AN EGO TO MATCH
-UNLIKELY MATCHES-
BOOK TWO
GABRIELLE SNOW
Copyright © 2020 by Gabrielle Snow
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner.
Any similarity to actual people, living or dead, places, or events is entirely coincidental or fictionalized.
Table Of Contents
Prologue.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
PREVIEW OF KNOCKOUT
DESCRIPTION
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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Prologue.
SARAH.
"Mom, I'm out," I shouted as I whirled out of the front door and bounded down the stairs and through the driveway. Getting into my car, I looked up to admire for the ten-thousandth time, the house that stood before me. Our house was a 30-year-old elegant mansion with twelve large bedrooms and so many nooks and crannies, which I never got tired of playing and hiding in, growing up. The house held a lot of memories for me, some pleasant, some not so pleasant, and I loved it dearly. Throughout my college days, my mother made sure that my bedroom was dusted thrice every week, the sheets were changed every week as well, and everything was placed exactly how I left it, so when I came home for breaks, it usually felt like I never left. After finishing college, coming home just seemed like the right thing to do, and so that was exactly what I did.
It was one of those beautiful days with the sun high in the sky, and I hummed my favorite tune as I drove down the street and rounded the bend. I was going to Dee's to have my hair and nails done, and then I'd hit the store to pick up a few groceries for the house, since Hannah, who had been our chef for as long as I can remember, was a little sick. As I turned in to park in front of Dee's salon, I could see her through the window, fussing over the blond hair of one of her customers. Dee and I had been best friends since we were both six and while at twenty-one, I went to college, she stayed back, got married to her high school sweetheart, opened the beauty salon, and gave birth to beautiful Jennifer, who was my goddaughter.
"Hey Dee," I said cheerfully as I walked in.
"Hey, girlfriend! What took you so long? You called over two hours ago! Come over here, let me fix you up, you look like what the dog just dragged in." Dee was so keen on appearances, and it was very typical of her to troll me that way. She immediately asked one of her assistants to come to take over what she was doing and came to sit with me.
"Come on Dee, I don't look that bad." I chided, putting on a cute face.
"Trust me babe, you do, don't even get me started." She replied and teasingly raised her eyebrows. I pouted, and she laughed, picked up my left hand and started work on it. We talked about everything and nothing, which was what we always did. Four hours later, hair shiny and nails sparkling, I walked out of the salon, grinning goodbye to a pouting Dee, and made my way to the store.
As I drove, I couldn't help but admire my new look in my windshield mirror. Dee was such an expert at what she did, I thought, as I stopped my car in front of the store.
Walking into the store, Big Pete welcomed me with a warm smile.
"Hey, Big Pete, how are you today?" I beamed at him.
"I'm fine, little angel. You look so gorgeous," Big Pete complimented. He owned and attended the store, and had called me little angel since I could remember. As a kid, whenever our chef Hannah took me to the store with her, Big Pete would give me chocolates, and I would sit on the counter next to him and blabber away, mouth and clothes stained with chocolate, while Hannah did the shopping. I totally adored Peter, and he was one of my favorite persons in the world.
"Thank you, Peter, I just got back from Dee's," I grinned happily.
"Oh, I see. And how is she doing? And that little handful of hers?"
"They're both very well. Hannah doesn't feel too well, so I'm here to pick up some groceries."
"Do you need someone to help? I know how much you hate shopping," he asked with a knowing smile. I had never liked shopping of any kind, and I never did my own shopping by myself. Every single shopping session I went on always ended with a headache for me. But today I felt so good and didn't have so much to shop for.
"Thanks, Big Pete, but I think I can manage this one on my own," I said cheerily as I picked up a basket, and entered the store. Thirty long minutes later, and nursing a terrible headache, I miserably wheeled a half-full basket down the aisle in the direction of the counter.
"You should have just let Peter help, what were you even thinking to have said no," I muttered to myself, feeling lightheaded and tired. I neared the approaching corner and as I tried to maneuver the basket around it, I had a dizzy spell and lost control of it. The basket spiraled out of my hands and I crashed against something as everything went dark momentarily. I had no idea how much time had passed, but when I opened my eyes, a pair of intense green eyes were staring back into mine. It took a while for me to realize they belonged to a man, and that I was in his arms. As the realization dawned on me, I bolted up so suddenly that I hit his nose with my forehead, causing a pain filled grunt to escape his lips as he let go of me. I found my balance, looked around, and saw my basket overturned with bottles and packets scattered around the floor.
"What happened?" I asked, confused, and rubbed my forehead on the spot where I had hit his nose earlier.
"What happened!" He mimicked my words with a sneer as if he couldn't quite believe the question.
As he did so, my eyes took him in. Damn! The guy was hot. He was dressed in a dark t-shirt and blue jeans. Tall, well-sculpted body, brown hair, and deep green eyes, with a face that looked like it was framed after Lucifer's. Devilishly handsome.
I cleared my throat. "I am so sorry. I think I lost control for a while there," I said, suddenly feeling much more alert.
"You think?" He replied with the smirk still plastered on his face, then bent down and began picking bottles from the floor.
"Come on, I apologized already. You don't have to be so rude," I said as I rolled my eyes and wondered who he thought he was anyway.
"It's fine," He said dismissively and then simply walked away with his bottles in his hands.
The sexy bastard did not even help me pick up my groceries. Rude much?
"What happened, Sarah? I heard the crash." Big Pete's voice came in from behind me. I turned to look at him, and he immediately rushed to my side.
"You look like you just woke up from a bad dream," He exclaimed and then led me towards the back of the building, where he sat me on a chair, and told me he would be back. Only a few moments later he made his return with a cold glass of milk in hand and told me to drink up.
Forty-five minutes later, my groceries were sorted out and packed. Big Pete helped me into my car, and I drove the fastest route home. I entered the impressive house and dropped the brown bags on the kitchen cabinet, before walking up to my bedroom. After taking some aspirin, I laid on my soft bed with the purple sheets, and fell asleep in seconds.
I woke up with a start and immediately checked my bedside clock. The digi
tal screen flashed 10:22pm, which meant that I had been sleeping for about four hours. I hopped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. As I settled on the toilet seat, scattered images from my dream kept replaying in my head. I couldn’t remember exactly what the dream had been about—but without a doubt I could remember a certain handsome green-eyed man staring and sneering at me until I’d squirmed in my seat.
Chapter 1
TWO WEEKS LATER.
Michael.
"Hilda, do I look like I care what way you fill out the form? Just fill it out and let me have it on my desk by tomorrow, simple!" I thundered out at the little thing dressed in lemon and wine, trembling and staring at the ground in front of me. I had asked Betsy, my former assistant, and an excellent friend to get a replacement for herself when she informed me that she was going to be needing a month off for her honeymoon, and she had brought this clown of a girl to me.
"How did I even let her talk me into accepting her?" I muttered to myself under my breath. I did not particularly blame the girl—I realized it wasn't any of her faults that what happened happened. She was no doubt just a little girl Betsy had sweet-talked into working for a month to earn some money for herself. I blamed Betsy for stupidly falling in love, getting married, and then deciding to take a month off with her husband for their honeymoon. When Betsy had told me about her plans, I had been so shocked and desperate, that I had offered her money to call off the wedding. She had laughed in my face, turned down my offer, and gotten married anyway. Now, I was riddled with this assistant who couldn't even assist herself, who was terribly behind schedule, missing appointments, and answering over 50 telephone calls in just one day. I hated nothing more than disorganization.
"That will be all Hilda," I said with a softer tone and dismissed her. As she turned and walked out, I made up my mind to get another assistant—stat— , and then send this one to one of the other departments. I picked up my phone and called Will in Media and Marketing. I asked him to send an ad out to the papers tomorrow for a personal assistant and secretary and to send all applications directly to my email.
I checked my watch, it was past five in the evening and remembered I had made a promise to mom to have dinner with her by six. It was too late to avoid the closing hour traffic already, but if I left now, I figured I'd still be able to make it to Bethany's early enough.
I walked out of my office and took the elevator down to the garage and was soon driving out into the street. Keeping mother waiting was something I definitely did not want to do this evening, tired as I was, because once we started the evening on a wrong foot, it was usually a downward spiral from there. She'd start by complaining about how I placed family below work and had no life outside of it. I would reply and tell her that I did have a life, and that family, in fact, meant everything to me. Then she'd go on and talk about how I was nearing thirty and had still not introduced any girlfriends to her, and how one of her friend's son was going to be getting married in a few weeks, and to this, I'd keep quiet and concentrate on eating the food in front of me. Then she'd lower her voice to a whisper and say that I could tell her if I had no interest in girls, that she'd totally understand, and that it'd explain a lot of stuff, even though the answer she was hoping against scared her. And then I'd tell her no, mother, I do not like boys. And from there, it'd be one thing or the other, until dinner was completely ruined. Then she'd get into her car and drive off without saying goodbye, stay silent for about two to three days before calling again sounding like nothing had happened and asking for another dinner. I always said yes because I loved her so much; she was the only woman I ever appeased.
Bethany's Diner was just ahead of me. I slowed down to park and got out of the car, then handed the keys to the waiting chauffeur, and walked in towards my smiling mother seated on our usual table. She was a beautiful woman in her late fifties, with a body that still turned heads and an aura that commanded respect.
"Hey mother," I greeted her and leaned down to peck her on the cheek. "How are you?"
"I'm surprised you made it here at this time. I wasn't expecting you for another thirty minutes," she teased.
"Come on mom, give me some credit," I smiled and then asked if she had ordered anything even though I knew the answer would be negative. She never ordered anything other than a glass of water before I came, claiming that the longer I stayed, the hungrier I kept her.
I signaled to a waiter and we placed our orders and talked on into the night. After dinner, we both waited for our cars to be brought around to the front, exchanged goodbyes, and I watched as she got in and drove off, before getting into my car and heading home. As I drove, I thought about all the things that my mother kept saying about my work being my life. Although most times she said these things without meaning them, I knew that there was definitely some truth in them. The thing was, I had worked so hard to get to where I was. I wasn't about to throw it all away just so I could “get a life”, so I didn't have any relationships with women for longer than a week. I had only a handful of friends, and a reputation in the tabloids as a billionaire playboy. I loved my life, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Driving past Big Pete's Grocery Store, I felt the sudden urge to stop and go in for like the fiftieth time in the past fourteen days. Just like I did every single time, I prevented myself from stopping and kept driving on. As I did, I wondered what exactly had come over me that made me want to see the small-framed delicate beauty that I had held in my arms that evening some two weeks back. I recalled turning the corner and seeing her lose balance and trip. And how quickly I had dropped the wine bottles that I’d been holding—it was a miracle that the bottles hadn’t broken. I’d caught her just before she had hit the ground. Talk about perfect timing. I remember staring upon her sleeping face, looking so peaceful and vulnerable, and how I was so entranced, that it didn't even occur to me that she needed medical help. Then her eyelids had fluttered open and her huge, beautiful eyes that made my breath catch in the back of my throat had popped out at me. Almost immediately, I had felt like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. She had jerked up so suddenly that her forehead had hit my nose, rudely shocking me back to reality. The guilt I had felt immediately switched to anger, both at myself because I had no business feeling what I had felt as I’d held and watched her in my arms, and at her for cutting my moment of bliss short.
I parked the car in my driveway, and as I bounded up the stairs leading to my front door, I shut out thoughts of petite beauties and walked into the silent world I had created for myself.
SARAH.
"I’m telling you, Dee, it's been two weeks now, and I have had several different variations of the same exact dream," I screamed into my phone.
"Different variations! Same man, every single time I sleep, and when I wake up, I'm all flushed and can't get him out of my mind for at least the next two hours!" An exasperated me continued venting.
"Sarah, I think it is your mind playing games with you. You really need to stop fantasizing about this man. Go out there, meet someone, and get involved," Dee replied with an exasperated sigh.
"No, Dee, I think I need to get my ass out of this house and to work. I need something to do," I objected, very well aware that this was another of her ploys to try to get me on a date.
"Come on Sarah, you know you cannot work under anyone. You say that all the time!"
"I know Dee, but at this rate, I'd appreciate anything that gets me out and busy, for real," I grumbled.
"Sweetheart, I gotta go now, a customer needs me. I'll call and talk to you later. Till then, try not to have any dreams."
"Alright, Dee. Bye," I said into an already dead line and looked around the large dining hall I had wandered into during the call. It had an enormous table that could conveniently seat about thirty people. Why my parents had decided on something so colossal, I wasn’t even sure. We only ever used it when dad and mom held their bi-annual dinners, and friends and family would come along and congest the hallways and garden
s.
It was Tuesday morning. Two full weeks had passed since the incident with the man at the store, and every single night since that day, he had starred as the main actor in my dreams. The dreams were nothing close to unpleasant, but were beginning to get annoying, as I had no control whatsoever over them. Since I was little, having control over the things that happened to me, or at least knowing that I could assume control at any time I wanted, was a feeling I loved and lived for. Because of this, I had always been very skeptical about getting into a relationship. I believed that falling in love took away your ability to reason, and left you with zero control over your own feelings and actions.
"I need to get the hell out of this house," I muttered to myself as I made my way out of the hall, down the stairs and into the living room. I flopped on the nearest sofa and picked up the papers on the table next to me. Browsing through, my eyes landed on the job opportunities column, and an ad caught my attention. It read "Personal Assistant and Secretary Needed. Male Employer. Pay Negotiable.", and then went on to state the requirements needed for the job and the mode of application. Maybe it was a sign from the universe—a job that allowed me to control and manage someone else's life and even get paid for it. I just couldn't shake the feeling that this job could well be the much-needed break from my joblessness which was the root of my predicament. Immediately, I decided to apply for it.
Mom walked in on me grinning from ear to ear, and asked what was up. I filled her in on the details about the job ad I saw and how I had made up my mind to apply for it.
"Are you sure, Sarah?" She asked, shock and relief written all over her face at the same time. I knew that she and dad had been worried about my decision to stay home until I found something to do that didn't involve working under other people.
"Yes, mom. I'm quite convinced about this. I am going to apply right now, in fact," I replied.
An EGO To Match (Unlikely Matches Book 2) Page 1