Liability
Authors: C.A Rose
ALFHA LAW
Liability
––––––––
By C.A. Rose
Copyright © 2015 Crystal Aurora Rose Reynolds E-Book and Print Edition
Cover and Cover design by Sara Eirew
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
Carter
I
know I shouldn’t be looking at her.
I know she is way too fucking young and innocent for me.
But every goddamn time she walks into her grandfather’s office in her school uniform, with her cute black-rimmed glasses, her thick red hair pushed away from her innocent face with a headband, her white button-down top tucked neatly into her green pleated skirt resting just below her ass, her long white socks hitting her mid-thigh, giving the occasional glimpse of creamy perfect skin, I have the urge to get up from behind the desk keeping her from me, push her down onto the cold surface, and ruin her for anyone else.
I want her.
No.
I fucking crave her.
“Carter, we’re going to have to call it an early night. Fern’s eighteenth birthday is today, and I promised I would take her out,” Mr. McCauley says, leaning back in his chair across from me and rubbing his hands down his face.
“And you’ve been working all week, Gramps. You need a break,” Fern’s soft, melodic voice chimes in as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“And I need a break,” he agrees, turning to look at her with an easy smile.
“That’s fine. I have some business to catch up on, so I’ll see you Monday,” I tell him, pushing away from the desk and slipping on my suit jacket.
“Have a good weekend, son,” he says, standing as well.
“Happy birthday, Fern.” I smile, giving her a wink and opening the door.
“Thanks.” She smiles back as her cheeks turn pink and her face dips toward the desk. Closing the door behind me, I wonder what the hell it is I’m feeling. Elation? She’s eighteen now,
legal
in every sense of the word. I can have her if I want to, and no one can stop me.
It shouldn’t make me this happy. I can have my pick of any beautiful woman—fuck, I’ve had most of the beautiful ones in this city—but I want Fern.
No. I
need
her.
Hitting the button for the elevator, I take it down to the garage level, where I parked my Bugatti Veyron this morning. Slipping off my suit jacket and tie, I toss both onto the passenger side seat before getting behind the wheel and starting her up. Hearing the purr of the engine, I back out of the parking spot, switch gears, press my foot to the gas, and speed up the ramp to the exit, using the mirrors at the entryway to judge the street before taking a right onto it. I should go home, but I need to drive. I need to drive and clear my head so I don’t track down wherever the fuck it is Fern sleeps and sneak into her room.
Hitting the highway, I head through the Bronx then out toward Westchester.
I’m going to have to find a way to get Fern alone. I know she goes to an all-girls Catholic school, but I wonder if she would freak if I met her outside when she got out of class. She probably would; she’s shy anytime I address her directly, and turns the sweetest color pink.
Getting off the highway, I head back toward the city. I do have some paperwork I need to get done before Monday.
An hour later, I pull into the garage of my condo and park just as my phone rings. Looking at the caller ID, I see it’s Britney calling and, sighing, I answer, “Hello.”
“Hey, baby,” she purrs into my ear.
I wish I could use her to get rid of this pent-up energy I feel, but I know my boy, and he won’t have it. He has a mind of his own, and since Fern walked into my life, he’s not interested in anyone but her.
“Britney, what do you need?” I ask, keeping it casual.
“I need you,” she whispers then my phone dings and a picture message pops up on my screen of Britney in bed, her legs spread wide.
“You need to lose my number,” I say, hearing her gasp as I click off her call and delete the picture.
If I’m going to get Fern to come to my bed, I’m going to need to make a few changes, and one of them is deleting all of the women from my phone and life. I don’t want anyone to ruin my chances of having sweet Fern under me or over me.
Taking the elevator up to the penthouse, I get off when the doors open and the view of the city comes into view. I love this place. I bought it for the view before there were even walls put up. When I designed the floor plan, I wanted to keep it open. The only walls are the ones around the two bedrooms, my office and the guest bath. It’s four thousand square feet of open space.
Moving to my room, I unbutton my shirt, laying it over the end of the bed, and take in the view through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that run the length of the room and look out over the city. I can imagine myself pressing Fern to that glass and taking her from behind, her innocent cries of pleasure filtering through the open space.
I need a shower and a game plan.
I’m not worried about Fern’s grandfather. Not yet, anyways. My biggest dilemma is going to be getting Fern alone so I can tell her what I want.
Carter
“H
ey, man,” I greet Spencer at the bar of the club with a pat on his back.
“Took you long enough to get here.” He smiles, giving me a one-arm hug.
“I was on the other side of town and wasn’t exactly planning on coming out tonight,” I explain, taking a seat next to him on one of the stools in front of the bar. I was going to stay home and work, but I need a drink. I have been at battle with myself for the last twenty-four hours, wanting to track down Fern.
“Still having problems with the Tensus case?” he asks, calling the bartender over with a flick of his wrist.
“Nah, we should be closing the case next week, depending on what judge we get,” I tell him, shaking my head. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see red flash in my peripheral vision.
My head turns, and my blood ignites with rage and desire as I watch Fern walk through the crowded dance floor, wearing a little black dress and heels that make her legs look a mile long and should be fucking illegal. Tracking her movements, I watch her walk to a table with a few other girls. All of them seem to be having a good time, but my girl looks uncomfortable and out of place amongst them.
“Do you know them?” Spencer asks, nodding toward the table my eyes are glued to.
Grinding my teeth, I nod then mutter, “I’m gonna get out of here.”
“You just got here,” he complains, but I ignore him, get up from the bar, and stalk toward the table of girls, who all watch me with lust-filled eyes as I get closer. Well, all except one set, which belong to a girl who has them pointed toward her lap.
“Hey,” one of the girls purrs, licking her lips.
“Fern,” I bark, ignoring the other bodies at the table.
“Carter,” she whispers as her head lifts and her gaze connects with mine. I watch fear enter her eyes as she looks around.
“Come on. I’m taking you home,” I growl, holding out my hand to her.
“I—”
“
Now
,” I thunder, making her jump as I pull her out of her seat and lead her through the crowd on the dance floor without giving her any other choice.
My jaw starts to tic, watching the men looking at my property with lust as we pass them. I have never felt anything like I’m feeling right now, and I know I need to get her out of here before I do something I will regret. Stopping, I swing her up into my arms, hearing her squeak as I carry her the rest of the way out of the club.
Pulling in a lungful of cool night air, I move to my car, setting her on her feet so I can open the door.
“Carter,” she whispers as I place her gently into the passenger seat and buckle her in. Ignoring her, I slam the door shut, jog around the car, get in behind the wheel, and start the engine, turning up the heat when I see her rub her arms.
“Where does your family think you are right now?” I ask her, knowing there’s no way in hell her grandfather knows she was going to a club.
“They think I’m staying at Alicia’s house,” she whispers, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
“You lied?” I ask just to clarify, seeing her face pale.
“No, I...” She pauses, taking a breath, and I feel my pants get even tighter as her breasts strain against the material of her dress. “I didn’t know they were planning on going out. I thought we were going to a movie and dinner.”
“How’d you get into the club? It’s twenty-one and up.”
“This,” she says, pulling a fake ID out of the little purse in her lap.
“Do you know how much trouble you could have gotten into if you got caught...what could have happened to you if you were left alone?”
“I know,” she says then tears begin to fall from her beautiful eyes, causing my gut to clench. Unhooking her seatbelt, I pull her into my lap and smooth my hand over her hair, feeling it for the first time, realizing it’s even softer than I ever imagined, and she feels even smaller in my arms than I thought she would.
“Hush, baby. You’re safe, and nothing is going to happen to you.” I rock her until she calms then place her back into her seat, helping her buckle up once more before putting the car in drive and pulling away from the curb.
“Um...Carter, my grandparents’ house is the other way,” she says softly, and I grab her hand in mine.
“You’re staying with me, beautiful.”
“What?”
“Do you really want to go home and tell them you lied about what you were doing tonight?” I ask her, stopping at a red light and looking at her.
“No.” She pales.
“I didn’t think so,” I mutter, pressing the gas again.
It feels like the ten-minute drive to my building takes an hour, and by the time we arrive, my hands are holding the steering wheel so tightly that I may have to get it replaced. Her scent is intoxicating me. I swear I can smell her fucking cherry from where I’m sitting, and I want it.
Getting out of the car, I command her to stay put and wait for me to come around and get her. I have never been one for dominance—I don’t play that way—but I need her to listen to me. I want her to follow any rules I lay out for her. I want her to do exactly what I say. I don’t even understand why it’s so important.
Opening her door, I drag her out and head toward the elevator with her hand held tightly in mine.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, knowing she said her friends had told her they were going to dinner, but they ended up at the club instead.
“Very, actually,” she says quietly, ducking her head so I can’t see her eyes, which annoys me.
“I want your eyes when you’re talking to me,” I tell her, pulling up on her chin until her eyes meet mine.
“Okay,” she whispers just as the door to the elevator dings, letting me know we arrived.
Stepping out of the elevator, I hear a gasp come from Fern. Looking at her, I watch as her face lights up when she looks around. I know she comes from money; she’s used to the finer things in life. Her grandfather is one of the wealthiest men in Manhattan, so hearing her gasp when seeing my place fills me with pride.
“Come with me,” I tell her, leading her through the open space toward the bedroom. “You can change into something else while I order us some takeout,” I say, walking over to my closet and pulling out a shirt for her to put on.
“I don’t mind keeping the dress on.”
“I don’t mind it either, baby,” I tell her while my eyes roam over her curves. When my eyes meet hers again, there is a stain on her cheeks that wasn’t there before. “But I want you to be comfortable while you’re here.” It’s a lie. All I really want is to see her in something of mine.
“Okay,” she says quietly, nibbling on her bottom lip again.
“What would you like to eat?”
“Can we get sushi?” she asks timidly.
“Anything you want,” I tell her immediately, and that’s not a lie; I will give her absolutely anything she desires.
“Just two California rolls and a ginger salad,” she says then bites her lip again. “And vegetable tempura if they have it.”
