Climax
Page 1
Climax
Holly Hart
Edited by
Ellen St. Claire
Red Cape Romance
Contents
Stay in touch!
Climax
1. Skye
2. Skye
3. Harlan
4. Skye
5. Skye
6. Harlan
7. Skye
8. Skye
9. Skye
10. Harlan
11. Skye
12. Harlan
13. Skye
14. Skye
15. Skye
16. Harlan
17. Skye
18. Harlan
19. Skye
20. Harlan
21. Skye
22. Harlan
23. Skye
24. Harlan
25. Skye
26. Harlan
27. Harlan
28. Skye
29. Harlan
30. Skye
31. Skye
Epilogue – Skye
Stay in touch!
Faking It
1. Penny
2. Penny
3. Penny
4. Charlie
5. Penny
6. Charlie
7. Penny
8. Penny
9. Charlie
10. Penny
11. Charlie
12. Penny
13. Penny
14. Charlie
15. Penny
16. Charlie
17. Penny
18. Penny
19. Charlie
20. Penny
21. Charlie
22. Penny
23. Charlie
24. Penny
25. Charlie
26. Penny
27. Charlie
Epilogue - Penny
Faking It Extra Content!
1. Extended Epilogue
2. Deleted Kinky Scene
Let it Byrne
1. Casey
2. Declan
3. Casey
4. Casey
5. Casey
6. Declan
7. Casey
8. Declan
9. Casey
10. Declan
11. Casey
12. Declan
13. Casey
14. Declan
15. Declan
16. Casey
17. Casey
18. Casey
19. Declan
20. Casey
21. Declan
22. Casey
23. Declan
24. Casey
25. Casey
26. Declan
27. Casey
Epilogue
Byrne Baby Byrne
1. Kieran
2. Kieran
3. Sofia
4. Kieran
5. Sofia
6. Kieran
7. Sofia
8. Kieran
9. Kieran
10. Sofia
11. Kieran
12. Sofia
13. Sofia
14. Kieran
15. Sofia
16. Sofia
17. Sofia
18. Sofia
19. Kieran
20. Sofia
21. Kieran
22. Sofia
23. Kieran
24. Sofia
25. Kieran
26. Sofia
Epilogue
Stay in touch!
Copyright © 2017 by Holly Hart and Red Cape Romance
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.
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Part One
Climax
Wanna hear a dirty little secret?
No guy has ever gotten me off!
At least, it was a secret, until my boss saw my journal.
Now he’s making me a promise I can’t resist...
* * *
I won a war, lost a wife, and raised a beautiful baby girl.
But I left the SEALs scarred and broken. I swore off women for good.
Until Skye.
She’s innocent, curvy, and makes my company tick.
But I discovered her deepest secret: she’s never had an O.
I made her a deal: You fix me and I’ll fix you…
I’m gonna fix her, all right, right there in her own office!
Skye’s gonna learn fast:
There’s more to this contract than meets the eye.
* * *
And there’s a first time for everything. It won’t be her last
Chapter One
Skye
I’m lost in the glow thrown out by my smartphone as I walk past my assistant, Tyler. I know – cool, right!
“Skye, there’s –”
“Just give me a second, Tyler, okay?” I mutter, missing what should have been my first warning.
I’m reading an article from one of those British psychiatry journals. I guess most people don’t find that sort of thing interesting, but I live and breathe therapy. It’s not just my job, it’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was a little kid.
“Um okay, I guess–,” Tyler says in a stifled, anguished squeal.
His shriek should have been my second warning.
I push the door to my office open without looking at it, and almost bump my forehead against the frosted glass in the process. I kick off my flats and wander to my chair. I know the contours of my little office like the back of my hand. I could find my way around missing every cabinet or locating any file I needed – even if the room was pitch black and I was blindfolded.
I guess my third warning should have been the scent of spicy cologne wafting through the air. But my brain takes a couple of seconds too long to process the smell, as well.
The glass door closes with a hiss behind me.
“You must be Skye?”
The voice startles me. It sounds familiar, in a long-lost kind of way. My body searches for adrenaline and dumps it straight into my veins. The clever, self-assured, rational part of my brain switches off, and I go into survival mode. I rack my brain.
What did Tyler say?
I look up to see a man standing in the office – My office – and he’s reading My journal. The notebook which chronicles every last embarrassment that has happened to me, all of my darkest fears, and –
– My secret.
I freak out, and rush towards the man, knocking the journal out of his hands. Some of the pages crumple against the floor.
“Who the hell are you?” I yell and recklessly ask, “and what are you doing in My office?”
The man takes a step back. He doesn’t seem intimidated or put off by my – slightly crazy – reaction. In fact, a smile tickles his lips.
“I think you’ll find, Skye, that this is in fact my office.”
“Oh. My. God,” I whimper.
Not some play whimper, a very real I’m-a-scared-little-puppy whimper. Because right now, I know that I’ve fucked up – like lose-your-dream-job bad fucked up.
Because the man standing in front of me is Harlan Wolfe – not just the third richest man in New York – the CEO of Wolfe Capital.
Meaning, therefore, he is my boss …
… technically speaking �
�
… because before now, I’ve never seen the man. He owns the company, it’s his name that’s plastered across the office building’s front. But people like Harlan are supposed to stay on floors a whole lot higher than mine.
“There’s no need for that,” he grins, sticking out his hand, “just call me Harlan.”
I just stare at the floating hand.
I’ve got no idea how to act. How the heck am I supposed to dig myself out of a hole this deep? I just practically assaulted the freaking CEO. Worse, if you can believe it, is what he might have read in my journal. Most of it contains just embarrassing thoughts – my hopes, fears, and any problem I might have had during the day. I’m pretty sure I’ve never bitched about the company, at least…
But there’s one secret that would kill me if anyone found out.
“I’m – I’m so sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t – I mean – I didn’t know it was you. I mean, that you were you.” I clam up, and clap my hand across my offending mouth. I play back what I just said in my head and cringe. I sound like an idiot.
Harlan looks at me with an expression shaded by pity. Then he glances at his outstretched arm. When it’s obvious that I’m too panicked to shake his hand, he lets it fall to his side.
“I should hope not,” Harlan says, still grinning broadly.
It’s like all this is a game to him. I guess, when you’re worth twenty billion dollars, life is just one big strategy game.
Harlan crouches down. He’s wearing a light gray, perfectly-tailored Italian suit that hugs his body like a second skin. I can’t help but watch as his muscular thighs bulge, straining against the cloth. God, the man has the body of an Olympic athlete.
And then I realize what Harlan’s doing. He’s reaching for my journal. The one I just batted out of his hands.
But now I am stuck. I feel like my feet are encased in concrete. I can’t possibly throw myself at the journal a second time. But I’ve got to do something, to say something, at least.
“Why –”
“– am I in your office?” The billionaire, hedge fund manager, completes my sentence and smiles, picking up the gray notebook. “That’s an interesting question, Skye. Not as interesting, though, as what I read in here…” He taps the side of the journal.
I feel my cheeks heat like a runaway forest fire. “That’s –,” I croak, “Private.”
“Unfortunately for you, Skye, if it’s in this building, then it’s not private. To me, anyway.”
Harlan glances down at the incriminating journal, chews his lip, then hands it back to me. I hold my breath the entire time. I am uncomfortably aware of how attractive he is. His eyes are iceberg gray, his hair thick and black and virile.
A few gray hairs betray his age – late thirties – but he shows no sign of balding. In fact, he couldn’t be further away. Besides, he has the body of a man half his age. He looks lithe and fit, and almost painfully sexual. That’s the only way I can describe him. His expression crackles with intent, with desire.
“But I can see it’s causing you some bother,” Harlan smiles. He wraps his knuckles against the journal one last time, and then hands it to me. I practically snatch it out of his grasp.
Harlan surveys me for a couple of seconds, the same intrigued smile tickling his lips. I do my best to fight the panic surging through my veins, carried on a tidal wave of adrenaline.
Monkey brain off; put your adult head on.
“Why are you here?” I ask. My voice sounds a couple of octaves higher pitched than usual, but other than the embarrassment burning my face, my reaction is tolerable. “I mean – sir.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that. Like I said, just call me Harlan.”
“Okay, Harlan,” I say, sucking in a deep, greedy breath, “is there something I can help you with?”
Harlan takes a step back and leans against my desk. I notice that every couple of seconds, his eyes glance at the door, as though he half-expects someone to come charging through it, brandishing a weapon. I file the thought away.
“I’m not sleeping,” he finally admits.
It takes me a couple of seconds to process the comment. I feel like I’m on a bungee cord. One second, I’m ready to tear someone’s head off for reading my journal, the next I think I’m going to be fired the man who’s – technically – my boss. Now…
… Now the CEO of Wolfe Capital is asking me for help.
I blink.
I know. Not exactly my finest moment.
“Sooo,” Harlan says, biting the inside of his lip. He grimaces as if he hates having to ask, as if it somehow reveals weakness. “I was wondering if you’d be able to help.”
“You want me to help?” I squeak, “You?”
Harlan smiles, “Precisely. It seems we’re finally on the same page, Miss Warren.”
Time seems to slow down.
For a therapist, helping a man like Harlan Wolfe is the pinnacle. It’s like an artist handling a Rembrandt, a world-renowned violinist playing a Stradivarius or a basketball fan meeting LeBron James. Hell, getting into the heads of men just like Harlan is exactly why I joined Wolfe Capital as the in-house therapist. I want to be the best, and to be the best, you’ve got to treat the best.
Or at least the most fucked up.
“But… I can’t,” I say lamely.
Harlan’s eyebrow kinks upward. “Oh?” he growls dangerously. “So… exactly why would that be, Miss Warren?”
Be careful now, Skye. You don’t just say “no” to a man like Harlan Wolfe.
“Because,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut for a second as I cast around for a reason. A reason other than the fact that I’m embarrassed to treat the man who’s read my journal, and might know my secret. “Because – it would be a conflict of interest!”
“A ‘conflict of interest’?”
“Yes,” I nod, grateful to have found a plausible reason for declining. “Because – you’re my boss.”
Harlan flicks his fingers dismissively. “I don’t care about that. I’ll sign whatever disclaimer you need. I’ve come to you because you’re the best, Miss –,” Harlan pauses, and catches himself. “I mean Doctor Warren.”
“The best?” I say in a small voice. I didn’t even know that Harlan Wolfe had ever heard my name. Knowing that he knows who I am is kind of terrifying.
“It’s why I hired you,” Harlan says, plowing on as though he’s unaware of my discomfort.
“Since you joined the team here at Wolfe Capital, the traders under your care are producing an average of 7% more return. That’s statistically… astonishing. In fact, I’ve been considering requiring every trader to undergo regular sessions in this office. As for your bonus –”
“Bonus?” I squeak. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster – one second plunging toward disaster, the next climbing to higher and higher heights.
Harlan stares at me strangely. “Yes, Skye. You’ll find I can be a very –,” he licks his lower lip, “rewarding boss.”
I open and close my mouth a couple of times like a goldfish. Finally I say something, though nothing clever comes out. “Oh.”
“It’s agreed then,” Harlan says, turning to leave. “We’ll start the sessions tonight.”
“Tonight?” I stammer. “But –.”
Harlan wrinkles his forehead. “Well you don’t expect me to come and see you when the markets are open, do you Doctor Warren? I do have a business to run, after all”
I shake my head. I guess not…” I whisper.
“Perfect,” Harlan says.
His lips graze my cheek as he passes by. It’s an uncomfortably intimate gesture. Hell, my therapist’s brain screams that it reads of a power move – a dominant alpha male laying down a marker. And Harlan Wolfe is a hell of a lot more than some summer breeze alpha male. He’s a freaking hurricane.
And I kind of like it.
“I’ll see you later, Skye,” Harlan smiles as he reaches the door. I jerk back into the moment. “Eight o’clock,
sharp. My assistant will be in touch with the details.”
And just like that, Hurricane Harlan is gone.
Initial Session Notes:
I’m in over my head. Patient has assumed a driving role in this relationship from the start. Effective therapy will require starting afresh.
Dominant personality
Used to getting what he wants
Charming, and highly intelligent
Does he know my secret?
Chapter Two
Skye
I kick my apartment’s front door closed behind me, and set an overflowing stack of my patients’ notes down on the little kitchen’s marble countertop. I had planned to spend all night going through them and coming up with specialized treatment plans for rich men while drowning in a bottle of cheap wine.
After Harlan’s offer, I guess that’s off the table…
Oh God. Harlan. Now what the hell am I going to do about him?
I take some much-needed seconds to decompress. My head tilts forward against my chest, and I take a couple of deep breaths. I hide a smile when I realize I’m doing exactly what I tell my patients to do.
“What a fucking day…”
I look up at my neat, tidy apartment. The sight of it never fails to bring a smile to my face. It’s hard to believe that I’ve ended up in a place like this – especially given where I came from. I didn’t exactly have a white-picket-fence kind of childhood.
Not even close.
Girl, you need a damn shower. Anything else can wait.
I kick off my work shoes, shimmy out of my skirt and head for the bathroom. I turn the temperature knob as far left as it will let me, and step into a cauldron of burning steam. Ever since Harlan Wolfe stepped into my office earlier this afternoon, my head has been spinning.
I don’t know what to do or how to act. Nothing in my life to date has prepared me for going to dinner with a billionaire, especially not a billionaire who happens not only to be my boss, but who just might know my deepest, darkest secret.