Hot Takeover: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Carter Blake

  I clear my throat and start again, “Good afternoon, my name is–”

  Before I can finish my sentence, she walks in. The red-haired temptress. The woman who I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all day.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she says, trapped between the door and me.

  I watch her every move. Soft. Feminine. Not fully aware of her beauty. And yet still confident, and incredibly sexy.

  More than a dozen pair of eyes are on me, and the only thing on my mind is, what’s your name?

  She’s wearing a tight black number that leaves nothing to the imagination, and yet still shouts class. It hugs her body in all the right places. And those curves. She’d put any of those Victoria Secret supermodels to shame.

  In a world where skinny is the rage, she wears her curves with confidence.

  Damn.

  She’s probably the type that’s breaking hearts all over the office. Then again, judging by their vacant expressions, I find it hard to believe that any of them even have pulses.

  “I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

  “Alicia Parker,” she reaches out to shake my hand, and as soon as our palms connect, a flash of energy burns through me so hot that I swear I’m going to combust. But I don’t want to let go. I can’t help but hold her small hand in mine, stroking the soft skin with my thumb.

  A small tremor races through her. I see it. Feel it. The attraction mutual.

  My God, but I want this woman.

  There’s a small rumbling in the room, a couple awkward coughs, and I let her hand go, noticing the red that’s creeped into her cheeks.

  Shit. Nice move asshole.

  She moves a strand to the side and I can’t help but notice the subtle tattoo on her neck – a butterfly. Interesting.

  “And you’re our new boss?” she asks when I keep staring.

  I’m blowing this.

  “No.” I shove my hands in my slacks and take a deep breath before continuing and making sure to look anywhere but at her. “I’m here to help the company get back to what it was. After that, a permanent manager will be hired to take Ms. Briggs place.”

  Again, no reaction from the rest of the room, just more blank stares.

  The only reaction is from Alicia. A small, almost happy grunt.

  “Is there something you’d like to share?” I ask.

  “Cynthia leaving is the best thing that could happen to Love Lace. I know that’s probably not nice to say, but it’s the truth.” She bites her bottom lip, stopping herself.

  “Go on.” I nod at her, wanting to hear more.

  She looks around the room, but when she doesn’t get any reaction, those gorgeous gray eyes turn back to me, and she says, “I’ve been trying to get Cynthia to approve my new designs, the ‘Charlotte Range.’ But she said…” Her tongue darts out over her lush lips before continuing, “She said that it was a range that belonged to hookers and I was way out of my league. But I think if we surveyed our customers, we’d see that what women want is not only comfort, but pieces that make them feel sexy.” She glances down and says softly, “Even if it’s for their eyes only.”

  I don’t say anything, because I’m blinded by her beauty, and by the fact that she pretty much read my mind. There’s also the hint in her words that suggests she not only enjoys designing sexy pieces, but also wearing them.

  God, what I wouldn’t do for a glimpse of that image.

  “Sorry, I said too much.” Shifting nervously, she drags her palm down her skirt.

  I remember the original designs that Cynthia’s secretary sent me.

  “The Christmas designs. The ones that were sent by mistake. Those were yours?”

  She nods, “Guilty.”

  I sit down and say, “So, why do you think Ms. Briggs didn’t approve them?”

  She shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ve never understood her management style.”

  I don’t want to put their manager down, especially because I don’t know anything about this Alicia. Yes, she’s hot. And sexy as hell. But until I’ve done my homework on something other than her measurements, I’ll have to keep everything strictly business.

  She licks her dry lips, and I think to myself that it’s going to be fucking hard.

  Probably near impossible.

  But I’ve never been one to mix business with pleasure, and even for this delicious little temptress, I’m not going to start now.

  Chapter 4

  Alicia

  Making my way back to my station, I feel like I’ve got a new lease on life.

  My hot new boss wants to see my designs, and he seemed somewhat impressed by the ones that Cynthia’s secretary sent to him by accident.

  Maybe this is my shot. A chance to finally be seen. By Killian. The thought does something to me. Creates a warmth, a need, an ache inside of me that I’ve never felt before.

  Get a grip, Alicia. He’s your boss. Or at least interim-boss. And way off limits.

  I sit down at my desk and pull out my sketchpad as fresh ideas swarm into my head. I try not to think about heat between my legs, or the spark that sizzled between us when he’d touched my hand.

  Maybe it’s because it’s been so damn long since I’ve been with anyone. But that’s been my choice. After what happened with my last boyfriend, I swore off men, because never again will I allow anyone to make me feel the way he did.

  At first Nick was all flowers and romance. Slowly things had started to change. He was never physically abusive, but sometimes abuse comes in more subtle forms. Nick’s choice was words, specifically about my body.

  I’d already had one person in my life who body shamed me. Not that my mother would ever admit to it, but even now when I see her she has her little comments, always mentioning the newest diet techniques, or offering to pay for a gym membership.

  What she doesn’t understand is that no matter how much I starve myself, I’ll never have her waif-like body, and quite honestly, I’ve learned to love my curves.

  Now having those curves on full display for all the world to see is a completely different matter. And that’s what Nick started threatening when I broke up with him. Without me knowing he’d taken photos of me. Some while I was in the shower, others while I was sleeping or getting dressed. Every one of them of my completely naked body.

  My stomach does a flip-flop as I think about those photos. Two years I’ve paid the cost of dating and trusting a sociopathic asshole. At first, he’d used the photos to try to manipulate me to stay with him. When that didn’t work, he demanded money.

  I gave it to him, thinking it would solve my problem. But six months later, he’d shown up at my work, demanding more and threatening to send the pictures to my boss if I didn’t give it to him.

  Cynthia was already breathing down my neck, and I knew if she was given even the smallest excuse, I’d be gone. And so, I’ve kept paying him. Always waiting for his next threat.

  Leaning over my desk, I pick up my pencil and do what I always do when I’m stressed – work.

  Hours go by as I get lost in my designs. I barely notice the time, or the fact that everyone else has left for their lunch break. Not that I usually do lunch. Once I’m focused on a project I can’t stop until I’m finished.

  “Damn,” a deep voice growls next to my ear.

  I nearly jump out of my seat and I spin around so quickly that I cause a pile of papers on my desk to scatter across the floor.

  A small chuckle surrounds me.

  Killian is standing above me, a look of amusement – and something else, something dark, sexy, wanting – on his handsome face.

  “You scared me.”

  “Sorry.” Intense blue eyes study me, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I said your name a couple of times, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”

  He’s so damn close. His scent fills my nostrils and does bad things to my head. If sex has a scent, it’s Killian Scott. If I could bottle it I’d be a millionaire.

  “Di-did you want s
omething?”

  His gaze darkens for a brief second, before he finally clears his throat and turns his attention to the designs on my desk. “Those are good.”

  “Thank you.” I lick my lips, not sure what else to say. “Do you want to see more?”

  He gives a brisk nod, then leans closer, placing a palm on the arm of my chair so that I can practically feel the heat radiating off him.

  “Okay. Great.” Despite how hard I try to not let my emotions inflect in my voice, I can’t contain the shakiness to my words. “I love these ones.” Pulling out a red folder, I flip through the pages. “I created this series for last Valentine’s, but they weren’t picked up.”

  He grunts, and I can’t tell if it’s a disproval of my work, or something else.

  “I have samples and pictures.”

  “Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “You make samples of all of your designs?”

  “I…” Cheeks flaming, I bite my lip. I don’t want to tell him that I model them myself. He might get the wrong impression. Think that I’m flirting with him. And as much as I’d like to, this job is way more important than whatever chemistry is between us.

  I’ve never told anyone that I model for my own designs. Cynthia never allowed enough in my budget to hire models, so I got creative. Sure, I may not be pencil-thin like the girls the company usually hires, but lingerie is meant for all women, of all shapes and sizes. If it only looks good on my type of figure, then as a company we’re excluding a huge market of buyers.

  “You enjoy your job.” It isn’t really a question, more of a statement. Those blue eyes are watching me again with an intensity that makes my belly burn with desire.

  Damn, the man has a sex appeal about him that’s hard to resist. And I have a feeling that he isn’t used to being told no, because as much as my brain screams, no, no, no, my body is quite literally moaning, yes, yes, yes.

  “I love making clothes, especially lingerie.” I glance down at my current sketch and run my fingers over the lines.

  “Why is that?”

  A small smile tugs at my lips, but I don’t look up when I answer. “Lingerie is hidden and only revealed on request, or if so desired. It’s more for the wearer than for others. That’s what most people don’t understand. A nice piece of lingerie can make a woman feel sexy, even if no one else ever sees it.”

  I swear a small growl leaves his throat, and in shock I glance up at him. Bad move. Because he’s closer now. So damn close I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips.

  “Tell me more,” he demands, rough and raw, his words filled with the same hunger that I’m feeling.

  I should move away, but I’m tramped under his gaze.

  “Nothing is more seductive than the feeling of silk against the skin. And satin, the way it glides across the most intimate parts, can make a woman feel like she’s a goddess, beautiful and wanted. Even cotton has its magical properties if fitted and designed just right.”

  His breathing quickens. “What do you mean?”

  “It can make a woman feel whatever way she wants to feel. Strong and bold, soft and feminine.”

  “All because of the material?”

  “No.” I give a small shake of my head. “Because of the fit. How it hugs her body. Formed and fitted, so that even when it’s out of sight she knows it’s there, like a hidden secret she’s only willing to share if she chooses.” I swallow hard. “It’s about power.”

  “Power?” One brow quirks up.

  I can tell it’s a word he’s well acquainted with.

  “Everyone wants to feel powerful. And the right piece of lingerie can do just that.”

  He holds my gaze for a long moment. I can practically see the wheels spinning in his head, but I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  Finally, he clears his throat and asks, “Do you think that you can help me?”

  Him or the company? Because right now I’d very much like to help both.

  He’s your boss, I remind myself.

  “With what?” I curse the small squeak in my voice that betrays my nerves.

  My breasts are nearly stroking his arm, the harsh material of his suit brushes against my oversensitive nipples, and even through the satin material of my blouse, I feel it right to my core.

  A small moan tickles my throat, and I clamp my lips tight to contain it, but a small breathy sound still leaves me, and I see his pupils dilate.

  “What can I help you with, Mr. Scott?”

  “Killian,” he says. “Call me Killian if we’re going to be working together.”

  “Killian,” I repeat, the name falling off my lips like honey.

  It seems to please him because he smiles.

  “Would you mind giving me a tour of the company? You seem to be the only one left.”

  I glace around at the empty room, then to my computer, which lets me know that it’s only half past two, and already the office is deserted.

  “Is this a usual thing?” he asks, now frowning as he takes in the empty desks.

  I want to tell him the truth. Cynthia did nothing and others even less, she repeated the same designs every season and had the machinists make new stock and throw the old ones in the trash.

  I never understood it, and whenever I tried to question her, I was asked the fated question, ‘Do you really want to keep working here?’

  And that made me shut up, thinking that one day someone would come in and realize that Cynthia was up to no good. She wasn’t qualified and had no experience in lingerie – that was clear. I knew, or at least hoped, that one day her little secret would come out. I just never expected someone as hot as Killian to discover it.

  Instead of snitching on my colleagues, I just shrug and tell a small white lie, “I think Cynthia gave everyone the afternoon off. But I’d be happy to show you around.”

  The thought of spending more time alone with him makes the ache between my legs even stronger. I have a feeling that my vibrator is going to get some much-needed use tonight.

  He must have asked me a question, because he’s looking at me as if expecting an answer.

  “You’re doing it again,” he says, lips quirked up, eyes studying me like I’m some sort of anomaly.

  “What?” I ask, pushing my chair back and standing, so that I’m not so close to him.

  “Whatever it is you do inside that head of yours.” The words come out with a small chuckle.

  “Sorry.” Embarrassed, I tuck my hair behind my ears and look away.

  “No, I get it,” he says, suddenly serious. “You just lost your boss. It makes sense that you’re distracted.”

  If only that was the reason.

  But it’s better he thinks that, and not the truth. That I’m practically drooling over what I can tell is a rock-hard, sculpted, sexy-as-sin body, under that dark suit.

  Oh my God, I need to get laid. And soon, before I throw myself at this poor man, and ruin all chances of ever truly making it in this business.

  “Sorry, you want me to give you a tour of the place.”

  Or my body.

  I picture him on his knees begging me to strip down to my underwear, hoping to see my lingerie in its full glory.

  God. I can’t stop. What is it with this man?

  “Let’s start with the basement,” I say, leading the way towards the elevators.

  I keep my eyes diverted as I tell him everything I know about the company and how it works. I’m rambling, I do that when I’m nervous. And right now, I’m beyond nervous.

  As we walk through the building, I realize how empty the place is.

  “This is where our designs come to life,” I say as I open the door to the area where our seamstresses work.

  I freeze when I look around. It’s been months since I’ve been down here. What once housed over thirty state-of-the-art sewing machines and just as many workers is now almost completely empty.

  This company really is a sinking ship. And for a second, I wonder if anyone, even Killian can fix the da
mage that Cynthia did.

  An older woman nods at us when we approach. One of only three seamstresses left.

  “Is everyone on break?” Killian asks, frowning.

  She gives him a strange look, then shakes her head. “Everyone?”

  “Why is the place empty? Where are all the workers?”

  “None of them work here anymore,” she says with a slight accent that sounds Portuguese, or maybe Spanish. “The set from last season are still sitting there.” She points to a pile of black bags that are discarded in the corner. “Most of the machines don’t work, so the girls stopped coming. We only get paid per item that we make, so…” she shrugs.

  Killian’s frown deepens, causing a line to form between his brows. And all the hope that I started to feel earlier begins to dissipate. Time to update my resume and start looking for a new job, because there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be out of one sooner rather than later.

  Dragging his fingers through his dark hair, Killian lets out a long, uneven breath, then starts to walk around the empty room.

  “This is worse than I thought,” he says shaking his head, echoing my thoughts.

  It’s then that I realize what else is wrong. It isn’t just that the workers have gone, but the sewing machines as well.

  This isn’t good.

  I turn to the woman and ask, “Where are all the machines?”

  “Some of the girls never got paid, so they took them with them.”

  Shocked, I stutter, “The-they just took them?”

  Another shrug. “I’ve been paid and I’m loyal so I haven’t stopped working. The minute I don’t get my paycheck, I leave too.”

  She looks down and starts sewing again.

  I head in the direction of Killian, not knowing what to say, because this place is far more hopeless than I ever imagined. If only he’d come a few months sooner, maybe he could have made things work.