The Suite Life (7 page)

They must be tourists.

Alec leaned in to me as we approached the door. “You're the star in my life now,” he whispered, and I broke out in a jumbo smile that remained plastered to my face all the way to our box and throughout the musical. You could count on one hand the number of times I'd been to a Broadway play or Radio City Music Hall, and this evening was truly magical for me. After the curtain came down the adrenaline was still flowing as we climbed back into the limo, which was waiting at the curb.

“Unbelievable, Alec,” I gushed.

“Trust me—supper at Le Cirque will not be an anticlimax.”

All I can say is that Alec was right again. The elegance of the room, the deferential treatment we received, and the superb food and wines that he once again ordered for both of us were light-years beyond anything I'd ever experienced before.

Back in the limo, Alec hit the
PLAY
button and pulled me close. I rested my head on his massive shoulder, closed my eyes, and felt his whole body relax as we once again listened to Stephen Bishop:

All of my life

It's you, it's you I've been waiting for all of my life

“You're the best, Sam,” he said, breathing heavily as he kissed my hair.

A whirlwind week was followed by a whirlwind July and early August. It was as if Alec were some kind of fairy-tale prince who had ridden into my life on a white stallion, pulled me up beside him with his big, strong arms, and snatched me from the mundane daily grind that had been my life for so many years. I certainly hadn't been seeking or expecting rescue, but I can't say that I wasn't relishing every minute of it. We were together until the wee hours almost every night, and all day on weekends. He took me not only to the finest restaurants but also to art gallery openings, jazz performances, and baseball games, which we viewed from a private box. He even managed to extract me from my office cubicle for a couple of lunches each week. What I cherished most of all, however, were our long walks in Central Park after we'd visited the Guggenheim or the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and his phone calls every day when I was at work and every night when I was at home, even if he had just dropped me off.

I had to practically drag myself out of bed to get to work after one of those endless evenings, but Alec never seemed to be affected by the pace we were keeping. On the contrary, he seemed to thrive on acting as my teacher and guide. More than
once I wondered what my mother, who didn't know a brioche from a bagel, would have thought about the life of pure indulgence I was leading, thanks to my white knight.

He was introducing me to many of his super-rich, high-flying friends, and I couldn't help but worry that I had neither the clothes nor the background to be traveling in such rarefied circles. Alec solved the first problem a couple of weeks into our relationship by sending me on a no-holds-barred shopping spree. But more important, I continued to remind myself that it was
me
he had chosen when he could surely have had any girl he wanted.
No matter what happened, I fully intended to remain true to myself. I was still the edgy girl from Brooklyn who had raised her fists in defiance of the short haircut with curls that her drug-addled mother had forced upon her at twelve years of age. I wanted Alec's friends to like me, but they needed to like
me,
not some phony façade I put up in order to fit in.

After a while my friend John began to complain, albeit politely, that I hardly ever rode to work with him anymore and that we hardly talked on the phone the way we used to. But whenever we did talk he also was anxious to know all about what I'd been doing. I could also tell that Priti, who was certainly vicariously enjoying every minute of my new life, was also a bit annoyed that we almost never went to noon Mass together or ate lunch on our favorite bench anymore. I certainly didn't want to hurt either one of them, but, truthfully, I was so swept up by the whirlwind of Alec's courtship that I couldn't really think about much else.

In the office, I could barely keep my mind on my work. The distractions that came with my new dashing, powerful, and considerate boyfriend would have made a member of the Queen's Guard at Buckingham Palace desert his post. My mind was filled with recollections of past dates and wonderings about what was to come, and I automatically checked the light on my
extension first thing each morning and whenever I returned to my desk, regardless of how long I had been away. Each time I settled into my desk chair, I vowed to fight the loathing that had set in and the guilt that visited me when I deserted my own post with flights of fancy.

I'd never pretended to love my job as an executive assistant, but I'd always managed to deliver an above-average performance. After I met Alec, however, it would be a stretch to say I was earning a satisfactory rating. My boss, bless his soul, never said a word to me about my slacking off, but I still felt guilty about all the time I spent being absent in body and mind.

“So where is he taking you tonight?” Priti asked over the partition as I slipped into my cubicle.

“Don't have a clue, P.”

“I'm sure you will soon,” she said.

My phone rang and Priti did her level best to stifle a laugh as I picked up the receiver. “Ms. Bonti here.”

“I wish you were
here,
Sam,” Alec drawled.

“Me too.”

“Ready for some more fun later?”

Alec was always up for fun. He'd been positively childlike in his delight when he took me on a late-night helicopter ride mere hours before, and I must admit that just the memory made me feel like a kid on Christmas morning all over again. However, the boss's eyes burning into my back cut short the joy of that particular recollection. “I can't take a long lunch again today,” I whispered.

“Me neither. The merger I'm working on with Malchek is heating up,” he said, the excitement obvious in his voice. “But I plan to celebrate over dinner at Ariel's with some friends who've been dying to meet you.”

“I'm thrilled things are going forward, Alec, but I really can't talk now.”

“That's two
can't
s in less than a minute,” he said, sounding miffed. “In any case, I won't be able to pick you up until seven, so you can give that boss of yours a couple of extra hours.”

In our relationship so far, Alec had been the one in charge, but this was the first time I'd experienced for myself what it might be like for those who weren't willing to follow his lead, or had the audacity to contradict or cross him. His displeasure gave me a flash of discomfort, which dissipated as quickly as it came.

“An hour is all I could stand, Alec,” I said as sweetly as I could. “Pick me up outside Our Lady of Victory.”

“Say a prayer for me, will ya?”

Ariel's was a trendy Bay Ridge restaurant I'd been to a couple of times with Tony and the Brooklyn Boys, so at least I'd be on familiar ground for a change. It was a fine dining establishment that was both a destination for the upwardly mobile and a neighborhood hangout for local families.

Alec parked his Range Rover just past the front door. “Keep an eye on my ride, Dino,” he said, tossing his keys to the valet.

“Sure thing, Mr. DeMarco. Would you like us to give it a quick wash?”

“Knock yourself out,” Alec said. “I'll catch up with you later.”

The Brooklyn Boys had catered to Tony because they feared his power, but Alec's hold on others was different. They deferred to him out of respect and admiration. I'd experienced the glow of his approval for myself and knew what it felt like to fall under his spell.

As we entered the restaurant, the maître d' came forward to greet us. “Your guests are waiting for you, Mr. DeMarco,” he said, appreciatively eyeing me in my new linen sundress. “Right this way.”

“Thanks, Carlo,” Alec said as he took my hand. We made our way through the main dining room and out to a small patio in the back, where three couples were already seated at a large
round table. The three men, all dressed in expensive suits with dress shirts open at the neck, as was Alec, stopped chattering and rose from their iron chairs as we approached.

“Hey, guys,” Alec boomed, holding me close. “This is the gal I've been telling you about.”

“Ad nauseam,” the guy closest to us said, with a smile and nod toward the others, who laughed. He appeared to be a couple of years younger than Alec, with dirty-blond hair framing his handsome, tanned face. “No offense, Samantha,” he said as he shook my hand, “but Alec here never stops singing your praises. It's getting so bad there's not much work going on these days.”

“Sam, I'd like you to meet Victor Falco,” Alec said, cutting Victor short. “He's prone to exaggeration and if he doesn't behave himself I'll get his ass fired.” All the guys laughed then, their easy camaraderie making me feel right at home. “To Victor's right is his hot wife, Sofia,” Alec continued. Her perfectly coiffed, shoulder-length, jet-black hair was set off by a figure-hugging white blouse. Flawless makeup, perfectly manicured nails, and obviously expensive jewelry completed the picture of a pampered trophy wife.

“Nice to meet you, Samantha,” Sofia said, smiling thinly.

“Likewise, Sofia,” I said.

“Going around the table,” Alec said, “that's Jack and Patricia Bronson—no relation to Charles—Roger Haberstein, and Ellen Marbury.”

“Pleased to meet all of you,” I said.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Patricia said.

“We've got some catching up to do, Sam,” Alec said as he pulled out a chair for me and reached for the champagne bucket that was already on the table. He filled all our glasses, emptying the bottle, and motioned for the waiter to bring another. “And be warned,” he went on, “this crowd isn't shy about eating off your plate or draining your glass if you give them the opportunity.”

“Not so,” Patricia said. “Pay no attention to him.”

“I'm used to him by now, Patricia,” I replied.

“Call me Pat.”

I liked her right away. More understated and a bit older than the others, she wore her auburn hair in a Streisand bob. Her makeup was subtle, and the navy blazer with gold crest that she wore over a white boatneck T-shirt was smashing. Jack's eyes matched his wife's ice-blue ones, and I could picture him at the helm of a sailboat on Long Island Sound. The couple's self-assurance was immediately apparent, and I figured it had more to do with breeding than with age.

“You can't be used to Alec's appetite yet,” Ellen said as the new bottle of champagne arrived at our table. “We go back years,” she continued, smiling with her eyes fixed on him, “and I still can't keep up.”

“Who could?” Roger added.

“Certainly not you.” Victor chimed in to a chorus of laughter. “Try as you might.”

Alec rested a hand on mine, and I doubted I'd ever tire of that gesture. “I don't keep Roger close because of his prodigious appetite, Sam. It's his prodigious ability with numbers that makes him indispensable. Jack, on the other hand, can give me a run for my money when it comes to wine. I'm trying to get him to will his cellar to me.

Jack chuckled. “Not a chance, pal.”

I looked toward Ellen. “Have you and Roger been dating long?” I asked, and the men again erupted in laughter.

“Heavens, no,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“They're not together, Sam.” Alec smiled toward the two. “Just very good friends of mine.”

Well, they certainly look like a couple.
“Sorry,” I said, reaching for my champagne.

“No apology necessary,” Roger said.

Alec leaned in and whispered into my ear. “Ellen is a lesbian. Heaven forbid the NYSE finds out about that. We're a boys' club, Sam. But she runs a huge firm and makes so much money, no one will out her.”

“That's kinda sad that she can't say who she really is.”

“Yeah . . . when you're making millions, you tend to shut up.”

You mean you tend to live a fake life,
I thought to myself.

Alec waved the waiter over again. “I don't know about anyone else here, but I'm starved.”

“What a surprise! I'm shocked that it took you this long to order,” Victor said teasingly.

“Must be because he's on his best behavior this evening,” Roger said.

“Ol' Roger here is a closet comedian, Sam,” Alec said. “We're all getting bored with his old jokes, so he's always looking for a new audience.”

“Stick a fork in it, Alec,” Roger shot back, “like you stick a fork into everything else.”

Everyone laughed then.

“See?” Roger said, puffing out his chest. “I haven't lost my touch after all.”

“You're touched, period.” Alec guffawed.

The waiter stood beside Alec and rested an arm across his shoulders. “What's your pleasure tonight, Mr. DeMarco?”