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I whimpered slightly, but still couldn’t speak. The drumbeat in my abdomen had moved lower, to my clit, and now it was a jazz drum solo, the pulsing so irregular and fast I wondered if I was having some sort of attack. Aclitattack. This had to be a medical condition. I’d never felt anything so intense before. Like I could have an orgasm by mere proximity to this man.
My eyes trailed back up his body, but caught on the front of his trousers. And the ridiculously huge lump that was suddenly growing there, destroying the perfect line of his suit. As I stared, I could almost make out the widened knot at the base of a wine-bottle-thick erection.
There was no way that was real. But what if it was?
Everybody had a party trick, and mine had always been to fit my entire fist in my mouth. But that was probably wider than my fist. I chewed at my lip, considering hypotheticals. Maybe, if I used enough lip gloss, and came at it from an angle… I blinked furiously, reminding myself that I was not here for an alpha.
Think of the children, Soleil. Think of the money.
I shivered as he inhaled sharply, and my eyes returned to his face. “Who are you?” he repeated, a phone out and in his hand already. “This is a private pier and a private event, girl.”
I frowned. I’d liked him better when he kept his mouth shut. “I’m not a girl. I’m twenty-four. I’m from the Blue Skies Concierge agency.” I pulled my own phone out and turned it to face him. He stopped typing on his own and snatched it away, reading aloud.
“Soleil Annette Fairweather, twenty-four years old… betasitter?” That sharp jawline clenched as he sniffed. For some reason, he began to growl slightly, as if there were some threat I couldn’t see. I glanced around, my pulse jumping, then inched away. He growled louder. “I hope you’re a more accomplishedbetasitterthan you are a liar, Miss Fairweather.”
I forced my features to smoothness. Did he suspect I was an omega? “How rude. I don’t know who you are, but I have a job to get to. So if you’ll hand back my phone, Mr…”
“Grantham.” He stepped closer, so that I had to crane my neck to meet his stern gaze. “Giovanni Grantham.”
“Oh crap,” I breathed, now that my brain had started working again.
Thiswas Giovanni Grantham? The notoriously private, billionaire co-owner of at least a quarter of the cruise ships in the world. Chosen as Bachelor of the Year five times byAlpha Rollmagazine until he bought out the entire parent media company and dismantled it, just to stop the annual articles about him. Supposedly, he’d hated the nickname the magazine had given him, when they reported that the gorgeous man before me had never once been seen to smile.
Unfortunately, that’s what slipped out of my mouth as I greeted my new boss. “Grumpy Grantham?”
Chapter3
Grumpy
Iknew I was a miserable asshole. I had to be. At forty-two, I’d spent two full decades at the helm of Duchess Cruises, the company my father had dumped in my lap with a casual “Don’t fuck it all up,” on his way to retire to a small island near Bali.He was living his dream, but there was no place for that sort of frivolousness in my life. Dreaming only led to mistakes. In my work, a single fuckup could cost thousands their jobs or even their lives.
In my personal life? Well, I’d learned the hard way not to allow the slightest deviation when it came to navigating my way through the dangerous waters of being one of the wealthiest unmarried alphas alive. It was unbelievable what women and even some men would do to try to lure me to them. As if being at my side at a gala, or in my bed, meant they owned some part of me.
So I embraced my asshole nature. And except for one notable exception, I’d managed to stay on course for decades, keeping my family afloat financially, my friends few enough that I knew who I could trust, and everyone else as far away as possible.
But now, not two full minutes after meeting a young woman in a modest, bright yellow lace dress that promised innocence—though the curves underneath hinted at wild nights of debauchery—I was lost.
First, in her scent, coconut and some lush tropical flower, that lay under a heavier layer of awful, cloying perfume. Her own underlying notes emerged when I touched her, though, and sank like a stone straight to my cock. That part of me had been half-hard after one brush of her silken skin, and now was threatening to tear its way through my favorite suit to get to her.
Her thorough inspection hadn’t helped one bit. My knot had even begun to swell at the base, like it wanted to make sure she noticed it, too.
Then, I’d made the mistake of looking into her eyes, the green and blue swirls of her irises like some sort of tidepool that trapped unwary men. The long lashes that framed them. The innocence that shone, along with curiosity and a blooming sensuality.
She was every fantasy I’d never allowed myself, come to life.
My fucking teeth ached like I’d bitten into something cold, and the only thing that could soothe the pain was her hot skin under them. Her soft flesh, breaking slightly as I bit down, claiming her as mine. Marking her forev…
I stopped breathing, a frisson of dread running down my spine. It wasn’t possible.
I didn’t believe in true mates. Only one alpha I knew claimed to have met his, and she’d been standing at the altar with another man at the time. But he’d told me what it felt like once, when we were drunk. “Like getting kicked in the dick so hard you forget how to breathe, forget your name,” Victor had mumbled. “And all you want is for her to keep kicking until you die from the pain.”
Of course, ridiculously sappy movies and books portrayed it far more romantically. Supposedly, if you met yours, you justknew.
But this woman… One breath of her, and my cock ached.
I clenched my fists as she stared at the front of my trousers. A small bead of sweat rolled down her temple, dampening her golden curls, and her lips moved. She whispered something about children, and then, when I leaned in closer, breathing in that ridiculous tropical scent that made me want a drink with a fucking umbrella in it more than I ever had in my life… I heard her words clearly.
“Think of the money.”
