Overzealous Alphas

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asks in that husky voice that makes the muscles in my lower body clench tightly. We’ve been spending every night together since he ambushed me in the bathroom, and that’s all I want to do right now. It’s as if I can’t get enough of him. “We should watch a movie,” he adds, slowing his steps and forcing me to do the same. When I look into his eyes, I see they’re blazing with amusement.

  “Hmmm,” I say, tapping my chin thoughtfully. He growls, and I grin. The bastard knows exactly what I want to do.

  “We could do a little more, too. I know that’s what you have in mind,” he whispers in my ear and I am fucking putty in his hands.

  “How do I put up with your ego?”

  He gives me a knowing smile. “Very easily. You fucking love my ego.”

  I snort—a very unlady-like sound—and begin walking again.

  He opens the front door of our apartment building. “So, movie tonight?”

  “Yeah, a movie sounds—”

  “Hey, Lynn,” a familiar voice says.

  I stiffen, my eyes fixing on the guy standing just inside the lobby. The guilt I’ve been trying to ignore suddenly floods me. I swallow. “Hi,” I reply, being careful to avoid looking at Ethan. “What are you…ah, what are you doing here?”

  “Hey,” Ethan says, stepping forward, but not extending his hand in greeting. I can sense his unease, can sense his protectiveness…for me.

  “Ethan, this is, ah…”

  “I’m Jacob, Lynn’s boyfriend,” Jacob says, eyeing Ethan like he’s about to attack him.

  I cringe internally over the word. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. It echoes around my head, but so does another word: cheater. I chance a glance at Ethan, finding his expression carefully blank.

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I thought you said you were her boyfriend.”

  Jacob wraps an arm around my waist and it feels so wrong. “High school sweethearts,” he confirms, pulling me in tighter. “Been dating for five years.”

  I give Jacob a watery smile, then turn to Ethan. I need him to understand. I need him to see that I want him, not Jacob. But Ethan’s expression is stormy for a moment. Then, all of a sudden, his eyes clear and he’s back to his normal amused self.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Gracey,” he says, leaning down to kiss me gently on the cheek. I stare at him wide-eyed, wondering what the fuck he’s thinking. He only gives me a sad smile. “I’ll see you at the next game.”

  I watch him go, feeling Jacob step away from me. I turn to find him digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You said something about a movie?” he asks.

  I nod. What the fuck is happening? Why is he here? “I thought we were going to see each other over the break.” Fuck, my voice sounds so hollow.

  “I know, but I couldn’t wait to see you again. I miss you, Lynn. Come on, show me your room.”

  As I take the stairs to my apartment, I can’t help but wonder what Ethan must be thinking right now. Will he hate me? Will he take me back? Do I even deserve that after this betrayal?

  I am so fucking screwed.

  Elijah

  This day starts with a bang. First, I lose my car keys, I look everywhere. I rip my place apart, and nothing. So, I call my brother Jon to pick me up, and we go to bid on a job. We end up in the posh neighborhood of Pemberly Estates which was mansion alley; when we ring the doorbell, a woman dressed in a maids outfit answers the door.

  She shows us to the office where her employer was waiting. “Ah, gentlemen, please come in and have a seat, I’m Joel Fitzwilliam,” he states. “I want to have the pool house refinished into an apartment for my daughter.” Jon and I follow Mr. Fitzwilliam to an outside structure that was bigger than my fifteen hundred square foot home. I whistle under my breath as Jon frowns at me.

  “So, you see that it is in dire need of an overhaul, my daughter is a lawyer and needs her space,” he mutters. “You come highly recommended by one of my closest friends sons, George Wickham.” I take out my digital laser measuring tape and begin jotting down the dimensions on the pad of paper I have. He goes on to explain how they want to open up the kitchen, extend the living room and have an office added on to the bedroom.

  Mr. Fitzwilliam and Jon walk back to the house while I recheck my measurements. Everything seems right, and I walk down the hall when I hear a noise. I poke my head into the spacious bedroom, and a woman saunters out from the ensuite in only a towel. She was stunning, her perfect legs were long and sleek. My jeans grow tight in the crotch as I think about having them wrapped around my thighs while I took her hard against the wall. I step back to avoid her seeing me, tripping on a pair of her shoes as I try to regain my balance. No such luck as I fall against the wall and knock a framed print over that crashes to the floor.

  The raven-haired beauty looks up to see what caused the disturbance. When she sees me, she says, “Who are you? You better get out of my house,” she mutters as she reaches for something behind the door.

  Next thing I know, she comes out swinging a bat at me, which barely misses my head. “Hey, calm down,” I mutter as I raise my arms over my head.

  “Don’t you tell me what to do!”

  Then it happens; her towel comes loose and pools around her feet. Holy shit, she was perfect, as in perfect measurements and trust me, I do this for a living. This dynamo had a flawless body.

  “Get out,” she hollers. I bend down and pick up her towel, damn she smells good, then she cracks me hard on my right hand. “Goddamnit,” I howl and drop everything on the hard wood floor. She smashes the bat down again, this time demolishing my gadget. “Hey, that was brand new,” I holler at her.

  “Really, so is my bat!” She shrieks and grabs her towel from the floor, trying desperately to cover her curves up.

  “Look, I’m here to take the measurements for a renovation. Your dad hired my brothers and me to remodel your place, so you don’t need to get all bent. I didn’t mean to scare you, lady. I’m just doing my job, that’s all.”

  “Doing your job? Is it your job to measure the walls or me?” She shakes her head and goes back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  ***

  “What are you so pissy about?” Jon asks as he starts up the truck. “Jesus, Eli, what the hell crawled up your ass?”

  “Don’t we have somewhere to be?” I groan and rake my hand through my hair, “I kind of ran into Mr. Fitzwilliam’s daughter.”

  “Goddamnit, Eli, I hope you didn’t screw up this contract for us,” he mutters.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Jon? I’ve done nothing wrong, not entirely my fault, anyway.”

  Jon throws the truck into park, “What?”

  “Okay, I heard a noise coming from the bedroom and looked to see what it was, I thought I was alone in the house. Then, she walked out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.” Jon gasps, and I could tell he was getting ready to rip me a new one. “I didn’t see anything,” I mutter. Even when the words fell from my mouth, I didn’t believe them either.

  “Eli, what do you mean you didn’t see anything?” he asks while his gaze bores into me. Jon was the oldest, and I was the second oldest; you know how that goes. Oldest is perfect, and the middle kids are screw-ups. “Answer me,” a string of expletives follow, and if our mom were sitting with us, he would’ve gotten a good slap from her.

  “Yo, language, Jon,” and I think that’s when he loses it.

  “Language? Really, what are we eight and nine again?” He questions while pounding his fists on the steering wheel. “You need to control your libido; she’s a client and nothing more than that. This is a huge contract for us, not only the pool house but also the floor in the building where they have their law firm.”

  “Jon, I promise nothing has been compromised, okay,” I reach to the side and grab my seatbelt.

  “What happened to the digital measuring tape?” He looks at me and begins to drive down the winding lane to the road, ??
?I really don’t want to know, do I?”

  ***

  When we got to the building, Jon parks in the underground parking lot, and we get out. I press the button for the floor we want and the door unlocks. We get on the elevator, and it was easy to see that this place was full of people that thought they were too good for the likes of Bennett Brothers Construction.

  The door opens on the fortieth floor, and we walk over to a woman sitting behind an obscenely large desk, “Ms. Debow will be with you shortly,” she mutters. We sit in the large, overstuffed chairs, waiting to discuss the project that we had been hired to do. I think we sit for about ten minutes when the elevator opens and out walks the tantalizing beauty from the house. Just great, I didn’t want her to see me right now, so I sink into my chair and hide behind a magazine. She mutters something to the girl behind the desk and continues walking down the large corridor.

  Jon looks over at me and shakes his head; I know I would hear a mouth full when we left today. But, I stand by my words, I didn’t see anything that I haven’t seen before, and I’ve never seen anything as perfect as her luscious curves. My mouth waters at the thought and a trickle of sweat passes over my temple and down my cheek. Christ, this girl was going to be the death of me or at the very least, give me blue balls for the next few months!

  Darcy

  As if I need this, I am late for work because I overslept. I would’ve been at work already if I hadn’t had that confrontation with the construction guy; but as for my luck, I arrive a half hour late.

  I pay the cab driver and make my way to the grandiose doors of my work. This is the third time this week I was late. God as my witness, if there was one thing I knew for sure it was Catherine DeBow, my superior, didn’t understand was when anyone came in late. Especially, if said someone was me, her niece, and a woman working hard to make in the male-dominated profession of lawyers. And in saying it like that, was an understatement of epic proportions.

  When the elevator doors open, it zips me up to the fortieth floor.

  ***

  I walk into the hectic everyday life that this floor was known for. The décor was soothing with a large waiting room for our clients to relax; it was a sharp contrast to the people who worked here. I head to my office and stop outside my door to speak with my secretary.

  “Any calls,” I ask Lydia.

  “No, Ms. Fitzwilliams, but,” and her words were left hanging in the air as someone grabs my arm, pulling me into my office.

  “Oh my God, Darcy, your Aunt is out for blood this morning,” Charlee, my oldest and dearest friend, huffs.

  “Didn’t you get any of her calls? I swear she must have called you at least ten times.”

  Charlee looks at me as her eyes widen, “Where is your phone?”

  “Of all days,” I mutter aloud, shaking my head. “I put it on silent last night. My dad is trying to set me up with this guy, and he kept calling me.”

  “Where is she? What is going on this morning? Did I miss something important,” I ask her. I was freaking out, rivulets of sweat trickle through my hair and fall from my temple as I go over in my mind what meetings I had for the day.

  “Yes, young lady.” Charlee and I freeze where we stand because directly in front of us was none other, than the Dragon Lady, herself, my Aunt Cathrine.

  I grimace as she addresses Charlee, “Be a dear and fetch us some coffee, please.” My mouth falls open as she begins a mild tirade on my friend and co-worker as she stands transfixed in place. “Did I stutter? Quite frankly, I don’t care, but I would appreciate a cup of coffee, and you can bring it to my office.”

  Charlee tilts her head to the right, “Ms. Debow, you do know that I work here. We have secretaries that can do that, but I’m not a secretary.”

  Catherine smirks, but it doesn’t register on her unreadable gaze.

  “Do you like your job, Charlee? I am quite aware of what your status is within this company.” Her eyes shift to something that seems a tad like irritation. “What I’m not clear on is why you are still standing here and not getting coffee for Ms. Fitzwilliam and myself.”

  Charlee opens her mouth to explain, but I cut her off, “I take mine black, Miss Bingley. Thank you.”

  We walk into my aunt’s spacious office, it has a breathtaking view of the city. “Sit,” she commands and takes a seat behind her mahogany desk. She clasps her hands together as she purses her lips. “You have been late for the last three days,” her eyes narrow at me. “You understand, that I can’t have this continue, Darcy,” a soft knock comes to the door before it opens and Charlee walks in with a tray of coffee. She sits it gently on Aunt Catherine’s desk and leaves without uttering a word.

  “That girl needs guidance, if you don’t help her, I’m afraid I’ll have to let her go. She putters around all discombobulated, and it’s making a mockery of our firm,” my aunt mutters and clucks her tongue.

  “I’m sure she’s not that horrible,” I make the unfortunate mistake of rolling my eyes.

  “Darcy Fitzwilliam, I will not tolerate this behavior,” she begins with a huff. “I need this firm to continue to remain on top in this city. You are here because of your drive. Now, I expect you on time for now on, I will not accept anything else.” Her wrinkled face turns up as I stand, “Remember our meeting, four o’clock, sharp.”

  Damn, how do I get myself into these messes? If it hadn’t been for that construction guy, I would’ve been on time. I blow out a breath as I pull my phone from my pocket and turn the ringer back on, then walk down the hall to grab a fresh coffee. Charlee’s coffee and I say this with love; was horrible.

  The staff room was empty, and I revele in the small victory of not having to look interested with one of my peers as they speak about their ridiculously happy lives. I set my briefcase on the counter and pull my mug from the cupboard, and I look at the flavors of K-cups and decid on a Chai Latte. It sputters and drips into the cup I place under the nozzle; this was going to be a long day. I sit at one of the tables and take out my agenda, studying it to calculate how I could make this day move a bit fast.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” geez, now what. I raise my eyes up from my book and look at the person that had interrupted me, “Can I help you,” I ask a pleasingly handsome man. He looks an awful lot like the man at my apartment earlier, could he be related? Nah, what are the chances that they would be related and both in my way in a matter of an hours tie of each other. I notice the name Jon on his coat and he was dressed in jeans, carrying tools, obviously to fix some things around the office.

  “Well, I didn’t want to disturb you, we can come back later after everyone has left for the day.” He smiles.

  “That’s fine. I was just leaving. You can have the room.” With my coffee in one hand and briefcase in the other, I head toward my office when my cell goes off. I search inside the pocket of my suit jacket, then my leather bag, when someone or something collides into me and my coffee goes all over my new cream-colored suit.

  “What the…”

  “It’s my fault,” a deep masculine voice confirming his guilt. I look up, into the face of the exact same construction worker from this morning. His eyes widen then narrow at me.

  “You damn right it’s your fault. Apparently, you didn’t get the memo that said “when you’re with civilized people, you don’t need to drag your knuckles on the floor.” My face grows hot as thoughts of hurting him swirl in my mind,“You’re going to pay to replace this,” I seethe.

  “Damn, you’re a real firecracker, aren’t you,” he chuckles.

  “I’m not a firecracker, but you are a total buffoon if you think, for one minute, that you’re not paying to replace this suit,” I sneer. He stands in front of me, and the humor fades from his face. I was about ready to call security when he grabs my arm and pulls me over to the sink. He rips some paper towels off the roll and wets them, and tries to wipe off the coffee that has by now, ruined my suit. Not only that, but he cops a feel, smirking at me, and before I have a chance
to think, I slap him across the face. Angry red lines raise up on his cheek as he stares at me with rage.

  “Oh no,” I feign shock, “Please don’t be mad.” Of course, I say this in jest, because, well, I didn’t give a damn what he thought. “Now, get out of my way and don’t touch me again.”

  “Honey, you couldn’t pay me to touch you,” he grunts. My mouth falls open at his remark, and the man behind me laughs. I round on him, and he holds his hands up in surrender.“Go play lawyer, Princess,” the brooding bafoon scoffs.

  “This is not over!” I pick up my things and walk down the corridor to my office.

  Lydia was standing with a hand over her mouth, “What happened, Darcy?” She asks with concern, but I don’t answer as I close the door behind me. Now, I have to go home and change. That would be another hour wasted because of this construction guy, who also made me late for work. Who did he think he was, anyway?

  Darcy

  “Hey, Darc!”Lydia breaks through the fog of my day just as I was finishing up some paperwork. I looke up and smile, “You're meeting us down at Lefty’s tonight right?” she asks, and I nod yes, “Great, see you there in an hour.”

  I ring through to Charlee’s office, “Hey girl, you ready for some fun?” I don’t think I hear her hang up before she was at my door. “Wow, you’re in a good mood,” I observe. To be honest, this girl was the eternal optimist; she always has a kind word for everyone she met; well, except my aunt.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, when I was at lunch today I met the nicest guy,” she gushes. Oh great, another As the World Turns for Charlee!

  “You did? Here at the office?”

  “Uh, sort of, he’s meeting us at the bar. I’m so excited for you to meet him.”

  “Please tell me he’s not a letch or anything like that,” I mutter, “Okay, he’s not an unemployed bum, is he?”