The first paragraph was exactly as she recalled, and Alessa was about to comment to the fact, but then she realized the second paragraph significantly changed the parameters of the date and her responsibilities. Denny was correct; the contract with her signature stated the date was to last no less than twelve hours, and what was more, Denny was allowed to ask her anything, to which she undertook to answer all his questions honestly and to the best of her ability.
"This, this isn't the contract I signed," she argued at last.
"But it is. See there? That's your signature. It would hold up in any court. And given that it is just now midnight, that means you are mine until noon tomorrow," he replied with a smile.
"Denny, this is some sort of a trick. You switched them!" she gasped when she finally realized what must have happened. "You purposefully spilled your coffee on the contract that I read and then had me resign this phony one!" she accused indignantly.
"You can't prove that. What you
can
do, is make a very big ruckus, accuse me of actions you can't prove, be held responsible for the full seventy-five thousand, lose face and possibly your job, and ruin everything you've spent the last fifteen years to build." His tone was calm and cool and unaffected by the untenable plight he had maneuvered her in.
"Let's face it. You got rattled, and you became sloppy. If you hadn't been in such a hurry to get out of that copy room, you might have done a better job protecting your interests. But as it is, you've only set yourself up to look like the most irresponsible associate we have had in quite some time. I say associate, because anyone making this sort of bungle never made it to partner," he remarked almost cruelly, taking the paper from her numbed hands and waving it before placing it back into his jacket pocket. "So, unless you want to derail that glittering career you've worked so hard for, I suggest you play along for the next twelve hours."
Alessa was quiet as her mind scrambled to cope with her deleterious blunder. She was tempted to call him a name defaming his character, but the impulse faded as she wondered how she was going to fix her mess. But then she realized she didn't even know what Denny had planned. Admittedly, twelve hours of conversation, though that seemed rather long, wasn't such a horrific idea. She wouldn't openly admit it to him, but she rather enjoyed being with him, even if she was simultaneously afraid of it. And it wasn't as if she signed a contract to be his slave or to allow him any sexual liberties he could think of. It was just conversation.
Granted, the last time they had had a heart to heart, it had ended with her spilling her deepest secrets and making out with him in public.
"Denny, what do you want?" she asked at last, weary sounding.
"I'm not going to harm you," he assured, inclining his face to hers. Alessa looked at him, seeking out his eyes in the darkness. "I'm not going to press my advantage. I just want you to fulfill the terms of your contract."
"To what end?" she asked slowly. But his expression was all he offered, though she couldn't decipher it beyond a tenderness that made something inside clench painfully.
She turned to look out the window. She didn't quite trust him, and even more so, didn't trust herself around him, and so held back any further argument as they pulled up to The Ritz-Carlton. An attendant rushed forward and opened Alessa's door. When Denny stepped out behind her, the attendant welcomed him back. As Denny slipped his hand on Alessa's back and guided her through the front door, she turned to look at him, raising a quizzical and scornful eyebrow.
"Settle down," he whispered. "I checked in earlier this afternoon and he valeted my car for me."
"So you don't make a habit of bringing an endless string of women here."
Denny's smile was barely contained. "No, just you," and then he punched the button to call for the elevator.
"You booked the Presidential Suite?" Alessa asked in surprise, reading the placard as he took out his card key.
"I told you," he reminded her, "I wanted to pick something neutral. And as cliché as a hotel room is, I thought perhaps a suite with plenty of space and a variety of sitting areas, and two separate bedrooms should you wish to sleep tomorrow away, would seem less threatening than one with only a large king size bed taking up the majority of the room."
Alessa understood that dealing with large, multinational corporations meant she would have to get comfortable with wealth, but the sumptuous, palatial décor of the suite wasn't something she could take in unaffectedly.
It was hard to believe they were in a hotel at all, she thought, once she stepped into the large, open room. As she looked around, she figured she could fit her small apartment into it three times over, and she was only viewing the living quarters; the master suite was attached at the far right and the guest room on the left. It was richly decorated in woods and endless fabrics. All the furniture was exquisite and detailed, and perfectly adorned with pillows and throws. Through the windows Alessa could see the lights of the city, including the Bay Bridge. And then she saw the double doors that led out onto the expansive balcony.
Denny walked to the large round dining table. It was alight with dozens of candles per his instructions, and food was laid out on it, along with a bucket of ice and champagne.
"I hope you don't mind," he began once he knew she had at last turned her attention to him instead of the room, "but I went ahead and ordered dinner. It's from the restaurant downstairs. One of the best in the city." He uncovered the dishes revealing sumptuous looking plates underneath. "Please," he invited, pulling out her chair.
Still uneasy, Alessa approached to sit in the offered seat. She mumbled a thank you as he helped her scoot closer. When he sat adjacent to her, she followed his lead, taking her napkin only when he did, picking up her fork only because he had. He offered her the chilled champagne.
"Not sparkling wine?"
"No, Sweetheart, this is Champagne. Not sparkling wine," he answered with a grin. "I think this bottle is almost three-years-old. A very good year," he commented before lifting up his glass to salute her and then taking a sip. Alessa followed suit, taking a sip of the bright and effervescent drink.
After they had eased comfortably into their meal, Denny spoke. "Did you enjoy the party?"
"Present company excluded?" she quipped with a sour smile.
Denny laughed at that, but then looked up from his food, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. "Was I that bad?"
Her lip was curled in disdainful disbelief. "How can you ask that? You were a jerk, yet again. And we were having such a nice time. It's...peculiar," she admitted with some trouble finding the right word, "that you went to all this trouble, all this
expense
to get a date with me when you couldn't be bothered to act civilly at the party. Don't you think you would have gotten further by simply acting nice to me instead of bidding on me cloak-and-dagger style and secluding me away in a creepy, albeit nice, hotel room?" She arched an eyebrow, challenging him to defend his behavior. And then her frown deepened as she recalled their unpleasant interaction.
"You kissed me. Again. But you didn't mean it," she accused softly, but then she glared up at him. "You didn't do it because you wanted to. You did it because you were angry. I didn't like it. Don't do it again," she warned.
"What?" Denny asked leaning forward to place his elbows on the table, a light smile playing at the corners of his eyes. "Kiss you or not kiss you when I'm angry?"
Alessa opened her mouth to say when he was angry, but instantly recognized that for the trap it was. "Don't kiss me unless I give you permission," she clarified at last. "And stop smirking, because it won't ever happen again."
But Denny couldn't help but smile, knowing he was going to make her rue her words.
She rolled her eyes. "So what was with you? You weren't jealous that I danced with Hyun-Joong, were you?" she asked as she started in on her food once more. "After all, wasn't that the purpose of the evening? To mingle with clients?"
Denny narrowed his eyes, recalling that the jealously he had felt wasn't simply because she had danced with another man, but because he had believed she wanted to date that man after she had refused all his advances. But that was before he had stood in a candle-lit room watching hidden from a crowd. And he knew he had been wrong.
Max had claimed Alessa was riddled with insecurities, and as she stood there before a wealthy and elitist mass, head high and smile dazzling, he knew Max was right. For despite the bravado she displayed, her eyes darted to him on more than one occasion. Not with a smirk or taunt, but with a plea. He had seen her vulnerability then, and knew instantly that even though Hyun-Joong was bidding for her, it wasn't his friend she wanted. She wanted him. And in that look, all his ire had faded away, and once again he felt like an ass.
