The Trading Game

Chapter 4

I wait until we get to the car before I badger Alix with questions.

"Tell me."

I order, as he takes out a candy bar from his jacket pocket and takes a bite.

"Alix!" I yelled, as he started chewing too slowly for my liking.

He smirks, "He agreed to endorse it. We're supplying his need for more jobs. Which was one of his campaign promises and his top priority." He states, finally.

I bounced in my seat. This has been an exhausting trip. I would like to get back home and finally sleep in my own bed. I glance at Alix, who never shows much emotion, unless it involves chocolate.

"Are we headed back?" I asked, hopeful.

He shakes his head. "Not yet. I want to have everything set and ready to go."

It doesn't surprise me, it makes sense that he'd want to stay. New York shipping co, transitioned into Greco Shipping International, flawlessly. Mainly because he had put his blood, sweat and tears into it. I shouldn't have expected anything less with the Savannah Port Project.

"What's the next step?" I asked, wanting more information.

"Why do you keep pestering me for details? And why do you want to go home so badly?" He asks, suspiciously.

Busted.

"I'd like to see my niece. It's her birthday next Saturday. They're having a party at my parents' house. I told her I would try to be there." I explained, hoping to tug at his cold heart strings.

He nods. "We'll leave Saturday in time for the party and check in at G.S.I New York, then fly back down."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

Not that I haven't worked my butt off and deserve the luxury of a day off, but I didn't expect him to actually give it to me.

"Call it a truce. To scare away the future, Mr. Rivers." He mocks, picking up his phone.

"Who?" I asked, confused.

He grunts, a slight smile on his face. "Never mind."

Thrown off momentarily by his smile, "What are-" I started to ask, then remember the man in the ballroom.

"Oh, him. Alright, fair trade." I agree, happily.

"I can't wait to meet the parents who raised such a forgetful chit." He muses.

"I'm not forgetful," I argued. I remember everything.

If I were forgetful, he would've fired me by now.

"True. Your amnesia only involves men, apparently." He teases.

"Thank God for that. Then one day I can forget all about you." I smirked.

Trading insults with Alix Greco is the only way to release the tension that this job creates.

We go toe to toe and don't pull our punches. It's been this way since the first week that I started.

"I'm crushed." He replies, distracted by an email.

I huff, in response. This man has never been hurt by anyone or anything a day in his life.

Since I've been employed by him, I haven't even seen him with a woman. He is the definition of solitary man.

"I'll remember the good times." I told him, jokingly.

He looked up from his phone.

"There are so many." He sighs, dramatically, making me laugh.

I lean back against the leather seats, reminiscing.

“Late meetings, missing sleep, eating out of cardboard boxes, going 2 days without showering, not seeing my family-"

"So many to choose from," he interrupted.

"What time is the birthday party?"

"It starts at 3 answered.

"Okay, the plane will be ready at 9. We'll get there around 11, check in at G.S.I do a little work. Then we'll head to your parents' house."

I looked up at him surprised.

"We? You're coming with me?" I asked, jokingly. Knowing he misspoke and wanting to tease him for it.

"I said I was." He responds.

I turned towards him, shocked. "To the birthday party?" I asked, for clarification.

He shrugs, "I think it will be stimulating."

"Stimulating? A little girls birthday party?" I asked, dumbfounded.

Alix hates getting to know anyone. Why would he want to go with me?

He smiles, "There'll be cake, right?"

I shook my head. "You know. One day you're going to die fat and alone.”

"But I'll die happy."

He opens his coat pocket and brings out a box of junior mints, his favorite.

"Where do you put all that?" I asked, perplexed.

He's the most physically fit man I've ever known.

He works out with a personal trainer, but he eats so much junk food. I've noticed he's been eating more and more lately.

"Better question: Why do you eat so much junk food? Were you deprived as a kid?" I asked, grabbing a clear water from a cup holder.

I took a drink, waiting for him to answer.

"No. I eat when I'm horny," he answers.

Making me spit out my water. I started choking and coughing.

"You asshole." I said, holding my hand over my mouth.

"You did that on purpose!"

He smirks, "You asked."

"That can't be true."

I said, glancing at him. He gives me a deadpan look, telling me it's not a joke.

"Why are you so horny? Go get laid. It would save you from getting diabetes," I pointed out.

"Who would I have s*x with?"

"Go to a bar, like normal people, and pick someone up" I suggested.

"I loath bars." He grumbles.

"Too loud."

I rolled my eyes.

"You could've picked someone up at the charity event. Literally, all you would have to do is ask. They all know who you are." I stated, nonchalantly, before taking another drink.

Not at all feeling sorry for him, he can get anyone he wants. Having as much money as Alix Greco guarantees you a few things in life. One of them being the endless supply of women willing to fall on their backs with just one look from him.

He shrugs. "Want to have s*x?"

This time I got the water down my throat, but still punched his leg for trying to shock me.

"How long has it been?" I asked, curiously.

"8 months." He replies, matter of factly.

"Wow! That's what? 10 years in guy years?" I teased.

"20" He corrects, seriously.

I see a bar up ahead.

"Want to stop?"

I ask, as he shakes more mints out of the box and into his hand. I point to the bar and he shakes his head, no.

"I can't help you if you won't help yourself." I told him, annoyed.

"You're never there for me." He sighs, shoving another mint in his mouth.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I just offered to be your wingman."

His eyes narrowed at me. "I don't need a wingman."

"Clearly, you need help. Its been 8 months." I say, trying to keep the smirk off my face.

He just glares at me so I continue.

“What do you usually do? To get laid." I clarify.

"Pick someone up at an event of some kind." He answers, casually.

"Do you want to go back to the charity ball?" I asked, helpfully.

He shakes his head. "No."

I shrugged, I tried. "Then eat butterball and no more pouting."

I ordered, rolling my eyes as I watched him shake out more mint chocolates into his hand.

"Why can't we have s*x?" He questions, turning to look at me.

I scoff at the obscurity of the question.

"Lots of reasons, but the biggest one being that I work for you." I reminded him.

He shrugs.

"I'll pay."

My eyes widened.

"Watch it."

I warn. "How long has it been for you?" He questions, unfazed.

I sighed, and started looking at my hands.

Lifting my fingers as if I was counting. "25 years," I replied, after a couple of seconds.

"So, over 8 months?" He asks, impressed.

I rolled my eyes, and smiled.

"No, 25. As in normal human years, I answered" I answered, honestly.

We pulled up to our hotel and I silently thank God. I don't want to carry on with this conversation with him anymore.

I turn to open my door but he stops me.

"You've never had s*x?"

He asks, but it comes out as an accusation.

"Nope. That's why I don't need chocolate to cope." I wink playfully, before climbing out.

We walked into the lobby and a woman that works behind the front desk took over Alix's messages and mail. He takes them without a glance or a thank you and we continue to the elevators. I rolled my eyes and thanked her for him. She gives a small knowing smile and we walk to the elevations. He waits for me to enter and I hit the button on our floor and the doors closed.

"We could trade? What do you want?" He asks, looking down at me.

I hate his height advantage.

It's annoying to have to tilt my head back this much to scowl at him.

It's written all over his face, he's not joking.

Which surprises and confuses me.

Alix is very professional, no way would he sleep with a subordinate.

"No, sorry. This isn't up for bartering. You'll just have to put on your big boy pants and hit on a woman the old-fashioned way."

"Ballpark, what would it cost me?" He replies, not listening.

I think about my nieces' medical bills, my parents' debt, hell my own past due notices. I laughed, bitterly.

"More than what its worth, trust me."