Alpha Douchebag Page 2

  That’s why that conniving bitch set this meeting. She doesn’t want anything left in Ragan’s hands when she croaks. She’s definitely not going to give it to her one and only son. He’s useless as she was telling mother and father only moments ago.

  She wants to make sure her life’s work is in good, powerful hands— and not the Saint’s hands. Hmmm… her words flip a switch. Marry Ragan before she’s twenty-five? I’ll do it before she’s twenty-one. But I’ll have my own plan in place. Anita Mount will learn not to mess with this dog. I’m all bite, no bark.

  And taking a bite from the apple of the poisonous tree, I walk closer. “Hey, princess. Aren’t you a little young to be flipping people off?”

  Damn, that stare. There’s no doubt about it. My suspicions are right. Looking at Ragan, all sweet and angry in front of me, that mad-dog glare trying to burn holes into me only do one thing. Make me burn even hotter.

  If her stare could kill, I’m sure I’d be six feet under if it didn’t do just the opposite.

  Same mad-dog stare, too. Damn. Does he even know?

  Nah. He would have told me. There’s no way he could keep something this big from me and not tell me.

  She lets out a little she-growl before telling me, “Bite me, dumbass.”

  She turns, I guess done with the conversation, but not before I let her in on a little secret. “One day, princess, you’ll tell me how hard.”

  Once again, she flips me off and stomps up the stairs. It’s time I know the whole truth. The unvarnished truth. The ugly truth. And that old bitch is going to tell me everything or the deal— proposition my ass— this deal is never going to happen.

  This burning begins to ignite in my gut.

  I want it to happen. I’ve made my choice and I’ll never back down. Like I said, I’ll beat that time frame by a few years.

  I walk back into the room and the three turn to me.

  “I’ll do it. She’s mine.” I reach for the door and slowly begin to shut it. “But first, you’re going to tell me when you learned…”

  Some secrets shouldn’t be told with open doors.

  Chapter One

  Ragan

  Thank fuck, I’m finally getting the hell out of this hellhole. I hate going to see her. She’s manipulative, arrogant, unemotional and the most malignant woman you could ever meet.

  My grandmother, who I don’t just call grandmother. No. It’s Grandmother Anita. There’s nothing soft and grandmotherly about this old witch.

  What she’s demanding of me? Yeah, I have not one clue how I’m going to manage that. I know nothing about publishing or authors or anything of that nature. I just turned twenty not too long ago and she’s never even taken me to the family company to show me, well, anything. But she’s ordering me to go. She likes keeping me out of anything to do with the business. Not that I give a shit. I have my own shit to handle and have never needed her foe anything. Much to her dismay. And I only say that because outside of ‘raising me’, insert eye roll here, I pay my own way. The only debt I owe her is a roof over my head for the five years I lived there after my parents dumped me.

  And now? She actually demanded I go to Houston, to the Mitchell’s Give Back Benefit Ball in her stead! “Get the Mitchell bitch to sign the publishing contract, blah, blah, blah. Get in their good graces, blah, blah, blah. By any means necessary.” As if. Like I didn’t know what she meant by any means necessary. Chase and Madeline Snow have two sons around my age. Dumb old hag. I don’t think so.

  After I left her house, she doesn’t ask me to do much, but I know there’s something more behind it. She’s nothing if not hiding something, manipulating me in some way. Always trying to maneuver me so I can be at some place at the exact time she wanted me to be there. Most of the time, it’s when Lochlan Masters tries to browbeat me into being his plaything. Which, for a time, yeah, I wanted that. I enjoyed it. I loved it even. But then, he wanted to get serious and I almost let him.

  Almost.

  Until Mother's Day, earlier this year when I took Grandmother to Forrester’s, one of the most elegant seafood restaurants in Grifton Falls. The day I ended up packing my shit and leaving. I remember it like it was yesterday—

 
  “Don’t wear black, Ragan.” Grandmother Anita always tells me that. Not that I ever listen to her. It’s my signature color. It’s not like I’m all emo or goth or whatever, but with my pale skin and my signature red lip, black just looked great with anything. She wanted to drive me, but I like making her angry as hell whenever I get the chance, so the pretty little black cocktail dress I wore is going to do just that and I drove myself to the restaurant. When she got a look at me, it was like her shoulders deflated with faux disappointment. I knew she was seething inside, but she would never show her vicious side in public.

  Besides, she’s not my mother, I can wear whatever the hell I like. I looked nice. Elegant. My dress fell to my knees, but it was also a bodycon dress with a floral lace overlay. And when her eyes landed on my six-inch oxford heels, she gritted her teeth, and I never felt more triumphant at knowing she’s not going to say anything in public, because all this shit is a show for her. She’s going to pretend like everything is all hunky-dory until we’re behind closed doors. Then she tells me exactly what she thinks about me. Which isn’t much at all.

  Why? Who the hell knows? I don’t and lately, now that I’m in college, making my way without her, I certainly don’t care. Hence why I drove here. I’ll be driving right back to my dorm where I know Lochlan will show up to fuck all this aggravation out of me.

  Knowing I’m making her hate me that much more, fills me with satisfaction. She thinks she’s going to get the best of me, but she’s not. I’ve already been kicked down enough by having my parents abandoning me to her evil, manipulative clutches.

  I make her hate me more than she already does. Why she hates me? I couldn't tell you. The old bitch has been that way since I was child. As if I know what the fuck is going on in the first place. My parents and I had been pretty happy people until my parents got choke-broke and dumped me on my grandmother like I was old news.

  Ever since then, it was like she was going to turn me into a lady no matter what I wanted in my life. My life wasn’t my own. It belonged to her like I was some serf. Fucking old bitch. So I derived as much pleasure as I could by disappointing her at every turn. Then I got into Grifton Falls University all on my own, by my own means of money. I only let them think she’s helping because I don’t need people looking into my background. She hasn’t said anything, probably to keep up pretenses and the only time she asked, I told her it wasn’t her business and she didn’t want to know.

  So, my secret is safe. She has no clue how I make it. No one does. Not even Lochlan. The guy I’ve been fucking for the last four months. The guy who took my virginity with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop. But then, he’s so good at it. Good at fucking me with mindless detachment and vulgar words. God, his depravity gets me so hot. He knows we’re nothing more than just fuck buddies. I made that clear when he propositioned me to be his main hook-up chick. I knew it was doomed to fail, but after our first time, my first time, I really, really liked it. But that’s all it is. Fucking.

  “Honestly, Ragan. I asked you—

  “Does it look like I care what you want? Be thankful I’m here because you asked me to. I know you don’t like spending quality time with me. All this is a show for whoever you want to show me off to. Mother’s Day is just a trick, Grammy.” She loathes that word. The look she’s giving me now? I’d so be dead by now but she recovers quickly, so none of her supposed friends can see her be anything less than perfect.

  The fact I stand toe to toe with her, irks her. I’ve never needed her for anything. And after I turned eighteen, graduated from Grifton Falls Academy and got into GFU, I moved the fuck out and into the dorms. I didn’t want anything more to do with her unless it was necessary. But I do this shit with her because she likes her petty little games and I enjoy them at times. I like seeing her shocked and disgusted. But I know I look good, so I move on. “So, let’s do this dinner and just save the next visit for whenever you feel the need to move my pawn into position again.”

  Of course, friends of hers come up and the complete lack of emotion in her face is replaced by fake smiles. I lead us into the restaurant, wait for the host to take us to our seats and not moments after we’re sitting down, she tries to order for me. Of course, it’s some lady-sized portion. It’s not like I’m overweight. Or chubby. A size eight is smaller than average. But she’s been petite and ever so lady-like her entire life and pretty much something I’ll never amount to.

  All because of my mother. What my mother has to do with anything? Who knows? Maybe she found out what kind of background she came from and naturally despises her. Although, I can’t really blame her. They’re horrible people.

  Twenty minutes after our food is brought out, I’m done and hoping we can make an exit shortly. The conversation is like it always is. Boring. Uneventful. She makes a few demands. I ignore them. Then we move on until the next time. But no, she must have caught someone's eye because her face lights up.

  I turn and oh, God. The Masters family. A waitress is leading Mr. and Mrs. Masters, followed by Lochlan and Duncan. Oh, great. And naturally, Sebastian Masters sees my grandmother and says something to his wife, and then they all look over at us. Great.

  My gaze lingers a little too long on Lochlan, who thankfully hasn’t noticed— never mind. Our eyes connect and the smile on his face is predatorial and filled with a hidden hunger I’d normally stoke into a burning flame, but not here and definitely not with her next to me.

  I’ll wait until I leave and tell him to sneak into my dorm later if he wants to do things to me.
Thankfully, he enjoys fucking me with rough possession and need and I get an escape from my own mind. But that’s all he and I are. Fuck buddies. In public, he’s Ragan-enemy number one. I’d say we’re enemies-to-lovers, but I just use him for his dick. My heart is not involved.

  It. Is. Not. Involved.

  At least, that’s what I try to convince myself. He made a crack in my armor the day I turned twenty. God. It was just last month.

  He was the only person who said it to me. I hadn’t even known he knew. My parents failed to call me on the day. Grandma Anita sure as hell didn’t care enough and I was okay with that. But he knew. He didn’t make a big deal out of it either, to my comfort. He had two boxes, one looked like a clothing box and the other had a sweet scent coming from it.

  A Gigi’s Cupcakes cupcake. Only this was a cupcake twice normal size, chocolate chip with fancy swirling icing and a chocolate chip cookie as a garnish. I don’t know how he knew I liked cupcakes, but before I could taste it, he set the cupcake box on my nightstand and gave me the gift. A beautiful leather biker jacket that I had my eye on. God. I don’t know how he knows some things and not know my secret because it seems as if he knows everything.

  He told me to put it on and before I knew it, I was on my knees on top of the bed and pushing my arms through, a small thrill rushing through my veins. I was slipping on the other sleeve when I felt him sit on the bed behind me and just as I turned, he pulled me back into his arms. I was too excited for the cupcake to argue.

  I heard flickering and turning, I saw he stuck candles, numbers 2 and 0 in it and lighting it. He brought the too pretty cake in front of me and told me to hold it. I was ready to blow out the candles when he told me to wait. I didn’t get it until he pulled me flush against him with one arm across the top of my chest and the other he had his phone out, snapping pictures. We’ve never taken any pictures before. I’m not completely sure about him taking them. I didn’t want people knowing my business. Then he said, “At least smile before you blow out the birthday candle and ride my dick like a noble steed, princess.”

  It had been that foul mouth plus that hidden sarcastic funny shit he likes to throw in every once in a while that made me look into the camera with a full on smile because yeah. While I didn’t want to wait to eat the complete perfection of cake in front of me, I wanted his dick too. He took the picture, sent it to me and when I saw it, yeah. My heart cracked a centimeter. Was it enough for him to slither his way in? God, I hoped not. This whole thing started with a promise of sex and only sex. Birthday cupcakes and presents, no.

  But still… after we fucked ten ways to Sunday, he was gone at sun up, and I sent that photo to CVS to get printed.

  I keep the photo hidden under my mattress, so no one knows I secretly stare at it and wish things weren’t the way they were. If I was anyone else, if my parents weren’t wastrels and degenerates and my grandmother wasn’t a conniving, evil bitch, I might think… might hope I could have a future with a man like Lochlan.

  But I don’t. I live firmly in reality and it’s known that I’m not the kind girl a guy like Lochlan has for keeps. He’ll probably be with a woman more like his mother. A more obedient woman I’ve never seen.

  Although I see it. The way he looks at me. Wanting more. I can’t give him that. And I won’t. My eyes narrow and roll before I turn back around and see a sly smile lifting on her face but when she catches me looking at her— poof— blank. What the fuck? I don’t like that smile. Not one bit. I need some air. Her hubris is sucking the life right out of me.

  “I’m going to powder my nose.”

  “No, you need to stay, Ragan Elouise.”

  I scoot my chair back and stand. “No, thank you.” Then I start walking just as I hear Lock’s dad saying hello to me, but I only lift my hand in response and walk towards the bathroom.

  God. I don’t like all this idle chit-chat. I get into the bathroom and thankfully, no one is there. I go straight to the sink and slap my hands down; my clutch clinking on the porcelain. I see enough of Lock as it is. On campus. In my room four, five nights a week. Not that he’s there when I wake up, thank God. But I see him everywhere I go. Him and that callous, know-it-all, sexy as fuck smirk that’s always planted on his face as if he knows everything I’m thinking.

  GAH! I wet my hands and gently pat the back of my neck with the cool water. I hate thinking about him, but the last few weeks, he’s the only thing I can think about. It’s only going to lead to trouble. Serious… serious trouble. I feel my heart getting involved and I can’t let that happen. Because I know… I know, it’s exactly what she wants. Me to be someone else’s problem. As if I’m an incurable cancer just waiting to die off. That’s why—

  The door to the bathroom slams open, scaring the crap out of me. I spin around, see Lochlan, big, broad and that lust-filled gaze of his zeroes right on me. His eyes fall to my feet, the traps he calls eyes lock on the fact they’re the six-inch heels. His nose flares hotly, and they continue to sweep upward. They scroll over the bare skin of my legs until they reach the hem of the dress a few inches above my knees. The bodycon dress fits me like a glove and while I’ve never been well-endowed in the chest area, he’s never really given a damn about that. My b-cup size is perfect for his large hands as he likes to tell me, but his hands are the size of hams. How he likes small breasts… I don’t know, but the way his eyes focus there, I can feel my nipples pebbling beneath my dress. Yeah, I’m not wearing a bra underneath this so it’s totally noticeable.

  My long, black hair is in curls around my face and while I’m not wearing a lot of makeup, my signature red lip is there and I can see his jaw lock tight. Then his face whipped to the side and this hard, irritated sigh left his lips and suddenly he comes towards me, snatches my hand and yanks me towards the handicap stall. I don’t get a word in as he shoves me inside, where I grab a hold of the railing before I fly into the wall. Ass. Hole!

  “Lochlan! What are you—

  “Shut up.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-yell, angry he just manhandles me— in the bedroom in one thing, but out here in public? Hell. No.

  He locks the stall and that’s when I hear the bathroom door push open. My mouth goes wide. This smirk lifts on his face as he stalks towards me. Oh. My. God! I know what he wants to do. I shake my head no furiously. I mouth, “No. Not here.”