Five years ago, the lives of both his father and his father’s business partner, Frances Dalmount, were tragically ended in a crash of ADG’s company jet. He had been deep into his grief and grappling with the lost opportunity to mend his strained relationship with his father when the reading of the will completely turned Alek’s life upside down.
Alek’s grandfather, Ebo Ansah, began a financial services firm in Ghana in the 1950s that grew significantly in the mid-1960s, providing a very respectable living for his wife, Kessie, and their four children. His eldest son, Kwame, grew under the tutelage of his father and was anxious for his opportunity to enter the family business. They expanded the fiscal services offered to their loyal clients and grew their business. Life was good, and with the Ansah men working together doggedly, it became even better. Upon Ebo’s passing in the early 1980s Kwame took over the running of the business, aggressively taking over smaller banks and insurance and investment firms to catapult himself to wealth and prominence. When the opportunity arose in 1987 to join forces with Frances Dalmount, a business competitor from England, he accepted with the intent to use their combined resources to take on other business ventures. The Ansah Dalmount Group was formed, eventually becoming one of the most successful conglomerates in the world with its business umbrella encompassing financial services, oil, hotels/resorts/casinos and telecommunications.
Kwame Ansah relished every moment of their success because he knew his father would be proud. And he wanted nothing more than for his eldest son to join him to advance the company even further. It was their biggest point of contention.
Alek clenched his jaw in regret.
After graduating with a Master of Business Administration degree from Columbia University, Alek did not enter the family business as planned and instead fostered his love of the outdoors and sailing by working as a deckhand on a luxury mega yacht, with plans to rise up the ranks to captain his own vessel. What his father saw as defiance was just him fighting for his independence to be his own man. It was the first time he ever defied him.
Back then he felt so much pride in striking out on his own.
Back then he was pleased that his job kept him away from home so that he could avoid the look of disappointment and anger in his father’s eyes.
Back then he thought he had more time to make everything right.
And now?
Five years had passed and the guilt was still palpable.
“I knew your father well, Alek,” Huntsman said, reaching up with his free hand to firmly pat his shoulder. “You have already made him proud.”
Alek’s smile was slight but genuine. “He threw me in the deep end and I had no choice but to sink or swim,” he said with a chuckle.
Kwame Ansah had been determined to have his way, even in death.
Alek had to make the difficult choice of accepting the position as cochief executive officer of ADG or having all his father’s shares in the conglomerate sold, with the proceeds donated to various charities. That would leave not only Alek but the rest of his family without an inheritance. His father had to have known he would never lose the family’s legacy and financial security. Stubborn old man.
Kwame Ansah was relentless, and in the end, he had been right. Per his father’s request he had spent the last five years training inside the company in preparation to run it. He spent considerable time within every branch of the ADG learning about it from the ground floor up. He took to it all like a fish to water. He soared, driven by a desire to make his father proud, but also pure determination to thrive and win—traits he inherited from his sire.
For so long, his stubbornness to pave his own path in life had blinded him to the innate skill and tenacity his father had seen in him all the while.
Now he was prepared to take the Ansah Dalmount Group even further.
Well, along with Alessandra, he conceded, sliding one hand into the pocket of his tailored slacks and taking another sip as he shook his head.
The news that his father’s business partner had left his shares of their billion-dollar conglomerate to his daughter had yet to sit well with him. Their power in the company was equal. Each inherited 49 percent of the shares, with the board of directors left with 2 percent of the shares to decide on a stalemate between them.
Alek felt that was inevitable.
They were completely driven.
With their fathers as both business associates and close friends, Alek had known Alessandra since childhood. Ever since they were small, Alek had found Alessandra’s quiet nature off-putting. She was never friendly and seemed afraid of her own shadow. As teenagers, they were never in the same circle of friends or schools but saw each other at social functions. She was decidedly awkward and found with her head in a book more times than not. He had little patience for the mousy little introvert and was glad their time in each other’s presence became nonexistent with age.
He frowned at the memory of her during their first meeting with the board of directors of ADG. Slender and petite with a head full of massive curls that dwarfed her face. Her petite figure swamped in the shirt and pants she wore. Oversize, ill-adjusted spectacles that she continuously pushed up on her nose. Nervously biting at her bottom lip. Looking confused, lost and unaware that she was completely out of her element.
He expressed his discontent with her appointment as co-CEO, so much so that the board readily agreed to his request to do his training in their London offices while Alessandra remained in New York. That was the last time he saw Miss Alessandra Dalmount.
And all of that would change tomorrow.
Everything would change tomorrow.
Alek released a heavy breath.
“It is not your last walk to the electric chair, sir,” Huntsman said, taking the now-empty snifter from him to cross the polished floor to refill it.
Alek reached up to run his long fingers across his close-shaven head. It wasn’t the move that Huntsman spoke of and they both knew it. It was not a “what” but a “whom.”
Alessandra Dalmount.
He accepted the snifter Huntsman pressed into his hand. “What in the world was Frances thinking?” he muttered darkly, his brow furrowing as he gripped the nightcap so hard that a lesser material would have crushed in his grasp.
“Ah, the eternal question,” Huntsman said softly, his tone amused.
“I will not sit back and let her destroy everything our fathers worked so hard to build,” Alek said sharply, turning in his spot to face the older man.
Huntsman smoothed his hands over his vest before clasping his hands together behind his back and rapping his heels together. “And yet the firm still stands strong after five years of her working there,” he said smoothly, his face almost unreadable.
“But she gains forty-nine percent control tomorrow—”
“As do you, sir,” Huntsman reminded him.
“Yes, but I know what the hell I’m doing!” Alek snapped.
Ding-dong.
“Plans, sir?” Huntsman asked drily.
“Damn,” Alek swore, dropping his head so low that his chin almost touched his chest.
He’d forgotten the beautiful woman he’d met after a business lunch out on the cigar terrace of the Boisdale of Belgravia earlier that day. It had been hard not to notice one of the few women enjoying the decidedly masculine Scottish decor, particularly her handling of the long and thick cigar in her mouth as she boldly met his stare from across the terrace. She’d made an invite back to his apartment for a nightcap completely undeniable.
He’d since forgotten all about her.
Huntsman