MOGUL
by Elizabeth Lynx
Mogul
Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Lynx.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events 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.
For information contact:
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http://www.elizabeth-lynx.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
MOGUL
TABLE OF CONTENTS
STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX
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ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
About Elizabeth Lynx
STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX
STORIES by ELIZABETH LYNX
Newest Releases
Idol, book 1 Price of Fame, standalone novella
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Star, book 2 Price of Fame, standalone novella
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Mogul, book 3 Price of Fame, standalone novella
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Upcoming Releases
Royal Disgrace, book 5 of Cake Love, standalone, releases November 7th, 2019
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Lost & Found
Dirty Secret, prequel, standalone
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Cabin Fever, book 1 Lost & Found, standalone
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Living Hell, book 2 Lost & Found, standalone
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Multi-Author
Happy New You
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Cake Love Series - standalone
Rules of Payne, book 1, standalone
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The Attraction File, book 2, standalone
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One Wild Ride, book 3, standalone
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The Spy Ring, book 4, standalone
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Cake Love: Boxed Set, Books 1-4
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Him Her Them Series
Her Night with Him
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MOGUL
Trying to lose your virginity at a New Year’s party isn’t the best plan. The only things worse? When the guy turns you down but you still have to work with him.
I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but here goes. My name is Emmie and I’m a virgin. I know what you’re thinking. How could a twenty-eight-year-old woman who runs her own company not have turned in her V-card by now?
While I won’t go into details about it right now, I will admit that I’ve been a bit busy with work. Time flies when there’s a media empire to build. But I decided this year to make things right. A new year’s resolution. To find someone to make me a woman before the clock strikes twelve.
It’s all going to plan. I find the hottest guy at the party. He is more than willing to come up to my bedroom. Then I make the mistake of trying to kiss him. Not only did I not pop my cherry, but I can’t ever look Jon in the eyes again.
Hi, I’m Jon. The one Emmie tries to seduce on New Year’s. Things are still a bit fuzzy about that night, but I do remember Emmie. She’s beautiful and knows what she wants. Emmie is a guy’s wet dream. She’s my wet dream.
I’m in control of my life. I run a successful company with my sister and work hard to do things right. I make sure things get done right without a hair out of place. But when I’m around Emmie it’s as if I met my match. My work suffers and everything I do is wrong.
I should walk away from her. Tell her I want no part in her life. The trouble is whenever I leave, I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’m ready to let her take control of my heart but what if she doesn’t want it?
ONE
Emmie
“I can always count on you, Emmie, to be here with me,” my mother said as she patted my cheek.
The warmth that grew in my heart almost overshadowed the headache that felt like a meat cleaver had been lodged in my skull and forgotten.
“Thank you, Ma. Of course, I’m here for you,” I said with a smile as it was rare for my mother to compliment me.
“Your sister is the social one—the one with all the dates. But you . . . you’re dependable. Like a, uh . . . a—”
“Like an old pair of slippers.” I frowned.
Her golden eyes widened, and she pointed into the air. “Yes! Like I always say, slippers!”
That was me—old, soft, and dependable. I sighed and moved closer to the stove. I couldn’t be mad at Ma because she was right. I had no social life except for my one coffee date a week with my friends, Willa and Niki.
I was a twenty-eight-year-old successful woman who owned her own company and yet, I spent New Year’s morning hanging out in my kitchen with my mother.
My sister was right, I needed to get out more.
Steam rose from the cast-iron pan. I leaned over and inhaled every delicious scent. My mother’s hand never once let go of the spoon that was stirring the pan as she reached for something on the marble island behind me.
“I’m making a big batch of my mote pillo for everyone who stayed over from the New Year’s Eve party last night. Oh, I threw out the eggs you bought. Went this morning and got different ones.”
“What? They were perfectly good eggs.”
“No, they were from Dashelle Farms. Never buy their products.”
I groaned. “Mom, the food poisoning incident happened over five years ago.”
She waved her hand at me. My mom believed if it happened once, it would happen again. She was superstitious and fearful of just about everything that didn’t seem right to her.
Despite all that, she was also beautiful. Her dark brown hair mixed with gray fell softly to her shoulders. When I was young, we had nothing, but she always dazzled my sister and me with her stories. She was the entertainer, so when I created my business almost ten years ago, Delarosa Incorporated, I knew it had to entertain people. I started with a lifestyle magazine and website, which grew into different brands and we’ve recently moved into visual media. We started our own channel on Vidtube, and I hired a script editor to take on movie scripts.
It was all inspired by my mother’s love of lighting up a room with food, talk, and love.
I patted my stomach as it rumbled. “I can’t wait for it. Has anyone made coffee?”
“Oh, your sister got up early with me. She helped me make the dough for the empanadas. You know your sister, always a help.”
I frowned at the dig at me not getting up at the crack of dawn this morning. But I had other important matters to deal with—like getting a man out of my bed.
I glanced around my French country-style kitchen with blue-green glazed cabinets and white stone counters.
“Where’s Issa? I don’t see her.”
“I told her she does too much,” my mother said as I rolled my eyes hoping she hadn’t seen. “I told her to get some rest and that I’d do what was left of the cooking. Since you slept in so late, I figured it wou
ld be okay if she used one of the spare rooms.”
“Must be so hard for Issa doing nothing all day,” I mumbled as I discovered a few warm empanadas on a platter on the island.
“Those are for the guests. Hands off.” My mother, quick as a wasp, gave my hand a tap. She narrowed her golden eyes at me and shook her head. “Where is your man friend?”
Bile rose up my throat as my mind went into overdrive. Think, Emmie, think. What would Oprah do? She’d calmly explain that she’s a modern woman and could have a man stay in her bed overnight in her own house.
I cleared my throat and stood a little taller. “What man?”
I wasn’t Oprah. And as for a modern woman, that was debatable. My mind was clearly locked up in a rusted cage from the middle of the twentieth century. Though I longed for it to escape, I worried too much about how that would change my life.
That a man could distract me from my life.
My mother, the beautiful and strong Maria Delarosa, raised me to work hard for what I wanted and to never let a man sway me from my goals. As she was a single mom, I got the impression her idea of never letting a man get in the way of my dreams was her way of teaching me not to have sex until marriage.
I loved my mom. She was strict but caring. In a way, I idolized her. She worked two jobs to get my sister and I everything we needed. Now it was my turn to make sure she was taken care of.
I bought this home six years ago when my company took off. She moved in and it made me happy to see her doing everything she ever dreamed. I specifically had this kitchen designed exactly as she wanted because she loved cooking.
“The handsome man in the wrinkled suit with the disheveled brown hair that tiptoed out of here like he was up to no good. He didn’t spend the night in your room?”
My eyes widened, and I was thankful that my back was to my mother. There was no getting a lie past her. She’d say, “Your eyes tell me everything.” And they did because I was a terrible liar, hence why I had my back to her now.
“I, uh . . . that guy doesn’t sound familiar at all. Are you sure it wasn’t the gardener?” I asked and winced.
What a stupid question. I had been caught and it wasn’t pretty. Ma already knew without me turning to face her that my mouth was a dirty, filthy, lying whore.
“Emmie. Turn around.”
I swallowed and tried to find an excuse to get out of the kitchen, run upstairs, and hide under the bed like I did as a kid right before my mother doled out her punishment. Which was usually being sent to my room, so it all worked out in the end.
“No.”
“W-What?”
“I said no, Ma. I won’t turn around. I’m a grown woman and can refuse to turn around if I want.” I pressed my finger down on the marble counter. “This is my kitchen, in my home, and I will stand how I please.”
She knew. Oh God, not only am I a whore in her eyes but I’m a liar, too.
At that moment my sister, Issa, walked into the room and I had never been happier to see her.
“Oh good, you’re awake. Your friends, Hunter and Willa, are still here. I think they’re still celebrating the New Year.” She winked and sang background porno music as she swayed her hips, “Bow-chica-bow-wow.” She smirked and glanced down the hall. “They should just get it over with and elope already.”
I frowned. My sister knew Ma’s view on elopement. She never considered someone truly married unless they had a ceremony with family. But that didn’t stop my mom from fawning over Issa anyway, no matter what she said.
“Oh, Issa, you are so funny. You should be a comedian. Tell her, Emmie. Tell your little sister how funny she is and that she’d be a famous comedian if she tried.”
“You’d be a famous comedian if you tried,” I said in a monotone voice.
My sister rolled her lips between her teeth trying not to laugh. I loved Issa and protected her fiercely growing up, but she was obviously my mother’s favorite.
Issa got the charisma. She could walk into a room and all eyes turned to her. Women wanted to be her best friend and guys wanted to date her. She was taller than me, which wasn’t much as I was only average height. I had thicker hair but hers was long and silky. Mine was wavy and if not properly taken care of, looked like I touched one of those static globes at the local science center.
Clothes hung perfectly on her and she never had trouble like me, where nothing ever fit properly. Just once I’d like to buy something from the store without having it be altered to fit my body.
Was I jealous of her looks? Yes, but if anyone got those perfect genes, I wanted it to be Issa.
Issa knew our mother favored her and it became a joke between us. Anytime Ma told me to tell Issa that she would be perfect at whatever she was doing at the moment, I said it as if I was in a trance.
It made Issa laugh and Ma had no idea what was going on.
“I’ll think about it, Ma. In the meantime, I need to speak with my sister.” Issa came over and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the living room.
I had no idea if we had telepathic powers but at that moment, she must have heard my plea to get me away from Ma.
“Thank you.” I squeezed her hand as we sat on my navy velvet sofa.
“I figured you needed rescuing based on how you lit up when you saw me come into the kitchen. Was Ma complaining about the party last night?”
“Something like that.”
“Speaking of something like that, did you take my advice?” She winked at me and whispered the porn music again.
My eyes went wide. “What advice?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, big sis. You know exactly what I mean. I thought I saw someone sneak out of your room this morning in a wrinkled suit.” She elbowed me in the side. I winced because she was stronger than she looked.
“Yes, I took your advice. I took the biggest risk of all and embarrassed myself even worse than when I walked around with the back of my shirt tucked into my bra in high school”
My sister’s brow rose. “Worse than granny-pantie day?”
Not only did I have my shirt hooked onto the back of my bra that day in eleventh grade, but I was wearing the large underwear my mom got for me because it came free with a bra she saved up to buy. They only had one size left—XXL.
We didn’t have much money back then and took what we could get. So, the large panties went up my hip and the shirt I thought covered everything was wadded up my back.
It wasn’t a very good day.
“Yes, worse than granny-pantie day.”
She placed her hand on my back and rubbed. “Look, you took a risk and that’s a good thing. If that guy can’t see how wonderful you are, then he’s a dingleberry.”
I chuckled. My sister always knew how to make me laugh.
“It was me. I was the dingleberry.”
She sighed and said, “You work too much. So what if last night was bad? That was just a test run. Next time will be great.”
“Next time? There won’t be a next time. I’ve officially closed up shop.”
“Ugh, did Ma drop you on your ass when you were little, and you got a stick permanently lodged up your butt? There’s nothing wrong with being with a man. You’re going to stumble across a few duds but there’s a bunch of hotties, too. I’ve been with lots of men and I’m happy.” She smiled and I was jealous.
Issa could happily go from guy to guy without a care but I couldn’t kiss one without breaking down.
“Was he a bad kisser? Is that why your acting like you have a plate of broccoli in front of you?”
No. That was the problem. It was amazing. He was out of this world. Sweet and giving and I hated him for it.
With Jon’s flashy Hollywood looks, tailored suits, and soft, lush chestnut hair so thick I wanted to curl my fingers in those tresses and never let go, I may have gone a little too far in my kiss.
My head fell forward into my hands. “You have to understand, Issa, I never planned to do what I did with Jon. It just happened. I pa
nicked . . .”
I knew Jon. Not well, but enough that I’d most likely run into him again. It was inevitable. He was my good friend Willa’s agent. She was a singer, and he represented her and her boyfriend, Hunter.
Why couldn’t I have embarrassed myself in front of a stranger?
She gasped. “Oh, it was Jon? Hunter’s agent? Mmm, yeah, he’s hot. Totally see why you wanted him.”
I spun my hands around themselves as my frustration grew. As if wild hand gestures made everything clear.
“What you said about taking risks, it made sense. I’m a little tense from work with our upcoming Vidtube show, Live Life Home. Vera is making some crazy demands.”
“The lifestyle guru? I heard she’s a pain to work with. Apparently, if you’re top of the lifestyle and self-help pyramid, you can make anyone do anything, and they just have to take it.”
My eyes slid to the floor. Issa was right. Vera was a pain up my backside.
“Anyway, I was stressed out and you mentioned taking a risk. It was New Year’s, so I thought maybe some flirting or, at most, a make-out session. I never expected to go that far.”
My sister wiggled her eyebrows as she leaned toward me. “What did you do? Strip naked and tell him to take your V-card?”
She burst out laughing as the color drained from my face.
The thing was, my sister knew me better than anyone. As the only family member I had that knew when to keep her mouth shut, I told her the one thing no one knew about me. The thing that, at twenty-eight, was more embarrassing than warts.
I was a virgin.
She elbowed me again and it still hurt. “Come on, Emmie, lighten up. It was just a joke. He didn’t actually take your virginity.” Her smile faded. “Wait . . . Did he?”
I shook my head.
“Then what happened that got you so worked up?”
“I told him I wanted him to take my virginity . . . and he turned me down.”
My sister covered her mouth as she gasped. Her bright golden eyes dimmed in pity.
That’s why I was embarrassed. And the look Issa just gave was exactly the same look Jon gave me when I asked him to take my V-card.
Mogul (Price of Fame Book 3) Page 1