Trapped in the Billionaire's Gilded Cage

“Well, if it isn’t New York City’s very own most eligible bachelor.” Alexander suppressed a reflexive frown that crossed over his face at those words. The voice that spoke was soft and bewitching, clearly feminine; the words that were intoned, however, earned a slight amount of irritation from him. ‘Probably one of the many useless harpies flocking around the fete tonight,’ he thought disparagingly as he turned around to acknowledge the intruder. He paused. He swallowed. ‘Huh. It seems this harpy is more alluring than most,’ was his next thought, influenced by a reflexive surge of interest from his libido. She was tall for a woman, somewhere around 5 feet 11 inches, a quality that he found eminently attractive; it meant her legs were probably to die for, though her crimson satin gown currently hid them from view behind its shimmering red curtains, which meant he couldn’t check to confirm for himself. Her hair was a bright red only a couple shades lighter than her gown, and her eyes were like emerald green gemstones fixed against the milky ceramic whiteness of her facial skin. The way his eyes quickly assessed her from head to toe, lingering on her pert and bountiful bosom, was also reflexive of course. Certainly not something he’d do because of the tug of attraction pooling in his stomach. That would just be reckless. He gave her a charming smile; “I’m sure you have me mistaken for someone else, Miss…” he trailed off, fishing for her name. She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him in apparent amusement. “Rachel. Rachel Wilson of the New York Crossroads,” she dutifully supplied, and Alexander felt his arousal fade into the wind like so much dew. She held out a hand, and he took it in a brief, perfunctory shake, feeling like a robot. Contact with her soft skin sent tingles through him, but he willfully crushed the resurgent desire. She wasn’t someone he could or should get involved with. “I’m aware that the Plaza is graced tonight with celebrities from all over. Jeremy Winchester has certainly been voted the most eligible bachelor several times in a row this year,” she continued as she gestured with her chin towards the blond haired blue eyed actor in the corner currently occupied with serenading a couple of equally blonde bombshells. He glanced at the man, and then returned his attention to Rachel when she continued speaking; “However, you, Alexander Reddington, are currently the undisputed most eligible. All you have to do is read the news to know what I mean,” she finished with a slight, impish smirk. Alexander felt another surge of attraction, which he again crushed ruthlessly. He would not be distracted by her delectable Cupid’s bow lips. He narrowed his eyes at her, staring intensely in a way that would get his point across. ‘I suppose even a harpy that looks more alluring than others of her kind is still, at the end, a harpy; yet another disappointment,’ he thought, then he spoke aloud; “I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. Nevertheless, I do not wish to speak more on my bachelorhood. Now, if you would excuse me Miss Wilson,” he said, turning around and preparing to walk away. Alexander and the media were like five and six and he tried his best to remain out of the spotlight of the vultures. He would not be subjected to the same smear campaign that had so ruined his mother. “A lot of people are interested in how you grew to be so powerful, Mr. Reddington,” her voice called out again, this time with a note of urgency, and he stopped in his tracks. She took that as her cue to continue. “Little better than a pauper in your teenage years, and yet currently the multi-billionaire tycoon and CEO of EU&W Innovation… it’s a bit strange, don’t you think?” her voice, while still alluring, was now provoking him. He turned to stare at the starlet, his eyes filled with anger. She swallowed, but she still gave a carefully crafted smile of innocence in return. “Would you care to satiate our curiosity, Mr. Reddington? The people of New York are dying to know, I assure you.” “Is that so? It’s unfortunate, then, that their life or death has no bearing on me. I could care less.” Was his rapid fire response, and he walked away. He cursed himself in the confines of his thoughts. Why didn’t he just say ‘no comment’, and walk away leaving her empty handed? No one knew how she would twist his words in the papers, spoken in a fit of temper as they were. This was why Alexander preferred to keep some much needed distance between him and the media. It was easier for his peace of mind that way. ............... Rachel watched the Adonis-in-mortal-flesh walk away with a feeling of helpless frustration welling up in her chest. Yes, perhaps Rachel could have worded her inquiry with a bit more tact; what she had said was quite literally the opposite of subtle, and she had driven him away as a result. She couldn’t help it, though; she had been so distracted by his magnetic bearing and attractiveness that her brain and mouth had defaulted to automatic statements and replies that were, to put it kindly, a bit blunt, if not outright rude. She watched his shapely derriere strain against his black trousers as he took long strides to get away from her. ‘I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you walk away,’ her mind echoed a well-known innuendo, and her cheeks burned in mortification when she realized what exactly she had been thinking. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and snatched a flute of chilled champagne from a passing waiter, taking a sip and reveling in the burn of the drink and its refreshing taste. Her first attempt to get him to reveal his secrets had been clumsy and had ended in failure, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try again. She just had to brainstorm a little bit. “How much for your services?” she startled at the voice that spoke, jolting from her thoughts. She turned to see an obese man, sweating irritatingly, smiling at her and flashing his perfectly white teeth which had probably needed a fortune sunk into his dentists to make perfect. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, her voice composed. “You’re a w***e, aren’t you? I saw you all but throwing yourself in Reddington’s arms, undressing him with your eyes. He won’t appreciate you, though, but I will. So, how much?” Indignation burned in her chest and colored her cheeks, along with a smidge of embarrassment. Had she been that obvious? Still, this man did not have the right to jump to such obscene conclusions and debase her like that. He was probably rich as sin though, so she couldn’t really lash out in fear of offending him. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean. Please excuse me.” She turned to walk away, only for a hand to clamp down on her shoulders in a vice grip. She gasped, and the nauseating man spoke again; “How about a million a night? That should be enough, yes?” White hot rage surged in her chest, and before she knew it, her palm cracked against his doughy cheek with a thunderous slap that left an imprint. For a moment, she felt satisfaction. How dare he assume such things about her? Then she came to her senses, realized what she’d done, and felt sheer horror rushing through her veins. “Just what is happening here?” came the voice of Alexander Reddington.