Owned: An Alpha Anthology (13 page)

DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY

12 - Brooklyn

Damn, I was in trouble. I didn’t know anything about dressing up for formal occasions. If I’d attended them, it was as a waitress to earn extra money, not as a guest. I had no idea how it’d feel to be on the other side.

Cassidy
—she’d know. That bitch had a black belt in shopping. I dialed her number. She picked up within two rings.

"Hey honey, what’s up?" she greeted me in her usual cheery voice.

"Hey Cass. Listen, if ever I needed your mad skills, it's today. Can you come up to Fifth Avenue in the next hour and help me buy a dress for a thing I need to go to tonight?"

"What thing? I need specifics, hon. And of course I’ll come—I changed my nail polish for the third time this week because I’m bored here without you."

Shopping was my best friend’s forte. She needed to find a damn job, and soon, but today I was grateful that she was available.

I laughed. "Meet me in front of Tiffany’s in an hour? I've just left the office. I’ll fill you in when we meet. I need to look hot, Cass. I'm hoping you can help me achieve that in a few hours." If anyone could pull off a makeover, it was Cassidy.

"It helps that I have a smoking blank canvas to work with. But who’s paying for this? We don’t have the money."

As if
I
needed a reminder.
"Get your ass down here. I have a company credit card to melt."

She sucked in a breath, and then giggled.
Oh Lord—here comes more trouble
. This woman could write a book titled
Shopping 101
.

Tyler Sinclair didn’t know it, but he’d made one of my dreams come true. Already, I liked him a tiny bit more.

Cassidy was five minutes early, all dressed to the nines herself. I cocked an eyebrow at her, grimacing. Was she trying to make me look bad in my department-store outfit?

"Hey, hon, you look nice," I greeted her with a smile. "Ready?"

"Let's get a coffee first, so we can go over our game plan. The reason I dressed up in designer-ware was to show the shopping assistants that we’re serious customers, not window shoppers. That way they’ll treat us with respect and not go all
Pretty Woman
on us."

She was a smart cookie. I laughed at her logic, admitting that it made perfect sense. We went to the closest Starbucks and ordered our skinny lattes. Minutes later, we were sitting across from one another and I told her all about the party. She frowned when I told her emphatically that it wasn’t a date.

"He’ll change his mind when he picks you up tonight and sees what I’ve done with you. He’ll be fighting off other guys, and be proud to introduce you as his date." She grinned, confident that she’d help me pull it off.

"I have my doubts—clothing alone doesn’t make a person. What if they see right through me?" Panic pushed up my chest, heating my body from the inside.

Cass nodded. "Exactly, darling. It’s what’s
inside
that counts. And you have what it takes, babe. You’re sexy and smart. You have sass in spades. Don’t doubt yourself, okay?"

Tears welled up behind my eyelids and my throat thickened, so I only managed a nod.

She handed me a tube of lipstick. It was her favorite high-end brand, and I knew she’d have to use it sparingly for it to last until she could afford another one. I blinked a few times as I took it from her. A wide grin spread over her face. "Apply this red lipstick, and twist your hair up into a bun. When we walk into a store, you’ve got to behave as if you own that shit. Got it?"

Holy hell. Good thing I asked her along. The snooty type of shop assistant would’ve given me one look and probably ignored me, even though I had money to burn. I had a lot to learn from Cassidy on how to act as if I'd grown up with money. Maybe some of her natural charm could rub off on me too.

I did as she instructed. She slipped off her Louboutins and handed them to me. "Wear these. When they see the red soles, they won’t even look at the rest of your outfit. You’ll pass their test."

I could have hugged her right there if I wasn’t so flustered. We exchanged shoes. Hers were slightly loose on my foot, but I could work it.
God, I loved this woman
. How many other people would do this for me?

"I'm ready when you are," I said, emulating her confidence, even though I didn’t feel it.
Fake it till you make it
. Mum had always drummed that idea into me, and today I was putting the theory to the test.

Two and a half hours later and with shopping bags from the big-name stores in my sweaty palms, I smiled as Cassidy hailed a taxi. "There’s no way in hell we’re catching public transport with all these bags. Taxis take credit cards too." She winked at me. She was right—after the amount of money we’d spent in a mere few hours, another fifty dollars was hardly going to matter.

Sitting in the back of the taxi, I felt sick to the stomach as I went through the receipts. Good Lord, a month’s wage on one dress, shoes and a handbag, made my head spin. But Cass had assured me it was completely normal, and pointed out that we’d saved the firm money by choosing a clutch purse from last season’s collection that was marked down.

I couldn’t help laughing at her reasoning. If only I could be more like her—have her breeding and class. Some sort of pedigree. I'd never been ashamed of how I’d been raised, but this experience had opened my eyes to a whole new world. One I'd hardly been aware of until today.

"As soon as we get to the apartment, I'm going to give you a facial and do your hair. Mr. Debonair won’t believe his fucking eyes." She grinned from ear to ear, her eyes glimmering.

I looked at my watch. "We only have an hour and a half, and I still need to shower."

"That’s plenty of time. You can relax with a glass of wine while I do the work. Mother always says it's important to be well rested before facing people at a party—and she should know. She’s the queen of her social circle in Sydney." Cassidy frowned. "I never thought the stuff she taught me would be useful some day. Shows how little we know sometimes."

"Alright . . . I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing. And I promise to look after the diamond jewelry you’re lending me." I crushed her hand in mine. "Honey, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years. Thanks for everything—especially for believing in me. It really means a lot."

It was her turn to blink fast and pretend she had something in her eye.

DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY

13 - Tyler

Hoping like hell that Miss Bennett had got it right and that she wouldn’t disgrace me tonight, I chewed the inside of my cheek as I drove to the address she’d scribbled on a piece of paper. I should’ve asked Ms. Oakes, or someone familiar with New York and the social standards of high society to accompany her shopping. The joke would be on me if she melted the credit card yet was still dressed inappropriately.

What if she looked fucking awful? Dressed all wrong for the occasion? I'd only seen her in conservative office-wear—nothing flash or exciting, except for the tightness of her pencil skirts that accentuated her perky ass. And when I’d suggested she dress sexy, I didn’t mean trashy. And fuck, I hoped she hadn’t gone overboard with the makeup, either—it made women look slutty, in my opinion.

Following the GPS, I drove further out of the city until the traffic thinned. I looked at my watch. I'd know in ten minutes if I were going to cringe and wish I'd never asked her or whether I’d be pleasantly surprised. I hoped for the latter because I was looking forward to spending an evening with Brooklyn Bennett outside the office. I had a feeling there was a lot to her that I’d only scratched the surface of.

              If the somewhat dorky and overachieving intern turned out to be a disappointment I’d send her home early in a taxi and work my way around the other guests. There was bound to be several new clients to charm and at least one beautiful woman who met my standards.

Humming to the tune playing on the stereo of my red Lamborghini, I sat waiting at a traffic light, thrumming my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music as I considered my other options.

These events weren’t without pitfalls—there were some women who were just a pain in the ass. Two in particular. Although I steered clear of attached women, Mrs. Williams was as keen as a horny virgin waiting to get her cherry popped and I knew she’d be chasing after me most of the evening as she’d done every other time I’d been around her. Dodging her was hard work. I didn’t want to piss her off, because she’d been one of my biggest admirers and I was aware that staying on her good side was important to my career advancement. Who you knew and who you screwed was the ‘secret’ to getting ahead in this business.

I sighed heavily. Mrs. Williams placed me in a precarious position. If I gave her what she wanted and screwed her to get to the top and my boss found out, I was dead. Career terminated. But, if I didn’t fuck her, she’d get pissed and possibly move on, championing some horny wannabe and helping him up the golden ladder of success.

Lately she’d been more obvious in her flirting, insinuating that she was waiting for her reward for putting in a good word to her husband to help me move up to the new office after her father, senior partner McAdams, keeled over from a heart attack a month ago. "New blood" she’d said, would help transform the stale image of the firm. And since she’d inherited her old man’s shares in the company, she could outvote her husband in a board meeting anyway.

I pulled at the collar of my shirt. It irked me that getting to the ivory tower by merit alone was nearly impossible and that I had to resort to such measures as pretending I was remotely interested in her.

There was also Samantha. I frowned. Sidestepping The Brat tonight at her daddy’s party was going to be as tricky as avoiding her mother. She kind of thought she owned me already because I'd screwed her. Next thing, she’d assume I was going to fucking marry her. Big mistake.

As a kid I’d already decided that I never wanted what happened to my old man to happen to me. I was never getting married. Nor was I having kids.

Not in this lifetime
.

I didn’t have the time for a wife, or the inclination to be stuck with one person for the rest of my life. Variety was what I enjoyed—every new pussy a challenge. Risk had its rewards, and nowhere was it more adrenaline-spiking than when it came to bedding some of the most beautiful women in high society.

Five minutes later, I pulled up outside a three-story apartment block, surprised at its neatness, in spite of being in a rather suspect neighborhood. I checked my hair in the mirror—yep, still looking good. Somewhat apprehensive at leaving the Red Beast in the street, I hoped Miss Bennett was ready and waiting.

Deciding to wait on the sidewalk so that I could keep an eye on my beauty, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I'd slaved fucking hours to afford her, working my ass off night after night until she became mine. There was nothing I loved more than her purr—if the car were a woman, I'd have a constant hard-on for her. I wasn’t risking some jealous fucker keying the side of my car or worse, stealing her in the time it would take me to go up to fetch Miss Bennett.

Scrolling through my contacts list, I found Brooklyn Bennett’s number and dialed. It rang for some time before she answered. Christ, I hoped she was ready—Old Man Williams was short-tempered, and I didn’t need to attract his displeasure. Sometimes I actually felt sorry for his wife—he wasn’t an easy man to please.

Before the phone rang out, a female voice answered. It didn’t sound like Brooklyn, although the accent was also Australian.

"Brooklyn’s phone. Can I help you?" she said breathlessly.

"Hey, Brooklyn’s phone. Tyler Sinclair. I'm waiting downstairs. Can you please ask her to meet me here?"

"Um . . . you’re not being a gentleman and coming upstairs to fetch her?"

"Well . . . uh, this neighborhood is sketchy, and I can't leave my car. Please ask her to come down. We need to leave."

She sighed into the phone, "Okay. But . . . you make sure you see her to the door when you bring her home, or there will be hell. I don’t want to read about it in the papers in the morning."

"Okay. Deal. Send her down." I leaned against the car, arms and legs crossed, thrumming my fingers on my biceps. I hated waiting for anything. Five minutes ticked by and still nothing. I pulled at the collar of my shirt, heat rising in my body.

What was Brooklyn doing? Images of her busy dressing flashed through my mind. Pulling stockings up and fastening them to a suspender belt, her tits peeling over the cups of her bra as she leaned forward. And her ass . . . silky skin covered by lace. My dick twitched. I imagined her fingers sweeping across her smooth pussy, dipping into her warmth and massaging her clit while she bit into her bottom lip.

Humming softly, I imagined the noises she’d make when she orgasmed, her raspy voice moaning and growing louder as she neared her ultimate moment of pleasure, calling out my name on a wispy breath as her body shuddered.

I wiped over my brow, my face warm from the images in my head—her licking over parched lips, eyes closed and with an orgasmic afterglow covering her skin. I bet she was beautiful when she came. And if she wore her glasses, that’d be even sexier. Uncomfortable, my throbbing dick tenting my pants, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other.

What I wouldn’t give to watch her while she pleasured herself. When she was done, it would be my turn—I’d love to fuck Ms. Bennett while she wore nothing other than her glasses and a suspender belt, her tits bouncing in my face.

Maybe I should’ve gone up to find out what was going on. Yeah, maybe—

Jolted from my thoughts by a ringing phone, I checked the screen.
Brooklyn Bennett.
Fuck. I reached down and adjusted my cock in the tightened pants. I scowled as I answered, unable to settle my erection.

"Yes? We’re running late. This better be damn good." If she hadn’t left me standing there all this time, I wouldn’t have this fucking problem. Her raspy voice was the same as the one I imagined moments ago. I suppressed a groan as I massaged my cock with the heel of my palm, willing it to go down.

"I'm not coming. Sorry. If you leave now you should be on time."

What? Nobody said "no" to Tyler Sinclair.
My dick went limp in ten seconds flat.

"Unless you’re bleeding from an accident or something similar, get your ass down here. I'm not a patient man."

"Did you not hear what I just said? I'm not coming," she huffed. The raspy sexy voice had made way for an exasperated tone.

Was this a fucking challenge?

I gritted my teeth. The clock was ticking. I didn’t have time for this bullshit. "Don’t test me, woman. And don’t make me come up those stairs to drag you down with me. I drove out here to get you, so you’re coming."

Unless she looked hideous and this was her way to spare me the embarrassment.

Her friend’s voice spoke in my ear. "Hang on. Since you won’t come up, guess I'll have to push her out the door." I heard her curse under her breath. "She’s shy. Be fucking nice to her or I’ll have to come for your balls. Got me, Mr. Deb . . . Sinclair?"  I swear she growled.
Jesus
. I didn’t want to be on her bad side. The Bull Terrier would rip me to shreds.

Shy?
She couldn’t be referring to the woman I’d had in my office the past few days—she was confident and assured in the way people were when they knew they were good at what they did.

"Of course." I moved toward the stairwell. If she wasn’t coming down, I was going up to find out what this was all about.

"You owe me."

The call ended and I waited at the bottom of the stairs. This was doing my fucking head in. Exactly why I never wanted a permanent woman in my life. Too much fucking trouble. I’d never understand them.

Shaking my head, I adjusted my cufflinks. Bull Terrier’s words replayed through my mind. If it were true that Brooklyn was shy, I was being a dick to not go up to her door.

Flashes of my mother’s words played in my head:
Always act like a gentleman, Tyler. Girls like that.
I could just imagine Mom’s frown if she saw me standing there. Taking two stairs at a time, I bolted up toward the first floor.

It was too late. Halfway up, as I reached the landing and rounded the corner to the second flight of steps, I only had enough time to register long gleaming legs in fuck-me heels before screeching to a halt.

Dewy lips quivered as she kept her eyes down, watching her steps, unaware that we were about to collide. My heart pumped my blood thick and fast through my veins and I sucked in a sharp breath.

I had a split second to take her in before she heard me. Brooklyn was a vision of perfection. Without her glasses, she wore just the right amount of makeup to enhance her loveliness. Her hair, stacked high on top of her head with loose tendrils around her face, was like a fucking halo.

She was breathtakingly beautiful.

My jaw dropped. Holy fuck.

Golden Girl.

"Brooklyn."

Her head shot up, her baby blues wide as they collided with mine. She missed the second last step and lost her balance, hurling forward straight into my arms. I grabbed hold of her, smiling  as her perfume hit my nostrils.

She was even more beautiful up close.