Alphas & Millionaires Starter Set

By: Brooke Cumberland



“That’s my girl!” he exclaimed, smacking me hard on the ass.

I glared at him. “No, thanks.” I turned and continued making dinner.

As I was mixing the sauce for a basic pasta dish, I remembered a time I was cooking for Liam. He was at the kitchen table studying for his Freud exam and was reading Freud’s childhood history aloud. Freud was in love with his mother and felt a sexual pull to her. I remember laughing and teasing Liam for having to study theorists that were obsessed with sexual development and their mothers.

“Babe, our daughter will know all about Freud before first grade!” Liam teased. He read his textbooks to my stomach almost every night. It was so adorable. However, I certainly did not want our child growing up knowing psychoanalyst theories before kindergarten.

“Let’s just stick to numbers and ABCs.” I smiled back.

Liam was so excited to become a daddy. He lost his mother when he was only thirteen years old, and it affected him deeply. His mother was a drug addict and his dad tried to be there for him, but he was also grieving his own loss. Liam was ready for the responsibility even though we were young. We were in love and ready to start our family together.





* * *





Stella was in bed by eight, so I poured myself a glass of white wine. Drake flooded through my mind. Confusion overwhelmed me as I thought about all the personal questions he had asked me. It’s not like there wasn’t an attraction—any female would be attracted to that man. What was there not to like?

Well, physically, at least.

I couldn’t tell Drake why I didn’t want to have dinner with him. Losing Liam was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. After the heartbreak I’ve been through, I’ll do anything to prevent myself from ever feeling that way again. And the only way to do that is to keep men out of my life until I am emotionally ready to take the risk.

I was admiring the Chicago night skyline when a knock at the door startled me. Michael had already left for the evening, and I wasn’t expecting company. I pulled my fleece on, wine glass in hand, and peered through the peephole. My jaw dropped as I took in the view. There standing at my door was over six feet of pure perfection of a man. I managed to get the door open but didn’t realize I was staring until he asked if he could come in. I nodded and gestured him in, silently shutting the door behind him.

“Nice glasses.” His lips turned up in amusement, his eyes fixated on my mouth.

What a cocky son-of-a-bitch.

“Had I known I was expecting you, I would’ve dressed up,” I snarled back, faking a smile. Jackass. To avoid my lenses from fogging up, I wore contacts when I worked in the kitchen.

As he walked past me, I caught a hint of his cologne. His scent lingered in the air after he walked through the hall. It was strong and musky. It was inebriating, actually. I stood there for a moment, eyes closed, as I soaked up his scent.

I offered him some wine and as I grabbed him a glass, my mind turned over possible reasons why he was here. I had nothing. This was a new one for me. As I handed him the glass, his fingertips slightly brushed mine. My teeth pulled my bottom lip in as I waited for him to say something—like perhaps why he was here—in my house.

The air between us felt tense. Goose bumps appeared on my flushed skin and a shiver rippled through me. It was like an invisible yet tangible pull that I could not understand. Why was my body reacting like this? This feeling felt foreign, yet instinctual.

He smiled at me as he took the glass of white wine and gestured for me to sit next to him at the table. I complied and waited for him to start talking. He made me extremely nervous. My heart was beating so rapidly that I could barely grab the chair in front of me and sit down.

I tried to avoid his beautiful eyes, but they just sucked me right in like a wind tunnel. He wore a very fitted three-piece suit that looked positively delicious across his tone body.

“Like what you see?” He asked as he caught me staring.

“Excuse me?” I stumbled, shocked by his blunt comment.

“I’m admiring the view as well,” he replied, my nipples hardened under my V-neck tee. I was suddenly aware of how the fabric of my bra rubbing against them turned me on. I hoped he meant the Chicago view, but I seriously doubted it.

“You’re becoming quite the stalker,” I mocked, cocking my head to one side as I took him all in.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Drake defended. “I wanted to see you,” he replied with absolutely no regard for how inappropriate that sounded.

I’d read my fair share of lusty romantic novels in my day. Mostly when I was pregnant, and Liam was held up at school. I needed to distract myself from reality. So, I asked innocently, “For business or pleasure, Mr. Stagliano?”

“Pleasure. Definitely pleasure,” he said, eyeing me up and down.

I uncrossed my legs and was suddenly hyper-aware that I hadn’t shaved recently. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you there,” I smirked. I stood up to set my glass on the kitchen island, hoping he would read my cues. Instead, he followed behind and trapped me between the island and his rock hard muscles. I fought the urge to both push him away and lean in closer to him. His scent was riveting, and I secretly enjoyed him pressing slightly against me. I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek as the smell of white wine wafted toward me.

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