by Lexi Larue
Contents
Saved Part One
The Saved Series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Saved
A Billionaire Romance
The Saved Series Part One
Lexi Larue
Copyright © 2014 Lexi Larue
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and situations are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent of the author.
This book is Part One of “The Saved Series”
Saved Part One
Saved Part Two (Coming Soon)
Saved Part Three (Coming Soon)
Chapter 1
The September sun felt warm on my face as I stepped off the bus onto one of Chicago's busiest city streets. The winter had seemed endless, and it felt wonderful to be able to walk outside without three layers of clothing. I was dressed immaculately, as usual, in a tan raincoat that tied at the waist over the top of a navy blue wrap dress. My black heels cost more than I cared to remember, but they made me stand out at the radio station where there were 20 other interns vying for a full-time position at Harter Communications. They say you should dress for the job you want, not the job you have, so I followed that advice and always looked my best. My dark brown hair was perfectly curled, falling in waves down to the middle of my back. I wore tiny diamond earrings, which were a gift from a past I tried every day to forget.
I only had to walk about a block to get to the bus stop, and I still had 30 minutes before I had to be at work. I slipped into a Starbucks and grabbed a nonfat latte and half a whole-wheat bagel. Guilt swept over me as I took my first bite, thinking about how every bite would go straight to my hips. It took me a few seconds to snap out of my trance and remind myself that no one was there to weigh me anymore. I didn't have to keep a strict food journal or put in at least an hour a day at the gym unless I chose to. I wondered if I would ever get to a point where his face didn't flash before me or his voice didn't echo in my ears every time I ate something. After a year and a half in Chicago, I still scanned the crowded streets for his face. One time, I had seen a man that looked just like him from behind, and my whole body trembled with fear. When he turned his head and I saw that it wasn't him, I had to sit on a bench and collect myself. He would be pleased to know that he still had such an influence on my life. I could only hope that he had finally given up on me and moved on.
I arrived at the office about 15 minutes before 8:00, and I hurried to the elevator with all of the other people headed to their various jobs. Harter Communications was located on the 15th floor of a 20-story building. High above the Chicago streets, the company played music for the city and the surrounding areas. There was a country station, a rock station, and the number one hit music station in the city, KISS 100.5, playing all of the hottest songs on the radio.
I was an intern for the afternoon DJ and station manager, Joe Jones. I did all of the grunt work necessary to keep him happy and keep his days running smoothly. I didn’t mind making his coffee or picking up his dry cleaning because it meant I got to be right in the middle of all of the action and hear about things that most other people were not privy to. I was learning so much, and I knew it was just a stepping stone to bigger and better things. I would finally get to use my Communications degree and make something of my life without help from anyone.
The first thing I did when I got off the elevator was pick up Joe's messages from the front desk. Brielle, receptionist extraordinaire, was waiting for me. She was the closest thing I had to a friend in Chicago, and she had my back. Of course, she knew nothing about my past because I was not going to let anyone feel bad for me. To Brielle, I was just another young woman trying to climb the corporate ladder.
"Looks like another busy day is in the works here, Allie." She handed me a large pile of messages and motioned for me to come closer so she could whisper. "From what I hear, there are some major programming changes in the works. The big boss wants to mix it up a bit. I've only met him once, and believe me, he is not the kind of man people say no to."
"Great. Well, I just hope it doesn't negatively affect me. I'm just getting used to being here, and I love my job, even if it is mostly grunt work. At least Joe is nice to me. Keep me posted."
"Will do. Hey, a bunch of us are headed out tonight for happy hour at Thirsty's. Are you finally ready to join us?"
"I can't. I'm going to an author night at Hawthorne's. A local author is doing a reading from her new book. I'm dying to read it, and I can't wait to hear her speak about it."
"You really need to get a life, Allie. You are 23 years old, not 50! You are a single woman in your prime. Come have some drinks and let loose for once. Your book can wait."
"Thanks for the invite, but I’ve been looking forward to this reading for a few weeks. Maybe next time." I said goodbye and headed for my cubicle, knowing full well that I would say no every time she asked. There was no way I would go drinking with a bunch of people I barely knew and make a fool of myself. I could never let my guard down, not even for a second.
When I reached my desk, my phone was already ringing. It was Joe's assistant, Janet, asking me to get started on all of the tasks in that she outlined in the email that was also awaiting me. Apparently, Joe would be too busy in planning meetings all day preparing for the visit from the big boss. According to her, everyone was afraid of the changes that were coming.
I got right to work, going above and beyond in every task they asked me to do. I was going to impress the people here if it broke me. I needed my own success and my own life so I never had to go back to living in someone else's shadow. The one thing my past taught me was how to please people. I never complained at the station and always delivered projects early. I tried not to get in on the gossip and only joined in enough to seem friendly. I didn't want anyone thinking I was unapproachable and not fit to climb the company ladder.
At 5:05, I finished up the last of Janet's requests for Joe and logged out of my computer. I felt a sense of relief come over me as I stood up from my chair in my cubicle and stretched. The constant computer work made my back tense, and my feet hurt from running errands throughout the building. I headed toward the exit and stopped only briefly when I heard Brielle's voice call to me.
"Hey Allie, you sure you don't want to join us? You look like you need a night out."
"I'm sure. I am really looking forward to this reading. Have fun and be careful!" I headed for the door before she tried to convince me again that it was in my best interest to go to a club. I tied my raincoat around my waist and headed for the bus stop. I watched the people rushing to get home around me and just took it all in. I loved that I could blend in here and no one would care what I was doing. There were no spies waiting to run back and tell him where I was, what I was wearing, and who I was talking to.
Still, every once in a while, the hair on the back of my neck would stand up, and I could swear someone was watching me. As soon as I felt it, I would duck into a random place as soon as I could. Once I stepped into a Laundromat and hid in a corner for an hour before I felt safe. Another time, it was a Chinese restaurant where I ate beef and broccoli until my heart rate returned to normal and I felt steady on my feet again. I had to get used to the fact that I
would have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. I just had to stay one step ahead of the fear.
When the bus came, I sat next to an elderly woman who told me I looked like her best friend from her childhood. I had a feeling she was a bit senile because she kept calling me Lillian and asking me if I wanted to go watch the boys play ball down the street. I just smiled and nodded, giving her hand a squeeze before I got off the bus at my stop.
Heading up the stairs to my third-floor, one-bedroom apartment, I got my big ring of keys out to prepare to open the door. I had four locks on my door, and that still didn't seem like enough. I unlocked each one quickly, but carefully, and went inside fast so I could lock all four of them immediately. I only felt safe once I was on the other side of that locked door.
I hung my raincoat in the closet and kicked off my stilettos, feeling immediate relief when my aching feet sunk into the soft, beige carpet. My schedule only permitted time for a small salad at lunch, so I was starving. I heated up some leftover chicken and rice and grabbed a bottle of water.
I only had about an hour before I needed to leave for the reading, but I had to decompress first. My apartment was the only place I felt totally calm, and I savored each moment. Sitting in front of my 32-inch TV, I flipped through channels until I found reruns of "Gilmore Girls." The relationship between the mother and daughter on the show was one I always envied. My family was nothing like that at all. I might have had two parents, but they weren't supportive or loving. And neither was the man that I left them for.
I shook my head to try to clear the cobwebs of bad memories that threatened to take over and darken my night. I quickly washed my plate and went into my room to change. Looking through my small wardrobe, I settled on a pair of well-worn American Eagle bootcut jeans, a black v-neck shirt, and a thin, black cardigan. I slipped a pair of black flip flops on my feet and secured my grandmother's tiny diamond pendant around my neck. Wearing it always made me feel closer to the only person in the world who had ever really cared about me.
Before I headed out the door, I grabbed my copy of the book. I noticed a display advertising the author's visit the last time I was at the store and was intrigued by the fictional story of a young woman in Chicago in the 1960s. After reading just three chapters, I was hooked. I loved to get lost in other people's worlds. Sometimes I would even pretend that I was one of the characters, getting my happy ending no matter what life brought me in the story. I was pretty sure there was no happy ending in my reality, only a life of hiding and constantly looking over my shoulder.
Chapter 2
I left my building and made it to Hawthorne's bookstore in less than 20 minutes. A 50-something-year-old couple owned the store and stocked it with books that you might not find in one of the huge chain stores. There were cozy corners and beanbag chairs all over the store that were strategically placed for quiet reading. It was my favorite place outside of my apartment.
Tonight, there were four rows of folding chairs set up in front of a wooden podium. A large poster sat on an easel to the left of the podium, emblazoned with the book's cover. It was a picture of a young woman with straight, brown hair that hung all the way down her back. She wore bell-bottom pants, a navy pea coat, and brown boots. Only her back was visible as she strolled down a busy Chicago street. One tiny person in a city full of people. The book was called, "Hiding from Myself," and I related to every single page I read so far.
After settling into a chair in the second row, I began to scan the small crowd of people who sat around me. There was a young couple whispering to each other and holding hands. A middle-aged woman busied herself by knitting what looked like a scarf in the front row. A man in a bow tie sat three seats away from me, and his dark-framed glasses and khaki pants made me wonder if he was a college professor. I looked through my book to avoid making eye contact with any of them. It was always better not to be too friendly with strangers.
The bell rang behind me, indicating that another person came in. I waited a few seconds before looking up, attempting to seem uninterested in my surroundings. When I finally allowed my eyes to rest on the person who sat one row ahead and four seats to the right, my breath caught in my throat.
A young man, somewhere between 25 and 30 I guessed, with short hair so dark brown that it was almost black, sat holding a copy of the book. He was well-dressed but remained casual in a blue plaid button-down shirt and relaxed jeans. I could only see a tiny bit of his face, but his strong chin, and the small dimple in his left cheek that appeared when he smiled at another person had a serious effect on me.
Without warning, he turned and looked in my direction. He caught me staring and locked eyes with me, sending a shot of electricity across the chairs and people between us with his light green eyes. I had heard people say you could lose yourself in someone's eyes, but I never believed it until that moment. Whoever this beautiful man was, he had my full attention.
When a half-smile appeared on his full lips, I finally realized I was in a trance and felt my cheeks begin to redden with embarrassment. I quickly looked away, but could not stop thinking of those green eyes.
Luckily the author, Lynn Loomis, made her way to the podium to begin reading. I tried hard to concentrate on her explanation of how she came up with the story and why it was based in Chicago. My whole body tingled with the after effects of his eyes and smile on me. My brain screamed at me to keep my eyes forward and concentrate on the reading, but my body said otherwise. Every inch of me was aware of his presence, and my eyes betrayed me by glancing in his direction.
To my surprise, his head turned at the same moment, and our eyes locked again. This time, I saw a look of pure need on his face, and I was terrified and turned on all at once. How could any woman resist those eyes? I knew better than to lust after any man, especially a stranger, but I was losing my control.
As soon as the reading was over and the author offered to answer questions, I jumped from my seat, causing several of the other listeners to shoot me dirty looks. I felt bad, but not bad enough to stay. I needed to get away fast before I locked eyes with the mystery man again.
I found solace in the women's bathroom. Since the store was so small, it was the type of bathroom that was made for one person at a time, so I locked the door behind me. When I was alone, I stood against the door and tried to gather my thoughts. How could looking into a stranger's eyes make me feel so vulnerable? Why did I feel like he saw more than just my face when he looked at me? It was the first time I felt a serious attraction to anyone since I left Omaha, but it was too dangerous. Even if every part of my body was screaming out for him, I had to resist. Nothing good could come from this.
I splashed some water on my face and prepared to make a quick exit from the bookstore. Turning the knob, I pulled the door open, expecting to enter an empty hallway. Instead I was standing face-to-face with the blue plaid shirt and sinful green eyes. As soon as our eyes met, I lost myself, and I didn't try to push him away when his lips pressed against mine. He tasted like mint and coffee, and his lips were full and soft as they pressed firmly into my mouth that had been hungry for too long.
With just enough force to move me, the delicious mystery man had me pressed against the wall, pushing the tip of his tongue against my lips to request entry. I felt a tiny moan betray me as I parted my lips and let our tongues mix. My hips pushed against him and my hands were on his back, pulling him closer.
Suddenly we were moving again, and I was back in the women's bathroom. He closed and locked the door behind us, but his lips never left mine. His hands were big, and they roamed my body, stopping at my ass and squeezing firmly. I could feel how excited he was through the material between us, and it should have scared me away. I should have been terrified of this man I barely knew locking me in a public bathroom with him, but there wasn't a single part of my brain telling me to try to get away. I needed this and needed him. I would deal with the consequences later.
The light was dim in the bathroom, but his
eyes shone in the darkness, lighting the spark of my need for him. When his hands wandered under the hem of my shirt and found their way to my bra, I arched my back in response to the feel of his fingers. He decided to take a different approach and pulled my cami and bra down, exposing my full breasts. Without warning, he sucked my right nipple into his mouth, and I cried out. My hips pushed into his as he licked a trail to my other breast, licking perfect circles around my pebbled nipple.
There was no time to waste in this situation, so I didn't try to stop him when he unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down past my hips, along with my lace boy shorts. I stepped out of my flip flops and took my jeans off the rest of the way. I reached between us and undid the button on his jeans. When I reached inside of his boxer briefs, I was shocked to find he was fully aroused and much larger than I had ever had before. It felt hot in my small hand as I freed it from the constraints of his clothes.
He grunted at the contact from my hand and yanked one of my legs up around his hip. He positioned himself at my opening, and with one quick thrust, he was deep inside me. I dug my nails into his shoulders as his strong arms lifted me up off of the floor and his hips pinned me to the wall.
Our mouths met again, aching for the comfort of each other's taste. He obviously knew what he was doing as he moved inside me over and over again. I moved my hips to meet each thrust, letting the lust take over as I felt him hit the sweet spot inside of me.
I could see myself in the mirror on the opposite wall, and I did not recognize this woman who was letting herself be taken by a man she hasn't really met in a bookstore bathroom. However, watching him thrust into me just pushed me closer to my impending release.
He was breathing hard as he used his strength to pleasure me and hold me up. I broke free from his mouth and kissed and sucked my way down his throat and around his neck. He smelled like cologne from the pages of a magazine and tasted salty from the sweat produced in our heated embrace.