Dark Alpha (ALPHA 2)

An Alpha series novel

DARK ALPHA

by

Carole Mortimer

USA Today Bestselling Author

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2015 Carole Mortimer

Cover Design Copyright © Glass Slipper Designs

Editor: Megan Stevens

ISBN: 978-1-910597-02-6 mobi

ISBN: 978-1-910597-03-03 ePub

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved.

DEDICATIONS

For my husband Peter, as always.

And to all of you, again, for taking the time to read and

enjoy my books.

Chapter 1

“Do you know what the obvious answer to all your financial worries is, Nicky?”

Nicky was only half listening to her friend Chrissie as the two of them sat in the busy London coffee shop together, killing time before attending a university lecture. Her attention was all on the man who had just entered the noisy building, rather than listening to Chrissie’s ‘obvious answer’ to all her problems.

Chrissie hadn’t even noticed the man, of course.

Even if Chrissie hadn’t been sitting with her back to the door, she still wouldn’t have given the man so much as a second glance; Chrissie’s girlfriend was named Fleur, and she didn’t have a lot of time for men.

Besides which, Nicky didn’t particularly want to talk about her financial problems right now. The student loans that would need to be paid back once she finished her three-year degree course in six months time, and the goal of finding a job, did not constitute a fun discussion. She currently was barely managing to pay the rent on her flea-infested flat, as well as eat occasionally. Even with two evening jobs, one here at the coffee shop from five until eight in the evenings, and another at a take-out pizza down the road from eight until midnight every day.

Not that she had any other choice but to manage, when she and her younger brother had been left completely on their own five years ago. Their mother had died when Neil was six, and their father had been murdered when Nicky was eighteen and Neil just fifteen.

Something else she would rather not think about.

Not the day their father had died, and the way he had died, or the why; stealing from your gangster employer really wasn’t a good idea.

After their father’s funeral, Nicky and her brother had packed up everything they could carry and fled London, as if the hounds of hell were chasing after them. Anywhere and everywhere. It didn’t matter where, as long as they remained one step ahead of the thugs sent to look for them by the man responsible for killing their father.

That one step ahead had eventually turned into two, and then three, until finally there were no steps for anyone to follow, and Felicity and Richard Bennett had simply disappeared.

Nicky and Neil McKenzie had arisen like two phoenixes from the ashes. But always, always ready for flight.

It had been a risk coming back to London, of course, but it was where they had both grown up, where they were most comfortable. And their names weren’t the only things that had changed about them in the two and a half years they had been away. Nicky had grown her short blond hair long and dyed it a vibrant red, and she wore brown contact lenses over her natural hazel-blue eyes. Neil had affected similar changes to his own appearance, preferring to go with mud-brown hair and the brown contact lenses.

Deciding to go to university, as had been Nicky’s intention before her father’s life was ended so abruptly, had been yet another risk. But if Nicky had learned one thing during their years of exile, it was that the best place to hide an elephant was amongst other elephants. At the London School of Economics she was just another student, with little or no money, amongst thousands of other students in the same situation; she wouldn’t have even been able to afford to drink the coffee here if she weren’t eligible for the staff discount.

All of these things were good reasons why, for just a few time-out-of-real-life moments, Nicky would much rather sit here and drool over the hot and gorgeous man who had just walked into the coffee shop, rather than think of the past or her future.

The man’s suit alone must have cost what she could earn in six months doing two part-time jobs: charcoal grey in color, it was perfectly tailored to his wide shoulders, tapered waist, and long, muscled legs. He wore a white silk shirt beneath it, with a pale grey tie knotted meticulously at his throat. His black shoes were also of that incredibly soft leather that Nicky knew would have cost a small fortune. Mainly because she would never be able to afford to buy such beautiful shoes for herself.

Nicky had taken in all that elegance and wealth at a glance, her breath having left her completely the moment her gaze finally moved up to the man’s face.

Probably aged in his early to mid-thirties, ten years or more older than Nicky’s twenty-three, his face was aristocratic, his skin lightly tanned. His nose was long, cheekbones sharply etched, his chiseled lips firm and unsmiling as he reached the counter and ordered his coffee of preference. His chin was square and uncompromising, the expression in his electric green eyes contemptuous as he turned to look about the room while waiting for his order to be filled. He wore his dark, almost black hair in that overlong and tousled just-been-fucked style that could only be achieved at an exclusive and no doubt expensive salon.

Nicky’s heart stuttered a little as he picked up his coffee cup and once again turned to face the room, obviously looking for a vacant table amongst the busy lunchtime crowd.

That intense gaze passed over her, and for a moment, one madly insane moment, Nicky wanted to stand up and shout ‘sit here, sit here’ as she pointed frantically to the vacant seat at their table.

Luckily that narrowed gaze moved over and past her as he began to walk to the table just behind Chrissie, before Nicky had the chance to make a fool of herself.

Which was when she saw he wasn’t alone, but was with another man. The second man just hadn’t bothered with the coffee.

It was testament to how fascinated she’d been by Mr. Drool-Worthy that she hadn’t noticed the other man before now; dressed all in black, he was tall and deeply muscled, with a very noticeable scar at his temple, and his face harshly chiseled. Even as he walked—make that padded like a predator—the man’s piercing grey-green gaze seemed to be constantly scanning and evaluating everyone in the room.

As a bodyguard would?

It seemed a bit over the top for visiting a high-street coffee shop, but there was no doubting—

“Nicky, are you even listening to me?” Chrissie now snapped impatiently.

“Of course I am.” Nicky’s answer was distracted as she couldn’t seem to remove her gaze from the man with the mesmerizing green eyes, the other man only one step behind him as they both sat down on the uncomfortable seats at the next table. And both seemingly oblivious to all the female gazes following their every movement.

Nicky couldn’t help but continue to watch the first man as his top lip turned back with distaste as he removed the plastic top from the cup. He lifted it and took a tentative sip, confirming Nicky’s initial impression that he really didn’t belong in here, not with the students and the always-in-a-hurry junior business crowd.

Maybe these two men had just gotten lost and wandered away from the business sector of the city. Or maybe they were waiting for the rich guy’s chauffeur to arrive with the limousine and whisk them away. That seemed a more plausible—

“Well?”

Nicky gave a blink as she reluctantly turned away from staring at the men to instead look across the table at Chrissie. “Well what?”

Tall and thin, Chrissie had an impish beauty, her short blond hair styled in a messy cap about her face. “Do you or do you not want to know the answer to all your financial problems?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me whether I want to know or not.” Nicky was still only half paying attention as she watched the two men seated behind her best friend.

The one with the scar continued to keep a constant and narrowed-eye on the people in the coffee shop. Possibly confirming her guess that he was a bodyguard?

The drool-worthy man now took out his phone from the breast pocket of his jacket and began to check his messages, his hands as long and elegant as the rest of him.

As the rest of him...? Did that mean Nicky thought his shaft would also be long and—

“Well,” Chrissie settled herself more comfortably in her chair. “You need more money just to be able to eat, but you’re studying all day and working until midnight every evening, so that only leaves your nights—”
 

“I’m not sure I like where this conversation is going, Chrissie.” Her cheeks became flushed, both from her thoughts of a moment ago, and the subject of Chrissie’s conversation; the elegant man sitting behind Chrissie might give the outward appearance of still being engrossed in the screen of his phone, but
something
had caused that mockingly derisive smile now curving those sculpted lips.

Nicky was very much afraid that it might be their conversation. Chrissie wasn’t exactly keeping her voice down.

“Maybe we should discuss this again later?” She grimaced pointedly in the direction of the other table.

A hint Chrissie either ignored or simply didn’t recognize. “There won’t be time then. We have to go and listen to that boring old guest lecturer this afternoon, remember, as he drones on about how wonderful he is?”

The two women had met during the first week of university almost two and a half years ago, discovered they were taking the same business course, and remained friends ever since. Quite why Chrissie had chosen that particular course, when she had zero interest in the subject, was beyond Nicky. Adam Grant, the American professor heading their current shared course, was obviously of the same opinion, but as Chrissie aced all her exams, there was nothing he could do but grin and bear it when Chrissie chose to read a book or magazine during his lecture, rather than bothering to listen to him.

“I don’t believe Lucien Wynter is going to be in the least boring—”
 

“That’s because you’re into all that crap.” Chrissie gave a dismissive wave of her hand, at the same time managing to reject the fact that Lucien Wynter was reputed to be the most astute and successful businessmen in the country. He was also listed in the top ten of the fifty wealthiest people in the world.

“He isn’t old either. The financial newspapers always quote that he’s ‘aged in his thirties’—”
 

“Then he’s ugly.” Chrissie shrugged uninterestedly. “There has to be some reason why he refuses to be photographed. Definitely ugly.” Chrissie nodded knowingly. “The sort of ugly even all that wealth couldn’t compensate for.”

“There’s nothing wrong with valuing his privacy.” And, if anyone should know about that, then it was Nicky.

“There’s privacy and then there’s la la land,” Chrissie scorned. “I don’t know why, but people that wealthy so often seem to become paranoid too. The man probably lives in his slippers, stained trousers and a smelly sweater day and night. He probably also talks to the birds and watches porn all day, because he’s too ugly for any woman to even want to talk to him, let alone have sex with him for real.”

“You really are incorrigible, Chrissie!”

“Made you smile, though.” Her friend grinned at Nicky’s rueful chuckle. “And now that I have your full attention, can we get back to my original conversation?”

“Which is?” Nicky prompted patiently.

“That you need to become the mistress of some rich old man— Hey, maybe this Lucien Wynter would do?” She brightened. “Bat your eyelashes at him this afternoon and see what happens. Then he could take care of you as well as pay off all your debts. You would never need to work again.”

Nicky almost choked on the sip of coffee she had been about to take. “I’m looking forward to getting a decent job. Besides, I told you, Lucien Wynter isn’t old.”

“Pity.” Chrissie grimaced. “The old guys are the grateful ones, and they also have this reduced libido, so you probably wouldn’t need to have sex with him more than once or twice a month. I doubt he would be able to get it up more than—”