Monroe: The Dynastic Collection: An Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Cynthia Dane

  She relaxed against his shoulder, fingers tickling the hairs at the bottom of his abdomen. So soft. So masculine. She loved that his body could be both tender and powerful. Comforting her? Easily done. Fucking her until she appreciated every ounce of his virility? Done!

  Alice was awake now. Awake and lightly stroking the top of his cock beneath his pants.

  He woke up quickly. Good to know this is the perfect alarm clock. Alice greeted him with a warm smile. “Good morning, husband,” she said with a sultry voice. “Did you sleep well?”

  Monroe sat up far enough to look through sleepy eyes at what she was doing. “Woke up even better.” He leaned back again with a happy groan. “Do you intend to keep teasing me, or are you going to give me what I need?” His fingers met her face. “Goes both ways, my dear.”

  Indeed it did. From the moment her hand wrapped around his shaft and her mouth swallowed the head of his cock, her husband’s fingers were searching beneath her nightgown for her slickness. She probably put more effort into this wake-up call, but Alice hadn’t expected any reciprocation to begin with. From the moment she decided to start the day off pleasuring him, Alice only had a mind for hearing him groan and feeling him come in the back of her throat. Don’t get to do this lately. Life’s simple pleasures for her were some of the greatest for him.

  Even so, Alice was perfectly okay with having an orgasm to start her own day off with.

  “Now that’s how a man wakes up around here,” Monroe muttered, watching his wife climax on his fingers as she remained hovered over his softening cock. “Come here.” He snatched her by the hips and brought her up for a kiss. Alice was coming when his tongue punched into her mouth.

  Alice made them breakfast. Pancakes and fruit. She stopped halfway through flipping one of the pancakes while her husband wandered around the living room half naked. I have never cooked for him before! This realization suddenly made her self-conscious. She also couldn’t keep the thought to herself.

  “Oh?” Monroe called from the living room. He had the Sunday paper in his hand. “I thought you didn’t like cooking.”

  Alice wasn’t in love with cooking, but she didn’t hate it either. Shit! A pancake almost burned while she was lost in thought.

  After breakfast – which Monroe declared to be “divine,” – they dressed in the most casual clothes they could muster for a day out together.

  Casual for Alice meant a flirtatious pink skirt and a loose white blouse. Her husband, on the other hand, couldn’t be trifled with the few pairs of jeans he owned. He dressed in dark linen pants and a navy blue cotton dress shirt that made him look like he was ready to hit up a business brunch in Miami. The large watch, the wedding ring, and the top undone buttons added to his seductive look. How can I keep falling in love with this man? Whether he was butt-ass naked or dressed in the nicest clothes to ever touch skin, Damon Monroe was a deity and he knew it.

  He didn’t shave. He trimmed his stubble to keep it from getting too out of control that day, but being casual meant keeping the facial hair. Alice dabbed his cologne on for him before stealing some for herself. Their sunglasses on and wallets picked up, they rode the elevator down to their private parking garage and hopped in Monroe’s BMW. Their date out together meant no staff – including bodyguards. It made Alice think of the night they went to the dance club. It felt so much like a regular relationship. What was she talking about? Of course they had a “regular” relationship. Just unconventional.

  They did many things that day, but the highlights were taking a walk through the central city park, where Monroe treated his wife to cotton candy and a $5 dollar poem from a vendor who had a table set up on the center path. “When days are feeling blue / Look into those eyes of amber / You’ll know what to do / This guy’s no longer a rambler.”

  Alice looked up from the piece of paper. “Well,” her husband said through a gob of cotton candy, “there’s a reason he’s selling them for only $5. Is he wrong, though?”

  They had lunch at the marina, after which Monroe popped down to the docks to check on his yacht and arrange a party celebrating whatever he felt like. Pregnancy announcement? Wedding shower? Hostile corporate takeover? Whatever. He’d figure it out later.

  The highlight for hormonal and emotionally vulnerable Alice was popping into a baby boutique and shopping for their future arrival.

  Before they went in, however, Monroe looked up and down the street, pulled Alice into his arms, and covered her with fervent kisses.

  “Whoa!” she exclaimed, not that she was complaining. “What’s this… whoa!” That was his hand squeezing her ass!

  “Come tomorrow,” Monroe muttered, “we’re going to be all over the papers. There was a photographer down yonder. I wanted to make sure he got a great shot of us in front of a baby boutique.”

  “Damon!”

  “Are you complaining, precious? I’ll call my PR man later to make sure all the facts are delivered. How far along do you think you are?”

  Alice sputtered against his chest. “Over a month?” Her period was a no-show. She refused to believe that one day of bleeding made up for her usual five to seven day bullshit, regardless if she fell down some stairs or not.

  “Excellent. Shall we go inside?”

  He held the door open for her. Alice continued to stand on the sidewalk as if her husband had sprouted five heads, each one crazier than the last.

  “Oh, come on.” Monroe grabbed her hand and hauled her inside.

  Sometimes Alice didn’t know what was careful calculation and what was genuine Damon Monroe out and about with the woman he loved. Would he have kissed her like that anyway, even if there weren’t any paps around?

  There were definitely no paps in the boutique. When Monroe continued to hold his wife’s hand and speak to the salesperson as if they were having a whole brood of children at once, Alice exhaled a sigh of relief and assumed that, perhaps, Monroe was honestly excited about having a baby. Then again, this was the man who was already gung-ho about turning one of their guest rooms into a nursery.

  The salesperson did most of the thinking for them. Furniture? Clothes? Toys? Decorations? They had it all! Did they know the sex of the child yet? No? Well, there were many lovely gender neutral designs they could choose from, which could be used for multiple children in the future. Alice wasn’t thinking that far ahead, but she was pleased to find pale, minty greens in the gender neutral section. Monroe didn’t say anything as he perused the sky blues and whites. He had no eye for the pinks and lavenders.

  Alice finished folding up onesies to put back on a display. I’ve worked enough retail to know to mind myself. “Would you prefer a blue nursery?” she asked her husband.

  He stared at a changing table as if he had no idea what it was used for. Alice had changed her brother’s diapers when he was an infant and her mother was out of commission. Not like my dad was going to do it, and I was old enough to understand. Would Monroe be caught dead changing a baby’s diaper?

  “We’ll do whatever you want. It’s more your room than mine.”

  Well, that answered that question… Alice turned back to the display and thumbed through more mint green and Easter yellow onesies. When money wasn’t an obstacle, she was able to get the cutest looks in every size possible. My baby is going to wear this yellow onesie until it’s two years old at this point. It had duckies on it! Wasn’t that the most adorable thing?

  She saw him staring at It’s a Boy! balloons.

  They were going to have to have this talk at some point.

  “It’s okay if it’s not a boy, right?”

  Monroe did a double-take in her direction. Oh my God, his shirt matches that section of the store. It would’ve been camera phone ready if it weren’t for the topic at hand.

  “Of course it’s okay.”

  “You sure?” Alice had gone through this in her head multiple times. As modern as the times were, it would be best for her to have a son first. That way there would be no squabbling any
where about whether or not she had an heir. Not to mention her husband was a man, and men usually wanted sons. What if it’s a girl? Alice put two protective hands on her abdomen.

  “Why would I begrudge a daughter?” Monroe walked toward the pink section as if to prove a point. He looks so out of his element. This man would have no idea how to raise a daughter. Not that he would be much more in tune with raising a son for that matter. “You get what you want, precious. I said it was more your room than mine because you’re the one having a baby. I want you to feel as comfortable and be as happy as possible. Far be it from me to get between a hormonal pregnant woman and how she wants to design the nursery.”

  She linked her hand with his and held up green paint swatches. “Every time I walk into the nursery I want to crave a York Peppermint Patty.”

  “Great,” Monroe said with a smile. “The cravings have already started.”

  The salesperson commented that their items matched Alice’s emerald ring. When Alice looked down, she first saw her borrowed wedding ring as opposed to the ring she considered a symbol of her relationship. Her lips turned taut.

  “We’ll get you a real ring after tomorrow,” Monroe insisted. “One thing at a time.”

  Easy for him to say. He got to pick out his own ring. Then again, I said I wanted this one. There wasn’t a single person by the name of Monroe who was happy about that.

  In the end, the couple picked up a whole room’s worth of furniture and a starting set of clothes. Alice didn’t want to get too crazy in case her tastes changed through her pregnancy – assuming she even had a pregnancy. Of course I do. Of course I’m pregnant. Why wouldn’t I know this? Because she had never been pregnant before and was currently going through a great and stressful upheaval in her life?

  They arranged to have the furniture delivered later that week and packed the bags of clothes into the backseat of the BMW. Alice was already buckled up in the passenger seat by the time Monroe sat down next to her, keys in hand.

  “Dinner?” He gestured to the late afternoon sun. One would have never guessed he had dropped thousands of dollars on baby stuff.

  Alice gazed at her husband’s profile with a wistfulness neither of them could describe. “I’m happy, Damon.”

  He took her hand between their seats. “I’m happy too.”

  “We’re married and having a baby.”

  “Indeed we are.”

  “Is it everything you’ve ever wanted?”

  “You tell me, precious.”

  For a moment, she was able to forget all the bullshit that had happened in the past few weeks. The threats. The marriage. The mother-in-law’s stories. The theories she had about certain employees. The distance growing between her and her friends and natal family. Right now, for the first time in too long, Alice was a young wife enjoying an afternoon with her sweet husband.

  “So glad that guy didn’t get his way when he pushed me down the stairs,” she muttered.

  Her husband’s hold on her hand faltered. “What?”

  Oh.

  Right.

  Alice never told him a certain tidbit.

  Her face paled to the point she could feel the color draining from her face. Her smile dropped from her mouth. She snatched her hand back. Awful memories of tumbling down those stairs hit her in the back of the head.

  “I wasn’t completely honest about that night,” she admitted. So much for their nice afternoon. “Someone pushed me down those stairs. I didn’t trip…”

  There it was. The face that she was most likely to associate with Damon Monroe, dominant billionaire with a drive to get his way and set things straight. He didn’t need a suit to convey that.

  “Who the fuck pushed you?”

  Alice shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t remember. I barely saw him.”

  “Him?”

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure it was a man.” She sent him a pleading look to drop this. “I was going down the stairs because the elevator was out and suddenly someone pushed into me and I woke up with Dee over me. I don’t know who it was, honest.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this!”

  “Because I didn’t want to upset you. What was the point when I didn’t even remember who pushed me?” Great. Now they were both upset.

  “Alice,” her husband growled. “There are security cameras in the stairwell.”

  He started the car and got on his phone. Alice’s chest tightened.

  “Meet me at the executive office security room,” he barked into his phone while making a reckless turn into traffic. “Now.”

  Chapter 21

  Monroe gave the go-ahead for the two bodyguards to pound on the apartment door. His personal bodyguard of the day took the honor, with Dee hanging back, both guards in their plain clothes after their last minute summons.

  Alice clung to Dee’s arm the moment Monroe shouted through the door.

  “Open this door right fucking now!” The bodyguard thumped the door again.

  It tentatively cracked open, a chain hanging across a plain but feminine face. “What in the world?” Ms. Sarah Clayborn said.

  Monroe stuck his nose into the crack. One would never guess he was addressing one of his personal assistants. “Open the door, Ms. Clayborn.”

  She took in the sight of four people, including Alice, standing on the other side of her door. Dee nodded. “You have got some explainin’ to do,” she shot.

  The door slowly closed. The rattle of the chain coming out of its lock commenced. By the time Ms. Clayborn finally opened the door to admit the party of enraged four, Monroe was already storming into the Clayborns’ apartment.

  Alice had never seen where her husband’s assistants lived before. She didn’t even know their address, although she got a grand view of how much her husband paid them to make their endless toil worth their while. The twins didn’t live in a penthouse, but the flat was spacious and expensive. Dinner cooked on a nearby stove, Ms. Clayborn’s phone playing ‘70s folk rock until she reached over and turned it off. The phone nearly slipped from her hands as she squeaked in fear.

  “What is it?” she asked her boss. “What’s wrong?”

  Monroe barely had eyes for her. “Where the fuck is your brother?”

  Sarah Clayborn glanced toward one of the back bedrooms. Monroe nodded to his bodyguard. Both Sarah and Alice covered their ears as Monroe’s bodyguard marched back and busted down Nigel Clayborn’s bedroom door.

  A scuffle commenced. Shouting. Threats. The clamoring of items falling off the wall. Alice gasped against Dee’s chest and Sarah lunged forward as her brother was dragged out of his room and thrown onto the living room floor.

  “Get up!” the bodyguard yelled. Nigel rolled over, holding his hand to his head. Dee let go of Alice so she could grab and hold back Sarah.

  “What are you doing!” Ms. Clayborn cried. “What’s going on?”

  Nigel had such a guilty countenance that if it weren’t for Sarah, the whole clan would be happy to drag the male Clayborn into the stairwell and show him what it felt like to tumble.

  “You piece of shit!” Monroe pulled Nigel off the carpet for the sole purpose of backhanding him down again. Sarah shrieked in the background. “Where do you get off trying to kill my wife and child?”

  He didn’t give Mr. Clayborn time to answer. Monroe’s right hook was so strong that Nigel could only hit the carpet with a pitiful sound.

  Alice couldn’t watch her husband and his bodyguard rough up Mr. Clayborn. She turned away, so sick to her stomach that it was a wonder she didn’t throw up on the carpet. Beside her, Sarah Clayborn sobbed in fear and confusion.

  “Stop it!” She threw herself at her boss long enough for the bodyguard to shove her away. “Stop hurting him!”

  “I dare you to fucking deny it,” Monroe snarled. “We have you on tape!”

  Nigel Clayborn feebly pushed himself up. He has never looked so pathetic. Was this the man who came into the stairwell and pushed Alice to injury and possi
ble miscarriage? I honestly can’t remember. The security feed hadn’t lied, though. But why? He must have known he was caught on camera!

  “Nigel?” Sarah pushed her hair out of her face. I almost never see it down like this. Nor had she ever seen either Clayborn in casual clothing. Jeans? Macy’s blouse? What was this world? Had Alice already forgotten it? “What is he talking about? You didn’t push Mrs. Monroe down the stairs?”

  He gave his sister a defeated look.

  “Nigel!”

  Monroe stepped back. “You’re done,” he said, his voice so calm and even that Alice was suddenly transported to the boardroom. “Do you understand me? Prison and suing you until your ancestors start bleeding money like you tried to make my wife bleed.”

  He moved to strike Nigel again. Only this time Sarah flung herself forward, covering her brother’s body with her own.

  “Stop it!”

  That shriek silenced the whole room. Alice reached for Dee. Monroe’s bodyguard called the police with a “sweet tip.” Nigel Clayborn remained crumpled on the floor while his sister sobbed and pawed at his battered body.

  “Ms. Clayborn, please…”

  “You shut the fuck up!”

  Even Dee stepped back at that blow up. Even Monroe stepped back, eyes wide as the timid and mousy Ms. Sarah Clayborn shot him the fiercest look a woman ever mustered.

  “What do you fucking know!” Sarah pointed an accusatory finger at her boss. “You know nothing about what’s going on! You have no one but yourself to blame.” Now that dirty look was shot at Alice. Oh my God. Was this what Sarah really thought of her? All those weeks of fetching her for fuck dates, acting like it was another day on the job? “Ever since you met that woman you’ve endangered us all!”

  Alice gasped. “Surely you don’t mean…”

  “Shut up!” Tears streamed down Sarah’s face as she turned her dirty look to Alice. “Aren’t you supposed to be quiet when your man isn’t talking to you?”