Alphas & Millionaires Starter Set

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Alphas & Millionaires Starter Set Page 51

by Brooke Cumberland


  I can tell from the pictures and articles that I found about him online that he was very passionate about one thing: the one thing he’s unable to do anymore—modeling.

  I try again.

  Denied.

  Shit. I’m running out of time. I shuffle through the papers on top of his desk for any kind of clue.

  Nothing.

  I open up the first drawer and spot a bunch of magazines. Men’s Fitness. I move them around and look underneath for anything and then as my fingers brush against the glossy pages—it hits me.

  I grab the magazines and flip through them. Men’s Fitness is a fashion and health magazine—models. Bentley use to model for a variety of magazines and photographers, but he was only represented through one agency—the most popular agency in the US—Elite Storm.

  With nothing to lose, I try one more time.

  E-L-I-T-E S-T-O-R-M

  Access granted.

  I squeal quietly as I gather myself back together and begin searching.

  Docs, files, and scanned images pop up in the folder. There are hundreds of them. They are all organized from month and year. I look for the month and year of my dad’s death.

  My heart is racing as I spot it finally. I double click and browse through the names on the folders.

  Anderson.

  Easton.

  Hunts.

  Rodriquez.

  West.

  I double click the last one and up pops all of my dad’s case information. I’m so stunned. My fingers are shaking as I move the mouse around.

  The folder marked police files is the first one I click on. The police report basically says what I already know from the newspapers and from the little my mother told me. Drive-by shooter. No helpful witnesses. Found six bullets.

  I try to think of how many times my dad was shot and how many shots I remember hearing. He was hit twice, which means four were missed—one grazed my shoulder, but I was nowhere near my father, which means the shooter was moving as he drove past our house and shot through his window. He didn’t slow down as I originally thought—he could’ve cared less that there were three kids outside and in the way of his target.

  It makes sense as to why my sister only partially saw the license plate and how the neighbors hadn’t seen anything. Drive-by. No stopping to make sure they even hit their target.

  I exit out and click on the witnesses’ folder. I know they spoke to my mother a few days after I was home from the hospital. She was a sobbing mess, but tried to keep it together for our sake.

  A friend of my mom was over when the detective came over to ask her questions. She took us out of the room, so I didn’t hear anything my mother told me, but this report outlined the conversation.

  She confessed that my dad was in debt to another man, but she claimed not to know who. My father had gotten into some financial issues and was working on repaying him. She said it was months ago, and the report said police weren’t sure if they were linked or not to the shooting.

  Another part of the report said the bullets were analyzed by technicians and were being put through the database for any matches to another crime. I know from my previous research that this was to cross-analyze against other shootings, but the results weren’t posted in the report.

  I click out of the folder to search through the evidence folder when I hear footsteps in the hallway. I quickly click out of everything and hold in my breath, but my heart races as I start plotting my way out of this.

  Without making the chair squeak, I quietly push backward and dip down underneath the desk. I squeeze under the desk and pull the chair in as much as possible. He can’t find out I’m in here.

  Bentley

  I wake up with the taste of her still in my mouth. The way her body tastes drives me insane. Everything about her makes me want more. The firmness of her breasts, the taste of her arousal on my lips, the way her body tightens around me has me desperately craving more of her.

  I’m thirsty as hell and decide I need to get up and grab something to drink. I roll over to kiss Ceci, but feel the cold bed under my hand instead. Her side is empty, and I start panicking that she’s left.

  My memory starts flashing back to the night’s events. My heart beats faster as I think about Ceci and her body pressed up against mine—her stunning face, mouth, and legs. She’s fucking gorgeous.

  The way she gave in to me, screamed for me, and released with me starts getting my cock hard again. If this is what being with Ceci is going to be like, I’m going to have a permanent boner.

  I find my briefs on the floor and slide them on before going out the door. I stumble to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water, chugging the entire thing before throwing it out and walking back down the hallway. I expect to see the bathroom light on, but it isn’t. I drove her here, so she couldn’t have possibly left.

  Unless she intentionally snuck out on me.

  The thought makes my blood boil. Leaving me like a one-night stand when I have clearly made her mine... My hands turn to fists as I walk down the hall to look for her.

  I open the bathroom door, but it’s empty.

  “Ceci?” I call. No response.

  I continue walking down to my office. The door is closed, but I step in anyway.

  The room is still and silent, as I expect it to be, but I call for her again anyway. “Ceci, you here?”

  Nothing.

  Fucking A.

  Rage builds inside me as I imagine the worst. She fucking bailed.

  I start storming out of my office when something on the floor catches my eye.

  Part of my white sheet.

  It’s peeking out from underneath my desk. I look up at my office chair and see it’s not pulled in all the way.

  She’s hiding.

  WANT MORE?

  READ THE NEXT INSTALLMENT TO BENTLEY AND CECI’S STORY:

  GRAB VOL. 2 ON AMAZON NOW

  What if time was the only thing that kept you from falling in love?

  What if you knew when your time was up?

  Kate Wesley knows about that all too well. When time is no longer on her side, she decides to live. To be spontaneous and live with no regrets. But her perfectly crafted plan is shattered when she meets Gabe and the moment he comes face to face with her, he realizes he doesn’t ever want to let go. No matter how fast she runs away.

  Life has a tricky way of catching up to you, of forcing your hand, of leaving you with no choice. Kate accepts her destiny and pushes anyone out that threatens to get close. But how will she feel when Gabe pushes back?

  Would you give your heart to someone if you knew it wouldn’t last forever?

  Would you risk it anyway for a chance at love?

  To Adele’s heartbreaking and inspiring music, Starbucks coffee, & LuLaRoe leggings.

  “Be brave and fearless to know that even if you do make a wrong decision, it was for good reason.”

  -Adele

  Table of Contents

  Prelude: Melt My Heart to Stone

  Track 1: Hello

  Track 2: Rumor Has It

  Track 3: Turning Tables

  Track 4: Set Fire to the Rain

  Track 5: Rolling in the Deep

  Track 6: Take It All

  Track 7: Someone Like You

  Track 8: Right as Rain

  Track 9: Crazy For You

  Track 10: Love Song

  Track 11: Love in the Dark

  Track 12: Hiding my Heart

  Track 13: All I Ask

  Track 14: Can’t Let Go

  Track 15: One & Only

  Track 16: Best for Last

  Bonus Track: Remedy

  Prelude: Melt My Heart to Stone

  Kate

  There’s nothing like a big slap of reality to get your life back in check. Correction: a strong, backhanded slap across the face that sends you reeling, tilts the world on its axis and never really levels out again so you can regain your stance.

  Yeah, it’s pretty painful.

&
nbsp; The whole “you only live once” and “live like there’s no tomorrow” couldn’t be truer for me.

  At least, now I knew the truth. My new reality.

  It’s not about ‘who wore it best’, who so-and-so is dating this week, or the tragedy that happens when the cable goes out.

  Those are petty and materialistic preoccupations that don’t mean a thing in the real world. The real world is about life and death. Survival and pain. Choices and consequences.

  After weeks of self-pity, I finally came to the conclusion that I needed to do something with the time I had left. Anything, really. Just to know I mattered, in some way. But time wasn’t on my side.

  After finding out, I broke up with my boyfriend, Kyle. We’d been dating for the past four years and he didn’t deserve it, but there was no point leading him on. I just saved him years of grief and pain, or so I keep telling myself.

  “Kate, don’t do this. I love you,” he pleaded, kneeling in front of me with his hands around mine as I sat emotionless on the couch. I knew he did…and that’s why this was so hard. I went with the Band-Aid approach—rip it off, fast.

  Get it over with.

  “Sorry, Kyle.” I focus on the floor so I don’t see the pain in his eyes. “I don’t love you anymore,” I lied, but I managed to say it with confidence. If I told him the truth, I knew he’d promise to stay with me, but in the end, he’d only regret his decision.

  And I couldn’t let him do that.

  “I can’t believe this.” He stood up, brushing both hands through his hair and pacing back and forth in front of me. I tried to remain calm, and appear unaffected in spite of how much this was hurting me—hurting him. I had to turn off my emotions—be an empty shell.

  Finally, he paused in front of me and with cold, dead eyes, stared at me as if I was the worst person on earth.

  “You’re a bad girlfriend, Kate,” he hissed, and I couldn’t even blame him for the words he spat at me. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. After everything we’ve been through, after everything I’ve done for you…how could you?”

  He took another step toward me, his face directly in mine as he bent down. “You’re a bad girlfriend…I’m lucky to be rid of you!” I knew his words were sliced from anger. I understood. He gave me everything—and in return—I couldn’t give him a thing.

  As soon as he slammed the front door in my face, I walked to the bathroom for a hot shower. My life was spinning out of control, whirling around like a tornado just waiting to touch land and destroy everything in its path. Things hadn’t been perfect, but after my mother’s death, Kyle was there for me to make sure I ate and slept. But that was three years ago. That was before he graduated at the top of his class in law school. Since then, he’d been hired as a law clerk, working under a judge, and we hardly spent any time together anymore. He’d sleep over a couple of times a week and then rush off to work the next day.

  As the water cascaded down my pale body, images of my mother and grandma come to mind. While most twenty-one-year-olds go barhopping to celebrate their birthdays, I spent mine sitting next to my mother’s bed, sobbing and praying. It was just after midnight when she passed away. She died on my birthday.

  Five years earlier, I was in a similar situation, watching my mom say goodbye to her mother. It was like déjà vu. Illness had now taken two of the most important people of my life.

  So when the doctor gave me that look of pity, I knew. He was the same doctor my mother had gone to two years earlier. She fought. She fought every damn day, but the cancer won. Breast cancer. By the time we found out, she was already in stage three. She was so caught up in caring for her own mother that she forgot to take care of herself.

  And apparently, history was repeating itself.

  As I toss my bags and suitcase in my trunk for my trip, I think about the way he looked at me that night. Like I had ripped his heart out of his chest and left him for dead.

  Although I know I did the right thing, I still miss him. He's never far from my thoughts. I wonder if he’s over the hurt I caused him, if he’s moved on yet, and if he still thinks of me. The only thing that gets me through the guilt is knowing he deserved so much more than I could’ve given him.

  I had allowed myself to become emotionally detached from Kyle in the weeks leading up to our breakup. I knew it was coming, I just hadn’t known how he’d respond. He’d been working a lot and hadn’t even noticed the increased doctor appointments, my change in behavior, or the fact that I went from being energetic and happy to depressed and hopeless.

  I can’t put all the blame on him, though. That’s not fair, considering I never told him the truth.

  He was supposed to come with me on this trip, something we planned months ago when Natalee announced her engagement, but now it was welcome silence.

  The silence makes me feel numb. Numb to the facts. Numb to reality. Numb to the ache in my chest anytime I allow myself to think about my fate, which isn’t often. Not anymore, at least.

  The truth is that I didn’t want Kyle changing his life plans for me. He graduated at the top of his class in law school and had just started clerking. It wasn’t exactly something you took a year off from. I could never let him jeopardize his career after all his hard work. Or perhaps the real fear was wondering if he would change his plans for me once he found out.

  Not knowing was better than risking that kind of heartache.

  Track 1: Hello

  Kate

  I smile the entire three hours it takes to drive from New York to Massachusetts. My cousin is saying I Do at the end of the week, and I’m her maid of honor.

  With the top down on my blue, Volkswagen Beetle, the wind blows my newly dyed blonde hair everywhere—bucket list number thirteen—and I speed down the interstate. As I sing along to Maroon 5’s latest hit, I finally pull up to Natalee’s house—rather, mansion. Hingham, Massachusetts—known for its colonial history and location on Boston Harbor—is stunningly beautiful in the fall. The leaves are just starting to change color and the weather is absolutely perfect. Natalee’s house is big—large bay windows and a white wrap-around porch adds to its beauty. It’s much bigger than what I’m accustomed to. It sits right off the shore, with the backyard leading to the water, and it’s simply breathtaking.

  I turn the music down as I pull my car up next to her brand-new, silver Lexus and kill the engine. It’s been months since I’ve seen Natalee. Months that I regret deeply, where I chose to hide away rather than be alive.

  But not anymore.

  No more sulking. No more being depressed. Life is too beautiful to be living it alone.

  With a positive attitude and a bucket list, I’m coming here with a new outlook on life. It’ll finally be my chance—my chance to live. I’m done hiding out. It’s my time—probably my last chance—to be spontaneous, wild, and carefree. If time isn’t going to be on my side, I need to make the most out of this life while I can.

  Natalee’s asked me to stay an extra week after the wedding to housesit during their honeymoon, so it’ll just be me, the water, and fall leaves. I left my job more than two months ago—a job I had worked tirelessly toward for four years while studying at Syracuse University—but now a job that was useless to me. I wasn’t going to waste my time working.

  Natalee asked me repeatedly if staying two weeks was too long, but I was more than happy to do it. They’re getting married in six days—on Saturday—and I know she’s going to need all the extra help she can get before the big day.

  She’s had her wedding planned since she was six years old, down to the flower bouquets and flavor of the cake.

  The very idea of having to plan a wedding shoots anxiety throughout my entire body. The cost alone makes me want to jump off a cliff, but that was something Natalee never had to worry about.

  We grew up in very different circumstances. My Aunt Lauren—Natalee’s mom—married a very wealthy businessman. Natalee grew up in a lifestyle that most people can only dream about. Wealthy, p
roper, elegant. She grew up around maids, nannies, and never hearing the word “no”. You wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t know that about her. She’s the most humble, down-to-earth person I know.

  Aunt Lauren passed away when we were teenagers, and Natalee’s father—Uncle Mark—died in a ski accident a short time after that. Natalee, being an only child, inherited everything. So when she told me she was engaged, I knew there’d be no shortage of funds to make sure it was exactly the wedding she and her mother had planned years ago, before she died.

  I barely slam my car door shut when I hear her heels clicking against the wood of the porch.

  “Kate? Is that you? Oh my God!” she squeals, her eyes lit bright. “Katie Bear! You’re here!”

  “It’s me,” I say with a smile. She flails her arms as she runs toward me, pushing my entire body back against my car. “A bit much?” I laugh as she wraps her arms tightly around me.

  I start to choke, desperate for air when she finally releases her death grip. “Sorry, I’m just so excited you’re here!” Her eyes widen as her voice goes up an octave. “Oh wow, your hair! I love it!” She threads her fingers down my blonde hair that was previously a rich chocolate brown. “You look so good. Getting a little too skinny though.” She takes my hands in hers. “Oh my God! There’s so much to do!” I can tell she’s a bundle of nerves by the way she’s rambling and practically jumping up and down.

  “Me, too.” I really am. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for weeks. “I’ll help anyway I can.”

  “Thanks for being here, Katie Bear.” Her face goes soft. “You’re all I have.”

  Oh God.

  To hear her say those words makes this whole situation a living hell. I wish I could tell her, prepare her for what’s to come, but I can’t do that to her. Not when this is supposed to be the happiest time of her life.

 

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