The Suite Life (13 page)

I showed up at my cubicle well before nine on Tuesday, much to the surprise of both Priti and my boss.

“I half-expected to not see you at all today,” Priti said as she rolled back from her desk, “much less this early.”

“First day of the rest of my life.” I sighed, eyeing the non-blinking message light on my phone.
Nothing from Alec? Now that is a surprise.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Priti said, shooting a glance toward our boss, who was buried in his work. “I'm not reading any vibe from you at all, Sam. You gonna fill me in now, or make me wait until lunch?”

“Everything's fine, P,” I said as I pulled my chair back. “I fell asleep on the phone with Alec last night.”

“Speaking of sleeping . . .” Priti said, stopping in midsentence. Her eyes were wide open and focused on something over my shoulder. Before I could say a word, two massive arms circled my waist from behind, one hand clutching a long-stemmed rose.

“Good morning, Samantha Bonti,” Alec whispered, nipping an ear.

Priti's eyes opened wider, if that were possible, as she lowered her head and made a move to roll back into her cubicle.

“Wait, Priti,” I said. “I want you to meet Alec.”

Alec looked toward her without letting go of my waist and she got to experience his jumbo grin for the first time. “So this is the friend I've heard so much about.” Alec reached an arm toward Priti and squeezed her hand. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Priti.”

“Likewise, Alec,” Priti said, a blush evident even on her caramel skin. “I'll leave you two alone,” she spluttered as she rolled into her cubicle.

I turned around in Alec's arms and caught the boss looking our way. “If you don't get out of here, Alec, I'll be in hot water,” I said.

“Any water you're in positively boils,” he said, pulling me close with a smile. I was certain my boss could see my face turn red from twenty feet away. “And you make my blood boil, too,” he whispered before planting a kiss smack on my lips.

I don't care about the boss right now.

“I'm leaving anyway,” he said as he separated from me. “Just didn't want you to forget me today.”

As if.

With that, he slipped the rose into my hand and his fingers traced my arm as he stepped back and leaned against the end of the partition. “I hope you don't have any plans for Saturday,” he added.
Gee, I'd planned to spend the day looking at my four walls.
“Jack's invited us on his boat . . .” he said, the words trailing off as he disappeared.

Priti's voice wafted over the divider. “Consider me totally filled in.”

It was a cool, crisp fall day when Alec and I arrived in the Rover at the Seventy-ninth Street Boat Basin on the Hudson River.
Alec took my hand for the short stroll to the end of a floating dock, raising his hand to Jack and Patricia Bronson in response to their hearty wave from the deck of their thirty-foot sailboat.

He steadied me as I stepped down into the dinghy that would take us to the larger boat, then followed me aboard, rocking the small boat more than I would have liked. The attendant pulled the crank on the outboard motor and shoved off.

“Ahoy there!” Jack yelled from the stern as we came alongside. He took my hand and helped me on board.

Alec refused a hand, lumbered aboard the sloop, and saluted his friend. “All hands on deck, captain,” he said with a big grin, then handed a bag to Patricia. “Some champagne to christen the voyage.”

“We'll keep ours as backup, then,” Patricia said before heading to the galley below. “I'll be right back.”

“Why don't you two sit down while I cast off,” Jack suggested.

Alec and I took our places in the stern and he wrapped an arm around me as Jack negotiated the slick deck to the front of the boat and untied the bowline. Then he straightened up, put his hands on his hips, and surveyed the river for a moment before scrambling back to the helm.

“Have you sailed before, Samantha?” Jack asked, gunning the engine.

I've been sailing along for weeks.
“No, it's my first time.”

“First time for a lot of things lately.” Alec chuckled.

“I'm sure,” Jack said as Patricia reappeared with flutes and champagne. “We'll cruise to the Battery and unfurl the sails when we hit the bay.”

“And toast the Statue of Liberty,” Patricia said.

“That'll be the second one,” Alec said, reaching for two flutes.

“But of course,” Patricia said as she filled the flutes and passed one to her husband.

Jack kept one hand on the wheel as Patricia moved to his side and rested an arm on his waist. “To the best first mate anyone could have,” he said, raising his glass to his wife.

Alec pulled me close. “I'll drink to that,” he said, “and to my mate, too.”

“Cheers, everyone,” Patricia said as we sipped.

We passed the aircraft carrier museum
Intrepid
anchored opposite Forty-sixth Street and the helicopter pads just below Thirty-fourth Street ten minutes later. The World Trade Center, only a couple of blocks from Alec's apartment, dominated the view off the port bow even though it was still a couple of miles away, and I had a tiny first glimpse of Lady Liberty dead ahead.

The sleek boat cut through the water, seemingly without effort, and the only sounds I heard were the gentle purr of its small engine and the Hudson lapping at the hull. Alec, lost in thought for a minute, ran his finger through my long hair, which was flying behind me in the breeze, and then bent over and gave me one of his soulful kisses. I hadn't quite gotten used to these public displays of affection, but I didn't resist when he went back for a second helping.

“I'd tell you two to get a room”—Jack chortled—“but I need you now, Alec.”

He turned the wheel over to Patricia and Alec followed him to the furled sails. The two of them unbuckled the bindings and pulled on the lanyards, and I was impressed not only that Alec seemed to know what to do but also that he did it with aplomb. The men ducked aside and their faces broke out in broad smiles as the sails billowed, the sloop leaped forward, and Patricia steered us to the left of Lady Liberty. Jack retook the helm then, and I craned my neck as we sailed past. “I'll get us something to snack on,” Patricia said, relieved of her duties, and once more she disappeared below.

“I'm starved,” Alec announced, squeezing next to me again. “How about you?”

“I could use a bite.”

Alec leaned over and nipped my ear. “Happy to oblige,” he whispered.

Jack set the wheel, heading us toward the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge miles away, and joined the rest of us in the stern.

“What a way to go, eh, pal?” he asked rhetorically, raising his glass to Alec.

Alec returned the gesture. “First class, as usual,” he said.

“Wind's at our back,” Jack continued, “in more ways than one.”

“Smooth sailing, all the way to the top.”

Patricia gave me a wink. “You guys aren't going to start talking business now, are you?”

“We can discuss the Yankees if you prefer,” Alec cracked.

“We women will have none of that,” Patricia scoffed. “You're on our time now.”

“Okay, then,” Alec said, “let's talk about Sam joining us in Bermuda.”

Patricia smiled in my direction. “That's a fabulous idea,” she said. “What do you think, Samantha?”

“First time I'm hearing about it.”

Alec pulled me close. “I was gonna lay it on you later, Sam,” he said. “We're entertaining a major banking client there for a week and I would love to have you with me.”

I fidgeted in my seat. “When?”

“Week from Monday.”

“I can't get away for a whole week, Alec,” I said softly.
And I'm not sure I'm ready for a whole week with you, either.

“Then I'll fly you down on Wednesday,” he said. Problem solved. “I'll just have to do what I can to survive until you show up,” he added, laughing.

“I don't know.”

“C'mon,” Alec purred. “I'll take care of everything. There's even a set of Lugano luggage in it for you.”

“Ooh,” Patricia gushed toward me. “I'd hold him to that, whether you go or not.”

They're all so casual about it,
I thought, still torn between jeopardizing my job and just saying
screw it
.

“You need me to talk to your boss?” Alec the problem solver asked.

“I'll see what I can do.”

“The big guy won't take no for an answer,” Jack said, smiling.

No, I suppose he won't.

My boss probably knew where the chips lay because he didn't put up much of a fuss. The week flew by, and Priti was almost as excited as I was about my going to Bermuda, which the well-heeled knew was absolutely ideal in September and the peons only dreamed about.

Alec did take care of everything, and neither the leather luggage he had promised nor the first-class booking came as a surprise. I felt like royalty from the moment a driver picked me up early in the morning and stowed my bags in the limo.

I could get used to this.

I did find it somewhat odd when the solicitous flight attendant addressed me as “Mrs. DeMarco” but it seemed natural to just go with the flow. It was also natural to order a mimosa when she asked if she could get me anything, and to ponder my immediate and long-term future with the man I'd gotten to know very well, but who was still somewhat of a mystery to me. And then, there it was: a woman getting on the plane carrying a white Vera Wang garment bag. I took it as another sign.

I had little doubt about Alec's strengths—his intimidating size with an ambition to match, and the softness that he
showed so spontaneously, at least to his family and to me—but I wondered if his weaknesses—his lack of caution when plowing straight ahead and his seemingly insatiable appetites—would eventually prove problematical, if not destructive. I hoped that the days ahead would provide me with more knowledge about, if not answers to, the mystery of Alec DeMarco.

When we got to Bermuda the jet banked above the island then glided down onto a glistening white runway. As I exited the terminal, I was engulfed by the tropical sun and a warm ocean breeze. The driver who met me apologized for Alec, saying that he was tied up in a meeting, which was okay with me since I'd have some time to take in the scenery on our way to the hotel.

A doorman and a bellhop, outfitted in bright red, British-style uniforms and quaint, bill-less caps, approached the taxi as it rolled to a stop. The doorman helped me out of car while the bellhop grabbed the bags in the trunk.

“Mr. DeMarco is waiting for you in the lobby,” the doorman said when we arrived, with a wave toward the entrance. Sure enough, Alec rose from a wicker chair, signature grin in place and a vanilla ice-cream cone in hand.

“Do you mind taking care of this?” Alec asked the bellhop as he handed him the cone. “I've got what I need now.”

“Not at all, Mr. DeMarco,” the bellhop replied, taking it from him as Alec scooped me up into his arms, squeezed tight, and said hello with a deep kiss.

“I can't tell you how happy I am to see you,” he gushed. “Let's go change into swimsuits and grab a bite of lunch. After that I have a few things I need to take care of, so you can do some shopping in town and we'll meet up again later.”

The bellhop was just leaving the suite as we approached. Alec slipped a bill into his hand as I paused just inside, mesmerized by the view of the bay beyond the veranda and by the ocean breeze that filled the room. Alec engulfed me with his arms
from behind, and I closed my eyes as he nibbled at my ear, his halting breath as warm as the island air.

“You don't know what you do to me, Sam,” he moaned as he wrapped his arms around me. “I'm not going to wait anymore.” And with that, he swept me up off the floor and headed for the bedroom.