Bossy: An Alpha Collection

by Levine, Nina

  My tattoo is a collage that consists of a dragonfly, a tree, a crown and a scroll that runs through the images that says ‘Dance In The Rain’. I take a breath and begin to tell the story, because she’s going to want it, not some superficial explanation to explain the design. “Dragonflies are a symbol of living in the moment. The adult dragonfly only lives a few months usually and lives those months to the max – like we should. The tree is the tree of life.” I abruptly stop talking. The pain is too much as the memories flood my mind, and I don’t want to go on. I don’t want to remember what we almost lost, but I know Presley is going to push me there.

  Her eyes search mine. It’s like she’s hesitant to ask me more but it’s also clear she’s going to. I can see it written on her face. “What does the crown represent?” Her voice is wrapped in care and I let it help me press on.

  I shift onto my back and take a moment. And then I let the words spill from my lips. “The crown is my sister, Claudia . . .”

  My voice catches in my throat and I gulp back the painful memories.

  This never gets any easier.

  Presley rolls so she can lay her head against my chest and drapes her arm over my body. Her touch is comforting and I hold her, taking strength from her tenderness. “What happened to her?” She says the words so quietly I almost don’t hear them, perhaps because I’ve retreated into my thoughts.

  Away from the world.

  From the harshness of what it can sometimes serve up.

  Her words draw me back and I’m surprised at her ability to read me so well. Or maybe it’s not that she’s able to read me so easily compared to other women I’ve been with. Maybe it’s just because I’ve never been with a woman who actually cared enough to ask.

  I force out a breath. “It was fucking awful . . . she was so sick growing up . . . I thought we were going to lose her.”

  “What did she have?”

  “Leukaemia. She was diagnosed when she was eight and her treatment lasted for about three years.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was thirteen.”

  Too young.

  Claudia was too fucking young.

  The memories assault me and I’m helpless; all I can do is let them come.

  I might have to relive them, but fuck if I’ll let them bury me.

  Snapping back to the moment, I roll, taking Presley with me and pinning her underneath me. I stare down at her, taking in her beauty and her concern. I think about how fucking amazing she is. Even though I’ve only known her a short time, I know she’s too good for me and I know that makes me a lucky asshole. “Life’s too short not to dance in the rain, sweetheart. It’s why I’m here with you, and it’s why I’ll always fight for what I want. Even when life throws shit at me, I refuse to shut down and stop living life to the fullest. Claudia taught me that.”

  She blesses me with a beautiful smile. “She sounds amazing.”

  “Yeah, she is. She was the one dealing with being sick, and yet she was the one who kept our family together when I thought for sure we weren’t going to make it. And she still goes out of her way to keep us close.”

  A frown creases her face. “What do you mean?”

  “The financial stress it put on my parents was enormous because Mum had to stop working so she could look after Claudia. They went through all their savings and we almost lost our home when they struggled to pay the mortgage. I don’t know for sure, but I think their marriage took a hit also, but they always kept that part away from us. Honestly, I don’t know how they survived it all, but I do know that Claudia helped a lot. She was always finding ways for our family to bond . . . you know, family dinners, picnics, trips to the movies and stuff like that . . . I really believe that kept us together in the end.”

  She smiles. She’s so goddamn beautiful when she smiles. Hell, who am I kidding? She’d be fucking beautiful even if she was glaring at me and telling me what a fucking asshole I was. “She taught you guys to dance in the rain,” she murmurs, and I fucking love that she gets it. I’ve never told anyone the significance of my tattoo before. A lot of women have asked but I fobbed them off with some bullshit story, and the fact they bought that shit without a doubt speaks volumes about what they wanted from me. It sure as fuck wasn’t my heart and soul they were after.

  I return her smile. “Yeah, she sure did.” My lips brush hers and I say, “How the fuck did we get onto that topic? That’s too deep for this time of morning.”

  “Something tells me you’re a very deep man, Mr. Vaughn,” she says with a grin as I push up off the bed.

  Shaking my head at her and grinning, I walk into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I hear someone knocking on the front door and Presley padding on the carpet to answer it. I’m less than fucking impressed when I make out the voice of her husband. I’ve no idea if she’s heard from him since the charity dinner because I never asked her, and she never said anything else about him after that night. Thinking about him twists my gut with both anger and jealousy. I’m angry that someone like him treated Presley so bad, and jealous because he’s still in her life. And while I believe she’s done with him, that doesn’t cure it.

  Fucking jealousy.

  I’ve never suffered with it in my life. Ever. And I fucking hate that I am now. When that dickhead spoke to Presley last night outside the club, I was angry someone would talk to her that way, but, more than anything, I was jealous. And fuck if that didn’t rile me up even more.

  I finish in the bathroom, pull on some jeans, and slowly make my way to the front door. My desire to give Presley her space leads me to wait in the hallway for her, but my insane possessiveness over her means I can’t drag myself away from their conversation.

  “What are you doing here, Lennon? I thought I made it clear yesterday that I didn’t want to see you again.” The hurt in Presley’s voice is evident and that twists me up. I ball my fists and clench them as I think about her pain.

  “I need to explain something to you. Something I think you may have misunderstood the other night,” Lennon replies.

  “I’ll listen, but it won’t change anything between us.”

  He sighs. “Can I at least come in?”

  I have to restrain myself from joining their conversation and telling him to stay the fuck out of her home.

  “No,” she says, and I almost sag in relief.

  “I didn’t sleep with Van’s fiancé while you and I were still together. That happened after you left.” When Presley doesn’t reply, he adds, “You’ve gotta believe me, baby.”

  That’s fucking it.

  Stalking the short distance from the hallway to the front door, I make my way to where Presley is and I slide my arms around her and pull her tight against me. Glaring at Lennon, I growl, “That’s the last time you’ll call her that.”

  Lennon’s gaze flicks to me and his face hardens. “I’ll call her whatever the fuck I want to call her. She is my wife, after all.”

  I fight the desire to punch the motherfucker. I want to, but I don’t. More for Presley’s sake than any other reason.

  Presley shakes her head and mutters, “I told you yesterday that I’m only your wife on paper. And not to call me that anymore. Now, you’ve said what you came to say, so you can leave. I don’t really care when you slept with that woman because it doesn’t change the fact you were a bad husband.”

  My hold on her tightens and I take a step back, pulling her with me. “Don’t come back here. In fact, don’t come near Presley again. She’s made it clear what she wants.”

  Lennon opens his mouth to say something further but I silence him. “Save it, Lennon, she’s not interested.”

  Presley turns in my embrace and whispers, “Thank you,” before shrugging out of my hold and walking back into the house, leaving me alone with Lennon.

  I continue glaring at him, waiting for him to try and make another move on her. My fists are itching to get to work, and I won’t hesitate if he keeps at it.

  We face o
ff for a good few minutes before he finally says, “You’re an asshole, Jett, and she’s gonna figure that out soon enough, and then she’ll come straight back to me.” As soon as he has the words out, he turns and stalks away, leaving me standing there fuming. But it’s good to see the back of him.

  He’s wrong, though.

  I’m going to make damn sure Presley never goes back to him.

  I shut the door and go to find her. She’s back in her bedroom, her back to me, and I put my arms around her and pull her to me. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” The anger and jealousy has been replaced with concern. I’d do anything to make sure she’s okay.

  Turning, she gives me a smile. Even though it’s a weak one, I’m glad to see it on her lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you for that.”

  I kiss her, and the moment our lips meet, I feel the energy flow between us. She gives herself over to me, and I put everything into the kiss. I need her to know I’m here for her and that I’m ready to be the man she needs.

  When I end the kiss, her eyes tell me she felt everything I felt in that moment.

  We don’t need words.

  I love that because sometimes words fail me.

  “What are your plans for today?” I ask, not letting her go.

  “I’ve still got some photos from your concert to edit. How about you? Are you working?”

  “Nope, not working today so I’m all yours. Any ideas for what we could do?”

  Laughter escapes from her lips and my dick jerks. God, I want her again. She pushes me away playfully and says, “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas for what we could do, but only one idea for what I will be doing. I won’t bore you with the details of what you’ll be missing out on, though.” She winks and turns to walk out of the bedroom.

  A second later, I lift her from behind, carry her back into the bedroom and throw her onto the bed. Climbing on top of her, I bend my face to hers and growl, “How about I tell you what you’d be missing out on then?”

  My phone rings, interrupting the fuck out of us, and I’m annoyed to see it’s Tom, my manager. “What’s up?” I ask as I answer it. I’m straddling Presley and I slide my spare hand under her t-shirt to find her breast. I’ve no intention of being on the phone for very long.

  “Jett, where are you?” He sounds irritated.

  “I’m with Presley. Why?”

  “You’re supposed to be at the recording studio this morning.”

  Shit, I’d forgotten about that.

  “Sorry, Tom. I’m on my way now,” I say as I move off Presley. As I end the call, I tell her, “I’ve gotta head to the studio. I forgot we have a band meeting this morning.”

  Shifting so she can prop herself up on her elbows, she says, “All good.”

  I pull on my shirt and grin at her. “You free tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I’m taking you out, and then I’m bringing you home to have my way with you,” I promise her as I bend and kiss her.

  “Promises, promises,” she jokes, but I can see she’s down with that idea.

  I grab my car keys and nod as I head out of the bedroom. “You better fucking believe it, baby. You won’t know what hit you when I make good on that promise.”

  As I walk out the front door, the sound of her laughing is ringing in my head, and it’s the best fucking sound to begin the day with.

  Van is sitting in the corner, moody as ever, when I enter the studio half an hour later. He stands and throws me a filthy look. “Glad you could make it.” His sarcasm drips from his lips and it pisses me off.

  As I approach him, West jumps in between us and places his hands on my chest, trying to hold me back. “Can you two give it a rest?” he mutters.

  Halting my progress, I scowl at Van and say, “I’m here now, so let’s get this over with.”

  Tom enters the conversation. “Jett, the label wants to fast track this album. They’ve done some testing and there’s a lot of fans screaming for it.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we have to rush it. We said we were taking our time with this one so we could have a break.” I stop and look at him. “We’re fucking exhausted and need some time off.”

  Tom nods in agreement. “I know, but the boys are keen to do this so they’re just waiting for you to give it the green light, too.”

  I shake my head in disapproval. Looking around the room, I ask, “You all really want to do this? What about the decision we’d already made and all agreed to?”

  Van steps forward. “The label’s offered a bonus to all of us if we do it now.”

  My mouth gapes open. “We don’t need the fucking money, Van.”

  He shrugs. “Why turn it down? Fuck, Jett, we’ve been doing this for so long now we can all do this shit in our sleep. Let’s just do it, collect the pay check, and then take a break.”

  “Except there’s never a break after an album, dickhead. You all know an album means a tour.” I turn my gaze to Hunter. “Are you on board with this?”

  “Yeah, I’m easy either way,” he replies.

  I look at West. “And you?”

  “I’m down with the bonus, so yeah, for sure.”

  I shove my fingers through my hair as I fight the urge to scream. This isn’t what we’d agreed but I’m the odd one out and am going to have to cave. In the ten years we’ve been together, we have avoided any major fallout by compromising and working together to come to agreements. Over the past couple of months, Van’s grown moodier than usual and has started quite a few arguments. There’s something going on with him but he refuses to discuss anything whenever I try to get him to open up.

  Throwing my arms up, I concede. “Fine, we’ll do this.”

  “Great, I’ll let the label know,” Tom says and then eyes me. “You got any songs ready to go?”

  Van and I tend to do most of the writing for the band but we haven’t been working on anything together lately. “I’ve got a couple I’ve written.” Looking at Van, I raise my brows. “You got anything?”

  He seems cagey, as if he’s holding something back. Shaking his head, he says, “No.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what is going on with him. “We’ll start tomorrow,” I say, and am relieved when he nods. Thank fuck, because Van is the master songwriter of our group. For a moody prick that doesn’t talk much, he has some deep shit inside him that seems to only come out when we’re writing together.

  “I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning.” Once the words are out, I turn and leave. I can’t be in the same room as any of them at the moment.

  Needing something to calm me down, I head to see the one person who never fails to bring me some peace.

  “Hey, Princess.”

  Claudia turns and smiles at me. She’s madly typing something on her laptop at the kitchen table but she immediately gets up and comes to me. “Hey, big brother,” she says as she throws her arms around me in a big hug. When she’s finished hugging me, she takes a step away from me and frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  My sister always did have some kind of special intuition; she always knows when I’m not quite right. “How long have you got to listen?”

  “For you, all the time in the world. You know that.” She cocks her head. “You want coffee for this or something stronger?”

  Taking a seat at the table, I say, “Coffee.”

  She nods and gets to work. “So spill.”

  I sigh. “It’s the band . . . no, it’s mainly Van . . .”

  Claudia doesn’t have much patience for Van. Groaning, she asks, “Oh god, what has he done now?”

  “He’s off at the moment, has been for a little while now. Probably ever since that bitch fiancé of his did the dirty on him.”

  “Is he moodier than usual?”

  “Yeah, and it’s like he’s trying to provoke fights with me all the time. He never used to be like that with me. And now he’s pushed the band to bring forward our production schedule for the next album.”

  She frowns; she
knows how important a break is to me at the moment. “That sucks. I wonder what’s going on in that head of his.”

  “Fuck knows, and god help us when he explodes because he’s been keeping shit tight for too long now.” I take the coffee she hands me as she sits at the table.

  “So no break now?”

  I shake my head. “Nope, no break. So that trip you and I had planned to the Whitsundays will need to be postponed.”

  Waving me off she says, “That’s all good. I was going to cancel on you anyway.”

  It’s my turn to frown now. We’ve been planning this trip for months and she’s been so excited for it that I’m confused as to why she’d cancel on me. “Why?”

  A strange look crosses her face. It’s not one I recall seeing before but it reminds me of the looks Van gives me when he’s avoiding giving me a straight answer about something. “I’ve got too much stuff going on at uni. I can’t fit a trip in.”

  Now I’m really perplexed. “That doesn’t make sense, Princess. We’ve been planning this for a while now and you took all your study into account. What gives?”

  She shoves her chair back and stands. “I’m just too busy, okay?”

  The angry look she levels on me is so out of character for her that I’m stunned into silence as I watch her walk out of the room.

  What the hell?

  “Claudia! What’s going on?” I yell out as I stand to go and follow her.

  A moment later I’ve caught up to her and she’s in my arms, crying. “I’m not coping with school at the moment, Jett,” she sobs, “so I need to spend the time studying instead of going on a holiday.”

  I wrap my arms tighter around her and run my hand over her hair. Seeing her so distressed kills me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Shaking her head, she says, “No, and besides, you’ve got enough to deal with in your life already.”

  “I’m never too busy for you. You know that. So if you change your mind, you need to let me know, okay?”

  “I will.”

  We stay like that for a while. Whatever she’s struggling with is really hitting her hard because my sister never falls apart like this. Eventually, she lets me go, and I decide she needs me more than anyone else needs me today. “You wanna go to the movies this afternoon? Or do you need to stay here and study? I’m down for either.”