Reluctantly Alpha (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 8)

by Ruth Cardello

  “Did you see the news? Your old boss was arrested on campus today. He confessed to embezzling over a million dollars from Reemsly. I’m so glad you’re no longer there.”

  “Confessed? That sounds unlikely.” Then she remembered what Connor had said about Bradford investigating him. He must have threatened to expose something worse if admitting to embezzlement was a better option. “I don’t feel sorry for him. He was a horrible man. I do feel bad for the school, though. Any idea who they’ll find to step in?”

  “Interested?”

  “Oh, no. I’ve closed the door on that place, but I hope they choose their next headmaster with more care. The children deserve the kind of positive Reemsly experience I had.”

  “That actually sounds quite healthy of you.”

  “Thank you,” Angelina said.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “How do you know I am?”

  “I can hear it in your voice. So, come on, cough it up. Are things heating up at your new job?”

  “You could say that.”

  “What? Hold on. What have I missed?”

  Angelina took a deep breath then blurted, “I’m falling in love with him, Aly. If you took a miracle, added some magic, and put it in a blender with a dash of I-think-this-could-be-the-one—that’s how great of a day I had with him.”

  “Wow,” Aly said. “So, the sex was good.”

  “Oh, yes. But this isn’t about that.”

  “Isn’t it? The endorphins released by multiple orgasms can induce an emotional response that feels like love.”

  Leave it to Aly to reduce how she felt to a biological response to finally getting laid. “Have you ever been in love?”

  “No, nor have you.”

  Low. True, but low. “I’ve had multiple orgasms before, though, and this is different.”

  “Because it didn’t require batteries?”

  Angelina’s mouth dropped open, then she laughed. Aly had a cutting humor that could be missed in the heat of the moment. “Jerk. All I’m saying is that I had the most incredible day with Connor.”

  “I don’t doubt that. I’m just suggesting you tap the brakes. The last time we spoke you were sure he wasn’t even your type. Give your blood time to recirculate to your brain.”

  “What happened to thinking I should be more optimistic?”

  “That was Joanna. Listen, if it works out with Connor, I’m all for it. I’m team Angelina, though. Take your time. Let him prove himself. Whitney is still young enough that what you do affects him.”

  Angelina sighed and gripped her steering wheel. “Do you think I don’t know that? I’ve made Whitney my life for the past thirteen years. This isn’t going to change my priorities. I had a great date. Great sex. For once I’m not beating myself up with all the ways this could go wrong. Even if it does, let me have this. I need to believe good things are possible.”

  Aly was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I am. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

  “You had every right to. It’s easier to advise you about your love life than ask myself why mine is nonexistent. Classic transference.”

  “It’s more than that and you know it. You also love me and don’t want to see me hurt.”

  “That too.” Aly chuckled.

  The passenger door of Angelina’s car opened and Whitney jumped in just in time to hear Aly ask, “So, what made the sex so good?”

  “Gotta go, bye Aly,” Angelina said, ending the call and groaning audibly.

  An awkward silence dragged on for long enough that Angelina broke out in a sweat. She knew she should say something, but she hadn’t felt this guilty since her father had caught her sneaking some of his beer out to her friends when she was a teenager.

  Angelina cleared her throat and opened her mouth, then closed it. I could say sex is perfectly natural and . . . and . . .

  Oh, shit.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?” Her voice came out as a squeak.

  “Do I need to start wearing a bell?”

  The humor in her son’s voice made it possible for her to turn and look him in the eye. With a nervous laugh, she said, “I am so sorry. I’ll pay for whatever amount of therapy you need after this week.”

  He tossed his bookbag into the back of the car. “I’m fine. At least it was good sex.”

  Angelina started the car engine. “This topic is now officially closed.” She backed out of the parking spot. “How was school?”

  “Not as good as your day,” Whitney said dryly.

  Angelina barked out a laugh. “Stop. I am attempting to adult here. Erase the last few minutes from your memory because I have every intention of pretending they never happened.”

  His laugh helped ease the remaining tension. After another quiet moment, he said, “Seriously, Mom, I don’t care as long as you’re happy. It’s good to see you laughing.”

  She gave his arm a pat. “Thanks, Whitney. I really like this guy.” She glanced over to check his expression. He seemed to be taking it all in stride.

  “Is he still picking you up from our apartment tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because I have a few things I want to say to him before your date.”

  Oh, boy. “Whitney, he’s good man.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Angelina almost told Whitney not to be rude to Connor, but she thought about what Aly had said . . . if things worked out with Connor, Whitney’s life would be affected as well. Her son had yet to disappoint her. If anything, he was so well-behaved it often worried her.

  What was the worst that could happen? If Whitney said something that offended Connor to the point that he didn’t want to be with her—then he wasn’t the man she was beginning to think he was. Whitney had the right to ask questions, to voice his concerns.

  During the ride home, conversation turned to mundane topics—homework, schedules, dinner. The evening passed as uneventfully. When Whitney retired to his room, Angelina texted Connor: Are we still on for tomorrow?

  Connor: Hell yes.

  She smiled. What time?

  Connor: How about eleven?

  Angelina: Perfect. What should I wear?

  Connor: Go casual. I have two options for the day. I’ll let you choose tomorrow.

  Angelina: Now I’m curious.

  Connor: Good. But I’m not saying a word.

  Angelina: If you were here I could get you to talk.

  Connor: I don’t doubt that for a second. Hey, today was incredible.

  With a huge grin, Angelina sat on the couch and hugged a pillow to her stomach. Whether the warmth spreading through her was due to a chemical reaction or a burst of love, it felt too damn good to question. It sure was. She didn’t want to hold back when it came to him. I wish I could sleep in your arms tonight.

  Connor: It would have to be sleep because you wore me out.

  She laughed. Poor baby. You’ll recover.

  Connor: Bet your ass I will. Did you get to Whitney’s school on time?

  Angelina: I did.

  Connor: Good. I’m looking forward to meeting him tomorrow.

  About that. Angelina: I’m hopeful the two of you will get along.

  Connor: We will. I have a plan.

  Until recently, Angelina would have needed to know what the plan was. She would have dissected it, mentally listed every reason why it might fail, and likely had a nightmare or two about it as her subconscious visualized worst-case scenarios.

  But I’m not going to torture myself like that.

  I’m going to keep saying, “Everything will work out.”

  The more I say it, the more I believe it.

  And I really want to believe it.

  Angelina: See you tomorrow at eleven.

  His response was an emoji of a gorilla.

  That’s good.

  Right?

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning, after packing the trunk of his car, Connor star
ted the drive to Angelina’s apartment then remembered something he’d meant to do the night before. Via the phone in his car, he called Clay. Surprisingly, he picked up.

  “You’re going to love what I have planned. The car should be there to pick you up in about an hour,” Clay said.

  “I love you for wanting to do this, but Angelina and I are already working things out.”

  “I know. I heard. Because of your lack of patience I had to change today’s itinerary. It was going to start with a helicopter ride. I’ll admit, though, filling one with white rose petals was a nice touch I didn’t consider.”

  “Clay, I’m not even going to ask you how much you do or don’t know about that ride. Later we’ll discuss having healthy boundaries. Right now, you need to hear what I’m saying. I’m not home. I won’t be home until later tonight. If you send a car no one will be there for it to pick up.”

  Almost without missing a beat, Clay asked, “So, where do you want it to retrieve you and Angelina?”

  And people think I’m slow.

  “Clay, I made my own plans for the day. I don’t need your help. I’ve got this.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. You’ve been wonderful to me. It’s just that—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cancel the car.”

  “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “Dogs with rabies get mad. I’m not mad.”

  “Angry then.”

  “That would require being emotionally involved, which I’m not. My intention was to do something nice for you. If you can do this all on your own, that’s better for everyone.”

  The problem with Clay was that rather than hugging him, or spanking him, his parents had raised him to believe money was the way people showed they cared. Someday Clay would see that people would love him just as much if he showed up in a Jeep with a case a beer. The private jet? The endless gifts? They were nice, but they weren’t why Connor considered him a friend. More than anything else, Clay didn’t just say he wanted to be involved—he showed up. Like when he’d bought a new wardrobe for Connor. The only reason Connor had accepted it was because Clay had been right there, picking out each item with the care of a proud parent sending his child off to school for the first time. It had been so touching Connor hadn’t been able to say no.

  He didn’t like that he was disappointing Clay, but one thing Connor had learned recently was that while he still wanted to make others happy . . . he had to do it in his own way. If he and Clay were going to remain friends, Clay would need to respect that.

  “I’m on my way to Angelina’s right now. I planned two separate dates. I’m going to let her choose which one she wants.”

  “I don’t care one way or the other.”

  Yes, he did. Otherwise they wouldn’t still be having this conversation. “If it goes the way I hope it does, I’ll call you later to tell you about it. My biggest goal for the day is to get her kid to like me. I have to tell you, meeting him is a little intimidating. This kid is smart. Brilliant. I’m not even going to pretend I know big words around him. I can’t fuck this up. I see a future with Angelina.”

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “I can’t badass this. That’s not who I want to be in her life. I also don’t want to be a joke to her son.”

  “You won’t be.”

  “I know everyone calls me a meathead. Hey, Fairy Godfather, do you have an intelligence wand you can wave? Because that’s what this Cinderfella needs. Or am I Prince Charming? See, I don’t even fucking know. I thought I had two great dates planned, but now that I’m talking it out, I don’t know if either is a good idea.”

  Clay sighed. “Meathead. I wish that had been my nickname growing up. My boarding school was a cesspool of negativity. Money and ‘big words’ don’t insulate a person from ridicule. In fact, sometimes they’re a magnet for it. I don’t know what Angelina’s son is like, but I know you. You play the idiot, but you’re not one. Be yourself with Angelina’s son and you’ll be fine. I’ve never met a kid who didn’t adore you.”

  “I am kind of likeable.”

  “You are.”

  “So are you, Clay. You’re a good friend. I have an idea. Don’t waste the date you planned for me. Take your wife on it. I bet Lexi would love that.”

  Sounding much happier, Clay said, “That is a fabulous idea. I haven’t surprised her with anything in a while.”

  “See. It all worked out. I’m going to let you go now because I’m almost at Angelina’s apartment, but let’s talk tomorrow.”

  “Good luck, Connor.”

  “Thanks, Clay.”

  Connor parked in the garage of Angelina’s New York apartment and smiled. Ever since he’d asked his father if he’d been happier before meeting the Barringtons, he’d been asking himself the same question. What he’d realized was it wasn’t a simple yes or no.

  Since meeting them, he’d learned to doubt himself.

  But he’d also grown because of the experience.

  Like a pendulum, his life had swung back and forth between extremes.

  If he hadn’t met the Barringtons, he wouldn’t know that where he wanted to be was somewhere in the middle. He got out of his car and opened the trunk. He also wouldn’t know the bonding power of board games. Video games were fun—he enjoyed them as much as anyone, but there was something magical about going old school. Monopoly. Battleship. UNO.

  They were the perfect icebreakers.

  No one could remain reserved while gleefully telling another person that they sunk their battleship. He didn’t know how Angelina would feel about him suggesting a game day rather than a romantic one, but he had a plan B just in case.

  And if everything went as he was hoping, there would be a lifetime of romantic days ahead.

  After Angelina buzzed Connor up, she paced nervously back and forth to the door of her apartment. Whitney was sitting on the couch playing a violent video game he knew she didn’t approve of. It was a show of defiance that didn’t bode well for how this was about to go.

  On a normal day she would have reminded him that such games were banned from their home. She also would have reminded him to watch his manners with Connor.

  There was nothing normal about introducing Whitney to a man he knew she’d slept with. She took ownership of the part she’d played in making this introduction awkward.

  Whitney didn’t look up from his game when there was a knock on the door. Angelina took a deep breath, forced a brave smile, and let Connor in.

  “Hi,” she said breathlessly. Each time she saw him felt as exciting as the first. Would that zing always be there? She hoped so.

  “Hi, yourself.” His arms were laden with at least ten board games, but he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Where should I put these?”

  “On the dining table, I guess.” She referenced a table behind the couch. “That’s a lot of games. Whitney, stop and say hello.”

  Whitney continued to play his video game.

  While Connor was occupied with putting the games down, Angelina leaned over the back of the couch and said softly, “Whitney Timothy Kroll, I respect how you feel about meeting Connor. You need to remember that respect goes both ways. I care about this man.”

  Whitney ended the game and stood. Angelina wasn’t sure what to expect when Connor joined them.

  Connor held out a hand to Whitney. “Nice to meet you, Whitney. I feel ridiculous because I was imagining you as a child, but you look old enough to drive.”

  Whitney didn’t shake his hand. He looked him over and asked, “Did you know you wanted to date my mother before you hired her?”

  Connor lowered his hand. “I did. It’s complicated, but I’m telling myself it’s not morally an issue because she seems to like me as well.”

  Angelina stood awkwardly between them. “Did you see the games Connor brought? You used to love to play board games, remember? We’ll have to try them out.”

  Whitney frowned and directe
d his next question at Connor as well. “What’s the deal with all the games?”

  Connor didn’t seem bothered by Whitney’s cool tone. “I thought they’d be a fun way for all of us to get to know each other. I kick ass at Parcheesi, am a formidable opponent in UNO, but—full disclosure—I’ve been known to cheat at RISK.”

  “So, you’re a cheater?” Whitney latched onto the word like a prosecutor in a courtroom.

  “Only at the end of RISK. I think everyone should. Who really enjoys that last part? Maybe the same people who claim losing at Monopoly is still fun? RISK is a war game. You can’t convince me if you were losing a war you wouldn’t find a way to get a few extra soldiers behind enemy lines. Like a Trojan ram.”

  Ram? Angelina didn’t correct Connor.

  Whitney wasn’t as kind. “Don’t you mean horse?”

  Without missing a beat, Connor said, “I only read the Iliad as a graphic novel so I could be wrong, but I think Homer exaggerated the details a bit for effect. Think about it—you’ve been at war for about ten years. All of a sudden, the other side gives up and sails away? Yeah, because that happens. And one guy who says he’s no longer with the losers who left wants to give you an enormous gift—one that no one fucking needs. A big, hollow wooden horse. A story that doesn’t make sense isn’t likely to be true. First, you don’t make shit like that overnight or by yourself. It takes time and that means people knew about it. And people talk. Second, let’s pretend it’s possible to keep a huge wooden horse a secret . . . I challenge you to gather up a bunch of your friends and tell them to quietly hide in a wooden horse. Have you ever gone hunting with a bunch of guys? How long were they in there? More than five minutes? Guaranteed one of them had to take a piss. Because no matter how many times you tell someone there won’t be a bathroom, they don’t get it. And those soldiers would have been nervous. Their backup buddies just left on a boat. Yeah, so there’s no chance there wouldn’t have been leakage out the hooves of that Trojan horse. The only version of that story that makes sense is if the Greeks had built the horse as a battering ram. They broke down the damn door then decided to not only slaughter everyone inside but also perpetrate a smear campaign so good we’re still talking about it today.”