DIMA (Filthy Rich Alphas)

Oh, if I had the time. . .

The tip of my cock throbbed, aching to trace along her demanding mouth and witness the pre-cum spill onto her lips.

I bet she would lick it up and let me slip my cock into her with ease. How did she sound when she moaned? What did her pussy taste and smell like? How good would it be to cover her face with my cum and slide my balls over those soft cheeks as I teased her nipples between my fingertips?

Viktor disrupted the erotic movie playing in my head. “I'll go through these memory cards and give you a report.”

I nodded, still marveling at the reporter’s scent that still lingered in the air.

Wild Rose.

Vanya got in front of me and blocked my view. “Do you see how suicidal she is? No respect. I've come close to shooting her in the head twice.”

“Don't.” I continued to watch the reporter disappear. “If she comes back, call me.”

I would love to continue our conversation.

I looked at Viktor. “Find out her name, where she lives, and anything else.”

He bobbed his head. “You think she will be a problem?”

“We’ll see. A wise man said that every problem is an opportunity in disguise.”

Vanya frowned at me. “It sounds like your penis is hoping for an opportunity.”

“You focus on handling problems without my having to solve them.” I walked off. “And I’ll worry about my penis.”

She followed. “I didn’t ask you to help. I simply wanted permission to kill her.”

“Well, you don’t have it.” I headed away with the reporter’s scent and face still lingering in my mind.

When we made it outside, I pulled out my mini book and pen. I jotted down a quick note.

I’m going to fuck that reporter.

I closed the book and put it away.

Viktor opened the Phantom’s door. “Do you need a new notepad?”

“Yes. It’s been a long day.”

2

The Handsome Psycho

Rose

W

here is Xandi?

While investigative journalism ran in my blood and stoked a fire of passion within me, I hated being on television. For me, it was always a frightening experience. In this moment, anxiety sliced through every inch of my body.

The studio’s crew rushed around, fixing the bright lights and positioning cameras.

I stirred in my seat and focused on my breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four.

I’d stuck to a conservative look and wore a tailored coat, long skirt, and my favorite pair of pearl earrings—the ones my grandmother passed down to me. I put my hair in a nice bun and kept a natural look to my make-up.

Checking my watch, I searched for the show’s host, Xandi Wild. She was also my best friend. I’d been to the set several times when I visited her in Paradise. This was the first time I would be on the show.

Where are you, girl? It’s almost time to go on air.

Xandi’s chair remained empty. It was on the opposite end of the table.

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out of my purse. Thankfully, the show’s producer hadn’t moved it yet. I checked the phone.

Jonathan: I hope you have a great interview, Rosy.

I grinned at his horrible nickname and typed back.

Me: If you call me that again, then the date is off.

Jonathan: Dang it! Then, I shall never utter the nickname again.

Me: Thank you, and I hope you have fun on the campaign trail.

Jonathan: Speaking of Paradise’s election, have you registered as a voter here now?

Me: Yes, and you have my vote. I’ll talk to you later.

I hung up the phone and put it in my purse.

I can’t believe I’m really going on a date with him. Why, girl? This is going to be so weird.

Unfortunately, Jonathan was like a young version of my father—super ambitious and all politics. Many holidays he came to the Walsh Manor to celebrate with my family and make political connections. My father treated Jonathan better than my brother, Xavier—who’d dropped out of college years ago and was difficult to find or contact most months.

My mother had been pushing us to be together since Jonathan was first elected as Paradise Mayor four years ago.

The producer’s assistant, Maggie, rushed over. “I’m sorry. I have to put this in the guest dressing room, but it will be locked until after you’re done.”

“That’s fine.”

She hurried away with my purse.

Quietly, I sat there in the middle of the studio’s chaos. Unintentionally, last night’s events entered my head.

My first meet with the North’s top gangster did not disappoint. Dimitri Ivanov was everything I heard he was—an alpha male wrapped in a designer suit and dripping with vicious authority.

He’d towered over me. And there was not one inch of fat on him. Muscles made up his shoulders, arms, and everything else.

What I hadn't been told was how sexy Dimitri was. Everyone had left that out. His face could’ve been sculpted by the Gods. He was a handsome psycho—ocean-blue eyes that violently waved with threads of silver gray. Desire trapped in ice. I didn’t know blue could be so hot, but his was a lusty blaze. When he’d fixed that blueish-gray gaze on me, I felt like I was drowning within sin.