Maceo (Filthy Rich Alphas)

“Christine.” My name came out as a low whisper, with no judgment or anger. He should’ve been annoyed. It was now five in the morning on a Sunday. I sat in my office. An empty tequila bottle rested on my desk.

“I lost,” I muttered.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you lose?”

“Something important to me … I think.”

“You’re not sure if it’s important?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never felt like this before.” I sunk deeper into my chair and set my feet up on the desk.

Empty shot glasses outlined my feet. They clinked together when I moved them with the heel of my foot. My brothers, Denise, and I had taken our party into the office because she couldn’t believe that Maceo had done the picnic, cleaned up my drunken mess, and organized my pigsty.

I rubbed my mounting headache away. “I lost.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I’m not a loser or anything.”

“Of course not.” Humor laced his words.

“This isn’t funny.”

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re mocking me,” I slurred.

“And you’re drunk. Will you be ruining someone else’s pants tonight?” Something about the way he said that made me uneasy, like a storm lay between each of his words.

“What would you do if I said yes?”

“I’d probably rush to where you are, find the guy that would try to take advantage of you while you were drunk, and then beat him senseless until your brothers could come and get you.”

“You’re a knight in shining armor type?”

“No. Just the fool.”

Silence passed between us.

This was more than I could take. Something intense remained unsaid. I could sense it as soon as he whispered my name. His whole demeanor had changed when he recognized that it was me who had called. And it had happened to me, too. My body had been full of anxious knots since he marched out of my office in a blaze of fury. Now, with him on the line, tension disappeared and my shoulders relaxed for the first time that week.

“Why are you drunk?” he asked.

“Don’t you have another question?”

“No.”

“Don’t you want to know why I called?” I asked.

“No. I know why you called.”

“Why?”

“You called because you lost.”

I swallowed in my fear. “I did, and I may have lost a lot.”

“Hmmm.” That sound vibrated through to my bones.

My panties moistened.

It was unfair.

I stared at naked, bulging men almost every damn night. The opposite species shouldn’t have had this power over me, but there it was, radiating out of Maceo, unadulterated sexual energy. It pulsed through the phone’s line and caressed my flesh.

“So why are you drunk?” A rustling sound came over the line after he spoke those words.

“Are you in bed?”

“I was. I just got up.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m putting on my clothes to help my friend out.”

Jealousy hit my chest. No matter how I tried to bat it away, it still remained swimming inside of me and stirring up murky currents within my heart. “Is this friend a male or female?”

He chuckled. “Female and really beautiful, but so much more than her looks.”

Grunting, I considered opening another bottle. “She’s really lucky to have you help her so early in the morning.”

“She’s worth it.”

I almost yelled out my disgust. “You move on pretty quick, huh?”

“What did I have to move on from?”

I refused to answer. It would leave me too vulnerable to break and be misused by him. I decided to change the topic of conversation. “So my brothers and my best friend challenged me to a tequila shot competition.”

“And how did you do?” The sound of jingling keys came next.

“I lost.”

“It seems you just keep losing this week.”

“Wow. Thanks for sugar coating the truth, there.”

“I do enough for you where I don’t have to lie or distort our reality.”

I rolled my eyes. “And what have you done? Is this about my plumbing?”

“No, it’s about everything else.”

“What?” I heard a door slam on his end. “Was that your house door?”

“Yes. You have good ears.”

“You got dressed pretty quickly to rush off and help your friend.”

“I’m just wearing pajama pants and slippers.”

I could only imagine every delicious curve on his chest, just glowing with the lightening sky. “Do you think your beautiful friend would mind you not having a shirt on?”

“She’s too drunk to care.”

“Aww.” Still not sure of who he was talking about, I figured she was a bitch. At least, I comforted myself with that fact. “So tell me about her.”

“There’s not much to say. She was challenged in a tequila competition. And you know how those things can go, right?”

Oh God. Tequila makes me stupid. He’s talking about me.

I held in my laughter. “She lost?”

“Oh yes. Thankfully, I have a certain weakness for losers. I’ve lost a lot of amazing women in my day. I’m just hoping I won’t lose her. I’m shocked she hasn’t forgotten me with the sea of men that swarm around her.”