The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1)

by Ashton, Chloe D.

  To her dismay, his hands fell away as he stood, and like a helpless fool, she stood there in shambles. Still half dazed, she watched as he stooped down to retrieve the boxing gloves.

  “Guess that I should’ve warned you about this island heat. It can make one’s thoughts and actions quite delirious. Come on, time to get started,” he continued before grabbing her hand. As he tugged the gloves onto her small hands, he winked. “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be beating my ass.”

  Unable to resist the tease, she gave a breathless smile.

  His green gaze darkened further.

  Again, he was impossible to read.

  “What are we going to work on first?” she asked, breaking the spell first. “Hopefully, it’s not what you were doing earlier.”

  “Of course not…it takes years to perfect shadowboxing. So, your first lesson is this,” he murmured, laying his hands on her shoulders, and turned her towards the punching bag. “Learning how to land a solid punch. But, first, I want you to show me what you’ve got.”

  She nodded. “Alright.”

  Giving a low grunt, she landed a punch.

  The punching bag didn’t budge under her feeble attempt.

  “Forgive me for saying this,” he teased, giving a deep chuckle. “But, you hit just like a girl. That little weak punch you gave probably wouldn’t harm a fly. Come on, I know that you got more than that.”

  Again, she couldn’t suppress her girly giggles.

  He stepped behind her.

  A shiver skated down her spine.

  Her laughter died instantly.

  He grasped her waist with both hands, pulling her against him.

  Heavens, she breathed fast, feeling every male inch of him through the fabric of her clothing. Against her hips, she felt the rise of his bulge and she struggled against the dark need that urged her to move against it. His deep masculine scent---a combination of cologne, musk, and sweat---it obliterated every coherent thought that she had remaining.

  Still, she fought for her sanity.

  “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly, leaning into him, too weakened against her own needs to protest.

  “Guiding you…teaching you how to drive hard,” he said at her ear, drawing her even closer, and even his words seemed a bit fractured. “I want you to follow my directions, okay?”

  At loss for words again, out of breath, she nodded.

  Again, his sexy timbre sent a shiver along her spine. “Spread your legs apart.”

  “What?” she whispered, fighting to breathe normally.

  “Not too wide,” Jarrod said thickly. “But, just enough for you to feel the tension. Decide on a focal point and drive your punches hard. Think about how deep you want your drive to go.”

  Staring blindingly at the punching bag, she did as he bade. But, her thoughts, they flowed elsewhere.

  So consumed they were with the feel of him behind her…

  The hands that grasped her waist, they held her steady---

  If he touched her, really touched her, would the throb between her thighs pulsate even more---

  This time, her hit landed hard on the bag, and she dispelled a fast breath.

  “There, it is,” he murmured, leaning closer to her. “You’ve found the zone…the one that’ll make you go harder.”

  Her mind was weightless.

  Too caught up in the forbidden game that they were playing with each other.

  For wasn’t she gauging his response, too?

  Behind her, his hard form was rigid and his breathing ragged.

  Like her, he was barely in control.

  She gave another furious punch.

  Within minutes, she was completely out of breath.

  But, not from exertion.

  Instead, her wanton thoughts were running amok.

  “I think that’s enough,” he rasped, stepping away from her abruptly, and turned. He sauntered towards the boxing ring and stopped alongside a small table that she hadn’t noticed earlier. “We’ll have to take a rain check for now. I just remembered that there was something else that I need to take care of.”

  “O-okay,” she stammered, blushing furiously, already pulling the gloves off. “I just remembered something that I need to take care of, too.”

  “You’re welcome to come down here anytime,” he said, closing the table’s drawer, and faced her. But, his smile was small and tight. “That is, if you’re ever in the mood to work out.”

  Her smile was equally strained. “I just may…I found that I rather enjoyed boxing.”

  Enjoyed him, most likely, the inner voice whispered in her head. And you know it’s so!

  “Like I said…you’re welcome here anytime,” Jarrod shrugged, turning away from her again. “I’m going to straighten things up a bit here first before I head back up. Don’t wait on me. And take as long as you need to take care of what it is that you’re going to take care of. We’ll finish up on some paperwork later this evening. That’ll give you more time to relax and enjoy the day.”

  As if she really needed it, she thought, staring at him blankly. For wouldn’t her thoughts still be filled with him?

  “Thank you,” she murmured, watching his back. But, it became obvious that this was her dismissal. “I’ll see you much later, then.”

  Still keeping his back to her, Jarrod gave a quick nod. “Later.”

  Turning on her heel, she fled.

  Too bad that she did---

  She completely missed Jarrod’s hungered look.

  ***

  “We are happy to extend our contractual agreement past the current agreed upon tenure,” Jarrod muttered, leaning back in the upholstered office chair, finishing up the last words of the dictation while she took record of it by hand. Though he was dressed comfortably in a black t-shirt and jeans, he was still the picture of a formidable force. “As an international firm with clientele from London to Hong Kong, we look forward to servicing your corporation with the same vigor, finesse, and perfection. Cordially, Jarrod Sabatino.”

  Listening intently and nodding at once, Olivia concentrated on her efforts as she wrote. Still dressed in the same sharp business blouse and yellow floral skirt from earlier, she’d seen no reason to change earlier. Now, however, a pair of pink fuzzy sleep slippers covered her bare feet. After discovering that she’d left them in the basement, she’d been too embarrassed to go back and retrieve them. Too many of her scandalous fantasies lingered there, she’d realized.

  After writing the final word of the dictation, she turned to a free page in the memo pad. “It’ll only take me about twenty minutes or so to get this typed up. But, still, I’m missing something,” she said, standing up before going around the desk to peer over his shoulder. Still, not getting a clear enough view, she edged beside him before bracing both hands against the edge of the desk.

  Of course, what she read was like a foreign language, she scowled, turning slightly to the right, especially considering that she knew little about reading extensive monetary accounts. Bending lower, she scanned it fast but still didn’t find what she was looking for. “What exactly is Mr. Hamilton’s last point of revenue? You mentioned that you wanted it in the report.”

  With a deep frown, Jarrod read over the ledger in his hand, and then tapped the screen without even looking. “There it is right there---a meager amount. Now, that he’s dealing with me, I’ll increase those earnings three-fold,” he said, whirling to the side in the chair, and faced her fully. “That means if Hamilton’s getting a lucrative cutback, so will I.”

  “Well, none of this makes sense to me,” she mumbled, sticking the pencil between her teeth, and then, squinting, she peered closer. “Where are you reading it? I don’t see it anywhere. Everything basically is just running together.” A relieved sigh left her when she finally spied it. “Bingo, there it is…$85,000.”

  “But, you know what? I am beginning to understand a little,” she murmured, pushing a stray curl behind her ear. Not realizing
that she was leaning against him, she pointed to the bottom of the screen. “Like the fact that Hamilton was close to being on the brink of bankruptcy a few years ago. If it hadn’t been for the bailout, he would’ve gone under, wouldn’t he?”

  As she turned towards him more, she looked at him, and then suddenly realized why he’d gone silent. She flushed red. Her full bosom were right in his field of view, and she’d put them there! The blouse was gaped open wide and the lacy brassiere was fully visible. All thanks to her, she realized fast, especially since she’d undone a few buttons earlier. To say that the lingerie pushed her plump breasts up nicely would be an understatement. From this stance, it appeared that the brassiere was too snug which the case wasn’t!

  She dared to risk another look at him and instantly wished that she hadn’t.

  A speculative gleam burned in his eyes.

  And gosh, why did his green orbs have to twinkle like that!

  It only made her want him more.

  She looked away fast.

  Only heavens knew where his thoughts were wandering!

  Well, she had a pretty good idea where they were---undoubtedly in the same place her kinky and lustful thoughts rested, she mulled, straightening fast. She nearly collided into the desk as she veered around it fast.

  Luckily, the chair was sturdy enough to brace her fall.

  Jarrod cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Uh, yes, you’re probably right,” he muttered, answering her earlier question, and tossed the ledger on the desk. Leaning forward, he snapped the laptop closed. “That’s enough for tonight, don’t you think? It’s close to 9:30, and we’ve already missed dinner with Rosa and Meghan. But, of course, you could’ve eaten already if you hadn’t been intent upon being stubborn.”

  A warm flush spread up her neck. “Well, I wanted to be here with you…I meant that I wanted to help you get things caught up,” she said quietly, lifting her chin. “So stop bullying me about it, okay?”

  “Ok, I got it,” he retorted, raising a defensive hand in the air. “I guess that means that you’re stuck having a late dinner with me then.”

  While she kept her expression blank, her heart flip-flopped. “I guess so,” she shrugged flippantly, though she was embracing secret joy, and stood. “I believe that it’s pasta night.”

  “Nothing beats Rosa’s chicken fettuccine,” he muttered, patting his abdomen after standing. “How in the hell I’m not as big as this house is a mystery. I’m an absolute pig when it comes to Rosa’s cooking.” He moved from behind the desk and came to stand before her. “You may want to dress in something more comfortable. We’re eating on the outside deck. Meet me there in half an hour. Can you manage that?”

  Were there seven days in the week, she mulled, striving for normalcy again.

  Of course, she could manage it!

  “Half an hour. I’ll see you then,” she murmured, walking towards the door.

  When she stood on the other side of it, she gave a silent, but triumph yes.

  Exactly a half hour later, she descended the stairs again, this time, dressed in a long rainbow-striped caftan and leather thong sandals. The lights were dimmed low in the other rooms as she passed through, and it wasn’t surprising since Rosa and Meghan were already abed.

  When she reached the deck, Jarrod was already seated at the black iron-wrought patio table. Surprisingly, the area was already laden with food.

  He stood up as she made way towards him.

  “Thank you,” she smiled, taking the seat that he’d offered. Passing a glance over the chicken fettuccine, salad, and Italian rolls, she sighed in appreciation at the savory smells. A bottle of chilled champagne stood in the ice bucket alongside two goblets. She waited patiently as he filled her plate with the items. With a kind thank you, she took the plate as he passed it to her. “Everything looks and smells great.”

  “Rosa’s culinary skills are exceptional,” he remarked, picking up his fork. “I think we’re both in agreement on that. Shall we?”

  After her quiet nod, they proceeded to eat.

  Moments later, well-fed, they still sat at the patio table while nursing glasses of chilled champagne. A comfortable air settled around them as they continued with their mundane conversation.

  As their conversation carried over, she studied him close. “Rosa thinks highly of you. That much is obvious.”

  “She’s family, and I love her very much,” Jarrod said without the slightest hesitation. “For years, even before I was a small boy, she’s been an important part of my family. Through the years, she’s championed us all---my mother, father, sisters, brothers, cousins... After things happened in my life awhile back,” he paused, not going into detail what that was, he looked past her. Still, she’d caught the quick flash of pain on his face. “Well, let’s just say that she took it upon herself to help me out. I can’t count the number of ways that she has. I’m more than happy with the fact that Meghan is experiencing her influence as well. Rosa is irreplaceable.”

  “I can remember waking up from the coma and being so scared.” Her look was far away. “Everything was so confusing and daunting. But, Rosa did everything to make sure that I was comfortable.” She looked at him again. “And so have you.”

  He raised a brow. “How so?”

  “By not rushing me into anything,” she admitted, blushing. “You’ve held true to your word like any gentleman would.”

  “You think that I’m a gentleman,” he quipped, raising the goblet to his lips, and studied her over its rim. Like earlier, a dangerous glint shone in his eyes. “Color me surprised.”

  “Color me surprised that you think you aren’t,” she said in rebuttal. “I mean, how many men wouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation and me? Not many, I’m willing to bet.”

  The strange light in his eyes rivaled the moonlight’s. “What are the marks of a true gentleman in your opinion?”

  She poised the goblet in midair. “A true gentleman knows how to respond appropriately. Even before thinking of himself, he puts others’ needs first,” she suggested, growing warm all of a sudden in the chair. Of course, that deep green gaze of his was responsible for that!

  “Are those the only characteristics? If so, the build of one sounds quite boring,” Jarrod mocked, taking a huge gulp of the champagne.

  “You’re hardly boring,” she replied, blushing again. “In a million lifetimes, I would never apply that label to you.”

  “Is that so?” As his green gaze darkened, a dangerous smile played at his lips. “So, we are talking about me.” Studying her close, still cradling the glass of champagne in his hand, he leaned back in the chair, and a challenge shone in his green eyes. “I have to say that this conversation is turning out to be quite interesting. I’ve learned that I’m not a bore. If I’m not that---what kind of man am I?”

  The champagne suddenly seemed warm, she noted, distractedly, taking a slow sip. Probably it was deepening with her body’s deep flush, especially under his deep perusal. Finally, she found the courage to speak again. “I can think of many ways to describe you.”

  “Let me guess---I’m a hardworking, nice, sweet, and kind man,” Jarrod mocked again, giving a short laugh, and flicked his eyes over her slowly. “Did I miss labeling any of my stunning attributes?”

  “You’re so much more than that,” she said, and her outburst surprised even her.

  The silence hummed along with the ocean waves.

  Their gazes clung.

  So much was still unspoken.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “So, I’m much more than that, my little Jane Doe?” he asked huskily, sipping the champagne while watching her. “Go on.”

  “Sometimes, your very presence is overwhelming,” she confessed softly, holding his deep stare. “There’s not one side to you---you’re not the kind of man that you can place in a box and note as one kind. Sometimes, I often wonder how long it would take to peel away all your layers.”

  “Is that what you want to do---peel away
my layers?” he challenged, placing the goblet on the table, and leaned back in the chair again. “So that you can mold me into whom you want me to be?”

  “I wouldn’t change anything about you,” she whispered, and admired his handsome visage as the moonlight splayed along it. “In these last days, I can understand why I was so taken with you before the accident. I’m sure that you presented me with quite the challenge.”

  “So me being a challenge---is that what turns you on?” he probed, standing up slowly before joining her side, and smiled at her embarrassed flush. Staring down at her, he extended his hand. “Relax, Olivia. Remember, you’re in control of how far things go between us. I’m not going to push you. Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, placing her hand in his.

  “A bit anxious, aren’t we?” Jarrod quipped, tugging her along. “Just wait and see.”

  When they reached the far side of the deck, he stopped.

  Standing alongside him, she stared at the side of his face. “Well?”

  He pointed towards the starry heavens. “There it is---Alpha Leo.”

  “Alpha Leo?” she frowned, still not understanding.

  “It’s a small figment our forgotten past---one that you selflessly gave. On the night that we admitted our love, you chose that star for me,” he murmured, distracted, and a sad smile played on his face. “It means ‘prince’ or ‘heart of the lion’. You were one of the few people that accepted me---even the ugliest and vilest parts. And you didn’t realize that you’d given me the ultimate gift.”

  And I still do accept all of you, she thought, watching him, but was afraid to say the words out loud.

  “You foolishly and naively believed that the world belonged to us and only us,” he said quietly. “Too bad that circumstances proved your words to be nothing more than a lie.”