FLAWLESS (A BWWM Alpha Billionaire Romance) Read online

  FLAWLESS

  ALYCIA BROWN

  COPYRIGHT 2015 ALYCIA BROWN

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher or author. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or received an advanced copy directly from the author, this book has been pirated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  DEDICATION

  To Harrison B. Love you. Love you. Love you.

  Yours,

  Alycia

  OTHER BOOKS BY ALYCIA BROWN

  More to come soon…

  DESCRIPTION

  STANDALONE ROMANCE. NO CLIFFHANGER.

  When billionaire diamond dealer Ronan Pratt decides to open a new store location on quaint little Willow Street, he doesn’t care that he’s going to snuff out the locally owned jeweler across the street. It’s all par for the course. It’s how his family business got to the top after all.

  But he’s not prepared when the owner of the shop, 25-year-old jewelry designer Alexis Turner, confronts him. Fierce, headstrong, and determined to save her shop, Alexis is not intimidated by his good looks, his power, or his ungodly amount of money. She’s going to do whatever it takes to preserve her livelihood. Never mind their undeniable attraction. Never mind their fire and ice chemistry.

  But what happens when the one person you find yourself wanting, is the one person who stands in the way of everything you’ve ever worked for?

  NOTE: Contains a white, panty-melting alpha billionaire and an independent, intelligent, beautiful black woman. Please be 18+.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ONE - ALEXIS

  TWO - RONAN

  THREE - ALEXIS

  FOUR - RONAN

  FIVE - ALEXIS

  SIX - RONAN

  SEVEN - ALEXIS

  EIGHT - RONAN

  NINE - ALEXIS

  TEN - RONAN

  ELEVEN - ALEXIS

  TWELVE - RONAN

  THIRTEEN - ALEXIS

  FOURTEEN - ALEXIS

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  THANK YOU

  ONE – ALEXIS

  How could something so beautiful be the bane of my existence?

  I’m talking about diamonds. Rocks. Candy. Glitter. I guess I could include emeralds. Rubies. Sapphires. Topaz too. Shiny, pretty, sparkly things. Rare little gems that most people would be so lucky to own.

  But mostly I’m talking about diamonds.

  Flawless.

  Colorless.

  VVS stones.

  Perfection designed by Mother Nature herself.

  It all began with working behind the counter at my grandmother’s pawnshop back home in the ATL.

  “Now, Alexis, this is a real diamond,” she said, handing me her loupe.

  Squinting my eyes, I peered through the magnifying lens and feasted upon a vision of a thousand tiny facets.

  “We’ll keep this locked up in a special place,” my grandmother said, nodding toward a padlocked display case behind her. Her brown eyes sparkled, accented by lines her old age had placed there over the years. “You and I are the only ones with the keys now. No one else but us.”

  Most days we got in things like old CD players, scratched up bicycles, out of tune guitars, and the occasional gently used Coach bag. It was rare to get in a diamond that wasn’t chopped into .10 sized pieces and stuffed into a dainty filigree ring or a heart-shaped, box store necklace.

  I watched as my grandmother walked off with the one-carat sparkler in the palm of her hand and locked it up in the bulletproof glass case by the cash register.

  I used my first paycheck to buy a jeweler kit, and over the course of that summer when I was only fifteen, I taught myself how to solder, patinize, scrutinize, and appraise. I memorized the qualities of more precious gemstones than most people knew existed. I watched the Home Shopping Network every night, getting ideas for new styles of jewelry that I’d sketch out on my notepad as I watched.

  By the time I graduated from high school, I had more knowledge about the jewelry industry than most eighteen year olds could acquire in their lifetimes, and I packed my bags and headed off to get IGA certified.

  Five years later, with my certification, jewelry making skills, and a business loan from my bank, I opened up TURNT UP JEWELS, which was a play on my last name: Turner.

  My designs were crazy, wild, unique, and completely off the chain. They could be worn at charity galas and nights out at the club. They were distinctly Alexis Turner.

  We were located in a quaint business district in my small little town just outside Atlanta, and we were featured in a couple local business magazines our first few months. Business was great. Business was booming. Musicians and rappers and actors came from miles away to shop my designs, which were funky, fresh, and classy.

  No one else could do what I did the way I did.

  My best friend, Monique, handled sales and I worked in the back doing paperwork by day and designing jewelry by night. I was putting in sixty to seventy hour weeks, but I loved every damn minute of it.

  “Hey, Lex,” Monique called from the front of the shop Monday morning. “What’s going on across the street?”

  I sat my soldering iron down and pulled my glasses off, rushing out front where Monique was making a pinched face toward the vacant store across the way. A tall, dark, and handsome stranger in a three-piece suit was talking to another man in khakis and a button down. They kept pointing to the vacant shop.

  And then they shook hands.

  “Guess we’re getting a neighbor,” I said with a shrug as my eyes feasted on his fine, muscular behind. I liked my lips and smiled. “Better go introduce myself.”

  “You and those white boys,” Monique laughed, rolling her eyes.

  “Guilty pleasure. Don’t judge me.” I playfully shoved her shoulder. “I don’t judge you and those south of the border hotties you always seem to find when we go out.”

  “They find me!” she argued. She twisted a strand of silky black hair around her finger and smiled as she batted her stormy gray eyes courtesy of the contact lenses she refused to take out. “I can’t help it that they think I’m all exotic and fine as hell.”

  I waited for the realtor to drive off before heading across the street toward the handsome stranger in the dark suit. His hair was a shiny shade of chestnut and a bit long. Some of it hung in his face and some was tucked behind one ear.

  “Good morning. Hi, there,” I called out as I strutted toward him with my hand extended. It was just good business practice to make friends with your business neighbors. Being a small business owner is tough. You have to network. You have to support each other. “I’m Alexis Turner. I own Turnt Up Jewels across the street.”

  He didn’t smile. Instead his emerald green eyes burned into mine as he studied my face. I could feel my smile melting off my face like honey on a hot day.

  “Ronan,” he said, extending his hand finally. “Ronan Pratt.”

  “You from around here?” I asked.

  “Not originally,” he said. “We’re headquartered in Manhattan, but I’m living here while we get our new store off the ground.”

  “Well if you ever need someone to show you around, I’m your g
irl.” I batted my long, dark eyelashes and threw him a flirty wink. My mama always said I had no shame when it came to turning on the charm.

  She was probably right.

  We stood in silence, and his stare began to weigh me down.

  “What kind of shop are you opening here?” I couldn’t help being nosy anymore than the sky could help being blue.

  “A jewelry store,” he said. “Pratt Diamonds.”

  My heart sunk like a stone, way down to the bottom of my shoes. My smile washed away like mud off a car in a rainstorm. A thickness settled in my chest as I crossed my arms. “You are aware there’s already a jewelry store on this street, right?”

  His green eyes flashed over my shoulder, eyeing my shop across the street. Cars zoomed by, honking, and a bus rumbled on leaving the faint scent of diesel in the air. We were on a quaint little street but it had plenty of traffic. Though I wasn’t sure we had enough traffic to support two jewelry stores.

  “This isn’t a shopping mall, mister…what’s your name again?” My brows furrowed, and I could feel my ugly face coming on.

  “Pratt. Ronan Pratt,” he said, standing tall. His thick shoulders practically bulged through his suit coat, threatening to rip the seams, and if I wasn’t so fired up I’d have been busy admiring them.

  “Isn’t Pratt Diamonds a chain?” I asked. “Why would you want to be out here on Willow Street? It’s a terrible location if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t pick the location,” he said calmly. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “And your job is to take down local mom and pop shops like mine?” I spit my words at him. “Do you realize that everything I’ve ever worked for in my entire life is going to vanish into thin air all because you’re moving in across the street? Do you understand that? No. Of course you don’t. You’ve got your corporate suit and your fancy haircut and your smug attitude and…”

  Nothing nice was leaving my mouth, and I thought about my grandmother’s words once upon a time. “If you can’t say anything nice, Alexis, don’t say anything at all…”

  “You know what? I’m going to stop right here. Because you’re not worth my time,” I said. “I’ve got a client list a mile long and no one designs pieces like mine. No one has the kind of turnaround I do on custom orders. My designs are a status symbol around here, and your cracker box pieces are just plain ordinary.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t mean to continue saying mean things, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Alexis, is it?” he said with an amused smirk on his smug yet deliciously handsome face. “I can assure you we will do just fine next to one another.”

  “You can assure that, can you? What happens if you’re wrong? What happens if I lose everything?” My eyes burned hot. In all of five minutes I’d gone from pouring on the charm to turning into a crazy-eyed alley cat with nails a mile long. And the messed up thing was I still wanted him to think I was sexy for some insane reason.

  I never said I had realistic expectations when it came to men. That was probably a big part of why I was still single at twenty-five.

  “I’m looking for an in-house designer,” he said. “I’d be happy to offer you the position. And I don’t mean later. I mean right now.”

  “Oh.” I looked him up and down, from the bottom of his shiny shoes to the top of his perfectly combed brown hair. “So you just want me to close up shop and come slap a Pratt Diamonds name tag across my shirt, do you? Is that your way of snuffing out the competition before you’ve even opened your doors?”

  Ronan smiled, and even through my heated temper I could see it was genuine. “Not at all. I’m honestly looking for a designer, and I’ve checked out your website. You have something no one else has, Alexis. You’ve managed to capture lightning in a bottle.”

  My hand flew to my chest and my fingers toyed with the gold and diamond pendant hanging between my cleavage. “You were checking up on me?”

  He smiled again. “Not like that. We were just researching the neighborhood, and I happened to come across your website.”

  “Look,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I was slightly flattered. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine where I am. There are plenty of good staffing agencies around here if you need sales associates.”

  “Executive creative director,” he said as I turned to walk away. “Vice president if you want. You would primarily function as my creative director. You’d supervise designers. Approve designs. You could still even design if you wanted to.”

  Something in his tone told me he knew more about me than he was letting on. I turned back to face him. “No thank you.”

  I sauntered back across the street toward my store, not wanting to talk to Ronan a second longer. I didn’t trust my mouth to say nice things, and I didn’t trust my eyes to stop checking him out.

  “What’s up with that whole thing?” Monique asked when I walked back in. A gush of cold, store air hit my face and I welcomed it hard. “I saw a bunch of hands flailing and arms crossing, girl.”

  “That asshole is opening up a jewelry store across the street. Pratt Diamonds.”

  “Isn’t that a chain?” Monique scrunched her nose.

  “Yep, complete with a slogan and everything. Polished, Pretty, Pratt.”

  Monique rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine, girl. Don’t sweat it. They can’t take your clients. It’s not like they make custom grillz and chains.”

  “But they could price cut me like nothing else,” I muttered as I headed back to my design lab. Monique didn’t know it, but we were one shitty sales week away from going belly under. I should’ve closed up shop month ago, when we were ahead enough that I could still walk away with most of my dignity in tact.

  I could just picture my grandmother shaking her head at me and saying, “Stubborn girl.”

  “Oh, hey,” Monique called back. “The landlord called. Wants you to call him back.”

  I shut my door and drew in a deep breath. Rent was two days late. One more day and he could evict me if he wanted. Guess I’d be eating ramen the rest of the week.

  TWO – RONAN

  My name was on the door. Shiny gold letters that spelled RONAN PRATT III. My name was both a gift and a curse. The grandson of billionaire diamond miner Ronan Pratt, senior, my entire existence was a carefully plotted map with designated stopping points.

  Schooled at West Point Military Academy.

  Finished my undergraduate degree from Yale.

  Masters degree in business from Harvard.

  A legacy to carry on, which burdened my shoulders and only mine.

  Never mind my younger brother, Royal, or my ten cousins scattered all over the country. It was mine and mine only. That’s what my grandfather wanted. My grandfather, my father, and myself were all firstborn Pratt men, so we were saddled with the legacy.

  I didn’t care about diamonds. I didn’t care about jewelry. I’d have much rather have toured the world with various charitable organizations, bringing clean water and vaccines to places where they had none. I could still remember the conversation I had with my grandfather when I was just nineteen and home from college on spring break.

  “How are your studies, young man?” he asked, a pipe sticking from the side of his mouth while he read the Wall Street Journal.

  “I’m actually pretty bored, grandfather,” I said. “I don’t think I’m cut out for business.”

  “Nonsense!” he said, the paper falling to his lap as his beady eyes glared across his desk and hooked into my soul. “You’ll study business and you’ll take over the company when you’re done with school. And that’s that.”

  He lifted the paper back up to his face, squinting to read the small print as a fog of smoke rose above his mouth.

  Grandfather had retired years ago when my father took over the company, but then my father passed away unexpectedly, forcing my grandfather to resentfully come out of retirement until I finished school.

  The thick diamonds that surrounded the large face of his
watch glinted against the morning sun and stung my eyes for a brief moment before throwing sparkles all over the room in the most magnificent pattern I’d ever seen.

  And then it was settled. I couldn’t change my situation, but I could change my attitude about the situation.

  I walked out of my grandfather’s study that day with a newfound appreciation for all things beautiful and flawless, whether they be fancy cars, gold and diamond jewels, or women. Abandoning my true self hurt a bit, and after a while I learned to numb the pain with money: gobs and gobs of money thrown at me all for being a Pratt.

  The morning after signing the paperwork on the new location, I headed into the new office in downtown Atlanta. We’d moved most of the people from corporate down south for a few months to help get the new location off the ground and open up a few more stores in the southeastern region.

  “Good morning, Mr. Pratt,” Jaclyn, my blonde haired, big breasted assistant said as she handed me a cup of coffee with a side of sexy eyes. She had a thing for me since the day I hired her, though it went against policy to ever get involved with my staff. She was pretty to look at, but that was about it. She had a desperate air about her that prevented her from getting my dick hard anyway.