Reluctantly Alpha (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 8)

by Ruth Cardello

  So, yeah, I’m tense.

  I haven’t had sex since I met her. Can a man die from prolonged abstinence? I don’t know, I’ve never experienced a dry spell before. For all I know my dick will shrivel up and drop off. God knows, it hasn’t worked right since Angelina gave me a tour that was so long and so boring I had time to imagine a life with her.

  I could have my pick of women right now. What is my problem?

  “Why don’t we take a break?” the photographer suggested, excusing herself from the room.

  A few minutes later Connor’s phone rang from the dressing room and was surprisingly fetched quickly by one of the photographer’s assistants. As soon as he saw the caller, he understood. “Hi, Claire.”

  “Connor. What’s going on?”

  “I’m mostly naked and apparently not living up to your famous photographer’s expectations.”

  “She said you look angry. Did something happen?”

  “I’m not angry. Confused. Not angry.”

  “Okay, what in particular are you confused about today? Give me something to work with.” When Connor didn’t immediately volunteer something, Claire lowered her voice. “Is it about that woman you like? The one Bradford was looking into? Is she involved in the embezzlement somehow?”

  Connor waved a hand dismissively through the air. “No. Of course not. She’s as strait-laced as they come.”

  “But this is about her?”

  “I don’t want to talk about Angelina. If you really want me smiling for this photo shoot, you’d be better off telling me a joke.”

  “Knock, knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Someone who wants to know what’s going on in your head. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

  Connor shot a glare at the people still in the room. They hastily retreated. Honestly, there were perks to being a badass. Once he was alone, Connor said, “I’m not used to this feeling.”

  “What feeling?”

  “Liking a woman who may not like me back.”

  Claire laughed, seemed to realize he wasn’t joking, and sobered. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to laugh. So, why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

  “She’s not here, is she?”

  “All right. I’m getting a clearer picture of what’s going on. You invited Angelina to your shoot and she said no.”

  “I didn’t invite her. I told her she shouldn’t come. But she looked like she wanted to come. I used to understand women. I don’t get Angelina.”

  “This might take me a moment to unravel. You told her not to come and now you’re upset she’s not there?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “When you say it that way it sounds bad.”

  She chuckled. “Any way you’d say it would sound the same.”

  He rolled his eyes, but conceded to himself that she had a point. “What happened to being the person who says nice things to make me feel better?”

  “I’m a life coach, not your mother. I say what you need to hear not what you want to. You’re disappointed. I get it. You only have one decision to make. Do you want to do the calendar or not? If not, I want you to go into the other room, meet some of those homeless puppies and kittens and ask yourself that question again. Then, once you decide the calendar is worth doing, put on your big boy acting pants and smile.”

  “They won’t give me pants, something about needing to see my incredible thighs,” he joked.

  “There’s the Connor I know. Is this about more than Angelina? You can tell me.”

  Claire had an uncanny ability to cut right through bullshit to a problem. He looked down at his light blue swim trunks and kicked at a pile of fake snow. He wasn’t from a family who talked about their emotions, especially not after his mother died, but Claire was good at her job. She could dig past a person’s defenses, like a doctor asking a person to drop their drawers, and somehow leave someone feeling better rather than worse for having been honest. “Lately I feel like I’m losing myself, Claire. I’m not a model. I don’t belong in movies. I like running the Landon Foundation because I get to meet regular people—people like me. They don’t see me, though. All they see is my suit and the Connor Sutton you created. I don’t recognize the man I see in the mirror. All I know is that he doesn’t like much about me, either.”

  There was a pause. When Claire began speaking again, her voice was softer. “That man in the mirror—he’s wrong. The old you, the Connor who welcomed me into the family . . . he was amazing. I miss him.”

  “Sure.”

  “Hey, he’s the reason I’m at a cake tasting today. Ian and I wouldn’t be together if you and Dylan hadn’t kidnapped him and brought him to my hotel room.”

  Connor smiled as he remembered how surprisingly easy it had been to duct tape Ian Barrington and stuff him into a laundry cart. “He was so pissed.”

  “But he needed a shake-up and you gave him one because you cared about him—and me. Part of your charm has always been how little you worry about what others think of you. If I took that away from you—I didn’t mean to. My goal was to help you, not make you into someone you don’t recognize.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The old me doesn’t fit”—he waved his hand in the air—“this.”

  “Then make this fit him. Take the rules I taught you and make them your own. They’re not meant to confine you . . . they’re meant to free you. Like learning a second language or culture. You can master something new without turning your back on who you are in your heart. This new Connor doesn’t have to be you. You can put him on and take him off along with your suit.”

  “Wouldn’t that make me a fraud?”

  “No, it would mean you’re smart enough to know that some situations call for certain behaviors while others don’t. I don’t swear in front of Sophie and Dale, but I still swear like a sailor when I’m angry and not with them. Ian and Bradford have done a lot of things they could never share at the dinner table, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have done them. I don’t know if you want my opinion when it comes to Angelina, but I have a feeling if she met the real you and saw the reason you have more than one side . . . she’d love you as much as the rest of us do.”

  “Thanks, Claire. That helps.” He caught his reflection in a mirror across the room and cracked himself up by flexing like a bodybuilder. “And don’t worry, I’ll rock this photo shoot. I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in. I mean, look at that six-pack. That shit belongs in a calendar.”

  Claire laughed. “Yes, it does. Especially since the calendar will raise money for a good cause. Let yourself have fun today. This doesn’t have to be painful. You love animals. Forget about everything else and just cuddle with a few of them. Let the photographer worry about getting the shots she needs.”

  “I will.” The photographer chose that moment to poke her head back in the room. He smiled and waved for her to enter.

  He didn’t yet know how he would fit his old self into his new life, but for the first time he didn’t feel bad about wanting to. It didn’t have to be all or nothing. People spoke more than one language, some lived in the city during the week then retreated to the countryside for the weekends.

  He remembered his last trip home and groaned when he realized where he’d gone wrong with it. He’d driven his flashy car instead of his old truck. He’d worn his suit instead of his favorite plaid shirt and stained jeans. No wonder his friends hadn’t known how to connect with him . . .

  I won’t make that mistake again.

  I’m going to make room for the old me.

  Balance.

  Aristotle, you really had this life shit down pat. No wonder we’re still talking about you.

  Across town, Angelina was in her new office reading the same email over and over again and cursing Connor Sutton for being the reason she couldn’t concentrate. On paper, her life was back on track. Whitney had a good first day at school. He even said he enjoyed the after-school program.

  She was gainfully
employed in an office full of smiling people.

  All she had to do was work hard, keep her head down, and prove she was a valuable asset to the Landon Foundation. She had already identified fresh opportunities for fundraising. If she held the course, losing her job at Reemsly would actually turn out to be a good thing.

  As long as I don’t have sex with my boss.

  She cringed.

  Seriously? Is that all I can think about? He’s not that amazing. First, he barely speaks. How fun would that be on a date? Second, he’s broody. That wouldn’t be a good role model for Whitney.

  Not that he’ll ever meet Whitney, because we’re going to keep our relationship purely professional.

  When she realized she was staring off into space again, she slapped both of her cheeks lightly then started the email over from the beginning.

  “You’re right, she’s in here,” Mrs. Tellier said from the door of her office.

  “I told you I saw her come in after Connor left,” Kimmie said from beside her.

  Without waiting for an invitation, Mrs. Tellier pulled a chair close to Angelina’s desk and sat down. “Close up your computer. I didn’t want to have to do this, but there doesn’t seem to be any other way. Let’s go. I’m taking you to Connor’s photo shoot.”

  Kimmie laughed as she pulled up a chair beside her. “I call bullshit. Linda is looking for any excuse to spend a few hours ogling a bare-chested Connor. I’ll take you.”

  Mrs. Tellier turned toward Kimmie and crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re married. I should do it.”

  Kimmie cocked an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. “I’m only thinking of you. At your age, your heart is fragile.” She raised a finger as inspiration seemed to hit her. “Plus, a photo shoot would count as research for a future book.”

  “Research? Really?” Mrs. Tellier scoffed. “That’s a stretch. Fine. You want to call me old . . . I’ll throw down my old lady card.” She turned to Angelina and gave her sad eyes. “Angelina, I turn seventy in a few months. I’m on a limited budget. My life keeps getting smaller and smaller. I struggle to find reasons to get out of bed each morning. Please, let me be the one to take you to the photo shoot. Give this little old woman one more wonderful memory to make all my lonely nights easier to bear. But hurry, because I don’t want to miss a single month of that calendar.”

  Kimmie’s mouth dropped open in mock outrage. “You are the least lonely woman I know.” She thumbed at Mrs. Tellier while leaning toward Angelina. “You should hear what she says to her boyfriends on the phone. The woman could be a sex hotline.”

  Chuckling, Angelina covered her eyes briefly before saying, “Sorry to disappoint both of you, but I’m not going to the shoot.”

  “You’re going,” both women said in unison.

  Angelina shook her head. “I’m not. I have a ton of emails to read through already. Why don’t the two of you go?”

  Kimmie looked at Mrs. Tellier and asked, “Was she always this little fun?”

  Mrs. Tellier nodded. “Since the day I met her. She acts like she’s the only woman who ever got knocked up as a teenager and therefore must spend the rest of her life doing some kind of penance. Her son is an incredible kid. One day I hope she starts celebrating the miracle of him rather than seeing him as a mistake.”

  Instantly defensive, Angelina rose to her feet and growled, “I have never considered Whitney a mistake.”

  Mrs. Tellier didn’t even blink at the show of aggression. She shrugged. “Then stop acting like your virginity is something that’ll come back if you keep your legs closed long enough. You can have sex without getting pregnant. There’s this amazing invention called condoms.”

  Never. Ever had Angelina heard her speak this way. “Mrs. Tellier, have you been drinking?”

  “Oh, Lord. First, my name is Linda. You’ve known me for over a decade, you can use my first name. Second, I couldn’t say anything at Reemsly in case there was a child around. You see any children here? Trust me, Kimmie doesn’t care if I say the word condom. Condom. Condom. See? It’s fine.”

  Kimmie leaned over and hugged Mrs. Tel—Linda. “I love this woman.”

  Slowly, Angelina sank back onto her chair. “I do too. Sorry, Linda. You know how I get when people talk about Whitney.”

  Linda’s expression softened. “I’ve watched you grow up, Angelina. You’re a smart woman, a good mother, and a friend I am thankful to have. To be happy, though, you’ll have to forgive the young woman you were before you went to live with your aunt. I didn’t know you back then, but I have feeling young you was pretty wonderful as well. I bet she would have gone to the photo shoot.”

  “She absolutely would have.” Angelina’s hands shook slightly as she clasped them on her desk. “But she didn’t have the responsibilities I do. This is a good job. Whitney is back in school. I’m not looking for exciting anymore. It’s not worth the risk.”

  Neither Kimmie nor Linda spoke for several moments. Because they know I’m right. Motherhood and movie stars don’t mix.

  Finally, Kimmie pursed her lips and stood. “The one I feel bad for is Conner. I bet the shoot isn’t going well.”

  “Why do you say that?” Angelina asked.

  Kimmie wrinkled her nose. “He puts on a good act, but usually Claire goes to things like that with him. With her wedding coming up so fast, he has been flying solo and that hasn’t been easy for him.”

  Linda sighed. “He’s such a sweet boy and he tries so hard.” She looked Angelina over. “Maybe I’m wrong about the two of you being right for each other. He needs a woman who will love him just the way he is. A woman like that would have to be comfortable enough with herself to help him find the same confidence.”

  “Hang on, are we talking about the same Connor Sutton?”

  Kimmie shook her head. “She doesn’t know the real him because he’s afraid to show her.”

  Linda stood. “It’s sad, but life is too short to waste it trying to talk sense into these people. They’re either going to figure it out, or they won’t. When you write Connor as a reluctantly alpha prince, you’ll need to add more sex scenes. Readers won’t want an overly sensitive hero or an indecisive heroine. When I picture Connor wanting me, he picks me up and fucks my brains out against a wall.”

  “Me too,” Angelina thought, then went beet red when she realized she’d said the words out loud.

  Kimmie leaned across the desk. “Then what are you still doing here?”

  Suddenly it was difficult to breathe. “This is a bad idea.” Her body warmed as she remembered the desire in his eyes when he’d looked at her the night before. “I can’t believe I’m even considering going.”

  “Go.” Linda chuckled. “Some of my favorite memories started with me turning off that judgmental voice in my head. What about you, Kimmie?”

  Kimmie blushed. “Javier and I are pretty tame, but we do like to role play. We get funny looks when we buy so many costumes at the Halloween store, but that’s even part of the fun. Sex is supposed to be fun. Sex with Javier in a gladiator outfit is hilarious and surprisingly erotic.”

  After glancing over at Angelina’s face, Kimmie burst out laughing. “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  “Kimmie Sanchez,” Linda said with humor. “You’ve been holding out on me. I need to hear more about this side of you.”

  Linking arms with Linda, Kimmie started walking away while saying, “I will as long as you don’t tell anyone. Javier would be mortified.”

  “It’ll be our little secret,” Linda assured her. “We’ll keep it between me, you, and all your readers.”

  Angelina was smiling as they walked out of earshot. Those two were quite a pair. She could only imagine what Kimmie’s books would be like. Probably best sellers. The way nothing seemed impossible lately, they’d be made into movies.

  Smile fading, hugging her arms around herself, Angelina went over the last few minutes in her head. She’d never considered Whitney a mistake, and her aunt had n
ever called him one, but Angelina could clearly remember what some of the people in her hometown had said when they’d heard she was pregnant.

  Slut.

  Whore.

  Easy.

  The terms were so outdated and sexist, Angelina had told herself they didn’t matter. If they didn’t, though, why did they still ring so clearly in her head? Were they why she’d never taken Whitney back home? Was that the real wedge between her and her family?

  I’m not ashamed of Whitney, but of who I used to be.

  She blinked back tears. It was all so long ago. It shouldn’t matter anymore.

  But it does.

  I worked so hard to prove that I’m not that person, to prove that I’d never be that person again.

  An imagine of her son filled her thoughts. But if I’d never been her, I wouldn’t have him and I can’t imagine a life without him in it. He’s a better version of me.

  So, how could it have been a mistake to create him?

  When will I stop making myself pay for something I don’t regret doing?

  Snippets of so many of the long talks she’d had with her aunt circled in her thoughts. “You don’t need a man.” “You’re better off on your own.” “You’ve come too far to throw away your dreams for a man.”

  How did I not see that her voice had become the one in my head?

  I’m sorry, Aunt Rudi, I don’t believe I have to be alone to be successful.

  I’m so grateful for the support you gave me. I’m not you, though. I don’t want to be alone.

  Yes, this is risky, but maybe, Aunt Rudi . . . maybe sometimes taking a risk turns out to be worth it. I have to believe that.

  And I refuse to live in the past. I’ve given those idiots back home too much space in my head. That ends now.

  She grabbed her purse and rushed from her office to Kimmie and Linda’s. “Where is Connor’s photo shoot?”

  “There’s a car waiting for you downstairs,” Kimmie said with a huge grin that was mirrored on Linda’s face.

  “Don’t forget to pick Whitney up from school,” Linda said.

  “I’m sure this won’t take—It’s not like we’re not going to—I’ll remember, thanks,” Angelina said with a smile as she turned on her heel and rushed down the hallway. She didn’t want to miss any of the months, either.