Her Alpha Lover: A Draken and Charli Boxed Set (2 page)

He didn't have to care what his boss thought of him, because he didn't have a boss.

"Here's the deal, Ms. Fontina," Draken Almatto said and reached out to adjust her glasses on her nose. "Did that hurt?" he said, sounding surprised when Charli flinched.

"N-no. I—uh—just—" What was wrong with her tongue?
Go on, tell him that touch was inappropriate. And no need to mention how it sizzled a burn straight to a certain throbbing spot between your legs.

He let his hand drop. "What I'm about to suggest is highly inappropriate," he said wryly, just as if he'd read her thoughts. "I'm prepared to pay you well for it, if that means anything. Let's say...twenty thousand dollars?"

Charli gasped.

"Which I happen to know you could use," he continued smoothly. "I follow your profile updates, you know. I know your rent has increased and your business expenses have risen this year since your boss has demanded you acquire a new wardrobe."

Charli gasped again.

"Yes," he continued, smiling, "I've been intrigued by your public profile for quite some time. Are you aware, Ms. Fontina, that one key factor in hiring your company last year was my fascination for one of its employees?"

She shook her head, blinking rapidly.
Note to self. Check privacy settings on personal Facebook page to deter rich, crazy stalkers.

"No, of course not, how could you be? It's true, though. You hail from Grand Rapids, Michigan. You have no siblings. Your mom was a single parent before she died. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"Thanks, it was four years ago," Charli said, bewildered. "How—
why
do you know so much about me?"

"As I said, I read your profile." His hand was skimming down her throat, his fingers playing at her collar bone above the first blouse button.

"But why?" Paralyzed by his words, she somehow forgot to object to his touch.

He shrugged. "I happened across your picture one day, then began reading your updates. You're funny, you know that? Very witty, your little stick figure comics. I wasted an entire day reading them. You should consider publishing them. Like you, they're damn cute."

She shook her head. "I—uh—I—thanks, but—you do realize how strange that is?"

And again he shrugged. He clearly didn't care what she thought of him. "And your pics...I have to admit, I've thought more than once that I could fuck you. Unfortunately, I'm not looking for a relationship. I like my life without strings and my freedom is important to me. I get the sense you're not into casual sex, though. Would you agree?"

She nodded dumbly.

"Yeah, you're a relationship kind of girl, aren't you?" His finger slid into her cleavage.

She glanced down, stunned to find that he'd unbuttoned the first two buttons of the blouse and his finger was paused between her plumped up-breasts, amidst a smattering of freckles. Her hand twitched,but otherwise she did nothing to stop him. She was blushing. Again. Paralyzed again. "R-right. Definitely."

"No matter what your pussy tells you, you'll always want the romance. The angsty life stories. The ridiculous sentimental stuff. The family picnics. You'd rather take your own middle finger with a dreamy fantasy than a real guy's cock. I'm right, aren't I?"

He did not just say that. How do I respond? That's it, Mr. Almatto, I'm calling the lewdness police?
"M-Mr. Almatto, this isn't—I can't—"

"Right, that's what I thought." He sighed. "So I decided as fresh as you are, Ms. Fontina, you're not for me. I'm as jaded as you are naive, but even I can't quite bring myself to pluck your bud, so to speak. However, you are a luscious little package and since you turned up unexpectedly today in your boss's stead, I find myself reluctant to let you go unopened. And as I said, I think my staff deserve a bonus for working their asses off this summer."

She was shaking her head almost continually now. This was surreal. Unbelievable.

"For twenty thousand dollars, Ms. Fontina, I'd like you to remove your blouse and bra and continue with your pitch to us." His voice was low and caressing. "I'd like you to draw it out for, oh, about an hour. You don't have to do anything else. Just go on with your presentation as usual. Then when you're done, put your bra and top back on, shake everyone's hand, and go on your merry way."

And Charli thought she'd been flabbergasted before!

"P-pardon? I—what? No." She could not stop staring at him. "What? Do you think I'm a stripper?"

He smiled gently. "Anyone can be a stripper. What would it hurt? All I'm asking is for you to spice up this incredibly boring meeting and give my guys a little stimulating entertainment while we get through this necessary business." He stroked the upper curve of her breast. "My staff's satisfaction means a lot to me. They've earned a surprise like this."

"You're crazy," she breathed.

He chuckled. "Only sometimes."

"But why would you want—I mean, me? Seriously?" She made a gesture toward herself. "I'm not seductive in the least. Unless you want me to take off my glasses and act...uh..."

His head tilted. "The glasses definitely stay
on
. Let's just say you have...evident enthusiasm." His eyes were on her chest. "You'll do fine."

Damn nipples.

"I'd be so nervous," she confessed, twisting her hands together. "I know this suit is terrible. I'm not exactly an exhibitionist."

She didn't add:
To be honest, Mr. Almatto, I feel self-conscious when my knees are showing!

"That's part of your charm, Ms. Fontina," he assured her. "The more gauche you are, the better. The usual seductive show is boring. You, though...you'll be lively entertainment. Trust me."

Truly, the man was beyond eccentric.

She shook her head. "It's a ridiculous amount of money, but I can't do it. Naturally. You can't have thought I'd agree."

He nodded. "I know how anxious you are about your career. I'll put the fear of the devil into my men about breathing a word of this to anyone. They're all easygoing single guys. They'll have a blast. The reputation of GudRelashuns.com is safe. Your job is safe. I give you my word."

"Your word?" she echoed. "But—Mr. Almatto, I still don't really understand why you'd ask
me
...."

He looked innocent. "Come now, Ms. Fontina, is it that strange to ask you to provide a titillating service to my staff, no pun intended?"

"Well, yes. It feels...I don't know, personal."

"To be honest, Ms. Fontina, it is personal. You've been making me a bit...shall we say, distracted, and, frankly, after meeting you in person, I'm pissed off I can't have you. Maybe I consider this payback."

"But I didn't—I had no idea you were stalking me—"

"How could you? Such is the virtual world." He smiled at her, and the look struck her as unfriendly.
He doesn't like his attraction to me. I'm an inconvenience.

Twenty thousand freaking dollars. She recalled that this man was mega-wealthy. He'd said he didn't do relationships. She could well believe it, when his looks could furnish him all the sex he wanted even without his overstuffed pocketbook.

"Let's just say it would satisfy me to see you in this position today. Twenty thousand dollars, Ms. Fontina. For baring your breasts to me and my staff for sixty minutes, give or take. Will you do it?" His smile was irresistible, and he knew it.

He probably expects me to refuse.

Only if Charli refused, she'd be forced to return with her tail between her legs, and she could kiss her promotion good-bye.

"How could I trust you to live up to your side of it?" she asked slowly.

"You couldn't," he said instantly. "Trusting me would be foolish, knowing me as briefly as you have. However, I happen to be a man of my word."

She shook her head slowly, not in denial, but in puzzlement. Something about this man seemed sincere.

Serial killers seem sincere, too, Charli.

"Okay, I have to know. Does your decision about our proposal hinge on my, um, performing? Because if so, that's a clear case of sexual harass-"

He laughed. "No. I have no objection to putting in a good word for your, shall we say,
proactive
attitude. But I fully intend to accept your proposal regardless of what you do. Even if nobody showed up today, I'd have accepted it. It's fucking creative. You came up with the concept, didn't you?"

She nodded. As her gaze dropped in confusion, it glanced off his slacks, and she sucked in a breath. The front of his pants was tented hugely by his very blunt and obvious erection.

"Yeah, I find it annoying," he sighed, as if in answer to something she said—only she hadn't said anything. His fingers moved and abruptly Charli felt a pinch on her nipple. She gasped and stepped back at the dart of pain and exquisite pleasure.

"W-what is?" she stammered.

"That you're such a good girl. If you were a player like me, we'd have been in bed months ago and it would be all done with by now."

How flattering. And arrogant. But probably true.
Her chin went up. "If I do this, wouldn't that make me a bad girl by definition?"

"I certainly hope so," he said, smiling. With that, he slid off the table and walked back around to his chair, even as the door clicked open loudly and the room was suddenly filling again with people.

Men people.

She stared at them as they re-seated themselves. She had the wild urge to giggle. Her nervousness before was as nothing to now. She couldn't meet Draken's eyes.

Jesus.

Twenty thousand dollars.

She was a typical underpaid grunt. That kind of money would give her breathing room to find a new job if this career track fell through. Money to invest in promoting her comics. She could move to a nicer apartment, perhaps.

Or it could all be a cruel trick. He could be laughing inside at her gullibility.

She tried to assess his sincerity. His expression as he returned her stare was unreadable. She didn't totally get it, but right then she believed him. Every word, every promise, every explanation.

It made her angry. He wanted her to strip off her clothes in front of his staff? What kind of guy wanted the woman he was attracted to to do that? She thought it was a pretty hostile move. It was like a punishment of her for just
being
. And she'd done nothing wrong.

She should leave.

But she knew she wouldn't. This was happening.

She was going to take off half her clothes for this group of gorgeous men.

And they had no clue.

She cleared her throat and shut her eyes. Her fingers were trembling as they rose to the lapels of her suit jacket and painstakingly began to slide it off her shoulders.

Draken's voice rang out. "Hey, dudes, heads up. We're changing things up a bit. What's about to go down stays in this room. No phone pics, no tweets, no statuses, no tattling. Anybody have a problem with that, talk to me now."

Grins broke out on the men's faces. Charli's fingers froze, aware of a shift in the atmosphere.

"Oh, shit," a blond guy said. "Draken's up to something."

"Just a bit of amusement," Draken drawled. "All right, everybody, sit back, relax, and most of all...pay attention. Help Ms. Fontina out. As we all can see, she's extremely nervous, presenting to us today. She really needs our help to unwind."

As we all can see?
So she was that obvious? Anxiously her gaze flew to Draken. He looked back steadily. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

The smart thing was to leave. Even allowing herself to consider his proposal was humiliating to a degree. If she continued...

No. She was fine. She'd done nothing wrong. Her chin lifted. She would do this, and she
wouldn't
be ashamed of her ill-fitting business suit or the her average looks. He'd asked for it, so...with resolve, Charli dropped her jacket onto a chair back.

Then she sucked it in and began to unbutton her blouse.

Suddenly you could hear a pin drop in the room.

"Ms. Fontina, we're getting bored, here," Draken said into the silence, his eyes narrowed. "Please resume your pitch."

She stiffened as it dawned on her he expected her to continue her spiel while she was stripping—if you could call this prosaic unbuttoning stripping.

She swallowed. "Um. Right, okay. To recap what I was saying before the break..." She began haltingly to speak, her voice soft now, as her fingers clumsily worked the buttons. Focusing on intelligent speech when she was conscious of her shirt parting, of her newly exposed bra, was torture.

There were a couple of smothered laughs. Her words faltered. She froze with the material half off her shoulders.

Oh, damn, her bra. It was a sturdy, black, lace-free number that, despite the sexy color, was made for support rather than provocation. Inwardly she cringed. She had a few nice-looking bras in the back of her drawer. Why had she not worn any of them today? Her face felt like it could melt ice.

"I didn't quite hear your last statement, Ms. Fontina," Draken said innocently. "John, did you catch that?"

"Nope," said a cheerful voice.

"Project your voice, please," someone else called.

And suddenly everyone was talking, "encouraging" her, and Charli could
feel
the amusement in the room. Oddly, it didn't seem malicious. These guys weren't actively trying to make her miserable, she sensed. They were just enjoying themselves, watching a sexy show. A few loosened their ties; one jabbed his neighbor with his elbow and chuckled. They were having a good time.

The only one who seemed at all tense was herself. Well, and Draken, surprisingly. His lips were pressed flat.

Yeah, she thought, he really hadn't thought she'd do it.

He probably hadn't bet on her doing it to show him she
could
.

Charli stared straight at him, forcing herself to go on—with talking, with taking off her blouse. Her hands shook badly, and she was embarrassed to hear the stammering nonsense that poured from her mouth.

And to realize that if her nipples were saluting before, now they were clapping and shouting,
Look here! This bra is pathetic! It hides nothing!