Discovered

by Quigg, CA

  Discovered

  by

  CA QUIGG

  Copyright © Callie Quigg/CA Quigg

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Cover Design and formatting: Callie Quigg

  Cover image photos: Deposit Photos

  Discovered

  Aubree

  Ten years ago, a heartless billionaire destroyed my dad’s life and ruined mine.

  Now the hot as hell b**tard is standing right in front of me.

  Asshole Callum Talbot thinks he can have anything he wants. He can’t.

  I want to bring him to his knees, humiliate him, and hurt him until he's begging for mercy.

  He’s arrogant.

  He’s dominant.

  He’s everything I hate.

  But I’ll do whatever it takes to discover why he destroyed my dad’s life, even if it means I’m the one who ends up on my knees.

  Callum

  Ten years ago, one of my employees attempted to blackmail me, so I made him pay.

  Now his gorgeous daughter is standing right in front of me.

  Innocent Aubree Miller thinks she knows the truth. She doesn't.

  I want to educate her, f**k her, and introduce her to pleasures she never knew existed.

  She's sweet.

  She's submissive.

  She’s everything I want.

  But she hates me. So what? A little thing like hate won't get in my way.

  Discovered is a standalone, full-length dark BDSM romance between an older man and a younger woman. Guaranteed HEA with no cliffhanger and NO cheating.

  If you're looking for a smutty romance and a dirty Dom who'll leave you tingling all over, CA Quigg has got you covered.

  This book is dedicated to my very own Elvis.

  I still get butterflies when I look at you.

  Nineteen years and counting...

  Hey there!

  Thank you so much for reading Discovered. Aubree and Callum's story isn't the one I'd planned to tell. It was supposed to be a novella between Deceived and Controlled, my next release, but Aubree and Callum had a journey they wanted to go on and needed my help to get there. Usually, I have total control over my characters, but not this time. Not even I was able to say no to Callum Talbot. Although, in chapter 15, I got so mad at him--you'll see why--and wanted to walk away, but I didn't. I kept on writing in the hope he would somehow redeem himself after acting like a complete and utter asshole. He did.

  If I had to pick a theme for this story, I would say it's love will find a way. And, I think that's true: If love is meant to be, it'll find a way.

  I love hearing from you. If you'd like to chat about Discovered, or would like to give me any feedback--good or bad--send me an email calliequigg@gmail.com.

  Happy reading. I hope you enjoy Aubree and Callum's journey.

  Much Love,

  Callie

  Chapter One

  Aubree

  “Holy-mother-fucking-hell, Aubree.” My friend Ella repeatedly jabs her bony elbow into my bicep. “The hottest guy in the city just walked into the auditorium and is standing at the lectern.”

  “Really? How hot?” I don’t bother to lift my eyes from my laptop. I can tell by the tone of her voice she’s spotted someone she wants to sleep with. Pretty much every guy Ella sees is the hottest guy in the city. For her, college isn’t about getting an education. It’s about how many notches she can get on her bedpost. I’m on a full scholarship and if I want to keep it, my GPA has to stay at 3.5 or above. That means there are zero notches on my bedpost and that’s the way it’ll stay until I graduate. No one is getting in my pants anytime soon.

  “Let’s just say, if he asked me to bend over right here right now, I’d clasp my ankles,” she says, awe filling her voice. “Wonder why we weren’t told about him coming? There’s nothing on the schedule about a guest lecturer.”

  I glance up to see who she’s drooling over this time.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fury roars through my ears blocking everything else out. Tech billionaire Callum Talbot, the man I despise more than anything on earth, leans against the lectern laughing at something Professor Kent said. They act like they’ve known each other for years.

  I grit my teeth and resist the compulsion to storm down the auditorium steps and demand an explanation as to why Callum ruined my dad’s life. Why he’d had him blackballed all over the city? And, why no one, not even the local gas station, will hire him?

  Ten years ago, when I was nine, Callum fired my dad from Talbot Technologies for not being able to deal with demands of his position. Bullshit. Before Talbot, my dad had worked as the chief financial officer for a Fortune 500 company. A start-up like Callum’s would have been child’s play. Back then, nothing fazed my dad. He was outgoing and confident. The best dad in the world. But now, thanks to Callum, my dad is a shell. Most days he drinks whatever cheap booze he can get his hands on until he passes out.

  “What’s wrong?” Ella stares at me, her green eyes wide with concern. “Why do you look like you’re about to kill someone?”

  “I’m fine,” I lie, forcing myself to smile. “I’m a little bummed. Kent hinted at a quiz in his email. I got like two hours sleep preparing for this class.”

  Ella rolls her eyes and gives me an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, please. You can recite this shit in your sleep.”

  “Maybe,” I say and shrug, but she’s right. I can. Sometimes I think I’m more knowledgeable about business ethics than Professor Kent. Something Mr. Talbot could stand to learn a few things about.

  Ella knows little about my life outside of college. She doesn’t need to know my dad’s an alcoholic who wastes his welfare check on booze. The only thing she knows is that I’m waitress at Johnny’s Diner and my motto is books over boys.

  I’ve never invited her home. A ramshackle sixth-floor walkup isn’t a place I want her to see. She wouldn’t judge me because she’s not the type. I, on the other hand, am very much the type. Except instead of judging other people I judge and self-shame myself on a regular basis, and I’d rather not put myself through the stress of showing her the dysfunction that is my home life.

  We weren’t always dysfunctional. We used to be a regular All-American middle class family living in the burbs. That all changed after Callum fired my dad. We lost the cars and then the house, and when that happened, my mom ran off to Florida with her tennis coach. I haven’t seen her in years. Her abandonment is like a dormant cavity that sometimes flares into mind-numbing pain. We’re Facebook friends, but I’m hardly ever on there. When I log-in, I get to see photos of my six-year-old half-sister and snapshots of my mom’s puke-inducing perfect life.

  I don’t care about the material crap my family lost. I only care about the family and father I lost. The father who coached my soccer team. The father who went to every parent-teacher conference. The father who used to tell me anything and everything was possible.

  Mr. Kent begins the lecture by welcoming Callum. He asks us to give our distinguished guest and his old friend a warm round of applause. No chance. I clasp my fingers on my lap and my clamp my lips shut.

  Ella is right about one thing. He is the hottest guy in the cit
y—if cold-hearted bastards are your thing, that is. The dark shadow on his jaw suggests he hasn’t shaved in a day or two. His sun-bleached hair is tight on the sides but long on top. Every so often a few strands fall over his forehead, which he nonchalantly finger-combs back. The deep ocean blue of his eyes is accentuated by his navy suit, pale-blue shirt and a gray patterned tie. The bad-boy billionaire thing isn’t something I’m into, like at all and I want to kill myself for the way my nipples harden when I look at him.

  Callum starts by saying how honored he is to be here and makes an inane joke about his college days and the things he and Professor Kent got up to.

  When he begins his uninspiring TED-esque talk about ethics in the workplace, I don’t listen to a word because I’m too busy plotting ways to bring him down. To make him as miserable as he’s made my dad.

  Half-way through the lecture, he pauses and asks if anyone has any questions. My hand shoots up before I can stop myself.

  His searching eyes catch mine, and my heart stutters before racing like I’ve run a mile in a minute. I loathe my reaction to him.

  “Go head,” he says with a panty-soaking smile.

  I stand, clear my throat and pray my voice doesn’t give away my rage or nervousness. “It’s wildly publicized you pride yourself on treating your current and ex-employees with dignity and compassion. I’m interested to know how that strategy affects your business model. And at any time have you veered from said strategy—with, say, an ex-employee?”

  “Interesting question.” He gives me a lopsided grin and the whole world stops, but I steel myself against his movie star good looks. He will not charm me or make my disgust toward him disappear.

  Casually, he leans an arm on the lectern, and his eyes remain locked on mine.

  “I’ve found that by treating everyone from the janitor to the company director with the same level of respect, dignity, and compassion, we’ve created a trusting environment. An inclusive environment. One that’s free from harassment and discrimination. As for veering from that strategy,” he says as he strides to the front of the lectern, “there have been times when an employee hasn’t shown respect to the company as a whole, and therefore, hasn’t deserved respect in return.”

  “So,” I say, “if someone wasn’t, say, up to the standards you’d set out for them, would you offer help or fire them without question?”

  He slides his hands into his trouser pockets, and my eyes can’t help but land on his crotch. From the way the fabric stretches, I can see the outline of his cock. I’ve never actually seen a cock, so I can’t compare, but his looks big. I guess the rumors in the gossip columns are true. My breath catches, and I quickly glance up and pray he doesn’t realize I was staring at his dick.

  The twitch in his lips tells me he does. Great.

  He clears his throat and says, “I feel the way a company treats its human capital has a direct effect on the bottom line. I pride myself on how I treat my employees, current or otherwise. If someone is struggling, then we do everything in our power to help. Firing someone is a last resort.”

  “And you trea—”

  “You’ve had your chance, Ms. Miller,” interrupts Professor Kent, “let someone else ask a question.”

  “Sure.” I give a fake smile and sit down.

  Callum’s blue eyes narrow and don’t leave my face. It’s as if he’s trying to read my mind. Trying to figure out who I am and what I’m all about.

  Unless he knows my mother’s surname—the name on my birth certificate—he won’t be able to place me.

  After a few seconds, his stare becomes too intense, and I break eye contact.

  “What the fuck was that about?” Ella whispers.

  I shake my head. “Nothing. I can’t stand his cockiness.”

  “He’s a multi-billionare. He’s allowed to be cocky. He can be cocky with me anytime he wants, and I don’t mean arrogant cocky, I mean—”

  “I get what you mean,” I say cutting her off. I’m short with her. Something she doesn’t deserve, but I’ll make it up to her later by buying her a coffee and a chocolate croissant.

  Throughout the rest of the lecture, Callum’s eyes wander back to mine. It’s unnerving, to say the least. I never manage to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds because I’m afraid the barriers I’ve built against him over the years will come crashing down.

  When the bell finally rings, I grab my laptop and shove it into my backpack while muttering curses beneath my breath.

  Ella presses a gentle hand against my forearm. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this. You’re usually so calm, and it’s freaking me out.”

  “Nothing. I promise I’m fine.” I lift up my insulated but empty coffee cup and give it a shake. “I’m running low on fuel. With the whole no sleep thing last night, one cup isn’t enough.”

  “Thank God,” she says and places a hand on her chest. “You had me worried. I’ve never seen you so uptight. Meet me for lunch, and I’ll buy you a double espresso.”

  I draw her into a quick hug. “I’m the one who owes you coffee for acting like a crazy bitch.”

  “Deal,” she says and grabs her backpack. “Meet you at our table.”

  “Sure.”

  Along with everyone else, she bounds down the steps and out of the auditorium, leaving me alone to pull myself together. I close my eyes and blow out a long, slow breath.

  My dad would want to know the man he’s spent forever obsessing over was a few feet away from me. I open my eyes and slide my phone from my back pocket pretending not to notice the newest screen crack and type out a text, but then I stop. If I tell him, it might send him into a tailspin, and the last thing I need is him binge drinking and ending up in the hospital again. The bills from when he had stomach pumped a few weeks ago, still haven’t been paid. Or the time before that.

  I go to put my phone back in my pocket, but before I do, it beeps with a text. My boss, Johnny, wants to know if I’ll cover a shift at the diner later. God, yes. I’ll take every shift I can get. I sling my backpack over my shoulder, and, while tapping out my reply, I run down the auditorium steps two at a time.

  Oomph.

  At the bottom, I run headfirst into what feels like a solid wall.

  A solid wall that smells like a fresh summer day.

  My already beat up phone clatters to the floor.

  Chapter Two

  Callum

  I don’t know who she is, but I want her. And I always get what I want. She steps away from me, the thunder in her hazel eyes and the tight set of her delicate jaw show her rage.

  She bends down to pick up her phone. Her long, caramel hair streams forward, and I imagine the strands twisted between my fingers while I pound into her from behind. My pulse kicks up, and my dick twitches thinking about sinking into her softness. The sweet floral scent of her perfume fills my mind with images of her on her knees, of her on her back, and of her on my cock.

  It’s been years since I’ve wanted someone the way I want her. Falling in love is something I’ll never allow to happen ever again, Rachel saw to that, but I welcome falling in lust repeatedly.

  With her curtain of straight hair, hazel eyes and shapeless sweater, she’s not my usual type. But her probing questions and her apparent dislike of me, make her the sexiest women I’ve met in a long time. I didn’t miss the way she stared at my crotch or the way her eyes followed me. And to think I almost cancelled my visit.

  “Fucking great.” She stands and wipes her thumb over the spider webbed cracks covering the non-responsive phone screen. “This is the day that just keeps on giving.”

  “I’ll have a new one sent to you this afternoon,” I say and reach out to take the cell from her fingers, but she jerks back as if I’m wielding a knife. I like her feistiness. “Our new range is much superior to Apple. The screens don’t shatter as easily, and the phones bounce when dropped.”

  “I don’t need or want anything from you,” she says and pushes t
he phone into the back pocket of her tight jeans. If she had a gun, she wouldn’t think twice about shooting me. Taming her will be a challenge. And I never back away from a challenge.

  I smirk at the venom in her voice. I’m not used to someone hating me on sight. The kind of loathing she has for me usually takes a couple of weeks of ignored phone calls and broken dates. “Are you always this rude to people you’ve just met?”

  “Only to people who deserve it.”

  Intrigued, I raise an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”

  “No.” She storms away from me and disappears leaving only a trail of her perfume.

  I chuckle. She’s mine, and she doesn’t even realize it. I need to find out more about her. Kent owes me for coming to talk to his class. Something I wouldn’t do for everyone. I take out my phone and call him. I don’t wait for him to say hello when he answers.

  “Tell me about the girl who asked the questions about ethics.”

  “Aubree Miller. Not sure what was up with her today. She’s usually a people pleaser. Wants to be liked. Works hard. If she were that way inclined, she’d make a good sub for someone.”

  “Miller,” I mutter and do a mental inventory of my colleagues and associates. The name isn’t familiar. “Can you tell me anything else?” I leave the auditorium and walk through the lush campus grounds hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but there’s no sign.

  Several female students do their best to get my attention by accidently bumping into me or blocking my path. I veer around them. I have no interest. I won’t have an interest in anyone until after I’ve had Aubree Miller beneath me begging for mercy.