by Loki Renard
A Wilder Heart
By
Loki Renard
©2015 by Blushing Books® and Loki Renard
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Renard, Loki
A Wilder Heart
eBook ISBN: 978-1-38259-112-3
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the Author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Table of Contents:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About Loki Renard
Ebook Offer
Blushing Books Newsletter
About Blushing Books
Chapter One
“But Daddy, they weren’t mine, I swear!”
Aster Wilder sobbed the words, her big blue eyes mirrored in her father’s face. Zach Wilder had been the darling of Hollywood for almost twenty years. He held a lifetime achievement award, three Oscars and now a document detailing his only daughter’s arrest.
Aster had enjoyed a clean record right up until the moment the police had caught her with a bag of ecstasy in her purse after a night out at one of Hollywood’s most exclusive clubs, the Snake Lounge.
“Are you trying to tell me that wasn’t your purse?”
“It was, but they weren’t my pills.”
Zach’s chiseled good looks were cast in an expression of severe disappointment as he looked at his one and only daughter. Aster wasn’t the typical Hollywood brat, largely because she’d grown up far from those lights on the wholesome plains of Montana. At that very moment with her long toned legs exposed by the short skirt and wearing a slashed tank top, which revealed much of her midriff and a significant amount of her breasts, she did not look particularly wholesome.
Covering her shame, Aster clutched the oversized cardigan her father had given her over her shoulders and chest for some measure of modesty. Clothing which seemed perfectly respectable at a club was suddenly outrageous in the light of day.
“You have to believe me,” she implored, sniffing away some of the tears which had been falling more or less non-stop since her arrest. The night had turned from an exciting celebration of an achievement she’d always dreamed of to a nightmare in which she was fingerprinted and photographed in a most unflattering light and then put into a cell, an actual filthy dirty cell which smelled of urine and despair.
“You’re not even supposed to be in the city.” Her father glowered down at her. “You’re supposed to be at school.”
“We’re finished for the year. I just—”
“You just disobeyed me and came to Los Angeles and auditioned for a film. Without telling me. And now you expect me to believe that the pills you were caught with, and the resulting mug shot which is in every magazine in the county aren’t yours?” He shook one such magazine at her and she saw herself, smoky eyed and sad looking, her blue eyes staring out of her heart shaped face framed with long dark hair, her pretty bow lips downturned with despair. A small part of her could not help but notice how good she looked even in a distraught and disheveled state. It was a very small part of her however, she was mostly horrified and ashamed of the turn her night had taken. Completely overwhelmed, Aster buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
“You’re going back to Montana in the morning,” her father informed her. “And you’re going to stay there.”
Those words made Aster pull her hands away from her tear stained cheeks. “But I got a part! I’m Serena. I play the lead’s best friend.”
“I don’t care if you’re playing King Kong,” Zach growled. “No daughter of mine is going to be involved in this business.”
“I’m not a child anymore. I’m twenty-four!”
“I don’t care how old you are. You’re my daughter. And you’re in trouble. How long have you been in LA?”
“A week.”
“One week and you’ve managed to get yourself arrested,” he sighed. “This is why I never wanted you here. This town is toxic, Asty.”
Aster could have argued that she was a mature woman with a graduate degree and her father didn’t need to worry about her anymo
re, but that rang hollow considering the charges pending.
Just as Zach was starting in on her again, a police officer was ushered into their presence. “Mr Wilder, we have some further information on the case,” he said in response to their quizzical looks.
“Yes? What is it?”
“We’re dropping the charges. It seems that one of the photographers at the scene took a picture of someone slipping the bag into her purse.” The officer looked at Aster blankly. “Apologies, Miss Wilder.”
“See, Daddy!” Aster looked up at her father. “I told you they weren’t mine.”
Her father did not seem in any way appeased by the news. He continued lecturing his daughter while the police officer slipped back out of the room, swiping an ashtray as he went. It would no doubt appear on an online auction site at some point.
“That’s not the point here, Aster. The point is you came here in secret against my wishes. You put yourself in harm’s way. You’re not used to how things work here. You don’t understand how far people will go to tear someone like you down, even though you’re completely innocent.”
There was real concern in his voice and Aster knew that he was just trying to protect her as he had always done. Her existence had been a secret for the first thirteen years of her life, until a nosy journalist had tracked her father down at the Montana ranch and blown their idyllic life to pieces with an expose on Zach Wilder’s ‘secret’ family.
“But Daddy, I was good. I got the part. They want me to fly to New Zealand and start shooting next week.”
“No,” he said firmly. “That is not happening.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“Oh, yes I can, young lady.”
With tears of frustration in her eyes, Aster knew that it was true. Her father could get her fired with a text message if he wanted to.
“Please,” she said, looking up at him with imploring eyes. “It’s not even going to be in Hollywood. It’s New Zealand. You always said I should travel.”
“Travel, not appear in movies,” he grunted. She could see him relenting. Her father had never been terribly good at saying no to her. There had been a lot of times in her life where he hadn’t been around due to hectic work commitments and as a result she had been more than a little spoiled in some ways.
“Please, Daddy?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“On one condition,” he said, relenting just as she had hoped that he would. “You are going to have security with you around the clock. You need someone making sure that you’re safe. What if those people had decided to slip pills into your drink and not your bag?”
“Thank you!” She squealed the word, jumped up and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck.
* * *
Aster spent the better part of the day and the next night catching up on her sleep. Her legal ordeal had left her exhausted, and it seemed that all anyone wanted to talk to her about was the arrest. She took to her bed until a new day dawned and her father summoned her via the maid.
Having dressed in the sort of attire that would reassure her father with its modesty and brushed her hair out so her sleek black locks fell around her shoulders in a muted halo, Aster made her way to her father’s private balcony. There she found him and another man deep in conversation. It ended abruptly as she made her appearance.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, crossing to kiss her father’s cheek. “You wanted to see me?”
“This is Owen Upham,” her father said, indicating the man standing next to him. “He’s a bodyguard, and he’s from New Zealand originally, so he will be able to keep you safe while you’re there.”
Owen was not what Aster had expected. She was used to security being comprised of extremely large taciturn men. Owen was not extremely large. He was tall at a bit past six foot, and he was well built, but not to the extraordinary scale of the usual armed muscle. He seemed to be in his mid thirties, judging by the crinkles around his dark brown eyes and he had the slightly weathered look of an ex-military man. Aster had met a few veterans in the course of her studies, and she recognized the signs in Owen, the excellent posture, the lingering air of restrained respect, the faint air of an acquaintance with danger. He had dark curling hair cut in a rakish fashion, which put her in mind of a modern day Regency gentleman. His eyes flashed with warmth and his mouth was wide, ready to smile. Her first impression of him was very appealing.
“Nice to meet you, Aster,” he said, speaking with a drawl that was foreign and yet not. She was quite charmed by his accent, which seemed to be a blend of many different accents. She could hear traces of English, a large dash of American tones, and a European twang to boot.
“Is that how New Zealanders talk?”
“Kiwis tend to lose their accents fairly easily,” Owen said with a heart-wrenchingly broad smile. “And I’ve been traveling for a while, so...” he shrugged.
“I want you to follow any instructions Owen gives you to the letter,” her father interjected. “You’re to do as he says.”
Aster felt a faint blush rising to her cheeks. It was so embarrassing to be lectured like that in front of the handsome bodyguard.
“Mr Wilder,” the butler said, making a smooth appearance. “There is an urgent matter which demands your attention.”
“Excuse me,” her father said. “You two get to know one another.” He went to attend to business, leaving Aster and Owen alone together on that balcony.
“So,” she said. “What’s New Zealand like?”
He smiled faintly as he looked at her. “It’s nice,” he said. “You’ll like it.”
Something in his tone suggested that she was going to like more than just New Zealand. There was intimacy in every syllable, so she fancied. Or maybe she just wanted there to be intimacy. Owen excited her on a level not many men reached, and he’d managed to do it in just a matter of minutes and a few words. There was something about him, something that clicked deep inside.
“I hear it’s very beautiful.”
“It is.”
Hardly sparkling conversation, but Aster didn’t mind. Men of action didn’t speak a lot, she figured. Academics tended to talk non-stop and actors, well, they were acting almost all the time.
“I’m sorry about my father,” Aster said, toying with one of the folds of her skirt. “He’s so... I don’t even know.”
“He cares about you, that’s all,” Owen said. “It’s good to have a dad that cares.”
“It would be good to have one that noticed I’m not a little girl anymore.”
Owen didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem overly conversational, which Aster wasn’t used to. Most men went out of their way to engage her in conversation. Those that didn’t were usually shy, but Owen didn’t seem shy, he just seemed too laid back to worry too much about her concerns.
“Little girls do tend to complain about their dads,” he eventually commented.
Aster’s jaw dropped as she scowled at him furiously. “That’s rude.”
“Is it?” Owen seemed mildly surprised. “It’s true.”
“It’s like you’re saying I am some... girl.”
“I’m not saying anything,” he replied. “I’m just saying I didn’t have a problem with how your father set things out. It’s easier to have an obedient client.”
Obedient client. There was something in the way he said those words that made Aster want to squirm where she stood. Owen did not seem similarly affected by her. He leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the horizon and the gardens below before flicking back to her with caramel warmth. He really did have the most beautiful eyes, when the sun caught them they seemed almost gold in color. Aster found herself staring at him with a kind of nervous incredulity.
“I’m not planning on being an obedient client,” she informed him. “Once I get to New Zealand, I’m going to live my life as I see fit.”
“That’s going to make things interesting for the both of us,” Owen replied. He didn’t seem concerned by her asser
tion. He seemed very sure of himself, so much so that Aster wondered precisely what he and her father had been discussing before her arrival. She decided it was time to put the bodyguard in his place so he knew precisely where he stood with her.
“My father might think of me as if I’m still in pigtails,” she said. “But I won’t tolerate you treating me as anything less than a respected client, understand?”
“I will always treat you with the utmost respect, Miss Wilder,” Owen reassured her.
She nodded. “Good,” she said stiffly. “I’m glad that we understand one another.”
That said, she turned and left Owen on the balcony. It would have been nice to have further conversation with him, but clearly some professional distance was required where he was concerned.
* * *
She was aware of Owen following her throughout the rest of the day, but he kept a respectful distance and he did not interfere with her plans, which were to meet one of her old friends for a quiet drink down on the strip.
“Oh, my god,” Sarah said. “I can’t believe you got arrested!” Her voice rose to an excited pitch as she shoved another magazine in Aster’s face. “At least you look good in the mug shot. Pouty. That’s cute.”
Aster smiled a little. Sarah’s infectious enthusiasm for practically everything was hard to avoid being affected by. The seriousness of the evening’s events and the fallout thereof was starting to fade away in the intensity of Sarah’s glee.
“And you have a part in a movie,” Sarah shook her head. “I’m so jealous. I could just punch you in the face.”
That was merely an expression. Sarah would not have punched someone if they had paid her to. She was a delicate little thing with wide doe eyes and a very successful career as a catalog model. They had known one another in Montana as teenagers, but Sarah had moved out to Hollywood years earlier. It was nice to see her again.