Niobia Bryant - A Billionaire Affair

After a full day of work topped with his evening flight to and from Paris just to attend a charity event at the Pavillon d’Armenonville, his muscles felt weak with fatigue—a rarity for him. He was strong and fit and thrived on challenge. Still, he was human and required even minimal rest.

Striding across the stylishly appointed lobby, the soles of his handmade Italian shoes beat against the marble floors as he made his way to the elevators. He entered his private code for the elevator to go to the penthouse and rode in silence. As he stood there with his legs apart and his hands behind his back, he flexed his shoulders and rolled his head to relieve the slight strain of tension he felt. He paused when he caught sight of his reflection against the bronze of the double doors.

He did a double take and then chuckled a bit. Earlier that night one of the waitresses shared with him that he should audition to be the first black James Bond. He was nearly 100 percent sure she thought he was Idris Elba. He didn’t know whether to be flattered by that or insulted that he was the honoree at the very event where she worked and she had no clue who he was. That was a first in the circles in which he moved.

The doors of the elevators opened directly into his apartment; he removed his white dinner jacket and folded it over the back of one of the four modern charcoal sofas in his expansive living room.

“Your drink, sir.”

Alek turned away from the view of the London cityscape to find his loyal manservant, Huntsman, still very much awake, dressed in customary black on black attire and ready to serve. With a smile, he accepted the snifter of brandy from the small wooden tray held by the bald middle-aged man. The warmed crystal felt good in his hand as he swirled the alcohol and took a small sniff of the aromas released by the heating of the glass before taking a satisfying sip.

Over the rim of the glass, he looked out at the sight of Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament in the distance. At night, he often found himself standing there in front of his windows enjoying the sight.

To think there was a time when none of it mattered to him. Simplicity had been key.

With a smirk, he looked around at his lavish surroundings. Everything had changed, and sometimes he wasn’t sure it was for the better. With a slight clench of his square jaw, Alek focused on his six-foot reflection, letting the cityscape laid out before him blur as he did.

Sometimes he felt he hardly knew the man in the reflection.

“Big day tomorrow, sir.”

With another sip, Alek glanced over his shoulder to find that Huntsman had never moved from his spot, the serving tray still in his hand. “Very,” he agreed, curving his lips into a smile.

Huntsman chuckled.

The two had been officially employer and employee over the last fifteen of Alek’s thirty years of life, but they had a friendship and a mutual respect that extended beyond a work relationship and their twenty-year age difference. Huntsman knew almost everything about Alek’s life and pretended to turn a blind eye to his jet-setting ways filled with a string of beautiful women that gave the international paparazzi plenty on which to report. It was well documented that Alek Ansah worked hard, but he played just as hard.

Still, Huntsman was very aware of Alek’s inner struggles, and he knew Alek’s imminent return to New York was a mixed blessing.

“Your luggage and travel arrangements are prepared. Are you?” Huntsman asked, stepping up to stand beside him.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Alek asked, and took another deep sip.

“No, sir, you do not.”

In the morning, Alek would return to the corporate headquarters of the Ansah Dalmount Group in New York to officially claim his position as the cochairman of the billion-dollar conglomerate. He was fulfilling the wishes of his father, Kwame Ansah, and not his own. “You won, Dad,” he mouthed as he lifted his snifter in a toast and looked up to the heavens with a small sardonic shake of his head, as a wave of grief caused his gut to clench.

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.