Her Older Alpha Read online

  Her Older Alpha

  Could things be about to change for this 40 something that is down on her luck?

  A sexy romance by Shanika Levene of BWWM Club. Features another free bonus book.

  Hadley is a 42-year old woman struggling to save her career and her home after a series of misfortunes.

  Just when she’s at her lowest point, she’s approached by handsome billionaire Jack Pittman !

  Jack offers her a job to work as a waitress at his prestigious club.

  Although he’s rich and famous, Jack lives a very private life. But he’s also a bit of a player!

  When an old coworker offers Hadley a marketing opportunity to scope out Jack’s juicy secrets by spying on him, Hadley readily accepts.

  But once she gets close to him on a business trip, she ends up falling for Jack instead!

  Hadley tries to stop his secrets from being leaked to the press, but when Jack finds out what she has done he pushes her away, leaving her devastated.

  Will Jack ever forgive Hadley and be open to love again?

  Or will they go their separate ways?

  Find out in this emotional yet sexy romance by Shanika Levene of BWWM Club.

  Suitable for over 18s only due to sizzling hot sex scenes!

  Tip: Search BWWM Club on Amazon to see more of our great books.

  Get Another BWWM eBook Free!

  Hi there. As a special thank you for buying this ebook, for a limited time I want to send you another one completely free of charge directly to your email! You can get it by clicking the cover below or going here:

  Direct link: www.afroromancebooks.com/love-bwwm-romance-books

  This book is so exclusive you can't even buy it. When you download it I'll also send you updates when new books like this are available.

  Copyright © 2017 to Shanika Levene and AfroRomanceBooks.com. No part of this book can be copied or distributed without written permission from the above copyright holders.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Bonus Book – Is This Love...

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

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  Chapter 1

  “No.” The man shook his head. He looked back down to his desk.

  “What do you mean, no?” Hadley asked. She raised her sculpted eyebrows in disbelief. “Mr. Coon, I just got here. I haven’t even said a word. You can’t possibly make a decision about hiring a marketing manager based on appearances alone.”

  “Oh, I can’t? I just did, sweetheart.”

  “You haven’t even heard my pitch.”

  “I don’t need to hear it.” He stood, and took several steps towards the door. Hadley was aware that he was escorting her from the office. She wasn’t even three feet into his space, and yet the interview was over. This couldn’t be happening. Mr. Coon, founder and CEO of the fastest growing modeling agency in New York City, was now at the door. He held it open to her.

  She refused to move.

  “I’m not a model, Mr. Coon. You cannot judge me on my looks.” She could hear a wavering and tone of desperation in her voice, and it frightened her.

  Get yourself together, she thought desperately before continuing.

  “You have no idea what I have to offer this company. Let me explain my marketing approach, which is based on --”

  He scoffed. “Let me stop you right there,” he interjected coolly. “You don’t look very wild. I thought… well, I liked the name of your firm, to be honest. Wilder Marketing. I expected--”

  “It’s my name,” Hadley said softly, pointing to her resume, which he had not taken from her hands. She felt the shoulder pads shift on the blazer she’d worn as she held the resume up. Perhaps it hadn’t been the best choice. The confidence that she’d felt earlier, stepping into the ivory colored slacks, belt, button up, and blazer was crumbling around her.

  “I’m Hadley Wilder,” she explained. She tapped the resume, and her gold colored watch jangled against the thick, gold bracelet she’d added on for good measure. She remembered choosing the jewelry and suit years ago, when Wilder Marketing was becoming successful. She had loved the way the suit complimented her dark, chocolate colored skin, and the gold jewelry brought out the warm, honey colored highlights she routinely had put in to her otherwise jet black hair.

  “I see. You’re not what I imagined. We’re looking for something edgier, fresher… a marketing firm that can reach the younger crowds. It’s just not you.” He did not wait for her to leave, but instead stepped out of the room before her.

  Hadley was left in the office, dejected.

  A firm that can reach younger crowds.

  That phrase had been spoken to her many times at many interviews. I’m only forty-two, she thought. What are they looking for?

  Her hand holding the carefully worded, crisp resume fell to her side, grazing her perfectly creased suit pants.

  Not me, apparently, she thought.

  This suit is old, she thought. Outdated. I shouldn’t have worn it. I’m outdated, she thought suddenly. She let out a sigh. Slowly, with a sense of weariness, she exited the office.

  The modeling agency was in Brooklyn, and she could sense that any moment now they would be moving downtown, into a high rise office space. But for now, they were skyrocketing to the top from the outskirts. And apparently, she was not going to be a part of that growth.

  She could not meet the eyes of any models sitting on the black, pleather chairs that lined the waiting room. Hurrying from the room, she descended three flights of stairs and stepped back out into a blast of sticky, July city heat.

  The Brooklyn air was thick with humidity, and Hadley fanned herself several times with the resume as she crossed the street.

  “Wilder,” she muttered under her breath. “What did she expect, someone in a lion taming costume to march into his office? Tattoos? A topless woman? I mean, what?” Her quiet rant stopped abruptly when she saw yellow plastic shackles around the wheels of her ten-year-old Honda accord.

  Shit, she thought, stopping in her tracks. A boot. Her unpaid parking tickets had finally caught up with her, and this was the result. At least I haven’t been towed, she thought.

  An hour of frustrating calls later, as well as the payment of $700 dollars in tickets and fines, she finally arranged to have a police officer come release her wheels. The ticketing office told her it could be up to two hours for the removal of the boot. The heat was cloying, and she thought of the cool waiting room. She hefted herself back up the stairs, and sank on a pleather waiting chair.

  The waiting room was filled with beautiful women. As the fastest rising agencies in New York, Coon modeling apparently also attracted the best talent that the city had to offer. Hadley felt out of place, to say the least, as she rested in the chair, allowing the layer of humidity that had settled over her to evaporate.

  For one thing, she wasn’t anorexic or bulimic, as many of the women seemed to be. For another, she was probably twice their ages. And for a third, she had on more clothes than any three of them combined. The model next to her, a woman that seemed to be composed of all legs, shoulders, and cheekbones, a
nd wore a dress that looked more like a nightie, was scrolling through her phone.

  “It’s nice and cool in here,” Hadley commented aloud, more to herself than to the model.

  The model looked up. “Thank God,” she said. “That heat is unbearable.” She looked Hadley up and down. “Are you here for the Channel call?” she asked skeptically.

  “No, no,” Hadley laughed politely. “I interviewed for the marketing manager position.”

  “Interviewed…?” questioned the model. “So it went well?

  “It went terribly. Didn’t get it,” Hadley said, looking to her lap. “But I’m having some car trouble outside, and I have quite a wait. Nicer to wait in here.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I really needed this,” Hadley said. It felt good to be talking to someone. “Well, there’s always the next one I suppose. You must deal with rejection sometimes too, in your field,” she prompted, hoping for someone to commiserate with.

  “I’ve been fairly lucky,” the girl said with a shrug. “But yeah, you just keep on applying until something goes right.”

  “Right,” Hadley said. It had been quite a while since things had gone right. Five years, to be exact. Ever since her sister and Wilder Marketing partner Schuanne had died and left Hadley at the wheel. Things had gone downhill, to say the least.

  The sound of footsteps floated up the stairs, and Hadley turned towards the outer door. Other models turned as well, and three men stepped inside. One was tall, in an army green baseball hat. The second was shorter, scrawny, and held a clipboard in hand. The third was large and bulky, and Hadley could immediately sense that he was a bodyguard.

  The tall, lanky man wore his baseball hat pulled low over his eyes. He was in a full suit that was ebony black and fit him perfectly. The white button up shirt beneath his suit coat was unbuttoned casually, and he seemed at home in his attire, and confident as he strode quickly and pointedly into the room.

  That’s how I want to look in a suit, thought Hadley, watching him move.

  She caught sight of his nose, chin, and square jawline beneath the hat. He had dark brown facial hair sculpted into a mustache, beard, and goatee. His skin was light but tanned, and she thought that he looked like he spent time in the sun. She could not see his eyes. He moved through the room so quickly that before she knew it he’d reached the other side of the waiting area, and was returning. The second man followed behind him, quickly leaning in towards the models that the taller man pointed to.

  Hadley found herself watching with interest, and was soon aware that the models throughout the waiting room were also watching and whispering. The two men strode around the perimeter of the room.

  The men approached.

  She watched the base-ball hatted man point casually towards a gorgeous model with red hair. As she’d seen before, the shorter man leaned in. This time she saw that he was handing the girl a business card. The girl smiled as if she’d just won the lottery. Other women were darting out of their seats, snapping photos with their phones, and then returning.

  Before she knew it, the tall, suited man was in front of her. He tilted his head up, and she saw his eyes for only a split second; then he walked on. He passed several more women in chairs, but then stopped short.

  He backed up.

  Hadley was surprised when he stood before her again.

  He tilted his chin, and this time as she met his eyes again they stayed on her for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and she broke her gaze. She could feel him watching her as she shifted in her seat, switching the cross of her leg. Nervously, she smoothed the creamy material over her thigh, taking comfort now in the conservative nature of her outfit. She felt as if the man was scrutinizing her, and was glad that at least she was covered up.

  “I’m not a model,” she said coolly. He must be another agent, here recruiting, she thought. Move along, she silently instructed him. Nothing to see here.

  “What are you doing here then?” the man asked.

  It had felt good to confide in the unthreatening woman next to her, but with this man it was a completely different story. She pursed her lips at the thought of telling him her situation: the failed interview, the car trouble.

  No, that was not the persona she wished to present to this man. She brushed her bangs away from her face, and looked back up towards his eyes. He met her stare.

  “Applying for a marketing position,” she said, her voice softer than she’d like.

  His eyes were dark, and deep. He kept them narrow, as if he was analyzing her.

  She felt a jolt of intimidation. It had always been her sister Schuanne’s job to handle intimidating people like this, not hers. That was why Wilder Marketing had been doing so poorly, she thought to herself. Dominant people like this.

  She saw the man reach up to his chin, rub his large hand against the short, well groomed facial hair that shadowed his jaw.

  “I see,” he said thoughtfully.

  What do you see? thought Hadley. It’s people like this, she thought, that have cost me my work, time and again. I’ve let myself be intimidated. She refused to look away from his eyes, and instead matched his stare.

  He turned to the shorter man who followed behind him, and nodded, pointing towards Hadley.

  “I’m not a model,” she repeated, but he had turned his back on her. .

  The tall man did not answer. The shorter man held a card forward, and Hadley took it, unsure of what else to do. As the men moved on, the model next to her leaned over.

  “You do know that’s Jack Pittman, right?” the girl asked.

  Hadley did not answer. She was reading the card. ‘Lion’s Den; 88 Broadway,’ was all it said. She flipped it over. There was an insignia of a lion on one side.

  “Hmm?” she said to the model.

  The model raised her eyebrows in disbelief at Hadley’s casual tone. “The billionaire? Jack Pittman?”

  Hadley frowned, thinking. She’s seen various articles about him, here and there, but never was one for celebrity gossip.

  “There’s been something recently, hasn’t there?” she asked.

  The model was looking at her as if she was crazy. “Yeah, last week. He was seen with Jada Locklove… you really had no idea?”

  Hadley could only vaguely remember seeing a photograph of the billionaire canoodling with the famous singer from the Netherlands. She shook her head, and picked her purse up off of the floor. As she opened the main pocket, she spoke, “Well, if he’s hiring models, he’s out of luck. I need a marketing job.”

  “I’ll buy that card from you,” said the girl. She was reaching for her wallet, and suddenly there were bills in her hands. “Shit, all I have is three hundred and fifty… I’ll pay you a thousand. I’ll send it to you. Do you have PayPal?” She was scrambling through her purse now, digging for a pen. “I swear. I’ll send it over from my bank right now.”

  Hadley gripped the card. One thousand dollars? What was this all about? She was reminded of a time she’d been at an estate sale and had picked up a lamp. Soon, as she browsed, there were a dozen women trailing her, waiting for her to set it down. That was how she’d known it was valuable, and she ended up finding out it was a Tiffany's collectable. She had the same feeling now. She took out her wallet, and placed the card inside.

  I may not be good with handling confrontation, she thought, thinking of her bold sister Schuanne once again. But I’m smart. Always have been. And this card is valuable. She returned her wallet and patted the purse.

  “I better hang on to it,” she said. “You never know. Maybe he saw something in me. Maybe I could take a modeling job.”

  The model was staring longingly. “It’s not for a modeling job. It’s for that exclusive club in the financial district. They’ve recruited here before. Sometimes it’s other men, but it’s the same pattern. They stroll around, pick out the models they want, and leave. I’ve just never gotten a card.”

  “Club?” asked Hadley.
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  “They hire waitresses, coat girls, cleaners, bartenders, masseuses. Every position -- at least that’s what I’ve heard. They train you once you begin… I guess they like things done a certain way. The club members come in and pick them out personally. I had a friend who was hired by Wyatt Lightman. She still works for him at the club -- she’s learning massage therapy and something else… she says it’s some kind of Asian treatment that she does with her feet.” The model shrugged. “She couldn’t tell me that much, but she says it’s better than modeling. And she spends a lot of time with Wyatt.”

  The girl watched Hadley for a reaction, but the name Wyatt Lightman meant nothing to Hadley.

  Maybe I am out of the loop, Hadley thought. I need to start keeping up on current affairs. Schuanne would have known who Wyatt Lightman was. Schuanne would have been familiar with this Lion’s Den.

  Suddenly, Hadley felt very old.

  The feeling was uncomfortable. Lately, it had been creeping in more and more, and she didn’t like how familiar it felt. Her twenties had been a blur… college, and then busting ass as a marketing intern. Then in her thirties she had started her own firm.

  She and Schuanne had been known as one of the best teams you could get; they even hired others and trained them. But when Schuanne had been diagnosed with cancer, and then passed away five years ago, things slowed down. Way down. As in… not signing on new clients and steadily losing the old ones. She’d fired all the employees. Now it was just her. And she was in her forties.

  Where the hell did the time go? she wondered.

  The young model had lost interest, and was back to her phone. No doubt spreading the news about the A-list visitor. I must be the only one in this room who isn’t posting a picture on Instagram right now, Hadley thought sadly. I’m certainly the oldest woman in this room. And the most conservatively dressed.

  Most of these women are showing so much skin… it’s ridiculous. I look nothing like them. What did Jack Pittman seen in me? Why did he pick me?

  *****

  Jack Pittman felt the car begin to slide gracefully from the curb. He watched the Brooklyn block flood past him as the Cadillac entered traffic and began picking up speed. His thoughts wandered back over the faces he’d seen -- and one in particular.