Monroe: The Dynastic Collection: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Cynthia Dane

  “Sorry for taking up your time, Ms. Culver. Have a nice day.”

  Mr. Clayborn took her arm more gently this time. Alice, too dumbfounded to fight him off, allowed herself to be escorted to the elevator and down to the main lobby of the building. The driver Monroe promised her waited there.

  “Have a good afternoon, Ms. Culver,” Nigel said with a quiet voice. “Sorry for any trouble.”

  She turned to him before the driver could make off with her too. “Does Damon know about that?”

  Mr. Clayborn did not respond. He bowed his head in acknowledgment and returned to the elevator.

  “This way, ma’am,” the driver bade, gesturing to the revolving door leading to the sidewalk and the car parked beyond it. “I’ll get you home quickly.”

  Alice went. She was still in a daze when the driver opened the door and she crawled into the back of a limo, not as nice as Monroe’s usual one, but still impressive nonetheless. Who was paying attention, anyway? Being dragged into a conference room and threatened by her boyfriend’s father was enough to give her shock for the rest of the week.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, I need to make a call.” The driver held up his phone before stepping to the corner of the sidewalk. Alice was ready to curl up in the backseat and call Candice to tell her about what had happened. Where was she now? At work? Cooking dinner at home?

  As Alice pulled out her cell phone to make such a call, however, the limo door opened and admitted a frazzled middle-aged woman she had never seen before.

  “Holy shit!” Alice exclaimed, holding herself to the back seat as this woman hurried to close the door behind her. “Who the hell are you?” She couldn’t take any more surprises!

  The woman’s curly red hair created a frizzy perimeter as she swung her head around. Oh my God! What is wrong with her face! Burn scars concealed themselves beneath a forest of curls. Half of the woman’s face was burned, restored with plastic surgery, and then seemingly left to fend for itself again. Alice gaped to see how it affected the corner of the woman’s right eye.

  “Are you her? Are you the girl from the papers? The one with Damon?”

  Alice’s mouth dropped open. She went to open the door and make her escape, or to at least scream for help, but the woman lunged forward and clapped her veiny hands over Alice’s.

  “Wait! Please! You’re her, right? I don’t know your name. I’m sorry for scaring you.” The woman released Alice, hesitating. When Alice didn’t go to open the door again, the burned woman continued, “I had to find you. To warn you.”

  Alice closed her eyes. What now? Who else wanted to threaten her? Sheesh. Was dating a billionaire really worth this stress? “If you want to threaten me like his father did, then save your breath. I got the message.”

  The woman moaned, hands slapping against her forehead, curls spilling between her fingers. I’ve gotta get out of here. She reached for the handle again.

  “He got to you! He got to you already!” Bright, blazing ambers swirled before Alice.

  As it turned out, Alice had it all wrong. Damon hadn’t inherited his eyes from his father at all.

  “You’re…”

  “Run!” Damon Monroe’s mother growled. “Run far, far away from those monsters. They only want to destroy you!”

  Alice shook her head. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Good.” The woman’s chapped lips were mere inches away from Alice’s nose. Those eyes? Filled with their own fears, traumas, and terrible memories coming to the forefront. Don’t look into them. Look away! Fire. Fire burned in the ex-Mrs. Monroe’s eyes. The fire that burned her? Alice was afraid to ask. “You should fear for your life. Get out while you can!”

  Something stirred outside the limo. The woman jerked to the other side, hastily opening the door and flying out – straight into traffic.

  Horns honked. Cab drivers screamed into the void. A cyclist fell over, protected by his helmet and pads, but still inevitably scraped up. The limo driver hopped into the front seat and turned to Alice.

  “What was that all about?”

  Alice couldn’t find the words. Or the breath. Or the wits to understand what had happened.

  “Dunno. Some crazy woman I guess.”

  The driver shrugged and started the car. Soon enough, he and Alice pulled away from the curb, heading toward her neighborhood.

  Alice let out the breath she didn’t know she harbored in her lungs. Beside her, a cell phone blinked to life with a text message.

  From Monroe.

  “I look forward to our future together, Alice,” it read. “I’ll make sure it’s the most memorable moments of your life.”

  Sounded like another threat to Alice.

  TRAINED

  Prologue

  The suitcase zipped shut behind Damon. He fixed his tie in the mirror, simultaneously inspecting his recently shaved face for any errant stubble. Better not be. For what he paid to have the best barber in the region to come by every other day to keep him groomed… well, if the man couldn’t do something as simple as make Damon’s face smoother than a worry stone, then he wasn’t the best, hm?

  “Did you get everything, Mr. Clayborn?” he asked his assistant’s reflection in the mirror.

  Nigel Clayborn nodded. “Yes, sir. Five suits, seven shirts, three pairs of pants, and plenty of undergarments to get you through your trip.”

  “Excellent.” The tie was meticulously finished by the time Damon walked away from the mirror. “Have Ms. Clayborn confirm that Ms. Culver will be joining me before we take off.”

  Damon didn’t like it when his obedient assistant didn’t act, hm, obedient. Whenever Mr. Clayborn looked like that, Damon knew that something sinister propagated beneath his feet. It was either boiling bad blood between the Clayborn siblings or… his father.

  “About Ms. Culver…”

  Damon shot his assistant a biting look. Before Nigel could nuke his own ass, someone knocked on the chamber door.

  “Ah, Damon.” Russell Monroe admitted himself without invitation. “Just the man I wanted to see.” He smiled at the packed bags lining the wall. “Ready for Chicago?”

  Damon tucked his hands into his pockets. “Everything should be in order.”

  “Excellent. I’m counting on you.”

  Once upon a time, Damon loved to hear that from his father. Not that Russell ever withheld praise. He always praised his son… when Damon earned it. He would receive no participation trophies, but he would receive a “good job” when he earned a trophy.

  His father’s praise had been a drug for a while. When an only son was rejected by his mother from an early age, it was natural to search for a father’s praise, wasn’t it? At least I’m past that now. He couldn’t say that about some of his contemporaries. Although Russell saying “good job” still felt pretty nice.

  “When I get back,” Damon began, relieved to see a relaxed demeanor on his father’s face. His moods could swing uncontrollably. “I’d like you to meet my new girlfriend. Perhaps we could have dinner together.”

  Russell’s expression remained unchanged. Yet the atmosphere? That completely changed in Damon’s private quarters. Russell had been brought up to speed about Alice, right? If he hadn’t seen the tabloids, then he at least heard about Alice’s existence through the corporate grapevine. Some shareholder or partner or direct underling would have said something about Damon cavorting multiple times with the same woman. His hookups and random one-night stands didn’t count. People only took notice if the woman repeated. Me asking him to meet her must be like a stab in the stomach. So was the day young Damon Monroe received the informal announcement that his perfectly matched parents were getting a sudden, messy divorce.

  He had only been what, six? Seven? Barely starting school, let alone boarding school. Mother Julia wasn’t around that much to begin with, but she always paid careful attention to her son when they were together. Even with nannies, Julia was in charge and had the final say in everything. “No, Damon, you didn’t finish
your dinner, so no ice cream.” “Did I say that you could touch that, Damon? Be a gentleman. Gentlemen don’t touch people or things without permission.” “You can have it if you promise to play with it. Do you? All right, but if this is like the last thing we bought you, then forget any toys for three months. Do you know how long three months is? A very long time.”

  To have that kind of guidance leave his life, never to be seen again outside of tabloid speculation, would have broken lesser boys. Particularly when said trash rags loved to lie about Julia’s supposed conditions. Schizophrenia. Paranoia. Narcissism. Some said she had burn scars all over her body. Others said she had tried to kill herself with Russell’s treasured Civil War pistol and was currently kept in a mental clinic. Damon’s least favorite lie that actually made him sue for libel was the one that implied she had beaten her son, prompting Russell to divorce her with no visitation rights.

  “Your girlfriend.” Russell was a plaintive speaker when he wasn’t impressed. “I had hoped you had moved on from her already.”

  Damon pretended he didn’t hear that tone in his father’s voice. Russell had only readily approved about three women in Damon’s dating life. Gale, the daughter of a Scandinavian shipping magnate; Patrice, a Georgian debutante whose family used to be one of the richest plantation owners in the Confederacy; Mika, a Japanese diplomat’s daughter with ties to the royal family and untold riches. That last one only got a pass because of the connections. Who cared if she wasn’t white if it meant the Monroes tangentially became Asian royalty? Russell had many business associates in Japan and South Korea. They were all in the business of making each other more money.

  Alice was white, but she had some of the worst breeding possible. Damon had looked into it shortly after realizing he was falling for her.

  Alice… Monroe had forgotten the fortune teller’s Tarot cards until that fateful night in which he met and seduced Alice Culver. She looked like that card. So many fortunate signs in such a short span of time.

  “You remember what you once told me about meeting ‘the one?’” Damon attempted to keep his countenance chipper. “I haven’t stopped feeling that since the moment I met her.”

  “Yes. At that club of yours.”

  Damon shrugged before grabbing his wallet off the nearest table. “Does it matter where I met her when it comes to my instincts?”

  “I’m happy for your current happiness. Truly.” Russell walked farther into the room. He nodded to Nigel Clayborn, who took the massive hint to get the hell out of there. As soon as the man had scurried from the room, Russell continued, “A father wants nothing more than to see his son succeed and be happy. Ensuring a good match for him is one of those keys to happiness.”

  Damon knew exactly where this was going, but decided to play dumb. He was too content with his thoughts of Alice to do otherwise. “Then you’ll be even happier to know that things are going well with her. I’ve already had her background checked out. No criminal history and a scholar.”

  “If you think I haven’t helped myself to her background too, then you might be a fool.” Russell sat in a white chair in front of the coffee table. “No one has ever heard of this Culver family. Her parents are a schoolteacher and a school nurse.” Russell scoffed. “I know I told you to follow your gut while you’re young, son, but you must realize that we have standards to adhere to. It’s one thing to have your fun with pretty but poor women. It’s another to make accusations that you think she might be the one. Come on, Damon, you’ve known her for what? A month?”

  “Short of that.” Damon checked his stubble again. Was that stubble he was seeing? Damnit. He wanted to be perfectly smooth for once in his life. Yet his facial hair always had plans of its own. He would sprout a full beard within two days if he wasn’t careful. Alice doesn’t seem to mind. That made him smile at his reflection. As long as Alice was happy with his appearance. God knew he was more than happy with hers.

  “When I was your age, I was falling in love with women and calling them ‘the one’ every other month.”

  “When you were my age, you were already married to my mother.”

  “It was an arranged match. You’re old enough for me to be candid about my feelings toward the woman. It was never love.”

  I figured as much. “What is this really about, Father?”

  “For your own good, Damon, break things off with this woman before you seriously cause some damage.”

  Damon turned toward his father. The man sat with one leg over the other, eyeing a painting of a lily in water.

  “What damage would I be causing?”

  “Do you really need me to give you a lecture about what it means to be a Monroe? You’re lucky your mother and I didn’t betroth you from the moment you were born. Certainly wasn’t due to a lack of interest the moment you were announced male.”

  “Because it went so well for you.”

  “Your mother and I had extenuating circumstances that made us the first in a long line of arranged marriages to divorce. Trust me. I did not take any pleasure in it. You’ll also notice that I’ve never remarried.”

  Would cut into your lifestyle, I’m sure. Damon and his father did not share predilections. “I do not fall in love lightly, Father. I’m not even saying that I’m about to ask Alice to marry me.” The thought may have entered his head once or twice, though. “I would like to at least cordially introduce her to you.”

  Damon could not read his father’s expression. That’s never a good sign. “I know she’s very pretty. That I cannot deny. You have good taste when it comes to the physical.” Russell stood. “Yet like you claim to not fall in love easily, I do not give out my advice on such matters as easily either. Quite frankly, this Ms. Culver isn’t good enough for you, Damon. Perhaps if we did not claim the status that we do. As it is, we need your future wife to be a woman of upstanding character and breeding. We know nothing about this young woman.”

  “I can assure you that she has upstanding character.” Well, she hadn’t tried to steal from him yet. She was already ahead of fifty percent of the women Damon dated.

  “Does she have excellent breeding?”

  “Unfortunately for you, I believe she’s of simple English and Irish peasant stock.”

  “Then she isn’t good enough for you.” Russell sighed. “I don’t say this to upset you. I say this because I am your father and I have to watch out for your future. One day when you are a father, you will understand.”

  Would he, now? Damon was never sure about that. It’s hard enough to imagine myself as a father, let alone what kind of father I would be. “What are you going to do to replace her? I fully expect a lineup of beautiful, well-bred women waiting for me when I get back from Chicago.”

  “You jest, but if that’s what you want, I can employ the matchmaker they use in Europe to find you more suitable matches. It’s true. You are now at an age where we must start considering your marriage status. I won’t live forever. Would be nice to see some grandchildren before I pass on from this world.”

  Damon pretended to inspect the luggage Mr. Clayborn packed on his boss’s behalf. “I don’t think a matchmaker would be necessary.” Bad enough his father was always inviting over other fathers to meet Damon… fathers with daughters. Well-bred daughters. Because nothing turned Damon on more than having women forced upon him.

  Hilarious enough, that really didn’t turn him on. He preferred to find women on his own. Like Alice. He had only been looking for her because he heard a new hostess was at his club. After that? Everything had been organic. The pursuit. The seduction. The never-ending thoughts as he tried to get back to his life after their first encounter. Alice had come so willingly, too. Sure, lots of women did, but with the fervor and the lust for experimentation that she had? Didn’t happen often.

  There was still so much to expose her to. At first, Damon was content with having a new plaything that reminded him of that beautiful woman he had been imagining for the past ten years. Then she told him that sh
e was a virgin when they first met.

  Hadn’t the fortune teller said something about that?

  “Let the girl go, Damon,” his father said. “It’ll be easier for the both of you if you do it now. She doesn’t get her hopes up, and you don’t…”

  Neither of them would say “get your heart broken.” The idea was silly. My father was far from heartbroken when he divorced my mother. Contrary to what the papers said, it had nothing to do with her beating him.

  “I’ll think about it,” Damon said. He stepped away from the luggage and checked his phone. No messages from Alice, but there were about five from Ms. Sarah Clayborn. “In the meantime, how about you let me be the adult we both know I can be?” Damon was ready to show himself out of his own chambers. “Your objection, however, has been noted.”

  Russell said nothing. Not that Damon cared. He was an adult, wasn’t he? Of course he was. So was Alice. Together they were quite the pair of adults.

  Damon pulled out the black box he had kept in his jacket pocket as soon as he was away from his father. The man would have feared it was a diamond ring. Not quite. More like his new pair of diamond cufflinks.

  They had his name on them.

  Soon so would Alice. His name on her body. Hearing his name in the back of her mind at all hours of the day. Physically. Emotionally. Psychologically.

  Legally.

  Soon Alice Culver would no longer be known by that name. Damon didn’t care what his father thought about that. Damon respected his father, but he was not subservient to him. Life was too short to be betrothed to anyone but the woman of his dreams.

  Chapter 1

  “Do you think I should pack more?”

  Candice looked at the two stuffed suitcases in Alice’s bedroom. “What the hell else are you going to pack? The last of your possessions? You look like you’re moving out!”

  If Monroe has his way, I might do that. How did one let a billionaire down? Cite the fact that they had barely been going steady for a week? “Sorry, Mr. Monroe, but we’re moving a bit too fast. Just last week I was letting you stick it in me for the first time. Now you’re spanking me and asking me to marry you. Can we slow down a bit? I need some breathing room to catch up. Also, are there SparkNotes available for what’s happened in our relationship so far? I’m woefully behind on my reading homework.”