Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,35
get out of here.”
“I haven’t done this since I was a kid, trying to sneak a girl out before my sisters saw her.”
“Your sisters? Not your mom?”
His face closed up, then he said, “Not sure my mom would have noticed. She was too busy finding my next stepfather. Currently she’s working on ex-husband number six. I have five sisters—two of them half-sisters, three stepsisters.”
“Five sisters?”
He cocked an eye at her. “What, I don’t seem like the kind of man who has sisters?”
She turned her head and scrutinized him. Maybe he did, at that. But wait—what was it he’d said? “A kid, huh?”
His expression smoothed out. “Well, a teenager. Surely you snuck boys in or vice versa in high school?”
“Um…no, I was a little too busy for such things.”
“Busy with what?” he asked. Thankfully, before she could figure out how to evade answering questions about her painful teenage years, the doorbell rang yet again. “Damn it, Alex, I’m coming!” He sighed as he cupped her face. Gently, he stroked a strand of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “We’ll talk later, Cara. Promise me.”
“We’ll talk later,” she said. “I promise.” She just wasn’t sure they’d ever have a repeat of the night before.
No matter how much her body craved it. How much her mind yearned to get to know him. How much her heart raced when mere thoughts of him crossed her mind.
Dropping his hand, he went out to answer the door. She heard another man’s voice say, “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, come in the kitchen. I need coffee.”
“What are you doing sleeping so late? Even in college you got up at dawn. Are you sick?”
Cara peeked through a crack in the bedroom door as the men headed for the kitchen. She was surprised when she saw Branden’s friend. He had on a short-sleeved, blue T-shirt and both of his arms were completely covered in colorful tattoos. He was wearing a NY Mets cap and a pair of faded blue jeans with holes in the knees. He was really nice looking from what she could see, and he had a body a lot of professional athletes would be jealous of. The perfect kind of guy for Iris.
He certainly didn’t look like the type of guy Branden would be friends with.
Of course, how much did she know about Branden Duke? Other than he was fabulously rich, incredible in bed, and seemingly a nice guy in spite of those two things.
In other words, he seemed too good to be true.
Which meant he probably was.
Branden heard the door snick closed behind Cara. Done distracting Alex, he set up the coffee to brew and then dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs. Alex was giving him a strange look.
“What?”
“Did you get drunk last night?”
“No,” Branden said.
“Laid?”
“What do you have for me?”
Alex had a manila envelope in his hand. “You got laid. You make me sick.”
“Shut up,” he said mildly. “You’re on the clock. What’s in the envelope?”
Alex gave him a dirty look but then suddenly turned all business. “I haven’t been able to find much on Greg Johnson. He seems to be one of those guys that are so plain and average you forget they’re even in the room. He graduated with two MBAs from Brown—finances and economics. He’s thirty-three, no kids, never married—”
“What about his finances?”
“So far they look squeaky clean. He makes a hell of a lot as a stockbroker.”
“So we don’t suspect he got mixed up with a loan shark or something like that?”
“Not that I could find,” Alex said.
“Then it probably didn’t happen.” Branden had absolute faith in Alex’s abilities. “Keep looking, though. Look more recent.”
“Sure, man, I’ll look into it all.”
“What’s in the envelope?” Branden finally asked.
Alex held it out to him. “Lee sent it. It’s the investigation he was doing for you.”
Branden took the envelope. “Thanks. I think the coffee’s ready. You want a cup?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Alex said. “I need to get home and change before I go into the office.”
“Ralph Lauren?” Branden asked.
“Patrick James,” Alex said with a grin. “Your sister’s been a big help. Steered me clear of Tommy Bahama. Said it was too casual for the top floor.”
“Got something there you want to tell me?”
“Don’t wear a palm tree print to the office. Gotta go.” With that, Alex slapped his hand on the table, stood, and took off, dashing a wave over his shoulder as he exited the kitchen.
Damn the man. Branden thought the world of Alex, but hey—this was