Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,3

and costly ambition.

“Will you excuse me, Jackson,” she said, interrupting the young trader mid-sentence. “I just remembered an important call I have to make.” Not waiting for his response, Cara immediately headed to the grand foyer that adjoined the living room, thinking she’d step out onto the front porch, but the entryway was packed with people.

So much for fresh air.

Abruptly, she changed direction and headed up the mahogany staircase that rose in a classic curve. As she reached the landing, the incoherent chatter behind her died down, as if someone important had just arrived. Whomever it might be didn’t matter—she didn’t pause, didn’t look back, and instead moved even faster, practically running, until she finally turned a corner and made it to the next floor, which was dimly lit, quiet, and most importantly, unoccupied.

Most of the doors in the long hallway were closed, but the door to the nearest room was open. She peered inside to see an impersonal but serene space dominated by a long, angular black leather sofa outlined with bronze studs. A low glass table stood in front of the sofa. A white cashmere throw, tossed over one well-padded arm with meticulous casualness, seemed to have been left there for anyone.

Cautiously, she stepped inside. The thick charcoal-colored rug beneath the minimal furniture muffled her footsteps. She decisively closed the door behind her then immediately headed to the sofa and sat down.

God, she was exhausted. She could barely think straight and the beginning of yet another headache tugged at her. She took a quick glance at the closed door, then impulsively kicked off her high heels then swung her legs up to lie down.

She’d rest for just a few seconds before heading back downstairs. Maybe she wouldn’t even stay. Maybe she’d just call an Uber and leave.

The enveloping silence of the room enfolded her, and a sense of contentment and safety washed over her. She surrendered herself to the calm. Took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Then blinked them open when she felt something soft settle over her.

Abruptly, she sat up. She was slightly disoriented and realized with horror that she’d actually fallen asleep.

She looked down at the cashmere throw that now covered her. It was soft. And it smelled good. Clean. Spicy. Sensual.

How long had she been out? And who had—

When she saw the man standing across from her, she knew without a doubt it was his scent she was enjoying.

He was well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a lean, athletic build, wearing a suit that even her drowsy mind registered as expensive and definitely custom made. His hair was quite dark, maybe black. It was hard to tell in the shadowy room. But it looked mussed in contrast to the rest of his appearance.

His strong jaw had a tense set, but enough moonlight filtered through the windows for her to guess what he looked like when and if he smiled. There were faint lines on either side of a mouth that had a sensual fullness. His lips tightened for a fraction of a second as he looked back at her, his expression somehow radiating both sensuality and displeasure.

Was he the party host—D&M’s mystery client? If so, of course he was displeased. She’d rudely intruded into his private space. An automatic apology hovered on her lips, but when a corner of his mouth flickered upward and his expression lightened, the words froze in her throat. A flush of heat spread through her core. Her stomach quivered and she swallowed against a dry mouth. A racing heartbeat had her parting her lips to breathe.

All she could do was stare at him, transfixed, and sternly tell herself that no, she couldn’t stand, grab his face, and pull him down for a kiss to see if he tasted as good as he smelled. Or could she?

What was it she’d told Iris?

Got it. Reach out. Hot sex. If the opportunity comes along, I won’t let it go to waste.

Promise?

Promise.

Chapter 2

As seconds stretched together and Cara replayed her promise to Iris over in her mind, the man’s gaze focused on her mouth. He looked as if he wanted to take her. Right here. Right now. Any way she wanted to be taken.

And she couldn’t deny it—one heated glance and mere seconds in his presence, and that was exactly what she wanted. Hell, she yearned for him to show her ways to be taken she’d barely even heard of.

She gave her head a quick shake. Time to gain control, Cara.

The