Page 23 of My Grumpy Alpha

Maybe I’m one of those people, one that nobody really cares about. Or maybe I’ve always been an orphan.

At this point, I need to just focus on the fact that I’m at one of the biggest galas of the year and I’m working. I’m here to support him, gather my paycheck, and attempt to look like his date without actually hitting on him.

My boss.

After just starting work.

Usually, I’m the one getting hit on, instead tonight, I’m the one with the dangerous thoughts, just shooting them in his direction like daggers.

Cameras are flashing everywhere, he grips my arm like he’s nervous about it so I hold still while what feels like claws dig into my skin, but that would be insanity, I’m just nervous.

He isn’t smiling.

He looks pissed.

I elbow him and smile through my teeth, whispering, “Smile.”

He looks down at me.

“I thought I was?”

“Your lips are barely moving, even when you’re talking to me.” I keep smiling and holding onto him as we walk down the red carpet, he waves, but his smile isn’t real it looks so fake that even not knowing him, I know it.

Not good for business.

Not good for networking.

Not good for any of it and the entire world is gonna see pictures of him, not to mention news channels, entertainment.

“What…” I keep smiling and lean up to whisper in his ear so it looks seductive when really I’m just petrified he’s going to be on the news in the morning for looking like a giant asshole.

“Will make you smile?”

He doesn’t smile for the cameras, but the minute I ask that, he looks down at me with a crooked, nearly delirious grin.

“I don’t think you want to know what just ran through my head.”

“Try me.”

“Sample, more like it,” he whispers and forces a half-assed smile.

“Better?”

“You’re like a marble statue.” Please don’t fire me.

“Just, can you, try?”

“If I smile, I’ll scare them,” he says under his breath.

“Your smile can’t be that creepy.” We both pause and stand in front of the paparazzi, he rests his hand on my hip pulling me against his side. His smile still looks forced, covered up actually.

I grip his hand rather than his elbow and hold it tight, then pull away from him and do a little twirl like we’re dancing our way down to the end.

It’s all I have.

He looks completely away from the paparazzi and follows me.

And then he smiles.