Mr. Big Shot (Mr. Big 1)

So, I wasn't used to expensive men. I was only attending Columbia on scholarship and could never have afforded it on my own or based on my father's income or pension.

I paid the cabbie and then got out, standing in front, taking in the building with its impressive façade. Even the entry was gilded, shiny brass fixtures and glass. I didn’t belong there but had to admit it was fun to get the chance to go inside.

I took in a deep breath and opened the door, clutching my bag and wondering what kind of evening I’d have.

The interior of Cipriani’s ballroom was amazing. It was a huge venue with several large rooms used for meetings and receptions, as well as a restaurant and several bars. I had no idea where the terrace was, and in fact, had no idea that there were so many separate rooms, but the place was big. It looked like something you’d see in Italy. I went to the main bar in the ballroom and stood there, wondering where the terrace was. The venue was dim with sparkling lights that made the vaulted ceilings look like something out of Rome or Florence.

A tray of glasses sat on a linen-covered table. A small card at the bottom read “Bellini” which was a cocktail made with peach nectar and Prosecco – a sparkling wine like champagne. I took a glass and turned around to check out the crowd of people in the hall. I sipped the Bellini, enjoying the Italian cocktail’s sweetness.

I glanced down at myself, straightening my dress, checking that my jade Mala bead bracelet was on display, with my tree of life pendant. I wanted to watch to see if Mr. Big Shot 69 saw me and how he’d respond so I scanned the crowd.

Then, my cell dinged. A text.

I removed my cell from my bag and read it. Of course, it was from Candace.

CandyC: So, how’s it going? I’m dying of jealousy here…

Alexa: I’m here, Bellini in hand, waiting. No sign of Mr. Big Shot yet.

CandyC: Text me as soon as you can with all the gory details…

Alexa: I will.

I was going to put my cell back into my bag, but then I got another text and read it, thinking it was Candace, adding some snide or cheerleading comment.

Instead, it was MrBigShot69 himself. Luke Marshall. Cheating bastard with a huge fortune.

MrBigShot69: Come up to the terrace and meet me at the south end. I’ll be sitting at a table in the alcove so we can do some business before pleasure.

I swallowed hard at the pleasure part. He was the kind of man who might populate my sexual fantasies. Scratch that — he was the kind of man who most definitely populated my recent sexual fantasies, although he’d never be someone I’d want to get close to.

I sent him a text.

Lexi911: I’ll be there in five.

I drank down my Bellini for courage and then found the closest washroom so I could check myself over. I’d have to walk up to him while he watched, and I didn’t want anything between my teeth. Satisfied that I was as presentable as I could possibly get, I left the washroom and found a sign that gave directions to the terrace.

I took the huge marble stairs leading to the balcony, which was a narrow room with huge high windows overlooking Wall Street. Linen-covered tables lined the terrace and at the far end sat Mr. Big Shot himself, all alone. He was checking out his cellphone, and was sprawled on the chair, his legs spread like he owned the world. His dark bangs fell into his eyes in this really sexy way.

I took in a deep breath, and started to thread my way along the tables towards him, my heart beating a little faster.

Was I really going to do this?

I kept walking. I was really going to do this.

On his part, Mr. Big Shot was wearing some fashionable dark framed glasses and was dressed in a very sober black suit with a silky black tie and crisp white shirt. A red kerchief was tucked into his suit jacket pocket and I smiled to myself despite my nerves. It was his way of signaling who he was.

When he glanced up from his cell, I saw how gorgeous he was, even with the glasses. In fact, they made him even more gorgeous, because they gave him this air of nerd wrapped up in a very non-nerdy desirable package.

He removed his glasses when he saw me, tucking them in his pocket. Then, he stood, buttoning his jacket, blinking when our eyes met. Well, that was a good sign, right?

He stood straighter, a smile finally spreading on his lips. He looked pleased, at least.

When I arrived, he stepped closer to meet me, and bent down to kiss me softly on my cheek, one hand squeezing my arm.

“Lexi, I presume,” he said, his voice deep and warm. He met my eyes and his smile seemed truly pleased.

“Alexandria, to be precise,” I replied firmly, trying hard to be professional when what I really felt was sick to my stomach. “Apparently, that’s where I was conceived."