Owned: An Alpha Anthology (7 page)

"You wouldn’t know the meaning of fucking loyalty," Van spits at Lennon.

"She told me you two were over. How the fuck was I to know she was lying?"

"It’s called friendship, motherfucker. We were friends, and you don’t do that to a friend. You don’t fuck his fiancée behind his fucking back."

"Do you fucking listen, Van? I didn’t know you were still together."

"Yeah, well, it’s not good enough. You should have asked me, not her. She wasn’t your fucking friend,
I
was."

Jett steps in to try and break them apart because they look like they’re at the point where fists could start flying any minute. "Van, leave it. He’s not fucking worth it."

Van’s eyes are wild when he looks at Jett. "I told you coming tonight was a bad fucking idea."

Jett directs his attention to Lennon. "You need to leave. Now."

Lennon shifts his gaze and stops when he sees me. "Presley? What the hell are you doing here?"

Jett swings around to look between Lennon and me. "You know this asshole?" he demands.

"Yes."

Before I can explain myself further, Lennon says, "She’s my wife, asshole. Get your fucking eyes off her."

Jett looks like he’s about to explode with anger. "What the fuck?" he roars at no one in particular, and I’m not sure if he’s directing that at Lennon or me.

Shit, this is a clusterfuck
.

"I
was
your wife," I correct Lennon.

"You still are," Lennon says.

"On paper only. Give me six months, and I’ll rectify that."

Jett interrupts us. Looking at Lennon, he says, "Like I said, you need to fucking leave."

I nod in agreement and Lennon assesses the situation for a moment before finally doing what Jett suggested.

Van glares at him until he can’t see him anymore and then he says, "Fuck it, Jett, I’m out. Sorry man, but I can’t be in the same room as him or I will fucking punch him, and that’s the last thing we need." His face is a mask of anger and apology.

Jett nods. "Yeah, you’re right. You should go."

Van doesn’t wait around and a moment later he’s gone, and I’m left with Jett staring at me. He’s still angry but there’s a calmness to it now. "You’re married to Lennon?" He’s incredulous and I don’t blame him. I haven’t mentioned my marriage at all.

"Yes."

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"We split up six months ago, and I’m done with him. I’m just waiting for the year to be up so I can file for divorce. I don’t consider myself married anymore."

His chest heaves and he seems relieved with that answer. "Thank fuck."

I move to where he is and lay a hand on his chest. "I promise there’s nothing left there," I say softly.

He grabs my waist and pulls me into his space. "I believe you, sweetheart. I’m more surprised by the fact I’ve known Lennon for years but I’ve not once met you. I knew he was married but never knew who to. How the fuck did you guys work it that way? If you were my wife, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight."

"He didn’t want me on tour with him and because I was busy with my work, he had no trouble selling that to me. It hurt, though." My voice cracks on my last few words, and Jett wraps me in his arms.

"Fuck," he mutters. "He’s an asshole, baby. You’re better off without him."

"I know," I mumble into his body. "But he’s told me he’ll do anything to get me back, and when Lennon wants something, he’ll do anything to get it."

Jett lets me go enough to look down into my eyes. There’s a fierce determination in his. "So will I, Presley, and I want you. If Lennon thinks he can come back and pick up where he left off, he can fucking think again. You’re mine now, not his."

Keep An Eye Out For All Your Reasons #2 Coming Soon

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ABOUT NINA LEVINE

Nina Levine is an Aussie writer who writes stories about hot, alpha men and the tough, independent women they love.

When she isn’t creating with words, she loves to create with paint and paper. Often though, she can be found curled up with a good book and some chocolate.

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Storm MC Series

In Order:

Storm (Storm MC #1)

Fierce (Storm MC #2)

Blaze (Storm MC #2.5)

Revive (Storm MC #3)

Havoc Series

Destined Havoc (Havoc #1)

Coming Soon

Slay (Storm MC #4) – 21
st
November 2014

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to thank the authors I worked with on the Owned Anthology that All Your Reasons was written for. It’s been an amazing journey so far and I can’t wait for the anthology to release. Jani Kay, thanks for being you and suggesting this idea in the first place. Without you, this wouldn’t even be happening. I’ve loved working with all the authors on this anthology but I do need to give a shout out to Lyra for doing the formatting – you rock!! And Lilliana for all your time designing the website and graphics….sometimes more than once! Nothing was ever a trouble for either of you ladies and I am so very thankful for the time you put in.

To my beta readers – Melanie, Christina, Paula, Amanda & Becca – thank you so much ladies! Your feedback was invaluable and I truly appreciate the time you gave me to do it.

To Jenny at Editing 4 Indies. Wow, this is the first time we’ve worked together and I need to say a HUGE thank you for doing it at the last minute for me. You made the process so easy and I am very thankful.

To my friends and family… thank you for being patient with me while I have ignored you to get this book done. I love you.

To my PA and friend, Melanie Sassymum, thank you for everything you do for me. You help keep me sane in the madness of it all, babe. I love you for it all.

To my Stormchasers. I hope you love Jett as much as you love our bikers! He doesn’t have the asshole in him that they do but I kinda love that about him. Thank you for all your support, encouragement and most importantly, your friendship. I would be lost without you, ladies!

To Louisa, my gorgeous cover designer, you always make the process so easy and come up with the perfect cover pretty much first go every time. I love working with you and am so thankful to have you as my designer.

To bloggers, thank you so very much for everything you do to help me. You ladies have hearts of gold!

To my readers! Thank you for reading my books and I hope you loved Jett as much as I do.

LOVE ON WALL STREET SERIES

DEBONAIR: Part 1

Jani Kay

Copyright 2014 JANI KAY

All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover Artist: Louisa Maggio

Edited by: Lauren McKellar

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes, copied, or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied for reviews.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

WARNING:

Adult content: Sexual Situations & Language

Recommended 18 +

DEDICATION

To Andrea — my own Little Miss Sunshine.

Thank you for inspiring me, for believing in me and for always trusting in me.

You never fail to make me smile and feel good about life. When I count my blessings, I count you twice if not more. You are the best daughter any mother could wish for.

Follow your dreams, believe in yourself and never settle for less.

I love you to the moon and back.

Always.

DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY

1 - Tyler

Chase Spencer sauntered into my impressive new office to give his nod of approval. He whistled as he ran a hand over the back of the new furniture that had only arrived that morning. "Fuck, you’ve gone all out this time, Sinclair. Red leather?"

"Only the best will do, old chap." I mocked, pleased that my eclectic taste impressed him.

Spencer, my supposed best friend—in reality my prime rival—five years my senior at the firm and the occupant of the other corner office, knew me better than anyone else. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

He opened the drawer of the side table closest to the sofa and inspected the contents.

"Even new toys." Spencer marveled as he ran the soft leather strings of the flogger through his fingers then smacked it against the leather armrest. He quirked an eyebrow. "Anyone in mind?" He examined the rest of the items in the drawer, then shifted his gaze to mine waiting for an answer.

I chuckled softly. I was a man who liked new things—old bored me. I worked hard and I played even harder. I took my rewards without apology.

"Yeah. The redhead. Ms. Oaks has a banging body." I grinned, imagining her bent over the couch.

Spencer grinned. "Mind if I join you? I’ve wanted to smack that ass since I first laid eyes on her."

"You mean you haven’t yet?" I narrowed my eyes as I studied him, then nodded. "Sure. I’ll give you a call when I have her set up."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Good. I’ll be waiting. It’s been a while."

"It’ll be soon." I smiled as visions of the possibilities ran through my mind.

Chase and I had done a few threesomes before. It added to the smorgasbord of delights to be had. Even though I’d only met her two days ago, the redhead seemed capable of handling the pair of us. The luxurious office was designed for work and fun, and I looked forward to begin this new chapter of my life as an executive.

"Congrats on making it to the top floor." He sounded sincere although he didn’t extend his arm to shake my hand.

I nodded, a wry smile twisting the corners of my lips. "Thanks. Wasn’t always easy."
That’s a fucking understatement.

For eleven years I’d slogged my ass off at McAdams & Williams Investments, the best brokerage firm on Wall Street, working ridiculous hours so I could climb the ladder rapidly.

This was it. Spencer and I were in the final leg of the race—both of us gunning to make partner now that McAdams had died. I frowned. Chase’s Ivy League education and tenure placed him in the lead, but that wasn’t going to stop me. Hell no. If anything it spurred me on to work harder to reach my dream.

It took guts and determination, tenacity and balls, and a generous dollop of wile and cunning mixed with ingenuity. All the ingredients I’d cultivated over the years, learning from the best of the best in the industry. I deserved every square inch of the plush office overlooking the Hudson River I’d moved into the day before.

To say I’d done it by hard work alone would be a lie. I’d used every trick in my arsenal to make my goal of ascending from junior to top management a reality. Some tactics used were less than honorable, but I did what I had to in order to taste success. Nothing and no-one would stand in my way of becoming the youngest partner this firm had seen in fifty years.

Spencer adjusted his tie. "Drinks in my office at six. We’ll celebrate with a century old bottle of whiskey while we plot our futures together."

I rounded my desk and patted him on the shoulder while subtly walking him toward the door. "Make it seven and I’m there. I have a lot of shit to sort out first."

"You work too hard, Sinclair. You need to make more time to enjoy your success."
Yeah, I’m sure you’d love for me to slack off so you can beat me to the post. Like hell, buddy.

Straightening my back, I was tempted to push him out the door. Instead I simply smiled and said, "I plan to. Wait till you see my new baby."

"You bought a new car? Fuck Sinclair, you aren’t holding back, are you?" His eyes narrowed as he appraised me.

I laughed. "Why should I? I'm right on track with my five year plan. Next is making partner. Watch out, Spencer. You’d better pick up your game if you want to beat me to it."

"Nice try, Sinclair. You know old man Williams loves me."

Yes, but his wife and daughter like
me
.

Rubbing his hands together, he said, "If anyone makes partner this year, it’ll be me."

I wanted to punch the self assured smirk right off his face. Glaring daggers at his back as he walked away, I cursed under my breath and closed the door.

The room pressed in on me, making it harder to breathe. How in hell did I get stuck behind a desk swamped with paper, with a truckload of phone calls to make? This was the price to pay, and I missed the days of being on the floor where the action was, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Since the first day I’d started working on Wall Street as a junior, I’d wanted a corner office in the ivory tower. Exhaling a long breath, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river and Brooklyn Bridge and took in the spectacular views.

Is this enough?
Somewhere inside, a gnawing emptiness ate at me.

"Ms. Oaks, I'm going out for lunch. Hold my calls," I barked into the phone as I grabbed my jacket off the hook.
I need fresh air.
 

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair."

Over the years I’d made a lot of people rich, including myself. Tenacity and balls of steel had gotten me here. Rarely did I leave my desk except to take a piss or a meeting, but I had to get out. When last had I felt the sun on my skin or the wind in my hair? I arrived at the office in darkness and
if
I went home, it'd be after the sun had set. My tan was totally fake, because well . . . who had time to lie baking in the sun?

Everything I needed was right here. The fully-equipped gym one floor down saw me first thing in the mornings, where I did a full one-hour workout, plus five minutes under the UV lights, maintaining a healthy and fit body six days a week. It gave me the stamina to power through grueling fourteen-hour days with energy to spare, and a definite edge over my lazy co-workers who preferred to sleep those extra sixty minutes.

A joining private bathroom that led from my office afforded me the luxury of freshening up whenever I needed to, and I kept several spare changes of clothes in a purpose built cupboard in case I needed to go somewhere directly from the office.

The leather couches served a dual purpose: a place to sleep, and a place to fuck. Usually, I had women come straight to the office—it saved time and plenty of hassles. I’d fucked on every conceivable space in my old office, and I was eager to break this one in. The sooner the better. My balls hadn’t been emptied for thirteen days and counting—it made me cranky. Ms. Oaks would be the lucky first Executive Personal Assistant to get a taste of my special brand of fucking.

My reputation had preceded me; women in the firm talked about my unusual preferences and voracious sexual appetite, and were eager to be included on my list, slipping their phone number or address to me. Sometimes they’d leave a key in an envelope on my desk, and even the redhead had given me
the look
since I moved to this floor two days ago.

Yep. Everything was perfect. Exactly the way I liked it. Efficient and effective. Running smoothly, like a well-oiled machine.

Then why couldn’t I shake the restlessness that had come over me?

I picked up the birthday card on my desk. Today was my twenty-ninth birthday, yet the only person who bothered to send me a special message every year was Sister Tessa, who ran the boys’ home I’d spent a part of my childhood in. I smiled wryly. Was it because she truly cared about me as a person, or because of the huge donation I made annually to the charitable institution she ran? Without my support, St. Theresa’s Boys’ Home would’ve closed years ago. The place wasn’t much, but it was a hell of a lot better than some of the other options left to orphaned or troubled youngsters.

Opening the desk drawer, I shoved the card in and closed it.
I hate birthdays
.

I closed the office door behind me and glared at the fifty-something-year-old woman sitting behind the desk in the reception area. Where the hell was the sexy redhead? "Get Ms. Oaks back here by the time I return." The older woman’s mouth formed an
O
as she registered my disapproval, and she nodded as she lowered her eyes.

Thrumming my fingers on my bicep, I waited for the elevator to arrive. The muscles in my neck were bunched up and I would kill for a Chinese massage. The doors opened and I stepped inside, keen to get out of the building. I rode the car down for several floors before it stopped and two young interns stepped in, blabbering excitedly about their dates the previous evening while peering at me from under their lashes. The tall blonde blushed when I smiled and winked at her, yet she kept her gaze on me. She had a cute smile and huge breasts, but she was far too young for me. I liked my women experienced. I wasn’t into breaking in virginal types.

"Ladies," I greeted as I waited for them to get out on the ground floor. I headed toward the revolving doors and made my escape to smog-filled New York air. I blinked at the bright sunlight, and cursed under my breath that I’d forgotten my sunglasses, left in my car.

Taking a left turn, I walked down Wall Street toward the park. The aroma of hotdogs filled my nostrils and I queued at the street vendor’s cart, salivating as I waited my turn. I never ate junk food, and I’d not bought food from street vendors since I started working as a stockbroker at one of the most prestigious firms in the world.

But today, a strange nostalgia had hit me, and I longed for the simple things that once were a luxury. I knew why. Besides being my birthday, it was also the anniversary of the day my mother had left my old man and me. That was twenty-two years ago, but it still messed with my fucking head as if it happened yesterday.