Alphas & Millionaires Starter Set Page 3

  I rolled my eyes at Blakely as she winked at me. Brad was a nice looking guy and he had a beautiful smile, but him sitting so close to me was incredibly unsettling. I could only imagine how we looked from afar—like a couple. I tried to break out of his grip, but he pulled me in tighter.

  I looked up at him while he spoke casually, glancing to see if Drake was looking at me. His eyes caught mine, and he raised his brows at me and winked. I looked away, knowing I needed to leave before this got any weirder.

  “Sorry guys, but I have to go. Stella will be heading to bed soon, and I want to see her before she falls asleep,” I said casually, gesturing to Brad to allow me out of the booth. I gave him a hug, hoping Drake was watching, and told the rest I’d see them all tomorrow. I grabbed my things and headed for the door, not looking in Drake’s direction.

  This was so confusing.

  I don’t know why I would want Drake to see me hug another man or why I would want to give Brad the wrong impression. This whole thing was messing with my head.

  I started walking toward my apartment while trying to flag a cab. I had three beers, and since I was feeling light-headed, I didn’t feel comfortable walking home in the dark. Fortunately, a cab pulled over. I grabbed for the door handle and tripped—nearly face-planting on the cement. Before I could, a strong arm reached for me, saving me and my face from an abrupt stop.

  Shit, I’m a klutz.

  I thanked the person for catching me before realizing Drake was the one whose arm had stopped my fall.

  God, he’s even more gorgeous up close—if that were even possible.

  “Miss Woods, are you all right?” he asked with a concerned look, continuing to hold me close.

  Why was he so close to my face?

  Walk away…walk away….

  “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Stagliano. Just…clumsy,” I mumbled.

  “You need to be more careful. Especially if you’re going to be drinking,” he scolded. He leaned forward, just barely grazing me and grabbed the door handle, gesturing me into the cab. I rolled my eyes as I turned my head and climbed into the cab that was impatiently waiting.

  “Yes, I will. Thanks, again.” I could feel the heat coming off him. It was so intense, I felt intimidated just being near him. I needed to hold it together…

  I sat on the far side of the seat, expecting him to close the door, but instead he got in and sat down beside me.

  What the hell?

  He noticed my puzzled expression as he told the cab driver where to go. “I hope you don’t mind? Since we’re heading in the same direction, after all,” he said slyly.

  “Sure,” was all I was able to say, practically holding my breath. We continued sitting in silence until my phone rang out in a chorus of My Life Would Suck Without You.

  I answered and heard Stella’s tiny voice on the other end. “Hey, baby. I’ll be home soon, okay? Tell Michael to save me some dinner. Love you, too.”

  “Kelly Clarkson fan?” he asked smugly.

  “Not by choice.” I snorted.

  He frowns. “Who’s Michael?”

  I looked up at him, trying to read his expression. “My roommate.”

  “Boyfriend?” His jaw ticked.

  “No.”

  “Good to know,” he said with confidence.

  I could hardly focus around him, but I wanted answers. “So what was your reason for stopping by last night?”

  “I already told you,” he replied smoothly. “I wanted to see you.”

  I furrowed my brows as I tried to understand what that meant. “Why? We don’t know each other.”

  He cleared his throat, shifting eagerly in his seat. “But I want to know you.” His tone softer, more genuine this time.

  “I’m flattered, Mr. Stagliano, but I’m not interested in getting to know you.”

  He furrowed his brows and parted his lips to speak, but I cut him off before he could.

  “Or anyone, for that matter,” I clarified. The truth was I hadn’t been interested in dating anyone since Liam. It’s been almost four years since he died, and I still feel like I’d be cheating on him. I knew that sounded ridiculous to many people, but getting my career off the ground and taking care of Stella were my only priorities.

  Part of me wanted to smack myself for telling him I wasn’t interested. Was I? And the other part wanted to straddle his lap right then and there.

  “Well, Miss Woods, I just want to know you as a friend,” he assured me—unconvincingly, of course.

  “Fine, Mr. Stagliano. What do you want to know?” I sighed, meeting my eyes with his.

  “What is your favorite position?” he asked, with a straight face.

  Christ, what did he just ask me?

  Stunned, all I could do was give him a wide-eyed look as I replied, “Excuse me?”

  “In the kitchen,” he replied. “What is your favorite position in the kitchen while you’re cooking?” he clarified, although I was sure he wanted to rattle me.

  “I love working with desserts and sauces. I like being able to make food desirable and appealing. It’s like art – but with food.” I gave a little smile, hoping that was a satisfying enough answer for him.

  “Desirable and appealing,” he pondered aloud. “That’s intriguing.”

  Finally, the cab pulled over in front of my apartment. “Thank you again, Mr. Stagliano, for catching my fall.” I reached for the handle and swung the door open.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Woods.” His face was dark and intense. I nodded and stumbled out.

  * * *

  “Michael! Have you seen my wallet?” I asked, panicking. No, no! Of all days to be late and my wallet is MIA.

  “No, sorry, honey. Did you look through your purse and coat?”

  “Yes, three times already! It’s gone!” Where the fuck did it go? “Guess I’ll need to call my bank and credit card companies.”

  “Don’t forget you’re picking Stella up today. I have a hot date,” Michael reminded me as he walked into the kitchen, pulling his shirt over his head.

  “Yes, I know. Hot date, huh?” I asked, curiously. Michael was a player, but as long as he didn’t bring his accomplices to the house, I didn’t care.

  “Troy. He’s fun. If it doesn’t go too well, I’ll be back by nine.” Michael approached me and tenderly kissed me on the forehead goodbye.

  “Stella, let’s go, honey!” We left and practically ran to a cab.

  Of all days to be late and without my wallet…it was a good thing I had a secret stash of cash in the house for emergencies.

  “Welcome, Miss Woods. Glad to see you’re finally joining us today,” Mr. Cooper scolded, looking annoyed. I was fifteen minutes late and as much as I tried to sneak into the kitchen, I was busted.

  “I apologize, Mr. Cooper. It won’t happen again.”

  “Are you all right?” Blakely turned around with a concerned look.

  “Yeah, just ran late. I lost my wallet,” I pouted.

  “I saw Mr. Stagliano leaving the tavern right after you left. Looked as if he were up to something,” Blakely mentioned, changing the subject as we gathered in our groups for another cooking project. Today we were focusing on bases and soups.

  “Really?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t noticed. I didn’t know if mentioning him to her was a big deal or not. I figured she would hound me and ask a million questions. I didn’t need to be distracted today since I was already late for class.

  “Okay, so let’s start with the vegetable minestrone and tomato lavender base,” Brad proposed. We chatted for the next several hours getting our soups and bases prepared. Interning was grunt work. We had to do all the crappy jobs that the chefs didn’t feel like doing. We have to learn anyway, but I was ready to move on to more challenging tasks, start entrees, and gourmet meals. I hoped to run my own kitchen someday. Maybe my own restaurant.

  Before Liam and I found out we were expecting, I worked at a local restaurant in town where I cooked, and Liam bussed. We were
trying to save money to move into our own place. I would pretend that I was the executive chef and present the food in a special way with garnishes and drizzles on the plates. After having that job, I knew that was what I wanted to do. Cooking gave me a sense of accomplishment that I needed after my parents’ divorce. While they were tied up in who got what, I felt invisible most of the time.

  “I’m just going to place this in the freezer, guys. Be right back,” I announced, my hands full.

  I shuffled some containers around to make room in the freezer and once I was finished, aimed for the door, but noticed something shiny out of the corner of my eye.

  No fucking way.

  There, placed on a rack next to containers of condiments, was my Coach wallet with a note neatly folded on top.

  You left this in the cab last night. Figured you would need it. However, if you want the remainder of the contents you must meet me for dinner first. Pick you up at 8pm tomorrow night. —D.S.

  Are you fucking kidding me? He was holding my credit cards hostage. Un-fucking-believable. What nerve.

  I grabbed my wallet and rushed out of the freezer, racing right past my group. I figured now was as good a time as any to take a break and head right to Mr. Stagliano’s office myself.

  Yeah, and demand my stuff back!

  …Or maybe, I just want to see that sexy smile again.

  No, definitely to yell at him for how rude he is.

  I took the elevator up to his office and stalked to his receptionist’s office. “I need to speak with Mr. Stagliano, Drake Stagliano, please,” I insisted.

  I was determined to get my belongings back. However, I suddenly felt very nervous to see him again.

  “Do you have an appointment, Miss?” his receptionist queried, surprised by my authority.

  “Molly Woods,” I filled in for her. “No, I don’t, but Drake, I mean, Mr. Stagliano, has something of mine, and I want it back,” I fumed, keeping my stance. She didn’t glance up at me as she turned to her phone and dialed. After a moment, she hung up and escorted me into Drake’s office.

  “He’ll be right in, Miss Woods.” The receptionist motioned for me to take a seat at his desk as she shut the door. His office was the size of my entire apartment. It looked like the ideal bachelor pad, although, I was sure he didn’t live here. It seemed ridiculous that an office should be so stunning. Televisions, chairs, couches, mini bar…

  I jumped as the door opened, startled out of my wandering thoughts. Drake walked in with a huge grin on his face, displaying his perfect, white teeth. I stared at him for a moment before I realized I needed to be pissed off.

  Am I pissed off? Yes! Yes, you are, dammit!

  “Miss Woods, what a surprise!” He smiled as he walked toward me. His smirk totally read that, in fact, he was not surprised at all. He was wearing a black three-piece suit with a silver vest and tie. Damn, he looks good. He came around to his desk, sitting down nonchalantly, as if he had no idea why I would be there. Dammit, why must he be so dreamy?

  “Molly,” I reminded, hoping he’d finally get the hint. “Mr. Stagliano,” I continued, “It appears you have something of mine. I want it back.” He was still smirking at me as if something was funny.

  “Miss Woods.” He turned his chair , looking directly into my eyes. “I mean, Molly,” he corrected. “I will graciously give you whatever you want, but not until tomorrow night. 8 p.m.”

  “And if I don’t go?”

  He shrugged as if he didn’t believe my hesitation. “I guess you go without.”

  Jackass.

  “Fine.” I caved, sneering at him. I crossed my arms over my chest. “What should I wear?”

  “A cocktail dress will suffice,” he answered sternly. “8 p.m. Don’t keep me waiting.” He rose from his chair to usher me to the door.

  I failed to stand up when he did because I was shocked at his blunt, bossy words. Instead of ushering me out the door, he sat casually on the corner of his desk staring at me.

  “Why dinner?”

  “You stated we didn’t know each other, Molly. I want to change that,” he said, again looking directly into my eyes.

  “All right then, Mr. Stagliano.” I gave in. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” We both stood up, intending to walk toward the door. Drake gently placed his hand around my waist, guiding me through the door. The bottom of my shirt crept up slightly from his hand. I trembled as his warm hand met my bare skin.

  “Until tomorrow night, Molly,” he whispered into my ear as I was leaving. I shivered as his lips brushed close to me and I could feel his warm breath against my neck.

  CHAPTER 3

  “So who’s the lucky guy?” Michael grinned as he watched me get dressed.

  “I’d rather not say,” I replied, ashamed.

  “Oh my God…” He enunciated each word out slowly. “Don’t tell me…Drake?” Michael inched closer to examine my dress. I rolled my eyes at him and he definitely knew. “Drake. Drake Stagliano?”

  “Yes. He’s making me have dinner with him in order to retrieve the contents of my wallet. Bastard,” I replied as I put on my heels and grabbed some earrings. If I was going to be forced to eat dinner with this man, he may as well be tortured by looking at me, knowing he can’t have me.

  “Genius.” He laughed. “He must have it bad.” He raised his brows at me. Too bad I wasn’t looking for anything. Not even something casual. Or was I? Perhaps I have just told myself enough times over the years that I’ve started to believe it.

  “Yeah, well, it’s the first and last time. I need to focus on passing my internship, graduating, and getting a job,” I retorted, grabbing my coat and purse. 7:50 p.m. He’ll be here any minute now. Shit.

  “Here let me help,” Michael said, taking my coat. He pecked me on the cheek and slapped my ass. “Go get ’em, girl!”

  My anxiety took over as I rode the elevator down to the lobby, fidgeting with my keys until I saw a limo pull up outside my building. Shit, a limo? I watched as the driver came around and opened the door for Drake. He re-buttoned his suit and walked to the entrance. I stood there waiting, both dreading and anxious to go through with this date.

  “Molly? I was planning to fetch you at your apartment,” Drake said as he approached me, never taking his eyes off me.

  Damn, those eyes were captivating.

  “Well, then I guess I saved you a trip, Mr. Stagliano.” I grinned, knowing exactly what he meant. This is not a date. I do not need to be ‘fetched.’

  “Such a delight.” He smirked, opening his arm up for me. “And please, you can call me Drake.”

  I could hear his amusement in the whole situation. I would’ve never agreed to dinner had he not held my things captive. He escorted me to the limo while his driver opened the door for us. I got in and immediately went to the far side, hoping to keep a safe distance between us.

  “Would you like some champagne?”

  I shouldn’t be drinking around him, but what the hell. “Yes, please. “Where are we going?”

  “My place,” he said firmly, letting me know it was not an open discussion. He turned away to fill my glass. “I have something special set up for you.” He smiled as he turned to look back at me. Great. Something special? I felt like I had missed the memo. And why did this require a cocktail dress?

  We arrived at his River North Penthouse and although the limo ride wasn’t completely awkward, the whole situation was a little bizarre. I hadn’t been on a date in years, but taking me to his place right away? That seemed weird. His home wasn’t anything like I expected. Drake is intimidating and powerful, but his home felt warm and comfortable. He offered me a tour after taking my coat, and I was too curious not to accept the offer.

  Wow, this man did have a warm side.

  He showed me through the foyer into the sleek, elegant kitchen. It was definitely suitable for a one-person home and was not what I had expected. It was large, yet it had a warm, inviting feeling to it. The refrigerator blended in with th
e shiny, red cabinets with thin, silver handles. It was definitely top-notch. I was almost afraid to touch anything. The dark lower cabinets blended well with the cherry wood flooring and the center island. There was a small, white breakfast bar with four white, contemporary chairs. I was especially jealous of the double ovens in the middle of the red cabinets.

  This was definitely a kitchen I would die to have.

  Drake watched my expression as I took in the phenomenal view. He knew this kitchen would excite the chef intern in me.

  “This is beautiful,” I remarked as I caught him watching me, waiting for me to say something. More like breathtaking.

  Just like him.

  “I knew you’d appreciate it.” He smiled as he took my hand to continue the tour. An open floor plan went directly from the kitchen to the dining area to the living room. It was warm, inviting, and elegant. The gray walls blended well from room to room, allowing the Chicago view in through the windows. I noticed a large painting by the living room table that accented the room perfectly.

  “Your home is amazing. It’s beautiful. Especially this view,” I gushed as I walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Wow, I could stare at this all day—the view, of course.

  “I’m glad you approve.” He smiled as he walked toward me and held out his hand for mine. “What I have planned for us this evening is up those stairs,” he said, motioning to the other side of the kitchen where a slender, modern staircase led up to the next floor.

  Upstairs? My brows raised. I don’t think so.

  I shot him a suspicious look, but reluctantly took his hand in mine. We walked up to the next floor and went through a door. A beautiful side balcony overlooked the Chicago Skyline. Above us were stars shining down and the reflection of the city lights. It was the most peaceful and serene view I’ve ever seen.

  He had arranged a romantic dinner setting for two. Although I felt awkward being here with him, the view made it worthwhile. In the corner, a stone fireplace was already lit, and the noise of the crackling fire made me feel at ease.