Five-star Seduction

To my parents and KG, who taught me that love in any mould is magnificent.

1

“How the hell did you get my direct number?” came the petrifying bark.

Langa took a breath. She was no novice when it came to cold-calling and sourcing new clientele for the marketing and branding company at which she worked. She'd been working in the industry for six of her twenty-eight years and was brilliant at her job – hence her title: Acting Head of Marketing.

Not unheard of for someone as young as she, but definitely rare. Permanent promotion to the position was the goal currently in her sights, so she stilled the quiver in her hands and concentrated on impressing her latest target.

“Mr Rhadebe, you're speaking to Langalethu Cima at McMann Marketing. I understand that you're a busy man, and I have no intention of keeping you. All I ask is that you give me a few minutes of your time . . .”

She had been working on some undeniably fascinating concepts for the launch and branding of his new luxury hotel – but first she needed to land an appointment to pitch them. One appointment should not be impossible. All she needed to do was catch his attention – and ignore the warm shivers that trickled down her spine at his deep, smooth voice.

“Miss Cima, you seem to know a lot about me. I don't know how and, quite frankly, I don't care. What I need
you
to know is that I already have my own brand management people. I am very happy with them and have no wish to replace them with an overambitious girl, out of her league and easily overwhelmed.”

She had no idea Lazola Rhadebe would turn out to be a complete beast. Sure, it must have taken incredible intelligence and brutal focus for him to have achieved the successes that he'd had as a property developer and investor. Very few earn the reputation of being the multimillionaire business mind to watch by age thirty-six, but Langa firmly believed that there was always room for good manners.

“You don't know me, and you have no idea what you're up against, mister.” She was disturbed by the aggression in her hiss, but couldn't seem to stop herself. “Do yourself and your hotel a favour and meet with me. Give me your best shot; I'd love to see you try to overwhelm me. I have a branding concept that will knock the socks off you, your team and any archaic advertising gimmick they may have slapped together. Sir.”

Not the advised route to take when trying to make important business connections, but it turned out to be just the attitude to silence Mr Rhadebe and catch his interest. Ten minutes later Langa let out a hushed huff as she made a note of the lunch date she'd secured. One week from Monday.

She wasn't nervous about proving her competence, though she had been shaken by the threat he had issued just before hanging up.

“I will give you one hour, Miss Cima. You had better make bloody sure you impress me, or you will never work a major contract in this city again. One hour.”

Langa sat staring at the receiver in her hand. What had she gotten herself into? She snapped up her head at the light knock at her office door. The MD, Robert McMann, stuck in his head. “Still here, Langa? It's Friday, it's five o'clock. Go home.”

Langa sighed and replaced the silent receiver.

* * *

“You have to get here immediately! She said we could pick out her dress without any interference from her prissy self. And she's springing for the designer stuff!”

Langa scowled. Angela was screeching into her cellphone as if she believed the highest possible decibels would teleport Noluvuyo over. The three of them had been friends since high school – remarkable when considering how different they were.

“Drop everything. We're going to treat Langa to a day she'll never forget!”

Angela's blonde ponytail gleamed and her manicured nails tapped excitedly at a to-do list that had materialised out of thin air the moment Langa had given permission for her two closest friends to prepare her for the Johannesburg Media Mix that night. She needed to make an unforgettable impression on the important people she would be meeting; and since most of them were men, it meant catching their eyes before ensnaring their minds.

“We need to move immediately if we're to be done by tonight. I have a lot planned for our girl.”

Angela was very good at pulling a glamorous swan out of an ugly duckling's hat. She owned an exclusive beauty parlour and adored her trips to her shockingly expensive hairdresser. Langa did not even know where the nearest spa was and she wore her long hair completely natural.

Langa took in Angela's silk blouse and tailored pants, then looked down at her own outfit. Faded jeans and a T-shirt. She definitely needed all the help her friends had to offer. Her no-nonsense business suits could only ever take her so far. And that was no way to impress the likes of Lazola Rhadebe.

Langa blinked wide-eyed. Why was she suddenly thinking of that irritating man? So what if he exuded a power impossible to overlook? Her mind was wandering. She noticed Angela animatedly snapping her fingers at her as if encouraging an untrained puppy.

“Okay, Vuvu's meeting us there, so we need to skedaddle. We have four hours to find what we need, then lunch, then I'm taking you to my shop. Thank goodness you're a hottie already, so we shouldn't need to do too much. I can't wait to see how long your hair will be once it's relaxed!”

“What? No, I'm not treating my hair.”

Her friend halted. “I thought you wanted a whole new look, Lang.”

“I do, but relaxing my hair is more than I'm willing to commit to,” Langa replied. “I'd have to find a hairdresser I like, go there every week or two, and give up hours I could spend on a pastime I enjoy. Like work. I just don't see myself getting that right.”

Angela scrunched her nose for a moment. “Fair enough. Would you let Nandi wash and blow it out for tonight, though? You'll feel like a princess when she's done styling it.”

“Sure. So long as I can go back to my Afro afterwards.”

“Deal. By the way, I told Vuvu that we couldn't stop for a pizza lunch – please back me up on this. You cannot load yourself with grease and junk. Not today.”

Langa sighed, took her bag from Angela's outstretched hand and followed her to the door. “Alright, no grease. But why do we need four hours to buy one dress? It would've taken me thirty minutes on my own.”

Angela's grey eyes shot out something akin to pity. “I know, sweetie. I know.”

* * *

By the fifth designer boutique, Langa was praying for an act of nature to intervene. Angela on a mission was something spectacular to behold. Three hours had vanished into thin air and the blonde beautician still hadn't seen anything that impressed her. Noluvuyo had spent the entire morning alternating between laughing at Langa's impatience and baring her teeth threateningly whenever Langa suggested calling it quits.

The fifth shop assistant of the day was happily getting every dress Angela pointed out in Langa's size. Four designs in total. Each selection was more daring than the last and Langa started worrying about what was to come if they were to leave this shop unsatisfied.

Fortunately, that never happened. Angela squealed and clapped her hands when Vuvu drew back the dressing room curtain and stepped aside to allow Langa through. The first dress out of the four was clearly her winner.

“No way. Forget it.” Langa lifted her chin and prepared herself for battle.

“But why, sweetie?”

“It exposes far too much for my liking. How will anyone take me seriously, looking like this?”

“Gorgeous and sophisticated, you mean? It's
perfect
.”

“It's non-existent, is what it is, Ang. Goodness, I've blown my nose on tissues bigger than this.”

“Oh, quit exaggerating; it's a
floor-length
gown!”

And that was exactly what Langa could not comprehend. Angela was right about the length of the dress, and yet Langa felt uncomfortably exposed. How did the designer manage to create a dress that went from her shoulders to her toes without actually covering much? Delicate straps ran like a newly spun web, interlacing all the way down her back. Her front was moulded by the dreamiest of silks, which she couldn't fully savour due to the angst brought on by the V that plummeted between her breasts and stopped mere centimetres above her navel.

She gasped in outrage as a thigh-high slit revealed a toned leg with every step she took. The material was the colour of an African sunset in summer; somewhere between champagne-pink and molten lava, between fire and gold. She did not realise the vision she presented as her caramel skin glowed, as if awakened by the hues of the silk.

Vuvu whistled. “If you're not taking it, can I have it? I've been single for way too long and that dress would be the perfect cure for all my problems.”

“No, you can't,” Angela huffed. “Langa needs it more than you do.”

Langa was indignant. “Excuse me, but I'm going to a business function. Not a find-me-a-husband convention. Besides, my love life doesn't need any help.”

Angela's brows lifted at that, but it was Vuvu who spoke first. “What love life, sisi?”

* * *

Once inside, Langa leaned against her front door and sighed. Home at last. Angela and Noluvuyo had not been joking when they'd said it would take all day to prepare for her big night.

Whatever happened to the simple meetings and expos of old? she wondered. Where were the days of concise gatherings in business environments that required no more than a well-cut suit and sharp business sense?

She eyed the fruits of her day. She was amazed that it took that many beautifully wrapped parcels to put together one outfit. After the dress boutique, they had gone to a lingerie shop that had made Langa's cheeks flush. There Vuvu had helped her pick out three sets of indecent underwear, before cheekily pointing out that her dress would definitely have to be worn sans bra.

She checked her watch: an hour and a half to go. She decided to get ready before second thoughts regarding her outfit killed her wavering resolve.

She went to run herself a bath. She opened the packet from Angela's beauty shop and added the bath oils. Ginger and vanilla; the scent was unusual in a refreshing way. Once in the water, she lay back and closed her eyes.

No project would affect her future as much as her pitch to Lazola Rhadebe would, this was a concrete fact. Langa smoothed the oil-softened water across her skin and remembered the way his voice had roughened when she'd challenged him. Her breath caught as she tried to imagine what he might sound like during other moments of passion.

She quickly rose and drained her bath. Now was not the time for such silly thoughts. She had secured her appointment with a man notorious for protecting his privacy and obliterating anyone who served him mediocrity. The first hurdle had been crossed. Blowing his expectations out of the water was next.

After dressing, she put her make-up on the way Angela had shown her. Finally, she completed her outfit with simple gold heels, her watch and dazzling earrings. A quick spray of perfume and she headed for the door without even glancing in the mirror to see the end result.

* * *

“Ready to mingle?”

Ben Nkosi was her top advertising accounts executive; asking him to accompany her to the Media Mix had been an obvious choice. Not only would he make the perfect networking partner, he was also easy-going company. He had a quick mind and a winning personality – the perfect combination for an occasion such as this. So Langa had no problem linking a slender arm through his and entering the banquet hall at The Adonis with a smile.

Her smile almost slipped when she saw all the guests. There had to be at least three hundred people, and it felt as if everyone turned to watch them enter. Ben led her to a couple of advertising producers, both of whom she knew.

Soon she felt calm enough to look around and really take everything in. Her brown eyes scanned the large room, settling on one particular man. He was talking to a group of men over whom he practically towered.

You're staring.

The thought registered faintly in the back of her mind, but she simply could not turn away.

Obviously I'm staring. He's gorgeous.

His skin was dark and his shoulders were broad. But his lips were the main source of her interest. They were so full, yet firm. A contradiction that had her wondering what his kisses would be like. Gentle and generous? Or powerful and demanding? Could they contain a bit of everything?

Langa berated herself for her girlish fancy. Of all the times and places to start adolescent fantasies, this was the least convenient. She smiled. It would not do to allow herself to be distracted tonight, no matter how beautiful the man.

At that very moment, as if sensing her gaze, he looked up and right at her. Her secretive smile froze in place as her heart slammed in her chest. She found herself unable to move as his intense eyes took in her straightened hair, intricately piled up high, and then drifted down her body. Pure sexual intent heated his expression. Her silk dress shimmered as she trembled.

The arrogance of the man! To blatantly strip me like that!

She felt as if she were being caressed from afar and a tingle rose up the back of her neck. She told herself it was anger. The oaf did not care that she was watching him, nor that they were in a public place. She could feel the shock of his focus on her and goosebumps broke out along her bare arms.

“Langa, you sexy thing!”

She jumped. It was Jess Rosen, the owner of a casting agency. Jess was loud, brash and thoroughly entertaining.

Langa put her hand to her throat in an attempt to calm her uneven breathing.

“Jess. It's so good to see you.”

“You waltzed in here, looking like something straight off the glamour pages! I want to know
where
you've been. And who's that dish you arrived with?”

“Ben? Oh no, Ben's . . . He's a colleague of mine.”

Thankfully, Jess didn't seem to notice her flustered state and soon started talking about work and acquaintances they had in common.