An Alpha's Desire

by Amarie Avant

  “Dinner on the beach? I think I like that.” I feel like Pretty Woman while sashaying towards my man. His hand grazes the arch of my back and he leads me toward the stairwell.

  “What’s that?” I glance out of the high windows as I start down the steps. The sky has gotten dark, but it appears as if there’s a large building across from us that wasn’t there earlier.

  “My yacht. We’ll be here for almost three weeks, sweetheart. I didn’t want to bore you with loud helicopter rides.”

  “Oh okay.”

  Outside, there’s a warm breeze and it is soothing against my skin. In every direction, the diamonds radiate off the dark sea.

  “Damn, Daniel, I’m gonna go crazy determining what to do for your birthday in December,” I tell Daniel as I nuzzle into his arm. “I can't touch this.”

  “I don’t require much,” his breath teases my earlobe.

  “And here I was determining if your Christmas present would double as your birthday present.” I giggle. “Hey, where is my birthday dinner? You’ve been feeding me well all day. In fact, Niecy mentioned you’ve been feeding me too well, but I can diet tomorrow.”

  “Actually, I think the table is set up on the west side of the island. You okay to walk? We’ll stay along the shore, instead of through the foliage. And no diets.”

  I nod. “Sure, I can do anything… without heels on my feet.” Somehow, I’ve turned into a giggle-box. I slip one shoe off and then the other. I begin to wonder why Daniel has taken me the long way around, but we slip into that comfortable silence while strolling along the shore. My feet are dampened by the low tide.

  “I love you.” I squeeze his bicep in my arms. How the heck did it take me so much longer than Daniel to say such enduring words?

  Daniel pauses before me. “Good, because every day, somehow you bewitch me to fall harder for you.”

  I gaze lovingly in his eyes. Then shadows flicker off in the distance. “Daniel, there are people…” I reflect. I was introduced to a chef and two maids. Who else is here? There are at least five or six images.

  “People? You sure?” He cocks an eyebrow and starts to look in the direction I’m pointing.

  I peer through the darkness. With a bonfire behind them, it’s hard to tell who they are. Except for one… Juliet. Her hair is as unruly as ever. “It’s Jules!” I begin to run up the grassy incline.

  I make out Lee next to her. And Azalea. Niecy is here with her husband. Angelique and Franco are also there. The chef is standing next to the table with more servants who I assume came from the yacht.

  Then I see Riley! My baby is dressed in his Sunday best.

  “Riley!” I shout, my voice breaking as tears stream down my face. I rush to him. When I hug him, Riley stumbles back a few steps holding me tightly.

  “I missed you. I missed you so much.” I cry into his neck. He’s speaking but his words are muffled by my tears. “Baby, I missed you sooooo much. Where’s your mom? Where’s Lauren?”

  Damn it, I will humble myself and thank her. I kiss my aunt’s cheeks while listening to his response. She says something enduring in French.

  Riley says. “Lauren didn’t bring me.”

  “Girl, you’re petting on that boy like he’s a baby.” Angelique shakes her head.

  “Have some chill. His voice sounds like his balls have already dropped, so calm down,” Niecy adds.

  “Oh, hell no!” I smile. “Riley can have a silver streak in his goatee, he will forever be my baby.” I grab his hairless chin, and he pushes me away with a grin.

  I hug my girls, and then I go to embrace my new sister and Lee.

  Daniel is standing back, hands in the pocket of his tailored slacks. I start for him but behind him, coming up the slope is yet another surprise. My pupils brighten.

  I quickly kiss Daniel. “Thank you!”

  Then I hurry down the slope while Niecy and Angelique joke about how crazy I'm acting.

  My dad and mother are strolling toward me.

  “Happy birthday, Princess,” Dad says with a small gift box in his hand. He hugs me first.

  I stop myself from looking back at Aunt Azalea, mainly because Daniel invited them both, and I haven’t seen them in the same room since I graduated from college. Before that? High school graduation and prior to that, other pivotal points in my life such as the eighth-grade science fair—which I had assumed Azalea wouldn’t attend. But she came, draped in fur, cheering my third place like no other.

  There’s a cloud of intensity surrounding my mom.

  “Monique…” Dad grumbles.

  “Let me say my piece, James. I won’t step into the pulpit,” she tells him, and then she turns to me. “You are my child. Nonetheless, it’ll take more than this for Daniel to persuade me to his side. But I won’t start any shit.”

  I nod.

  “I’ll keep your mother away from the alcohol,” Dad says.

  “Daniel doesn’t drink, so I doubt there’ll be alcohol tonight. Did Lauren let you bring Riley?”

  “Yes, Princess.” Dad smiles, fondly rubbing my arm. “It was all your mother’s doing. Monique is the only person Lauren looks up to still and a combination of—”

  “I got ghetto. Desirenda, come give me a hug!” my mom says. She pulls me into her arms. “Happy birthday!”

  Daniel

  September

  The vacation is coming to a close for Desire and I. While navigating through the Hollywood Hills, I reflect on the entire summer. Our time in Romania was untouchable, although Desire had to cope with the backlash of ending a relationship with Lauren and her mother’s feelings for me.

  We spent much of the last few weeks in the Bahamas. The birthday celebration lasted the entire weekend. We all went on a safari.

  And in the end, my gamble of inviting The Madame because Monique Taylor had been such a wild card at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles didn’t turn around to bite me in the ass. The two women steered clear of each other, through the week, yet it became evident that the tension was clearly on Monique’s end.

  Now we're back in the city. The truth about Desire's father and Azalea is just waiting to blow up, though I've given Monique my word.

  I pull up to the curb of what is now the home I own with Desire.

  “The designer will meet with you this afternoon.” I reach over and fondle her thigh. “For now, this place is all bare knuckles.”

  “And sharp angles.” Desire winces. “Where are the trees and the wide-open spaces?”

  “Damn, do I need to correct that case of post vacation blues?” My hand slips further between her thighs.

  “It's not that, Daniel. I expected us to return to Dallas. For the better part of this entire summer, you've dismissed work for me. Romania and my island and… and now you're again putting me first when the home you love most is in Texas. Should we live together?”

  “Where is that coming from?” I scoff at her concluding question.

  “I'm not talking about the sex. Please don't ever take that away from me. But Rebecca and your grandfather’s will. At least before, I had my home and you have your homes.”

  “Are you saying we are moving too fast?”

  “Hell no. I love us. But if Rebecca's attorneys look deep, my taxes will show that my home is being rented out.” She begins to ramble and mentions that we never have to get married.

  “Reel in all those thoughts, sweetheart. What are you saying?”

  “I don't know.” She turns in her seat with a huff. “I guess, we've been out of the country. Now we're back in the States and the shit is sinking in, babe. Your cousin is a piece of work.”

  “Yeah, she is. Forget about her. Now, explain to me what you want. Because thus far, I’ve been confident in my ability to keep you content.”

  “There's a vast difference from what I want and what you need. I love us…”

  “You've said that.” My jaw tenses.

  Her head cocks. She pouts. “Let’s go inside.”

  “Not until I'm
sure of what you want. I've always been a master at reading you. You want me, hence this house, at least. My confidence is being taken through the ringer though with you saying you don't want to marry me.” I consider the ring.

  “I'd marry you tomorrow, Daniel.”

  “And I'd take your ass to the Justice today, Des.”

  “But!”

  “No fucking buts, sweetheart.”

  She leans back and rams a hand through her tresses. “Daniel, c’mon. I will not be resented by you if Rebecca wins. I have never been so in love before, but I'd fucking sacrifice it all if I could see into the future and that trick took your company from under your hands. Remember when you took me on my first helicopter ride?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That's the moment I realized you loved planes and flying and the whole shebang. You will still be worth billions if Rebecca took Titan, and here's the big ass fucking but. But she'd take your legacy. Your history that I'm sure a handful of people are discussing at this very instant while now surrounding that museum exhibit. That’s a very big legacy, Daniel. So, this place can be a home,” she concludes with a deep breath. “Anywhere you are, I'm home. The anxiety of returning to the U.S. just freaked me out. Now, like I said, we don't have to get married. That's the biggy, so…”

  “We will marry.” I reach over and kiss her. “This would be the perfect time for you to become acquainted with your paddle, Des. I need you strong. And assured. You have a company to commence come Monday.”

  “That's not my paddle.”

  “But pavé diamonds spell out ‘Desirenda’ so technically, it's yours. I have nobody else to use it on.”

  “Your bare hand to my ass is torture enough.”

  “I'd kiss it. Make the pain go away.”

  Desire

  My ace, Lacy, is knocking on the door of the new home I share with Daniel, bright and early on Monday morning. This weekend has been jam packed with meeting the interior designer, express ordered deluxe furniture traipsing throughout the home, dinner with Juliet and Lee as the two talked about returning to fall semester, and Sunday dinner at Mom’s.

  I hustle down the stairs, recalling how dinner was—awkward silence between dialogues but no daggers of hate flying from my mother’s eyes or mouth.

  I pull the heavy door open and somehow Juliet’s overly bubbly demeanor has rubbed off on me because I open my arms wide to hug Lacy.

  “It’s been ages,” Lacy says, holding up a tiny brown paper bag.

  “Ohhhh, are those scones?” My eyes glaze over with lust.

  “Strawberry scone for you and a blueberry for me,” she says, following me into the house.

  “Let’s head to the kitchen. I actually made green tea instead of coffee this morning.” I rub a hand over my stomach. “Going on a diet.”

  “Crap, I brought along the wrong food then.”

  “Nah, I’ll just put us on a pot of coffee and try not to use too much creamer or sugar.”

  “This place is … wow,” Lacy says when we make it into the kitchen.

  “How’re the kids?”

  “Great. My oldest was shocked since she’s used to me telling her next summer we’ll go on a cruise.”

  “How was it?”

  “The Disney cruise? Expensive, but well worth it. Now, we have to hit the ground running before my lights go out,” Lacy jokes.

  “I really appreciate your leaving Elite,” I reply, playing with the contraptions for the coffee machine.

  She waves a hand. “Kroger had a penchant for asking, ‘Do you like your job?’ when everyone made a mistake. Take a big guess what I did after receiving your call in July.”

  I chuckle. “What?”

  “I went into his office and provoked the piggy. Had to get a rise out of him. How many times had I dreamed of telling him off when he asked that idiotic question?”

  We both laugh. With two freshly brewed cups of coffee and our scones, Lacy and I retreat to the home office for my new company. An hour into the meeting, we have made a list of various potential clients from the horde of calls.

  “We have the pick of the litter.” Lacy grins while reviewing the spreadsheet. Then her breath catches. “Oh Des, did you add Patricia Pacetti to the list?”

  “Yup, she was part of my stack. The price tag has kept her in the running, although I'm hardly interested in her request. I believe it was a night on the town for her girls. Money aside, I want a big-ticket item that other super rich people would notice.”

  “She is super rich,” Lacy says. “I would've weeded her out earlier when completing the list. I take it you don't know just who she is. Millions of people know Patricia as Petty. Petty Pacetti. She is on the Mob Wive’s spinoff.”

  My mouth dips in disgust. “Oh heck no.”

  “Allow Petty Pacetti the opportunity to become your debut!” Lacy exclaims.

  My gaze widens. At Elite, my assistant was never so outspoken or excited. Granted, we didn't have the pick of the litter.

  “Will I have to be on … what’s the name of the show?”

  “Mob Mistresses,” she says with a grin.

  I sink back into the cushiony chair, palm to forehead.

  “Honestly, how are you unaware of the show? They have a gazillion Facebook followers and tweets. Desire, we can preview the list, and I’m sure a grand event for any one of these folks would be totally awesome. Petty will be different. And you have never thought inside of the bag.”

  “All right. I’ll call her on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You stop calling that heifa, Petty. I swear before God, I might accidentally call her that while the scene is rolling.”

  Lacy puts her index fingers at her chest and completes the gesture saying, “Cross my heart.”

  I place the headphones over my ear and pull down the receiver to make the call to a New Jersey area code. The call connects and the woman on the other end has a deep, raspy voice as she answers.

  ###

  Petty Pacetti’s best friend has just gone through a nasty divorce, hence her request for an exclusive party catered to just herself and her closest confidants. However, due to the drawn-out divorce proceedings, the television network that fronted the bill for Mob Mistresses opted to postpone Miss Pacetti’s event. Now, it’s mid-October and I’ve already constructed an outline of what she’d like. However, I’ve learned just how ‘real’ reality TV is, since a producer called and told me that we’d have to pretend to start all over, with Patricia calling me to inquire about my schedule for said event.

  There’s an onslaught of camera men and an entire crew at my home when Patricia calls me on speaker. Lacy is in the background grinning her ass off. All the while the cameras are on me, I can’t believe that I’m ‘technically’ acting, and for millions of viewers at that!

  ###

  It’s just after three pm and the Malibu traffic is fierce. Pepperdine University is just two blocks up, and only multiplies the afternoon congestion. The worry in Juliet’s voice has my nerves frazzled so much that I stop abruptly when noticing the sign to Tapas and Shrimps where she asked that we meet for a late lunch. Cars honk, but I wave them off and swing into the parallel spot.

  Outside, diners enjoy the rustic, casual style. The white, linen tables have a recycled wine bottle in the center with small bunches of sunflowers. The Spanish spices surrounding the place hypnotize me and I forget about the five pounds I’ve lost in six weeks since being home. Blonde, kinky hair blows in the wind from underneath a wide brimmed tilted hat, and I know instinctively that Juliet is already seated and waiting for me.

  Damn, we’ve met at Niecy’s at least three or four times in the past two months, and Juliet has never been on time. I weave around the umbrellaed tables to get to hers and I’m already searching her for any signs of abuse when she says hello.

  “Juliet, are you okay?”

  “Yeah...”

  “Is it Lee?”

  “No!” She grumbles. “Lee is …
probably too good for me, but we’re all good. Can I show you something?” she asks as we separate from a sisterly hug.

  “Yes of course,” I reply.

  We sit across from each other.

  “I ordered a trio of tapas appetizers,” Juliet says. “And two Long Islands, and double shots. We’re gonna need them.”

  “Are you sure you can drink alcohol?” I inquire tentatively. Are you pregnant… Damn, Daniel was so very wrong with his paranoia about Lee, but something isn’t right.

  “Dang it, Desire, I’m not pregnant. I know how you think, because my ass would have been blunt about it. Besides, the question is written all over your eyes. But anywho, I borrowed a friend’s old California ID about two years back and have no intention of returning it, so I’m twenty-one. Don’t friggin think about ratting me out to the Gestapo.” She almost smiles but the nerves fluttering through her are thick as hell and I’m unable to become comfortable in my chair.

  “I – I won’t. But I’m dropping you off at home when we leave here. Jules, what did you want to show me?” I ask in a nurturing tone.

  She pulls her backpack from around the chair, unzips it, and grabs an envelope from it. Then she presses the envelope to her chest. “Let’s wait for those drinks.”

  “Okay,” I murmur. Lord, I prayed my ass off on the way here that she wasn’t pregnant or she and Lee got into a fight or…

  A few minutes later, a rectangular saucer is sat before us with an artistic display of tiny seafood. Then, the Long Island ice teas and the double shots. Juliet goes straight for the shot and takes it to the head like a pro. She’s sipping vigorously at the ice tea while passing over the envelope.

  The words scrawled on the front say, “For my Juliet.”

  I pull out the letter which is on a yellow, legal paper. At the bottom, it says, Went II—

  Daniel’s father wrote her a letter. It’s dated 1999.