Teaching Abby
Surrender, Book Two
Becca Jameson
Copyright © 2020 by Becca Jameson
Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. And resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or 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.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Newsletter
Acknowledgments
About the Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Author’s Note
Also by Becca Jameson
About the Author
Join my newsletter to stay up to date on all things Becca Jameson!
Becca’s Newsletter Sign-up
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my amazing fans for all your kind words and support for this series. It means the world to me that so many people were willing to take a chance as I entered this new world. I’m truly humbled. You all keep me going every day!
About the Book
It’s a summer internship.
Never mind that the owners are hot.
Never mind that there are three of them.
Never mind that they are twice her age.
Never mind that they have a secret “play" room in the basement.
Never mind that she’s never been more intrigued in her life.
She only has three months.
No matter how deeply she gets involved, she can’t stay…
Prologue
Master Levi
It was my idea.
I thought we should hire an intern for the summer. Julius and Beck both think I’m crazy. And maybe they’re right. But I still think it’s the right thing to do.
Our business has been stagnant for the last few years, and I attribute part of that to lack of change. We need a female perspective. We do fine without one, but occasionally we lose a potential client because they prefer a female to do their photo shoot.
It’s just a trial run. We aren’t keeping this woman. She’s not even available past August. I’ve selected her intentionally so that Julius and Beck won’t worry about her possibly overstaying her welcome.
I get that it’s complicated. Our arrangement is complicated. It will be difficult to keep our private lives private. But surely we can manage to do so for one damn summer. It’s not like we haven’t gone three months without a woman in our beds before.
I shift in my chair as I flip through the pictures of her on my computer screen for the tenth time today.
Abigail Wise.
I received a dozen applications from females for this internship, and I immediately looked every one of them up on social media. It’s the natural thing to do.
Abigail stood out to me from the moment I saw her smile. Yes, she’s incredibly gorgeous, but that’s not the only thing that caught my attention. She’s obviously carefree and fun. Her social media is clean as a whistle. The only pictures she has are of her with her grandfather and her with a woman I assume is her best friend.
She doesn’t have pictures of drunken nights in bars or boyfriends or even dates. She looks younger than I know her to be also.
There’s something about her. I knew she was the one the moment I set eyes on her pictures. My partners are right. I’m crazy. I should not be choosing an intern based on her looks or even her smile. And I definitely shouldn’t pick someone who makes my cock hard and my mouth dry.
It’s a horrible idea.
It’s also a done deal.
Chapter 1
Abby
The first time I held a camcorder in my hands, I was five years old. My grandfather got it for me for my fifth birthday. A Panasonic. In retrospect, I realize this was an unusual gift for a kid that young and almost too heavy for me to hold, but I hadn’t been like other children. I hadn’t really ever been a child at all.
I was born in Boston, Massachusetts with a silver spoon in my mouth.
I’ve never wanted for anything.
I’ve been sheltered and coddled.
That’s what happens when your parents die before your first birthday and you move in with your wealthy grandfather and his staff. Everyone who works for my grandfather loves me to pieces. They raised me as a team effort, especially since my grandfather has been a busy man his entire life. He still has his own law office: Alistair Wise, Attorney at Law. He takes his job very seriously.
My parents died in a boating accident overseas, but I don’t remember them, so being raised by a staff of eight is the only normal I’ve ever known.
For twenty-two years I’ve been pampered and protected, but I’m ready to branch out. Grow up. Move on. I’m about to graduate from Harvard, the same as my father, my mother, and my grandfather. I’ve been accepted into the law program there, and I start this fall.
Videography is a hobby. I still have that first camcorder and the dozen others that followed it as I switched to digital. I’ve spent countless hours over the years videotaping anyone who will let me—mostly my grandfather’s staff.
Soon after I acquired that camcorder, my grandfather taught me how to use the computer. By the time I had a top-of-the-line digital recorder, I was editing everything I shot.
Every member of my grandfather’s staff had a role in raising me. Among them was Geraldine, our cook. She thought a proper young lady should learn something useful in the kitchen. So, I convinced her to let me film her as she cooked, and then I edited her work, creating the best how-to videos I’ve ever seen that would teach anyone willing how to cook.
I never did learn to cook. After all, I didn’t pay attention to that aspect of the filming. I was more interested in splicing and editing, shortening the instructions. To this day, I still have a file of hundreds of videos featuring Geraldine. If I ever do decide to learn to cook, I have everything I need at my fingertips.
My grandfather is
kind and loving. He treated me like a small adult from the moment I was born. I appreciate everything he’s done for me. He provided me with the best education money could buy, and he bragged about my excellent grades and intelligence to anyone who would listen.
From a young age, I enjoyed pleasing him. The praise he showered on me pumped my ego. There was never any question that I would go to law school. Playing around with my video equipment is a fancy hobby, not a serious job.
When I got accepted to Harvard Law School, my grandfather threw me a party to celebrate. All his colleagues came. Except for my best friend, Sabine, I was the only person under the age of fifty.
I didn’t mind. I was excited. I’d made it. I fully intend to make him proud of me, not that there has ever been any doubt.
This is the last summer I’ll have to fool around for probably the rest of my life. As soon as I get to Harvard in the fall, I’ll need to buckle down and bury myself in law. I can’t wait. But I’m also looking forward to this summer.
My undergrad is in economics, and although I have no formal education in video production, what I lack in classroom time, I make up for in self-education.
I’ve never been as nervous as I am right now, holding the envelope in my hands.
“Are you going to open it?” Sabine asks.
I’m sitting in the kitchen in the apartment she’s just rented for graduate school. For the last four years, while I lived at home, she lived on campus. We’re adults now. I should really consider moving out also. But, it’s close to campus and hassle free. On the flip side, every time I come to Sabine’s place, I feel her newfound independence. Like today. I came straight here when I got the mail, not wanting to open the envelope alone.
I bite into my bottom lip, a habit I’ve developed over the years that started as something I subconsciously did whenever I was filming. Now it extends to nervous stress too. “Working up to it.”
Sabine laughs as she tucks a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. Hair I’ve been envious of since the day we met. It’s that perfect shade of red that no one could ever imitate with dye. Not fiery. Not orange. Just auburn. “You applied to several internships. This is the first letter. If it’s a rejection, there will still be others. Someone will hire you for the summer.”
“I know, but this is the one I want.” She’s right, but for some reason, the moment I saw this particular posting, I knew I wanted it. For one thing, it’s in Seattle. I’ve never been to Washington. In fact, growing up in Boston, I have lived about as far away from the state of Washington as a person can get and still be in the continental US.
I’m secretly dying to spend what I consider my last free summer as far away from the real world as possible. In addition, though I’ve never said this out loud to anyone, including Sabine, every time I check out their website, the two men who own Vanguard Media Specialists make my body ache in a way I’ve never experienced.
It’s absurd, of course. I shouldn’t consider traipsing across the country to intern for two men I’m sexually attracted to. I’ve lost a few marbles. But I can’t help it. If I’m going to do something I love for three months, why not do it with two sexy hunks?
Levi Romano and Beck Lewis. Their names are engraved in my mind already. Levi is dark-skinned with short dark hair and dark eyes that look almost black to me in his pictures and videos. Mouthwatering.
Beck is the opposite. Naturally blond with pale skin and light blue eyes. Panty-melting. Both men look tall and broad to me on their website. I’ve seen pictures of them towering over some of their clients.
Levi has a mischievous look that makes his eyes dance. Beck appears to be slightly more serious, but he still has a smile that makes my lips dry. I’ve spent too much time memorizing them. I can pretend that I need to be overly familiar with everything I can find on them, but the truth is, they’re easy on the eyes.
“Abby?” Sabine encourages. “Open it already.”
I take a deep breath and carefully tear along the top flap. As soon as I slide the tri-folded letter out and open it, the only word I see is congratulations. That’s all I need. I’m shaking with excitement.
Chapter 2
Master Levi
“Tell me again why we’ve hired an intern?” Beck asks as he leans back in his desk chair, tapping his fingers against his chin.
I narrow my gaze at him. “We’ve had this discussion. You know it’s good for business to have a woman working here.”
“We’ve done fine without a woman for ten years.”
“And fine is our standard?” I ask, cocking my head to one side. Of the three of us who own Vanguard Media Specialists, Beck is the most cautious. Julius and I usually have to nudge him for weeks every time we make a change.
“Okay, but she’ll only be here three months. How is that helpful?”
“Listen,” Julius interrupts before clearing his throat. “Who gives a fuck about gender or timing? Do you two realize who this woman is?”
I nod toward Julius who is currently leaning against the windowsill, casually, his expression serious and concerned. As usual. “Yes. I did my research.”
“Not me,” Beck states, sitting up straighter. “Someone want to fill me in?”
Julius shifts his gaze from me to Beck. “Abigail Wise. Her grandfather is Alistair Wise.”
“The Alistair Wise?” Beck asks. “The high-power attorney in Boston who represented Congressman Chase Gorman last year?”
“That’s the one.” Julius nods. Julius is our silent partner, the one who put up most of the seed money. He’s the manager of a local fetish club, Surrender. In addition, he works as a financial manager with the owner of that club, Roman Cortell.
I stride farther into the spacious office, trying to figure out what I want to say next. The truth is that Abigail Wise intrigues me. The woman has no measurable experience to back up her application. Of all the candidates I interviewed for this summer internship, she really shouldn’t have made the top three.
I have no idea what her actual skill sets are. Her undergrad is in econ. She’s heading to law school in the fall. Why on earth the woman wants to do a summer internship in video production is a mystery. All of her experience stems from playing around on her own over the years.
Julius groans, and I shift my gaze to him. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you didn’t hire her because she’s cute.”
I mostly did. Yes. The look on my face gives me away.
“Seriously, Levi?” Beck stands now.
I hold up both hands. “Chill. Both of you. Abigail Wise has hundreds of hours of experience in this field. She’s also friendly and funny and yes, attractive. She’ll be good for our image.”
“You can’t possibly be thinking about getting in her pants,” Julius reprimands.
“Of course not,” I reply, shaking my head, even though I’m lying. Not that I would actually make a move on the woman. But, yes, I’ve thought about it.
Julius narrows his gaze. “She’s half our age.”
I flinch. “As if that’s ever stopped us.”
Julius shoves off the windowsill and stands taller. He blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair.
I continue. “She’s twenty-two, and stop looking at me that way. I’m not going to sleep with her. None of us are. We’re going to employ her for the summer. It’s the perfect opportunity because she has no intention of staying. She made that clear. Video editing is a hobby for her, and she wants this experience before she goes to law school. Win-win. We get to see how we feel about adding someone to our team without worrying about that person deciding they want to stay.”
“Uh-huh,” Julius responds, not believing me. “Just be fucking careful. The last thing we need is bad publicity.”
I shake my head. “Not going to happen.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. Myself or my partners. I’ve totally hired Abigail based on a hunch. A feeling. Not just her looks, but her personality over the phone. Her exuberance. She’s a breath of fresh
air. A gorgeous breath, yes, but looks aren’t everything. They never are.
It’s an unusually sunny day in Seattle, so light is streaming in through the large picture window at Beck’s back. His office is bright this morning even without the overhead lights. Of the three of us, Beck is the artsy one. The walls in this room are white and covered with abstract art. His desk is also white. He likes clean lines and splashes of color in his world.
In contrast, my office, next door to his, is done in darker colors with mahogany furniture, deep brown hardwood floors, and beige walls. I have frames of black and whites I’ve taken over the years adorning the walls.
A chime rings at the front of our business, indicating someone has entered. “That’ll be her,” I whisper as I turn around and stride out of Beck’s office. It’s a Sunday afternoon. She will have come straight from the airport. I told her on the phone yesterday we would meet her here and then get her situated after touring the office space.
Teaching Abby (Surrender Book 2) Page 1