SCAR (LOST CREEK SHIFTERS NOVELLAS Book 2)

by Samantha Leal

  Alexandra’s hand rested both pensively as well as protectively on her stomach as she leaned back against the park bench and shut her eyes. She wasn’t showing yet but she already loved the tiny human being inside of her with all her heart. It wasn’t its fault that its father was a two-faced rat! But still, this was not how it was supposed to be!

  “May I sit?” an achingly familiar voice said from right in front of her.

  Alexandra’s eyes flew open disbelievingly. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The two-faced rat was standing right in front of her looking so unbearably handsome that she unconsciously started to grind her teeth. He was wearing a pair of well-washed jeans and a tee-shirt with simple sneakers and yet somehow he managed to look utterly respectable, male and delicious. He was also slimmer than she remembered; he actually looked a little gaunt.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered, her throat almost closing up. She had been torturing herself with images of his handsome, lying face since Hawaii but seeing him in the flesh was even more painful than her fevered anticipation had imagined.

  “I need to talk to you Alexandra. You left the Island in a hurry and I had no chance to ”

  “To seduce me further just so you could get me to reveal secrets about my business? Well you failed; we got the contract!” she cut in acidly.

  “Cara mia, I’ve hurt you but you will let me make amends yes?” he said, his Spanish accent thicker as he dropped his long frame onto the bench beside her.

  Alexandra felt as though the entire air around them reverberated with the very force of his presence and vitality. She edged away from him a little on the bench.

  “Alexandra? Come on, don’t avoid me, Cara mia,” he pleaded, his hand grabbing hers to still her nervous movements.

  “You have a lot of nerve showing your face here,” Alexandra spat jerking her arm from his light grasp. “So all you wanted was a contract and you had to sleep with me too? The humiliation couldn’t just end at me warming up to you? You could have simply asked me to withdraw as a friend and I would have considered it. You didn’t have to pretend to like me and actually fucking take me to your bed!”

  Pun was really not her strong suit, she thought distractedly.

  “It looks bad I know, but I swear it was nothing like that,” he said gruffly, taking her hand in his.

  She sprung to her feet, flinging off his hand, her heart racing as she said frigidly, “Leave me the hell alone.”

  Something glinted fleetingly in his dark eyes but was gone before she could ascertain what it was and he said, “I can’t. I have tried a thousand times to let you go but I can’t. I tried to forget you. I can’t undo what is done.”

  “You’re damn right you can’t! I hate you and I curse the day I met you,” she lied.

  Leandro looked weary and deflated all of a sudden and Alexandra felt her heart constrict in her chest as she looked at him. In this moment he didn’t look the part of some corporate raider as she had painted him; he looked almost like a little boy whose heart was breaking.

  “I never set out to seduce you. I came to Hawaii to persuade you to withdraw Beautiful Designs from the bid. Lead Inc has been trying to take over some companies, mostly subsidiaries of Alistairs Plc and this contract would have been like a leg in the door for us. Before I met you, it was just business, but once I saw you, I had to have you. I wanted to be with you, I should say. Seducing you was never my agenda. I swear it. I tried everything I could to stay away but I just could not forget you. Now that I know you exist, nothing is the same. All that I have accomplished means nothing without you. I was going to tell you everything that last day but you found out on your own before I had the chance.”

  “Yeah you should have done a better job of hiding the papers I said,” she said bitingly.

  He sighed, “That was the worst day of my life.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

  “Alexandra, I pulled Lead Inc out of the bid. That was the first thing I did when I returned. You can verify from them, I swear. I didn’t want to take it away from you; not if it meant I would lose you.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. He had pulled out of the contract when it meant so much to his company?

  Alexandra took a quick step back as Leandro rose to his feet and took her hand in his once more. “I’m sorry Alexandra. Please forgive me? I feel like I know you as much as I know my own self. Can’t you see? You are a part of me and I am a part of you. Our meeting was a gift. Can’t you see that?”

  “You only know so much about me because you read it up in some report!”

  “I never read the report. In fact I had only just printed them out that same morning. I never read them I swear. Our connection surprised me too. You are the funniest, kindest, sweetest, most beautiful woman I know.”

  His dark eyes stared into hers, open and searching and she read the blazing sincerity and remorse in his gaze. She believed him, she realized.

  Her resistance melted away and she nodded, “Okay fine. No harm done.”

  “There’s something else.”

  “Huh?”

  Before her surprised eyes, he went down on one knee and pulled a little black box from his pocket, his dark eyes gleaming as he looked up at her. Alexandra’s throat closed up as she stared at him, her hands flying to her mouth when the box opened to reveal the biggest and most amazingly cut diamond she had ever seen in her life.

  “I love you Alexandra. I know I absolutely do not deserve you but will you make me the happiest man on earth and say you’ll marry me?”

  “I I’m pregnant,” she blurted instead.

  His eyes widened in surprise even as his gaze automatically dropped to her flat stomach before flicking up to her face.

  “You’re” he began hesitantly.

  Alexandra nodded, happy tears springing into her eyes as she grinned down at him. He rose to his feet immediately and gathered her into his arms, his hands encircling her waist as he crushed her to him.

  “You’re perfect. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he breathed against her lips. His kiss was tender and gentle. His tongue stroked hers sweetly sending waves of a calm and soothing peace shooting through her nerve endings as she clung to him. An almost indescribable feeling of happiness washed over her.

  “You never answered my question,” he reminded her, lifting his head and looking into her eyes with all the love in the world shining from his.

  “Yes Leandro, I’ll marry you. I love you too,” she told him.

  As she kissed him, all the walls around her heart melted away completely leaving her free to embrace this wonderful love that was hers to savor forever.

  THE END

  What the Billionaire Needs

  Leela Ash

  Copyright ©2015 by Leela Ash. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Thank you so much for your interest in my work!

  CHAPTER ONE:

  It was another day in the Wall Street boys club; a term I don't use lightly. The stock world is a testosterone driven arena where men assert their masculinity by driving through deals and collecting commissions. I guess with no more lions to kill or Spartans to battle they've gone from swords to the mobile devices they wave around like old west "shooting irons".

  For those of us who were born without "Y" Chromosomes things are different. Men who push hard are deemed "tough businessmen", but when we do it we're called "bitches." We couldn't even expect support from the few women who had made it. They were too busy watching their own backs to worry about some lowly junior stockbroker in a skirt.

  I was one of those junior brokers, cold calling potential clients, hoping to pull in enough commissions to make the one-year evaluation standards. Fifty percent of us would be cut loose after the first year. Seven
ty percent of those cut loose would be women.

  I didn't deserve to be doing so much time at the lowest rung. I had graduated at the top of my class, with gleaming endorsements from my professors. But there had been one little slip up that continued to haunt me, I'll go into that later.

  ***

  "Have you considered investing in stocks?" I said, using my best selling voice, "Currently we have a tremendous opportunity available…" but he cut me off in mid-sentence.

  "Yeah, you can save that crap. I saw that Leonardo DiCaprio movie and I know all these stock calls are just scams. Don't call me again or I'll report you." And with that my latest potential meal ticket hung up.

  I pulled my headset off and sat back. I’d been rejected probably fifty times that morning, and it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. One cold call, however, had stayed on the line. But I realized he was more interested in what I was wearing than in what I was selling. Maybe I should start a side business, a 976 number where you can sexually harass a marketer for ninety-nine cents a minute, I thought to myself. It would have meant a raise.

  I glanced up in time to see my supervisor Jeff strutting by.

  "What's up Stewart, you taking a coffee break? Come on, time is money," he said and continued on to torment the other junior brokers.

  I graduated at the top of my class… and this is what it got me.

  At the eight-hour mark I headed home. Some of the juniors would stay on, cold calling during the dreaded "dinner hours" when customers were at their most resentful. I just didn't have it in me tonight.

  I stepped out of the building and walked through the now empty financial district. It always amazed me how quickly Wall Street went from a swarming beehive in the morning to post-apocalyptic after six o'clock. Most of the boy's club had adjourned to the districts bars where they'd boast about their deal-making prowess and do bumps of coke in the men's room. Did you know most insider trading is just cocaine induced babbling by brokers? Sad but true.

  I was coming up on the Fulton Street station when I spied a limousine cruising behind me. My first guess was a couple of drunken brokers out heckling women. The perfect end to a perfect day. The limo pulled ahead of me and stopped. The driver climbed out and stood waiting as I approached.

  "Ms. Stewart?" He asked politely.

  I took a moment to appraise the situation. There are two kinds of limo drivers. There are the frumpy rental limo guys struggling to appear classy in cheap ill-fitting suits. They usually have an accent from either Eastern Europe or the depths of Queens. This was the other kind, pressed, well-tailored and immaculate, someone who worked for only one discerning client. This guy stood straight and tall like a US Marine, which he probably had been at some point in the not too distant past.

  "Yes I'm Rebecca Stewart. Can I help you?"

  "My employer asked me to pick you up. He would like a meeting with you."

  "And who is your employer?"

  "Mr. Peter Drake, I believe you’re familiar with him."

  "Peter Drake?" I replied in disbelief. Drake was probably the most successful businessman in America. He'd made billions, primarily as a "corporate raider", buying up businesses and then gutting them for their assets. Drake had diversified into electronics, aerospace and a myriad of other high-risk sectors, always earning a profit where others failed. I had written my college thesis about Drake, exploring the psychology that drove him to success. It was equal parts clinical analysis and schoolgirl crush. "Why would Peter Drake want to meet with me?"

  The driver reached into his jacket and handed me a bound document. I stared at it for a moment in disbelief… it was my college thesis.

  Without another word the driver opened the door and politely gestured for me to climb in.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Twenty minutes later we arrived at Drake International's headquarters, a fifty story building on the Brooklyn side of the bridge. Some claimed Drake chose the location to take advantage of the burgeoning Brooklyn real estate market. Others say he just liked the view of Manhattan.

  The driver escorted me through the still bustling lobby. Drake's various enterprises didn't keep to any traditional schedule.

  We walked to a private elevator. The driver entered a key-code and stepped back.

  "This will take you directly to Mr. Drake's private offices. I'll be waiting down here to drive you home."

  My mind raced as I rode up to the fiftieth floor. Drake's private offices were legendary… in that so few had ever seen them. I've heard rumors that even heads of state were denied access.

  The door opened, and I stepped into Drake's private domain. I'm not an art lover, but I instantly recognized works by Dali and Picasso decorating the foyer. Handmade bookshelves lined the walls. I studied the shelves as I passed, surprised to find priceless first editions alongside battered Raymond Chandler paperbacks. Obviously Mr. Drake's books weren't just window dressing.

  The view through the full-length windows was stunning, showcasing the priceless beauty of the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. Beyond it lay Manhattan in all its glory. I wondered how often Drake stood here looking out… master of all he surveyed.

  "Weaker men meditate on the complexities of terms like moral, ethical and legal. But the true conqueror whether in business or government does not allow these terms to impede his actions. To him these are issues to be sorted out later."

  I turned; shocked to hear my own words being quoted. Peter Drake stood fifteen feet away, hands folded behind his back, his blue eyes studying me.

  "Your own words I believe?" He added, "I hope I didn't misquote them."

  "No," I replied, trying to sound calm, "I think you got it exactly right, actually."

  "Very insightful for such a young woman," He said, approaching me, "And quite unfashionable in the politically correct world of academia. Most people frown on my tactics, but you understand and embrace them."

  Up close his eyes were even more clear and penetrating. There were flecks of gray creeping into his tousled brown hair, but from his strong features it would be impossible to guess his exact age. His suit was immaculate, carefully tailored to his lean body.

  "Sadly I haven't had the chance to act on them given my job," I said. I instantly regretted mentioning my mere peasant status.

  "True, your talents are being wasted in your current position."

  I was nervous, not only was I meeting someone I idolized professionally, but I also found Drake incredibly attractive. I'm not ashamed to admit that after long days of researching him I had occasionally let my libido take charge after dark.

  "You stated that to succeed in the world of business a person had to make moral sacrifices, and that the ends justified whatever means were required. Do you truly believe that?" His gaze never wavered as he spoke.

  "Yes I do," I replied, "The corporations of today are on the scale of ancient empires, and all empires were built aggressively. Any short term damage done is overshadowed by the growth and prosperity that rises in its wake."

  "I've studied you very carefully," He said, turning to the full-length window, "You're a fascinating, intelligent and very attractive young woman."

  The attractive part struck me. Was this about sex? I didn't mind because truth be told, I'm a power groupie. For me Peter Drake was pretty much Jagger, Bowie and Morrison rolled into one.

  "Thank you Mr. Drake,"

  "Please, call me Peter. Rebecca are you uncomfortable about my mentioning how attractive you are?"

  "No, not really," God, was he psychic or was I just too easy to read? "But I'd assume a man like you has his choice of hundreds of eager women."

  "Yes, that's true, many women approach me offering sex or sex dressed up as love. Of course they all want something in return. They are willing, but have very clear boundaries. And where's the fun in that? It's only challenging when a woman doesn't know how far she's willing to go and is ready to test her limits."

  If he wanted to shock me, it wasn't working. The more he spoke of limits, the more
fascinated I became.

  "Rebecca I've mentored many young women who have gone on to great careers. But to do that I must ensure that they share my passion and willingness. Once they prove that to me, I know they can succeed in the business arena." He turned and approached me again, his face inches from mine. "Do you want to succeed?"

  "Yes I do," I replied with absolute certainty. He was so close I could have kissed him, but I suspected that would be too simple. The tension was palatable on both our parts. He leaned forward.

  "I want you to take your panties off," He whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

  It may surprise some, but I barely hesitated. I was enthralled. Of course I was still human, and so nervously I raised my skirt up a bit, and lowered my panties to the floor, wishing I'd worn a nicer pair. I stepped out of them, but he showed no interest in picking them up.

  He picked something up off a nearby shelf and placed it in my hand. It was a specimen cup.

  "I need you to fill the cup, but please don't spill any on the floor. Persian rugs are difficult to clean," He said in a matter of fact tone.

  He took a step back. I glanced around hoping he would point me towards a bathroom. No such luck. If this was a test I didn't intend to fail. I slipped the cup under my skirt, and took a few breaths. I felt a trickle start and was careful not to let it escalate. My hand shook a little. Imagine if my biggest opportunity in life vanished because I peed on the carpet like a scared puppy. After a few seconds I deftly removed the cup without spilling a drop. He held out his hand.

  "Don't worry, I have no sexual interest in urine, but you have to be careful about diseases," He said, screwing the cap back on, "I'll have this checked for STD's tonight. Meet me here tomorrow at noon for our first lesson. We will have three lessons before you… graduate."