Guardian My Love: A Claimed Romance (Bad Alphas Book 1) Read online

  Guardian My Love

  A Claimed Romance

  Skye Darrel

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Also by Skye Darrel

  Follow the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Skye Darrel

  All rights reserved.

  https://skyedarrel.com/

  First Edition

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter One

  Briony

  I get off the train at Union Station with everything I own stuffed in my backpack. The terminal is packed with people, but I feel invisible. A chill makes me shiver even though it’s summer. My head hurts. I must’ve caught a cold in New Jersey.

  I could’ve booked a flight to D.C., but I didn’t have the money.

  Until last month, I didn’t know how much it cost to live. My whole world had been a boarding school in Princeton, not far from the university. I never felt like I belonged, but I could say that about every place I’ve lived in. Mom paid my bills, and now she’s gone. She died of a stroke while I was studying for my finals.

  College is out of the question. Maybe I can get a loan, but I don’t know where to start. Four years at a fancy private school meant to groom me for the Ivy League didn’t prepare me for survival on my own. I can speak French, solve equations, and recite Shakespeare, but I don’t know how to balance a checkbook or find a job.

  C’est la vie. I can’t think about that now. Get home first. Then everything will be okay.

  Outside the train station, I spot a line of taxis waiting for customers. I doubt I could afford the ride. Getting a rideshare driver would be even more expensive. There’s a bus sign not far off. Baby steps, I tell myself.

  “Briony Rowan?”

  I turn to the voice and almost topple on my butt before he catches me. The man holds my waist until I nudge him off, though nothing about him makes me want to nudge. Tall, dark, and handsome comes to mind. Faintly exotic somehow. He’s gorgeous, black-haired, wearing a sleek gray suit with collar unbuttoned and no tie. A white pocket square adorns his chest. Trim and sharp, he looks like he walked out of a magazine.

  But good girls don’t let complete strangers grab them by the waist. I step back. “How do you know my name?”

  He’s still standing too close. Then he offers a hand. I shake it, blushing at how he stares at me, like he can’t decide if I’m trouble or not.

  “I’m Vincent. Mr. Baxter sent me.”

  “Garnet Baxter?” My uncle.

  “I work for him,” Vincent says. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “Um, thanks, but I can get a ride on my own.”

  “No you can’t. You have forty-seven dollars in your bank account. Your credit card is maxed out. You have no friends here, no other relatives. You don’t know the city. You turned eighteen two weeks ago, but you don’t have a driver’s license. Even that credit card was co-signed by your late mother. You can’t do anything.”

  He announces my problems like he’s reading a shopping list. The attraction I felt goes up in smoke—most of it.

  “H-How do you know?”

  “Your uncle gave me the basics.” Vincent narrows his eyes. “You don’t look well. Are you sick?”

  “A cold.” I get more annoyed by the second. He’s talking like he’s my daddy or something. Vincent looks around thirty if I had to guess. Fine lines mark the hard angles of his face, but he’s not that old. It’s his stern voice that has me on edge. I check out his eyes and can’t tell their color, but they’re light. Smoldering. Or maybe it’s only the afternoon sun. God why am I checking out his eyes?

  “Come with me,” Vincent says.

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll carry you,” he says without the hint of a smile. The way he glares brings back my blush.

  “I can take the bus.”

  “You’re not taking the bus. I drove an hour here to drive you home. You’re coming with me.”

  “How do I know you’re not lying?” The guy could be anyone. He could want anything. And he’s so very tall.

  Vincent hands me a business card. I’m no expert, but it feels expensive. Then I read it. Vincent Reed, Attorney at Law. He’s a lawyer at my uncle’s firm.

  I put the card in my pocket and frown. Vincent looks like no lawyer I’ve ever seen. More like a boxer, or maybe a movie lawyer. I can tell his physique is lean and hard even with the suit on. Stop thinking about his physique.

  “How do I know you’re not trying to take advantage of me?”

  Vincent makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl. “You’re not my type.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Little girl, I have no desire to take advantage of you. None whatsoever.”

  My face lights on fire. I won’t tell him off for calling me a little girl because maybe I am little next to him, considering he’s frigging huge, but does he really need to imply I’m hideous? I cross my arms, running on injured pride. “What’s your type?”

  “Taller, for starters. Shall we leave or do you wish to call the police?”

  I smell mint and coffee on his breath. “F-Fine.”

  Vincent takes me to a parking garage and pulls out car keys. A shiny BMW, black as his hair, blinks its headlights. He opens the back door and stands aside. I walk past and open the passenger door instead. Getting in, I put on the seatbelt while Vincent takes the driver’s seat. I stare straight ahead.

  Soon we’re on the road leaving D.C.

  By the time we hit the Beltway, it’s bumper-to-bumper rush hour. I feel way colder than I should, and a headache throbs behind my eyes. Pain squeezes my lower back. I’m definitely coming down with something, but the worst part isn’t physical at all. It’s the hollow, empty feeling that twists through my body.

  Loneliness.

  I can’t shake it off, and it’s suffocating. A longing for comfort and affection. Things I’ll never have, things money can’t buy. Not that I deserve them. I’m a broke, useless little girl who can’t even get home without help.

  The man sitting beside me stares at the traffic like it’s the most fascinating thing on earth. Fine. Whatever. Don’t talk to me. And I’m not that short, jerk.

  Maybe I’m just homesick. I missed Mom’s last moments, I missed the funeral, and I missed half her life while she missed all of mine. It was one nanny after another.

  Enough. I force myself to look out the window, counting the passing trees and the houses in the distance.

  “Are you okay?”

  His voice startles me. “What do you care?”

  “Look, I’m sorry if I was rough back there. I’m not good with people.”

  I huff. “You’re a lawyer and you’re not good with people?”

  “I’m sorry,” he says again, and he sounds sincere.

  “It’s fine. I’m used to people not good with people.” I steal a glance at him. The beauty of his face is almost unnatural. If it weren’t for his rugged jaw and coarse stubble, he’d be too pretty. I turn away. “Do yo
u know Diane Frankel? She was my mother’s lawyer. She told me there was a problem with . . . ” I trail off.

  “With what?”

  “My inheritance,” I murmur, cursing myself for thinking about money now. “She said something about assets frozen in a trust account.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. I’m here on behalf of your uncle.”

  “Well, what’s he like?”

  A moment passes before Vincent answers. “Don’t you know him?”

  “Not really. I haven’t seen Uncle Garnet since I was fourteen. I’m not supposed to go near him. I mean, my mother always said I shouldn’t. She never told me why.”

  “Your father?”

  I feel a hard lump rising in my throat. My eyes water, and I wipe them quickly. “He passed away when I was ten.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “I didn’t know him well. Come to think of it, I didn’t know anyone well.” A laugh chokes out of me. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

  “I don’t.”

  Silence settles. He’s probably saying that to make me feel better, but I can pretend he means it. The pain in my head softens as I lean against the window.

  An hour later, we get off the highway and enter the suburbs. Vincent follows a GPS mounted in his car. The closer we get to Mom’s place, the bigger the houses get and the more apart they stand. I drift in and out of bad dreams until Vincent slows down at last.

  “Your stop.”

  He parks beside the curb. Home sweet home. Except nobody’s home, the driveway is empty, and the lights are dark. I get out and hug my elbows, staring at the house I grew up in. There’s a blur of movement under a nearby shrub.

  “Anything wrong?” Vincent asks. He hands me my backpack.

  “Nothing. A squirrel.” I feel light-headed suddenly, and I sway on my heels.

  Vincent grabs my waist before I fall, holding me up. Then he touches my forehead. “You have a fever, Briony. Why didn’t you say something?”

  His words reach me slowly as if I’m underwater. All I can focus on are Vincent’s eyes, the movement of his mouth, and the feel of his fingers on my skin. He shouldn’t touch me like this. I hardly know him, yet he pulls me in, and I feel another heat between my thighs.

  A passing car breaks the spell.

  “I’m fine,” I snap, embarrassed and flustered. I have to push him off. “Thanks for the ride, I can take care of myself.”

  “Call me,” Vincent says. “If you need help. The number’s on my card.” He gets back in his BMW and frowns at me. “Your uncle wants to see you. Thought you should know.”

  “Okay.”

  He speeds off.

  I’m dazed. No man has ever looked at me like he just did. I must be imagining it. The fever’s messing with my head.

  I can’t be having silly daydreams. I need to sort my life out.

  Diane Frankel, Mom’s lawyer, called me last week. Diane said there was an issue with my inheritance, and I won’t be getting a cent until I come home. If I have any questions, I should contact my uncle. My mother’s will made Uncle Garnet my legal guardian, which makes no sense.

  Mom had warned me, right before she sent me to boarding school, to stay away from Uncle Garnet no matter what. I was only fourteen, but I remember that night like it was yesterday because that’s all she said to me. No I love you or I’ll miss you. Just a warning. She said he was dangerous. She made it sound like my uncle was a serial killer or something.

  I’ve been around him a few times when I was younger, and I admit, Uncle Garnet always made me feel uneasy. But dangerous?

  Diane Frankel wasn’t much help and told me she was sorry before she hung up. Since then, whenever I call her, a secretary answers to tell me she’s in a meeting.

  I don’t know what to do.

  This fever isn’t getting any better.

  My hand shakes as I unlock the front door, and a wave of nausea rocks my stomach. Then I hear rustling in the shrubs. A tiny cat with huge eyes and pointy ears pokes out of the leaves, scaring me half to death. The key slips from my hand.

  When I kneel to pick it up, the cat scurries up the porch and rubs against my arm. Under the fur, it feels bony.

  “Where’d you come from?”

  The cat wears a collar with Mia written on it. Okay, I guess it’s a she, and she’s barely more than a kitten. Mia paws at the door and stares at me. Mom never mentioned she got a cat. She always said pets are a bother. I used to wonder if she felt the same about me.

  “Locked out?”

  Mia licks my fingers. I’ll take that as a yes. Opening the door, I step into the gloom. Mia scurries in like she owns the place. At least I’ll have company.

  Chapter Two

  Vincent

  Twenty minutes from the house, I’m still rock hard. When I saw her for the first time, I felt something I’ve never felt, and I don’t mean the ache in my cock. My head is a fucking whirlwind.

  I tried to act like Briony didn’t interest me, and I succeeded before I dropped her off and saw the damp skin of her forehead. She looked ill. I needed to know if she was okay. So I touched her. I smelled her hair while I checked her temperature. The girl was burning, but by then I could barely stop myself from ripping her clothes off. My cock jerked up on its own. I wanted to steal Briony away somewhere and make her show me her pussy. I can still smell her scent.

  Fuck.

  I briefly consider driving back and taking what I want before I bite down the thought. I can’t remember the last time a woman made me feel this way.

  I’m concerned for her.

  I want to put her on a bed and make her scream.

  Fuck. This isn’t me. This is some beast inside me I struggle to hold back. She’s some spoiled brat I know nothing about. Briony means nothing to me.

  I grip the steering wheel, my cock straining in my briefs and leaking cum, and I floor the gas pedal. My phone rings, and I pick it up as I run a red light. Horns blare, but I don’t give a shit. The tension in my body makes me careless.

  Garnet Baxter’s voice douses me in cold water. “Did you pick up my niece?”

  “Yeah,” I say, irritated. “Briony is safe. I dropped her off at Amelia’s house.” Garnet has no shortage of chauffeurs and errand boys. But he sent me. I know Garnet trusts me above anyone else, but this was a delivery job, plain and simple. Then again, I’m fucking glad he sent me. I wouldn’t trust any other man under Garnet’s employ to get within five feet of that girl. I wouldn’t trust anyone.

  “Good,” Garnet says. “Pay me a visit, Vincent. I have instructions.”

  The line goes dead.

  I park my car in front of Garnet’s mansion in Potomac. Garnet Baxter rarely goes to the office nowadays, whether it’s the law firm or the companies he controls. He doesn’t need to. The law firm handles his business and legal affairs.

  Any sensitive matters, I handle personally. Garnet likes to say the pen is mightier than the sword, but with me he gets both.

  I’m a lawyer, yes, but I owe my career and life to Garnet Baxter. Garnet paid for my college and law school. He pulled me off the streets when I was a kid. He gave me a second chance at life. So I do whatever he asks, things I’m not proud of, and I don’t ask questions.

  Outside Garnet’s study, I see Kayla Dominic standing next to the door. A tall woman with cropped hair bleached blonde, she’s the head of his security, among other things. When the law isn’t enough, Kayla enforces Garnet’s will. I think of her as Garnet’s sledgehammer.

  “Mr. Baxter is expecting me,” I say, hurrying past.

  She holds my chest. “Not yet. The boss is with Janice. He’ll be done soon.”

  I know what that means, so I pace the hallway as Kayla tracks me with her hawk eyes.

  “Long day, handsome?”

  “Babysitting.”

  “You need to relax,” Kayla says lightly. “You need a woman in your life, Vince.”

  I glance at her. Kayla winks. Appearances can be deceptiv
e, and Kayla Dominic sums that up. Graceful on the outside, inside she’s a stone cold killer. I can admire that.

  She’s a survivor like me—we’ll do whatever it takes to get what we want, but that’s where the similarities end. She’s slept with half the guys working under her, and I don’t do relationships of any kind. Kayla’s never shown interest in me. She told me once it’s because she knows I’m not “that sort.” Whatever the fuck that means. Never been interested in her either.

  A shriek sounds from behind Garnet’s door followed by a woman’s laugh.

  “They’re almost done,” Kayla says.

  Fifteen minutes later, the door opens. Janice, Garnet’s executive assistant, walks out. I’ve heard rumors of what her real duties are, the same rumors that follow every assistant Garnet hires. He hires a new woman every year, and at the end of every December, he lets them go with a big bonus and recommendation letter. There’s another rumor that he only hires virgins, but I don’t see how he could know until a few months have passed.

  Janice sees me and her eyes brighten. I notice her slightly smudged lipstick.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Vincent.”

  “Not at all. You all right?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Take care of yourself,” I say stiffly. Janice is a nice girl who came from nothing, and I watch out for her as much as I can. She deserves more from life. I don’t like what Garnet does to her behind closed doors, but I owe him my loyalty so I keep my mouth shut. I still have trouble squaring the Garnet Baxter I knew growing up with the Garnet Baxter I know now. The man has two sides to him. But who doesn’t? Only two, if you’re lucky.