Free In Need Of An Alpha (Interracial Paranormal Shifter Romance) by Aaliyah Andrews

More from Aaliyah Andrews here.
     
    In Need Of An Alpha
     
    Mr. Lyndon buzzed me. Work was fine when he wasn’t around, which was most of the time with his busy schedule. Why did he have to come back just as I was settling in?
    Gathering my notebook of papers, I clasped it close to my chest and hurried down the long line of cubicles to Lyndon’s room. Before I reached it, I looked to Evan’s office. Heads bowed to their screens, the rest of the workers typed away mechanically.
    My heart quickened its already rapid pace when I turned to look. Whenever he left his door open, he drew looks from all the girls in the office. I was no different from them. I always looked.
    I faced Lyndon’s massive wood door. It was too late for Evan to show up.
    “Mr. Lyndon?” I asked meekly. I rapped on the thick wood a couple times.
    A grumble reached me from beyond.
    I took that as a sign to enter.
    Lyndon, slumped over his leather seat like a slug, eyed me with a sick, curious smile as I shut the door. Fear prickled at my skin, crawling up my spine. Thinking about Evan then meeting Lyndon brought me from hot to cold in an instant.
    “Amber,” he muttered.
    I was astonished he remembered my name.
    His office was spectacular. Huge, furnished in fine wood, with a wide view of the New York City skyline, but he didn’t ever have it open. Black curtains shut out all the light from the room. The only light came from a lamp in the corner and a desk lamp, casting an eerie glow on Lyndon.
    Greasy hair, yellow teeth, Mr. Lyndon smirked at me and puffed another drag of his cigarette. He put it out on the ashtray on his desk and adjusted his suspenders. It was against policy to smoke in the office, but he didn’t care. Visiting his office meant I was sure to walk out smelling like smoke.
    He could do whatever he wanted. He was a billionaire, owner of the I.G.T. Company, which created several popular media outlets, including some of the most important newspapers in the world. They had their hands in everything.
    I cringed just looking at him. My friends were all into the billionaire romances like Fifty Shades, devouring them like crazy, but I couldn’t get into them. Was it any wonder when I had a billionaire boss that looked like that? There was quite a difference between fantasy and reality.
    More like Fifty Shades of Gross….
    I couldn’t even smile from my so witty sense of humor. Okay, it wasn’t that great, but it still helped lighten the mood.
    If it was Evan behind that desk, I could get behind the craze. I wouldn’t mind staying at work late.
    “Yes, Mr. Lyndon?” I asked him. I feared the worst.
    He groaned and pushed up in his chair. He didn’t get that far. “You slut it up a little bit. That’s good.” He slid back down.
    Slut it up? Did I actually hear that? I attempted to remain poised. I knew what was on the line, my job, which I’d worked so hard for. Rage built up in me. Lyndon was very good at creating rage.
    Maybe it was a bad idea to listen to him in the first place when he advised me not to be so conservative in my dress. I stood in front of him now with a short black skirt and a black blouse.
    I showed a little more skin, but I would hardly call it “slutting it up.” It took every ounce of willpower not to smack him.
    “Turn around for me,” he said, waving his pale fingers.
    Oh, hell no. Did he want to check me out?
    Of course he did. I couldn’t be that naive, but it was better to ask him to clarify first.
    “Why?”
    “Turn around. I want to see.”
    “See what?”
    Anger rose to the surface. I couldn’t contain it. My nostrils flared and my lips quivered.
    “What do you think? I want to see that pretty mocha behind of yours.”
    Mocha. I hated that word. I was black. Not mocha. I wasn’t a damn flavor of coffee, especially not to Mr. Lyndon. I shouldn’t remind him of anything delicious.
    “No,” I said. I had enough. I needed to fight back at some point.
    My anger withdrew when Mr. Lyndon