Alphas on Top

by Harper Sloan

  There had been a few times, particularly over the course of the last few months, when I had thought that Dante had shown an attraction to me. He was hugely possessive, but I wasn't sure if that was because he thought of me in the same way he did his sisters and Brooke, or if it was because something more was there.

  My feelings for Dante had evolved from a crush, to an infatuation, to something deeper. I tried always to be mindful of the fact that he had absolutely no interest in dating, and that he didn’t believe in marriage or committed relationships. That being the case, I knew that no matter what, he would never make a move on me, no matter how badly I wished that he would. Even if he wanted me half as much as I wanted him, I don’t think that he would ever put our friendship in jeopardy.

  Dante went through women at an alarming pace. His reputation as a ladies’ man had been well documented. In the first seven months that I was his assistant, there were five different ‘liaisons’. Not one of them lasted beyond the three-week mark. It was hard to behave like it didn't drive me nuts, but I did it. Fortunately for my sanity, something seemed to have put him off sex lately. He hadn't had so much as a first date in the last four months. I’d wondered if the last girl had gone a little crazy on him, but he never said anything, which left his date-free status a mystery.

  He had a "type". Each and every one a stunning blonde haired super sleek beauty, not one of them less than five foot ten. Statuesque and striking, they stood out in every way—although they all looked like ice queens. He didn't bring them to family events, but I'd met one who had dropped by the office. Not a wise move on her part, because she was never seen again.

  Dominique and Delilah called them the Dante-bots, joking that Dante had a factory somewhere to churn them out, something everyone but Dante laughed about. He normally just grimaced and looked embarrassed when it came up, and he always quickly changed the subject.

  Damien and his best friend Spencer had a far cruder expression for Dante’s dates. They called the women Dante’s “fuck bots.” They didn’t do it in front of me or the girls, but I’d heard them ribbing Dante about it when they thought we weren’t listening. Damien had been especially brutal for the last few weeks, asking Dante how he was surviving without sex. According to something I overheard Damien say, this was the longest Dante had gone without since he lost his virginity.

  I used to find it depressing that Dante’s choice in women was so opposite to me. I’m five foot six, my hair is long and dark, and I’ve got hazel eyes. I’m nothing at all like the Dante-bots. I’m pretty, but I’m not in the same league as the women he dates, with their flawless faces and swimsuit model body types. I'm not emaciated, and my attitude doesn’t require a frost warning, which left me out of the running. I came to realize that it was a good thing that he had such a specific type, because it kept my feet on the ground and my head out of the clouds knowing that he would never actually be attracted to me since I looked nothing like what was obviously his ideal.

  Shaking my head, I realized that I had been wasting valuable time reminiscing when I needed to hurry my ass along. When all was said and done, I was in and out of the shower in ten minutes, which was remarkably fast for me. My morning shower was as essential to me as coffee was to Dante. I could function without it, but it wasn’t pretty.

  I dried off quickly and put on my bra, panties and stockings before blowing my hair dry in record time. I was proud of how quickly I accomplished that, considering that my hair was currently longer than it had ever been, reaching down past the middle of my back.

  I wasn't operating at my highest level and when I went to put my hair up into my work chignon, I knocked the bobby pins off the counter and into the toilet. Stomping my foot I yelled, "shit!"

  It meant that I was going to have to do something I’d not done even once since starting, which was go to work with my hair down. I didn’t think of it as a professional look for me, which was something I strived for when at the office. Unfortunately, the hair decision was out of my hands. I had to wear my hair down, unless I wanted to go toilet fishing – something I knew I was going to have to do later, but had no time to do right then, late as I already was.

  I raced into my bedroom at high speed, thanking my lucky stars that I had laid my clothes out the night before. I slipped into my black pencil skirt, pairing it with a white sleeveless silk blouse, a belt and my black Jimmy Choo crown shoes. Once I was ready, I ran to the kitchen to grab a breakfast bar and a bottle of water.

  At the front door, I reached into the bowl on the entry table for the keys to my car—a beautiful Jaguar XJ that I suspected was the best company car on earth. My hand hit the bottom of the bowl sans keys, which meant that Brooke had my car and I needed to drive hers. It wouldn’t have been a problem to drive Brooke’s car if I had known where the keys were, but they weren't in the bowl, which was something that made my agitation grow. I stomped down the hall to Brooke’s room and flung open the door, breathing a sigh of relief when I spied the spare key on her dresser.

  I was running back to the front door when I heard that my iPhone was ringing. Since it was playing the theme song to “Family Guy”, I knew it was Dante. He loved the show, and he made the theme song the ringtone on my phone for his calls. I didn’t make it to the phone in time, so I grabbed it as I ran out the door, locking it before slamming it behind me.

  I had raced to Brooke’s car, a black Mercedes coup that our mother had bought just weeks before she and my father had died. It had become my car until I’d gotten my work car, and I still loved to drive it when I had the opportunity. It always reminded me of how happy my mother was when my father took her to buy it. It was the first car that she'd had since we were born that was a two door, and she had been ecstatic.

  It was blazingly hot out, absolutely over-the-top sweltering heat. I started the engine and cranked the AC, secure in the knowledge that the car would cool down quickly because it was small. The temperature display on the mirror indicated that it was ninety-five degrees out, and I sighed in frustration that I didn’t have my hair up.

  Dante and I were scheduled to walkthrough a building site in the afternoon, and I knew that I was going to be miserable with my hair down. Resolving to drink plenty of water before we went, I threw the car into reverse and headed toward the freeway.

  By then it was almost nine thirty, so traffic wasn't as severe as when I normally drove to work. I breathed a sigh of relief when I merged onto the freeway, and I had hope that the craziness of the morning would be behind me.

  I was just starting to relax when I noticed that the gaslight was on and I realized that was why Brooke had taken my car. Letting out a loud curse, I had no choice but to pull off at the next exit for gas.

  Once at the station, I pulled to the pump and reached for my purse… only to realize that, in the rush to get out of the house, I'd left it on the kitchen counter. I wondered if the day actually had it out for me, and I even considered calling in sick and hiring a locksmith to get me back into my house so that I could hide from the world until my bad luck passed.

  I sighed, knowing I couldn’t take that option because it would be extremely irresponsible. Dante insisted that I was with him whenever he went to check a site. The one we were set to tour was the biggest build the company was doing in America this year, a super exclusive high rise in Century City. The minimum buy in for a condo in the building was four million dollars, and there were a lot of cooks in the kitchen as more and more buyers came on board with different requests. There was no way he would go if I didn’t, which meant he would reschedule the walk through. That was something that I just couldn't abide. It would be rude to inconvenience everyone because I was having a lousy day.

  Looking at the gas needle, I decided I had to risk it and continue on. I tried to assure myself that once the gaslight came on there were still at least fifteen miles of wiggle room before it would run out entirely. Since I only had another six miles to go, I knew I had to press on. I ignored the little voice in my head
that pointed out that I had no way to be sure how many miles Brooke drove after the light came on. Praying that she hadn’t driven far, I pulled out of the gas station and got back on the freeway.

  The day being what it was, I made it about four miles before the car started to shimmy. I pulled over, put the top down so I didn’t swelter to death, and turned on my hazards as I turned the car off. Sighing in resignation, I picked up my iPhone and pressed the entry for Dante’s cell.

  He picked up before the first ring was even finished. I was surprised by his tone as he growled into the phone, “Jesus Christ Rina! Where the fuck are you? I've been worried sick.”

  For a moment I was seriously flustered, and I stuttered a bit as I caught him up on my morning, ending by telling him that I was pulled over on the side of the freeway. I gave him my general location and asked if he could send someone to come get me. I was taken aback when he all but snapped at me that he was coming himself and would be there in ten minutes. After he hung up, I shrugged his annoyance off. Dante had never yelled at me, and I didn’t think he was about to start just because I’d been having a shitty morning.

  Climbing over the center console, I sat in the passenger seat so that I wouldn’t have to walk into traffic once Dante arrived. By that point I was exhausted, frustrated by this morning’s events, and sweating bullets due to the heat.

  It didn’t help that the car I was in was black with black leather seats. It felt like I was baking, so I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt and started fanning myself with the car manual from the glove compartment.

  Exactly eight minutes later, Dante pulled up behind me in his black Range Rover. I got out of the Mercedes, clicked the remote for the top to go up, and walked quickly over to his car where I slid into the passenger seat. Thankfully he had the air on full tilt, and I turned to him with a gigantic smile as I said, “Thank god for air conditioning! As usual, you’re my hero, Dante. Thank you for coming to my res…”

  I halted abruptly and didn’t finish the sentence when I heard Dante’s harsh inhalation of breath. I was stunned to see that his eyes were glued to the open spot of my blouse. It was like his gaze was locked onto my breasts, and the air in the car felt thick with intensity.

  When I looked down to see what he was looking at, I almost died of embarrassment. Because of the buttons I had opened, my boobs were totally popping out of the blouse. I was mortified to see that it was so extreme that the top of my white lace bra was visible. As I watched, a trickle of sweat worked its way down my chest and disappeared into the bra.

  Just seeing the look on his face caused my nipples to pucker, and I blushed furiously as I closed the two buttons I’d had undone. Looking back up at Dante, my eyebrows rose when I saw that his eyes were closed. I could just barely hear that he was counting backwards from ten under his breath.

  I was puzzled by how he was acting and I had been wondering what I could say to defuse the tension when his blue eyes opened and locked onto mine. He breathed deeply in and out, and I assumed that he was calming himself down. I smiled at him, but that quickly turned to a frown when he glared at me.

  “Sabrina, what the hell is going on with you? You’re never late. In fact, you’re normally twenty minutes early. This is twice you’ve been late recently! And Jesus! Running out of gas on the freeway? You could have been killed! Where the hell is your head at?”

  He stopped his tirade and returned to glaring at me, which told me that I needed to say something, but I was totally thrown off by his anger. Dante didn’t normally get angry—at least not with me, or his family.

  “Dante... I… I’m OK. I’m sorry that I was late twice. I was flustered this morning because I was running late and I left the house without my purse. I’m sorry I inconvenienced you but…”

  His balled fists slammed onto the dashboard, causing me to jump in my seat.

  “Jesus, Sabrina, an inconvenience? You’re never a fucking inconvenience. Don’t be an idiot! I wouldn’t give a rat's ass that you were late if it wasn’t for everything else that’s going on with you!”

  I gaped at him, shocked by the outburst, but I stayed silent, waiting for him to explain himself.

  “Something is different. Why have you been late? Why are you losing so much weight? Why have you been missing our morning runs at the gym? And… your hair is down. Your hair is never down at work. Something is going on.”

  I spluttered, about to start answering his questions when he held his hand up to silence me.

  “I want to know where in the hell you were last night. Brooke came to dinner without you and said she didn’t know where you were, just that you have been spending time with some mystery man. She seemed worried. What the hell is going on?”

  I took that last bit in with a confused frown. I was fairly certain that Brooke knew exactly where I was. She'd met Marcus, and I had sent her an email on Sunday afternoon telling her that I couldn’t go to Dante’s on Sunday for dinner since Marcus and I would be practicing. Maybe she didn’t get it, but there was no way she would have been worried about Marcus. No, he had to be wrong about that, and since Dante was incredibly over protective, I realized that he probably misunderstood what she said.

  I reached my hand out and put it on Dante’s arm in a calming way as I said, “Don’t worry Dante, I’m fine. I’m sorry that you were concerned.” A look at his face showed that he was still in intense mode with his jaw clenched, and the look he gave me wasn’t like him at all. It was pure fire and the next thing I knew, I was imagining myself climbing over the console to have my way with him.

  I snatched my hand back like I had been burnt, pulling a Dante as I ran my fingers through my hair. I knew that meant I’d thoroughly messed up my straight hairstyle, but I was reacting to his frustration. My stomach felt like I was in the biggest loop on a roller coaster.

  I tried again to calm him down. “I apologize for not making it to dinner. I did email Brooke to tell her where I would be, but clearly she didn’t check her mail. There was no reason for anyone to be worried. I told you at the end of the day on Friday that I didn’t know if I could make it to dinner on Sunday. Don’t you remember that?”

  I implored him with my eyes to calm down, but I could see that he wasn't appeased. Leaning his head back on the headrest, he let out a harsh breath. “Yes Rina, I remember you mentioning that you didn’t know if you could make it. But you never said definitively that you wouldn’t come. When you never called or said anything, I expected you to be there. We all did.”

  When he turned and looked me in the eye again, I was stunned to see what looked an awful lot like panic in his eyes. But then it was gone, and he just looked unsettled.

  “Dante, I’m sorry. I never meant to be impolite. I honestly thought you assumed I wasn’t going to make it. You know I’d never intentionally bail out on my friends.”

  Dante was focusing on me in the strangest way as I spoke. I knew the look since it was the one he got whenever he was trying to figure something complicated out, but what I didn't understand was why he was looking at me like that.

  “Friends… right. Ok. I guess that explains dinner,” he said, “but can you tell me what the hell is going on with the weight loss and the lateness? You aren’t working out with me, but you’re wasting away. Do I need to be worried?”

  I’d shaken my head in confusion as I wondered what in the world he thought I was doing.

  “No. I told you I was taking dance classes—well, I’ve been practicing as much as possible these last three weeks for a competition with a dance partner. That’s the guy Brooke is talking about. We practiced for six hours yesterday, until after eleven o’clock. I woke up late because I’m exhausted from dancing. Same applies to when I was late a few weeks ago.”

  I smiled at him before continuing. “That’s also the explanation for the weight loss. When you dance for hours and hours each day, you’re bound to lose weight! As for my hair, in all the chaos this morning I dropped my hair pins into the toilet. See, mysteries so
lved! No need to worry.”

  I was confident that explanation would have calmed him down, but if anything he looked more upset. Before he could say anything else, Damien pulled up behind us in his silver Porsche Panamera with him at the wheel and Spencer in the passenger seat. As usual, Thing one and Thing two had come to the rescue. Dante held his hand out to me, and I handed over Brooke’s car key.

  He hopped out to talk to Damien and Spencer, giving them the key to Brooke's car before climbing back into the driver's seat next to me.

  "Damien and Spence will take care of everything. The Mercedes will be in the parking garage for you with a full tank in no time. Damien says that he'll talk to Brooke about remembering to put gas in the car. That could have been dangerous."

  I let out a sigh of relief as he pulled back into traffic and we headed off to work. The morning had been a wreck and I needed everything to calm down. Normally it would have been lovely to spend a few minutes in the car in silence listening to music with Dante, but the tension was too thick for that.

  I was relieved when we pulled into the parking garage at Hart International and I was hoping that the day would reset and become normal. After pulling the key from the ignition, Dante was out of the car in a flash, slamming the door behind him so hard that the car actually shook.

  That's when I figured out what his problem was. He was having a shitty day too, and as he was prone to do, he was worrying about the people he cared about. Since I was one of those people, I assumed that he worried when I was late and it blew up from there.

  When I opened my door and popped out of the car, I gasped as I walked headlong into his chest. “Jesus, Dante! You scared the shit out of me!”