Reluctantly Alpha (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 8) Read online

  Reluctantly Alpha

  The Barrington Billionaires

  Book Eight

  Ruth Cardello

  Author Contact

  website: RuthCardello.com

  email: [email protected]

  Facebook: Author Ruth Cardello

  Twitter: RuthieCardello

  Goodreads

  Bookbub

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Ruth Cardello returns with a hilarious addition to the Barrington Billionaire series.

  Connor Sutton never had a problem attracting women. Tall, blond, easy-going . . . all he had to do to get them into his bed was to stop saying no. He never wanted to be rich or famous, but when his sister married a billionaire, he became both. To fit into the Barrington clan, he had to make a lot of changes and although being rich is nice. . . all it takes to make him happy is a loaded pizza and a cold beer.

  Until he meets Angelina Kroll and discovers what it’s like to want someone he can’t have. Then she’s all he can think about.

  As a hardworking, single mother, the last thing Angelina is looking for is a fling with a movie star, especially gorgeous, broody Connor Sutton. She gave up believing in happily ever after a long time ago. When she’s unexpectedly fired, Connor offers her a job that’s impossible to refuse.

  He’s not the man she thinks he is.

  She’s not the woman she’d hoped to be.

  They’ve both left behind more than they wanted to.

  Will they discover fitting in doesn’t have to be all or nothing?

  Can they be rich . . . and happy too?

  Copyright

  Working Edition

  ISBN eBook: 978-1-7324201-8-2

  ISBN Print: 978-1-7324201-9-9

  An original work of Ruth Cardello, 2019.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Joanna and Aly. Both real life examples of the kind of heroines I write in my books—strong, intelligent women who make the world a better place.

  And little Betty, the mini-therapy horse Joanna rescued from a kill pen. She’s real and you can read about her here.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Author Contact

  Blurb

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Well look at who slipped in while I was counting the register,” a woman in her late fifties called out as soon as she spotted Connor Sutton in the corner booth of her family-style pizza restaurant in Queens, New York. She made her way to him through the otherwise empty restaurant, whistling as she did. “You look more important every time I see you.”

  Connor loosened his tie and stood to greet her. “And you, Ada, just keep getting more beautiful.” He held out his arms for a hug that she walked into.

  “Don’t let my husband hear you talk like that.” She was blushing when she stepped back.

  “He can have you,” her husband, Joel, called out from behind the counter. “Connor, tell her just because the doctor told me to eat better doesn’t mean I have to cut everything with any taste out of my diet.”

  Connor walked over and shook Joel’s hand. “I’d listen to Ada. She’s only trying to keep your sorry ass alive.”

  Joel nodded toward his wife and sighed. “Figures he’d take your side.”

  Ada gave her husband’s back a flick with a rolled towel. “Because I’m right.”

  He spun her around, dipped her over his arm, and said, “What did you say? Can’t hear you.”

  She clung to his shoulders, laughing. “I said I hope my next husband has the sense to listen to his doctor.”

  “Your next husband?” Joel growled something into her ear that had her laughing and swatting him after he righted her.

  The scene warmed Connor’s heart. His mother had died when he was a child and had been sick before that for as long as he could remember. Had his parents ever been as lighthearted and happy? He liked to believe so, although that was a time no one in his family spoke of.

  Behind Connor, the door of the restaurant chimed, announcing the arrival of another patron. All amusement left Joel’s face. Ada gripped his arm. Connor tensed at the heavy silence and spun on his heel, prepared to face down a gang leader or early afternoon drunk.

  He instantly relaxed as he recognized the friend he’d ask to meet him for lunch. “You made it.”

  “You know him?” Joel asked in a strained voice.

  Connor nodded. “Absolutely. Bradford get on in here and meet two of my favorite New York friends. Joel and Ada Fetter, this is my good friend, Bradford . . .” It was only then he realized he didn’t know his last name.

  Bradford removed his mirrored glasses and placed them into the breast pocket of his dark suit. He didn’t smile as he joined them.

  Beside him, Joel appeared small and intimidated. Connor flexed his shoulders. He didn’t like to see either of his friends uncomfortable. Bradford was what Claire would call socially challenged. People should be able to look past his scars and tattoos, and they would if he stepped out of his “I’m a hitman” persona long enough for them to get to know him.

  To lighten the mood, Connor gave him a hearty welcoming punch to the arm.

  Bradford didn’t so much as flinch, but he did give Connor a warning look.

  Joel’s arm tightened around his wife and they took a step back.

  Their nervousness only encouraged Connor. He held open his arms toward his glaring friend. “Don’t make me hug you.”

  “I would drop you to the fucking floor,” Bradford said in a tight voice.

  Connor chuckled. He’d only hung out with Bradford a few times over the past year, but the man had a dry humor that really cracked Connor up. “You could try, or you could smile and show my friends that you’re really a good guy who is here because you care about me.”

  Bradford looked from Connor to Joel and Ada and back. He flashed a smile that wasn’t reflected in either his eyes or his tone as he said, “I flew in from Bulgaria because you said there was a situation you couldn’t handle on your own.”

  “Bulgaria?” Connor waved a hand in Bradford’s direction. “Do you see why I love this guy? Bulgaria. I don’t even know where that is, but I said I needed him and he flew all the way back from there. That’s a good friend.”

  “That is a long way,” Ada agreed in a forced friendly voice. “You must be hungry, Bradford. Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll bring out some . . .”

  “Pizza. Plain,” Connor suggested with enthusiasm. “It’s kosher. That means—”

  “I know what k
osher means,” Bradford said.

  Of course he would. Bradford was well-traveled. Connor had needed Joel to explain it to him. “Well, then you know how challenging creating an authentic New York kosher pizza can be. People take food very seriously in this area. Ada makes her own mozzarella.”

  “Everything here is produced from scratch,” Joel added with pride.

  “Sounds delicious,” Bradford said. This time his smile held a bit more sincerity.

  “It really is,” Connor said. He took a seat once again in the corner booth. “Ada, two draft beers. Your choice.”

  “You got it,” Ada said. She delivered them in chilled mugs almost as soon as Bradford sat down.

  Connor took a good swig of his.

  Bradford did as well. After lowering his mug, he demanded, “What do you need?”

  Asking for help wasn’t something Connor was accustomed to, but ever since his younger sister, Viviana, had married a billionaire, he hardly recognized his life. In the small town of Cairo, Upstate New York, his family had been kind of a big thing. Confident. Well-liked. Not so much in the circles the Barringtons ran in. Especially not in the beginning. His plaid shirts and jeans hadn’t been good enough and almost all of his humor had been lost on them.

  After a year of working with Claire Wendell, accountability and life coach, he and his brother Dylan understood that they laughed too loud, drank too much, and often didn’t pick up on social cues. She was too kind to ever say it that bluntly, but Clay Landon had been brutally honest about why Viviana was constantly apologizing for Dylan and him.

  They needed to change or they’d always be the butt of everyone’s jokes.

  It was tough love not everyone could have handled, but both Connor and Dylan had been grateful for it. The last thing either of them wanted was to diminish any of the happiness their sister had found with Grant Barrington, especially since they’d started a family together. Little Sean would be raised very differently than the Suttons had been, but Connor wanted to be part of every bit of his journey.

  Clay’s blunt assessment of what would make that difficult had been a wake-up call, but it had been accompanied by an introduction to a film producer who had changed Connor’s and Dylan’s lives once again. Danger Doubled, a romantic comedy about two brothers who had fallen in love with the same woman, had made them household names.

  They were now both featured in articles as big-screen heartthrobs. Dylan as a badass. Connor as a genius doctor.

  Neither could be further from the truth. Over the years they’d indulged in a fair share of bar fights, but Dylan had never thrown the first punch. He didn’t like confrontation.

  Unfortunately, confrontation liked him.

  And Connor? Reading was a new pastime to him. He could recite complicated medical terms like a parrot, but understood very few of them. Claire had done a thorough job of creating a version of him that the public loved. Too good.

  Every new person Connor met assumed he was brilliant like the doctor he’d played. To maintain the illusion, he kept more and more of his thoughts to himself. Public perception was important if he didn’t want to embarrass Viviana again.

  Part of him craved the simplicity of his life before the Barringtons. His family had been easier to please, and he’d felt good about himself back then. Nothing he did now brought the same satisfaction as a hard day of manual labor on a construction site followed by downing some beers with his friends.

  There was no going back, though.

  As his family’s company had grown, it had changed. So had the way his old friends treated him. Relationships that had once been effortless were now . . . complicated. Some accused him of changing too much while others wanted him to suddenly have all the answers.

  I don’t have answers.

  I’m still just—me.

  If anyone understood what it was like to not fit in, it was Bradford. Connor cleared his throat. “This weekend I have a speaking engagement in New Jersey.”

  “And?”

  “Dylan accepted a role in a movie set in Iceland. He’s already on location.”

  Bradford simply held his gaze.

  Connor added, “Claire is preoccupied with wedding shit this week.”

  Nothing.

  Connor swirled his beer in his mug before saying, “I shouldn’t go alone.”

  “Because you’re receiving death threats?”

  “No. No, nothing like that.”

  Bradford frowned. “Then what’s the problem?”

  Connor leaned closer and lowered his voice. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “What?” Bradford lowered his own voice in a mockery of Connor’s. “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Speaking at Reemsly Preparatory Academy. It’s a private school. Those people are smart. They’ll ask me questions I won’t know the answers to. I can’t look like an idiot.”

  Bradford’s hands fisted on the table. “That’s your emergency? I flew back for this?”

  “I didn’t say it was an emergency. I said I had a situation I couldn’t handle on my own.”

  A low guttural sound was Bradford’s only response.

  Connor continued, “I’m a public figure now. I don’t want to be. My goal was to make enough money so the Barrington staff would stop thinking I’d steal the silverware.”

  “I doubt they believe you’d know how to use it.”

  “Don’t be a dick. I’m serious.”

  “I’m the dick?” Bradford rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Why am I here?”

  “I know you won’t judge me, and I need help.”

  “Oh, you definitely need help. I’m trying to figure out, though, why you thought I was the one you should call.”

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” Connor asked with a shrug.

  “I am. Can’t even argue that one.” Bradford chugged the rest of his beer then set it down with a thud. “What do you need, Connor?”

  “Advice. How do I get out of this without making Claire look bad or making a fool of myself?”

  “You probably can’t unless you let me put you in the hospital,” Bradford joked, even though his tone remained serious.

  Connor shook his head. “I’m looking for something less extreme. Plus, I like my face the way it is.”

  “Then you’re shit out of luck.” Bradford’s gaze was cold steel dipped in indifference.

  Impressively impossible to read.

  “I could use that.” All those acting lessons might actually pay off.

  “What?”

  “Your expression.” Connor sat up straighter. He narrowed his eyes at Bradford.

  “Are you fucking with me?”

  “No,” Connor assured him as he brought his brows together in a deep frown. “Tell me when I get it right.”

  Ada appeared at the table with a pizza and some plates. “Everything okay, Connor?”

  Instantly, Connor’s smile returned. “Perfect. Thanks, Ada. Looks great. I’ll have one more beer. What about you, Bradford?”

  Bradford’s only response was another of his dark looks.

  “He’ll have another too,” Connor said cheerfully.

  She was back in a flash with two fresh mugs. Connor thanked her again.

  “Your problem is you’re too fucking nice,” Bradford said once she was out of earshot.

  “Me? No. Ada and Joel are the nice ones. Dylan and I found this place the first week we were in the city. They made us feel like we were old friends even though nobody knew our names yet. They’re good people.”

  “Joel is jumpy because his son hung with a bad crew before they shipped him to Rhode Island to live with Ada’s brother. He’s in college now, but Joel’s had a few run-ins with his old friends. Seems that his son left without settling all his debts.”

  Connor’s mouth dropped open. “How do you know that?”

  “I make it my job to. The more you know about people the more prepared you are to deal with whatever shit they start.”

&
nbsp; “I can’t imagine the Fetters starting shit with anyone.”

  “But now if they do, you know where their jugular is.”

  Connor mulled that while digging into the pizza. He didn’t agree with how Bradford saw the world, but it also wasn’t the first time Connor had been told he was too nice. No one messed with Bradford. No one apologized for him or said he embarrassed them. Like a character study, Connor decided to borrow a little badass for the school function. “I’m going to say a few things I might be asked. Show me how you’d respond.”

  Between taking bites of pizza, Bradford said, “Shoot.”

  “What’s the planet that was downgraded to a dwarf?”

  “No one is going to ask you that.”

  “It’s just an example. I know there was a planet that was. I can’t remember the name of it. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t know. What do you do when people ask you a question you can’t answer?”

  After downing some of his beer, Bradford sat back and tapped his fingers on the table before saying, “Do you see the irony of someone like you speaking at a preparatory school?”

  Connor smile dimmed. “Claire set it up for me. The drama department requested my visit.”

  “You are quite possibly the least intelligent person I’ve ever met.”

  Connor frowned. “Hey, if you don’t want to help me, just say it.”

  “What’s your actual IQ? Can you tell me or is that another term you don’t know?”

  Sitting up straighter, Connor leaned forward. “Fuck you.”

  “Don’t say it out loud. Think it.”

  Fuck you, Connor thought before it sank in that Bradford was deliberately goading him to help him and his smile returned. “Got it. Think badass. Less is more.”

  “If you’re outgunned in a battle, you’ve got only two choices . . . run like hell, or keep them guessing what you’ll do. In a conversation, silence makes people uncomfortable. Use it to your advantage. Given enough time, smart people talk themselves into sounding stupid, and assholes give up because they prefer easy marks.”

  Connor nodded. “Thanks, Bradford.”

  “Don’t call me for this shit again.”

  Fair enough. “How about deep-sea fishing? Grant has a hundred-foot yacht he doesn’t use. I promised I wouldn’t party on it, but he never said I couldn’t fish off it. It has its own crew. All we’d have to do is bring poles, some bait, and a cooler. I hear there are thousand-pound bluefin tuna off the coast of Nova Scotia. Imagine the size of the sandwich we could make with that much fucking tuna.”