Chapter 4
Alexander
My eyes opened to the daylight, my body humming with a deep, satisfying relaxation. All thanks to last night's marathon with Miss Anonymous. The confirmation message I’d sent her was still on my screen, and it made me grin. I played my fingers through my ruffled hair.
She’s exclusively mine.An antidote.
An expensive one, yet utterly worthy. Having her constantly available, anytime, anyhow, without the imprint of another man… I nodded, dropping my legs into my slippers. A year of her particular satisfaction might finally rid me of this impossible high libido—a poison fed to me by a rival at a business conference, designed to destroy my public image. The effect should have made me assault a cleaner, but fighting the compulsion left me incurable:
sex-addicted.
Even skipping sex when it urge arises would leave me numb and dysfunctional for life.
I sighed at the reality I’d learned to brace without anyone knowing my struggle.
A slow, smug smile spread across my face as I recalled how I’d taken her from behind the night before.
My phone buzzed, my PA disrupting the peace I was dwelling in.
“Boss, will you be available at the gala tonight?”
“Yes,” I responded, my voice still rough with sleep. “Longhill Drives has made another massive win. I’ll be there.”
I pulled on my sweatpants and selected a black tuxedo for later. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I smirked. “Damn, I’m handsome.”
*
The gala was in full swing. Chandeliers hung like constellations, adding glamour to the top-tier venue. Wines of various rich tastes and foods from different cuisines were laid out in abundance.
I strode down the red carpet, my demeanor cool, bossy, and fierce. Heads turned, a regular occurrence. I was called to the podium where an award awaited; my latest ride, the Pijo Runner, had been tested and confirmed to surpass all its predecessors.
“Would you like to say something?” the announcer asked.
I nodded, clicking my microphone. “Hazel,” I called out, my tone deceptively nice. She was the model who’d put the Pijo Runner in the limelight and the brilliant engineer who designed its engine.
I spotted her easily in the crowd. She walked up to me, confidence radiating, her head held high. She was the epitome of beauty, a first-class model in every way. She held her palm delicately. With a close stare at her face, I smirked.
The daughter of Don Paul Darks, the man behind my uncontrollable desire for sex.
He deserves some empathy, I thought, the man who had languished in a cell for three years by my doing. He should smell freedom now that I’ve found someone to hold my desire.
Within a year, Miss Anonymous’s strength will have this poison totally out of my system.
Standing before me, she raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrow in question.
“Will you marry me?” I asked. My tone was sweet, calm, and soft, yet it carried the unshakable knowledge that she couldn’t say no.
No woman in her position would.
A shockwave of gasps rippled through the crowd. I had never kept a woman by my side, leading to high-profile rumors about my preferences.
This was my answer.
“Yes!” Hazel breathed, tears of joy sparkling in her eyes as she nodded.
She offered her hand, expecting a ring. I just pocketed mine. I hadn’t brought one. I hadn’t even remembered it would be needed.
“It’s fine,” she joked, her professionalism impeccable as she clung to my arm. “We’ll shop for one later.”
We strode away to the car. Marrying Hazel was my solution, a public statement on my sexual orientation and a twisted reward for her loyalty and hard work in building my company while her father sat in a jail cell I’d provided.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling away slightly once we were inside the car.
“I should be thanking you,” I replied with a practiced smile.
As I watched her settle into the seat, my mind drifted, unbidden, to Miss Anonymous. Aside from being a mistress, who else is she? I wondered.