Alphas & Millionaires Starter Set

by Brooke Cumberland

  Well, she better fucking be, since she’s basically my last hope.

  My jaw ticks the moment she walks in the room. I try to hold in a laugh as I take in her librarian-wannabe wardrobe. I know most girls don’t wear that. Hell, I was in college only four years ago. I know for a fact girls her age wear a lot less clothing.

  She smiles and takes a seat as she greets us. Her voice is filled with passion as she begins talking about the company. She has sure done her research and then some. She’s the only one to go into depth about our charitable foundations, and I’m hit with an immediate attraction to her capabilities.

  Her face is genuine and soft as she talks about herself and how she’ll make a good asset to the company. Her hair is light brown with blonde peeking through. Her skin looks silky and soft…and holy shit…I’m describing her looks as if it matters for the job. It doesn’t.

  But it sure as hell doesn’t hurt.

  She’s the most intriguing of all the applicants. Her self-confidence is obvious, but she’s also one of the smartest we’ve interviewed all day. The way her body shifts easily between the three of us, to the way she passionately speaks about my father’s business, has me feeling an uncanny attraction to her.

  Once the interview is over, I sneak a glance at her ass as she walks out. Bad habit, I suppose, but damn if I didn’t like what I saw. I shift uneasily in my chair as I watch her leave, needing to tame my cock before I can stand up and walk out of here.

  Truthfully, her application and her interview were by far the best I’ve seen all day, but I’ll need to dig into her background to double check she isn’t a fraud or a secret Russian spy.

  * * *

  “All right, I’m out for the day,” I announce to Erika.

  “Sir, you have a message here from a Professor Hennings.”

  “Oh, shit,” I groan. It’s Casey West’s guidance counselor. I had called to verify all the information she gave us was correct.

  “Do you want me to call back and schedule a time?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll just call back tomorrow.”

  I’m not in the mood to do anything else intern-related. I don’t even care for interns, yet it was ‘part of the business’ as my father said.

  We’re a teaching company, son.

  I didn’t need a damn intern, but since it’ll keep my dad off my back, I have to play nice.

  We’re a team.

  Be a team player.

  And yadda fucking yadda.

  If I have to deal with an intern every Saturday for four months, she should at least be hot—give me something to look at.

  Before you go judging my character about noticing pretty girls, you should know I work in an office with seventy-five percent men. That’s a lot of sausage to be looking at. My college party days are way over, and even if I wanted to party, I wouldn’t have the time. The second I graduated, I was forced into working here and learning to ‘take over’ so my dad can eventually retire.

  It isn’t that I hate working here. I love what I do, but I’m not ready to give up my life yet. I would’ve eventually joined the family business but at my own pace. I hadn’t been given the chance to live my life my way or make decisions on my terms.

  The only thing that keeps me from jumping off a bridge is that I actually do love the aspect of reporting and writing—case files are a close second—but reporting about the solved ones are the real highlights of this job. And my life. But now, there’s no intermission for girls in my life. The occasional hookup isn’t uncommon, but the last thing I wanted at my age was to be tied down.

  To anyone.

  I pour two fingers of whiskey before taking a seat on the couch. I grab the remote and flip through channels until something interests me. Nothing does, so I pour two more fingers of whiskey. I do this about two more times before I stumble into my room and pass out on my bed, fully clothed.

  * * *

  The week flies by, and I completely forget about calling all the interns references. It’s already Thursday, so I say fuck it and tell Paul just to pick one.

  “You can’t seriously just say pick one? She’ll be working mainly for you.”

  “Fine, the hot one.” I wave a hand in his direction as I continue typing away on my computer.

  “And that would be?” He stands eagerly in front of my desk.

  “I don’t know…Cathy, Corrine, Casey something. The last one,” I ramble.

  “Ah…Casey West,” he offers.

  “Yeah, she was the best one for it anyway.”

  “And that ass wasn’t bad either,” he responds dryly.

  My body ticks at the way he’s describing her. I know I’m not much better, but hearing it from another guy—especially Paul—fuels my urge to punch him in the face.

  “Don’t say shit like that,” I growl as I slowly raise my head to look at him. The expression on his face turns from supercilious to baffled.

  “Relax, man. Did you call her counselor or references?”

  I want him out of my office so I can finish reports, so I tell him what he wants to hear.

  “Yeah, yeah. All good.”

  “Great, I’ll call her this afternoon and have her begin this Saturday.”

  “Good, fine. I’ll be here, I guess.” I come in every Saturday, so I’ll be training her.

  Fucking hell.

  He leaves without another word, and I continue typing hard against the keyboard. There’s a huge case that’s just had a breakthrough. I hurriedly type it out so I can get it online ASAP. Most of our customers are online. We try to get our reports out first before anyone else can.

  “Casey West will be here eight a.m. this Saturday,” Paul informs me over the phone. My body tenses up at the sound of her name. “Do you want your assistant here just in case?”

  “In case of what?” I scowl. “She can’t figure out how to work the coffee maker? No, I think we’ll manage.”

  The truth is I want her alone, without interruptions. Her personality and confidence have me completely captivated, and I want to know more about her—without my assistant getting in the way.

  “You have to teach her more than just how the coffee maker operates,” he warns. “She could potentially want to apply here after graduation. By teaching students the ropes of the job, they’re already pre-qualified to work here.”

  “Yes, I know, asshole,” I snap. “You don’t need to repeat everything my father tells me, you know?”

  “Oh, you mean you don’t want to have the talk about the birds and the bees?”

  “Screw off, man. I’m not a child.”

  “You’re twenty-six,” he laughs. “You may as well be.” And then he hangs up.

  Working here is a joke. No one takes me seriously, being the son of the CEO. Everyone thinks I’m here because of daddy, and technically, I am, but I could’ve scored this job without his help. I double majored in college, earned above average grades, and did a lot of community work. I was no one’s charity case. I could fend for myself.

  I’m browsing through emails on my phone as I ride the elevator down to the lobby. It halts on the third floor, and I back up to let more people on. I don’t lift my head up as the elevator starts again, but suddenly I’m hit with the sound of laughter.

  It’s innocent, young, and vibrant. I’m curious, so I shift my body to get a better view of her. My eyes find the young girl in the front by the doors. I watch her from the side and notice she’s on her phone. She’s smiling wide and laughing with whomever she’s speaking to on the phone. The doors slide open, and I walk around a few people to exit, except the girl doesn’t move and I crash right into the back of her, pushing us both out of the elevator before the doors close. Instinctively, I wrap my free arm around her waist to catch her from face planting the floor. Her back is pressed against my chest and for a moment, I don’t want to let go.

  Her phone isn’t as lucky. It slips out of her hand and lands on the lobby floor.

  “Shit,” she curses and my arm frees her
to bend down and grab it off the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” I begin apologizing as I step back. My eyes wander to her bare legs and up her toned thighs, to a pair of black workout shorts. She’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt as if she’d been running or working out. I can smell the fresh sweat on her, but it doesn’t turn me off. In fact, it does the exact opposite.

  “That’s okay.” Her voice cracks as she turns around, and I finally get a good look at her. “Oh, Mr. Leighton,” she says, surprised, and I immediately curse the bad luck that brings me to my new intern—Casey West.

  “Miss West?” I finally say as she stares up at me in silence. “I thought you weren’t coming until Saturday?”

  “Hide your disappointment, Mr. Leighton.” The corners of her mouth perk up into a cocky smile. “I was just picking up the paperwork and doing all the background check questions.” Her witty personality is spot on just like the last time.

  Everyone that works or interns at Leighton Enterprises goes through an extensive background check for security reasons. All of the files are confidential, and only journalists reporting on the stories can know the exclusive information.

  “Ah, yes. Of course, the paperwork.”

  Paul failed to mention she’d be here today…

  She continues eyeing me, and I wonder if she feels the electricity between us as much as I do.

  “Well, I’ll see you Saturday, Mr. Leighton,” she says, smiling seductively up at me. She quickly turns around and begins walking toward the lobby doors.

  I put my phone in my pocket and shake the thoughts of Casey out of my head. This is crazy. I can’t think of her like that. She’s my goddamn intern.

  * * *

  Being a model all through college and graduate school, it was never hard to find hookups. Hell, they came to me. It was a much different lifestyle than I have now—everything was handed to me on a gold-lined platter. The clothes, partying until 4 a.m., limos, drinks, endless numbers of girls throwing themselves at me—it was all part of the lifestyle.

  And now?

  The partying has stopped. The limos, drinks, and endless girls stopped. Suits and briefcases became my new wardrobe, and my modeling career vanished as if it never even existed.

  I work sixty-plus hours a week, take shit from my colleagues who have no faith in me, and have become a walking/talking puppet for my father, who wants to mold me into the future CEO.

  The family enterprise isn’t what I have an issue with, but the fact that I’m twenty-fucking-six years old and the last thing I’m thinking of is settling down. A part of me wishes for my old life back, just to give me some sense of clarity, but that’s no longer an option for me.

  * * *

  By Friday, my mind is fully consumed with thoughts of Casey. Since the interview and bumping into her the day before, my mind has been places extremely inappropriate for someone that’ll be working for me.

  I realize I need to get the hell out of this office and clear my head. I call Ryan, another colleague of mine, and tell him he needs to go out with me tonight. He doesn’t argue, so we plan to meet up at 10 p.m. at the Dusty Row bar.

  I change into jeans and a fitted t-shirt before heading out to meet him. The only thing on my agenda tonight is to get drunk and hopefully, lucky.

  * * *

  I wake up to the blaring sound of my alarm clock. Six forty-five a.m. is flashing in bright red lights on my iPhone.

  Oh, fuck.

  I slowly roll over on my bed and smack into someone on the other side. I quickly rack my brain for memories of last night, but there aren’t any—well, not many at least.

  I remember beer.

  Girls.

  Shots.

  More girls.

  Liquor.

  Naked girls.

  That about sums it up.

  “Hello?” I shake her until one eye peeks open. “You need to leave, sweetheart. I have to go to work.”

  I grab a sheet and wrap it loosely around my waist. I walk to my closet and pull out my suit for the day, partially excited that I get to ‘train’ my new intern—my hot-as-fuck, librarian-looking intern.

  “On the weekend?” she asks lazily as she shuffles around on the bed. “Mm…” she moans and pats the spot next to her on the bed, “come back to bed.”

  “I can’t. I have to get in the shower. See your way out?”

  Her expression tells me she’s offended, and her loud stomping on the floor clarifies that I’m right.

  “Do you even remember my name?” she asks angrily as she scoops up her clothes that are scattered on my hardwood floor.

  I smirk as she inches closer to me. “Do you remember mine?”

  She scowls. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Take a number, sweetheart. You aren’t the first one to think so,” I call out after her. She’s stomping down the hallway, and I just shrug.

  * * *

  Walking into work feels different today. I know it’s because I’ll be seeing her again and that she’s my intern. And knowing that she’s completely off limits.

  I’m already in my office logging in reports when there’s a soft knock at my door.

  “Come in,” I answer without looking up. I vaguely see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s not in her Grandma-wear, but she’s dressed appropriately for an office job—black, sleek skirt and a red shirt. I vaguely take in her shirt, noticing it reveals much more skin than before.

  “Good morning, Mr. Leighton,” she says confidently. I finally look up and curse myself immediately for doing so. Getting a better view of her, I notice her clothes are clinging tightly to her, showing off every curve and her taut nipples. She’s smiling ear-to-ear and resting her hands in front of her.

  “Good morning, Miss West. Welcome.”

  “Thank you.” She smiles at me, and I swallow. “Oh, I forgot to say thank you for this opportunity. I’m absolutely grateful.”

  “Sure, well, you deserve it,” I reply kindly.

  “Oh, and please call me Ceci. I mean if that’s okay,” she stammers nervously.

  “Ceci?” I raise an eyebrow.

  She giggles, and it nearly kills me. That sound. The sound of her laugh is probably the best sound I’ve ever heard.

  “Yeah…” she begins, shifting back and forth on her feet, “it’s a nickname,” she explains. “My younger brother couldn’t pronounce my name when he was a toddler and ended up calling me Ceci. And well, it’s just stuck all these years, I guess.”

  “Sounds good. Ceci it is.” I roll her name with my tongue, and it feels good…as if I could say her name over and over again.

  “What would you like me to do? Do you have some kind of list or agenda that you’d like me to follow? A schedule perhaps?”

  That was supposed to be on my to-do list last night. Shit.

  “Well, first. Do you know how to operate a coffee maker?” I grin.

  She gives me a worried expression, and I’m afraid I might have scared her off already.

  I smile and grab my wallet out of my back pocket. “Never mind. There’s a Starbucks one block west from here. I’ll take a dark coffee, two sugars. And whatever you’d like.” I hand her my company credit card and her hand briefly grazes mine before taking it.

  “Absolutely, sir. I’ll be right back.” She spins on her heel and is out the door in ten seconds flat.

  While she’s gone, I try to think of things she can do when she returns, so I don’t feel like a goddamn babysitter, but it’s so hard to concentrate when all I can think about are her damn legs.

  Note: No allowing skirts at work.

  On second thought…

  Only short skirts allowed.

  CHAPTER 4

  Bentley

  I wait impatiently until she walks back in, sashaying her hips with ease. She gently places my coffee on my desk and smiles up at me.

  Now what do I fucking do with her?

  Shit…there’s a lot I’d like to do with her.

  “Dark coffee, t
wo sugars, sir.”

  “Thank you,” I breathe out. I give my attention back to my computer, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave.

  “Sir?” Her voice cracks. “Where would you like me?”

  My jaw twitches at the image she’s just put in my head with her innocent innuendo. I try not to stare at her, but the way her soft, pink lips are perking up at me makes it hard to tear my eyes away.

  “I’ve made a list—you can start with that,” I respond coldly. She doesn’t deserve it, but I need to remind myself of the situation we’re in currently.

  Boss.

  Intern.

  Off limits.

  She inches closer to grab the list from my hand, slowly brushing her fingers over my knuckles. She keeps eye contact with me the entire time, completely pissing me off. This girl wasn’t a scared little intern, and she wasn’t intimidated by my authority. Hell, I bet she even takes charge in the bedroom.

  “You can go now,” I toss out.

  This girl was either messing with me, or completely oblivious to the way she could attract men. Either way, I couldn’t have that in my office. This was strictly business.

  Or so that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.

  “You can use the office across from mine for now. Mr. Baumann doesn’t come in on Saturdays,” I add before she turns on her heel and walks out. She needs to be far away from me right now.

  I grab my coffee and bring it to my mouth. The smell on the lid grabs my attention before I take a sip. I bring it up to my nose and smell her scent—a mixture of fruity lip-gloss and expensive shampoo—as if she took a sip of my coffee before she gave it to me.

  I instantly adjust my pants at the thought of her lips on my coffee lid. It’s an innocent gesture, but smelling the scent and imagining where I’d want those perfect, warm lips is anything but innocent.