31 Days of Autumn
By C. J. Fallowfield
Kindle Edition
Version: 1
ASIN: B0197JJH8U
Copyright © 2015 C. J. Fallowfield
All Rights Reserved Worldwide
Any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations and places or events, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
I am a British author who writes in British English
Image Copyright © 2015
Editing by Karen J
Proofreading by Jasmine Z
Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
Book content pictures purchased from Dollar Photo Club, iStock & Shutterstock
Foreword
Thank you so much for buying 31 Days of Autumn.
This is the final book in the 31 Days Trilogy, combining romance, erotica, and humour. The series is designed to be read in the following sequence:
31 Days of Winter
31 Days of Summer
31 Days of Autumn
My website holds the most comprehensive information about me, as well as my current and up and coming releases.
Chapters
Foreword
Chapters
Prologue
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven
Day Eight
Day Nine
Day Ten
Day Eleven
Day Twelve
Day Thirteen
Day Fourteen
Day Fifteen
Day Sixteen
Day Seventeen
Day Eighteen
Day Nineteen
Day Twenty
Day Twenty One
Day Twenty Two
Day Twenty Three
Day Twenty Four
Day Twenty Five
Day Twenty Six
Day Twenty Seven
Day Twenty Eight
Day Twenty Nine
Day Thirty
Day Thirty One
Epilogue
Newsletter
Free Sample
About C.J. Fallowfield
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Coming Soon
Introducing
Prologue
Monday 9th August
I touched down in Heathrow and stretched my tired limbs. I hated long-haul flights, especially now that I couldn’t afford to go first class. Once I’d claimed my suitcase and cleared customs, I headed for a much-needed coffee and looked again at the headline on the newspaper I’d spotted and purchased yesterday. A headline that had prompted this last-minute flight to England. A picture of the billionaire former recluse, Oliver Davenport, with his new bride, Ellie Baxter, and their fifteen month old son. It was on every newspaper, probably all around the world. Reporting on his disappearance and continued rise to fame, along with his reasons for going public again, was a journalist’s wet dream. I’d known I’d catch a lucky break and find them at some stage. It was the only reason I’d come back. My lips curled into a smile. Suddenly my shitty life seemed a little brighter. I downed my coffee and carefully stowed the paper in my carry on, then caught the tube to Victoria.
I managed to find a private room in a hostel in Tower Hamlets, barely larger than a prison cell. Private room made it sound nicer than it actually was. It was fucking squalid. At least prisoners got a toilet and sink, I didn’t even get that. There was mould on the windows, the wallpaper was damp and peeling, and the brown stained carpet was threadbare. I inspected the single bed, expecting to find bed bugs. Instead, I uncovered a ripped mattress with broken springs and even more stains than the damn floor. The yellow duvet and pillows caused me to run to the communal shower room opposite to be sick, and the stench from the toilet made me heave even more. I’d sold most of my designer suits and shoes for cash when I was really desperate, along with my expensive watch and cufflink collections, so I had some money in my back pocket. I also had my carry-on with my laptop and a small suitcase that contained the rest of my life, namely a couple of pairs of shoes, some jeans, and all that remained of the designer clothing I’d kept back to keep up appearances. I unpacked it all and put in into the broken chest of drawers, carefully hanging my last remaining suit, in its protective clothes bag, in the wobbly splintered single wardrobe. I used to live in a fucking penthouse and stay in five star hotels and this was what I’d been reduced to?
I headed out and found a cheap stationers where I purchased a cork notice board and some pins, a pair of scissors, a hammer, and a hook. I then went searching and found a discount store, where I managed to get some cheap bed linen and a new duvet and pillows, before heading back to my dank new home. After stripping the bed and ditching the old supplies in a waste container at the back of the building, where a rat as big as a bloody dog shot past, I hung up the notice board. I carefully extracted the newspaper from my carry-on, smoothing it out on my lap. I slowly cut around the picture of them and pinned it to the centre of the board, then sat back on the bed and focussed on it. I’d been so tempted, after the last year, to just give up, not able to see a way out of this damn mess I was in. I’d lost my wealth, my apartment, my bloody Porsche, and my fiancée and there they were, all fucking loved up with their billions. If Oliver Davenport thought he could take what was mine, without retribution, he was in for a shock.
I opened my suitcase again, carefully cut the stitching of the lining in the corner, and pulled out my last stash of coke. I needed to get a damn job if I wanted another fix, and if I was going to come up with a plan to dig myself out of this mess. I tipped it onto the chest of drawers and used my debit card to form two neat long lines, then rolled a ten pound note and snorted it up. I sat back on the bed and sniffed, waiting for it to take effect. Pretty soon I was buzzing. I lurched over to the notice board, reached up, and traced my finger over her face.
‘So beautiful,’ I chuckled, then muttered ‘lucky bastard,’ as I jabbed at his face with my fingertip. Taking her would probably give me a pretty decent bloody payday, but to hit the fucking jackpot, I needed that kid. No one held back when a kid was taken, especially not when an emotional mother was involved. I’d lay odds on him forking out a damn fortune for his brat, especially if she was sobbing on his shoulder.
I chuckled again as I lay back on my bed with my hands behind my head, ignoring the spring poking into my back. At last I had a direction, something to focus on, a way to dig myself out of this depressing fucking hovel and back to the lifestyle I’d become accustomed to. I didn’t care how long it took me to find them, months or even years, I had nothing but time. I’d find them eventually. I’d track them. I’d play it slowly and work out their routines to find their weak points. Everyone had them, no matter how much wealth they had. Then, when they were least expecting it, BAM, I’d hit them right where it hurt and laugh all the way to the bank. I looked back over at the kid in the shot. He was my golden bloody ticket. And just for kicks, one last “screw you” for what I’d lost, once I got my payday, I wouldn’t fucking give him back.
Day One
Saturday 2nd September
It had been a month since I arrived back in England. Four whole weeks of li
ving in squalor as I tried to formulate a plan. I wrapped the duvet closely around me. I was absolutely freezing, I ached all over, and I couldn’t stop shaking. Fucking blow withdrawal, wrecked me every damn time. I was in desperate need of another fix, but first I had to get money. I was nearly out and barely had enough for food, let alone my various addictions, which had led to this bloody mess I was in to start with. I looked back up at my notice board, at the picture of the Davenports, my ticket to a better future. I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes. This was nothing, a short period of suffering that would pale into insignificance once everything came together. I focussed on my end game as I calmly breathed in through my nose, then exhaled slowly through my mouth.
To get my ultimate payday, I had to find them first. I’d made great progress now that he’d come out of hiding. The media had been full of his story, how he’d been involved in an accident that ultimately led to the death of his first wife. While they didn’t state where he lived, it hadn’t been hard to piece together a rough location. While his main technology labs were based in California, they’d cited that he was primarily based in the United Kingdom now, working from his London head office and his home. They’d named the Scottish hospital he’d been treated at, the specialist who switched off his wife’s life support machine, and the hotel where he’d married Ellie. The hospital and specialist were in Domartie, a town near Loch Airdrie, where the hotel they got married at was located. A check into his company holdings, which were public record, had soon revealed that he also owned a chain of hotels, the one at Loch Airdrie being just one of them. Of course, I was still working on assumptions, but it seemed too coincidental for all of those key events to happen in the same area if he didn’t live there. He’d have to fly from Davenport Technologies head office in London to Scotland, and the closest airport to the hotel and town had given me the third point in a triangular area where he was likely to live.
Money was key to everything. I needed it to either get clean or get another fix, and I needed it to get out of this hovel and into decent accommodation. I’d need it to start saving towards surveillance equipment, so that when he left his London office to head home, I could track him and find out exactly where he was based here and in Scotland. Once I’d found his houses, it would be easy to keep tabs on him. All I’d need then was a shit load of cash to recruit a team of well-trained mercenaries for hire, looking for a decent payout. Given the value of Davenport Technologies, anyone looking for a retirement-sized payday would snap my hand off to be a part of this. I just needed to get back in the game. I needed to clean myself up, then I could start approaching some of my old contacts and offer private consultancy work. The beauty of my area of expertise was that with a little luck on my side, I could make a killing in a relatively short time. Once the money started rolling in, I could start my plan of action. I ran my eyes down my notepad, checking my process. Not that I needed to read it, I’d practiced it over and over again until I could recite it by heart. It was like the landing lights on a runway, each one guided me one step closer to achieving my aim and reaching my destination.
Ten steps. Ten measly steps. That was all that stood between me and my shiny new life. It might take months, it might take a couple of years, but if ten steps were all it was going to take, I didn’t care. I could be patient. I slowly opened my eyes, looking straight at that photo on my notice board, focussing on that dark-haired kid.
‘I’ll be seeing you soon,’ I whispered, my voice a hoarse rattle from feeling like shit. I grinned, suddenly feeling a whole lot better. ‘Enjoy your time with your parents, because as of this moment, it’s limited. I’m going to make them know suffering like they’ve never known before. No one fucks with me or takes what’s mine and gets away with it. No one.’
Day Two
One year later ~ Saturday 1st September
Ellie
I woke up with a start to hear Oliver calling me over the baby monitor. I tried to sit up, but I should have known better. I rarely woke up without Dan wrapped around me like a vine.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Davenport,’ his husky morning voice whispered in my ear. His arms tightened around me as I smiled and gently stretched out my legs.
‘Good morning,’ I replied, twisting my head to kiss his firm bicep. ‘Someone’s awake.’
‘Yes I am, and a certain part of my anatomy is feeling very, very awake,’ he murmured. I closed my eyes again and let out a soft moan as his lips started to caress my neck, his obvious erection pressed against my backside.
‘So I feel,’ I replied, full of frustration that I didn’t have time to take advantage of that. ‘But I meant that Oliver’s awake.’
‘Jenny can get him up. I want to keep you in bed for a few more hours.’
‘Hours? My God, does your stamina ever wane?’ I giggled, still feeling the effects of our lengthy love making last night.
‘Never when I’m looking at you, baby,’ he confirmed, with a gentle nip of my earlobe. ‘You’re my Viagra.’
‘Well, your stamina is going to have to last a long time, as I need to go and get him up. It’s Saturday and it’s Jenny’s day off.’
‘Damn it,’ he moaned. ‘Let’s just have a quickie then.’
‘Oliver hungry, Mummy,’ came his insistent little voice.
‘Daddy’s bloody hungry, too, but not for food,’ grumbled Dan when he heard Oliver’s voice on the monitor. I tried to get up again, but he wouldn’t let me. I burst out laughing when Oliver started chanting “food,” over and over.
‘Too late. He’s wide awake now. I promise to make it up to you later.’
‘You’d better or I’ll never get you pregnant again,’ he sighed, kissing my shoulder and throwing himself onto his back.
‘There’s no rush, I’m only thirty-one. We have loads of time. Besides, our hands are rather full with two right now.’ I tossed the duvet back and sat up, letting my feet drop to the oak floor below, then looked back down at him and smiled. He’d shoved the duvet down to his waist and had thrown an arm up over his handsome, stubbled face. I drank him in, still wondering how I’d got so lucky to find a man like him. I had a lot to thank Zac for. Without him, Dan and I might never have met. His body was still in amazing shape, he worked out every day in the gym, as well as his daily swim in the loch, until it got too cold and he’d take up running around the island instead. I ran my eyes over his toned stomach and his six pack and firm pecs that I loved to run my hands over when I was on top. He was just masculine perfection. The haunted look that he’d had when I first met him was long gone, as was his guilt over what had happened to Rebecca and Moira. Oliver had helped him to relax so much, Dan just adored his firstborn.
It was hard to believe we’d been married for over a year now. It had gone so fast and so much had happened. The second extension on the house had been completed at the back, giving room for the new security team of Andy and Chris, who worked in shifts. Andy tended to accompany Dan on any trips out, while Chris shadowed Jenny and I when we were out with the children. Superwoman Jenny might be, but trying to keep tabs on an adventurous toddler, as well as an anxious mother and her six month old baby, was even out of her capabilities.
The house purchases and conversions in London had also been completed, which made things a lot easier when we travelled down there to stay. We also headed over to San Francisco for a couple of weeks at least once a quarter, for Dan to keep tabs on the progress of his latest innovation. He was working with the Department of Defence on some kind of new technology, which was so top-secret he wouldn’t even tell me what it was. I’d reluctantly had to give up my job as Junior Partner for John. My publishers wanted another book from me, for which I had a deadline. That, along with Oliver nearly being two and a half and a new baby, meant that my focus was split in too many directions. John had been so understanding and had virtually pushed me out of the door, knowing how hard I was finding it to let him down.
‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ I called, quickly getting up w
hen I heard Oliver asking for me again.
‘I wish I was,’ sighed Dan wistfully, making me laugh.
‘You still have a right hand in perfect working order,’ I reminded him. I snatched up a hair band off the bedside table and quickly pulled my long hair back into a ponytail.
‘Hardly the same as being buried inside you, Ellie,’ he retorted with an unimpressed glare as he lifted his arm off his face.
‘You’re telling me that sex is more important than feeding your own offspring?’ I teased, knowing that he wouldn’t have a comeback for that.
‘Bloody hell, woman. Go, before I drag you back to bed, and put some damn clothes on before I combust,’ he uttered, staring at my bare breasts.
I blew him a kiss and disappeared into the dressing room to pull on a pair of jersey shorts and a white tank top. Getting my babies up, preparing breakfast for us all, and then a shower, in that order, was my plan of action. Dan had no idea, but I’d asked Mrs. McAdams if she’d look after them later. I’d booked Dean to come in the helicopter so I could surprise Dan with a trip out and have some rare quality alone time. It had been our first wedding anniversary last month and he’d spoiled me with another trip to our honeymoon destination, so I wanted to do something to thank him for being an amazing husband and even better father. I headed downstairs, carefully holding the banister. My nightmares about my accident were long gone, but my fear on the stairs still remained. I wasn’t sure it would ever go away. I headed into Oliver’s room to find him standing up in his crib, rattling the bars. He broke into a big smile when he saw me and held his arms up.
‘Mummy.’
‘Good morning, gorgeous,’ I beamed. I leaned down and picked him up, giving him a big squeeze and plastering his face with kisses until he broke out into uncontrollable giggles. ‘So, you’re hungry again, are you?’
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