the business associates with whom he had played that afternoon headed to the bar, he found himself thinking about his date with Alice. He was looking forward to spending time with her. The day was perfect—an afternoon playing golf followed by a date with a beautiful woman. By the time Jake had had drinks with his business associates, he was running late. The car he had booked was waiting outside. Wentworth Club was in Virginia Water, Surrey, on the southwestern fringes of London, not far from Windsor Castle. He had a distance to go, and he hoped traffic would not be too congested. Jake thought Wentworth Club was special. Leaving aside the privilege of treading in the footsteps of the game’s great players from the last eighty-five years, the world offered few more glorious natural settings for golf than...