Alphahole Read online

  Alphahole

  A

  contemporary

  bad boy

  romance

  By

  DD PRINCE

  Copyright: 2018.

  by DD Prince

  http://ddprince.com

  Cover Image - shutterstock.com - volodymyr

  Sign up for DD Prince’s free newsletter to get notified of upcoming book releases - http://ddprince.com/neswletter-signup/

  ***

  All rights reserved. This book may not be copied, duplicated, stored on any retrieval systems, such as on a file server, posted online, or shared by file transfer without the permission of the author. Only brief quotations /excerpts can be shared for review purposes.

  Book piracy hurts authors. Please show your love for books by reading through channels that support authors. Thank you!

  This book contains coarse language and sex. It is intended for adults.

  Synopsis:

  After getting a promotion and a transfer to a new city, I was stoked. New apartment. New job. New life far away from my old one. The asshole ex, my catty ex-best friend, my manipulating thieving sister. All of it. I’d had enough.

  E-N-O-U-G-H.

  I was over my old life, ready for my new and much more exciting one as Carly 2.0 --- a new and improved me.

  I get to the new city and my new corporate apartment and find it occupied, but not by the coworker roommate I’d been expecting. Nope. By a Grade-A Asshole Alpha Male instead. An alphahole. An alphahole that turns out to be the boss’s son! And I need to share the corporate apartment with him for the upcoming two weeks, until I get my next payday and can afford to move out. Can I survive it?

  Even worse, could I survive his declared war, his relentless efforts to rile me up any way he can?

  Bigger question: How can I survive the see-saw of alternately wanting to throw him over the balcony of our 17th floor apartment, and fucking the cocky panty-melting bastard’s brains out?

  Funny. Sexy. STEAMY. 18+ only.

  Dedication:

  To my readers who love the alpha-male asshole --- the alphahole,

  especially my street team - robin, heather, Renee, stracey, scharme, Rebecca, tai, Tina, Ann, Aphrodite & Barbie - XO

  HUGE thanks for all you guys do for me: XXX

  INTRO:

  I was writing a different secret book and hit a roadblock with it. My philosophy is that it’s better to write something else and break through the dreaded wall of writer’s block than to stare at the screen and leave fans waiting, getting zero words written.

  A few bullet points regarding what this story could be about was in my idea book and I decided to run with it and see if I felt any magic. I did. I fell in love. If you like jerky asshole alphas, you’ll probably get a kick out of this book. It’s got romance. It has comedy. It’s got steam. It also has the requisite DD Prince alpha. Aiden is infuriating. You’re going to effing love him.

  While getting it ready for you the past little bit I’ve been also working on some of the promised books you are waiting for, (including the original secret book), so don’t fret. More books will be along soon!

  Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this. I loved writing it so much that future books in this genre and maybe even this particular universe are a definite possibility, too.

  I present:

  Alphahole – a contemporary bad boy romance

  Alpha asshole office romance, meets roommate romance, meets enemies to lovers’ story.

  Yes, it’s all those things. It’s a slow burn story with some comedy and lots of sexual tension and heat. I hope you enjoy it!

  Please leave a review, even a quick one, if you do!

  1

  CARLY

  I get out of the cab, grateful I can finally breathe something other than a potpourri of body odor, garlic, and onions. I take in some San Diego air and look up at the architecturally impressive building in front of me. My new home; for at least the next three months, anyway.

  I fumble for the envelope in my carry-on and pull out a key as the cab driver rounds the car to open the trunk.

  The key was sent to me in interoffice mail two days before by the CEO’s admin. It’s a key is to my corporate apartment. I’ll share it with another new employee named Ally and I’m told she’s arriving tomorrow.

  I’ll be here for three months, minimum. If I have my way, I’ll be living in this city for the foreseeable future. I’ve been here less than an hour and I already love it.

  I feel a little like the twirling Mary Tyler Moore in the opening credits of her show, in the big city, looking around me and wanting to toss my hat up in the air.

  I’m not wearing a hat, so I opt for a big smile pointed at the sky. I’ve lived in a big city all my life, but this one? This feels like the fresh start I need.

  I am stoked about starting my new job on Monday. I’ll be an online marketing strategist for a business consultancy firm. It feels like I’m finally getting paid my due.

  I’ve worked my ass off since graduating college; interning and working as a peon for a marketing agency (now a subsidiary of this company) for almost three years. And now I’m here, in sunny San Diego, working at the new parent company’s head office, and making bank for three months, hoping it’ll turn permanent.

  If it doesn’t, and I have to go back to Buffalo…

  I can’t think that way, and I can already tell that I’m going to work my patootie off to make sure that doesn’t happen.

  The list of perks is good. Free taxis to and from work. I get to live rent-free for the duration of my contract. If I’m offered a full-time job after that, I’m sure I’ll need to find my own place.

  I’ll likely work fewer hours than what I worked back home and at almost three times the salary with more autonomy, and a whole new life.

  I wanted this new life. After all I’d been through lately? Heck, I needed it and cautiously told myself that I even deserved it.

  I needed to get away from Jon (ex). Away from Caitlin (sister). Away from Stephanie (ex-bestie). Just away.

  Before I arrived, I decided that this was gonna be great. I was gonna be a whole new Carly. The old Carly let people walk on her. The old Carly didn’t stand up for herself nearly enough.

  Now that I’ve arrived, I hereby declare myself Carly 2.0.

  No one but me needs to know that this new and improved version of me isn’t who I’ve always been.

  ***

  The cab driver gets my giant rolling suitcase from the trunk and as he hands it to me, I thank him, not at all thankful I’m getting caught in the eau du garbage can cologne cloud again. Whether he is making the car smell bad or the car is making him smell bad, I don’t know, but it isn’t pleasant.

  He hasn’t spoken on the drive from the airport; I’ve got no clue what his nationality is, but the tall and thin, nearly gaunt, olive-skinned 40-something man with the dark eyes has been stoic.

  I give him a smile. “Have a great day. Thank you again!” I hand him a crisp ten-dollar bill on top of the signed taxi slip that the company sent me, and he eyes the cash in his hand and then smiles back and his eyes are aimed at my mouth, then they move down to my toes and then back up to my head again. Eek. I hope he’s not about to ask me out.

  He hasn’t said a word, just driven, but now he’s standing there smiling at me. Creepily.

  I reach for the handle on my suitcase, pull it up and lock it into that position, heft my carry-on and my purse over each shoulder, and head to the revolving doors of the glass façade building.

  The cabbie is still oddly standing there, smiling at me. I wave and head inside, feeling a little unnerved at his friendliness.

  That’s the thing about me. I’m too friendly. Too trusting. Too nice. Or, that’s been me thus far. And that
’s why I’ve gotten walked on, screwed over, and treated like a doormat. Repeatedly.

  I’ve come here with a plan to turn over a new leaf. No more bullshit-eating Doormat Carly. After the storm I’ve just weathered, I’ve hit my limit. I’m done. That’s why I’m here. New Carly. New life. Bullshit-free.

  Hopefully.

  If someone pushes, I’ll find a way to push back. If someone gets in my way, no more rolling over and playing dead. Forgive and forget are now F-words in my vocabulary.

  I had a newly ex-boyfriend that took and rarely gave. For two years I was the giver, bending over backwards and doing backflips for him while he barely flexed a muscle.

  I have a sister who constantly takes advantage of me. No. Took. Past tense.

  Because, it’s over now. I’m not having it any longer. No more borrowing money and never paying it back. No more borrowing my clothes and ruining them without replacing them. She expects me to drop everything for her 24/7 whenever she needs me, but never giving me that back, not even when Jon broke my heart when he blindsided me and dumped me.

  Cait went to a concert instead. For a band she didn’t even care about. Yep. She left me crying into my ice cream tub because she’d already bought tickets.

  ‘Sorry, baby sis. I’ll be back in a few hours and we’ll burn all the pictures you have of him. Okay?’

  She came back to my place at four o’clock in the morning, only because she’s been evicted, so I’ve been letting her stay with me. She comes back wasted, and I put her to bed and she sprawled so much that I had to sleep on my couch.

  I’d dealt with garbage as an intern, then peon, where people took credit for my work and constantly dumped grunt-work on me. Come in early. Stay late. No credit for all my hard work and given the dirty work constantly.

  And I had a now ex best friend I’d caught talking shit about me when I’d thought she was my person the way Cristina Yang was Meredith Grey’s person.

  I was done. At least being a peon for the company was finally, finally paying off.

  I’d stumbled into the opportunity in an impromptu interview with the CEO of the new parent company who’d recently acquired us.

  He happened to be in our office the day after my bullshit meter had hit the limit. I’d considered calling in sick that day, but thankfully the trooper that I was, it paid off. Perfect timing getting this transfer. The only people I told I was going, beyond my coworkers, was my parents and three days later… I was g-o-n-e gone. The rest of them would figure it out.

  I had gone to a stylist and used my savings to get a makeover and new wardrobe so that I could be Carly 2.0 in San Diego. I hired some help and put my stuff in storage so that it wouldn’t be left at my apartment, sending an email to Stephanie right before I left, advising her that she had to be out at the end of the month, that I’d given notice.

  Stephanie Formerly-Dearest,

  This letter is to inform you that I’ve moved out. I’ve given notice and you’ll need to vacate by the end of the month. As my rent is paid until then, my sister can continue to sleep in my room, should she wish, though I’ve removed all furniture. Unless you want to attempt to ask her to leave. As much as she might be a junkie ho-bag, she’s also angry with you on my behalf so good luck with that.

  No-longer-dearest-doormat-Carly.

  The ‘junkie ho-bag’ and doormat comments would tip Steph off to the fact that I’d overheard her conversation where she trash-talked me.

  This had happened the same day Jon dumped me, the same day Caitlin had jetted off to her concert. But, it was true that she’d expressed outrage at Steph and would likely inform her of that.

  We called one another Dearest for years. Stephiedearest, Carlydearest. It was done now.

  Steph had been on nightshifts, so I avoided her for the few days before I left. She hadn’t even seen me, though she might have been weirded out by the fact that I hadn’t so much as sent a text about my breakup with Jon.

  Thankfully, the landlord liked me and had a renter lined up, so let me out of the lease without proper notice. The lease was in my name and I was the one who’d paid all the deposits and put all the utility bills in my name when we moved in.

  ‘Cuz I’m nice like that. Or I was. I’m too nice. Per Steph, a nurse who I overheard while she was at work when I stopped in to the hospital after it’d happened. It was after midnight, I’d finished the ice cream, and knew what time she got her break so I’d decided to go pop by, so I could cry on her shoulder. I was about to around a corner when I heard her voice. She was nattering with her coworker at the nurse’s station, (Tammy, who I’d also considered a friend, a friend who I’d driven to the airport, who I’d watered her plants for when she went on vacation, and so forth.)

  “No one is ‘that nice’ at least not if they have half a brain in their head. No wonder Jon got bored with her. I haven’t talked to her yet today, but he’s dumped her by now. She’ll be calling soon, absolutely stunned about it and wanting to cry on my shoulder. Looking forward to that. Not! No wonder her junkie ho-bag sister continues to take advantage. That’s life when you’re a doormat. Jon told me she’s as pure and good as the driven snow and bores him. To. Death. Is it just me, or have you wondered if Carly’s really a femme-bot?”

  Jon tried to phone me the night before I left for Sunny San Diego, leaving a voicemail and asking how I’m holding up, reiterating that he just didn’t see the kind of future he’d envisioned for his life with me and hoped we could be friends. The fact was, he’d already moved on. He was seen that same day by Sonia, a coworker of mine on a motherfucking date. He was with a coworker of his, the office femme fatale and she’d evidently set her sights on him and so he scraped me off like I was nothing.

  But I’d decided, after some shock and tears and the meeting with Mr. Carmichael the day after that, things happened for a reason.

  My ability to pick myself up and go to work the next day, my ability to function despite my broken heart led me here.

  And now, here I was. Ready for a fresh start. New wardrobe, a fresh haircut, and free. Free of Jon, and Steph, and Caitlin.

  Free for that fresh start without having to worry about leaving Jon behind.

  Time to finish booting up the new me. Carly 2.0.

  ***

  The inside of this building? This is a great first impression. Even better than the outside of it.

  We’re just a few blocks outside the San Diego Gaslamp Quarter and with how high up the apartment is, I’m thinking I’ll have an ocean view.

  The lobby is all glossy black and gold veined marble floors and walls with lush oriental rugs and sparkly crystal chandeliers. There are three brushed chrome elevator doors past a tall circular front desk that sits up on a platform. Behind the desk is a thirty-something balding and paunchy security guard who goes from appearing bored to giving me a double take. Or more accurately, he gives my chest the double-take.

  I’m dressed casually in yoga clothes, expensive new ones that I initially balked at, but they were worth the price as they feel fantastic on. I’d worn these, so I’d be comfortable on my flight, and I’d had the hoodie zipped, but I left home in cold weather and got here to sunshine, so I’d half unzipped it in the hot and stinky cab. My tank top covered my boobs, but evidently not well enough, judging by the hungry look on the security dude’s face.

  I smile and wave, bringing his eyes up to mine.

  “Hi. I’m with Carmichael Consulting International and I just got here. I have a corporate apartment, number 1710. Carly Adler.”

  I show him my key on a keychain with a brass letter C and a little plastic tag on it that says 1710.

  “Your keychain or the company’s?” He asks.

  “Theirs,” I say.

  “Carly. Carmichael. You know?”

  “Uh huh. Yep,” I say.

  “Not from here?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Just got here from the airport.”

  His eyes drop to my boobs again, then rise up to meet my
eyes. Creepy.

  I’ve been flirted with (I think) by a cab driver and a security guard already and I’ve only just arrived in San Diego. Too bad neither one of them is cute or interesting since I’m single for the first time in two years.

  A guy doesn’t have to be drop-dead gorgeous to get my attention. Of course it’s a bonus if he is, but he needs to at least be interesting. And not leer at me creepily.

  And hopefully not smell like he hasn’t had a shower in a month.

  Besides, I need a breather after Jon. I’m in no hurry to start dating. I’ve got to figure out this ‘how not to be a doormat’ stuff before I can open myself up to any sort of relationship.

  This security guard, I can already tell, is neither cute nor interesting. He holds up an envelope.

  “The company sent this over yesterday for you. Just need to see your ID.”

  “Thanks so much.” I start fumbling in my purse to find my driver’s license.

  “Welcome, Carly. Where ya from?” he asks, as I hand it over.

  Before I get a chance to reply, he glances down at my license. “Brrr.” He mock shivers. “Spent a month one weekend in Buffalo. Ah. See you’re a Pisces. I’m a Sagittarius. Two compatible signs.”

  I avoid the urge to sneer at the insult and avoid the come-on. And then I decide, fuck it, Carly 2.0 would sneer at someone being a jerk. So, I let the sneer out, belatedly. His laugh trails off and he straightens up.

  “Just teasin’. You need anything, just let me know. I’m Seth.”

  “Thanks, Seth.” I flip my caramel highlighted light brown curly hair over my shoulder with a bit of a bitchy flair, gather my ID and the envelope, then stride to the elevators and use my key to stab the button and make it light up.

  Thankfully, it arrives immediately, and I don’t look back at Seth the Sagittarius security douche.

  I’d had half a foot cut off my hair two days ago and added highlights and I still give myself a double take at my reflection in the mirror that takes up the whole upper half of the back wall of the elevator.