Between Moons (The Cursed Series Book 1)

by Lilly Cain

  Between Moons

  Lilly Cain

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by Lilly Cain

  Dark Redemption

  Between Moons

  Work has been the focus of Helen Mathews’ life for the last seven years. Determined to prove her father wrong, and that she is as good or better than a son would have been, Helen has sacrificed her personal life to make it to the top in her land development company. But putting the projects before friendship and love hasn’t been easy. Even when the project is as good for the community as a hospital, there are always losses.

  David Sherman is good at winning. He’s built his company from the ground up and is ready to play with the big boys. Or big girls, in the case of his newest development. Helen and her company are the perfect partners for his current project. She has the drive and the power he needs. If only she’d stay put and stop disappearing on him. Something is wrong and if there is one thing he can’t resist, it’s a puzzle. Or a weeping woman.

  When a Gypsy curse interrupts a life devoted to work, Helen must find a balance between the wilderness and the boardroom. But is there a chance for balance when David charges to the rescue? One thing for sure, Helen is no damsel in distress.

  Between Moons

  Lilly Cain

  ISBN 9781775212041

  Cover design by Candace Phillips Gilmer

  Flirtation Designs

  Discover other titles by Lilly Cain www.lillycain.com

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To my family, Emma and Katherine especially, who are more patient than I am. And to my writing friends, Sara, Renee, Cathy, and Donna, who push me to do more. Thank you for being there.

  Prologue

  “We’d like to congratulate Ms. Mathews on her recent closure of the largest deal this firm has seen in ten years. Raise your glasses and toast our sharpest nose for business, our shark in these shallow market waters, Ms. Helen Mathews!”

  It was a perfect moment. The entire company had gathered to celebrate her promotion to partner, something she’d worked toward for the last few years with little time for anything else. She had the full attention of the company owner. She looked fantastic, and the room was filled with white linen-draped tables topped with crystal and candles. The food was picture perfect, even if she couldn’t bring herself to taste it. Her stomach twisted as she waited for his toast to continue and the announcement to be made.

  Henry Winfield, President of Multoma, raised his glass of champagne and smiled at the gathered executives at the head table. In turn, they raised their glasses and smiled, although to most observers it probably looked more like the baring of teeth in a pack of wolves, with none willing to show a moment’s weakness.

  As Helen rose to accept her accolades, a disturbance at the back of the room drew the focus away from her and toward a small group of people. Two young men dressed in jeans and leather jackets pushed their way through the employees gathered in the hotel convention room, making way for an older woman. They rushed to reach the head table where Helen stood and the Board of Directors of Multoma Development International sat.

  As they approached, the two men flanked the oddly dressed older woman. She seemed familiar, but Helen couldn’t quite place her. A long, full skirt fell to her ankles, with a ruby scarf providing a brilliant splash of color between the skirt and her white blouse. She was weighted down with rings on every finger. Her hair was gray, but she wore it simply pulled back from her face, the long waves falling past her shoulders. Her black eyes flashed at Helen, and her sneering smile was cold.

  “Ms. Mathews.” The old woman spoke, her clear voice belying any trace of age and certainly reaching all the corners of the room. “It is good to see that you’re being recognized as the shark that you are—a predator that would eat its own young.”

  A collective gasp rippled through the room. Helen sucked in a breath, and lifted her chin in indignation. Heat rushed to her face and she could imagine the redness creeping toward her neckline when she heard a few tittering laughs somewhere toward the back of the gathering. Annoyance had her gritting her teeth as she struggled to produce her usual professional smile. Already there were motions indicating that security had been called, so Helen remained standing, facing the odd group.

  “Many thanks for the compliment.” Helen controlled her voice to reflect only sarcasm, her intonation poisonous. “An insult so strong must indicate that I’ve moved up in the ranks of my critics’ black list. However, now is not the time to trade respects. Perhaps you could reach me at the office for an appointment.”

  “I don’t think so. We’ve had our meetings, and you’ve still ignored our claim to our rightful land. We don’t ask for much. We rarely stay in one place, but still, we must have those few places where we can meet and be ourselves. The Rom will always be travelers, but you have taken away one of our last refuges.”

  As the old woman spoke, Helen suddenly realized who the person before her was. This was the same well-dressed, professional lawyer she’d been meeting with over a land dispute, a dispute involving the very deal she was being recognized for. Bianca Donceanu’s people were the Rom—a branch of American Romanians that retained their wandering Gypsy ways. They’d fought to keep the land—said it was their right to camp there annually as they had for generations—when in truth, the land belonged only to the government.

  Sounds of approaching security personnel could be heard, and the woman glared hard at Helen and stroked a long, golden chain hanging about her neck. Her voice became more heavily accented, her phrasing more formal. “I curse you now, Helen Mathews. I curse you in the way of my people. I curse you three times as one who devours, as one who bares her fangs against those who would keep their own, and as the predator you truly are.”

  With a flick of her wrist the Rom woman reached into some hidden pocket within her skirts and pulled out a small bottle. In a fluid motion she flung it toward Helen. Helen stepped back but the tiny flask smashed against the table in front of her, splashing its contents out and upward, spattering Helen from head to toe.

  By now, the old woman was shouting, racing to finish the words she now spoke in a foreign tongue before the guards dragged the uninvited accusers from the room. Helen stood frozen, caught in the spell of the Rom curse. She suppressed the urge to shiver, her blood running cold. She brushed her fingers over the flecks of liquid on her cheek. Everyone near her stared in hushed shock, even Mr. Winfield, a man she’d never seen off-pace.

  She looked down at her hand and realized she was covered in blood.

  1

  “Well, where the hell is she?” David Sherman’s voice carried his annoyance clearly to the receptionist on the other end of the telephone. “I’ve been trying to reach Ms. Mathews all week. Does s
he not want to close this deal? There are at least two other companies I could go to with this. Understand?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Sherman. Ms. Mathews will be returning to the office tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll contact you right away.”

  “She’d better. We can’t sit on this for much longer.”

  David hung up the phone and raised a hand to his aching head. What had he been thinking of, convincing himself that this woman was the only one for the job? That she was the only one who could make or break this deal? She’d been vague in her replies to his calls early last week, although she’d confirmed that the deal was one Multoma would be interested in. Then she’d simply disappeared. For God’s sake, they hadn’t even met yet.

  Her secretary couldn’t even say where she was. Couldn’t or wouldn’t. David tensed as the thought occurred to him again that perhaps she had taken the idea he’d brought to the table and offered it to another firm. She was, after all, reputed to be absolutely ruthless. Since her apparent desertion after their last discussion, her absence was all he could think about.

  David leaned back into his black leather chair, reclining as he considered the very real possibility of a double-cross. He had put together a tasty package of land just waiting for a big enough developer, and a plan to create a new retail and office center in Philadelphia. Would she steal that idea? He ran frustrated fingers though his hair.

  She might. It was time to meet the woman in person. Time to get a better feel for her ethics. It was well known that she was strong, smart, and one of the best negotiators in the trade. She’d won concessions for developments from both the government and the public that no one had thought possible. It was because of her that several unused and derelict sections of land, reclaimed from what used to be one of Detroit’s largest dumps, were now being developed successfully into a huge science center and hospital. She’d been recognized by her company and made a senior partner, a feat practically unheard of for so young a woman in this field.

  David leaned forward and pressed the intercom button to summon his secretary. He looked around his spacious office. He was no small-time operator; he could take on Helen Mathews. If she thought she could get away with stealing the biggest development he’d ever cultivated, she could think again. His corner office with a view in the largest office building in Philadelphia was proof of that.

  Sally, his assistant, entered the room quietly. For a moment David admired her. She was just his type: blond, curvy, and willing. And yet, there just wasn’t any pull, any excitement, any challenge. Beyond that, he would simply never get involved with someone he worked with. He had more than enough proof that that path led to certain disaster.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Sherman?” She paused in front of his desk, and leaned just a tad too far over, David noted. Although he certainly took a moment to admire the proffered view of her breasts, he was familiar with the pose. Women considered him handsome, but it was the power and money he controlled that seemed to be the deciding factor in their interest. Women loved power. It would be nice if someone wanted him for once, not just the money and prestige that came with his lifestyle.

  “I need travel arrangements to New York, Sally.” David drew her attention back to work. Once, the kind of challenge she was silently offering would have aroused him, co-worker or not. He had to face it—he wasn’t interested, and it wasn’t because she worked for him. She was much the same as the last three women he’d had affairs with, he couldn’t bring himself to start the cycle again.

  She straightened immediately and smoothed her skirt with ill-concealed irritation. He ignored it, but what else could he do but pretend her silent offer had never happened?

  “I want the next flight available. Book me first class and make reservations for dinner at Ruby Foo’s, in a private dining room. I’ll be bringing a business prospect, so be sure we get it, no matter what we have to shell out. I’ll stay at my apartment, so you know where to contact me.”

  David rattled off several more instructions and left a list of reports he wanted generated and sent to him in New York. Within a few moments he was on his way out the door. It only occurred to him then that he hadn’t soothed Sally’s bruised ego. A quick cell call and an offer of the day off while he was gone was all it took. He could only hope that it would go as well with Helen Mathews.

  * * *

  Helen collapsed with exhaustion into her office chair. Any brief time away from her desk meant a huge pile of catch-up work, no matter how necessary the absence. Nearly a week off for the third time in as many months had left her with an avalanche of paperwork and her secretary and receptionist both looked at her as if she’d abandoned them. She simply could not explain to them why she’d left or where she’d gone.

  Only their longtime loyalty kept them from asking too many questions. The two women had risen with her through the ranks of Multoma Developments and knew they owed her for the opportunities they had been given. Not one word had been said, at least not by them, not even when she knew they noticed a change in her appearance as well as habits.

  Helen dug through the pile of papers left on her ‘in’ tray and sifted out the most important of the reports she’d requested before she left. How much longer could she keep this up? Surely, it wouldn’t be long before someone higher up noted her absences. She pulled out the numbers on David Sherman’s proposal. She’d only had time to skim it before she’d left last week. It was an excellent plan, one that combined land once considered unusable and therefore cheap, and an innovative architectural concept for engineering office space over what was basically a swamp.

  She’d pulled all the information Multoma had on Sherman’s past operations and on the man himself, and had taken it away with her. There were times when she’d been able to read during her absence, although deciphering numbers proved impossible. Something about the way she processed information around the time of the full moon was very different. There was a lot to review. He’d been a busy man over the last couple of years, and she discovered his ideas had proved quite interesting and profitable for Multoma before, although her personal team had never worked with him.

  As for the man, she’d Googled him and found more than she expected. According to the press, he’d never been married, had worked at the same firm until he became full partner, and was a serious contributor to various charities, including wildlife preservation. And yet, he was a hunter, well proven in his skill against wild game. He owned several apartments and condos across the country.

  It was too bad she’d angered him by not contacting him last week. Her receptionist told her how irritated he’d been on the phone when he’d found out she’d left suddenly, but she could hardly have done otherwise. That thought brought her full circle.

  She pulled off a pair of dark glasses to rub tired eyes. The shades were a near permanent accessory now. She lay her head down on her desk, ready in that moment to weep. It was becoming too hard. Three times now she’d had to flee her office for an extended length of time. Three times she’d lied about it to coworkers and friends alike. One more time and she would likely be facing serious questions from her superiors about her ability to keep up her workload. Her father would be right, and she would fail. She was so tired.

  Behind her eyelids she watched again the events of that horrible night replay like a tired movie. She couldn’t escape the memory any more than she could escape the reality of her life since that moment. Once a month she changed, and became someone her father would not recognize. She became an animal.

  Helen’s intercom chose that moment to buzz sharply, pulling her back to the present. A second after she jerked upright, the door opened.

  “I’m sorry, Helen…” Sherry Davis, Helen’s receptionist, spoke quickly from the hall. “Mr. Sherman is here and insists on seeing you immediately.” The middle-aged woman looked angrily over the top of her glasses at the man who pushed his way past her and through the door.

  Helen stood to greet her uninvited guest. Her first impression of D
avid Sherman tempted her to frown, although she held on to her pleasant expression as she’d trained herself to do. He was determined, and obviously irritated by her absence and her receptionist’s protective attitude. Broad shouldered and thick through the chest, he towered over Sherry. Slightly too long, light brown hair flipped arrogantly over his brow, and a long nose and smooth, strong jaw finished the frame of his face. Only his hazel eyes stood out as exceptionally beautiful; they brought his features together into a very pleasing form.

  Before Helen could quite associate this handsome man with the phone calls she’d received a week ago, he was in her office and having his own good look at her. She flushed slightly as his eyes roved, but she schooled her face into a pleasant mask. She was used to being inspected. It was all part of the business she had spent the last five years conquering.

  She dressed the part of corporate executive-slash-warrior. Her tailored fuchsia suit fit her perfectly, and its bright color enhanced her pale skin and long black hair. She knew she looked tired, but as he stared at her longer and longer, she couldn’t hold his gaze. What was he looking at? Could he see beyond her façade? Wondering brought an uneasy itch between her shoulder blades, but she refused to give in to the urge to hunch down in her chair.