Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by Samantha Wayland
Breaking Out
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Samantha Wayland
Breaking Out
Samantha Wayland
Also by Samantha Wayland
Destiny Calls
With Grace
Fair Play (Hat Trick #1)
Two Man Advantage (Hat Trick #2)
End Game (Hat Trick #3)
Crashing the Net
Home & Away
Out of Her League
Take A Shot
A Merry Little (Hat Trick) Christmas (Hat Trick #4)
Traded Out
Breaking Out
Copyright © 2018 Samantha Wayland
Published by Loch Awe Press
P.O. Box 5481
Wayland, MA 01778
ISBN 978-1-940839-22-6
Edited by Meghan Miller
& CeCe Carroll
Cover Art by Caitlin Fry
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Loch Awe Press, PO Box 5481, Wayland, MA 01778.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Dedication
For Jenn G, whose strength and kindness inspire me. I’m not sure this book would exist if we hadn’t met at the exact right time. Thank you.
Acknowledgements
As always, I have countless people to thank for helping me make this book a reality. Stephanie Kay encouraged, ass-kicked, and applauded me by turns, always just when I needed it. Aven Ellis talked me down from the ledge, more than once, then went and performed a miracle by making blurb writing fun. I cannot thank these two ladies enough for all they do for me. My life is a thousand times richer for having them in it.
A huge thank you goes out to CeCe Carroll, who saw the potential in this blob of a story and helped me sculpt it into what I believed it could be.
To Meghan Miller, for keeping me honest and helping me see things more clearly.
To Jackie, for coming up with Chaz’s name. And for my lucky hockey socks!
To Claire, for your patience, Brit-picking, and outstanding diagramming skills. When I was sure I’d completely lost my mind on the edits for this, you were the voice of reason. Over and over again.
To Emily, Melanie, and Vicki, for their attention to detail and time.
And last, but certainly not least, Janel, whose superpower is blurb tweaks and edits.
Chapter One
Matilda Viveiros was done with men. D-O-N-E, done.
She’d tried, and she’d tried, but in the end, she’d written them off more than a year ago and hadn’t missed them since.
Well, mostly. If there were a way to get the benefits of certain parts of their anatomy without the guilt, shame, and ridiculous bullshit that came along with what she liked to do with those certain parts of their anatomy, she’d go for that.
But that man, and his dick, didn’t exist. She’d looked, and all she’d ended up with was a headache and the conviction that silicone-based appendages ordered through certain discreet websites were a better option.
Those, at least, solved the sex problem. There were still all the other ways the men in her life drove her up a fucking wall.
But not today…
Mati loved her job, but it was a rare and special treat to have her office—let alone the entire house—to herself. She was determined to relish every moment. After kicking off her heels, she put her feet up, pulled off her glasses, and stretched her arms above her head. She had an entire day doing what she loved, without a single soul around, and she refused to miss the company.
When she’d first come here five years ago, she’d thought she’d be interviewing with some old dude named Edwin who was something of a local legend, and an infamous recluse. Instead, she’d met the recently departed old dude’s son, who was also named Edwin but went by his middle name, Reese. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with piercing green eyes, ridiculous cheekbones, and hair only a Disney prince should be able to pull off. And more than just beautiful, he was generous, kind, and remarkably disinclined to leave the house, much like his father had been. She’d also found Hodges, who claimed to be Reese’s driver but was more like his friend and father rolled into one. And who had become a lot like both to Mati, too.
She ran her hand over the desk Reese had bought her in those early days. It was really more of a fussy French table, with inlaid wood on top and delicate, golden legs curling down from each corner. She absolutely adored it, as he’d known she would when he’d caught her drooling over it in the catalog while she was supposed to be checking out the hulking Formica L-shaped monsters in another section.
She smiled at the memory. Then she reminded herself she was wallowing in a man-free day. That meant she shouldn’t be listening for the sounds of Reese moving around in the office next to hers. Or miss his laughter, his sharp wit, and his unfailing trust in her and her abilities.
Reese was in Moncton for a visit with his family. She wasn’t sure if the pang of jealousy was because they got to spend time with Reese, or because Reese got to spend time with them. Reese’s family was fun and funny, generous with their affection, and warm in a way Mati cherished. It didn’t matter one wit that not one member was a blood relation—they could give lessons on loyalty and devotion. Lessons she could only wish her family would learn.
She’d had to miss this trip because her mom had needed Mati to take her to an appointment that morning while her brothers and father were tied up with some issue at the family produce distribution business. The business she could run in her sleep, after years and years of being the office drudge, but didn’t have a share in bec
ause she was born with a uterus. Go figure.
That crap used to fill her with rage, but these days she was glad her father was a backward—oh, sorry, old-fashioned—thinker. If she’d been at Viveiros and Sons…well, it wouldn’t have been called that, for one thing. And she wouldn’t have gotten a job as Reese Lamont’s personal assistant. And she wouldn’t have this lovely office in his beautiful home outside the city, with her ridiculous desk and the sunny windows.
She’d also be making less money, have fewer benefits…
So, yeah, this job was working out pretty well, though a lot had changed in the five years since she’d begun working here.
She still wore a suit every day, because she loved her suits and video conference calls were a consistent part of their lives, but that was about the only formality left. She’d long ago stopped calling Reese Mr. Lamont, and he’d long ago stopped calling her Matilda—though he still vigorously insisted their business associates used either that or Ms. Viveiros.
It was a game they played, letting people wonder what, exactly, was her role. A lot of people—not just the men—assumed she was window dressing. They’d ignore her or speak over her head as if she couldn’t possibly understand. It enraged Reese every time, and Mati certainly didn’t enjoy it, but she did love the looks on their faces when she and Reese took advantage of their stupidity and used it against them.
She had a great job working for a man who, unlike her family, valued her as something more than a producer of grandbabies—an occupation she had no interest in, yet. Maybe someday, if she could find a worthy sperm-donor.
An image of Reese popped into her head, and she nearly slapped herself in the face for it.
He may be perfect, genetically speaking, but in the five years they’d known each other, he’d also been flawlessly respectful. She’d never caught him looking at her legs, her boobs, or anywhere else his eyes shouldn’t have wandered. Instead, he’d taught her everything he could, feeding her curiosity at every turn and building her confidence until she’d started investing her own money in his projects, and building something far beyond a simple job with a salary.
They’d also grown to be good friends. Family, almost. So, while she enjoyed how protective he was of her, she chided herself when it gave her a little thrill. Their relationship was no longer strictly professional, but it was strictly platonic.
Even if Mati occasionally let her imagination wander.
She rolled her eyes, well aware one of the most attractive things about Reese was that in five years he’d never once done anything to make her wonder if he was attracted to her. How was that for self-defeating?
And probably another excellent reason her policy on men was a good one. At thirty-one, she really ought to know better.
She checked the clock and decided it was time for a late lunch before she dove back into the review of Reese’s real estate holdings. She grabbed her glasses, but left her shoes under her desk and padded stocking-footed through the house. She’d been intimidated the first time she’d pulled up in front of this massive stone and timber house, but now it felt familiar. Welcoming. Like home.
The slate foyer was freezing, and she hopped across it like she was stepping on hot coals. If Reese or Hodges checked the security camera footage when they got home, they’d tease her for this performance for weeks. She almost looked forward to it.
Slipping down the back hallway, she passed by the wide timber-framed entryway to the formal dining room and through the swinging door into the kitchen. This was the homiest room in the house, and her favorite, aside from her office. Bright white tiles with cobalt accents, steel appliances, and heavy, honey-colored wooden furniture glowed in the winter sun pouring through the massive windows. A blanket of snow covered the back gardens and lawns, beyond which rose a wall of trees, and at their roots, boulders tumbled across the rolling forest floor that would eventually reach the sea.
She opened the fridge and contemplated bringing her laptop back here to enjoy what little sunlight the winter granted them. She was just putting her containers down on the farmhouse table when she heard a noise from the front of the house.
It wasn’t a strange noise, or even an unusual one, but there was no reason the front door should have opened. She’d spoken to Reese an hour ago and knew he was nowhere near home.
She must have imagined it. She set her lunch on the table and wiped her clammy hands on her skirt.
The front door closed.
Or that was what it sounded like. Which was ridiculous. And impossible.
Obviously, she’d been out here in the boonies by herself for too long and it was getting to her. Frustrated with her overactive imagination, she poked her head into the hallway to confirm all was as it should be.
Her heart stopped at the sight of a tall man, dressed in black and wearing a ski mask, standing with his back to her in the front hall.
Fuck fuck fuck. Panic exploded in her chest as she eased back, praying the swinging door wouldn’t squeak as it swung closed. She couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart.
As soon as the door settled shut, she ran.
“Uncle Reese, tell us more embarrassing stories about Rupert!” Christian cajoled with the maniacal joy of a teenager who coveted any dirt on their parents. Oliver, at age six, had less of a prurient interest, but still liked a good story.
Reese grinned. He and Christian were impervious to Rupert’s death glare. Reese had the advantage of being Rupert’s oldest and closest friend, and Christian knew his father could never really be angry with him.
Reese racked his brain for a juicy yet audience-appropriate story. “Well, there was the time Rupert went skinny dipping in the school’s pool. Which was, as I’m sure you can imagine, completely against the rules.”
Rupert gasped, radiating indignation.
Callum put down what he was working on in the kitchen and came closer. “Really?” It didn’t take a careful study of Callum’s expression, or a genius intellect, to know he was picturing it.
Oliver, fortunately, was too young to notice. Christian made gagging noises and rolled his eyes at his admittedly revolting parents. Eleanor, barely a year old, slept happily against her uncle Reese’s chest.
“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly Rupert’s idea,” Reese allowed.
“Not my idea?” Rupert yelped. “You convinced me to sneak in at some ungodly hour of the night and to dive in from the highest platform.”
“I didn’t think you’d do it! And I definitely didn’t know you hadn’t tied off your trunks properly.”
Callum laughed. “The dive pulled them down?”
“Clean off,” Rupert admitted.
“No,” gasped Christian, clutching the waistband of his jeans as if they might suffer the same fate.
Reese cackled. “Yes!”
“That was twenty years ago,” Rupert muttered, glaring at Reese some more. “And you’re a terrible friend.”
Reese shrugged, unconcerned—he could see the smile Rupert was fighting—and shifted Eleanor so the phone buzzing in his pocket wouldn’t disturb her. His plan was to sit on the couch with Eleanor asleep on top of him all afternoon, if that’s what she wanted, though at some point, he was meant to tour the apartment being built for him one floor down.
As if conjured from his thoughts, the men who owned the building and were constructing Reese’s apartment came through the front door with hardly a knock.
“Mike! Alexei!” Oliver cried, hurling himself over the back of the couch toward his two favorite people.
“Oliver!” Alexei boomed in his usual speaking voice, which was roughly the same volume as a foghorn. The Russian goalie caught Oliver mid-air and clutched him tight.
Mike kissed Oliver’s cheek and came over to the couch. “You ready to take a look at the space? Hodges is already poking around, so I told him I’d come get you.”
“Sure,” Reese said, looking at Eleanor. “Is it safe to bring her with me?”
Becaus
e there was no way he was passing her off. He only made it to Moncton about once a month, so he would shamelessly hoard his Eleanor-time and everyone else could adjust.
“Sure,” Mike agreed easily. “No fumes or anything to be worried about. But the space is still rough, so you can’t put her down.”
The thought had never crossed Reese’s mind.
He was excited to see what Mike and Alexei had done. They’d been to Reese’s house on Cape Breton and had asked a few questions before declaring they knew what he’d like. Rupert—who often, with good reason, accused Reese of being a control freak—had been gobsmacked when Reese had told Mike and Alexei to go for it.
The aesthetics of the apartment weren’t what mattered to Reese, though he was sure it would be beautiful. All that mattered was that he would have a home inside the same four walls where the majority of his family lived. He’d ask Mike and Alexei to build apartments for Hodges and Mati next so he could have his entire family under one roof, even if only once in a while.
He’d never have what Rupert had—and he didn’t just mean a husband. At thirty-eight, Reese was pretty set in his ways. He couldn’t imagine having a spouse of any variety, let alone children. But he could have this, he thought as he pressed his lips to Eleanor’s silky hair and smiled at Mike, and it was more than he’d ever thought he’d get.
Mike held out a hand to help Reese stand. As soon as he was on his feet, his phone went off again.
“Damn it,” he muttered, shifting the baby while digging the damn thing out of his pocket.
He pressed the button to send the call to voicemail before he saw it was from Mati. Reese thumbed through his phone and paused when he saw the last two calls had also been from her.
A thread of worry curled through him. He drew a deep breath and told himself it was nothing. There was no reason to be anxious.
He almost dropped his phone when it rang again. This time he answered it.
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