Heat

by Steele, C. M.

  Heat

  C.M. Steele

  Copyrighted © 2020

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written expressed permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: C.M. Steele

  Cover Image: Deposit Photo

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Five more years

  Twelve more years

  About the Author

  Introduction

  In a mad dash to get through her hectic sweaty morning and make it to work on time, Violet finds herself struck by...a limo.

  Dazed but mostly unharmed, she's surprised when the passenger in the limo swoops her up and is shirtless.

  What kind of limo did she collide with?

  Pain and agony strikes Micah when he sees his little Violet in the middle of the street. Not even the third degree burn on his chest matters as he rushes to tend to her.

  This is a fast-paced romance like all in the Gimme Series.

  Chapter One

  Violet

  It’s the middle of summer, and yesterday’s rainstorm intensified the heatwave surging through the city. I swipe the back of my hand across my forehead as I mess with the A/C unit again. It conked out on me, waking me out of my sleep. My sheets are drenched in perspiration, so laundry day will be bumped up to tonight after my ten-hour shift.

  Fiddling with it for five more minutes, I throw in the towel and decide that I’m going to have to call someone to have it fixed or more than likely get a new one. The latter option probably being the cheaper one. Not that I can afford it either way, but who can stand the sweltering heat in the middle of Miami without the air conditioning? Even though it’s early, the sun scorches everything it touches.

  I can already feel the sweat sliding down my spine, coating the back of my tank top. If I didn’t need to go to work, I would just head to the beach and dive right in. Not an option today, at least.

  Groaning, I enter my bathroom to shower for the second time this morning. At least I’ll cool down briefly. It’s taking forever for the water to heat up, so I jump in and immediately regret it. The water’s like ice as it hits my skin. Son of a bitch. Another problem I don’t have time or money to deal with. Luckily this problem belongs to the property manager.

  Jumping out as fast as I can, I dry off and run into my bedroom. For a few seconds, I’m freezing, but the stifling heat in the apartment warms me up before I can get fully dressed.

  I find another pair of khaki shorts and a pink tank to slip over my underwear and bra.

  The Miami heat starts to take over my formerly chilled skin as I go on a scavenger hunt for my sandals. It takes me forever, so I find another pair of less comfortable ones and slip my feet into them. “These will just have to do.”

  As I was making my rounds in the hunt for my sandals, I didn’t see my brother, Matthew. Where did he go? My brother showed up two months ago, seeking shelter with me temporarily while making another stop through Miami. He loves his vagabond lifestyle, living off others whenever he can, takes no responsibility for shit, and I don’t trust him.

  Suddenly, I’m hit with a bad feeling. A ball forms in the pit of my stomach. Dropping down to the floor, I pull out a small coffee can with my emergency savings in it. Most people would find that foolish to keep it there when I could put it in the bank, but I refused to pay fees because I didn’t have the minimum balance required. I’d been hit with those kind of banking fees before, so I passed on a savings account.

  It feels too light, so I pop the lid and shake my head.

  “It’s all gone,” I gasp, falling back onto the floor.

  “Bastard,” I huff, shaking my head and doing my best not to cry. Not a single penny remained of the five hundred and twenty-three dollars I scrounged up.

  My useless brother has gone too far. I can’t believe I fell for his poor me act again. Where the hell is that prick? I’m going to strangle the fucker. He lost his job for the thirtieth time in the past six years. I’m the younger one, and he’s always been the screw-up. First, it was girls, then it was drugs and booze. He had addictions that were beyond healthy, but I’m done being there for him.

  He’s been living with me for two months now, and I’ve had enough, but a part of me is afraid to kick him out. I’m not scared that he’ll have nowhere to go. I’m petrified of what he’d do to me if I demanded he leave. He’s shown a side of him that frightened me several times. There was a dark look in his eyes when I told him to clean up his mess. He reached out and grabbed me by the throat, squeezing just enough to give me a taste of what he was capable of. I shiver thinking about it. I’m glad he’s gone. Hopefully, it’s permanently.

  At twenty-three, I’d barely existed outside of work. I have a handful of friends, a mountain of debt, and a severe case of loneliness. Not that he cared one bit about it. He thought I was selfish because I didn’t want to support his habits.

  I haven’t had a boyfriend since my brother was caught fucking my boyfriend’s mother. Our small town let me have it as if I’d been the heathen. I moved to Miami when I turned eighteen to get away from the life we had before. Although it’s not much better here because as soon as I feel myself growing, he comes around and kicks my feet from under me. No more. I can’t allow myself to be used again. I want a life of my own.

  My alarm on my old, cracked-screen phone goes off, reminding me to get out of the apartment before I’m late. I haven’t bought a new one because I figured it’s still got some life in it. My lovely brother accidentally knocked it off the counter last night after coming back and tweaking.

  I grab my phone, swiping off the alarm. Before I forget, I shoot the building manager a text to let him know about the icy water problem. Considering the heatwave, I’m sure no hot water isn’t a priority to him, so I’ll be lucky if he makes time to contact me before I get home.

  “Damn it,” I grumble; I snatch up my purse and keys and rush out my front door. As I’m darting down the stairs, I look through my bag for my wallet.

  I run back up and into my apartment, but it’s not anywhere to be seen. I look everywhere, knowing I never leave it out. Then I spot a difference, my brother’s duffle bag is gone. “Fucking asshole.”

  Digging through my purse again, I look for my bus card. I kiss the plastic with gratefulness since I can’t get to my job without it.
I am thankful that I don’t keep the card in my wallet. I stuff it into my short pocket, and I pull out a wash and dried ten dollar bill. “Score.” He didn’t steal every dollar I had hidden it seems.

  Rushing back out the door and down the stairs, I hit the hot pavement and walk quickly as possible to the bus stop three blocks away before I’m late and get canned from my job.

  I don’t live in the best area of the city, but it’s all I could afford, and I like it. I rush across the street without paying attention when the loud screeching of tires and metal happens. Before I can turn and react to what I know is coming, I feel the impact knocking me to the ground. Fuck, could my day get any worse?

  A crowd of onlookers gasp and fill the streets as they watch as no one attempts to assist me. Suddenly the driver of the limo rushes to my side. I should be flattened, but since I’m not and I don’t want to be late, I attempt to get up. He’s in his late fifties or early sixties, frantically assisting me to my feet.

  “Why the hell weren’t you watching where you were walking?” Because today’s not my day. He’s rude, but the color on his skin says otherwise. His hands shake as if petrified, and I can’t say I’d blame him. The thought of hitting someone with a car has always been a reason I hated the idea of driving.

  Someone steps out from the back of the limo as I try to keep balanced. A mere second later, I’m in the handsome stranger’s arms. I brush my hand to his chest for stability, and he’s shirtless. I dart my eyes up and release a sigh. Perfectly made, strong chin, just a hint of dark facial hair, and suddenly I feel weak.

  Chapter Two

  Micah

  I woke up this morning, resolved to find some relaxation while in Miami. So far relaxation has been elusive. After a quick run in the hotel gym, my assistant appeared with a list of things she had issues with, including her room at the hotel.

  The moment I step outside, I regret wearing a full suit and tie as the sun gives off a ridiculous amount of heat down here. Suddenly, Chicago’s winters were feeling much more welcoming.

  Winston holds the door open to my limo where my assistant is already waiting. The rental company allowed Winston to install tiny cameras at my behest. I have a feeling my assistant is not to be trusted. This is the first time she has accompanied me on a business trip, and she has shown why I need a male assistant instead.

  I look around the back of the vehicle and see something vital is missing. Before I can address the serious oversight, she begins her chastising. “This meeting is critical to landing the contract, Mr. Ryan.” Making my company another fifty million dollars does sound important, but so does my sanity, which I feel is slipping. Not that I’m going crazy, but my temper and frustration have doubled in the past month. At thirty-five, I’ve worked my ass off to become a billionaire.

  In the past decade, I can’t remember having a single vacation. My mother reminds me of it all the damn time, along with the ever-important question of “When are you going to give me some little ones?”

  Fuck if I even knew the answer to that one. I want kids, but I never met a woman I wanted to spend a lifetime with. I’m not the kind of guy to fuck around and have a baby mama without her saddled to my ass permanently. That idea disgusted me. My father had been that guy, abandoning my mother and me before she even gave birth to me. That life was out of the question for me.

  “I know it is, and yet my coffee isn’t in the fucking limo.” Of all the days for her to ruin my fucking morning. What is the point of an assistant that can’t do her job? I need a break, and Miami might be the place to do it. I’m supposed to be in town for the meeting, but I’m tempted to extend my stay.

  “Sorry, sir. The director at Initial Inc said they would have coffee prepared.” I’m not in the mood for her mistakes this morning. After working for me for six months, she should be well aware of what I like, at least when it came to the job. Her attempts to seduce me were becoming obvious. First she claimed her shower was broken and asked if I would let her use mine. Instead, I got her one on another floor. Then it was the accidental touches, falling in my arms twice in twenty-four fucking hours. I’ve no interest in her, but like many assistants, they all dream that the boss is going to fall in love with them.

  “Is it in my limo? No. Well, then I don’t give a fuck about their coffee.” I had a damn headache, and caffeine usually did the trick in the morning. “I’m not concerned about being late.”

  She checks her phone and then presses the button for my driver. “Winston, please stop at the Starbucks up ahead. Mr. Ryan would like his usual.”

  “Yes, Ms. Jones.” Winston has been with me for years and is a good man. He even installed cameras in my personal limo to protect me from gold diggers.

  He pulls off the main street and rushes out to get my coffee. “So, after looking over your schedule, you still haven’t given your RSVP to the Children’s Hospital Fundraising Gala,” she reminds me for the twentieth time. She thinks I’ll take her, that’s why she brings it up. The gala isn’t a big deal to me at all. It’s not why I donate to them. I don’t need to be rewarded.

  “I don’t need to go. I give the foundation the money they need, so I don’t have to show up.”

  “It’s better for your image.”

  “My image is just fine,” I lie. I’m known for being an asshole, an unsociable asshole. The last time I spoke to a female, she walked away in tears. They come to you flaunting all their goods, and when you don’t respond, they put their damn hands on you. It pissed me off, and I let her know that I didn’t want a slut for a wife so she could go find another rich cock to hook her claws into. She might have cried that night, but two weeks later, she was married to a man twice my age who’s a billionaire as well.

  I’m so fed up with my life, I want to retire. Shit, I think I might sell my company and find some other profession that’s not as demanding of my time. I don’t ever have to work again if I don’t want to, but I’m not sure I have it in me to just do nothing.

  Winston opens the door and hands me my drink. “Thank you, Winston. Please let’s get moving before I’m actually late.” I try to take a sip, but the fucking coffee’s burning hot and scalding away my taste buds. Souring my mood even more. It’s funny how the little things can piss you off when you’re already on edge.

  I open it to let it cool off quicker. As I’m about to put it in the cupholder, the limo screeches to a halt, sending steaming hot coffee all over me. “Son of a bitch.” My skin’s burning as I jerk my arms out of my jacket. I tear the buttons on my shirt, but the damage is done. I’m sitting in my limo, shirtless, ready to fire Winston for trying to send me to the hospital when I hear him jump out of the limo and shout.

  Fuck, I hope a kid didn’t run in the damn street. I step out, forgetting that I had no shirt on when I see him freaking out on a petite beauty he helps to her feet. I’m so fucked.

  I’m dashing toward Winston and to a young woman who has my heart doing flips. I want to say it’s because she’s hurt and I’m worried, but no, there’s more. My chest aches, and it’s not from the burn.

  “I’ve got you,” I grunt, scooping her up in my arms, cradling her to me. She’s tiny, barely weighing a thing, but I feel like I’m holding onto my entire world. Something about her soothes the angry lion with a thorn in his paw. It’s as if she pulled it out and suddenly made it better. She has a couple of scraps on her knees from hitting the ground and I feel like a bastard for being the one responsible for her injuries.

  I jump back into the seat, sitting down with her in my lap. I brush her long dark brown hair out of her face so I can see those gorgeous eyes. They’re a shade of blue that I can swear has a hint of purple in them. “Talk to me. Tell me your name.” She sighs for a moment and I’m worried that she’s hurt worse than she looks.

  Chapter Three

  Violet

  “Let’s get her to a hospital. Fuck. So sorry, love,” he shouts as the driver closed the door. I’m sure he’s said something else, but I can barely hear
him with the pounding of my heart in my ears.

  “Oh my goodness. Is she okay?” I turn to see a beautiful woman in a tight fitting business suit looking too sexy for a meeting. Then my eyes move back to my shirtless beast, trying to gather my wits. When I steal another glance I know the concern is just an act. The woman’s worried expression is faker than the cubic zirconia ring I usually wear to dissuade drunk men at work. I look down to see that I left without it, but apparently my brother snatched that too. He’s gonna be pissed when he finds out it’s not a diamond.

  “I’m fine. Just a little shaken,” I say, but I’m looking at the man who refuses to let me go.

  “Good, then you should go home. I’m sure you’ll be compensated properly,” she huffs while a low growl rips from his chest. I suppose I ruined her good time alone with the guy and he’s now in an extremely uncomfortable position.

  “You can set me down now,” I tell him, giving him a little push, but I end up brushing his broad chest.

  Another grunt escapes his lips and then he says, “No the seat’s wet.”

  “Damn, rich people are really kinky.” I arch my brow, getting grossed out that he has his hands on me after having them on her. I give him another push, but he only tightens his hold.

  A rich chuckle and a smirk come from him. He tips my chin with his thick thumb that I want to swipe into my mouth. What has come over me? “Sweetheart, that’s my hot coffee that spilled all over me when the limo hit you.” I look at the soaked white dress shirt on the seat next to us and see it’s dark stains.