Filthy Rich Alpha

by Virna DePaul

  Kissing Cara had been better than sex with other women, and he couldn’t help but imagine doing more with her. In a variety of thrilling ways, starting on the couch she’d been reclining on. He wanted her vulnerable. Begging for pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. Tender and erotic to begin. Kisses that started at her mouth and moved down. He’d spread her out, with one of her legs thrown over the back of the couch, and the other hanging off the edge while he buried his face between her thighs, lapping her up. See what made her cry out. How deep she wanted it and where. Rough and raw if she liked it like that. Then sensual and slow. The mix had to be magic. He’d make it unforgettable for her.

  Only he had to corral all those urges, because as Max Dubois had so abruptly informed her, Branden was the new owner of D&M and Cara’s new boss. And that meant, for more reasons than one, it would be wholly inappropriate for him to jump into bed with her.

  Finally, Cara turned to him again and said, “Well, gentlemen, I need to be going. Max, will you be in tomorrow?”

  “Just to settle a few things.”

  She nodded, gave him a hug, then turned to Branden. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Mr. Duke,” she said.

  She was clearly lying. She’d be happy never to see him again, yet her expression and voice remained almost robotic. It was as if the real Cara, the warm, passionate woman he’d caught off guard after she’d woken, had slipped through his fingers, never to be recaptured.

  Even worse, he would indeed see her again, but not the way he wanted to.

  Not as the stranger she’d kissed. Not as a potential suitor. Not as a possessive lover.

  But as her boss.

  Her fucking boss.

  Tomorrow morning, it would have to be all business between them, yet Branden knew keeping things strictly professional with Cara Michael was going to be one of the hardest tasks he’d ever taken on.

  Chapter 3

  When Cara woke up, her corporate studio apartment was still dark. For several moments she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, and thinking of Branden Duke, their heart-stopping kiss, and the fact that as of today, Branden was her new boss.

  Her gorgeous, hot, I-totally-want-to-fuck-him boss.

  Did she really have to go to work? Maybe she could call in sick.

  And while she was at it, maybe she could look for another job.

  Heck, maybe she could convince Max to take her with him into his retirement. She could be his personal assistant. Book his flights. Run him his pina coladas on the beach. That sort of thing.

  Ugh.

  She was clearly having a mini-breakdown here.

  Finally, unable to fool herself any longer, Cara gave a frustrated groan, flung off the covers and padded barefoot into the bathroom. She had to face reality. She couldn’t quit her job. Couldn’t hide away in shame from Branden forever. She needed to woman up, get to work, and face whatever was coming, even if that was Branden deciding in the cold light of day that he couldn’t have a random woman he’d kissed at a party working for him. At least if he fired her, she’d be able to collect unemployment for a time.

  In the bathroom, Cara switched on the light and peered at her reflection. As post-party reflections went, it wasn’t too bad. There was no major puffiness or wild-kingdom streaks, since she’d gulped down two glasses of water and removed her makeup before tumbling into bed. After dropping her yellow flowered cami and sleep shorts on the bathroom floor, she cranked up the shower spray and stood under it.

  And just like had been happening all night, she struggled to think of anything else but Branden Duke. No such luck.

  She closed her eyes and felt his hands moving all over her, liquidly sensual, hotter than the water beating down on her bare skin.

  Her own hand slipped between her thighs, but with an abrupt curse, she pulled her hand back.

  Last night, Branden Duke had haunted her dreams and apparently he was going to haunt her daylight hours, as well. Getting herself off by fantasizing about him was not something she was going to let happen because it would only entrench him further into her mind. Fantasies were great, but she had to keep her focus on real life, not fantasy. That meant figuring out how she was going to face him in the cold light of day despite what had happened between them the night before.

  Once out of the shower, she dressed quickly in her walk-in closet, a routine that hadn’t changed in the three years she’d been working for Dubois & Mellan.

  The mirrored closet was a touch of luxury she appreciated. Dubois & Mellan had financed the construction of the building and owned several floors outright. The biggest apartments were reserved for visiting executives, but one of a handful of coveted studios had been offered to her on a temporary basis as part of the signing package.

  She was lucky to have it. She did pay rent, but at below market rate. Housing costs were a near impossibility in New York for a newly minted economics grad without a trust fund or rich parents who could cosign an astronomical lease.

  She gave one last look around as she put on her parka and wrapped a warm scarf around her neck. After flicking her multiple locks closed, she headed down the elevator, then murmured a good morning to the doorman, who opened the lobby door for her, and went out into the chilly early morning air. She pulled her sunglasses from her bag and shielded her eyes from the sun’s first rays that barely penetrated the narrow streets of New York’s Financial District, a closed-in space lined with old stone buildings jostled by towering glass skyscrapers. Young professionals, heads down, eyes on their smartphones and earbuds plugged in to get a jump on the overseas markets, crowded the sidewalks.

  Soon, she was walking through the bronze doors of Dubois & Mellan. There were a few of her coworkers already in the spacious lobby. Some always beat her in, no matter how early she got up. She nodded and smiled to the few who caught her eye, but they didn’t get off their phones to say hi as her heels clicked over the terrazzo floor.

  She took a sip of coffee and headed to the security setup at the far end of the lobby, swiping her magnetic ID through a computerized turnstile. Five minutes later, she was approaching her office, another huge perk for working with D&M, considering she’d just turned twenty-three when she joined the company. The space was roomy by Manhattan standards, and even had a window with a thin slice of the spectacular view. Thick translucent glass panels set into the interior walls afforded an illusion of privacy from the general commotion. Never having to deal with the distractions of a cubicle where anyone could look over her shoulder meant she got a lot more work done—and meant she could hide out and stay late. In some ways, her office felt more like home than her apartment.

  She was grateful to reach the door of her office without being seen, but stopped abruptly when she saw Branden seated in one of the chairs. He rose immediately upon seeing her. “Hello.”

  “Hello,” Cara said, forcing herself to not stammer. Slowly, she held out her hand and said, “Nice to see you again, Mr. Duke.”

  He wore an expression of professional neutrality, but his gaze still seemed to pierce her. When he reached out and took her hand, she barely suppressed a gasp at the tingles that went up her arm.

  He was even better looking in the daylight. Thick hair that she’d slid her fingers through while kissing him with unabashed lust wasn’t quite as dark as she remembered—more brown than black. There was the strong jaw she’d caressed and there were the faint creases around his mouth that suggested a smile even when he wasn’t smiling.

  Which he wasn’t. And unlike last night, there was no hint of amusement or warmth in his gaze.

  “I’m taking the day to introduce myself to everyone. Mind if I sit down?” Branden asked cordially, although his expression remained unreadable.

  “No, of course not.” As he sat down, she put down her things and took her seat at her desk.

  He moved the chair closer to her desk and settled his long frame into it, resting his hands on the polished wood armrests. The subdued elegance of his suit emphasized his r
emarkable physicality and self-assurance.

  Her mouth went dry. God, what was she supposed to say here?

  “Thank you for the ride last night,” she finally said. “I got home safely.” She winced and whispered, “Obviously.”

  He nodded. “It was my pleasure.”

  “So,” he began. “You’ll meet some of the personnel I’m bringing in later. I have someone who will be revamping IT, a new office manager, and a few other specialists. Right now I’m trying to get a scope on who does what, and how well they do it. Tell me what is it you do for the company that’s unique.”

  Cara blinked. Okay, so he wasn’t firing her immediately. Maybe her position with the company was still up in the air. But what was it exactly that he wanted to hear? “Can you clarify what you’re asking?” she said.

  “Your analytical methods, innovative approaches you’ve come up with, that sort of thing. Let’s start with the most difficult problem you ever faced here.”

  That would be you, Mr. Duke.

  “Well. Let me think.”

  “Is it really that difficult a question to answer?” he asked with one cocked brow, his tone mildly taunting.

  She lifted her chin. Last night, the man had turned her on beyond belief. Hell, he was still turning her on, even as she worried about the safety of her job. But clearly he was in the position of power here, and while he wasn’t exactly being rude about it, he was testing her meddle. So fine, if that’s the way he wanted to play it…

  Game on, Mr. Duke.

  Cara stood, and on weak knees made her way to the file cabinet at the corner of her office. She hauled out hard-copy files and printed reports, slapping them down on the desk and turning them around so Branden could read the highlights as she pointed them out. In the last six months alone, Cara had analyzed several multimillion-dollar deals in development that no one but she thought would ever turn a profit. In the end, management had followed her advice and D&M had raked in a fortune. A tiny fraction of which would hopefully plump up her year-end bonus.

  But as she explained the spreadsheets, throwing out facts and figures and pointing out profit margins, it took all her effort not to focus on how closely Branden paid attention…how his gaze flicked from the papers on her desk to her face, then back again, eyes smoldering in intensity…how the corner of his mouth crooked up when she got excited over explaining a formula she’d come up with…how he would occasionally stroke his gaze over her, as if sizing her up.

  How his scent wafted over her and how she could feel his body heat as he sat mere inches from her.

  And yet she managed to keep her composure. Succeeded in explaining her work. Kept the conversation focused on her value to the company and didn’t so much as hint about the night before.

  “So that’s what I do and how I solve problems,” she finished up with barely controlled heat. “Is that what you were looking for?”

  “Yes.” He rotated the papers back around. He’d barely looked at them. However, she had a disconcerting feeling that he’d taken in the most relevant information at a glance.

  “I have copies,” she added. “You can take all that with you.” And leave my office, she thought. Before either of us brings up last night. She couldn’t do it—couldn’t discuss what had transpired between them. What had her insides twisted up in a multitude of knots.

  The frosty hint went right by him. It was possible that he was somewhat impressed by her diligence and acumen. Or maybe he was thinking of how her ass felt under his hands the night before. She couldn’t tell.

  “That’s not necessary,” he said affably. “But thanks.” He remained sitting in his chair. Tapping his long fingers on the sleek wooden frame, Branden idly glanced around her office, skimming his gaze around the space, over her low bookcase, and across her near-barren desk. He frowned.

  Did he have a problem with it being neat and clean? She thought a little uneasily that maybe it was too neat and clean. She didn’t want to give the impression that she had run out of work to do after helping to put the company’s balance sheet squarely into the black for the next quarter and beyond. But she also had no desire to show off her personal life through photos and tchotchkes.

  Oh yeah, that’s right…she had no personal life.

  At least the orchid was pretty.

  His gaze stopped at her monitor and then moved to her face.

  “One of the first things we plan to do is revamp the computer system,” he said at last. “It’s out of date. We need to get up to speed.” He gestured to the papers, then spoke again in a normal tone even as he stood and rounded the desk toward her. “Great job on the reports.”

  He stopped next to her and leaned close, not quite whispering in her ear, but close enough. “About last night…”

  Her knees shook. There it was…mention of the night before. She should have taken the initiative and brought it up first. Admitted to her mistake. But he’d beat her to the punch, and now she needed to respond. And not by jumping him. “It didn’t happen,” she muttered.

  “Yes it did,” he said in a low intimate voice. “I’d like for it to happen again. If I’m not mistaken, so would you. But now that I know you actually work here…we have to keep things professional.”

  He fell silent, his gaze seemingly filled with regret.

  “Of course,” she whispered, glancing at the open office door. What the hell was he doing, starting this discussion here? Now? While he was standing so close? It wasn’t smart. It was madness. And ironically, even as he was telling her nothing could happen between them, the fact he so clearly wanted something to happen was turning her on like crazy.

  “Last night I was tired,” she said, keeping her voice low. “My behavior was out of line and won’t be repeated.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he said, not exactly looking pleased.

  Cara sat back down just as a voice called out, “Branden?”

  The call of his name and the sound of soft footfalls made them look up. The woman who entered Cara’s office was stunning—young, with a controlled waterfall of glossy black hair and delicately outlined doe eyes. Gold earrings and a couture corporate outfit completed the look.

  “Oh there you are, Branden,” the woman said. “Are you going to introduce me?”

  For a moment, Branden frowned, obviously annoyed that they’d been interrupted. Quickly, however, his expression smoothed out and he smiled politely. “Of course. Deena Raj, this is Cara Michal,” Branden said.

  “How do you do.” The woman’s smoothly cultured voice had a slight but noticeable edge. Had she overheard them talking? Maybe. Her gaze barely took Cara in before she walked over to Branden and rested a possessive hand on his shoulder.

  Cara expected Branden to flush or shift guiltily. He didn’t. His gaze stayed firmly on Cara. She, on the other hand, did her best to dismiss him and focus instead on the woman beside him.

  A woman who wore a diamond solitaire nestled next to a wedding band on her slender left hand.

  Branden did not strike Cara as the married type. Not even the divorced type. Chances were Deena Raj didn’t own him despite the way she’d so clearly staked her claim.

  She had to be who Branden had meant when he kept saying “we.” Cara was instantly on guard, knowing that she would have to be that way all the time if this was her other new boss. The woman was nothing short of perfect.

  “Hello.” Cara rose, smiling automatically. Deena’s flawless lips curved as Branden stood up to retrieve the other side chair, setting it next to his. They both sat.

  Two against one. Inherently not fair. Cara was grateful for a desk. She needed a defense against all that good breeding and fine tailoring. Not to mention the calm stares they were giving her.

  “Sorry to spring so much on you at once, Cara,” Branden said. “Deena’s heading up the IT team and she’ll be in charge of revamping the system as well as the new installation. Not that she does it personally,” Branden added. “She designed the system and wrote the code,” he ad
ded.

  “Really. That’s great.”

  Branden and Deena made no comment. Cara sensed a slight chill in the air. She struggled for something appropriate to say and settled for, “Will the name of the firm change?”

  “Not right away. There’s a lot to do first,” Branden said. “Deena and I have worked together on takeovers and purchases before, of course. It’s almost a routine with us. But every company is different.”

  Cara had a sneaking suspicion that these two did way more than work together. The subtle personal warmth in the discreet looks they exchanged, the way they stood just an inch or so closer than mere colleagues ever would, the occasional light touch of Deena’s lovely hand on Branden’s suit sleeve—yeah. Big fat clues, each and every one.

  It was entirely possible that Deena spent a fair amount of time in Branden’s great big bed with her long legs wrapped around his bare back, revamping his system for him.

  Cara chided herself for her uncharitable thoughts, which she would keep to herself. But she would still think them.

  “Well, just let me know what you need me to do,” she said.

  “Everyone will receive a detailed memo,” Deena said. “Plus individual attention. You’ll meet Mike Gaunt, our office manager, soon. I understand that your analyses show some insight.” That was not exactly praise. Good ol’ Max had just thrown her to these two wolves so he could go bang golf balls into outer space.

  “Mr. Duke and I were just going over six months’ worth of reports,” Cara told her. “I can prepare a complete file for you if you’d like hard copies of anything—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Deena purred. The interruption was soft but definite. “Your entire hard drive has been downloaded into our new server for our own analysis.”

  The beautiful lips curved again. Cara couldn’t call that expression a smile. But the informal meeting seemed to be at an end, for which she was grateful.

  “I see. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

  “We will. Branden, shall we move on?”