Alpha Billionaire

by Deborah Garland

  Pure rage. Whoa.

  “What...” She cleared her throat and grew curious about the devil world Tristan had painted. It seemed more and more foreign from the man she’d gotten to know. Facing him again, she asked, “What’s the real appeal here? That you get to screw someone you don’t know?” And if she approached Jonathan as a devil player, would he turn her down solely because she wasn’t a stranger?

  Tristan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not necessarily. The same people show up each year for the most part.”

  “You’re banging the same people again, and again, year after year?”

  “Man, when you put it like that.” His head fell forward as he backed up against the railing.

  She palmed the soft waffle fabric of his Henley, his skin blazing hot underneath. Was he still hers to touch and kiss whenever she wanted? “I didn’t mean for that to sound judgmental.” She cupped his cheek, the sexy dark scruff felt so deliciously coarse under her fingers. And between her thighs earlier.

  “Would you have booked the cruise to be with him if you knew what went on here?” He leaned into her touch and towered over her.

  The question hit her from the opposite angle. If she could go back, would she still book the cruise? Then she wouldn’t have met Tristan and had crazy sexy time with the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. Jonathan was handsome, but damn, he couldn’t hold a candle to Tristan.

  She considered again how to answer him. “Maybe, if I’d known he came here looking for—”

  “He’s not looking for someone like you,” he said harshly.

  She tilted her head at him. “What does that mean?”

  “You deserve better than a meaningless fling.” His sweet breath on her face felt so warm and inviting. His nearness made her head fuzzy.

  “It may not matter. He’s probably going to turn me down. I’m not a stranger, like you said. Our work relationship might hold him back.”

  “I wish men were as noble as you seem to think they are.”

  “Sounds like you’re trying to change my mind about Jonathan.” She stepped back and crossed her arms, curious about his motives.

  The only thing that had changed her feelings about Jonathan, was Tristan. Setting the differences in their character aside, she made the glaring stark comparison that after three years working for Jonathan, she’d not had anywhere near the in-depth conversations with him like she’d had with Tristan. Conversations with Jonathan revolved around design samples, production schedules, and keeping costs down. Of course, he acted all suave and flirty, small touches on her shoulder here and there. He never once got personal with her or asked about her life. He was her boss, though, so some of that made sense. Especially in today’s workplace climate.

  Now she felt too ashamed to admit as time scraped by, her obsession grew more into a game. “When I considered looking for a new job, I knew my leaving would turn him very bitter. I’m his meal ticket. I’ll be dead to him once I quit. This is truly my last shot with him.”

  “He better not screw with you professionally when you quit.” Anger laced Tristan’s tone.

  His protective stare made her insides sizzle. “What about you?” she asked, wanting to reposition the spotlight.

  “What about me?” He stroked his chin, suggesting he missed the way she touched him just now.

  Sure, he could analyze her, but he didn’t like the tables turned on him. “I can’t imagine you save yourself for an entire year.”

  He flushed as red as the carpet in the fancy dining room sending Laney’s heart soaring.

  “Oh no.” She backed away, fearing she’d caught him cheating on a girlfriend or worse a wife. Even if either had given him a hall pass once a year.

  “Oh no, what?” He snagged her arm so she couldn’t get away. “I’m not in a relationship, Laney. There is...someone, though.”

  “I’d be shocked if there wasn’t.” She never would have expected him to stay celibate the other fifty-one weeks of the year. “Wait, you said you were in love once.”

  He released a rough exhale. “My college girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend.”

  “Where does she live?” Laney asked, hoping it was far.

  “California,” he answered. “L.A. She’s a workaholic, but gets to Manhattan a couple of times a year. She never stays for long, though.”

  “Good,” Laney spit out and slapped her mouth closed. “Did I say that out loud?”

  “I won’t lie.” He stroked her cheek. “I love that you want me all to yourself. It may seem like I enjoy all the attention I get here, but it’s just women wanting a turn with me and then happily handing me over to someone else.” His bitter tone took her by surprise.

  The weight of his words couldn’t be ignored. How he opened up to her because compared to the other women here, she gave him the same sense of satisfaction as his...ex.

  The only woman he’d ever loved.

  She swallowed. “Are you still in love with her?”

  “For a long time, I was. Beth didn’t want to live in New York. I didn’t want to move to California. We tried making it work long-distance, but life got in the way.”

  Beth. Hmmm.

  “When did you see her last?” Laney asked like this conversation had some happy-ever-after for them. Was she being stupid?

  “Over the summer. She, um...” Tristan snorted. “She showed up with this crazy new haircut.”

  “How crazy?” She found it odd he launched into talking about the haircut and not the sex.

  He shrugged. “She cut off all her blonde hair and has this wild and spiky thing going on. She also colored it fire-engine red and keeps getting more and more tattoos. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just another sign of how far apart we’ve drifted.”

  “Does she know about this?” Laney used the last of her cone to point to the deck they were on.

  Tristan scoffed, but then let a smile cross his mouth. “No.”

  “And have you told anyone else here about her?” she asked, strongly expecting a certain answer.

  “No,” he answered quietly.

  “I see.” Laney let that revelation sink in for a moment.

  Tristan held his mouth. “You must think I’m a real piece of shit.”

  “I think you’re someone who got your heart broken and you haven’t figured out how to move on. Instead of going from woman to woman in Manhattan, breaking their hearts, you’ve chosen...” She looked up and a shock of dark slicked-back hair and that exaggerated swagger blipped her radar. “This. Oh, shit.”

  Jonathan emerged from the tunnel striding by with a woman. Laney slinked behind Tristan, clasping the back of his Henley to keep him in place. The man was so tall, so broad, he blocked her easily. His hand came around and pressed her firmly against his back.

  No, Tristan didn’t want Jonathan finding her either, did he?

  As her face pressed against his muscular back, she dragged the spicy scent of his body into her lungs. The heat simmering beneath his shirt felt so comforting. She didn’t want to move. Ever.

  “They’re gone, Laney,” he said.

  After drinking in one more gulp of pure male power, she let go. “I bet you think I’m pathetic.”

  “Not even close. But Laney, what are you doing? You’ve wanted him for three years. You came on this cruise to be with him. He’s right around that corner.”

  Her throat closed, thinking Tristan was pushing her away. She’d opened a wound, forced him to talk about the love of his life, and now he wanted to get rid of her.

  She’d be better off getting back to her mission, anyway. Tristan had been a stupid distraction. He’d never want her for anything real. Now she’d rather be with Jonathan because all the talking and sharing and touching and being all nice and close afterward with Tristan messed with her head.

  Wham bam. That’s what she needed, the truth. Not a man misleading her into thinking they could share something real. The ache in her chest became damn near unbearable.

  Lan
ey stepped back. Time to course-correct. “You’re right.”

  A muscle in Tristan’s jaw jumped. “Laney, I promise you, he’s going to want you back once he figures out you’re willing.” His lips wrinkled, like a war had broken out in his head. “I’m not saying you need to go through with it. That’s your choice. No means no. And stop means stop. Can you imagine how good it will feel to know you got him?”

  That revelation made her grip the railing. She’d never thought of it that way.

  “And you can handle that? If I go through with it?” There she was, challenging him. To tell her what he really wanted.

  His gaze swept over her and heat sparked every speck of skin his eyes touched. “I can handle anything.”

  Sighing, she tossed the last bite of her cone in the trash and stuck her hand out. Very formal considering what they had just done. “Challenge accepted.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her and shook her hand back, the tight squeeze confusing her for a moment. After slipping her hand away, she spun and stalked to the elevator.

  “Oh hell. I guess you’re going to do this.” Tristan followed her, but didn’t get on when the car arrived.

  She quirked a fake smile. “I am. Everything you said was true.”

  Tristan nodded and folded his arms. “Have a good night, Laney.”

  “You have a good night, too,” she said after swallowing her lust and desire. “I was going to say maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. But you will see me. With Jonathan. So be prepared.” She winked and let the elevator door slide and smoothly close.

  Tristan

  BE PREPARED, Laney’s parting words to Tristan with a wicked gleam in her eye on that damn elevator echoed in his mind.

  Good going, asswipe.

  He couldn’t move from the elevator bank, too stunned to lift his feet. He just pushed Laney away. Why? Because she’d penetrated his soul, unraveling him. Bringing up Beth and reminding him that these cruises had originally been his revenge, out of hurt.

  That’d been years ago. Where was he now? Alone. Why? Because of this damn cruise every year. To avoid something real and meaningful fifty-one weeks of the year for one week of unbridled animalistic pleasure suddenly looked like a moronic way to live.

  The weeks leading up to this cruise had given him all the usual jolts of excitement. The minute he’d touched Laney, the real Tristan came roaring back. So far, he’d not been able to put the mild-mannered COO back into the bottle. No matter how hard he tried.

  That guy told Laney to go be with another man. The man who could get hurt. Every movement of his mouth telling her to go find Jonathan felt like biting down on broken glass.

  When the blood returned to his legs, he stalked off, taking a brisk walk on the ship using the salty air to clear his raging mind. The buzz in his pants fired him up. Laney. She changed her mind.

  Nope.

  Grunting, he answered his phone. “Luke, what’s up?”

  “No, fuck you, asshole, call me later?”

  “If you thought I’d answer the phone like that, why did you call?”

  “I like fucking with you, little brother,” Luke said with a sinister manly yuk yuk.

  I’m glad someone does.

  “I just, uh, finished with someone,” he said, which was the truth.

  “Nice. I’m glad your head is clear. Can we talk about section three of that buyout proposal?”

  He groaned. “Which section is that?”

  “The long one.”

  Ugh, he didn’t want to sell the hotel, but he’d rather discuss business at the moment. The setting sun meant it was time for food and a strong drink. “Let me grab some dinner. I’ll call you back in a bit.”

  He hadn’t even put the phone back in his pocket when it chimed again. His heart pounded hoping this time it was Laney.

  orgy tomorrow at the lighthouse

  So not Laney. The damn Facebook Messenger group chat. Were these people out of their minds? Orgies now? Casual, no-questions-asked sex wasn’t enough.

  Another chime.

  Cass: you in, Tris?

  Tristan stared at his phone. It was one thing for Cass to follow him around and urge him to her cabin when no one was listening or watching. Now she put him, the alpha, on the spot in front of all the devils. With his head in a whirl and not being able to think long term beyond the food he needed in his stomach and the whiskey fire he needed his veins, he bit down on his lower lip and typed:

  of course.

  He jammed his phone back in his pocket. Ignoring the symphony of chimes filled with ‘likes’ and the popping sound of colorful balloons going off, he headed straight to the sundry shop for the biggest bottle of Crown Royal his black card could buy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Laney

  The next morning, Laney took a lazy stroll to the lower deck with her coffee and a ginormous pastry she didn’t want anyone to see her eat. The ship had docked in St. Maarten and cruisers lined up on the upper deck to get the heck off the boat.

  She drank her coffee black, needing to wake up after a horrible night of tossing and turning. Playing out every possible scenario like John Nash’s game theory about what would happen when she asked Jonathan to sleep with her.

  If she asked him.

  When she asked him.

  If she asked him.

  Hence the fits of restlessness.

  This free-love boat game had blindsided her. Upped the ante. Jonathan came prepared to screw around and looked to be having his fill. Her original idea of just having a drink with him while thrusting her breasts and offering up her body would probably crash and burn. She’d stupidly thought this was a quiet getaway cruise for him. No, she had competition. Women who didn’t work for him were rocking his world on an hourly basis.

  That meant she had to make a compelling argument. Or some kind of bargain. Laney sipped her coffee and strategized some more while drowning her concerns in a bear claw.

  Her thoughts got hijacked when hundreds of glossy photos caught her eye. In a tunnel of color, she found herself surrounded by faces.

  “Do you need to pick up your pictures, doll?” a man whispered in her ear from behind.

  Laney jumped and spun around, her hot black coffee sloshing out of the lid and narrowly missing her yellow blouse. A nice-looking man with a thin face wearing a blue uniform smiled at her. “I didn’t have any photos taken,” she answered him, ignoring the ‘doll’ remark.

  “Everyone has a photo taken before they come on board, doll,” the man with a name tag, Ricky, said.

  “Oh right.” She forgot because the moment she’d taken her first step on the ship, she landed on her face.

  She followed Ricky to a counter with several white bins. Inside each container, blue plastic dividers separated bulky photo packages. The first envelope read: Patty Abrams, Cabin # 3028.

  All the bins were out in the open, unsupervised. A wild desire to see Tristan’s boarding photo stirred her. All she had to do was find the H’s. Her fingers danced innocently across the tops of the packages. A small jolt shot through her holding the envelope marked Hart. Hungrily, she pried open the flap snapping the dried glue from her fingers. She had to see the pictures.

  Taking her photo with Nikki had been a disaster because of the large unruly family before them. The photographer had kept waving her and Nikki into the spot in front of shameless marketing posters. But the previous family hadn’t moved so quickly. Laney hadn’t checked her package, but she was sure the remains of a few wobbly toddlers lingered in her shots.

  Tristan’s was clean. It was just him. Holy shit, was he beautiful. Thick expressive eyebrows looked darker in the photo dramatizing his manly features. His shoulders looked a bit slumped and the adorable pout on his face, like those Italian male models with crazy cheekbones, only made him look hotter. He’d kept a secret behind the frustrated smile.

  He’d been eager to find his fling. At least when that photo had been taken.

  “Ah. Mr. Hart.” Ricky’s voice
crept up behind her again.

  Startled, she shoved the pictures back in the envelope. “I, uh, didn’t realize I grabbed the wrong envelope.”

  Ricky took the pictures from her and smoothly slid them back in their packet holder. “You like Mr. Hart?”

  She wondered how to answer while he stared at her collarbone looking for the damn fire pin. “I’m not with his...group. But yes, I like him.”

  Ricky studied her and his mouth widened to a wicked grin. After looking around, he leaned into her ear. “His group booked a tour to the lighthouse.” He flipped through a list of names on a clipboard. “I don’t see Mr. Hart on the sign-up sheet, yet. But I’m sure he’ll be going.” He winked.

  Hmmm. What the heck was going on at the lighthouse?

  When Ricky’s phone rang, he put the clipboard down and began barking at the caller. Glancing at the list, she went breathless noticing her boss’s name at the top.

  According to Ricky, the free lovers were all meeting up. Some kind of pickup point? Doing it in the tower? Tristan’s name wasn’t on the list at all, yet Jonathan was number one.

  She swallowed a lump in her throat. Today was about getting Jonathan. Fate gave her a helping hand with this precious hint about where he would be. Otherwise, she would have been flipping her hair and pretending to drop shit all over the damn boat.

  “Are there spots left on that tour?” she asked when Ricky finished his angry call.

  “A few,” he answered, his eyes all, want candy little girl.

  Eek.

  “I’ll take one ticket.” She ripped her wristlet open and while Ricky ran her credit card, she texted Nikki.

  I’m leaving the ship for a few hours.

  Tristan

  TRISTAN LEANED ON THE railing of his cabin’s balcony looking out at the island of St. Maarten. The bright blue sky and hot breeze were a stark contrast from the gray winter clouds hanging over New York.