Alphahole (Alphahole Roommates 1)

I shrug again. “Not sure why you thought you had a right to snoop in my phone, bitch. Not that it matters. I already sent them to the cloud. So, just remember, I have those, should you decide to try to fuck me over in any way, shape or form.”

Bella glares at me while yanking her skanky form-fitting dress over her head and she’s fumbling into her hooker heels, ass hanging out, when the door handle turns. Bella stabs her index finger in my direction, ready to say something, when the door creaks open and there’s a chick standing there, behind Bella, looking uncertain, having obviously heard some of the shouting from the hallway. She’s watching Bella pull her dress down over her purple thong. Bella glares over her shoulder at the newcomer.

The chick at the door is petite, curly light brown hair, olive skinned, big light brown eyes. Big tits. She looks to be in her early twenties, dressed in yoga pants and running shoes with a half-zipped black hoodie that blesses my eyes with cleavage spilling out of a tight orange top.

Shit. Is this the roommate my father texted me about late last night? Fuck me, but she’s got a great rack. Great face. Great body. Fuckin’ love yoga pants on a chick who clearly does actual yoga. I can’t remember what the text said. Can’t re-check it, either, given the state of my phone.

“Are you Ally?” She looks at Bella. “Want me to call the cops?” She jerks her head in my direction as if to offer to save Bella from me. She’s got a pink iPhone in her hand.

Bella flips her long dark hair with a flourish to untrap it from the neck line of her dress and glares at the girl. “Who the fuck are you? His next victim? Or his last one?”

The girl rears back, startled, brows jutting up.

“I am outta here.” Bella points at me. “You fuck with me, I’ll fuck you right back.” She looks to the chick at the door. “Sister, heed this warning. Don’t tango with that fucker. He might have that rich, hot, bad boy thing down pat, but he is a ruthless dirtbag dawg, and despite his skills and equipment, he won’t be worth the trouble.”

She grabs her designer bag and struts out.

I roll my eyes and throw the blanket off.

The girl watches Bella leave and then has her eyes on me as she drags a massive rolling black and white polka dot suitcase, a big purse, and a carryon bag in from the hall and shuts the door.

She looks at me with a mixture of horror and curiosity.

I lean forward and scrub my eyes with my palms.

“I, uh, I’m Carly Adler. I’m supposed to be sharing this apartment with Ally Kingston. Is she here?”

I head toward the breakfast bar. She jerks back a little bit, but I can’t focus on that reaction she’s having to my body, because the room spins a little. How much did I drink last night? I put fingertips to my temple and sway a little.

Too much. That much is obvious.

“I’m not sure if there was a mix-up with apartments, or…”

She takes one breath and then continues talking. Fast.

“Are you just here today or till tomorrow, because Ally is supposed to be here tomorrow, so I’m not sure if this is just an overlap, or ---”

“One sec,” I mutter, trying to stop myself from swaying.

Her fast-talking is making me dizzier.

I reach for the half full bottle of Booker’s and twist the cap off.

She waits while I take a healthy glug.

“Do you work for Carmichael, too?” she asks.

I set the bottle on the counter and look around for my smokes, catching her look at me. She’s trying to not assess my equipment, me being in nothing but my underwear, but she’s failing.

She keeps talking. “Um, I’d call the office to see if there’s a mix-up, but it’s Saturday, so I don’t know if…”

I take another swig and she stops talking, but then starts again.

“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning San Diego time,” she points out, staring at the booze bottle in my grip.

“Got a smoke?” I ask, not looking at her, spinning the cap on top of the bottle.

“Um, no. I don’t smoke. But, there’s a pack on the floor.” She gestures. “You’re not gonna smoke in here are you?”