Silicon Valley Sweetheart

by St. Claire, Alyssa

  Silicon Valley Sweetheart

  Alyssa St. Claire

  Contents

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2015 by Alyssa St. Claire

  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.

  Chapter 1

  If I had known that in less than 24 hours, I would suddenly be dead-broke and sitting next to a handsome mystery man on a transcontinental flight, I wouldn’t have been so footloose and fancy-free. But I had no way of knowing that on Saturday night.

  So, I smiled as I finished putting up my long, dark hair just as my best friends Amanda and Emily knocked on my bathroom door.

  “I can’t believe you’ll be leaving New York in the morning, Shirin,” Amanda said, giving me a hug.

  “I know. I thought this day was never going to come, but here it is. I’m really leaving tomorrow.”

  Amanda and Emily were taking me out tonight. This was going to be our last time together before I hopped on a plane to San Francisco. I was starting the fall semester at Stanford. This had been my dream since I was a little girl back in Tehran.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Emily said.

  “I’m going to miss you, too. I wish you could come with me.” I reached out to hug both of them. Amanda and Emily were the first friends I made when I came to New York from Tehran. And, six years later, we were still inseparable.

  I don’t remember how old I was when my uncle petitioned us. When the time finally came, my father decided he was too old to emigrate. Both of my parents stayed back in Iran and I came to the U.S. at the age of 16. I’ve lived with my uncle since I arrived here. My parents were sad to see me go, but we all knew immigrating to the United States would offer me far more opportunities than what was available in Iran. My father began preparing me for the engineering portion of the competitive Concours college entrance exam at an early age. Since some universities are no longer accepting women for certain engineering programs, it made sense for me to come to the United States.

  I was a junior in high school when I got here. I started working part-time after school right away. Then full-time when I graduated while I was going to community college at night. When most of my friends were spending everything they earned buying clothes and eating out, I was saving every penny I could, so that one day, I could go to Stanford.

  At long last, my hard work was going to pay off. With the scholarship I’d received, money I’d saved from working, and a student loan, I would be able to start Stanford at the age of 21. I wished my father could be here. Just thinking about heading to school reminded me of how many hours he had spent with me every night teaching me all the things he knew about math and engineering. I was certain he would be proud.

  Amanda gave me her, “Hurry up… let’s go” look. I put on another coat of mascara, rubbed on my lipstick, and put on my strappy high heels so we could get going.

  “Did you tell Roger you were leaving?” Emily asked.

  “No, and I want to keep it that way,” I said, wrapping my purse over my shoulder.

  Roger was my ex-boyfriend. I met him at my uncle’s store. He seemed like a great guy at first, but there wasn’t any chemistry between us. It wasn’t that he was unattractive. He was attractive in a way. He was just so damn controlling. Telling me where I could go, who I could see, what I should wear... I had put up with it for as long as I could. I didn’t need to be treated like that. What woman does?

  “It’s too bad things didn’t work out between you two,” Amanda said.

  My uncle had warned me to go slowly in my relationship with Roger. But, like so many other women, I assumed that my boyfriend was just misunderstood. For a while, I felt like I was the only one who saw him for who he truly was. Sure, our relationship was good at first. Aren’t they almost always? But, it wasn’t too long before he started trying to control me and manipulate my emotions. He never appreciated me for who I was or what I did for him.

  “No, it’s good things didn’t work out. He was far too dull for my taste. He never wanted do anything fun or go anywhere. It seemed like all he wanted to do was bark orders at me. I didn’t move halfway around the world just to have some guy try to micromanage every aspect of my life. I could have stayed in Tehran for that.”

  “But the sex?” Amanda inquired. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

  I scrunched up my nose. “If you only knew...”

  “Well, I couldn’t figure out any other reason you would want to stay with him. He never was very nice to you, and he didn’t seem to respect you very much, either.”

  Amanda was right. Sometimes, I thought he was emotionally distant because he was an engineer. But, the more time I spent with him, I came to realize that wasn’t it at all. He just wasn’t a very nice guy.

  “Someday, I will find a man who wants me for both my mind and my body,” I said. Even though I said it sarcastically, deep down inside, I felt it was true. Or at least possible.

  “Keep dreaming there Cinderella. Well, at least you got the body thing going. There isn’t a hot-blooded male on this planet that wouldn’t appreciate your body. Especially if you held it against him...” Amanda smirked.

  “Come on. Let’s get going. Let’s have some fun tonight,” I said, locking the door behind us.

  * * *

  We could see how crowded Club 9 was as soon as the cab pulled up. Like most clubs in New York, there’s always a line to get in. The music blaring from the club seemed to energize the people waiting in line. We joined the rest of the people waiting. It wasn’t too long before one of the bouncers came up to me and asked if we wanted to go inside right away.

  Of course we did! Only at New York nightclubs were lines considered suggestions. Anyone the bouncer thought looked good enough could leapfrog the other people in front of them and be ushered through the doors. Lucky for us, tonight’s bouncer seemed to like me.

  The club was crowded inside. Club 9 seemed like an appropriate name. Almost everyone there was dressed to the nines. The large video screens on all the walls showed live images so you wouldn’t miss any of the action going on.

  Once we were inside, Amanda and Emily quickly caught the attention of a couple of hot guys. It didn’t take my friends long to drag them onto the dance floor. Not much of a dancer myself, I made my way over to the bar and found a stool to sit on. It was cool seeing my friends up on the large screens. They were having a lot of fun.

  I was sipping my Moscow Mule when a tall, dark-brown haired man walked up to the bar and ordered a scotch. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket with a t-shirt underneath. His outfit was far more casual than what the other guys at the club were wearing. Clearly, he didn’t think he needed to dress to impress anyone. He looked extremely good in his jeans. Still... I did wonder how he was able to make his way to the front of
the line wearing what he was.

  My God, he was good looking.

  He was the complete opposite of Roger. Where my ex had been short and lanky, he was tall and muscular. Where my ex had been shy, he exuded confidence. He had the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen. He almost looked as though he could have been in an ad for LUCKY JEANS. I found myself staring at him. I was mesmerized when he suddenly turned my way.

  “Hello,” he said with a warm smile.

  I knew he had caught me gawking at him. Feeling a little uneasy, I managed to smile back at him and say hello.

  The bartender handed him his drink, and he stepped closer to me. He was even more gorgeous close-up.

  “I’m Mark.”

  “Shirin Pahlavi. Nice to meet you,” I said, running my fingers through my hair.

  “You too. Do you come here often?”

  “I’m here with my friends. We’ve been here a few times. I won’t be coming back for a while, though.” The music was blaring. I had to raise my voice for him to hear me.

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m leaving for college tomorrow morning. I’ll be studying engineering. I probably won’t be able to come back to New York until I graduate.”

  “Congratulations! So, I guess you could say you’re not just another pretty face,” he said wryly. “You’re smart, too.”

  “Thank you,” I said shyly.

  “Can we go someplace quieter?”

  I suspected that was code for, “Do you want to go someplace to have sex?” As cute as he was, I had no intention of going anywhere with him tonight. I was getting on a plane tomorrow, and I didn’t want to complicate my life by hooking up with a random stranger. Still, hearing his low, gravelly voice caused goose bumps on my arms.

  “Sorry. I don’t want to leave my friends.” I looked around the club to see if I could spot Amanda and Emily. I was silently praying they would come save me. When they saw me looking for them, they waved.

  “Is that them over there?” he asked, pointing to Amanda and Emily. “They can come too… if you want.”

  Is it just an American thing, or does every guy in the world secretly dream of having sex with more than one woman? I may never know the answer to that question...

  I turned back to him, studying his face to see if he was serious or not. He had the sexiest eyes. It was easy to see how someone could easily get lost in them.

  “Do you invite just any girl you meet in a nightclub to have sex with you, or are you randomly selective?” There was no way I was going anywhere with this man.

  “No. I only invite the ones I find incredibly sexy, like you,” he said, putting his hand on my chin.

  What a player, I thought.

  “Where’s your wingman?” I asked, looking around for emphasis. “He must be around here somewhere.”

  “No, no wingman, not that I’d need one, anyway. I get along just fine on my own,” he said, leaning back confidently.

  It’s true. As cute as he was, he probably didn’t need any help with girls. He could get practically any girl he wanted. Except, me of course...

  “Can I order you another drink?” he asked.

  I nodded yes. Since it was my last night in New York, and I wanted to have some fun… If he wanted to buy me a drink, I was game.

  Mark raised his hand to get the waiter’s attention. “Another drink for the lady,” he said, pointing to my copper mug. I could tell this was a man used to getting what he wanted.

  He threw down his black American Express card when the bartender brought over my drink. So he’s rich... that still wasn’t enough to get me to have sex with him tonight. I don’t blame him for trying, though. As much as I didn’t want to think about getting involved with someone right now, just being around him made my skin tingle.

  “Thanks. But this still doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you tonight. I don’t do that with strange men I meet in nightclubs.”

  “It’s a good thing for you that I’m not strange then, isn’t it?” he asked with a sly grin.

  “Pfft... I’m a ‘take-me-to-dinner, buy-me-flowers, and get-to-know-me-first’ kind of girl.”

  “Sadly, there won’t be time for that. I’m here on business. Unfortunately, I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I have to head back home. But, we still can have tonight.” He stared into my eyes as though I was actually going to respond to his invitation.

  “I don’t see that happening. Thanks for the drink. Enjoy your stay,” I said turning away from him.

  Emily and Amanda were walking off the dance floor when I waved them over. They were watching Mark and me intently.

  “Let’s get going. It’s getting late, and I have to catch an early flight tomorrow morning,”

  “Come on... a little no-commitment, ‘I-don’t-care-if-I-ever-see-you-again’ sex does a body good. When was the last time you had sex, anyway?” Amanda asked.

  Honestly, I couldn’t remember. Not that it was any of their business, anyway. Even though I enjoyed going to clubs as much as the next girl, casual sex with complete strangers didn’t intrigue me. I would much rather have watched an old romance movie than recklessly endanger my heart to the mercy of an uninvolved stranger.

  Emily looked over at Mark. “What the hell... he’s so fricking hot! Why don’t you go home with him tonight? Live a little. Why, he’d make a mighty fine breakfast,”

  “If you want him, he’s all yours,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You know I don’t have sex with strangers from bars. Besides, I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I don’t need any ties to keep me here.”

  “Who said anything about ties? Although, that could be fun, too,” Amanda giggled. “You’re crazy for not taking him up on his offer.”

  “Black American Express card and all... nothing is going to keep me from going to Stanford. Let’s get out of here.”

  Reluctantly, they agreed, and we left the club.

  Chapter 2

  Oh shit, I thought as our cab pulled in front of my uncle’s brownstone.

  “It looks like my uncle is home. The lights are on, so he must be waiting up for me. You two had better go home.” I tried to play it off as though it was nothing to be worried about, but I could feel my heart racing as I stepped out of the car.

  “You’re 21 years old. Doesn’t your uncle realize that?” Amanda asked.

  “Well... he’s a bit old-fashioned. I’ll call you in the morning,” I said, and got out of the cab.

  I trudged up the walkway, dreading going inside. I put my key in the lock and guardedly opened the door. The silence was deafening. I picked up on the anger in my uncle’s eyes the moment I saw him.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m heading to bed. Have a nice evening.” I tried to walk toward my bedroom as though I didn’t notice how angry he was.

  He got up from his chair and started to walk towards me. He hesitated. He shook his head, took a deep breath and then bellowed, “Where the hell have you been, Shirin!”

  I had never seen him this angry. His whole demeanor frightened me.

  “I went out with my friends Amanda and Emily. It was sort of a going away party for me.” I tried to stay calm. I knew how my uncle could sometimes overreact in situations like this. Still, he’d never been this upset before.

  “Have you been out drinking?” he shouted.

  “Yes. I’m 21 years old. That’s the legal drinking age in the state of New York. I only had a few drinks at a nightclub before coming home. It's not like I was driving or anything. My friends were with me the whole time.”

  I was leaving for San Francisco in the morning. How could he not believe I was capable of acting like a responsible adult?

  His brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell me you were going out. Why? What else were you doing tonight?”

  “Absolutely nothing!” I shouted.

  “You’re out late drinking and you expect me to believe you’re not hiding anything? I don’t believe you.”

  He looked at me like he was waiting for me to back down. I j
ust stared at him.

  “You are an embarrassment. An embarrassment to me... an embarrassment to your family... and an embarrassment to yourself!”

  I couldn’t believe how much my uncle had overreacted. He’d lived in this country for nearly 20 years. Surely by now, he could have figured out that going out with friends is what everyone here does.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong! All I did was go to Club Nine with a couple of girlfriends. All my friends do that. I don’t see what the big deal is.” I knew this would upset him further, but he needed to understand I’m not a child. I’m an adult, and I can make good decisions without him having to look over my shoulder at every turn.

  “I will not have you embarrass me while you are staying in my house. I agreed to take you in out of respect for my brother. You have been nothing but an annoyance since day one.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Since I got here, I had tried extremely hard not to overstay my welcome. I had done everything I could to help out around the house. Even though I was working full-time and going to school, I did all the cooking, grocery shopping and cleaning for him. Never once did he say “thank you” to me.

  “I’m sorry that you feel that way. The only thing I did tonight was go to a nightclub with my two best friends and have a couple of drinks. It’s not like I had sex with a random stranger in a bathroom stall.” I thought it would be better not to divulge that having random sex with a stranger had come up as a possibility.

  “Uncle, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m going to bed now. I will see you in the morning.”

  As I started to head to my room, he grabbed my shoulder. Shaking me, he shouted, “Who do you think you are coming into my home, acting like a common whore? I won’t stand for your wonton ways, wandering around all hours of the night. It’s a disgrace!”

  I didn’t know what to say to him. I just stared at him in disbelief.

  He was silent for a moment and then he roared, “You are no longer welcome in my home. Get out now!” He pointed to the door.