Owned: An Alpha Anthology Part 9

Thank you for inspiring me, for believing in me and for always trusting in me.

You never fail to make me smile and feel good about life. When I count my blessings, I count you twice if not more. You are the best daughter any mother could wish for.

Follow your dreams, believe in yourself and never settle for less.

I love you to the moon and back.

Always.

DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY.

1 - Tyler Chase Spencer sauntered into my impressive new office to give his nod of approval. He whistled as he ran a hand over the back of the new furniture that had only arrived that morning. "f.u.c.k, you've gone all out this time, Sinclair. Red leather?"

"Only the best will do, old chap." I mocked, pleased that my eclectic taste impressed him.

Spencer, my supposed best friend-in reality my prime rival-five years my senior at the firm and the occupant of the other corner office, knew me better than anyone else. It wasn't necessarily a good thing.

He opened the drawer of the side table closest to the sofa and inspected the contents.

"Even new toys." Spencer marveled as he ran the soft leather strings of the flogger through his fingers then smacked it against the leather armrest. He quirked an eyebrow. "Anyone in mind?" He examined the rest of the items in the drawer, then s.h.i.+fted his gaze to mine waiting for an answer.

I chuckled softly. I was a man who liked new things-old bored me. I worked hard and I played even harder. I took my rewards without apology.

"Yeah. The redhead. Ms. Oaks has a banging body." I grinned, imagining her bent over the couch.

Spencer grinned. "Mind if I join you? I've wanted to smack that a.s.s since I first laid eyes on her."

"You mean you haven't yet?" I narrowed my eyes as I studied him, then nodded. "Sure. I'll give you a call when I have her set up."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Good. I'll be waiting. It's been a while."

"It'll be soon." I smiled as visions of the possibilities ran through my mind.

Chase and I had done a few threesomes before. It added to the smorgasbord of delights to be had. Even though I'd only met her two days ago, the redhead seemed capable of handling the pair of us. The luxurious office was designed for work and fun, and I looked forward to begin this new chapter of my life as an executive.

"Congrats on making it to the top floor." He sounded sincere although he didn't extend his arm to shake my hand.

I nodded, a wry smile twisting the corners of my lips. "Thanks. Wasn't always easy." That's a f.u.c.king understatement.

For eleven years I'd slogged my a.s.s off at McAdams & Williams Investments, the best brokerage firm on Wall Street, working ridiculous hours so I could climb the ladder rapidly.

This was it. Spencer and I were in the final leg of the race-both of us gunning to make partner now that McAdams had died. I frowned. Chase's Ivy League education and tenure placed him in the lead, but that wasn't going to stop me. h.e.l.l no. If anything it spurred me on to work harder to reach my dream.

It took guts and determination, tenacity and b.a.l.l.s, and a generous dollop of wile and cunning mixed with ingenuity. All the ingredients I'd cultivated over the years, learning from the best of the best in the industry. I deserved every square inch of the plush office overlooking the Hudson River I'd moved into the day before.

To say I'd done it by hard work alone would be a lie. I'd used every trick in my a.r.s.enal to make my goal of ascending from junior to top management a reality. Some tactics used were less than honorable, but I did what I had to in order to taste success. Nothing and no-one would stand in my way of becoming the youngest partner this firm had seen in fifty years.

Spencer adjusted his tie. "Drinks in my office at six. We'll celebrate with a century old bottle of whiskey while we plot our futures together."

I rounded my desk and patted him on the shoulder while subtly walking him toward the door. "Make it seven and I'm there. I have a lot of s.h.i.+t to sort out first."

"You work too hard, Sinclair. You need to make more time to enjoy your success." Yeah, I'm sure you'd love for me to slack off so you can beat me to the post. Like h.e.l.l, buddy.

Straightening my back, I was tempted to push him out the door. Instead I simply smiled and said, "I plan to. Wait till you see my new baby."

"You bought a new car? f.u.c.k Sinclair, you aren't holding back, are you?" His eyes narrowed as he appraised me.

I laughed. "Why should I? I'm right on track with my five year plan. Next is making partner. Watch out, Spencer. You'd better pick up your game if you want to beat me to it."

"Nice try, Sinclair. You know old man Williams loves me."

Yes, but his wife and daughter like me.

Rubbing his hands together, he said, "If anyone makes partner this year, it'll be me."

I wanted to punch the self a.s.sured smirk right off his face. Glaring daggers at his back as he walked away, I cursed under my breath and closed the door.

The room pressed in on me, making it harder to breathe. How in h.e.l.l did I get stuck behind a desk swamped with paper, with a truckload of phone calls to make? This was the price to pay, and I missed the days of being on the floor where the action was, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Since the first day I'd started working on Wall Street as a junior, I'd wanted a corner office in the ivory tower. Exhaling a long breath, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river and Brooklyn Bridge and took in the spectacular views.

Is this enough? Somewhere inside, a gnawing emptiness ate at me.

"Ms. Oaks, I'm going out for lunch. Hold my calls," I barked into the phone as I grabbed my jacket off the hook. I need fresh air.

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair."

Over the years I'd made a lot of people rich, including myself. Tenacity and b.a.l.l.s of steel had gotten me here. Rarely did I leave my desk except to take a p.i.s.s or a meeting, but I had to get out. When last had I felt the sun on my skin or the wind in my hair? I arrived at the office in darkness and if I went home, it'd be after the sun had set. My tan was totally fake, because well . . . who had time to lie baking in the sun?

Everything I needed was right here. The fully-equipped gym one floor down saw me first thing in the mornings, where I did a full one-hour workout, plus five minutes under the UV lights, maintaining a healthy and fit body six days a week. It gave me the stamina to power through grueling fourteen-hour days with energy to spare, and a definite edge over my lazy co-workers who preferred to sleep those extra sixty minutes.

A joining private bathroom that led from my office afforded me the luxury of freshening up whenever I needed to, and I kept several spare changes of clothes in a purpose built cupboard in case I needed to go somewhere directly from the office.

The leather couches served a dual purpose: a place to sleep, and a place to f.u.c.k. Usually, I had women come straight to the office-it saved time and plenty of ha.s.sles. I'd f.u.c.ked on every conceivable s.p.a.ce in my old office, and I was eager to break this one in. The sooner the better. My b.a.l.l.s hadn't been emptied for thirteen days and counting-it made me cranky. Ms. Oaks would be the lucky first Executive Personal a.s.sistant to get a taste of my special brand of f.u.c.king.

My reputation had preceded me; women in the firm talked about my unusual preferences and voracious s.e.xual appet.i.te, and were eager to be included on my list, slipping their phone number or address to me. Sometimes they'd leave a key in an envelope on my desk, and even the redhead had given me the look since I moved to this floor two days ago.

Yep. Everything was perfect. Exactly the way I liked it. Efficient and effective. Running smoothly, like a well-oiled machine.

Then why couldn't I shake the restlessness that had come over me?

I picked up the birthday card on my desk. Today was my twenty-ninth birthday, yet the only person who bothered to send me a special message every year was Sister Tessa, who ran the boys' home I'd spent a part of my childhood in. I smiled wryly. Was it because she truly cared about me as a person, or because of the huge donation I made annually to the charitable inst.i.tution she ran? Without my support, St. Theresa's Boys' Home would've closed years ago. The place wasn't much, but it was a h.e.l.l of a lot better than some of the other options left to orphaned or troubled youngsters.

Opening the desk drawer, I shoved the card in and closed it. I hate birthdays.

I closed the office door behind me and glared at the fifty-something-year-old woman sitting behind the desk in the reception area. Where the h.e.l.l was the s.e.xy redhead? "Get Ms. Oaks back here by the time I return." The older woman's mouth formed an O as she registered my disapproval, and she nodded as she lowered her eyes.

Thrumming my fingers on my bicep, I waited for the elevator to arrive. The muscles in my neck were bunched up and I would kill for a Chinese ma.s.sage. The doors opened and I stepped inside, keen to get out of the building. I rode the car down for several floors before it stopped and two young interns stepped in, blabbering excitedly about their dates the previous evening while peering at me from under their lashes. The tall blonde blushed when I smiled and winked at her, yet she kept her gaze on me. She had a cute smile and huge b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but she was far too young for me. I liked my women experienced. I wasn't into breaking in virginal types.

"Ladies," I greeted as I waited for them to get out on the ground floor. I headed toward the revolving doors and made my escape to smog-filled New York air. I blinked at the bright sunlight, and cursed under my breath that I'd forgotten my sungla.s.ses, left in my car.

Taking a left turn, I walked down Wall Street toward the park. The aroma of hotdogs filled my nostrils and I queued at the street vendor's cart, salivating as I waited my turn. I never ate junk food, and I'd not bought food from street vendors since I started working as a stockbroker at one of the most prestigious firms in the world.

But today, a strange nostalgia had hit me, and I longed for the simple things that once were a luxury. I knew why. Besides being my birthday, it was also the anniversary of the day my mother had left my old man and me. That was twenty-two years ago, but it still messed with my f.u.c.king head as if it happened yesterday.

DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY.

2 - Brooklyn I had mixed feelings about New York. Part of me loved the relentless pace and never-ending stream of people milling around. I could smell the ambition in the air. It both excited and frightened the h.e.l.l out of me.

"Rub his b.a.l.l.s, Brooklyn." Ca.s.sidy laughed as she pointed the camera at me and clicked. It was finally my turn to be photographed with the raging golden bull, the one New York icon I'd been dying to see and touch since I was a kid.

"My, what big nuts he has." I laughed as I placed my hand under his b.a.l.l.s and enjoyed my fifteen seconds in the spotlight.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed a man standing tall between the shorts and T-s.h.i.+rt brigade, holding up his phone and directing it at me. My gaze honed in on him. Surely not? Why would a stranger take a picture of me? Granted, it was tourist season, and a three-person deep crowd mobbed the statue, but he didn't look like a tourist at all. In spite of the warm weather, he was dressed in a charcoal suit, which fitted his body as if it were tailored specially for him.

He was drop-dead gorgeous. Our eyes locked over the crowd and a few moments later, I found myself sucked into his green orbs. His heart-stopping grin warmed my insides to my toes and sent my heart beating madly. Heat rose to my cheeks as the seconds ticked by and neither of us broke contact. This was insane. As if a magnet were pulling me toward him. My mouth went dry and I swallowed hard. He raised an eyebrow and snapped another picture of me holding the bull's b.a.l.l.s.

What the h.e.l.l?

"Look this way, honey," Ca.s.sidy called out.

Forcing myself, I tore my eyes away and stared into Ca.s.sidy's camera instead. Was I simply imagining that he was ogling me with such interest?

"Work it, honey. Probably the only time you'll get to feel up a bull," Ca.s.sidy teased as she snapped away. Laughing, I focused my attention back on the metal bull and the camera, only too aware that the crowd was getting restless, letting me know that my time was up and it was their turn to be photographed.

A little freaked out and unable to stop myself, I stole a peek back in his direction.

He was gone.

I narrowed my eyes and scanned the crowd, panic sweeping through me as I realized I might never see him again. I searched further away, desperately hoping to catch another glimpse of the man who'd managed to capture my imagination with his lopsided grin and intense gaze.

Yep, definitely an overactive imagination. I'd been blessed with one of those. I put it down to only-child syndrome, always making up imaginary friends to chat with. Yet I couldn't shake the connection I'd felt to the stranger, even if it only lasted for a minute.

Disappointment washed over me. Where had he disappeared to so quickly?

"Imagine, in three days you'll be walking up Wall Street to start your new career. I'm so excited for you." Ca.s.sidy pulled my arm toward a hotdog stand. "f.u.c.k, I'm hungry. The smell of food is torturing me."

I'd been starving since our meager breakfast of an apple each from the reception desk at our budget hotel while checking in, but for some reason, my appet.i.te had disappeared. "Um . . . remember we were warned not to buy food off the streets? These carts have been out in the smog all day. It can't be healthy-"

"Brooklyn Bennett, for once in your G.o.dd.a.m.n life, forget the f.u.c.king rules and enjoy yourself. All these people can't be wrong." She gestured toward the long line in front of us. "Live on the wild side. Take a risk." She winked at me to soften her words.

What would have happened if I'd taken a risk and kept eye contact with that stranger? If I's actually smiled back at him? Would he have moved closer and talked to me?

Don't be f.u.c.king ridiculous. Why the h.e.l.l would he do that?

Giving the cart a once-over and noticing that the server wore gloves, and that the produce was covered by plastic lids, I shrugged. "Okay, but only this once. I'm not getting d.a.m.n food poisoning before starting my interns.h.i.+p. I worked f.u.c.king hard to get here; I'm not blowing it on random pollution-drenched food."

"O.M.G. You're a.n.a.l sometimes. But I still love you," she said, holding up two fingers at the server. "We'll have the works, thanks."

I shuddered as I noticed the man wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Up close, things didn't look as clean as they did from a distance, but it was too late to back out. I was going to have my first New York hotdog. We'd only been here for six hours and already I'd broken one of my cardinal rules to stay away from junk food bought off the side of the road. c.r.a.p.

I bit into the hotdog. d.a.m.n, it was good. I closed my eyes and savored the moment. After years of studying hard and working my a.s.s off to save for this opportunity of a lifetime, I was finally here. Grat.i.tude and excitement bubbled up inside me. I was lucky, and I knew it.

"s.h.i.+t, Ca.s.s . . . six months ago, this was all a distant dream." I wiped the sauce running down my chin with the extra napkin I'd taken from the cart.

"For you, maybe. I always knew you'd get the interns.h.i.+p. n.o.body studied or worked harder than you, babe. You so deserve it." Ca.s.sidy was licking her fingers, one by one. "Jeez, that's officially the best hotdog I've had in my life. I could do another one."

I grinned at her. "Better make that last till later tonight. We're on a tight budget, remember? Until we get our first paychecks, we're kinda screwed."

"Yeah. Don't remind me. Why did I choose this option again?" A frown marred her pretty face.

I wrinkled my nose at her. "Because you're a stubborn b.i.t.c.h, that's why. Needing to prove to the world that you don't need your daddy's money. Let me tell you, it's not much fun being broke."

"Gah, I'm learning that by the hour. Making me take the subway instead of a taxi from the airport? Booking into a two-star dive of a hotel? Why the h.e.l.l didn't I accept the credit card Daddy offered at the airport?" she grumbled.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Ca.s.s, stop whining. Didn't you decide you were old enough to stand on your own two feet and prove to the world that you can make it by yourself? Maybe you should be rubbing the bull's b.a.l.l.s . . . just saying." I chuckled. We were forty-eight hours into our adventure. How was she going to last six months?

My best friend had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her family owned property and businesses back home in Australia that ensured they were in the super-wealthy bracket, giving Ca.s.sidy an out that didn't exist for me. She could call her parents in Sydney asking for money any time she'd had enough. I, on the other hand, had no option other than to make this work. I had my back to the wall . . . quitting was not on the agenda.

"I don't know how you've done it all these years. I mean, no disrespect to you or your mum, but how the h.e.l.l did you survive?" She was staring at me with large round eyes, a glimmer of understanding dawning.

I grimaced. Living hand-to-mouth as a single parent had taken its toll on my mother's health. I'd learned from an early age to make the best of what we had, and to be grateful for small mercies. It was a lesson that was staring Ca.s.sidy Goodwin in the face.

"We get by . . . we always have. Mum is an amazing woman. My only worry with being here is leaving her while I chase my dream." My throat tightened at the thought of her alone back at our small apartment. Fortunately our neighbor, Mr. Lancaster, was sweet on Mum, and promised to help her out if necessary.

"You're lucky, having your mum for support. Mine thinks if she throws money at problems they'll go away. I wish I were as close to my mother as you are to yours. It's priceless . . . something money can't buy." Her wistful expression brought tears to my eyes. I blinked a few times, determined not to get all blubbery. We'd never had much in the way of money, but with the amount of love I received, I never felt deprived. I honestly believed that Ca.s.sidy would trade places with me in a heartbeat to have her mother care a fraction as much about her as mine did for me.

I squeezed her hand and changed the subject. "Honey, it's getting late. We better start looking for an apartment, if we want to be settled in before I start my new job. We'll have plenty of weekends to do all the touristy things in the next six months."

"You're right, as always, Miss Practical. Remember, you promised I could have the pick of which bedroom I wanted."

I nodded. Which bedroom was mine was the very least of my problems.

DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY.

3 - Brooklyn Drinking in the sights of the city, we landed in Times Square as night fell. It was our third day in New York, and already the city that never slept mesmerized is with its frenetic pace.

We'd spent most of the day looking at furnished places for rent, catching subways and walking till we had blisters on our feet. Finally we'd found an apartment that looked reasonable. It wasn't crawling with c.o.c.kroaches or falling apart, and hopefully neither the rent nor the neighbors would strangle us.

Far from being able to afford two bedrooms, we had settled on a one-bedroom apartment with twin beds and a tiny kitchen. At least the living room was reasonably s.p.a.cious, as we'd probably spend most of our time hanging out in there. At first Ca.s.sidy had refused to share a bedroom, but after viewing five two-bedroomed apartments we couldn't afford, I'd convinced her that it would be fun to share a bedroom where we could chat before falling asleep.

We'd collected our baggage from the hotel storage room and moved straight in to what would be our new home for half a year. After unpacking our few belongings, and since we had no food yet, we decided to soak up the city's atmosphere and get a bite to eat.

Gawking open-mouthed at the huge flas.h.i.+ng billboards that probably used the equivalent of an entire month's worth of electricity for our apartment in mere hours, we found a place to sit where we could devour our dinner. I'd seen many pictures of this famous spot, but nothing compared to the buzz and cosmopolitan feel of actually being there.

"I can't believe how small and expensive apartments are around here. Luckily I saved my birthday money for the deposit, or we'd be screwed," Ca.s.s said as she dug into her slice of pizza.

"We have our own small kitchen, and it's close to a Laundromat, so we're going to be fine." My optimism was dwindling fast, but I couldn't let her see my alarm. The poor girl had already had so many culture shocks that I didn't have the heart to discourage her further.