Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,37

the morning without interruption, and at eleven-thirty her cell phone rang. It was Iris, wanting to meet for lunch at the food cart outside Cara’s office. After Cara promised not to be late, she hung up and dove back into the spreadsheet for another half hour, then finished up the report. She stood, then as she came around the side of her desk, she knocked her cell phone off. She bent over to grab it, and just to prove that the universe was conspiring against her or that fate just liked to fuck with her, Branden walked in while she was bent over.

“The view in here is much nicer than in my office,” he said.

She stood up quickly and smoothed down her skirt, as if he hadn’t seen everything she had to offer last night and then some.

Feeling herself blush she said, “I dropped my phone. What’s up?”

Looking amused, he said, “I came to take you to lunch.”

She felt a girlish rush of pleasure flow through her, then tamped it back down. She needed time to think. To process. To back away from the ecstasy that had been the night before and rationalize all that had happened. “I’m sorry, but I made other plans.”

He frowned. “Cancel them.”

Cara felt a tickle of annoyance in the pit of her stomach. That was a clear order. She’d enjoyed being taken hard last night, but what happens in bed should be different from what happens in the workplace. “I appreciate the offer to take me to lunch,” she said slowly, “but I don’t want to change my plans.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To lunch.”

He folded his arms. “You know what I mean.”

She folded hers, too, and said, “Yes, I do know what you mean. I’m just confused as to why it would be your business.” God, she sounded like a shrew, but keeping an upper hand felt important. Years ago, she’d watched as her father caved in front of public meetings. That would never be her.

“And I’m confused as to why it would be such a big mystery. Do you have a date?”

Wait—was Branden was jealous? The girlish warmth tickled her tummy again. Not what she needed right now. She struggled to hang on to her frustration, needing Branden to understand she would not be walked all over. “I’m meeting my friend Iris downstairs for a hot dog. See, no mystery. Now your turn.”

He shrugged. “Now that we’re not worried about people seeing us together, I just thought you’d be safer with me.”

She wasn’t certain she wanted to be seen out with him. Wasn’t anywhere near ready to take that step. But wait, what had Branden said about her safety? “Is someone threatening my safety?”

“No, not physically. But people will be less likely to make snarky comments to you if you’re with me.”

“You’re right. I doubt they’d even dare. But you can’t follow me around protecting me twenty-four-seven.”

“Why not?” he asked. He asked that a lot. She didn’t doubt he’d asked it thousands of time in his life—assuming that many people had actually had the balls to tell him he couldn’t do something.

“You just can’t. I have a life. I’ve been standing on my own two feet for quite some time now. I can handle it.”

He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe her, and she wondered if it was the statement that she had a life he doubted or the statement that she could handle things. Either thought riled her. She’d worked hard ever since her father’s unjust accusation, his subsequent death, and the collapse of her mother and ultimately her brother. Yes, she’d enjoyed being taken hard, against the wall, last night, but that didn’t mean she was some weak, fluttery woman batting her eyelashes at any man who offered to hold open a door for her.

She could open her own doors. She didn’t need Branden Duke to do it for her. “Iris is waiting for me,” she said firmly, jutting her chin in the air as she stalked out of the room.

He begrudgingly stepped away of the door, but just enough that it would be a tight fit when she passed. Controlling her? Or just wanting to touch her again? She wanted the latter but was afraid of the former. She turned her back to him and she could actually feel his breath on the back of her neck as she squeezed by. Didn’t matter—she had to make her own way. She couldn’t let a man—even Branden Duke—take control of her

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