Monroe: The Dynastic Collection: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Cynthia Dane

  ***

  Pauline the hairstylist spent an inordinate amount of time staring at Alice’s reflection and a picture of her in the dress the other stylists had picked out for her. Rayne kept throwing around the words “bun” and “braid,” but every other phrase made the skinny redhead flinch.

  “This kind of face needs a symmetrical haircut, but not that symmetrical.” Her accent was so thick that Alice couldn’t place it. “Leave me. I need to consult with my art.” As soon as Rayne was gone, Pauline continued to mumble, “Had to get her out of here before she summoned Laryette.” Then, louder, “Now, how about we chop off these lovely locks of yours?”

  “No!” Alice knew she shouldn’t have shouted with scissors so close to her head, but what else was she supposed to do? “I mean… no. Please don’t. Trim it if you want, but don’t chop it.”

  Melodrama was the theme of the day. Pauline blew out a torrent of hot air through her mouth and nostrils before putting the shears down. “Fine, but don’t blame me if your look falls flat because you’re obsessed with your own hair color.”

  Alice was getting tired of these people making assumptions about her. “Next you’ll be telling me that you want to dye my hair.”

  “What? No way. You’ve got the natural blond tone we’re always trying to achieve for our dark-haired clients.” Pauline ruffled the top of Alice’s head for emphasis. “It’s noticeably blond but not outrageously so. We call this Conservative Blond. All the heiresses applying to law school crow for this color. Yet they want us to do it in a way that won’t fry their hair? Technology hasn’t caught up to us that well yet. Although…” She carefully parted Alice’s hair, scoping out both her roots and the way her hair grew gradually lighter the longer it fell. “If you wanted to dye it one day, we could do a really soft brown. Not quite chestnut, but almost there. Your skin tone is perfect for it.”

  Alice considered it for one hot second. “We, huh?”

  “You keep that Monroe wrapped around your pretty finger and I’ll be happy to keep doing your hair, sweetheart.” She picked up a tiny pair of scissors. “Now, about these bangs and disgusting split ends…”

  There wasn’t much time for conversation when Pauline was pulling her hair – and not in the sexy way – clipping dangerously close to her ear, and trying every updo under the sun. Rayne came in and out of the hair studio, asking “How much longer?” and whether or not Pauline had any more of that sparkling champagne left. Alice was never offered any.

  All these people think I should milk the man dry of his money. The thought had occurred to her more than once, but only as an outrageous fantasy. Alice was not into the idea of using a man for his money. She wouldn’t want to be used for her body, would she? Yet that’s probably what I’m signing up for. Classic Daddy-baby relationship. Except Monroe wasn’t that much older than her. A whole two years! When she and Candice researched as much as they could on the internet, that had been the most shocking thing. The man had been born in 1985. Alice’s parents may not have met yet, but they were already heading on that path by ’85.

  Yet Damon Monroe felt so much older. His older gravitas. That wizened aura. The man was more forty than he was thirty. His dad looked a lot older too. Alice shivered, conjuring the wrath of Pauline since she almost sliced someone’s ear off. Memories of Russell Monroe and that one strange moment they shared stuck to poor Alice. She hoped she wouldn’t be seeing much more of the man while she became a blip in Monroe Jr.’s dating life.

  Pauline finished her trimming and styling. In the end, she left Alice with an updo that was more beehive than twist… and a video demonstration so she could recreate the look tomorrow. Yeah, right. Alice couldn’t wait to get the thing off her head already. She knew that bees were endangered, but did she have to be the one to cart them around in her hair?

  Renaldo must have had the same thought as she collected her bags and headed for the taxi the three of them shared. “Careful, don’t get stung.” He opened the backdoor to the cab and allowed her to hop in first. Rayne was already inside.

  Sad thing? Alice was counting on getting stung. If she wasn’t after Monroe for his money, then she had to be after him for something. His stinger seemed as good as anything else. What did she know? She was still naïve in the world of actually having sex.

  Chapter 9

  Alice stood in front of her mirror, in awe of how expensive she suddenly looked.

  “Damn, mama,” came a whistle from the doorway. Candice appeared, nodding in appreciation. “Look at you! Who knew that Barney’s could be so sexy!”

  Indeed. When Alice received the dress that morning, hemmed by the professional on-site seamstress, she was in awe that it had come out so well. One could almost not find the original length, so well it was tucked in. Instead of plummeting to her ankles, the skirt hugged her legs above her knees, showing off her sturdy calves and, yes, what little ass she had. It also managed to give glimpses to her breasts without being garish. Since she didn’t have any expensive jewelry, though, she struggled to decide how to accessorize.

  She wasn’t as lost as she was with her hair, though.

  Candice had seen the pictures and agreed that it was absurd. She also took one look at the video demonstrating how to recreate the look and laughed into the back of her hand. “Girl, I’ve got you covered. I do hair on sets all the time. I work well in a pinch.”

  Alice glared at her. “I don’t want porn star hair.”

  “Why not? They have some of the best looking hair! Besides, would you rather have the Leaning Tower of Pisa sculpted into your hair?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then sit your sexy ass down. I want you to remember me as only helpful when you’re Mrs. Monroe and delegating your husband’s assets to your still poor friends.”

  “It’s not like…”

  “Joke! It’s a joke!” Candice threaded her fingers through Alice’s hair. “We’re going to make you so pretty, girl!”

  Alice had to admit that she liked Candice’s look for her a lot more. One tight bun mounted the top of her head, decorated with pins topped in cubic zirconia – it would have to work on their last minute budget. Besides, what were the odds that Monroe would even notice? Like… one in a thousand? He would be too busy staring at these tits!

  “By the way, you need this.” Candice handed her a piece of lined paper, neatly folded into a paper crane. “It’s your list of demands for when he asks you to be his prized escort.”

  Alice spiked the crane on the bedroom floor, as if she were in the worst end-zone in the world but still expected to react for the spectators.

  “Whoa. What was that for?”

  Enough was enough. Seriously. “It was kinda funny at first, but now I’m sick of everyone acting like I’m going to become this guy’s sugar baby. For one, we don’t know what his real motives are for dating me.”

  “Alice, the fact you use the word motives…”

  “Second, I don’t even know how I feel about this situation. I barely know this guy. All I know is that he is mega rich and has a nice dick. Put those two things aside, and he’s kind of a jerk. Okay, a really big jerk.” Everything was about him. Everything was on his terms. A girl could only take so much of that. I had enough of it with Matt. Never again. A woman couldn’t follow the whim and needs of a man without getting some consideration in turn. “It’s one thing to get that kind of treatment from total strangers. I don’t need you pushing this idea onto me too. I’m going on a date. A regular date with a regular guy. So what if he paid for me to come dressed in Barney’s?”

  “Yeah, girl. So what?” Candice shook her head. “Regular date? Regular guy? Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but you need to understand that Damon Monroe is no regular guy! He’s coming to pick you up in his limo, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Yes. He’s coming to pick me up. He’s not sending a car to come pick me up a la carte to be delivered for his sexual dessert. He asked me out on a date, and by fucking hell we’re going
on a date! It’s the least he could do after making me lose my job.”

  “Pretty sure he didn’t make you do anything, Al. Unless there’s some pivotal information you left out.”

  “Don’t you dare.” Alice turned back to the mirror, forcing a calm demeanor as she smoothed down her dress and plucked errant hairs from her scalp. “Monroe has been nothing but a gentleman. His own brand of gentleman, but a gentleman nonetheless in that regard.”

  She could practically hear the eyes rolling behind her. “If you say so, Al. Keep in mind that he is his own brand of gentleman. You’ve never dated a guy like this before. Hell, I would barely know what to do, and I rub elbows with some millionaires once in a while.” Candice chuckled. “No, seriously, though. Take the paper. Like how I have no idea what’s going to happen, neither do you. This could be a normal date like you keep saying. Or…”

  Alice glanced at her friend’s reflection in the mirror. “Or what?”

  She didn’t get a response. The doorbell rang.

  Shit, was that him? Like he came into her place of work, had he come straight to her door? Alice’s heart fluttered as she ran from the bedroom, her movement unrestricted with the generous flow of her skirt. I really feel like it’s prom now! Alice double-checked herself in the hall mirror before putting her hand on the front doorknob and turning.

  It was not Monroe.

  “Good evening, Ms. Culver,” greeted the somber limo driver. “Mr. Monroe’s car awaits downstairs, right on time.”

  Candice approached from behind, carrying a faux-fur half coat from her own closet. Alice wordlessly shrugged into it and also accepted her black clutch. Do I look expensive? That’s what she wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. “Thanks.” She tried to mask the disappointment in her voice. Why hadn’t Monroe greeted her like a date should have?

  Something slipped into her coat pocket. It was Candice’s hand. “Have fun, hon,” she said. “Remember your health classes this time.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Got it.” Condoms in her clutch. Got it. She had been on birth control for about a week now, too. Because nothing said “starting a new job” like adjusting to HBC at the same time. I never know what to blame my mood on. “Bye. I’ll text whether or not I’m coming home.”

  Candice’s eyebrows went up. The driver did not react. Nobody in Monroe’s employ reacted to anything.

  The driver escorted her downstairs, where a small crowd gathered around the limousine. Wow. It’s the nice one from the other day. People in denim shorts and tank tops took pictures with their cell phones while the driver opened the back door. No wonder Monroe didn’t want to get out and risk the undue exposure. Surely, he was inside, right? Come to greet his beautiful date, right?

  Alice was all smiles as she thanked the driver and hopped inside. It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness within, but there were two things she quickly noticed.

  One, that freakin’ cologne. Perfume. Whatever.

  Two… she was alone.

  Alice looked around in disbelief. The divider was down between the back of the limo and the front seat, where the driver situated himself and started the car. “Where’s Monroe?” Alice asked, barely loud enough for the driver to hear her.

  He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Mr. Monroe will be waiting for us at the destination.” For the briefest moment his inner feelings betrayed him: his brows curved downward, almost in regret. “His fundraiser this afternoon ran over, ma’am. He wanted to come see you himself, but asked me to get you so you’d still be on time. Please, allow me to drive you to the Magistrate’s Ballroom.”

  Alice vaguely knew what and where that was. Somewhere downtown, of course. “Go on,” she said. The windows may have been tinted, but she could feel the crowds gathering. “Might be a good idea to get out of here while the roads still aren’t blocked.”

  She received the smallest hint of a smile. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  The Magistrate’s Ballroom was indeed in the middle of downtown. No wonder Alice never paid it any mind before now. Looks like the kind of place boring business is done. Yet another glass-faced skyscraper overlooking the river as it meandered through the CBD. Magistrate Tower harkened back to the colonial days, didn’t it? Perhaps some old British magistrate had his residence here. Or maybe an office. Was there a plaque somewhere that Alice could read?

  Yet the Tower was more than it seemed. The moment she entered the lobby, she was transported to a different world. Sure, there was the receptionist’s desk, plenty of security patrolling the perimeter, and elevators taking workers and clients alike to proper offices… but the back of the lobby boasted a large sign that pointed the way to the Magistrate’s Ballroom. “The Fellowship Fundraiser 2016” an attached sign said. “From Noon to Four.”

  Well, it was six now. There were still people in suits and designer dresses milling about the lobby, sipping champagne and complaining about this and that. When they weren’t kissing ass, anyway.

  Alice stood on the edge, wishing she had kept the long skirt on her dress. She would have fit in a lot more, but at least people weren’t side-eying her. If she had shown up in one of her mere department store outfits, someone would have called her for what she was: a phony.

  What’s the Fellowship? She politely stared at the sign while waiting for Monroe to appear. Wherever he was. There were so many tuxedos in the ballroom lobby that they blended into one another. Obviously he was not one of the few blond or African-American men milling about. He probably was not a short guy or one of the ridiculously tall supermodel men. He’s taller than me. That’s what counts. Still, looking for a roguishly handsome man with black hair and stubble on his face was not easy today. Such a description brought her a dozen for every dime she was willing to spend.

  “Ms. Culver.” Somehow, in the midst of a dozen other blond women wearing black dresses, Ms. Sarah Clayborn had found Alice. Wow. She cleans up nice. Today Monroe’s female assistant wore a navy blue sheath dress cinched with a diamond-studded belt. No other accessories, aside from a pair of silver studs, but this was a woman who did not want to stand out in the crowd. Her job was to blend in with Monroe’s background wherever they went. “Mr. Monroe extends his continued apologies. We trust that your ride here – and the stylists – was satisfactory?” She gave Alice’s outfit a cursory look over. She neither smiled nor frowned. Then again, did she ever?

  “Yes.” Alice took a deep breath. Here she went. “They were… satisfactory. Is Mr. Monroe available yet?”

  The assistant whipped out her giant phone and checked her lock screen. “He has asked that you wait here for him. He should be out at any…”

  “Stop boring the poor woman, Ms. Clayborn.” Alice’s heart exploded in sudden excitement as the people in front of her parted to admit the only one she cared about. Monroe approached, his tuxedo so damn delectable on his figure that Alice had to catch her breath once more. Is this the guy I’m really going on a date with? She was talking as if they hadn’t even done it before! Wait… is this the guy I’m fooling around with? No way! One thing to see him in a dark club and be mostly entranced with his echoing voice and the scent of his body. Quite another to see him among his own kind, wining, dining, sucking the money out of pocketbooks for whatever fundraiser this was for. “My apologies for my tardiness, Ms. Culver.” He extended his hand. A few people looked on, whispering to one another.

  Alice turned her head. Were people waiting for her to do something? Oh, right. She should take his hand. His soft, firm hand that spent a good amount of time grabbing her breasts and tapping her ass while he sank his cock into her virginal (ha!) body.

  He still had no idea, did he?

  “No worries.” Alice lifted her hand and waited for him to take it. He did so, touching her delicate fingers and lifting them for a kiss. Murmurs echoed around them. I feel like I’m on display. Was her hair okay? How about her dress? Too short? Dear God, please don’t let her trip! “I know you’re a busy man.”

  “Quite.�
� Monroe lowered her hand, but he did not release it. Instead, he drew her closer, that gravitational pull once more luring Alice to her demise. Only now it was for all of high society to see. “You’re a busy woman. I hear you have a new job.” Was that a smirk at the corner of his mouth? Wow. He was actually capable of humor! Dry, sarcastic humor, but Alice could appreciate it when she knew that’s what she had to work with.

  She smiled back at him. “I had no idea that your family owned Blue Bird.”

  “Technically we do. We don’t run it, though. We run the company that does.”

  “Of course you do.” She couldn’t imagine either Damon or his father Russell getting directly involved with family dining. Did these people even eat hamburgers? Only Kobe beef burgers, to be sure. I always wanted to try Kobe beef.

  “If you wouldn’t mind humoring me for a moment, Ms. Culver,” Monroe began, turning to the finely dressed crowd gathering behind them, “I’d like to introduce you to some of my colleagues.”

  “Um. Sure.” She stepped forward with him, but something akin to embarrassment mounted in her veins. Was it because he was holding her hand? Because he wanted to introduce her to people? Here Alice had foolishly assumed that this man wasn’t interested in her. Not as a girlfriend. Yet would he be introducing her to people if he wasn’t interested in more than a few hookups?

  Wherever Monroe went, people parted to let him through. These people weren’t plebes like Alice and her ilk. These were well-dressed, well-mannered people heralding from all over the world, if their accents and formal dress style could be trusted. Why couldn’t they? Not like this kind of fundraiser attracted people without the means to drop some serious cash, whether that was in American Dollars or Indian Rupees or Korean Won.

  Women tittered in her direction. Others frowned. One woman held so much scorn on her face that Alice wondered if she was born that way. The men? The men were intrigued. These were probably the kinds of guys who kept a close eye on what type of women Monroe dated… and followed suit. A damn trend setter.