Aleksander is a billionaire, attending the Grand Opening of a theater house he generously donated to. Alina is the shy, quiet understudy for the female lead.
“Mr. Morozova, I-I…” Alina stammered.
“Please, call me Aleksander,” he interrupted, using a napkin to dab at the spot where she had just spilled her cocktail on his tux.
Alina flushed with embarrassment, covering her face with her hands. “I am so, so sorry,” she said. “Please, let me get that cleaned for you.”
He looked at her in amusement. “I am quite capable of paying for my own cleaning,” he said.
“Of course you are, I didn’t mean to imply… I just feel awful,” she said. “As you should,” he chuckled darkly, “This is a $3000 tux.”
Alina paled slightly, then closed her eyes tightly in shame.
“Perhaps you can make it up to me in a different manner,” he said, “something a little more… hands-on.”
Her eyes flew open as she gasped. “Mr. Morozova, if you are insinuating what I think you are, that is completely inappropriate!”
“I am,” he stated simply. He stepped toward her slowly, his eyes heated ebony, until they were nearly touching. He dropped his head down to her ear and lowered his voice. “I can make all your dreams come true. In life, your career… the bedroom,” he whispered. He brought his hand up and slowly swept his finger down her arm. Her breath caught in her chest and she quivered involuntarily.
“Think about it,” he breathed out deeply, before striding off. He stopped a few feet away and turned back to her. “And I told you to call me Aleksander.”
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