by Claire Adams
"I wish Mom could be here to see this," Riley said quietly as she fussed with the robin's egg blue sash on her dress, trying to get it to lie flat against her waist. I set my bouquet down and fixed it, and said a small prayer of thanks that she hadn’t fought me on wearing a dress for the wedding.
"I wish she could be here, too," I said as I wrapped my arms around my niece and hugged her tightly. "But at least we know she's in peace."
Jack's investigator had followed Molly's trail of letters and had done some digging into what had happened once she arrived in Florida. A week before the wedding, he'd sent Jack a full report of his findings in which he'd detailed Molly's last weeks and her death. According to the coroner's report on Jane Doe #473-229, Molly had overdosed on alcohol and cocaine and been buried in a pauper's graveyard at an old church in Tallahassee.
For two days after we'd learned the news, Riley was silent, and on the third day, she came down for breakfast, smiled, and thanked Jack for finding out what had happened. I asked her if she wanted to talk about it, but she shook her head and poured herself a bowl of cereal. Later, Jack asked if we should send her to see a counselor, but I told him it would be better to wait and see what Riley wanted before forcing her to do something. He agreed, and so we waited.
"Now that Mom and Gram are gone, you're my only family," she said looking at me. I nodded and bit my lip to hold back the tears. Mama had passed away in her sleep a month after the engagement party, and while it had been a relief to know that she wasn't suffering from the years of hard drinking and poor health, I still missed her.
"We've got Patrick," I interjected.
"He's a priest," she said rolling her eyes. "He doesn't count."
"Don't tell him that!" I chuckled as I took one last look in the mirror and nodded at my reflection.
Patrick had agreed to officiate at the ceremony, and although Jack and Lincoln had made peace after the blow out over Baby Steps, Jack hadn't wanted him to be his best man. So Riley was doing double duty as best man and maid of honor. Norma, Betty and I had helped her pick out a dress that wasn't too girly, but was appropriate for a summer, backyard wedding. She looked lovely with her hair done and a hint of makeup on her face. I was happy that she'd turned out okay after all the drama, but I also knew we had a long road ahead of us since she would soon turn thirteen.
Jack and I had decided to keep the wedding a small affair and had only invited immediate family and our Baby Steps friends. We'd had the wedding organizer set up casual benches for the vows. And we decided to turn the backyard into a dance floor over the pool and had an outdoor barbecue rather than have it be a formal affair. Jack had decided to wear the suit he'd worn the day he'd met me and had suffered the accidental nosebleed. I wore my mother’s dress. Everything seemed perfect.
"You look impeccable," Riley said as she linked her arm with mine and said, "Let's go show Jack!"
I descended the stairs with Riley's help, and as the music began to play, I lifted my chin and walked confidently toward our new life.
*
"Close your eyes," I whispered as I started up the steps. It was well past midnight when I carried my bride up the staircase to our new bedroom so she could see the surprise I'd been working on for the past few months.
We'd agreed not to live in the house until after the wedding ceremony, but I'd spent many evenings overseeing the installation of our new furniture and custom made cabinetry in the bedrooms. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, setting her gently down on the carpet and closing the door behind us. I said, "Okay, open them."
Leah slowly opened her eyes and looked around the room. I watched as she took it all in, her eyes growing wider with each discovery of something new and amazing. I'd created a seating area around the fireplace where we could sit and talk, or just relax with a book. The plump sofa and chaise were made of the softest microfiber in muted, earthy tones and draped with plush angora throws that accented the colors.
I'd had the workmen create walk-in closets for us on either side of the enormous turquoise tiled bathroom. In Leah's closet, there were enough drawers and shelves to accommodate her growing wardrobe, and a dressing table that lit up so she could put on her makeup or do her hair in private. Like the rest of the bedroom, the floor was highly shined wood with a few thick throw rugs placed around the room.
But the crowning glory of the room was the bed. An enormous four-poster bed with a canopy that draped across the posts, giving the area an exotic feel. The bed was covered in a thick duvet that was embroidered with our intertwined initials in the center.
"My God, Jack, it looks like we live at the Ritz," she exhaled as she turned in place and took in the entire room.
"Then you like it?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"I love it," she said smiling as she turned and wrapped her arms around my neck. "And I love you, Mr. Yates."
"I love you, too, Mrs. Yates," I smiled as I wrapped my arms around her and softly kissed her lips. "I live to make you happy."
"Already done," she said, kissing me back.
My fingers fumbled to find a zipper on the back of her dress before realizing that she was buttoned in. I sighed as I turned her around and began the onerous task of sliding each one of the delicate pearl buttons through its corresponding loop with one hand. I slowly ran the other hand down the front of her dress. Leah sighed as I undid the last button and slid the dress off of her shoulders, letting it pool around her feet.
I quickly shed my tie and shirt before turning her around. She looked lovely bathed in the low light, and I breathed deeply as I bent and scooped her up, carrying her to the bed. Leah moaned softly as I ran my tongue up the side of her neck before setting her down. I slipped out of the rest of my clothes before I knelt on the bed between her legs and finished undressing her.
Although we'd made love many times between the engagement and our wedding day, when I reached down and positioned myself at the edge of her wet opening, I felt a sense of reverence as I slid inside her. I moved slowly inside her, feeling every warm, wet inch enveloping me, losing myself in the sound of her deep moans as I stroked her closer and closer to the edge.
"Jack," she cried as I reached between her legs and pressed my finger against the spot that made her body sing. "I can't … oh my God …"
"You feel so good," I whispered into her lips as I gritted my teeth and slowed my thrusts even more. Leah cried out, begging me to speed up, but I wanted the moment to last forever. I continued my long slow thrusts, knowing that I wasn't going to be able to keep this up for much longer. The need in me was rising, and the feeling of Leah wrapped around my aching shaft drove me almost to the edge.
"Oh, oh, oh," she moaned as my fingers combined with the pressure and the movement to send her flying. I could feel her orgasm starting deep within her as she began to pulse around me. Two more strokes. She cried out as she pushed her hips up against mine and let go. She groaned, "Now, harder! Harder!"
I lifted her hips up off the bed and thrust into her as hard and fast as I could, over and over again. I could feel my own release just out of reach until she moaned, "Oh God, yes, Jack, that's it! Take me!" I pulled back and then plunged deep into her as I felt my body let go and release everything I'd been holding back. My face went cold as the waves of pleasure rolled through my body and released inside of her.
I held her tightly as I lay on top of her, feeling her relaxing under me as I kissed her face and lips. Leah looked up at me with her blue eyes soft and gentle. She caressed my cheek.
"I love you, Mr. Yates," she whispered, then kissed my lips. "This has been the best day ever."
"I love you, too, Mrs. Yates," I said, smiling down at her.
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The Boss Box Set
The Complete Boss Romance Series
By Claire Adams
&n
bsp; This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams
THE BOSS #1
CHAPTER 1
ARIA
I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the heartfelt and endlessly awkward confession of romantic allegiance that one of my customers was currently delivering. Would he notice if I stealthily put my headphones on?
On a normal day, I let men down easy. An eight-hour shift at the bank immediately following forty-eight hours of no sleep and two very difficult midterms does not constitute a normal day. I squinted at the gentleman in front of me, who seemed mesmerized by the palms of his hands based on the way he was staring at them. Mitch? Mark?
“And, you know, I come here, like, every day at the same time because, you know, like, that’s when your shift is,” he was mumbling, eyes firmly on his palm. “Sometimes I, like, just come and deposit some cash only to withdraw it the very next day for no other reason other than to see you.”
Really? I could have never guessed. It’s pretty normal for people around here to make daily deposits and withdrawals of exactly $200 without fail for a whole month. Moron.
“Listen,” I said finally. He looked up and made eye-contact just for a split second—long enough for me to notice the droplets on his horn-rimmed glasses. Sweat? Oh God. “I am really flattered but-”
“But girls like you don’t go out with guys like me.” I could almost hear the whimper in his voice now. “I get it.”
Shit.
“No no no no! I’m engaged,” I blurted without thinking. “To – to…” Surveying the room frantically, I pointed at the only logical direction, cringing with fear and embarrassment at the thought that this interaction might have an audience. “To him. My boss. He is very possessive so you should be careful. He owns the bank and he is well connected. If he learns of this he has the power to ruin your credit, and believe me, he will do it. You should find a different branch to go to from now on to be safe – switch banks even if you have to! It’s in your best interest.”
The man I was pointing at flashed a crooked smile, his eyes firmly rested on his computer, and I felt my chest fall. Don’t be silly Aria, there is no way he can hear you. He was at least fifty feet across the hall, inside his office behind a solid glass door. He would have to have superhuman hearing abilities to be able to hear this conversation. Although, it would hardly surprise me if he did possess such a skill; almost everything about Zayden Sinclair was a notch above the average human.
At thirty-two he was the owner and CEO of the Southern National Bank empire, but you didn’t need to know about his economic stature to feel the power that he exuded through sheer physical presence. He had the tendency to command the attention of anybody within a five-mile-radius without so much as saying a word. Women of all ages gravitated towards him, and his dashing looks and defined physique were only partially responsible for the effect. In fact, dashing did not begin to accurately describe his rare combination of piercing blue eyes, perfectly chiseled jawline, and dark, wavy hair straight out of a men’s shampoo commercial. Sometimes I could swear I saw his six-packs defined through his shirt, or even his sweater. Maybe my imagination interfered at that point.
And my imagination is where Zayden’s shirtless body should remain. I had seen too many girls fall prey to his charms and had no interest in losing the job that kept me in college just because I couldn’t control the desire to touch whatever was underneath that shirt. This branch went through tellers faster than the days of the week, and I wasn’t going to become a number in the statistical chart of Zayden’s conquests.
***
Half an hour later I was thankful for the clock to indicate it was my lunch break. After my admiring customer left holding back tears, there was a sudden stream of traffic in the teller’s booth, and I had to deal with an old woman who accused the bank of stealing from her. It shouldn’t be that difficult to convince somebody that a multi-million dollar corporation would gain nothing from robbing an old lady of fifty bucks.
I was relieved to find that the pantry in the back end of the bank was empty. Normally I enjoy some commotion but today I was just really tired, mentally and physically. And hungry. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. I sat down on the first table looking away from the door and removed the box of leftover sushi from my bag. Before I could open it, however, I heard a very familiar voice.
“So when’s our wedding?”
Shit. I could hear the thudding sound of my chest as though it were adjacent to my ears. It must have been a whole minute before I gathered the courage to slowly turn around, ignoring the chills in my fingers.
“You heard that?” I laughed. Thank you Acting 101 Gen-Ed requirements. “Spying on your tellers now? The NSA would be so proud.”
Zayden’s lips crooked very slightly. Was that a smile? Was he amused? Angry? Oh God, I really couldn’t tell.
“We keep a microphone at the tellers’ booth in every branch for surveillance, in case there is any suspicious activity from a customer. Handling money is serious business.”
I actually knew that. How could I have been so stupid?
“Which is why I made up that little story about us, so that guys like that don’t continue to distract me from my very serious job of handling your money.”
I was quite surprised by the confidence in my own voice.
He laughed. Phew. It was an adorable laugh and I wouldn’t mind kissing him while he did it. No wonder the other tellers couldn’t keep their hands off of him with his dashing looks. Men this powerful are hard to turn down.
He was fumbling with a button on his coat and I tried hard not to wish that my nipples were his buttons. I should have been embarrassed; he had heard me claim I was engaged to him, and imply he was connected to the mob. If embarrassment was the socially acceptable reaction to such a situation, then why the hell was I so aroused? He was coming closer and I momentarily forgot how to breathe.
“Let me make you a proposition,” he said as he sat down across from me. “We will never have to speak about of your encounter with that bespectacled guy if you let me take you out to lunch tomorrow.”
“I have to work,” I said automatically.
Was I even breathing? I couldn’t be sure.
“I’ll pay you to take the whole day off. And maybe after lunch we can spend the whole day in my apartment being, you know, ‘married’ for the day.”
He winked. I felt my pulse rising. Right now I couldn’t think of a single reason to turn his offer down, but I had to get ahold of myself. This was what Zayden did, and I was smarter than the women who fell for it.
“Sure, we can meet each other’s parents and raise some children after,” I laughed. It wasn’t a convincing laughter. I got up before things could get out of hand. “I’ll eat this later. Have a nice day Mr. Sinclair,” I said and walked away without looking back.
This must have been what a tornado felt like.
CHAPTER 2
ZAYDEN
I looked at the girl lying next to me with a mixture of confusion and amusement. I was pretty sure she was faking sleep. Just like last night she had pretended to be too intoxicated to go home, even when I suggested I would have my chauffeur drive her in one of the limos. Girls like this got on my nerves, and I was starting to regret taking her back to my place.
Not that I wasn’t used to girls clinging on like this; usually, however, after a good fuck I would just tell them that I was “emotionally unavailable.” There would be some crying, but eventually those words would drive women to flee without much egging on my part. I let out an involuntary snort. Women. All I knew was it worked. Anything worked. Everything worked.
Most of the time, anyway. Very rarely did women deny my advances, and Aria Roberts had been th
e first in countless years to so casually turn me down. It excited me to maddening degrees; it had gotten far too easy for me to get women and I needed a good challenge. But last night, I was so frustrated that I picked up the first pair of sexy boobs that flashed in my face at the Tavern. Boring personality, if she had one at all, and an even more boring lay. I had half the mind to finish myself off in the middle of it, but felt sorry for the poor soul. Another reason it pissed me off that she was still lying comfortable in my king-sized bed.
“Wake up!” I tapped her shoulders. “Quick! It’s time to go home.”
She opened her eyes slowly and got out of the covers, still naked. She did have nice breasts; maybe it wasn’t the worst pick-up ever after all.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, ruffling her hair. Trying to be cute. Women. “I didn’t realize I over-slept. I was…”
Yeah, the breasts were really something. She was rambling on but I didn’t catch a single word, or care to. I felt myself get harder watching her nipples and just threw her back into the bed. She seemed way too excited about it; I’d have to deal with it later but for now I just grabbed her and closed my eyes.
I thrust myself deep inside her, picturing Aria Roberts’ tiny body and perfect little ass in my mind. Fuck.
***
“Mrs. Sinclair asked me about your whereabouts this morning,” my driver Ned said.
I grunted. My mother had a way of getting on my nerves.
“Tell her I’m in Bali for the rest of the month.”
“I think she plans to surprise you with a visit,” he said apologetically.
Ned was one of the only people in the world I would trust with my life. He had been with our family for over two decades, and helped me keep it together when my dad passed away, six years ago today. It was the day of my MBA graduation and I was supposed to leave for a vacation to Spain that night; I had no real plans, no rush to hurry into a career. He had a stroke, and all of a sudden I was left without a father and without my youth, and with the South National Bank empire as compensation for my loss. Every single day of my life since that day six years ago has been dedicated to growing what my dad had built, to honor his legacy, to take his company further than his wildest imaginations.