Locked In (Locked in Love) (Volume One): An Alpha Billionaire Romance by Myra Song

determination has driven it to the top, mortar by mortar.
     
    Bryce inherited an already booming business from his father. His grandfather had started it. It is a legacy business, and the world’s elite loved their legacies. For the moment, though, Locked In Securities is number one in sales.
     
    But Bryce held the title of “Uncrackable.” His top-of-the line home and business safe has never been cracked. It is the one he was using tonight.
     
    My newest safe will steal that from him. After tonight, if my plan goes smoothly, Bryce will be put firmly in his place as number two.
     
    Elise is closing in on Bryce’s security.
     
    I hope she busts their balls.
     
    As she marches up the steps, preparing to slip around a corner, I stand and straighten my shirt. She’s doing her job, to my delight.
     
    I have my own job tonight, and duty beckons.
     

 
    Elise
     
    The guys are dressed in tuxes. Whoever owns the third safe has the money to make sure their guard is properly attired.
     
    The only obnoxious part is their “Men in Black” sunglasses and ear pieces. The sunglasses obscure their faces. They’re also impractical indoors.
     
    And they make you look like a douche bag .
     
    Following one around a corner, I watch him enter a room. The door opens just wide enough for me to see a freaking refrigerator-sized monstrosity in the middle of the room. Obviously the safe.
     
    “You need to go back, ma’am, this area is off limits.” I jump, startled, and whirl around.
     
    A tall man in sunglasses is behind me, gently reaching for my shoulder. Shrugging away, I offer a smile. “No worries, I’m working the place like you are.”
     
    He doesn’t relent. As his fingers close on my shoulder, I grab his wrist, applying pressure at the soft spot. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to suggest that maybe I know what I’m doing. Oh, and to back off.
     
    “Whatever you’re doing at the auction, you don’t have permission to be here ,” he snarls a bit, withdrawing his hand. “Let me show you the way back.”
     
    “Actually,” I can hear the frustration mounting in my voice, “I have permission to go anywhere by Jameson Locke himself. So if you don’t mind, fuck off.”
     
    Okay, I’ll admit-- I’m probably escalating the situation more quickly than is necessary. But I really, really hate men, or really anyone, telling me what to do. And grabbing me. It’s in my best interest to slow my temper. “Look, just call and you’ll see. Elise Martin, Private Investigator.”
     
    He sneers. “P.I.? Really? What exactly are you investigating?” Then he frowns. “Unless he hired you to investigate Mr. Hollins--”
     
    Mr. Hollins? Must be the owner of the safe. Competitor, I think Dalton said.
     
    “What? Nope. Just here protecting the good, rich people of the world from would-be thieves.”
     
    His hand goes to his ear piece and his frown intensifies. I wait, tapping my sneaker on the marble floor.
     
    “Okay,” he says, but his voice sounds dubious. “You’re free to go. However, you are not allowed near Mr. Hollins’ safe. That room is under our protection, and no one may enter who’s not his personal staff.”
     
    I smile and shrug. “No problem.”
     
    Tall and Angry leaves me, heading back into the room. I catch him motioning to me, and several sunglasses turn in my direction. Winking, I head back to the party, making a mental note about Hollins and again thinking how dumb it is to allow so many different people guard an auction of this magnitude.
     
    After all, too many cooks in the kitchen, and all that.
     
    Caterers buzz by and I grab a flute of champagne. I’m not going to drink, not on the job, but I pretend as I waltz through the crowd to fit in. And, when people aren’t looking, I slip my business card into purses and pockets. Maybe not the most direct approach, but I’m getting a feeling I’m not used to.
     
    Intimidation.
     
    I grew up in wealth. But this… this is on a