Owned: An Alpha Anthology (14 page)

DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY

14 - Brooklyn

Cassidy had outdone herself. She hadn’t allowed me to look into the mirror while she did my makeup and hair. When she finally was happy with her handiwork, she helped me into my dress and shoes, and then pulled me to the long mirror inside the cupboard door. I hardly recognized myself. Where were my freckles? And my hair—oh God, my hair . . . it was smooth and elegantly stacked on top of my head. I looked like a freaking movie-star in the gold-sequined dress, my skin glowing.

"You look a million dollars, honey. Mr. Debonair is in for a surprise, all right. Not a date . . . my ass," she huffed as she placed her dangling diamond earrings in my palm. "Put these on. They’ll finish the look off perfectly."

I stared into the mirror. Holy baby Jesus. I never thought I could look like this . . . So
grown-up
. Elegant. Sophisticated.

It was while I hugged her that I freaked out. I'd be caught out as a fraud. How was I going to make it through an entire evening without giving myself away? In spite of the beautiful and expensive dress, it was still the poor girl inside.

Cass ranted at me when I refused to answer my phone, and threatened bodily harm if I didn’t go down to meet the man waiting
not
so patiently. As much as I protested, doubly hard she pushed. I was totally out of my comfort zone, with no backup plan. My throat closed as Cassidy pecked a kiss on my cheek and closed the apartment door behind me, locking it.

My heart raced.
This is it.

Because of sweaty palms and my aversion to germs, I avoided touching the railing, clinging to my purse and watching my feet instead so I wouldn’t break my neck on my way down. These damn shoes—for the ridiculous price I’d paid they were by far the most uncomfortable ones I’d worn. But also the prettiest. My legs looked as if they went on for miles, all thanks to Italian designer flair.

Unaware that Tyler Sinclair stood on the landing of the staircase, his husky voice drifted toward me. "Brooklyn." All it took was one word for my heart to leap out of my throat—not only because I wasn’t expecting anyone there, but also because of the
way
he said my name. The word was loaded . . . sexy as sin. Hearing him use my name for the first time twisted my stomach into a tight knot.

My head jerked up from my feet into his stunned eyes, both of us completely derailed. The world stood still for a long moment—it was only us on the planet.

In reality a matter of seconds had passed before I stumbled  into his waiting arms. He pressed me against his hard chest.

"I’ve got you," he said, his tone clear and confident, his voice sending a delicious shiver up my spine. 

"Oh God," I whimpered, breathing in his scent, resting my head against him while I gathered myself. I hadn’t even made it to his car, and already I was making a fool of myself. As much as I wanted to learn and experience new things, I also knew when I was out of my depth.

Mr. Debonair did his name justice. He looked gorgeous in a black evening suit and bowtie—suave and elegant and . . . debonair.

"You look amazing," he said, pulling back slightly but not letting go of me. His smile reached his eyes, crinkling at the corners as he scrutinized my face.

"Thank you," I whispered, struggling to find my voice. For some reason, butterflies had taken over my stomach and his nearness messed with my brain. "You look great too."

He stepped away and offered his arm. Our eyes remained locked as I hooked in, grateful for the stability he offered, unable to keep a smile from spreading across my face. His shoulders relaxed as he patted my hand and then gave it a light squeeze as we made our way down, one step at a time, completely unhurried.

I gasped when my gaze fell on the red car standing under the pool of light from the street lamp. I'd never imagined I'd sit my ass in the seat of one of those. Tyler chuckled—clearly he got a kick out of my reaction to his mode of transport. Damn, I wanted to be as good as he was at what he did for a living. If he could afford a car like this, the man was raking it in.

"Like my baby?" he purred, his voice like velvet. He opened the door for me, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"It's okay. A little low for me," I said, acting cool and calm as I bent down to get in. He didn’t need to know just how much I was in absolute awe. "I never imagined that Tyler Sinclair needed a chick magnet to draw women."

His face was priceless—I bet no other female had ever said that to him. He rounded the car, the grin gone, and started the engine. The car roared to life, sending a spike of adrenaline through my body. I clutched the seat as Tyler pulled away from the curb. He put his foot down as he shifted through the gears, then accelerated as we got to the open road. My heart rate was off the charts, my stomach churning, yet I loved every frightening second.

"Relax. You look frightened to death." He laughed as we rounded a corner at a speed most cars would choke at. He placed his hand on my knee, giving it a light squeeze. I blinked up at him, my mouth forming a silent O before I leaned back in the seat and pretended it was the most natural thing in the world for his hand to be there. But underneath my worldly façade, my brain scrambled to make sense of it all. 

From under my lashes I stole sideway glances of his handsome face. He was in his element, clearly loving the brute force of the machine as he took it through its paces.

All too soon, he exited the expressway and drove toward the river, passing one mansion larger and more impressive than the other. This time I kept my mouth closed, pressing my lips together as I stared wide-eyed at our surroundings of conspicuous wealth, sinking deeper and deeper into the leather seat. He stopped the car in front of gigantic gates, idling the engine as he turned to me. "I have a little test for you, Miss Bennett."

My eyebrows rose to my hairline. A test? I swallowed hard, waiting for him to continue. His hand slid up my thigh and disappeared under my dress.
Holy shit.
I sucked in a breath as his fingers stroked over the lace of my panties.

I had to fight the impulse to squeeze my thighs together. God, I was getting wet, and he hadn’t even touched me
there
. I wasn’t sure if I should slap his hand away or open my legs and beg for more. I did neither.

"Take these off," he ordered. He removed his hand and sat back, watching me, his eyes dark and unreadable.  My heartbeat accelerated faster than his car.

What the hell kind of test was this?

"Why?" I breathed, cemented in the seat, my mouth dry.

"Because I said so, Miss Bennett. That’s all the reason you need." A slight smile twisted at the corners of his mouth. He held out his hand, palm up, waiting for me to place my expensive panties in them.

I didn’t move.

"Need help?" he growled. His eyebrows knit together as he stared at me. "Are you going to do it, or shall I?"

If he was trying to intimidate or scare me, it worked. But at the same time I was turned on beyond belief. I gave in to the temptation to squeeze my thighs together to calm the dull ache that had settled there.

"No. Not happening." I crossed my arms and glared at him.

His eyes widened, amusement and something else . . .
respect
shining back at me. He pursed his lips, stifling a grin or whatever else was making his lips twitch. I turned my head and stared at the guard waiting for us to enter through the gate.

"Those belong to me, Brooklyn. Don’t deny me." His voice was soft, yet threatening. He cupped my chin and turned my face back to his.

"What do you mean? I bought them with the company credit card. They aren’t yours."

"Oh yes, they are. Everything you’re wearing belongs to me."

I smirked. "So after I take off the panties and deposit them in your hand, you want the rest too?"

He shook his head, chuckling softly. It unnerved me more than if he were angry and aggressive. "Not right now. I’ll save that for later. First you must to pass this test. I need your submission. Give it to me."

"What part of
no
do you not understand? This test is ridiculous."

"By the end of this night you won’t be saying ‘no’, Miss Bennett. You’ll be wanting to take it all off and handing it to me, including your body."

"Really? Well you can have your dress, and everything else back tomorrow morning. Excluding my body."

"Before this night is over, I will own your body. In fact, you will be begging for me to delight you." 

"Wow, some inflated ego you have. You can buy a dress and all the rest, Mr. Sinclair, but you can't buy me. My body isn’t for sale. And I’m fussy about who I delight . . . or allow to delight me."

He gripped both my wrists with one hand and pulled me toward him, his minty breath heavy and warm in the small, enclosed space.

"I want you, Brooklyn. You will be mine. I will
own
you. Tonight."

"Is that right?" My heart was beating so fast, whooshing in my ears, that I was sure he could hear it too.

His finger ran up my arm, over my shoulder, down my breast, over my nipple, then to the other side. God, I hated my body. My nipples were rock-hard, responding to his touch in ways I didn’t want them to.

"Yes. You will belong to me. No other man will touch what is mine. I plan to explore every inch of this sumptuous body."

A car pulled up behind us and honked its horn. "Time to go inside. But you will stay close to me at all times. You will wait until I am ready to claim what I want. I will own your pussy—it will be mine."

He let go of me and shifted the red demon into first gear. The guard stood patiently at the open gate, waiting for us to go through. How much had he seen? Warmth spread up my chest and over my cheeks.

"I love when you blush. But tonight I’m going to make you flushed all over . . . make you squirm and scream my name. It's a promise. And I can't wait to do it."

The car roared as he pulled it into the impressive estate, lost in a sea of similar vehicles, all outward symbols of the power of their owners. Was I just a game to Tyler Sinclair? A conquest to add to his power-hungry agenda?

In spite of the warm, balmy evening I shivered as I climbed out of the car.

Did I want Tyler to own me? A part of me was excited—
thrilled
that he wanted me. Yet there was a part of me that couldn’t help but be afraid. In order for Mr. Debonair to own me, it would mean that I had to submit to him. Was I ready for that?

As for his test—had I failed?

I wanted to learn, to stretch my horizons. That’s what I'd come here to do. There was no substitute for real-world experience. Tyler Sinclair could give me that . . . and more.

This was about lust.

Sex, lust and power. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The Wall Street Series: Part
2 will be released early 2015.

(That’s sooner than you think!)

PLEASE take a minute to give Jani your feedback. Thanks!

OTHER BOOKS BY JANI KAY

Standalone Novel:

Open Your Eyes

Scorpio Stinger MC:

Ryder — Prequel (Book 0.5)

Two Worlds Colliding (Book 1)

Unchain My Heart (Book 2)

Firebird Trilogy:

Lost In France (Book 1)

No Regrets (Book 2)

Love on Wall Street Series:

Debonair: Part 1

ABOUT JANI KAY

Jani loves ice cream, the color red and the ocean. She also loves sexy alpha males with a soft center and a big heart. Her heroines are real women, sassy and smart and they stand up for what they believe in, even if it sometimes takes them a while to work it all out.

When Jani isn't writing, she can be found reading, hanging out with her family and friends, or off on some travel adventure to discover new places and cultures. Jani also loves sitting in a corner at a coffee shop, with her laptop, spying covertly on the behavior of the people around her. You just never know when you may land up in one of her novels - lol.

Fortunately Jani's partner in crime supports her living in alternative worlds and talking to characters that live in her imagination. He hasn't committed her to the looney bin - yet. Jani's two kids know that they are loved and cherished by their crazy mother who is now out to exact revenge for all the embarrassment they caused her when they were little - by her writing steamy sexy novels and publishing them.

Jani hopes you will enjoy reading about the characters that live in her head and insist on being brought to life through her novels.

She hopes you will drop by at [email protected] for a chat or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter or her blog.