My day hadn’t started off well.

First, there was the argument with my business partner, as we didn’t agree on one of the businesses we wanted to acquire—and he’d gone ahead and completed the deal, anyway. It pissed me off, because we were supposed to be a team and I was the head alpha. He knew this, but would always try pulling some shit like challenge me in business or other accomplishments, because he knew he was physically no match for me.

Andrew was an asshole at times, but he was still my business partner and cousin. The problem was that Andrew definitely had other ideas about what a business partner meant, because after our argument—in which I clearly stated I was right and he’d better damn well fall in line—he proceeded to walk out on me and deal with our newly acquired business in Paris, alone. To cool our heads, he suggested, though it was obvious he meant my head.

This meant I was stuck here, dealing with the aftermath of his decisions—and not liking it one bit.

What a fucking weasel move. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was family, I’d have fired him for that stunt. Maybe even kicked his sorry ass up and down the street for good measure.

We’d been in the business of acquiring smaller businesses and making them profitable for a good ten years now, but it had its ups and downs. This was definitely a down. I knew that my cousin was too talented for his own good, with an eye for what was going to be salvageable and what was hopeless—but it was rash decisions like this that had me often rethinking if even having a business partner was a good idea in the first place. I liked working alone. I didn’t like my decisions being questioned or being second-guessed.

Worse, I didn’t like my business partner representing our business without me.

I was going to have a good, long talk about this with him when he came back from Paris.

On my fourth day in the city, I knew I needed a distraction. I went to the nearest available bar, which happened to be the one in the hotel I was staying in. There I found a little, fuckable omega who was willing to flirt, but that wasn’t the catch—he also obviously wasn’t into commitment, which was the exact criteria I needed.

I got to know him. We talked for a short while, before talking turned to light flirting. He was a pro at it, and I could tell from his body language alone that he was very, very interested. Kyle was blonde and a model at that, but not the stick-figure kind of model. He had some junk in the trunk, which probably helped sell more jeans, I guess

And he didn’t mind that I was practically a faceless stranger with the looks of someone who wasn’t rich. I didn’t like broadcasting the fact that I was.

Truth of the matter was that I was filthy fucking rich.

Light flirting turned to heavy flirting, and soon I was giving him a kiss and tasting him with my tongue. He kissed me back eagerly.

But I wasn’t feeling anything. Just simply going though the motions.

There was no chemistry between us besides the usual interest I had at the fact that he was hot. But being hot in Hollywood was nothing out of the ordinary. I couldn’t feel anything in our kiss, which meant one thing. No boner for me.

Reluctantly, I pulled back. Perhaps I was just overthinking it. I decided to just go with the flow and keep the flirting going, and maybe he’d say something that would make me horny for him. Hell, maybe with enough booze and flirting, I could take him up to my room, where I could pound his omega ass.

With that thought in mind, I excused myself from Kyle and went to the front desk, with the intention to have my room cleaned before we went up. Some strawberries and wine were probably needed, too.

“Of course, sir,” the receptionist said. “We’ll have it ready in ten minutes.”

“Thank you.”

“We also have a package for you from Paris. Would you like to take it now, or…?”

From Paris. Andrew.

I took it. Then I opened it in the lobby, amused to find one of the most expensive Rolex watches in the world inside it. Crystal, too. Andrew knew I was pissed, and he was groveling. Good. I’d let it stew for a while before sending a thank you text.

I couldn’t show this to Kyle, who would definitely get the wrong idea. Deciding he could wait for a little longer, I went to the side hallway, intending to do a quick run up to my room before heading back down.

But the quick run wasn’t as quick as I wanted it to be.

Just as I was about to reach the corner, someone bumped into me—an omega someone, judging from the yelp. My watch fell on the floor, shattering into pieces. Damn it. Then the same omega voice was already babbling about how sorry he was, which for some reason only pissed me off even more.

“Yeah. You can start by paying for that,” I found myself saying. I looked up.

I recognized him right away.

It was the omega from the bar—the one who’d been watching me with a scowl on his face. He wasn’t scowling now. But my words definitely had an effect as he narrowed his eyes instead, the sheepish look on his face wiped off immediately.

I looked him over, realizing he was tinier than I’d initially thought. His head stopped at my neck. He was also very plain, with those dull khaki slacks and black top, and that light brown hair, styled in a no-nonsense side parting. Despite that, I was surprised to find that this little omega had creamy skin that looked good in natural lighting.

And he had the most deep-set green eyes I’d ever seen.

“Fine. Tell me how much that is. I’ll pay for everything.”

Ah. A snooty mouth, too. All I could think about now was stuffing something inside it!

“Fine,” I said calmly. I spouted off the amount, making it unusually high.

He didn’t even blink. Instead, the omega lifted his chin up. “My checkbook is in my bag. In my room. You can come with me.”

It wasn’t a request.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you can just kiss the payment goodbye,” he said sweetly.

Definitely a snooty, smart-mouthed omega. The sort that needed to be put in his place. Did he now know how to talk to an alpha with respect?

I was beginning to dislike this omega’s attitude bit by bit the more I talked to him, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I calmly rode the nearest elevator with him, where he pressed the fifteenth floor.

“You know, if you really wanted me to come to your room, you could have just said so,” I goaded in a low tone. I didn’t like how he was dismissing me so easily. I expected him to blush or turn uncomfortable, which was my intention.

Instead, he turned to give me the most withering stare. “That wouldn’t happen in a million years. Alphas like you aren’t my type. At all.”

Yes. He was dismissing me.

“Alphas like me?”

“Players,” he confirmed.

I frowned.

“Bad boys,” he added.

My mouth quirked. “So, you think I’m a bad boy?”

He shot me a look. “I think you’re an arrogant, delusional playboy who thinks he can get in any omega’s pants with just a few sweet lies and a flash of your bulging muscles. Sorry, but I’m not falling for it.”

Jesus. This omega was a piece of work.

“Who told you I was trying to get in your pants?” I asked in response. I tilted my head, still watching him. He was keeping his gaze pointedly toward the elevator door, as if willing the elevator to move faster. I didn’t know whether to be amused or irritated. “Buddy, you are definitely not my type, too. You can stop imagining me naked now. I don’t do spoiled brats.”

His eyes widened in shock. He whirled his head to look at me—and probably yell—and I grinned, prepared with my own comeback. Holy hell, this omega was fun to rile up.

But just as his mouth opened to speak, the elevator stopped moving.

Then the lights went out.