Line: Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Colleen Charles

  I started the car and put it in reverse for the second time that night.

  Chapter 38

  Ally

  Kelly and Pat’s had closed due to a weather emergency. There was so much snow, the front door couldn’t swing open, and every time the plow staggered by, a foot or two more of the white mess, infused with dirt and gravel, gathered on the sidewalk.

  I sat at the counter on one of their nifty bar stools and twirled, enjoying the simple pleasure of my hair floating around my back and shoulders. I massaged the wrinkles on my forehead, but they might be there to stay. I wasn’t prepared to iron them out. It seemed my face had been locked in a permanent grimace since Moreno mansion-gate.

  “She doesn’t look good,” Pat remarked from the back room.

  “Thanks,” I called out, but I couldn’t begrudge him the comment. I was so pale I could probably get a sunburn standing in front of the TV. Gabe was engaged to Faith, the woman he’d gotten pregnant and lied to me about.

  I’d gone in too deep and I’d done it to myself. I’d known. Known that nothing but heartbreak awaited me on the other side. Why did I have to go and reach so high? It was like someone had clicked the ‘off’ button in the common sense lobe of my brain.

  Kelly popped up from under the counter, holding a big bag of coffee beans. “I found it,” she said with a broad grin. “The last bag. This is the Holy Grail of coffee, Allegra Wilson. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

  “Like a heartbreak?”

  “Meh, more like the Apocalypse, but this will have to do. Good enough excuse and all that.” She chuckled, but it was forced. She hated seeing me like this, and I would’ve felt the same if our positions were reversed.

  “Great,” I said, risking a taut smile. “Brew her up.”

  “Two cups of Brazil’s best coming right up, sweetheart.” Kelly hurried over to the grinder and opened the bag with relish. She sniffed the contents and shut her eyes to embrace the aroma. “God, that’s amazing. You should come over here and smell this.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “Live a little,” Pat said, materializing in the door to the office. He walked to his wife, placed his hands on her shoulders, then leaned down and snuggled his nose against her neck.

  It made me want to pluck my eyeballs out, throw them on the hand-planked wood floor and stomp on them until they were little puddles of optical goo, unable to ever see again.

  Kelly smiled gently, then smacked him on the arm and gestured in my direction. “Try practicing a little tact, honey,” she said.

  Pat stuck out his tongue, but backed away, leaving us with the space he always granted when I was around. He knew that Kelly handled the womanly issues. He was the silent support.

  Kelly busied herself with the beans, grinding, percolating, and whatever else it was she did to make the aroma of coffee swim through the café. She brought me a cup and settled onto the stool beside mine, squishing her palms against the sides of her mug.

  “Do I need to ask, Ally?”

  “I don’t know if I want to talk about it yet.” I sipped from my cup and the warm liquid flowed down my throat and hit my stomach. It warmed me from the inside, except for the icy patch on the left side of my chest. I didn’t want that to thaw. I wanted to carry it like a badge. A constant reminder of my stupidity where men were concerned. “It’s Valentine’s in a few days,” I observed. “My own private inamorata. A Hallmark infused snake spewing her pink venom to a media outlet near you.”

  “You’re going to spend it with us.” Kelly slurped her drink and put it on the counter with a clink. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “Thanks, Kels, but I’d prefer time on my own.”

  I need more time on my own. Because I still feel like my stomach has been split open from throat to groin and my organs are exposed.

  “Like hell. You’re going to sit at my house and drink champagne and eat sugar and watch Beaches with a box of tissues. And I’ll even buy you a gift. I’ll be your Valentine. I’ve made the decision for you.” Kelly dusted off her palms as if that ended the argument.

  “I get a gift?” I couldn’t feign excitement, but Kelly’s caring warmed me more than hot beverages ever could.

  “Hell yeah, you—” Kelly’s eyes widened. She stared at the mirror over the bar and pressed her lips together.

  Gabe’s reflection stared back, from outside in the street. Snow dusted his shoulders, a thin veneer on his dark woolen coat. He waved and pointed to the door.

  “I can’t handle this,” I said, stammering through the sentence and slopping coffee into my lap. This was pathetic. I was stronger than this, but Gabe had reduced me to a quivering mess.

  Kelly lurched from her stool. “Pat!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. He appeared instantly, glasses half off his nose and a book in hand.

  He spotted Gabe and slapped the paperback onto the counter. “Right,” he said, “I’ll take care of this.”

  Gabe was at the glass front door to the coffee shop, pulling off a glove with his teeth.

  I stared at him in the mirror, the intent in his movements, the soft patter of snow falling and sticking in his wavy brown hair. My insides did gymnastic somersaults and I wedged my hands under my thighs. Trying to ground myself. To keep from losing it.

  Gabe opened the door as Pat reached it.

  “You’re not welcome here,” Kelly said, standing with her back to mine to form the perfect friendship shield.

  This was different from our first fight over lies. This was him sleeping with me, telling me he felt… God, that he felt things for me, and then asking Faith to be his wife. It had to be because of the baby. He wanted a kid and I could never provide that.

  Gabe stood, staring at me, flicking his glove against his palm. Then he turned to Pat and glared. A huge, stiff wall of flesh and determination. “Get out of my way.”

  Pat placed the flat of his hand on Gabe’s chest and left it there. He didn’t shove or cause trouble, that wasn’t Pat’s way, but he kept Gabe at bay.

  “I said, get out of my way,” Gabe repeated, and flicked his glove faster, tapping his foot in the snow, sending up puffs of powder until it became sludge and his impatience sounded out wet slaps instead.

  “This is my establishment and if you don’t leave, I will call the police.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t a great idea either. Matthew would be all over it when he heard that particular call come over the two-way. Seeing him again and having him stick his nose in this was the last thing I needed.

  Gabe never once broke my gaze. “So call them.” He took a firm step forward and bent Pat’s wrist backward. “We need to talk, Allegra.”

  “So now you want to talk to her, asshole? How long’s it been? A day?” Kelly crossed her arms and leaned back until her spine touched mine. I drew strength from that tiny gesture.

  “You didn’t want to talk when your father was around,” I said, clearing my throat. Afraid if I said one more word I’d break down into the torrent of tears I’d managed to hold at bay in front of others. The one that came like a torrential downpour every night alone in bed.

  Gabe jumped and focused on me again. “Allegra, I can explain everything.”

  “I’m not interested in what you have to say, Gabe.” I bobbed my chin up and down; readjusted my ass on the stool. “This is over.”

  “That can’t be it,” Gabe replied. “This is what we do, Allegra, we mess up and forgive each other and carry on. We’ll get it right. I love—”

  “Don’t,” I said, raising my hand. “Nothing is worth this much pain.”

  “Get the hell out of here,” Pat grunted, walking Gabe backwards into the snowy street. “And don’t come back.”

  “Allegra!” Gabe yelled, strafing left and right to get past Pat and back to the front door. “I won’t give up. I’m never giving up.”

  I rose and walked around the counter and into Kelly’s office, taking my half-empty cup with me. I kicked the door
shut with my heel, cutting off his cries. God. I couldn’t hear it anymore. I couldn’t see him anymore. I didn’t think emotional pain could be this agonizing.

  Chapter 39

  Ally

  I’d chosen an obscure bar, a place Kelly would never think to look, where I was unlikely to run into anyone I knew by name. Hell, most of the people in here were in their forties. I was pretty much on my own. I patted the handbag holding my can of pepper spray and beckoned the bartender.

  He was bald with a ring in his left ear and a bandanna tied at his throat. His cotton t-shirt was stained, and I could barely make out the Bart Simpson cartoon printed on it.

  “What’ll it be, sweetheart?” He stroked his mustache with two fingers and grinned, exposing yellow teeth.

  I readjusted my skimpy red dress and fanned myself in the muggy atmosphere. “A Screwdriver. And make it strong.”

  “Oh, I’ll cook it up real special, darling.” He brought out a highball glass and some orange juice, orange soda, and premium vodka. “Tell me when,” he said and sloshed the clear liquid into the glass.

  I held up two fingers and placed them against the glass. My hair flopped in front of my eye, shielding it from view.

  He stopped when he got to the top of my index, then began pouring the soda. “You look like you’ve got a story.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” I asked, looking up and down the bar. A woman in a dress less modest than mine fawned over a decrepit greying dude at the end. She shot me a stare that said, ‘Back off bitch, this one’s mine.’

  “Heartbreak?” The bartender — I’d already decided to call him Bob in my mind — slid the cocktail across the bar top, trailing two strands of water.

  “You sure you’re not a psychic?” I quipped and accepted a tiny neon pink straw from a dispenser and plopped it into the Screwdriver. I stirred the drink, clinking the ice against the sides of the glass, shutting my eyes for a second to enjoy the fizz and jingle.

  I wanted to spend an hour in the moment, without thoughts, just appreciating everything from the dirty tables to the weird characters wandering in and out of the place.

  This was my moment because I’d chosen it. No Gabe, no Matthew, no complications. Just Allegra, alone at the bar, fending for herself, making her own choices.

  I was on a date with myself. Because I was worth it. And I’d prove it.

  I didn’t need a rock on my finger or a baby in my belly to be a real woman.

  “Ally,” a man murmured in my ear, brushing hair back from my neck.

  Shivers traveled down my spine. I gripped my handbag, fingers creeping towards the zipper and the pepper spray within.

  “Leave me alone,” I said. I opened my eyes and turned my head to Matthew. His lips were inches from mine, puffy and moist. The thought of touching them with mine made me want to throw up my vodka all over the antique wooden bar.

  “I didn’t expect to find you here.” He didn’t back off. He just stood there, his gaze piercing through to my soul. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of haunt.”

  “Shows how little you know me,” I replied, taking a sip of the Screwdriver and relishing the tickle of juice on my tongue and the vodka burning down the back of my throat and into my belly. The sensation warming me inside. Since I’d left the Moreno mansion, I’d been a cold, impenetrable ice woman.

  “Mind if I join you?” Matthew asked.

  “Of course I mind. I just told you to leave me alone, didn’t I?”

  “Bitter. Party of one.” Matthew glanced around me, pretending to examine the empty chair on either side for the first time. He settled into one of them and rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Where’s that hotshot Moreno? Trouble in paradise already with your new lover?”

  “He’s not my lover,” I snapped, then calmed myself with another swig of orangey vodka delight. “Matthew, I didn’t come here for a torture session, so would you kindly fuck off?”

  “Feisty, eh?” My ex chuckled and stuck an index finger in the air to summon the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said and pointed. “If it can help me look like her, I’m all for it.”

  “It would take more than ten Screwdrivers to make you look like her.” Bob scowled at him, and I liked him more for it. “And you wouldn’t be the one drinking them. The women looking at you would need to shit-faced.”

  The conversation died, spreading what would’ve been an awkward silence if not for the heavy rock beat pumping from the speakers near the tiny dance floor. A group of guys entered, and I turned on my stool, drink in one hand, to watch them.

  They walked to the nearest pool table and picked up pool cues. The shortest guy joked and pointed at one of his buddies, then brought out the triangle and started arranging the balls.

  So free. They were happy and relaxed; they didn’t have a damn care in the world apart from the next paycheck.

  “So,” Matthew said, swiveling with his Screwdriver, “your silence wouldn’t have anything to do with Moreno’s engagement, would it?”

  “How did you know about that?” I buried myself in my drink again. I kept falling into the trap of talking to my ex and I despised it. He was such a loser. I shouldn’t have given him the time of day, but here I was again, talking to him for Christ’s sake. Why didn’t I have the bravado to just get up and walk away? Because I wanted information about Gabe. Deep down, I craved the intel on him like a crack-whore in an alley. “Actually, I don’t care. I don’t want to know how you know, or why. I just want you to leave me alone.”

  And I’m a big, fat, fucking liar. Because I do want to know. Everything.

  The short pool table guy paused and nudged a friend, a tall man in ripped jeans with tattoos crawling down his muscle-bound arms. They examined Matthew closely, murmuring to each other.

  He didn’t notice because his psycho gaze was glued to the side of my face. I wanted to pry him off, I could practically feel him staring, but I couldn’t achieve it short of whipping my straw from my Screwdriver and poking him in the eye.

  Not a bad idea really.

  I slurped more vodka and licked my lips. I wasn’t used to drinking; this shit had gone straight to my head. I settled into the mellow and bobbed with the beat of the music, ignoring Matthew.

  “You need a man, Allegra, not a mouse. That Gabe fucker was rich and hot or whatever, but he was a slime ball. He can’t treat you right because he doesn’t know how.”

  “You’re one to talk,” I replied, still staring dead ahead. “Impregnated any women yet? That was your main goal while we were dating, wasn’t it?”

  “Low blow,” he remarked.

  The short guy broke the ball formation with a vicious strike. The balls clacked on the sides of the table and sped across the green felt. The big assed friend had his phone out, texting, but paused to laugh when the white ball sank into the corner pocket.

  “You’re coming home with me tonight,” Matthew said.

  I snorted, braver than I would’ve been if I’d forgotten the pepper spray at home. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Honestly, Matt, I don’t know why you even try anymore. What is it about me that’s got you so obsessed?” I swiveled on the chair and leaned forward to stare into his face, devoid of fear. “Seriously, what is it? Is it because of Gabe?”

  “No, I just really care about—”

  “Ha!” The music lulled at the exact moment I let out that piercing shrill of sound. “Don’t make me laugh. You threatened to arrest my mother, asshole. When will you get the point?” I poked him once, twice, three times in the forehead. “I don’t want you, you idiot. I will never want you. I will never negotiate with you. I will never fuck you. Get that into your thick skull.”

  The pool players paused to watch our argument.

  Matthew’s cheeks went bright red and his lips peeled back over his teeth. He grabbed my wrist and wrenched it down. “Don’t you fucking talk to me like that,” he growled, “I’ll make you regret your flippant words, whore.”

  “No, yo
u won’t.” I jerked back and freed myself, but my handbag slapped to the floor. The contents spilled onto the sticky boards, lipstick, emergency tampons, mascara, wallet and, of course, the pepper spray.

  I groaned as it rolled away and came to rest under the pool table.

  Chapter 40

  Gabe

  I positioned myself near the door, watching him talk to her, his pathetic attempts to get into her pants. My woman.

  Mine.

  Seeing her at my dad’s house had been fucking painful. So painful I thought my guts were being Hoover’d out my asshole. Shit. She thought she knew the reasons why. That she knew me. Allegra Wilson didn’t know a goddamn thing.

  Rock music blared from the speakers overhead and a couple of decrepit assholes jived on the dance floor, hopping on the scratched boards, twining with each other, then separating again.

  Yeah, so I’d followed her to the bar. You think I’m a stalker? That I don’t deserve her? Well, fuck you. I protect what’s mine. She couldn’t think I’d let her stroll around Minneapolis unprotected when her abusive ex in law enforcement was constantly on her tail with the safety of the police department behind him.

  Allegra didn’t know the half of it. She didn’t realize just how deep Matthew’s obsession went. He was beyond the creepy phase. He’d upgraded to full blown fucking psycho and she still allowed him to sit close to her. God. I’d give anything to walk up to her. To tuck that errant strand of silky hair behind her ear and let my index finger trail from her jawline down the elegant column of her throat. To her pulse. The pulse that throbbed with desire every time we were together. Desire for me.

  She swayed on the chair, bobbing in time to the music and sipping from her bright orange drink. Probably had some girly name like Afternoon Delight or Silk Panty. Her asshole ex had ordered the same.

  Allegra had ignored Matthew most of the time I’d been here on my recognizance mission, but he was a persistent fucker. Though her silence had to grind at him because that little piss was used to getting what he wanted. Because he used his power as a civil servant to just take it. So much for the vow to protect and serve. The only person Matthew served was himself. An ugly vein throbbed at the man’s temple and he wrinkled his forehead between slurps on his pin-striped straw. Seems he was taking the rejection hard.