Page 12 of My Grumpy Alpha

There’s a large bed with a purple cloth headboard and plastic still on the mattress. I check the large walk in closet and while I’m impressed by the sheer massiveness of it, I don’t find pillows or blankets anywhere.

I still need to eat breakfast tomorrow, so I decide to sleep on the couch in the clothes I have on. I’m thankful I still have a bag of stuff I can grab from the shelter.

Speaking of, I need to go back and grab the one bag of things I have left there.

A knock suddenly sounds at my door.

Who even knows I’m here other than Gabe and Eli? I’ve covered my tracks well, but I still semi-panic when I walk to the door and look through the peephole. I see a person holding bags, tons and tons of bags, but I see no face.

“Get a grip, it’s fine,” I mutter to myself and take a deep breath, cracking the door open.

“Yes?”

“Let me in. I have your things.” The man sounds just like Eli but he’s wearing a black tight t-shirt, tight ripped jeans, a far stretch from the controlling billionaire I just saved from a hair. How did he even have time to find things?

Is he wearing sneakers?

I open the door wider.

“You must be the delivery guy?”

“Delivery.” He grunts and walks into my apartment like he’s been there a million times.

“But I’m not just some guy. Some might call me your boss, but you can address me by my first name. Get the stuff from the hall?”

“More things?” I asked.

“I’m very talented at ordering.” He drops tons of bags from various stores onto my couch and puts his hands on his hips.

“Or I guess you could say me and Gabe ordered you everything you might need and had it delivered.”

I can’t help it. I can’t breathe just staring at him. Muscles flex beneath his t-shirt and without the suit to make him look like every other guy in business—now he just looks like he needs to brawl with Jon Cena and get it over with.

A tribal tattoo is drawn down his left arm all the way to his wrist and stops. It’s simple and black, but it looks so intricate that I wonder what it could be?

His other arm is bare.

I stare harder. It’s a picture of the moon and water reflecting off of it, with trees surrounding it all the way down. Lettering I don’t recognize, maybe Latin? Etches itself down his forearm.

“What’s all this for?” I ask, shaking my head away from his body and reminding myself that he hired me to do a job, and I’d be a horrible person to do to him, what several bosses had already done to me.

I put my professional face back on and wait.

“Well…” He frowns.

“You didn’t get the rest of the bags from the hall?”

“How did you even carry that much?” I point at the stack of bags, there has to be at least twenty and they aren’t small. I quickly rush to the front door and look down the hall.

“Did you rob someone?”

He snorts.

“Like I’d need to. No, this is all provided by the company until the first paycheck. Food, cell phone coverage, clothing which I didn’t pick out because I didn’t have time but…” He hands me over a black titanium card.

“…you’ll go shopping during your two-hour lunch break tomorrow or if you give Gabe your measurements, we’ll make sure to have things delivered to the office for you to try on. We have a certain expectation of our employees, so don’t think of this as charity. It's merely how we run things.”

I don’t take the card. I shake my head and stutter.