Cards Of Love: Queen Of Pentacles

by Leah Holt

  QUEEN OF PENTACLES

  CARDS OF LOVE COLLECTION

  Leah Holt

  Copyright © 2018 Leah Holt

  All rights reserved. QUEEN OF PENTACLES is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Cards Of Love: Queen Of Pentacles

  Connect with Leah!

  Also from Leah Holt:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Also from Leah Holt:

  About Leah Holt

  Connect with Leah!

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  Also from Leah Holt:

  CHAINED: A Bad Boy Romance

  HIS PRICE: A Billionaire Romance

  THIRD DATE: A Romantic Comedy

  MY SOLDIER: A Military Romance

  BARE SKIN: A Billionaire Romance

  BODY LOCK: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

  BAD BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  DIRTY BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  SWEET VIRGIN

  BEG ME ANGEL: A Dark Romance

  PUSHED: A Dark Romance

  KEEP ME: A Dark Romance

  REDD: A Dark Romance

  BEAUTIFUL LIE

  ALPHA ON TOP: A Bad Boy Romance

  DEAR AUTHOR

  The Queen Of Pentacles

  The Queen Of Pentacles card shows a queen who is sitting on her thrown. She is surrounded by an abundance of different items, all of which represent different things.

  Holding in her hands, she has a pentacle, and this represents the material aspects of life; money, wealth, objects that are real and have some sort of value, whether physically or sentimentally.

  When facing upright, the queen is motherly, showing a love for others. She strives to create a place for her family that gives love and support. This card wants you to be practical, compassionate, and down-to-earth when dealing with people.

  But a queen upside down is consumed by work, chaos, an inability to separate what's important. She sees you as placing your career before friends and relationships. You become isolated, your world can spin out of control. You can't do everything and choices need to be made.

  This story holds a bit of both meanings. A woman who loves to give her wealth to others, who cares about the people around her. But she's blind to her own happiness. Living in a world that is consumed by wealth and power, so focused on what others think and maintaining a legacy, that she doesn't truly experience life.

  And when her world is rocked, she's forced to make a choice.

  To choose between what makes her happy and what she thought she wanted.

  We all have to make choices sometimes, the question is; what is happiness worth to you?

  Blurb:

  She had a smile that could drop any man to his knees, and all I wanted to do was corrupt her.

  With just a few smooth words, I got my wish. She melted when I touched her, her voice nothing but moans.

  When it was all over, I didn't expect to see her again.

  Flash ahead to Monday morning and I'm shocked to find out she's my new boss.

  Power, wealth, a body I could ride for days; this woman had it all.

  The attraction between us is explosive, the look in her eyes just begs me for more.

  There's only problem, her ex-boyfriend doesn't want me near her.

  He tells me she's off limits, and he's willing to tear her apart to win this war.

  But I don't take orders from stuck-up suit who already had his chance.

  She's my queen now.

  Note- Queen Of Pentacles is just one book of many in the Cards Of Love Collection. Each book is based off the author's perspective of the tarot card meaning. These books are standalone and do not need to be read in any particular order.

  Chapter One

  Ash

  My suit stuck to my throat, making it hard to breathe. Loosening the tie, I sat back in my chair and looked out into the crowd.

  There's so much money here.

  To say I felt out of place was an understatement.

  In the corner across from the bar were a handful of state representatives. Moving my eyes over the patina-splashed wallpaper and glittering crystal balls hanging from the ceiling, I spotted a few local high-end investors.

  It was the biggest event in this city every year, any name that held weight came out for it. The Berkshire Banquet for the Gods, where donations were as good as a vote for next years campaign, and investors wanted special treatment in the name of tax breaks and loopholes.

  Yup, a true bunch of tender-hearted folk all there to help the needy children of our nation. And I was lucky enough to get a backseat view of the dirty hands and snark-nosed people that made national news for their “charity.”

  Eyes were being tossed between competitors, each one looking down on the next as if they came in off the bottom of their shoes. Hawk eyes clashed with cat glares, while the claws were out, hidden behind a mask of golden wallets.

  The balance of power would visibly shift between the masses as checks were written and thank yous were announced through the speaker. You could physically feel the air as the energy cloud swirled from one person to the next, creating a sinful halo over their head.

  I didn't see a difference between any of them. Each person was loaded in their own right. And every single one was just as selfish as the person they were standing with.

  There were so many stuck-up rich assholes floating around, I half expected them to start wiping each others mouths with hundred dollar bills just to prove where the wolves started and the lambs ended.

  A waiter strolled by offering glasses of champagne, so I snagged one and downed it like I was at a bad wedding and not a social media frenzy.

  Flashes from photographers were popping off like fireworks, taking pictures of fake smiles and forced handshakes. People could be seen pulling small notebooks from their pockets and jotting down quick notations.

  Ugh, this fucking sucks.

  This was not how I wanted to spend my Saturday night, but I didn't really want to start off on the wrong foot by saying no.

  After getting fired two weeks ago, I wasn't sure any other magazine would hire me. I thought my name had been smeared through the mud, but lucky for me, I was able to weasel my way in unnoticed for my previous actions.

  The HR rep at Flare First magazine recommended that I make my debut on their editorial team by coming to this thing. She handed me a ticket like the event was a challenge, a sort of test to make sure I'd fit into their group.

  I wasn't exactly sure what I should be doing or who I should be mingling with, so I decided to just sit back and observe. My new job wasn't to interview or catch some public figure doing something they shouldn't be, not anymore.

  At this point, I was starting over from ground level, editing articles
written by their veteran staff. So, I did what I knew; I watched, making mental notes in case there was a questionnaire on Monday morning.

  I didn't mind just watching, I actually liked it. You could learn a lot about someone from just standing on the sidelines. I think my weird fascination and ability to spot every tiny detail, mannerism, wrinkle and twitch, was the reason I fell into this line of work so easily.

  There was a man at the table beside me who kept shifting his hairpiece when he thought no one was looking. His eyes would drift to this older woman sitting alone in the corner, and it was easy to see he had a thing for her.

  Maybe they used to date or maybe it's only been a dream of his. Either way, there was something there, and he felt it, liked it, hated it, and revoked it.

  Every time the woman's eyes would even come close to looking in his direction, the man would nervously glance down at his plate and pretend he wasn't paying attention. His hands vigorously rubbed the top of his thighs, and a thick sweat beaded up on the back of his neck.

  He definitely likes her, it's obvious as shit.

  A woman, sitting diagonal to my left, was spending most of her time staring down at her five hundred dollar plate. My first impression of her was that she was wondering how many calories she was staring at and if the food would add any cellulite to her extremely fit thighs.

  She kept poking the vegetables, spearing a potato and bringing it to her lips, only to let it fall off and plop into the au jus sauce soaking her filet. I watched her do that over a dozen times, her mouth crooked and unsure, salivating at the smell, but not daring enough to let the euphoric flavors break her down.

  Maybe I was all wrong. It didn't matter anymore what I thought I saw, it wasn't my place to speculate shit.

  Letting my eyes troll the room, something sparkled over my right shoulder. Rolling my head towards the flickering beacon, my chest lurched and my cock began to throb.

  With a softly cut jawline and big round eyes, her pouty lips and lean back made it hard to look away. The woman's hair was a deep burgundy, almost purple under the lighting, pulled half up into a purposely messy bun. The rose gold dress that stuck to her tight ass and unforgiving curves, twinkled like the surface of the sun.

  I knew I was staring, but I didn't really care. Was it rude? Probably. Would I stop? Not a chance in hell.

  Unaware of my lingering eyes in the background, she mingled with people like a high priestess. She would nod with each handshake, holding out her fingers like delicate pieces of silk. I had never seen such simple perfection.

  I only saw one problem with this woman. . .

  She didn't know I existed; yet.

  Making her way to the bar, she dug the tip of her toe into the marble tiles as she leaned forward and talked to the bartender. Resting her chin in her hand, her gaze danced around the room over her shoulder as she waited for her drink.

  Walking my eyes up over the pale pink pumps, the muscles in her legs were smooth and elongated. Instantly, images of all the things I could do with those legs flashed before my eyes.

  I wanted to wrap them around my head as I tasted her, I wanted to feel them squeeze my waist as I drove my cock deep inside. I wanted to run my hands up the back of her calves as I held her legs up by her ears and fucked her till she felt dizzy and didn't know up from down.

  If I was a caring man, a man with morals and decency, I'd leave her alone, taking pleasure in just watching her. But that wasn't who I was.

  The night's still early, I might as well make the best of this.

  Standing up, I fiddled with the cuffs on my sleeves and strolled to the bar with war on my face and submission in my gaze. I had plans for her, and we hadn't even said one word to each other yet.

  The bartender slipped her glass across the reflective surface and the woman began to open her clutch.

  “It's on me.” Handing the bartender a fifty, I said, “I've got her drinks for the rest of the night.” Smirking, I leaned against the bar and smiled at the woman. “It's only right that I buy you your drinks, a woman like you shouldn't have to pay for them.”

  “Oh yeah, and why's that?” Closing her small purse, she stirred her drink and took a delicate sip through the straw. Running a slender finger around the outline of her bottom lip, she tilted her head and waited for my answer.

  Her pupils expanded into black pools, drawing me in as her mouth folded into the sexiest frown. That was it, there was no way I could politely bow my head and walk away from her. Not without a taste of what those lips had to offer.

  Because I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. . . The thought sat on the tip of my tongue.

  “Because I'm a gentleman.” Holding an open palm to my chest, I dipped my head.

  “Is that right?” Arching a brow, the woman turned to face me, her deep glare stealing any control I thought I had. “You know, it's not the first time someone has bought me a drink, but you are the first to follow it up with a bull-shit line.” Her lips twitched as a small untrusting smile teased the edges. “Just because you think you're smooth and savvy, doesn't mean you're a gentleman. There's one thing I know, real gentlemen are like unicorns; they don't exist.”

  Feisty. I like feisty.

  The hard muscle between my legs grew thicker as I stood next to this vixen. Taking in a breath of air, the floral scent of her perfume wafted through my senses, pulling me in a hair closer.

  “Well, I'm going to change your mind.” The corner of my lip lifted towards my ear as I ran my tongue over my teeth. “But I won't lie, you're a beautiful woman, and I'm just a simple man trying to impress you.”

  Giggling, she held out a finger. “Now that sounds more believable. But don't count your cards on changing my mind about the gentleman thing.” Resting her back against the bar, she looked out onto the dance floor. “Does smooth and savvy have a name?”

  “The name's Ash.”

  Flicking her eyes back in my direction, her lips curved into the prettiest smile. My cock jerked, ready to feel her wrap that sexy little mouth around my shaft.

  “Nice to meet you, Ash. I'm Nola.” Holding out her hand, she waited patiently for me to take it.

  There wasn't a peaceful bone in my body. I was tempted to tug her in so I could drag my teeth up her arm and over the supple skin of her throat just to make her shiver. I wanted to drive my fingers into her blackberry hair and tear her head back just to hear her gasp in surprise.

  Jerky fingers itched to take what my body wanted. My cock was pulsing, anxiously hoping for her hand to slip down through the darkness and stroke him until he coughed out the bundle of heat that was burning in my gut.

  Who the fuck am I kidding?

  I'm no gentleman. . . But I'll play the fucking part to get what I want.

  Taking her fingers, I held them softly as I kissed the back of her palm. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Nola's cheeks flushed as she batted her lashes and bit her bottom lip. I held onto her fingers a little longer than I probably should have, running my thumb back and forth across her knuckles. She didn't try to pull her hand away, merely letting it settle like a feather in my grasp.

  We stared at each other in silence, the thick air a breakable thread between us. Her small fingers in my over sized hand felt like porcelain, and if I squeezed too hard her fingers would crumble to dust.

  I want to break this woman.

  Gentleman on the outside, dirty fucking bad boy on the inside.

  While we stood there, our eyes darting back and forth between each other, my smile was pleasant; but my brain was screaming to fuck this girl.

  “So, what are you here for?” Her voice crackled as she cleared her throat, gently pulling her hand free.

  “Same as everyone else—opportunity.”

  Thinning her lips, she rolled her eyes. “Opportunity. . . God, you sound like every other asshole in this place. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Everyone thinks there's always opportunity when money is involved.”

  Smiling to myself, I
swirled the liquor in my glass, watching the deep gold color. “Isn't there though?” Taking a drink, I put the glass back on the bar. “Money opens doors, it transforms into names on paper for a vote or that extra push to get what you want. How else could these jack-offs get as far as they have?”

  “Some of us worked hard to get where we are.” Her gaze hardened and I could see it in her eyes that she thought I was implying that she was built from the same mold as them. “But I wouldn't call any of this opportunity, I'd call it taking advantage of the weak. And I'm not weak, I can tell you that.”

  My lids lowered as I tipped my chin up and looked down the bridge of my nose at her. “Is that what you think?”

  “That's exactly what I think. I hate watching people take advantage of others. I've watched one too many people lose more than just funding because they got blindsided. They picked the wrong person to invest with or they donated to the person who was great with words, but not so great with keeping promises.” Her pupils turned to pin pricks as her mouth went taut. “Those rats are a dime a dozen in a place like this, I can spot them a mile away.”

  My lids hooded as I smirked. “You think I'm here to take advantage of these people, don't you?” Drawing my thumb over my chin, I couldn't stop myself from chuckling.

  “Are you?” she asked, her glare so hot it seared my skin.

  “What if I am, does it matter?” Her head tilted as I questioned the weight of her words. “Does that mean the drink I bought you is strictly just to get into your pockets? Does that mean I'm just another asshole in the crowd? Because you don't know me, maybe I'm the one with all the money.” The lie slid off my tongue with ease.

  Money wasn't something I was rich with, but I had something else to offer that spicy little mouth of hers.

  “I've never seen you here before, so I highly doubt that.”

  “So you think I'm just another asshole then?”

  Nola's eyes grew wide as she tried to stuff her words back into her mouth. “No, that's not what I meant. I just mean—”