Owned: An Alpha Anthology

by Jani Kay

  I wasn't really sure what to say. And if this wasn't his thing, then what did he think of me at the moment? Especially after last night. I forced a smile, and he smiled back.

  "Sorry, I don't usually say things like that."

  Silenced sliced the moment in half.

  He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Actually, I'm not sorry. I meant my original statement."

  I laughed, then sipped my champagne.

  "What's funny?" he asked.

  "Nothing. This whole situation. It's—" I shook my head and downed a gulp.

  "Awkward. I know. Do you want to . . . sit? Chat? Maybe two people who have no business being here could entertain one another. See that guy over there?"

  I looked across the room and spotted a dark-haired masked man laughing at something. They made eye contact with one another. The Bartender leaned in and spoke so close that his breath on my ear caused tingles to rush through me. Feelings that I hadn't felt since . . . I swallowed.

  "That's my brother, and if he doesn't see me at least making an effort, well, then he will make me pack my bags and go stay at a hotel for the week."

  "We wouldn't want that, would we?" I smiled, keeping my voice low, and handed an empty glass to the waiter.

  Mr. Bartender led me over to an archway, and into a room with a couch that faced the flames of a fireplace. We sat and watched them rise and fall. The lights were low, and the fire cast a warm glow around the room as late night jazz played in the background. It was comforting to sit with him on the couch and not say a single word. There was no reason to ruin the moment with small talk or pointless words. Saxophones, pianos, and the tap of the snare drum almost whooshed me away.

  When the song ended and another started, he stood and grabbed my hand. Of course, I tried to back out, but he wasn't taking no for an answer.

  The song was slow, and seemed to speak to my soul in a way no other music could. He confidently wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I placed my arms around his neck, while his hands gently rested on my waist. When I breathed in, there was only smell fresh soap and man.

  Our bodies danced slowly to the music in the background, and a smile covered my face. I was dancing in an empty room with a stranger to fucking jazz. As the song ended, he spun me around in a circle and brought me back to him. Our faces were close, too close, and his breath danced upon my skin. I wanted to rip the mask off his face and solve the mystery, to see what was hiding beneath, but I knew the rules of confidentiality. Butterflies filled me as the space between our lips vanished. Our mouths slowly memorized each other's. The kisses were slow and intense, like the moment would never end. When the kiss deepened, the warmness of his tongue brush against mine. Emotions stirred inside of me, and by the time we pulled apart, I felt lightheaded and giddy. And I didn't feel giddy, ever. A high-hat beat set the tempo for the next dance we shared. It was as slow as the previous song, but Mr. Bartender added a few spins and dips. When I smiled at him, it was a real smile. Maybe, just maybe, swearing off all men was a bad idea. Was it possible a few good ones still existed in the world, and I was dancing with one?

  "Who are you?" I whispered. I had to know. I needed to know. He pulled me against him and ran his fingers through my hair. Before he could respond, Stacey was screaming in the doorway, tearing us both away from the moment.

  "It's time to fucking go," she said.

  I broke away from Mr. Bartender, and we both stopped and looked at her.

  "What the hell happened?" I asked, looking at her, then at him.

  "Some asshole recognized me. The fucker took pictures, then uploaded them to the Internet. My fucking agent called me and said it's caused a shit storm online. We've got to get the fuck out of here, right now."

  Before I could say goodbye, Stacey grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away.

  "Hey," he yelled holding my phone in his hand. I ripped my arm from Stacey's death grip and went to him. He had enough time to program his number inside of my contacts. "Call me, babe. I have a feeling this isn't over." He kissed me on the cheek, and I walked away. Speechless.

  I was at a loss for words. Relationships and Rox didn't go together, or did they? Stacey interrupted my thoughts as she pounded her fists against the steering wheel in a rage. The whole way across town, she was on the phone with her agent, bitching about how it was against the rules of the party, and how she could do whatever she wanted. And hell fucking no, she didn't plan on being a Playboy bunny. I looked in my phone and saw that all he’d programmed in was Bartender. I smiled and sighed as I stared out the window while the buildings passed me by.

  All I could think about was him, how soft his lips were, and what he truly looked like. I didn't even get his name. For a moment, I felt like a modern day Cinderella who had left her prince charming. Secretly, I hoped that we would meet again. The thought that love would never find me again was slowly crumbling to dust, and it was all because of a stranger. I didn't know what was under the mask, what his voice sounded like other than a whisper or yell, or even his name.

  I would call him.

  I would meet him.

  I would leave my options open.

  SINGLE: VOLUME 1 BY LYRA PARISH

  9

  Monday morning came too quickly. Not quite as fast as Alex did last weekend, but it was here before I knew it. After last night, I knew that the destructive path of one-night stands and sex clubs wasn’t going to work, but I couldn't linger on it. I wanted to forget Friday night happened, and after the pictures of Stacey spread around the Internet on Saturday, I wanted to erase that night, too. Well, not all of it.

  After I put on my lipstick, I looked at the clock. 7:45 a.m. "Holy shit," I said out loud, slamming the lipstick on the counter and practically tripping out of the door. I had fifteen minutes to get to the office for the interviews that were starting at eight, or my father would have my ass for breakfast. It didn't help that the rain was pouring, I forgot my umbrella upstairs, and the streets had inches of water covering them. People in Houston did not know how to drive when it rained. It was a war zone on the freeway, every man for himself, and I knew the 610 loop would be full of accidents. Apparently, in bad weather, people liked to drive like their insurance was better than the next guys, and I didn't want to risk it.

  As soon as I got into the car, I called the office. "Jane," I said breathlessly. "Please tell my dad that I will be there as soon as possible."

  She sighed on the other line. "Your dad is in the conference room already, and so is your grandfather."

  "Shit," I said.

  "They are about to start interviews. How long until you're here?"

  "I'm about twenty minutes away. The rain is slowing me down."

  "Alright. I'll try to stall. Just get here as soon as you can," she said and hung up the phone. Though she was my dad's secretary, she still had an alliance with me in situations like this.

  The rain pounded against the window so hard that I could barely see. I looked down at the odometer and noticed I was only going thirty. I pulled off the freeway and took a road that ran parallel with Westheimer, and what a fucking mistake. I hit every red light all the way down for three miles. By the time I showed up to the office, my hair had curled from the rain, my clothes were wet, and the clock had just ticked 8:30 a.m. Sometimes, I woke up and knew whether days were going to be good or bad. Somehow, I knew this one was sent to me straight from hell.

  The security guard met me at the front with an umbrella and saved me from more rain. He shook his head at me, and I gave him a sideways grin. We both knew I looked like shit, but it didn't matter. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, Jane met me and gave me the run down of this guy.

  "Lawyer. Just passed his bar. Had high marks in school and interned at a high-profile company in New York. Apparently, he is qualified, and boy is he a looker," she said. The last comment caught me off guard, because Jane was uptight with things like that.

  "How do I look?" I asked her outside of the confe
rence room where my certain doom awaited me.

  "Like shit, but there is nothing you can do about that now." She opened the door and, before I could say anything, she basically pushed me inside.

  "Sorry to interrupt, Mr. VanBuren," she said, then the door clicked behind me.

  All I could see was dark-brown hair and a navy suit. My father and grandfather glared at me for a long second as I walked in.

  "Mr. Williams, please meet Ms. Roxane VanBuren. She is the President of VanBuren Investments." Everyone stood, and he turned and shook my hand.

  Firm handshake, nice smile, high cheekbones, and long eyelashes.

  Jane was right. This man was a looker.

  "Nice to meet you, Ms. Roxane VanBuren," he said, then smiled. His voice dripped confidence and professionalism.

  "Please, call me Roxane. It's nice to meet you, as well."

  He slightly tilted his head and looked at me suspiciously. Had we met before? There was something familiar about him, but I couldn't quite place it. We released hands, and I joined my father and grandfather on the other side of the table.

  "Now, where were we, son?" Pops asked, and continued, "so you were just telling us about your internship in New York."

  "Oh, right. Mr. Jameson didn't tolerate tardiness. He had this saying that if we were ten minutes early, we were on time. If we were on time, we were late, and if we were late, we were fired. I learned punctuality from him, and was a sponge when it came learning the in's and out's of corporate law."

  I glared at him. Was he really making a jab at my tardiness during his interview? Was he fucking insane? Was he intentionally trying to blow this interview? Too many questions flooded me as my heart raced.

  "Mr. Jameson is one of the most prominent lawyers in the United States. He had glowing remarks about you, son, which I know isn't an easy feat, considering the man. Oh, we go way back, so it isn't an insult. You come to us highly recommended, Mr. Williams," my father said.

  "I see you live in Austin. How do you feel about relocating?" I asked.

  "Well, as I told both Mr. VanBurens earlier, it's not a problem. My brother lives in Spring, and has no problem with me staying with him. It's not too far of a drive, maybe thirty-five minutes. If I am the successful candidate, I can be here as early as you want me to be."

  My father and grandfather gleamed with delight, but Parker Williams was already pissing me off. Why would anyone in their right mind act like this toward their future boss? It was almost as if I had offended him in some way. What in the hell did I do?

  He turned his head to speak directly to my dad. "Sir. I can guarantee you that I will do everything that I can to make VanBuren Investments proud. I've done my research on the company, and I have had several offers for positions at other places, but this is where I want to be. I love how you give back to the community and are family oriented. It really says a lot about the mission statement that's hanging in the waiting area. I take pride in my work, and I want to take pride in where I work. VanBuren Investments would give me that opportunity."

  And that was when my dad fell in love with Mr. Williams. I could see it all over his face. I wasn't sure what was said before the interview, but at this moment, Parker Williams seemed too cocky for me, and I hated how he tried to butter everyone up.

  "Well, Mr. Williams. Do you have any questions for us?" Pops asked.

  "When can I start?" He laughed, and I wanted to roll my eyes. That was the oldest, corniest question in the book.

  "We will be placing acceptance calls in the next few days. I believe we want everyone here by Monday. If you find you have any questions in the meantime, here are our cards. Please feel free to reach out to us at any point," my grandfather said. Then it was over and we all stood.

  Parker firmly shook my hand and told my dad how much of a pleasure it was to meet him and my grandfather. After he saw himself out, my grandfather turned and looked at me with a scowl, but before he could say a word, my dad interrupted. "Unacceptable. Unacceptable, Roxane. You were aware that the interviews started at eight a.m., weren't you?"

  "Yes, sir." I felt twelve again.

  "And? Any reason as to why you decided to walk in here late? You should have just stayed in the hallway and waited. Next time, do not interrupt an interview that's in progress. It throws everyone off of their game. Not to mention, it makes you look bad."

  "Yes, sir," I said. There was no use retaliating. This wasn't the first time he’d talked to me like a child, and I was sure it wouldn't be the last. My skin had grown thick over the years because it was my dad being, well, my dad, but with his boss hat on. I released a deep breath.

  "Go get some coffee, Rox. You look like shit," Pops said with a smile.

  "Thanks, Pop." I walked over and poured myself a cup of steaming hot coffee, then sat down at the long conference table. They each had notes scribbled on paper about Parker Williams.

  "So, what did you think?" I asked, while sipping the coffee.

  "I want to hire him," Pops said, and Dad agreed.

  "But we haven't see any other candidates yet," I said.

  "If Jameson would give him a high recommendation like he did, then I want him. Jameson is a total ass, who thinks no one can do any good. He said Parker was the best intern he’d had, that even he offered him a job, but Parker said he wanted to be in Houston, and that he wanted to work with us. That says a lot about our company. And I don't doubt one bit that he has had offers from all over. He's one of the most wanted new corporate attorneys right now."

  Pops looked at me. "What do you think, Rox?"

  "He seems arrogant, doesn't he? Like he knows that he is good?"

  "He is good," Dad said, then continued, "he’s more qualified than anyone else, and I think he's the one. I just have a good feeling about him. I believe he would be a good addition to the VanBuren family."

  "We will continue on with the interviews scheduled for today, but at this point, someone will really have to dazzle us to beat him," Pops said.

  After four hours, and every single person saying he or she was a hardworking employee, I knew that no one had come close to Parker Williams. I wanted so badly for someone to be better, more qualified, have a better recommendation, but the truth was, not one of them had.

  After the last interview, my dad laid every resume out on the table. I was mentally exhausted. The attorney position would be between Parker Williams and Lou Hoang.

  "Alright, we will vote," Pops said. "For Parker."

  Dad and Pops raised their hand, and I sat there staring at them with no hand raised.

  "Outvoted, pumpkin. You two will work fine together."

  "Fine," I said, raising my hand. "I kind of knew this would happen. We have to do what's best for the company, and he is the most qualified. There is just something about him."

  "Confidence is what we need in a lawyer. Maybe you could learn something from him," Pops said.

  "I do not think so," I said quickly, and the attitude in my voice wasn't lost on my dad, but he ignored it.

  "So, let's decide on the secretaries. It's between Christina and Penelope," Dad said.

  We raised our hands and discussed further. Christina won the vote unanimously.

  "Now, let's decide on the accountant. We've got Duke, Grant, and Denise," Pops said.

  I looked over at the clock hanging above the door. It was close to five, and I knew that I might as well stay until seven because the traffic wouldn't be worth fighting.

  "My vote goes for Duke. He seemed the most personable. You know how accountants are. Death, doom, and destruction, with hardly any personality," I said.

  Dad spoke up, "I take offense to that. I've got personality."

  "Sure you do, Dad."

  Pops laughed, and we all decided on Duke.

  Dad stacked the winning resumes in a pile, and handed them to me. "Call them tomorrow, pumpkin. Let them know they were the successful candidates. They can show up on Friday for a tour of the building and lunch with us, or we can do it
Monday. Whichever day they choose."

  "Yes, sir. I'll do it first thing in the morning," I said.

  We all stood, happy with our decisions. I walked back to my office and thought about the new people that would be joining our family as I looked over their resumes.

  Parker Williams was in bold lettering across the top. It was actually one of the best-formatted resumes I had ever seen, and confidence dripped right off the pages. Imagine that.

  SINGLE: VOLUME 1 BY LYRA PARISH

  10

  The night was upon me, and I couldn't sleep. I stared at the ceiling and thought about the day. First impressions were so important to me. I hated arriving late, but it seemed as soon as I walked in, Parker was interviewing me, not the other way around. There was something about him, but I couldn't exactly put my finger on what it was. It could have been how my dad was so in love with him, or the fact that he was borderline cocky. If he ended up being sexist, I would be putting my size nine in his ass in the form of workload, of course. I shook my head and rolled over in bed. For hours, I tossed and turned because my brain wouldn't stop thinking. I opened my phone and texted the Bartender.

  Me: Hey. I'd love to meet up for coffee sometime next week, if you're available.

  My phone dinged, and my heart slightly raced. I opened the message and read:

  Bartender: Sure. I'd love to. Just let me know when and where.

  Me: There is a wonderful little deli downtown that serves coffee. It's called Chello's. It's close to where I work so I can meet up during my lunch break, if you want.

  Bartender: It's a date. Let me know when.

  Maybe I'd ditch the whole single gig. As much as I've avoided real feelings, I've known deep down that I shouldn't cross out the possibility of being with someone again. I have always heard that love happens when a person least expects it. I had become a walking contradiction after meeting him twice. To be in a relationship or to not be in a relationship, that was the question. Somehow, Mr. Bartender was already making me crazy. I shook my head because it was just coffee. It was harmless. And if it was during my lunch break, there would be no romance.