Chosen By Him

by Gracia Ford

  Chosen By Him

  Gracia Ford

  Copyright © 2015 Gracia Ford

  Chosen By Him

  Part I

  By Gracia Ford

  All rights reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Both author and editor have taken great effort in presenting a manuscript free of errors. However, editing errors are ultimately the responsibility of the author. This book is written in US English.

  Description

  He wants her and will stop at nothing to claim her...

  Alisha Clark comes from a small town in Kansas. She ran away to the Big Apple, a place where no one will judge your past or even care about it. She wanted to get away from locals knowing your business and then turning against you due to your past. She is nervous about her decision to leave Kansas, but within days of arriving she secures a job and a place to live. Everything falls into place for Alisha until she meets her boss. Carl Reid immediately becomes obsessed with her curves and starts toying with her mind. His obsession starts turns to possession as he leads her into a world of wealth and power.

  A world that a girl from a small town in Kansas never knew existed, until now.

  >***This book was previously called The Billionaire's Toy by T. B. Weakes & Secretary by Foxy Tale ***

  Chapter 1: Kansas

  “Don’t go,” mamma cried as I reached for my bags, trying to drag them into the truck.

  “I need to,” I wept as Tyler, my brother, held the truck door open, ready for me to jump in.

  “The Big Apple will eat you alive.”

  “I can’t stay,” were the last words I said to her as I closed my eyes, jumped into the truck, and drove to the airport.

  I’d lived in the small town of Montezuma for all of my life. I got fed up of not seeing the outside world and only seeing the same people at church, at the grocery store, and at work. We lived in a bubble, but I knew there was more to life than I’d seen. Mama begged me to go to New York on holiday and not to make it my home, but with the events in town it was too late for that. I had to leave.

  I wanted to go somewhere where no one cared about me, where no one wanted to know what I was doing or wearing. I wanted to be ignored. Living in Montezuma was unbearable.

  I left high school and started to work as a secretary for the local realtor—the only realtor in town. I enjoyed it a lot. John, my boyfriend at the time, hated it. He said he didn’t see the point of me working, but he would entertain the idea until we had kids and settled down. The bonus was when I was working I never had to be home for him to visit. I had that excuse to avoid the talks about when we were getting married, or even worse, about when we were starting a family.

  John was my childhood sweetheart and the nicest guy in the world. That was his problem: he was too nice. You could never argue with him, if you did you would just feel guilty afterwards. He was a nice guy. Everything about him was nice. He was slender from working on the farm. Brown hair, nice eyes. Nothing striking about him and nothing out of the ordinary. He was the same John from when we were little to when we finished high school.

  We finished high school, and soon after he started work and we started saving up to get our own place. “Why wait?” he would say, echoing the sentiments of both of our parents. It felt like the whole town was saying the same thing.

  That was when the pressure started. I had to leave. If I didn’t I would be hated by everyone. My fears were soon confirmed when I decided to go ahead with it.

  “When you two gettin’ married?” was the question I heard all day long, every single day.

  His mama wanted us to live with her, and my mama wanted us to live with her. I couldn’t bear the idea of being in a bedroom which I had been in since I was a child, with my old Backstreet Boys posters on the wall and with John fighting for space with my Barbie dolls. It was an excuse, the realization of which hit me when we moved into our own place.

  I also needed us to get a place so that if it didn’t work out, I had somewhere to go—back home to my parents. Besides, it just didn’t feel right. You grow up and you move out. You don’t grow up and then have your boyfriend move into your parents’ house with you.

  His bedroom antics consisted of asking the same question every time, “You wanna do it?” My answer would always be the same, “Sure.” What else could it be? If I refused him, he would tell me it didn’t matter and then spend all night asking why I wasn’t happy. It was easier to agree.

  I would lie in bed thinking about David Beckham or Justin Timberlake. Once, I made the mistake of calling David’s name while John was on top of me. It was actually an improvement on the previous time when I had been counting sheep. It was always the same position with him, the same question, the same everything. I got bored of sleeping with him, of being with him in general, and of living in that town.

  I was meant to be in the big city. Maybe even with a bad boy who treated me like dirt, who knows? I lived with creature comforts, with everything any girl could want, and I didn’t appreciate it. I didn’t want it. I wanted more. Mama said it was because Pops used to give me anything I wanted. Pops used to spoil me rotten; he never could resist my big blue eyes and curly blond hair.

  As I got older, men started to notice me. Not only did I have big blue eyes, I also had G-sized boobs to. I’m gifted in that department, and I like to make it known that they’re natural and all mine.

  I wasn’t happy. I was bored with our friends, our lifestyle, and my job. I needed to leave. I loathed being with John, and sometimes I would dread the time he came home. Sometimes I would make myself physically sick just so I didn’t have to talk to him. I realized it was time to move on. I needed to set him free so that he could find true love with someone who would appreciate him for the great guy he was, something I would never do.

  Maybe they were right, I´m selfish and only think of myself. His mama called me a whore. She said all blonds were whores. Not sure where she got her philosophy from, considering most people in town were brunettes, and the ones who weren’t had blond highlights in their hair.

  Mama said I take after my great grandmother, who had the longest blond hair in town. Everyone was jealous of her hair and all the men chased after her. Like a great woman once said, and as Mama always repeated, “Blonds have more fun!”

  In a small town, everybody knows everybody else’s business. So they all knew when I broke up with John. In a small town these acts are not forgivable, so it wasn’t just John's heart I broke, everybody seemed to suffer.

  Everyone refused to let it lie. Even nearly a year later, they were still talking about it. Carol Winters, the reverend’s wife, gossiped about it every Sunday at church. “I had your dress all sketched out. Ali, why’d you do that to little John? All he ever did was make you happy.”

  My response would always be the same, “I know. I don´t deserve him, so I let him go.”

  “Did it take you 15 years to realize that? You could have set him free a long time ago.”

  Really, I was supposed to realize that when I was only 5 years old? Please!

  They began to call me names at the realtor where I worked. They castigated me for breaking poor Little Johnny’s heart. Mama and Pops stopped being invited to the local fairs and other events, and Pops, who loved a good game
of cards, was excluded from the local bridge game. I felt that the only reason for this pain was because I wanted to follow my heart, and that didn’t lead me to John.

  After moving back in with my folks, I thought the best thing was to follow my heart and move to New York. I had no money, no job, and nowhere to live. It felt crazy at the time, but it felt even crazier to stay. The townspeople had conspired against me and I had very little chance of ever finding work again, not that I needed to work–I just loved having my own money and independence. My family was not welcome anywhere. I did it for them as much as for me. As soon as I left, the family resumed their previous schedule. The invites returned as soon as the whore left town.

  The town’s deputy used that word to describe me when playing a card game with Pops. He received a jab in the face. My departure for the big city hurt pops a lot.

  It was clear that I had to leave work. There were hardly any clients as it was, and with the news of my breakup things went to an all-time low. One day I overheard one of the townsfolk say, “If you didn’t have a slut working for you, then maybe you would have clients.” My boss kept me on because he didn’t like to be intimidated, but it’s hard not to be in such a small town.

  John ended up with Kelly, my best friend growing up. “You never wanted him, so what’s the big deal?” Mama asked me, and she was right, but it still felt weird. I was happy for him, but it seemed a little too close for comfort. I didn’t mind that they were together. It just got me thinking. I couldn’t understand why he chose her. Although there weren’t many people to choose from, with only around three hundred people in town.

  I saved a little money, and with the help of my brother and sister I moved to New York, hoping to get a job within a week. We didn’t have much, but we didn’t need much to live in our old town. Everything was taken care of. We owned the farm—passed on by my great, great, great granddaddy—and we all worked the land. I stopped when I graduated and I wanted to work at the realtor’s. Mama said that watching all those house programs when I was little put ideas in my head. The good folks of Montezuma do the work their families did; they don´t have any fancy ideas. “Next thing she’s going to be on Baywatch, running down the beach with bouncing breasts,” she added.

  I told her I was going to New York, not Hollywood. She didn’t want to let me go, but I had to. It was time to move on.

  Luckily, I got the job working for Carson within two days of moving. The day I arrived I joined an agency and they told me that I was just what CR Enterprises was looking for. I fit the profile, which I found a little weird, but when Jackson interviewed me it all felt a bit too good to be true. I had only worked at the realtor’s since high school, almost two years ago. Also, I’d spent my entire life in a small town and had never even been to such a big city until then. It was the first time I had travelled more than ten miles from home, so the idea of being a perfect fit was surreal.

  The agent said they were looking for someone with fresh ideas and who was new to the town, not someone who would take a job and then leave a few weeks later like most New Yorkers. They wanted someone who would settle down, find their feet, and stay.

  I was not quite sure what that meant, but I was up for the challenge. I had little money in my purse and the high rents I had seen in the press when I arrived meant that I needed a job soon, I never expected it to be so soon. But, I was grateful.

  I started work and was introduced to him—the man who answered all my prayers—on the third day of work. I had one word of warning from the other staff--be prepared to come alive when he walks into the room. That day he walked into the office at 8.29 a.m. and every part of me came alive. He caught my breath and he is still catching it now.

  Chapter 2: First Encounter

  As he walked into the Finance Department, all eyes were on him. Someone shouted, “He’s here,” when the elevator reached our floor. Then, like a gust of wind, everyone changed direction. It was like a headmaster inspecting the school on the first day back after the holidays. The elevator doors opened and I looked around to see what all the commotion was about. I couldn’t work out who “he” was, so I continued what I was doing, putting my bag in my locker and hanging my coat up.

  Everyone tried to look busy, shooting sneaky looks at him whenever they could. I stood and didn’t disguise the fact that I thought it was him—which I had guessed by the way Jackson was talking and walking by his side.

  Sandy, who worked in the same department, told me that the two of them were inseparable, but if that was the case why had Jackson been alone in the office for the last two days?

  As usual, Jackson was wearing his blue pinstripe suit and white shirt.

  Damn, did he ever change? Or did he have hundreds of the same suit?

  Jackson was quite good looking, with brown eyes and matching hair that was neatly slicked back on his head. The only problem with him was that he made me feel nervous when he interviewed me and even then, watching him walk through the office, I’ was anxious. He talked too fast and walked with the same pace.

  I cast my eyes to my desk and sat down in my chair. I had just arrived a few moments ago. The spring air in Manhattan was cold and wet, not a pleasant morning, but it was about to get more interesting.

  Carson wore a grey suit, with a black shirt and matching grey tie. I wasn’t an expert on male clothing, but the match was astounding and unique. You could tell it was expensive by the way the trousers were cut against his thighs, almost molding to him as he walked. It felt like he was walking towards me, as his eyes didn’t leave me for a second.

  I had to check myself. Sometimes, when I have my period, my breasts become a little too perky, and I thought that had happened. I looked down at my blouse to make sure they had not spilled out. They hadn’t, but I saw that my nipples were hard. He was sending a chill through my body, gazing at me like that. My lace bra had adjusted itself to the movement of my nipples, and I straightened my black skirt anxiously as he moved closer and closer towards me.

  He was smoking hot. My whole body was on fire, and I felt like I needed to be hosed down. My eyes moved back to his. He was still watching me, getting closer and closer to my desk.

  He stopped in front of me and I took a long deep breath as he stared at me with his hazel eyes. He ran his hands through his wavy, jet black hair, and for a second I thought of Rob Lowe in St. Elmo’s Fire, when he was young and mischievous. As he drew closer to me, I realized that his eyes were more brown, than green. A small frown spread across my face as I tried to figure out the color of his eyes.

  “Oh, this is Alisha Clark, your new secretary,” Jackson said as he looked up from his iPad and realized why they had stopped in front of his office. I stood up, still unable to get my eyes of Carson.

  “Carson Reid,” he said, extending his hand for me to shake.

  I was incredibly nervous and began to worry that a strand of hair was out of place. I quickly brushed it behind my ear before reaching out to shake his hand. As I extended my hand, he moved in closer and, as I shook his hand, he whispered in my ear, “There’s no hair out of place, everything’s perfect.”

  As the words escaped his mouth, he pulled back. I held my breath and closed my eyes, smelling the musk that he was wearing.

  How could one man look so sexy and smell like it at the same time? Was that even possible?

  He walked into his office with Jackson continuing to read as he trailed behind him. I turned my head and watched them. He was standing behind his desk looking at me. Jackson, realizing the door was open, quickly shut it and blocked my view.

  I turned and sank into my chair, hot and flustered. I looked up and noticed that I wasn’t the only one who had noticed that he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Megan looked at me and shook her head, her long brown curls swaying from side to side, while Olivia simply smiled and gave me a wink.

  Everyone returned to what they were doing before the words, “he’s arrived” were blurted out. I found it a bit weird, as it wasn’t like Mr. Re
id would fire them on the spot for acting like that. He couldn’t. I suppose it’s office mentality; always make sure you look busy when the boss is around.

  I took a deep breath and tried to remember what I was doing before he walked into the office.

  ***

  “He’s hot, I mean too hot. How am I going to take notes working with him?” I asked as we all ate lunch on the ground floor of the building. I found it amusing, because in Montezuma we used to go to one person’s desk and share the food from home. We would take it in turns to bring in our dishes. Everyone loved when it was my turn. No one ever turned their head at Mama’s cooking.

  “You need to be careful, girl. I saw the way you were looking at him,” Megan said.

  “In her defense,” Olivia replied, “I saw the way he was looking at her.”

  I nodded in agreement. I couldn’t deny that it was a two-way street. I wasn’t the only one staring, that was clear. Besides, it was none of her business.

  Who made her office deputy?

  “Course he was staring. What man can keep his eyes off those?” she blurted, pointing at my breasts.

  All of a sudden I felt self-conscious. She said it loud enough for the table next to us to hear and look over. I began to wish I was wearing a jacket so I could hide them. I knew they were big, and I wasn’t naïve enough to think that no man looked at them. But was that all they saw?

  “That was low, Megan, and not necessary. Normally, he walks into the office and doesn’t look at anyone. Doesn’t even acknowledge we’re there. Today, he couldn’t keep his eyes of her. Not her breasts,” Olivia said, patting my arm reassuringly. “Although, maybe he did have a sneaky peek,” she added with a wink.

  What was it with her and winking?

  I smiled when I thought of Mama’s words, If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Don’t hide it.