“Splendid, I think she’s perfect for you.”
“Hmm... She said that you said as much. She also said you convinced her that I’m not as scary as she thought I was. I must tell you that disappoints me. A little fear does an employee good.”
Victoria laughs, “Please, you aren’t nearly as ferocious as you want to be. I like her. I don’t want to hear about you being mean to her.”
“I am wounded you would think so terribly of me. I am never mean if you do not deserve it. The girl will survive.”
“She’s hardly a girl, Leo.”
The sly way she says it makes me wonder even as my body clenches in memory of all the ways Alexa was no girl. Her body was every inch that of a woman. Temper hot at how easily the thought of Alexa makes me want her sends the word out harsher than I intend. “True.”
“Hmm... after you have finally found the perfect replacement. I would have thought that would have settled your nerves. Any reason why you’re cranky you’d like to talk about?”
Absolutely not. “No, and you are quite aware there is no real replacement for you. Lunch at Tesoros in two weeks as usual?”
“I’ll be there.”
“See you then.” Why did Victoria tease me as if she knew about the hell I am going through? There is no way she could know. Alexa did not look like the tall, leggy blondes or have the hardened edges of the models I preferred. It wasn’t that I had a preference for blon
des, it was that I had a preference for the ones who knew all I wanted was their body, not their time or care. I also have a rule that women who worked for me are completely off limits. No pussy is worth the stress of dealing with the kind of drama a relationship like that would create.
My cell phone sounds. Checking it, it’s a text from Ebony. It’s a picture of her in bed, naked. Normally, I would be pleased with the way she is offering herself to me. Now all I can wonder is if she has once again gone under the knife. She has upgraded and downgraded her size twice in the three years I have known her.
While I do not appreciate fake breasts, with the women I have been with they are more common than sunny days in California. It does not mean I have stopped preferring the real thing. I blink and remember just how real Alexa’s breasts looked last night in the tight silky white shell below her blazer.
Another text comes through, my cock barely stirs at the sight of her creamy milk chocolate body with her fingers along the hairless slit of her pussy. Her body has brought me pleasure in the past, I know it well. I have no idea why it does not now. I toss my phone on my desk not bothering to respond.
The knock on my door is a welcome intrusion. “Come in.”
It’s Carol, she is carrying the package from Diego’s office. “This was here when I came in.”
I take it, “Your replacement starts Monday.” I ignore her wide smile as she asks if I want coffee, I nod.
Even though I know some of it from her last night, laid out before me it’s striking, Alexandra Clark has not had an easy life. There were the details on her mother, dead from ovarian cancer when Alexa was ten, one sister died a year later, and her father died from lung cancer only months after she turned twenty.
My childhood was bad. However, it did not come close to this. To have your whole world slowly ripped from you piece by piece. There were not many who could take these many blows and stay standing. Alexa had not simply kept standing she did it while accomplishing many things to be proud of.
I find the information on the books she mentioned writing. I have not read them. The reviews are excellent from respected newspapers, her sales are not bad, they are not great though either. While she only has three out the fourth has already received positive reviews ahead of its release in two months.
She writes under her full name Alexandra De Luca Clark. I wonder if it is the reason why she did not take her husband’s last name. Professionally, as a businessman who has worked hard to make a name for myself, I fully support a woman’s choice to keep her maiden name. After all, it was she, not her husband, who earned her place in her profession. Personally, it would outrage me if my woman did not take my name.
Excellent, no debts except the mortgage on her condo purchased two years ago. Interesting, she is the only one on the mortgage. Hmm...maybe her husband has debt that made it better for her to be on it alone. I consider digging into him only to discount it. Her personal bank accounts are healthy.
Reading further I see now where she inherited her strength. Her father was a foster child, born to Mexican illegals in the south side of Chicago. Alexander Clark started life as Alejandro Martinez. His parents were caught in an immigration raid and deported back to Mexico. He spent several years in the foster system before ending up with a family when he was thirteen. He was adopted a year later, becoming Alexander Raymond Martinez Clark.
There is a single paragraph on him, with one picture of him. It’s a screenshot from his Facebook page. I ignore the hot, tingling sensation at the back of my neck. Felix Maine, he looks older than thirty-four. Was this really the kind of man she went for?
He was skinny, tall, Hispanic with a thin mustache. Was Maine a Latin last name? There is nothing else in the file about him. Just a few short sentences. They met five years ago, married two years ago. Nothing on his previous position just the tech startup he had been at for a year. I stamp down the desire to know more about Felix Maine. Maine is not important, I have everything I need on Alexa. I close the file, it is done.
6
Alexa
I’m standing in front of my closet where I’ve been for the last ten minutes. Any minute now the perfect outfit will jump out of the closet at me. I can’t stop thinking about what Victoria said, Leo preferred women to dress like women. He liked women in skirts and dresses and hated pantsuits and slacks. Since I was already such a failure in all the other ways of what he thought a woman should look like the last thing I want is to fail at this too.
It might look like I have a huge selection of clothes, I don’t. I have several different sizes ranging from twelve to even a few eighteens. When my hand runs over the dress, I go still, this is it. I’ve loved this dress since I first bought it almost three years ago. It’s a long sleeve crepe sheath dress in deep chocolate with a boat neck that ends a few inches above the knee standing. I love how I feel in this dress, the way it clings without looking like it’s too tight to my body. I smile, it looks good on me. I slip on matching chocolate suede booties in a stacked heel. Not bad, not bad, at all.
While I’m waiting for my breakfast sandwich to be finished in the microwave, I catch my reflection in the door. For the first time in ages, I wish I wore makeup. The only makeup I own is mascara and three tubes of lipstick, all of it so old I’m sure it’s expired.