The Art of Me (The All of Me Book 1)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Epilogue
The Art of Me©2016 SJ Blaze
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and electronic sharing of any part of the book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the property of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 SJ Blaze
Book Cover Design by Marisa Rose Shor of Cover Me Darlings
Art by Jacob Elbaz
Interior Design and Formatting by my love; G.M. .
Edited by Keidi Keating of Your Book Angel
Proofread by Laura Floyd
Published by CreateSpace
Table of Contents
Dedication
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Dedication
I’d like to dedicate this book to everyone with a forgotten dream.
Those of you bogged down with life, with family,
and with simply living that your
‘Once Upon a Time’ dreams become a distant fuzzy memory.
May all of your dreams find their way towards reality....
It is NEVER too late!
AND...
To Noah...
The biggest cheerleader I never knew I had.
To Gabriel...
Gifting me a new fairytale land to explore by your side.
Chapter One
Cocky Ass!
An anatomical impossibility, yes...and yet, there he is. Staring.
Just staring at me. I’m doing my best to keep my face impassive. Aloof. I don’t want him to know I’ve noticed him. He shifts in his chair placing his elbow on the conference table while rubbing his bottom lip, smirking and brazenly checking me out.
I shift my gaze to the man next to him, Greyson Collins, CEO of Collins Corp, also known as Cocky Ass’ dad. Would that make him Cocky Ass Senior? Most likely, as he exudes the same degree of superiority. I bet he’s even banging his secretary just because he can. Despite his age, probably in his late sixties, his salt and pepper hair meticulously styled and gelled into place along with those broad shoulders and his billions in the bank…I bet he has no problem warming his bed at night. He’s so busy eating up Brantley’s ass kissing, he doesn’t notice his son’s incongruous behavior.
Sitting next to me across from Cocky, Tom clears his throat. “Well, gentlemen, should we begin?”
Greyson claps his hands and agrees. “That’s a great idea. Let’s get started.” He tilts his head to the side while shifting his eyes to me. Great…now I’m stuck in a double Collins showdown. The Asses versus me. “Since this is a rather sensitive agreement,” Greyson continues, “I think only necessary personnel are required.”
With that foreboding statement, a third of the table on the Collins Corp side stand and leave the room in silence. A gorgeous tall blonde woman with the tightest royal blue dress that stops about two inches below her crotch, bends over to address Greyson. She whispers in his ear while tucking a curly lock into place. She’s flawless and probably spends hours working on her makeup and hair. I hate her! He keeps his eyes fixed on me while agreeing with whatever she says. Ah yes, I was right, he’s definitely getting some at the office. She nods, smiles flirtatiously at Cocky then walks out of the room. That’s interesting. Maybe two Collins for the price of one?
Olivia, Brantley’s secretary, who’s been standing to the side serving coffee, leaves just as quietly. You can hear a pin drop. Greyson clears his throat and raises his brows at me expectantly. Cocky leans forward and smiles. “Sweetheart, we’re gonna need you to leave the room.” He speaks the words slowly as if I’m an idiot, articulating every word. I continue staring impassively. Inside though, I’m stewing. Sadly, this isn’t the first time I’ve been dismissed on my looks. My jet black straight hair is pulled into a crazy tight bun at the nape of my neck, while my glasses hide grey eyes that are sporting some light mascara today. My face is makeup free showcasing my freckles loud and clear while my lips are painted a nude gloss. My top is a pale pink fully buttoned top, hidden under the oversized navy blazer from my pant suit.
I’m certainly not flaunting any of my goods.
Brantley and Tom look at each other, confused. “Coen, but you specifically asked for her,” Brantley says.
Greyson looks aghast. “We wanted Charlie Paz. He’s the one we were told to usher us into this trillion-dollar deal. That’s why we’re here!” His face is flushed. Poor billionaire. “Not some teenage girl with pubescent feminine issues.” I nearly chuckle.
Tom finally speaks up. “But this is Charlie!”
“NO!” Greyson spits. Cocky Coen furrows his brows and his bottom lip j
uts out a bit. He has nice full pink lips. They look soft. Wait…why am I noticing that?
“Charlie is a brilliant corporate lawyer straight out of Harvard’s upper crust. I’ve heard from at least three of my cohorts that he’s saved them hundreds of millions. Where’s that guy? I want that guy! That’s why we came to your firm.”
I fight the urge to stand, cup my tits, and scream…does this look like a guy to you, Cocky? But alas, I do not.
Olivia peeks her head in. “Excuse me.” She looks nervous as she shuffles over to me and drops a memo on the table. I casually look it over as I contemplate my next move. It’s the Boys and Girls Club. I sometimes do pro bono work for them, mainly on the big cases, as I’m not really a trial lawyer. But let’s face it, the public defender’s office doesn’t have loads of time to dedicate to some of these kids. And in Boston, we have all sorts of troubled youth in need of a hand out or a hand up.
Looks like I now have my exit strategy.
I start gathering my papers, while listening to the men argue about whether or not I’m the real ‘Charlie.’ As if the partners would trick the exalted Greyson. Feeling eyes on me, I glance up to see Coen is still studying me. Dismissing him with an unladylike eye roll, I stand and capture the room’s attention.
“Well, this has been vacillating! However, it does appear I’m needed and wanted elsewhere.” With my papers firmly clutched to my chest, I begin to walk towards the door. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Despite not having the proper documents from the Collins Corp legal team to review, I found out that your amended Certificate of Authority has been declined by the state, so that’s going to put you behind your target date. Not to mention that the Consent Resolution is unachievable at this point. That is, if you’d like to avoid dissolution.” I keep charging on. I knew it would come to this and I’d be dismissed. I had to be prepared. “I did discover that Prête Managerie, a subsidiary of Renault Matre, the company you’re merging with, is preparing its partners for bankruptcy. That’s a possibility of millions coming directly out of your pocket. Not to mention that despite what you’ve been told and are paying for, I have it on good authority that the revenue shares from this quarter have taken an abysmal nose dive. At least a double digit loss is predicted.” I take a deep breath, relishing the confused twin looks from father and son Cocky.
“But it’s obvious you don’t need me. I’m sure your legal team is on this. I’m sure they have the critical experience in International Law and a full understanding of the French legal system that they can navigate their way through. You certainly don’t need a, what did you call it again, a teenage girl with pubescent feminine issues and a Harvard law degree to step in your way. Good day, gentlemen.”
I leave the gaping faces and exit the boardroom. I finally crack the smile that’s been dying to come out for the last fifteen minutes. Relieved that I’d got out of there before I said something too offensive, I walk down the hall to my office, and despite my need to scream and slam my door, I do neither. Instead, I delicately close it and lean my head against it. The audacity of those arrogant pricks. I feel both smug and utterly disappointed at once. You’d think I’d be used to this by now. I bite my lip to muffle the groan that slips out. Shit, get it together. Walking to my desk, I throw the papers down and rip off my jacket. I’m burning up. The flush on my face is climbing down my neck. Why did Cocky keep looking at me? I roll up my sleeves, undo a few top buttons, and grab my purse from the desk drawer.
Walking out of my office and over to Olivia’s desk, I’m about to let her know that I’ll be out of the office for the remainder of the day when I notice the boardroom door swings open. Coen looks furious while jerking his head around. My instincts tell me to move, so I do. I give Olivia a slight wave and hustle towards the elevator. But it’s too late. I can feel his eyes on me.
I wait nervously - pushing the button down over and over again as if that will speed the elevator along. I feel Coen creep closer. “Charlie...”
Oh, so now I’m Charlie. Where was he ten minutes ago?
The elevator doors finally open, and I slide in without responding. I turn to push the first floor when Coen climbs in. He leans back against the wall crossing his arms over his broad chest and crosses his feet at his ankles. I face forward while watching him in my periphery vision. His crisp grey suit is tailored to mold to his body perfectly. He’s wearing a violet button up with a paisley tie in vivid purples, blues, and grays. All the while, those beautiful ice blue eyes are shooting in my direction. His dark blonde hair is short on top but longer on the sides as it curls slightly at his ears.
“It’s unfortunate.” His voice is smooth, serene, yet careful.
He’s baiting me. He wants me to engage. Not today, Cocky. I remain still and wait for him to resume. I know he’s dying to. He continues staring at me and sighs, having figured out that I won’t respond. He’s quicker than I originally gave him credit for.
“It’s unfortunate that you think you got away today. Your little display has only sealed your fate.”
To what is he referring? That I’m now locked into position on his legal team? Yes, I’m sure that’s it.
Although the guy is cocky, I suppose he’s earned that right. He’s been linked to some of the most stunning women in the Northeast, even models and a few actresses. I’m surprised they haven’t given him his own show to pass out roses - he’s so high in demand.
But that’s just the shell.
The cover art.
It’s just skin and shapely muscled bones drowning out what looms inside.
We’re so busy gawking and drooling that we don’t see what the beauty hides beneath. I know this all too well.
Shit, I perpetuate that theory.
That’s where I live. That’s where I hide.
Despite this tempting eye-gasm, I’m not interested. I have too much on my plate. I look up studying the numbers continually descend, and as the elevator reaches ground level, I finally speak up. “Yes. Have a good day, Mr. Collins.”
It’s like I’m agreeing to some unknown tragedy. It’s unavoidable, though. The partners will demand I stay involved on this deal and my path will cross with Cocky et. al. I bite my tongue to stop any further conversing. I want this little chat over and done with. The doors finally open, offering a new sense of freedom that the enclosed space has denied me.
“It’s Coen, love.”
I nod once and walk out. I hear him chuckling softly behind me as I walk to the parking garage.
He’s following me, but soon I feel his presence dissipate. He’s gone. It’s for the best.
Chapter Two
His hand firmly locked on my bare shoulder, I feel his thumb run small circles in the solitary place. Over and over. It’s both soothing and semi-annoying. He leans over and kisses the other shoulder, his breath warm and his soft lips lingering. All the while he continues talking to the three elder gentlemen engrossed in the dissolutions that politics bring. My eyes are practically rolling in my head, I’m so bored. But my mind isn’t needed tonight. Nope, I’m a show pony. A trophy on the arm of a powerful man.
I’ve been dating Andrew for about four months. You would think that amounts to a solid relationship, but with his constant travelling, we barely see each other. Congressman Andrew Carpenter is a very busy man indeed. The people of Boston adore him. His father, Governor William Carpenter of the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts, has high political aspirations for his son. The White House kind.
We met at a charity function, much like this one. He pursued me relentlessly until I finally gave in. He’s not bad, though. His brown hair is tightly groomed to his nicely shaped head. Face clean. Strong features. He’s probably just shy of six feet, on the thin side, but not disturbingly so. He’s attractive, although not ‘Stop the Presses’ attractive. But he’s sweet to me. And at times he makes me laugh.
He’s tolerable and suits my needs. He’s not the least bit threatening to me. He doesn’t know me…not the real me. Only the art I displa
y.
I look around the grandeur of the room. The Hotel Commonwealth is elegantly charming, perfect for this evening’s endeavors and it’s easy to get lost in its beauty.
Circle, circle, circle. I feel pleasantly warm in Andrew’s arm, so when a chill descends my spine, my entire body locks up. Something’s off… different. I attempt to casually take a sip of the champagne that’s remained stagnant and forgotten in my grasp. It’s warm now and genuinely unpleasant, but it’s a distraction as I eye all of the attendees trying to find a set of eyes on me.
And there he is.
Staring. Just staring at me. Wait, not at me. At Andrew. He looks angry, though I can’t imagine why. His beautiful icy eyes look even frostier now they’re narrowed in on their new target. He looks just as handsome as he did yesterday, although he’s exchanged his suit for a gallant black tux. Coen is perfection personified. He’s ignoring the red head, too old to be a debutant but too young to be his mom, as she drones on and on. He looks like he’s getting ready to cross the room my way. Not happening, Cocky. I have to defuse the situation before it begins. I don’t want another eerie staring contest with the way he throws up those pheromones. Certainly not in front of Andrew.
“Andrew, darling.” I interrupt his tête-à-tête, not caring if I disturb anyone. “Would you like to dance?”
He smiles tightly and nods to his audience, almost excusing my behavior as if I were a child.
“We were just discussing how combating the Super PAC’s will secure the failing infrastructure, dearest. It’s really not the time for dancing.”
Despite my almost five inch Giuseppe Zanotti Open Toe Platform Evening Sandals, (yes, life is good), I have to arch up to reach Andrew’s ear. “But darling, I’m desperately aching to have your body pressed against mine. Listening to you talk shop is doing all sorts of….” I take a deliberately slow breath out and shudder. “…things to me.” I look away and blush then wait patiently to see if he bought my act.
The circles stop, and he gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. Dropping his arm from my shoulder, he brings it over to link with my hand, interlocking our fingers. Checkmate.