Alpha Incorporated

IV - iii A GREAT DISGUISER

Angelo loves his Lamborghini. He loves its perfection, how it is the ménage of beauty and form and power. He loves the feeling, right now, how it seems to dig into the road, carves a hard turn to the right as his body fights the pull to the left. He loves how he needs to drop his right shoulder and tilt his head as his hands, left overtaking right, caress the warm leather of the wheel. He loves how the car responds to his touch, and how, now that the turn is nearly finished, he can touch the gas pedal, ever so delicately, and the engine screams in pleasure, comes alive with excitement and throws him back against the seat, demanding more. He loves knowing he that must be gentle with her.

The road ahead is empty. The Pacific, on his left, is a shimmer of pink and purple. The sage brush hill, on his right, is in shadow. Angelo teases the accelerator and the jet black convertible roars into the straightaway ahead.

This is where he comes to clear his head. The stretch of Highway 1 south of Jenner, is in his mind, one of the best drives in the world. He used to come here on Sunday mornings, early, but lately it seems that there are too many cyclists on the weekends. It is Wednesday before daybreak, and there is not a soul here.

And he needs to clear his head about what went on last night. That is why he left his home at four-thirty in the morning. He has this feeling, a burning in his chest, that he is hoping the roar of the engine, the feel of the road, the wind in his hair and the smell of the ocean, will extinguish. And it does, until he thinks about her again.

There is a gravel exit up ahead on the right that switches back to a small parking area that overlooks the Pacific. It is a trailhead where hikers often park, but this morning, he is alone. He points the hood of the car towards the sea, and turns off the engine. The rumble beneath him ceases, and he is left with the deep groan of the surf hitting rock. He wants some time to think and to watch the sun turn the dim purple grey of the morning sea into shining brilliance with the clarity of a new day.

Last night. Last night. That was fucked. He is thinking this, thinking about her, wanting to replay the night's events, detail by detail, but is afraid to, afraid of what he might discover. Not only about her, but about himself.

He didn't want to go out for dinner, but the meeting with the Japanese development team had been booked long ago. It was best, for everyone, that he attend. Meetings are now, for him, no longer about details or ideas or strategy, they are about appearances and handshakes, about creating a superficial relationship, about acting like you care. Really, it is this: if you want my money for your little project, then let's at least do dinner. It's the difference between paying an escort and paying a whore. So, he played his part, said the right things, smiled at the right time, while he knew that at home, Isabella would be waiting.

The deal between them had been worked out in advance. Text messages, a brief phone call, and finally, there was a contract, of sorts, struck between them. Young Miss Measures was very particular about how this would happen. Angelo didn't mind that. He likes a woman who will negotiate with him, who will try to stand her ground, put up a fight. As long as, in the end, he comes out on top. And he almost always does.

His thoughts turn to Mariana, back to their time together. It was her skill as a negotiator that really turned him on. Throughout the buyout process, she fought relentlessly to eek out every last penny she could from Alpha. Even her own team, he could tell, were frustrated by the woman's tenacity. Faces would frown or there would be a note passed; they would adjourn to a private meeting, hushed whispers in the corner or a sudden chat in the hall, and each time they would return, it would be on her terms. Angelo remembers how she would creak a tiny smile when their eyes would meet and he knew he had to have her. The business deal was one thing, having her as his mate, was what began to really matter.