“Have you ever taken yoga?” I ask, throwing off her bitchy vibe.
“What?”
“Meditation?” I continue unfettered.
“Excuse me?”
“Had your chakras realigned?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Yoga and meditation. Charkas. Pfft.” She waves a dismissive hand like I just spoke another language.
“You’d be a lot nicer, much happier, and your face would have fewer wrinkles if you practiced yoga and spiritual wellness.”
Her eyes widen to the size of saucers.
I dig through my purse and pull out a card. “Here’s a free yoga class card. It’s good for yoga, vinyasa flow, aerial, naked yoga, meditation—any class we offer, really.” I shrug. “You should give it a shot. You’d feel and look so much better.” This time I do offer my cheery smile again.
“Naked yoga?” she whispers.
I grin. “Totally. And it’s taught by this hunk named Atlas Powers.”
“A man teaches it?” She lifts a hand to her chest as if she’s shocked.
“Yep, it’s co-ed too. It’s all about freeing your societal restrictions. Challenging yourself to let go, release everything negative you are holding on to. Even the clothing you wear. Basically, it’s designed to set you free.”
“Wrinkles?” She presses her fingertips to a tiny line forming between her brows, probably from being so crabby all day at her job. “Yoga gets rid of wrinkles?”
“It can. If you are doing the right facial poses, as well as letting go of stress, getting good sleep, and drinking lots of water.”
The woman shakes her head and lifts her hand to take the card from the top of her desk. “Thank you,” she mumbles and looks down and away.
“No problem. Namaste, friend.”
“Friend.” She half laughs, as if me calling her friend is funny. I’m not sure why she would think it was so humorous. I’m a firm believer that anyone can turn into a friend, even if they are at first rude. Sometimes people do not realize how their actions hurt others. Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone deserves second chances. This is something I was taught by my mother and father, and I continue to live by that motto. It’s served me well over the years.
“Anyway, thank you. Go ahead and take a seat until Mr. Winters calls for you.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll just be over here reading.” I pull out my tattered and worn-out favorite book, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success by Deepak Chopra. Every time I lose my sense of self or my path in the business world or otherwise, I start reading about each law. The lessons he teaches in this self-help book guide a person through finding their own path to enlightenment and success in all things. It’s helped me a hundred times over, and I hope it does again.
Right as I finish thumbing through the section on the Laws of Least Effort, which refers to acceptance of a situation, taking responsibility, expending energy given through love, and keeping myself open to all points of view, the receptionist calls out to me.
“Mr. Winters will see you now.” She smiles softly, stands, and heads my direction. “Through these doors.”
Hey, I got the icy woman to smile, a good sign. Maybe my karma is turning around and is about to move in my favor. Though again, like Deepak teaches in his books, I have to be detached from what I want but still hopeful. If it happens, it happens. Be okay with the outcome you receive as it comes.
Right now, however, I’m not okay with any outcome other than this Mr. Winters person agreeing not to bulldoze my dream and my apartment, not to mention the bakery where I have breakfast every morning, the café where I eat my lunch or dinner every day, and the bookstore where I score all my favorites titles.
The receptionist leads me down a long hallway. We pass by a bunch of glass windows where I can see people on their phones or busily typing away on their computers. It’s weird, though, because the windows are glass, but they aren’t windows to see outside. They are windows to see the people inside.
A shiver ripples down my spine, and my hair stands up. It’s not a good feeling. I wouldn’t be able to work in a fishbowl. As it is, Lotus House is painted with murals depicting a forest, waterfall, and the ocean. I’m greeted by people who want to see me. They come just to see me and take my class and listen to my words and teachings. The thought of sitting behind a desk and being watched from the outside gives me a frightened feeling.
Silently, I send out a bit of soothing energy to the folks who work here, pushing love, light, and serenity their way.
The receptionist stops at a set of double doors at the very end of the hall. She knocks and then, without waiting, opens the door for me. “Mr. Grant. Luna Marigold,” she announces but doesn’t exactly introduce us. I can’t even see the man until I walk past her and through the door.
The office is huge, with a seating area, a bar, and a glass desk with chrome piping. The windows are not exactly floor to ceiling, but they are slanted, so he must have an amazing view of the city. The windows are frosted over, and I don’t know if this is a type of glaze or if it’s like one of those super-secret type blinds like in the movies. It reminds me of the way light filters through a shoji screen. It actually gives off a very calming effect, even though the rest of the room is black, white, and chrome, lacking any personality.
The big glass desk has a chair behind it, and I can see a head of dark hair peeking over the top, but he’s facing the other way.
“Okay, Father, thank you. I’ll handle it.” He turns fast, slams the phone into the cradle, and his eyes shoot to mine. They are the most piercing shade of sapphire blue. His hair is a dark mess of waves. His chin is slightly squared, with high cheekbones and a beautiful, strong, straight nose. His lips are what steal my attention. They are perfectly shaped with a dip on the top lip I’d like nothing more than to rest my finger against. The bottom lip is full, an elegant crescent shape, which suits his face.
In a word: Remarkable.
His eyes fill with something I can’t quite name before he stands, buttons his blazer, and comes over to me. I haven’t moved.
He holds out his hand. My goodness he’s tall. Well over six feet. Maybe six two or three.
“Grant Winters.”
I blink before extending my hand. The second our hands touch, a sizzle of energy so hot hits my palm. I jolt back a few steps and pull my hand away from his hold.
“I must have zapped you. I’m sorry.” He smiles.
Sweet Shiva. His smile. Even. White. Brilliant.
“Are you going to speak?”
I open my mouth, close it, and open it again until I manage to mutter, “Um…I’m Luna.”
“Luna.” His voice is a clear, crisp, masculine tone. Confident. Straightforward.
“Yes. Luna Marigold from Lotus House Yoga.”
He folds one arm over the other, and I watch the move as if he’s just performed a special dance. Every inch of him is mesmerizing, from the tip of his shiny black shoes, up his long legs, to his broad frame and tanned neck. He’s wearing a tailored navy suit, which fits him to perfection. His hair is the only thing a bit wild about him. Everything else is dialed in to the most minute detail.
“Wow,” I whisper, not realizing I let it out.
He grins. “I could say the same about you. Redheads are quite unique…special, even. Did you know that fewer than two percent of people are redheads?”
The question hits my sluggish brain and rolls around until something clicks. “Um, yeah. I did know that. Same with green eyes.”
Grant walks over to his desk and leans his bum against the surface. He crosses his ankles over one another while placing his hands on the top, fingers curling around the edge. Cool as a cucumber. Casual, almost approachable, definitely cocky.
“How can I help you today, Luna?”
Chapter Two
The Sanskrit name “Sahasrara” is often used for the seventh chakra. It can be translated as “thousand petals” in the form of the Lotus flower.
Her eyes are the color of pure blue skies. Hair a fiery curtain of waves around her pale, effervescent face. She’s a living, breathing Disney princess, and I want her. My teeth ache with the promise of her sweetness. And I know she’s sweet. I smelled melon the second she entered. Like a ripe, juicy cantaloupe.
She’s above average in height, maybe about five foot seven. A good balance to my six foot three. She’s long and slim but muscular in a way most women her age are not. I can see through the skin-tight leather blazer that her biceps are well-defined, and the cut of her thighs through her skinny jeans are far stronger than the models I usually date. She’s everything I’ve never had, and I’ll stop at nothing to get her.
Only I know the reason she’s here, and it’s not going to go well. I’m going to have to figure something out in order to get in her good graces, or she’ll never date me, let alone allow me to take her to my bed. Repeatedly. And often.
All I can think with her standing before me, practically quivering—full of fright, much like a newborn lamb unsure of her footing, of her place in her world—is that I’ll happily sweep her off her little feet.
I make my way to my desk and rest against it, prepared for the show, because there will be a show, of that I am certain.
“How can I help you today, Luna?” I attempt a sincere tone, hoping it puts me in a position where I can earn her trust, at least until she’s been in my bed and I’ve had my fill.
But something nags at the back of my neck and throbs at my temples. A warning. She’s more.
Better than the women you’ve dated.
The thought comes to me unhindered and straight from my gut. My gut is never wrong. Not in business or my personal life.
“Well…” She clears her throat and fingers a lock of her red hair. She’s nervous. Probably never had to stick up for herself or her business before. “I’d like to discuss the eviction notice you mailed me.”
“My receptionist stated this is in regards to the Lotus House Yoga Studio property?”
“Yes. Exactly.” She smiles, almost in relief.
“I own the property. It is mine to do with as I please. In fact, the entire street is.” I state this flatly, leaving no opportunity for her to mix this up as anything other than what it is. Business. Plain and simple.
She lets her hair go and holds her hands in front of her. “Mr. Winters, we have rented the property for two decades. Almost every business on that street has. Surely that’s worth something to you?”
“It is. About two hundred million dollars. None of which your rent or any of the other tenants on that street come close to. The location is prime real estate, and I’m planning to make it profitable again. Very profitable for my company.”
She swallows, and I watch the movement in her slender, swanlike neck. God, what I wouldn’t give to press a line of open-mouthed kisses from her ear to her clavicle and beyond.
Luna glances to the window unseeingly. I know she sees nothing because they’re frosted. I prefer the sun not beat against the glass, disrupting my work, as it sets. “What are you planning to do with it?”
I tip my head and focus on her gaze. Even though she’s nervous, her eyes are honest, forthcoming.
“Flatten it and rebuild. High-rise, executive, luxury apartments. It’s the perfect location. Far enough away from the city a businessman or woman will feel as though they’ve left work at work, but close enough to have a great view and the smaller city vibe and still be close enough to get to work within thirty to forty minutes.”
She blinks and her eyes fill with tears. “You’re going to destroy every business there?” She chokes out the question, emotion filling every word. “I can’t believe you’d get rid of everything. Lotus House, Sunflower Bakery, Rainy Day Café… I…I, sweet Shiva, that’s horrible!”
Her demeanor is cracking, and emotions are spilling out too fast for her to maintain her composure.
“You can’t do that! You just can’t. Mr. Winters, I beg of you.”
I beg of you.
The phrase hits my chest like a sucker punch. Hard and unrelenting. I’m surprised by the feeling. It’s unusual for me to feel anything other than what’s good for business.
“Luna, this is business. It’s not personal.” I attempt to continue, but she cuts me off by stomping right in front of me.
I have to spread my legs and grip the desk in order not to bump into her.
“Everything is personal.” She lifts her hand and points at my chest. “You. Me. Lotus House. The bakery. These are people’s lives, their livelihood. Don’t you understand that? You’re not kicking out businesses that will just pick up and find another location and continue as they were. You will be destroying lives. Can you live with the weight of your decision?” A tear slips down her smooth, pale cheek, and I cup her warm face and catch the tear against my thumb.
“Luna…”
“What do I have to do? What will make you reconsider this decision? I’ll do anything. For my friends, my teachers, my students, my legacy, I’ll do anything you ask. Just give us a second chance. Come and see what you’re destroying. Give me until the six months are up to change your mind. Whatever it takes.”
I push the curl off her forehead and behind her ear so I can see her entire face unobstructed. She’s magnificent.
“And what do I get?” I cock an eyebrow.
“What do you want?” She looks at me with sadness and fear in her gaze, and I hate it. Hate it with every fiber of my being. I want to see lust and desire burn in her bright-blue eyes.
“Well, you see, sweet lamb, I never make a wager I don’t have a hope of winning.” I lower my voice, almost conspiratorially, so she can feel the intensity of the statement.
She licks her lips and my dick notices, stirring from a long nap. Hell, it’s been weeks since I’ve been with a woman. I’m long overdue. Would help with dealing with my asshole father too. Take some of the tension away from our nightmare board meetings and the ridiculous goals he sets, which I’ll never for the life of me have a hope of achieving.
“What is it you desire? I doubt there’s anything I have that you’d want.”
“Oh, Luna. You sell yourself far too short.” I grin and run my thumb to her chin, lifting it up so our gazes are locked. “For it is you that I want.”
Her eyes almost bug out of their sockets. “Me!” Her voice is raspy from crying. I imagine it’s close to what she sounds like after a night between the sheets. I can’t wait to find out.
“Yes, lamb, you.”
She frowns. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Ah, she’s a smart one.
“To start, for every time you have me come to your little street in the Berkeley hills, for whatever it is you are going to show me, you have to go out on a date with me in return. My date, my choice; your date, your choice.”
Luna jerks her head and steps back far enough that I can no longer feel the heat of her body in my sphere of space. “A date? You want to date me?”
“Why does that sound so strange to you?” I chuckle.
Her gaze shifts from left to right, and she bites her bottom lip. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re…well…”—she holds both her hands gesturing toward me—“you. All big-business tycoon, and I’m a simple yoga teacher who runs a studio you’re planning to demolish.”
“Still not getting what your point is.” I cross my arms and lift a hand to my chin, waiting to hear what will come out of her succulent mouth next.
“We don’t fit.”
The second those three words leave her mouth, I hate them. Hate. Them.
I inhale, deeply and slowly, before raising my eyebrows. “However would you know until you’ve spent time with me? And I assure you, lamb…” My gaze goes to her chest, where a generous amount of cleavage can be seen, and then along her trim waist, flared hips, muscular thighs, down to her red-tipped toes. She could use a lesson on putting her clothes together; the shoes do not go with the leather blaz
er and jeans, but I like her quirky flare. More than that, I like her body and want to explore it. Without clothing. “We’d fit perfectly.” I finish my thought while continuing to imagine her naked and underneath me.
She lets out a strangled sound from her lips. “You just want to have sex with me.”
“Oh yeah.” I nod firmly. “That and more. Far more. Though I’m happy to court you properly. A woman like you, sugar sweet, compassionate… I’d like nothing more than to have you on my arm.”
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, and I have to cough back a groan. The moment her lip disappears, I imagine her lips disappearing around my cock. Fuck. This woman is bringing out a carnal side of me I have not seen in a long time.
“Let me get this straight.” She frowns.
A woman after my own heart. Present the facts, confirm, negotiate, seal the deal.
“For every time you meet me in Berkeley, I have to go on a date of your choosing with you. A date that does not have to end in copulation?”
Copulation.
Definitely smart.
“Exactly.”
“And during that time, you realize I’m going to be doing everything in my power to get you to change your mind about demolishing our businesses and building apartment high-rises.”
I grin. “Firmly aware that is your intention. Yes.” Firmly being the operative word. The longer this woman is close, her fruity scent swimming in the air around me, her music-like voice soothing me, my cock reacts. Soon I’m not going to be able to hide the evidence of my desire for the redheaded princess named Luna. Even her name could be one for a Disney royal character.
“Mr. Winters, this a highly unusual wager.”
“Be that as it may, the way I see it, do you really have a choice?”
Her gaze shifts to the floor, and she toes her sandal. “No, I guess I don’t. You’re on. Meet me at Lotus House tomorrow morning at eight sharp.”
“Eight? Lamb, I have work.” I chuckle.
She cocks her head. “Didn’t you say you were the boss?”
Oh, I like when the claws come out. Still, I don’t respond, letting her come to her own conclusion.
Enlightened End (Lotus House Book 7) Page 2