Five-star Seduction (2 page)

Langa lost herself in her private musings again, until she felt Jess give her a nudge.

“Slap a smile on, metuka. Why waste a fantastic night? We might be here to network, but that doesn't rule out having some fun. Dance a little, and don't miss out on the fabulous champagne!”

Three hours into all the business talk and the dancing, Langa needed to catch her breath. She left Ben with a gathering of magazine publishers and headed for an unlit balcony, hoping to find it deserted.

A cool breeze carried the scent of jacaranda blossoms to her and she leaned on the balcony wall, taking deep breaths. Her mind cleared somewhat as she quietly tallied the night's successes.

The annoying man she'd held silent combat with earlier had not shown himself again. That was good. She couldn't imagine enduring the arrogance she had sensed rolling off him without snapping at some point.

She decided to call it a night and locate Ben. Decision made, she turned to go back inside – and promptly walked into what felt like a solid, warm wall.

“I'm so sorry, miss. I didn't realise there was someone out here.”

“That's alright. I didn't see –”

Her eyes lifted and met those of the very man who had recently been occupying her thoughts.

Oh no . . .

His mahogany skin looked so warm and inviting that Langa had to clench her hands to keep from reaching out and touching his face. His lips looked even more tempting up close. He was so near, he could kiss her if he just lowered his head.

You're doing yourself no favours by staring at his lips again!

She quickly snapped her eyes away from the man's sensual mouth and met his eyes. But it was too late. He must have noticed her look because his gaze had now lowered to
her
lips. In the next moment his face lowered to hers.

The touch of his kiss seared her from the moment they connected. He was tender at first, as if gauging her reaction. Then her soft sigh stole away his control and he groaned as he deepened the kiss to an intimacy Langa wasn't expecting.

He pulled her tightly against his chest. His tongue came out to caress her lips and she found herself responding instinctively. Her mouth opened and her own tongue met his so that she could taste him.

His arms tightened around her and she felt large hands splay out possessively against her back. One hand trailed forward and up her throat and she remembered a song she'd once heard about slow hands. She moaned in sudden understanding.

He held her just below her jaw and tilted her head in order to give himself better access to her elegant neck. When his lips touched her there warmth rose all over her skin. His tongue stroked at the pulse racing beneath his lips and she held onto his broad shoulders as she was hit by an ecstatic vertigo.

She felt his hand lazily trailing down her chest, exploring the flesh her dress left bare. He slipped his hand easily under the silk and lightly tickled across her ribcage before cupping her breast demandingly. Langa gasped involuntarily.

She caressed his muscular chest, his shoulders, his jaw. Their kiss made her want things she'd never given much thought to in all her years of dating. She wanted to undress him and get to know his body. She wanted him to wrap her in his protective arms and hold her until the sun rose. She wanted to kiss him forever.

A small cry escaped her when he roughly swept her dress aside and exposed her breast to the night air. The chill of the breeze didn't set in though, because he lowered his hot mouth and tasted her tight peak.

The blinding inferno was too much. Langa lost herself. Her world spun and all she could do was cling to this man who seemed to know her body better than she did. In a matter of moments he had revealed to her a passion she had never known herself to possess. She cried out again as his tongue stroked her.

“Hush, honey. Unless having an audience is your thing. Though I don't imagine the other guests are prepared for this sort of show.”

It wasn't so much his words that were the splash of cold water to her fervour. It was the amusement in his tone. And the realisation that he had been in control the entire time, the whole time that she had let herself go to the point of forgetting where they were. His kisses and his touch had been all that mattered to her.

Langa pulled away in horror. How could she have allowed this?

“No, don't stop now, honey. I need to be with you.”

The depths that those simple words touched within her frightened Langa more than anything else ever had. Without a second thought she wrenched free from his embrace and righted her dress. His surprised expression was the last thing she saw before running inside to tell Ben to take her home.

2

“We have a lunch appointment with Mr Rhadebe.”

The woman at the front desk smiled at Langa.

“Of course. Mr Miller is in the business lounge – he's the hotel manager. He asked that you be sent through as soon as you arrived. He'll take you up to the tower restaurant.”

Thomas Miller looked like he was gracefully approaching his mid-fifties. He led them to the lifts, apologising for his boss's absence, and explained that Mr Rhadebe had been held up in earlier meetings. On the way up he shared valuable information about the Rhadebe Omni-Chic Hotel. Its genesis, its vision and the level of luxury that made it stand out from regular hotels.

Langa's confidence grew as he spoke. She had guessed that Mr Rhadebe would not cower from a daring marketing approach, and that he would appreciate the originality of her thinking. From what Thomas Miller was telling her about his boss's business approach, she'd been right. Mr Miller proudly showed them through the tower restaurant, bringing its more unusual design features to their attention. The restaurant, like the rest of the hotel, was still closed to the public, but Langa knew Lazola would have no problem pulling in a crowd once it opened for business.

“If you'll be seated, I'll let Lazola know that you're waiting. He shouldn't be more than a few minutes.”

After informing a waiter that their lunch would be complimentary, he left them.

Ben whistled softly as he looked around the restaurant. He was very impressed and Langa did not blame him. Lazola Rhadebe had built a five-star hotel with the luxury to rival those found in major world destinations.

Langa looked at Ben and the other two members of her team and felt good. Mr Rhadebe had no idea what lay in store for him! She smiled to herself, excited by the thought of cutting the egotistical man down to size.

“Ready or not, here we go.”

Ben was rising from his chair as were the others, their eyes on a point behind Langa. She followed suit and turned to greet their host. Her radiant smile froze in the next instant and she had to grab a hold of her chair's back support to keep from crumpling to the carpet.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lazola Rhadebe's dark eyes narrowed and his broad shoulders tensed visibly.

Langa looked on in disbelief. It couldn't be! But it was. The same full lips that had possessed her less than two weeks ago were now narrowed angrily.

“I . . . I . . .” She panicked as her brain refused to kick into gear.

Ben gave her an odd look, but handled all the introductions smoothly.

“We're pleased to finally meet you, Mr Rhadebe. I'm Ben Nkosi.”

Langa watched as Lazola's face slowly settled into an inscrutable mask. His eyes burned into hers, but he made no mention of knowing her. He shook the hands of the three other men before turning to her. Langa gulped as his strong hand reached for her.

“Miss Cima, I presume?”

His voice. He asked the simple question in the same low timbre he'd murmured to her that night. Her body shivered in recognition and she cursed herself, for she was sure he felt it when their hands connected.

He startled her by practically flinging her hand aside when hers wouldn't release its grip on him after their handshake. She looked down in mortification.

What's wrong with you?

Ben hinted at getting right to the heart of the matter, their pitch, and Langa gratefully returned to familiar territory. When she realised that Lazola, though incensed, would not expose her, she was able to settle her nerves enough to display their concept layout for his scrutiny.

Once on a roll, her polished expertise and experience overrode her fumbling start. She handed Lazola a booklet of the launch concept and two folders: one with their year-long marketing campaign idea and the other with all the stats and figures he would need in order to make his decision.

She talked him through every point, fielding all his questions without hesitation. Mostly she was proud of how well she hid her apprehension. She knew that this was not a man who would allow an offence to go unpunished. Lazola Rhadebe was clearly unaccustomed to rejection and failure, and she would have to pay for what she had done when she left him standing there the other night.

She watched in silence as each member of her team presented a breakdown of the sub-branding of the hotel for different target markets. She thought she saw him nod as the publicity link with leisure tour operators for holidaymakers and luxury-class airline lounges for business travellers was explained.

Other than that, Lazola never interrupted and his facial expression never changed. Langa couldn't tell if they were winning his approval or not. Their lunch arrived and they spent the rest of their time together answering Lazola's preliminary questions. Langa felt a spark of hope at the interest he was showing.

Of course, there was the chance of him still saying no, simply based on their encounter that wretched night. It frustrated her to think that one moment of insanity could possibly cost her team the account of a lifetime. One moment of mindless passion.

She realised her gaze was pensively focused on his lips again and quickly shifted away, hoping no one had noticed. A moment later she looked up to find him smirking at her. He knew.

Langa lifted nervous fingers to tuck loose wisps of hair into her casual bun. For the first time ever she wondered if she should start relaxing her hair. It had fluffed out again since the media banquet and carelessly tumbled about her face and shoulders when loose. This morning she had swept it back to keep it out of her eyes and pinned it in place. The result was a look that was collected yet playful. She'd liked it this morning, but couldn't help wishing she were facing Lazola with the sophisticated image she'd presented when they'd first met.

“You lead your team well, Miss Cima. I will go over your work and give you my decision next week.”

His deep command was clear: leave now.

She snapped out of her daydreaming, angry to be fretting over her hair at a time such as this. And why did he insist on always calling her Miss while referring to the rest of her team by their first names? A small part of her knew that he was putting up barriers between them, and the thought depressed her.

She hesitated a moment as Ben and the others made their way out of the restaurant. Lazola had the folders in one hand and was answering a call. Common sense told her to give the man some privacy, but she found herself glued to the spot at his next words.

“Yes, of course I miss you too. Had you come through two weeks ago, as promised, we would not be having this conversation. Just call me when you're about to board, I'll come pick you up at the airport . . .”

Langa didn't hear the rest over the thudding of her heart. He had . . . someone. Not a wife – he wore no ring. But a girlfriend. Or – dear Lord – a fiancée? One he'd been seeing since long before they kissed. The bastard had used her to cheat on someone!

“Can I help you, Miss Cima?” His dark disdain was burning into her and she pushed her shoulders back boldly.

“About the other night . . .” She ignored his raised eyebrow, “That wasn't normal behaviour for me.”

“Anonymous seduction and abandonment, you mean?”

Her face was on fire. “I did not seduce you! We kissed, and that was all.”

“No, that wasn't all. You teased me. You may not have spoken a word, but your body made promises that we both felt. If that is how you lure in all your clientele, I completely understand your success thus far.”

“How dare you!” Her eyes blazed at him. “You think I deliberately went after you in order to secure this account?”

“You wouldn't be the first.”

His calm tone grated at her composure. Why did the thought of other women trying to seduce him bother her?

“Let me assure you, Mr Rhadebe, I have never used sex to achieve any of my successes. I'm good at what I do.”

“Oh, you certainly were, Miss Cima. So much so, that I'm considering handing you this account so I can collect on the passion your sweet form promised so freely that night.”

He sneered at her widened eyes before walking away and leaving her clenching her fists.

* * *

Langa watched detachedly as one of the girls from the production department stroked Ben's arm while laughing at something he whispered to her. It was a Friday afternoon and the whole office had quit early so that they could go out for drinks. They were celebrating. The Rhadebe Omni-Chic Hotel account was theirs.

Lazola had informed Robert while on the golf course with him. Robert had been ecstatic when sharing the good news with her, along with hints about her deserving permanent promotion. And now they were all at an upmarket bar, enjoying their success.

“You don't look all that chipper, considering you're the hero of the moment.” Thulani, their webmaster, was grinning down at her.

Langa forced a smile. “I am happy. This is a truly great account to have landed.”

“Okay. Well, in my culture, we laugh, drink and dance when we're happy. How about it? One song?”

Langa allowed him to take her hand simply because it was easier than arguing with him. As they moved together on the dance floor, she looked around at the bright faces of her colleagues. Ladies sipped on cocktails and chatted, while the men slapped each other on the back and traded humorous stories. There was a wonderful mood all around.

Langa remembered her joy when Robert had first shared the news. Two minutes of pure elation. She'd shrieked and hugged him on impulse, laughing at the surprise in his eyes. He'd congratulated her and told her that the achievement would be celebrated soon.

But after he'd walked out a thought had hit Langa, one that had wiped away her smile. Lazola had accused her of using sex to try and land the account. He'd also hinted at giving her the account simply so she'd complete what she'd started with him that night.

Was that what he was doing? Did he believe her to be the best for the job – or was he merely trying to get her into bed?

Langa sniffed angrily. Regardless of Lazola's reason for hiring her, she would still deliver the best damn campaign he'd ever seen. If he currently thought her to be an incompetent pushover, she would make sure she changed his opinion of her.

* * *

Langa still couldn't believe how exciting her job had become. Working on the Rhadebe Hotel account was turning into a learning experience she found she enjoyed very much. She met with Lazola in the first week of May and he filled her in on the development status of the hotel.

He started out detached until she spent an extra hour discussing European trends she thought would work in the ROCH if implemented with a proudly South African influence. Detachment turned to admiration as she asked him intricate questions that went beyond the scope of marketing.

“And how do you see our concierges raising the service bar?” Lazola asked, intrigued.

“We market them as one of the highlights of the luxury packages,” she responded. “They'll be more than dressed-up door-openers – they'll be advisors, providing inside-track local information. Visiting art collectors or wine connoisseurs can be given the Mzansi experience without fuss. Business, property or cuisine, the concierge best suited to your interests will be here to enhance the quality of your visit. Foreign guests would be drawn to the convenience. And in the future, this might grow into a set of in-house staff, like curators, an internal museum, interior designers . . .”

“I like that.”

Langa couldn't contain her smile.

* * *

When a national drive started the following month, urging everyone to give back to their communities by making a difference on Mandela Day, it gave Langa an idea. She put it to Lazola and he approved it without hesitation. And so radio and newspaper advertising went out under the ROCH name, adverts calling for students nationwide to apply, not only for financial aid, but internship programmes at the new hotel.

The list of those eligible for consideration included students focused on hospitality, tourism, marketing and finance. Thousands of entries poured in and Lazola appointed a full-time team from his staff to work through them. By Mandela Day, Langa had the names of sixty-seven students. The roch committed to paying their fees for the year and scheduled internship programmes to be completed over the summer months.

Langa found her workload increasing as the weeks rolled on and the Sandton ROCH neared completion. Thomas Miller phoned her one particularly icy July afternoon.

“Langa, I was hoping we could set up a time for you to come take a tour of the ROCH's entertainment hall. We're ready to set preparations in motion for the launch.”

“Of course,” she responded.

“I know this is short notice, but how about tomorrow morning?”

Langa paused in surprise, but recovered quickly. “I'll be there.”

Although the ROCH was not yet open for public business, Lazola used it as his head office, which meant a skeleton staff was permanently on duty. The cheerful redhead Langa had encountered on her first visit was one of the people at the reception desk when she arrived for her meeting with Mr Miller.

She chatted animatedly as she led Langa to one of the ground-floor lounges. The sight of Lazola Rhadebe rising from a leather armchair was a flustering surprise.

He shook her hand briefly. “Glad you could make it on such short notice. My schedule gets very difficult to predict at times. Thomas has been greatly impressed by your launch ideas.”

Langa clutched at the strap of her handbag. “I thought I'd be meeting with him today.”

“No. I wanted to see for myself what all his hype was about.”

“Alright then. I'm glad to be getting this time with you.”

“Are you?” he frowned sceptically.

“Of course. I have pages of notes and questions I can't wait to put to you now that the hotel is nearly ready.”