FLAWLESS (A BWWM Alpha Billionaire Romance) Page 2

  “Thank you, Jaclyn,” I said, heading into my office and shutting the door.

  I pulled up my email and made a few phone calls, until suddenly she popped into my head. The girl from Turnt Up Jewels. Alexis. I smirked and smiled, thinking about how she let me have it. No one who knew me ever spoke to me that way, and in a weird way, it turned me on like crazy. My lips pulled up at the corner as I imagined how she might be in bed. Wild. Uninhibited. Free.

  And then I wiped that smile right off my face.

  I couldn’t destroy her business and think about bedding her all at the same time. I might have been many things, but I wasn’t a complete asshole.

  “Mr. Pratt,” Jaclyn buzzed my phone. “You have a visitor. Shall I send her in?”

  “Who is it?”

  “Her name is Alexis, sir,” Jaclyn said.

  “Yes, send her in.” I pulled in a tight breath and pushed my shoulders back, waiting for her to burst in my door and give me another what-for. I stifled my chuckle and sat back patiently.

  The door flung open a few seconds later and in walked Alexis Turner. In tight leggings and a shimmery cream tank top that showed off two round globes beneath her shirt, she crossed her arms, shoving her cleavage up further.

  “Ronan,” she said, squaring her dark eyes into mine. Her head cocked to the side and her lips pinched together.

  “Alexis.” I stood up and motioned for her to take a seat across from me. “How are we on this beautiful Tuesday morning?”

  She threw herself down into my guest chair and flung her big leather bag across her lap, unzipping it and pulling out a small stack of paper. “I did some research last night.” She splayed the papers across my desk. “These are other available retail spaces that might suit your store a little better than Willow Street.”

  I raked my hand across my jaw, disguising my amused and surprised smirk. “You stay up all night doing this?”

  She ignored my question. “Willow Street is a quaint shopping district. We don’t have chains. People come to my street because they can find the sort of shopping experience they won’t get at the mall. Your store, Mr. Pratt, belongs in a shopping mall, and there are plenty of those in the Atlanta area.”

  “Alexis,” I said, crossing my arms. “I appreciate your efforts here, but Pratt Diamonds is going through a bit of a rebranding process right now. We want to be on Willow Street. And besides, the lease has been signed. It’s too late.”

  “It’s not too late,” she said, glancing up into my eyes. Her face fell a bit, but her determination didn’t. “You have money. You can get out of your lease. I know how those things work.”

  “Alexis, I’m sorry,” I said, my apology genuine. “I truly am. This is just the way it has to be.”

  She stood up, leaving the mess of papers all over my desk, and threw her bag across her smooth, caramel shoulder. Her dark hair shined with a whole mess of oiled ringlets that framed her pretty face. Beautiful, ambitious, and intelligent was a flawless combination that made my mind think all sorts of naughty thoughts at all the wrong times.

  “Look,” I said, clasping my hands together. “I’m going to make you an offer one more time. Vice President of my Creative division. Lead designer. I’ll put you up in a big old office back in Manhattan. You’ll be in charge of everything. We can even create a limited edition line with your name on it, so all your old clients can still purchase your designs.”

  “Again,” she said with an angry smile. “You just want to swoop in, shut me down and take my clients? I don’t think so, Mr. Pratt.”

  “$150,000,” I said. “That would be your annual salary. Plus bonuses if sales exceed our goals.”

  Her jaw hung slightly before she promptly closed her full lips and pursed them into a straight line.

  “How much do you bring in right now, Ms. Turner? Thirty maybe forty grand a year after expenses? Owning a small business is a thankless job with long hours and crappy pay. You’d have it so good with me, Alexis. Think about it. Forty hour weeks making triple or quadruple what you make now. No stress. Just show up for work and design your heart out all day long.”

  I walked slowly from around my desk until my body was inches from being pressed up against hers. She smelled like coconut and flowers, like a tropical vacation, and I felt her breathe me in as we stood locked in our places.

  “It’s a pretty sweet pot if you ask me,” I continued. I reached for a soft tendril of curled hair beside her cheek and brushed it aside. “You’d be happy here, Alexis. I know you hate that fact, but you and I both know it’s true. I could make you happy. I could make your dreams come true.”

  She pulled in a sharp breath.

  “Professionally speaking of course,” I added before releasing her dark curl and walking away. “Think about it and let me know by the end of the week.”

  She turned on her heels and left my office, saying nothing. And I watched by my office window, waiting for her to walk out of the building and climb into her car. A few minutes later, she pulled out of the parking lot in a rusting, vintage VW Jetta and drove away.

  THREE – ALEXIS

  Damn him.

  Damn him and his too-good-to-be-true offer.

  Damn his full lips and deep dimples.

  Damn his fancy suit and slick hair.

  Damn the way he melts my resolve like rain on chalk.

  Damn how fine the man smells.

  I stopped at home to pick up my breakfast. Money was tight that week, and it meant no Starbucks run for me. I grabbed the mail on the way up to my apartment. Nothing but a stack of bills and late notices. I threw them all down on the counter the second I stepped inside and grabbed a banana that was a day or so from going bad and a peach yogurt from the ‘fridge.

  $150,000 was a lot of money.

  Like…a lot a lot.

  Even if Turnt Up Jewels did amazing, I’d probably never make that kind of money. My overhead was too high and it was just me and Monique. It would take years before I’d ever have enough money to hire more staff and open new locations, and even then I’d be lucky to see that kind of income.

  And this man, this Ronan Pratt, was willing to hire me on and dump all that money in my lap.

  And working forty hours a week would be nice. I could live with that. I could design all day and walk away when the clock hit five.

  I imagined what my grandmother would say if she were still alive. She was the strongest woman I’d ever known, and she’d probably roll in her grave if she knew I was going to hand everything I’d ever worked for over to a rich, white bastard.

  My fingers tore open the first bill on my counter. A credit card bill. $404 was due in three weeks. That was going to be late. I never could get ahead with that one.

  I tore open the next bill from the power company. $230. In trying to save money, I’d picked a cheap old apartment building, and in doing that, I’d neglected to consider how inefficient it would be.

  I sighed and tore open another, and another. They piled up quicker than I could keep up with them.

  It was barely the middle of the morning and my feet were already aching in my shoes. I’d had those heels for years, and I’d worn them so much the padding in the bottom was wrinkled and ripped. I couldn’t even afford to take them to a cobbler for repairs.

  I finished my breakfast and shoved my bills in a neat stack to the side. They may have been out of sight, but they were never out of mind. Heading to the shop, I smiled the second I saw Monique. She tended to make me forget about most of life’s bullshit most days.

  And then I thought about her. I couldn’t leave her jobless like that. She’d been my best friend since we were kids, and I’d never do anything like that to her.

  “What’s up boss lady?” she joked as I sat my purse back in my office. She sipped on a delicious-looking mocha Frappuccino, and the fact that I couldn’t even afford something like that stung me in the center of my chest. “Girl, look at those dark circles. You didn’t sleep last night?”

 
; “No,” I sighed. “Not at all.”

  “You worried about that new store across the street?” She scrunched her eyes and peered across the road. “Looks like they’ve got some construction people in there, moving shit around and painting or some shit like that.”

  “I went to see Mr. Pratt this morning. I tried to talk him out of this,” I said. “But it was pointless. They’re definitely moving in. And it’s only a matter of time before they push us out.”

  Monique stopped slurping her drink and locked eyes with me. “So we’re going to be jobless.”

  I rubbed my lips together and nodded slowly.

  “He can’t just do that!”

  “He can. And he is.”

  “That arrogant son of a bitch.”

  “That’s putting it nicely.”

  Monique’s breathing grew huffy and labored and her nostrils flared. “I’m calling my brothers.”

  “Monique, don’t do that.”

  “Antoine and Marcus could fuck him up.”

  “Monique.” I crossed my arms. She always went into street mode whenever she felt threatened. “We’re going to be fine.”

  “Says you,” she said, her eyes averted. “You could sell all your inventory and cash out and walk away with a big fat check.”

  “Not really. Most of my inventory was purchased on credit,” I admitted. “I’d have to pay back my creditors, pay off the rest of my lease…and then hope that I can cover enough not to have to file bankruptcy.”

  “Shit, girl.” Monique’s face softened a bit. “I didn’t realize you were in it so bad.”

  “It’s not easy owning your own business.” My eyes burned with firewater. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

  I neglected to mention that I also owed a small fortune to my parents, who’d borrowed against their 401k to help me fund my education and earliest business expenses.

  Monique whipped out a calculator and began rapidly adding up a bunch of numbers. “Girl, I can’t live off unemployment.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, hanging my head and rubbing my temples. “Look…”

  Monique raised her eyebrows, shoving the calculator aside.

  “Ronan offered me a job,” I said. “I’m thinking of taking it. At this point, I can pretty much demand whatever I want. What if I demand he hires you too?”

  “I ain’t working for no arrogant asshole.” Monique whipped her long weave over her shoulder and puffed out her lips. “No thank you, Miss Girl. You think I’m working for Pratt Diamonds, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “It’s a job, Monique.”

  “You do what you need to do, Alexis,” she said. “I’ve got Hector to float me for a bit.”

  Hector was her latest flavor of the month, a Puerto Rican rico suave who owned his own concrete company and drove around in a brand new, fully paid for Escalade.

  The truth was, I didn’t want to work for Ronan anymore than Monique did, but Monique was lucky. She had options. I had no one.

  I headed back to my office and shut the door, firing up the computer and taking a good, hard look at what it was going to take to literally close up shop.

  “I’m sorry grandmother,” I whispered as my eyes scanned the numbers that added up to a crazy amount. I took stock of my inventory. If I closed up shop that week and sold out, I could make just enough to break even. I’d only be walking away with a bruised ego and a sense of failure, but the nice, new salary at Pratt Diamonds would soften that blow.

  It was going to take everything I had to swallow my pride and accept that job, but what choice did I have?

  FOUR – RONAN

  “How are we doing here, boys?” I asked as I wandered into the new store on Willow Street. I grabbed a mask and covered my face as men taped and painted drywall and applied masonry to the entry area. “Looking good.”

  I took a tour of the new store, making sure every nook and cranny was just the way we’d specified, and headed back outside for a lungful of fresh air not coated in tiny dust and paint particles.

  Across the way, my gaze fixed on Turnt Up Jewels and the flashing neon “open” sign hanging in the window. It was practically an open invitation, and I’d been meaning to see some of her work in person. I truly did admire it, contrary to what she probably thought was a lie on my part.

  “Good morning, welcome to Tur-,” the woman behind the counter said before her words trailed. Her smile faded and she stood up straight, giving me the evil eye.

  “Morning,” I said, stepping up to her counter. “Alexis in yet?”

  Her eyes washed over me from head to toe and back as she crossed her arms. “Maybe.”

  I smiled. I’d have asked to see her, but judging by her raven-haired guard dog, I wasn’t sure I’d have been allowed. “Mind if I take a look around?”

  “You going to buy something?” she huffed.

  “Probably.”

  I walked the length of the small store, glancing at all the designs, which ranged from classy and unique to funky and absurd. In all my years of working in the jewelry industry, I’d never come across anything like Alexis’ designs.

  “I’d like to buy everything you have,” I announced after inspecting a case of diamond-frosted watches.

  “Excuse me?” Monique said with her jaw hanging slightly. “Everything?”

  “Everything,” I proclaimed. I strutted back up to her counter and slapped my card down on the glass. “Ring up a receipt and give me a call when everything’s ready. I’ll send my security guard here this afternoon to make the payment and pick up my order.”

  Monique stared at me, frozen, and I felt her eyes burn into my back as I left the shop. I thought about asking her to tell Alexis I’d stopped by, but after buying out her entire store, I figured it kind of went without saying.

  ***

  “Mr. Pratt, you have a call on line four,” Jaclyn said later that afternoon.

  I picked up the line. “This is Ronan.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I’d recognize the voice from anywhere.

  “Alexis,” I said, leaning back in my leather chair. “I take it you’re calling to personally let me know that my order is ready for pick up?”

  “Ronan,” she sighed. “You’re crazy. You’re certifiably insane. What are you doing?”

  “I’m making the decision easy for you.” My lips pulled up at the corner, the way they always did when I knew I was moments away from getting what I wanted.

  Silence met me from the other end.

  “What are you going to do with all my inventory?”

  “That should be the least of your concerns right now, Alexis.” I cleared my throat. “So when can you start?”

  FIVE – ALEXIS

  “Yes, Mr. Graystone,” I said, one hand gripping the steering wheel as my landlord’s voice chirped from the speaker of my cell phone. “I turned the keys in yesterday…I know that…I understand…I will pay the difference…yes…there will be no need to take me to small claims court…I will have the money…”

  He rattled on and on, as if he wanted to make damn sure I knew I wasn’t getting out of my lease that easily. I was going to owe about six months’ worth of rent to him, but with my new salary at Pratt Diamonds, it was going to be a drop in the bucket.

  I hung up with Mr. Graystone and pulled into a parking spot in front of Pratt Diamond’s temporary corporate headquarters in downtown Atlanta. It had been just a mere three days since I’d accepted the job from Ronan, and in three days I had closed up shop, arranged to pay off my creditors thanks to the money I’d received when he purchased my inventory, and tied up as many loose ends as I could.

  “Good morning,” I said to the blonde secretary as I stepped into the office that day. “I’m Alexis. I-”

  “Yes,” she said. Her mouth twisted into a smile but her eyes were far from happy as she sized me up. The coolness from her end made me wonder what all Ronan had said about me. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  She pick
ed up her phone and dialed Ronan, mumbled something into the receiver, and hung up.

  “He’ll be out in a moment to show you to your office. He wanted to personally give you a tour,” she said, her words flavored with a hint of resentment. “Mr. Pratt never does that. You should consider yourself lucky.”

  Ah, so that’s what it was. Jealousy.

  I offered a polite smile in return and took a seat, remembering when my grandmother had once told me that that most people who treated me unkindly were just jealous of me for some reason or another and that I should pay them no mind.

  Grabbing a Pratt catalog off a nearby table, I flipped through the glossy pages. The designs, in my opinion, were dull and lackluster. Very commercial. Meant to cater to the men of middle America who picked out mass-marketed, sale priced jewelry for their wives, mothers and daughters for special occasions.

  “Ugh,” I sighed, slapping the magazine back on the table. As vice president of the creative division, I was going to have a whole lot of work to do.