by Angel Payne
Table of Contents
Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
New Excerpt
About the Authors
Publisher Page
No Simple Sacrifice
ISBN # 978-1-78651-151-5
©Copyright Angel Payne and Victoria Blue 2017
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2017
Edited by Rebecca Baker
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2017 by Totally Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, UK
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.
Secrets of Stone
NO SIMPLE SACRIFICE
Angel Payne and Victoria Blue
Book six in the Secrets of Stone series
If I could turn back time…
You know what they say about wishing for the impossible.
My name is Talia Perizkova, and time is usually my best friend. It’s been good to me in the months since I left the man who nearly wrecked me and I’ve returned the favor by working hard at Stone Global Corp, now getting promoted to lead one of SGC’s key expansion projects.
There’s only one mar on that record. The night I told time to kiss my ass, during a business trip to Vegas with my bosses—yes, my bosses—and experienced a night for the record books with them both. But what happened in the City of Sin refuses to stay there for any of us and time has joined forces with his pal, karma, to exact payback—from the depths of my heart.
Fletcher Ford. Drake Newland. They’re two of the business world’s sexiest, most sought-after bachelors and I’ve fallen for them both. Their passion is everything I crave, their protection is everything I need—and their love is everything my orthodox family will never let me accept.
The solution, according to them, is simple. One man steps down so two of us are happy.
I could find a way…
But sacrifices are rarely simple and one plus one doesn’t always equal happily ever after. That means the three of us have to decide—take a chance on this rare love we’ve discovered…or give in to fear and lose each other forever?
Dedication
For Thomas: You are all my seasons of love…my other half, my soul.
I love you so much.
Victoria: My best friend, my incredibly talented partner…
you astound me anew, and fill me with so much gratitude. Thank you!
Melisande Scott: Your guidance and patience are so appreciated,
And your friendship is so valued!
Jenna Jacob: For all the ledges, for all the love…thank you!
Shayla Black: I have no idea where I’d be without your unwavering belief in me.
I am so grateful for you, each and every day.
A HUGE hug and incredible love to the readers on the fan pages and social feeds who continue to support and love this series: we are so damn grateful.
Thank you for loving the Stones and their antics as much as we do!
To every single one of you who writes, messages, and hollahs with the support and love: I am more thankful than you can even know! I read every message, and hold each one of them as a special jewel in my heart.
—Angel
For my various partners:
My partner in all things, David. In love, support, and friendship, my partner for life.
My amazing, talented, spirited, and beautiful writing partner.
I love you so dearly, Angel Payne.
And my partners in crime, laughter, sadness and food:
Anna and Elisa, my missing pieces, my component parts. My love for you goes beyond reason.
And as always: thank you, to our dedicated readers. Without you, all our hard work would be for nothing! Much love and appreciation for your devotion.
—Victoria
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
48 Hours: Paramount Pictures
Alka-Seltzer: Bayer AG
Aurora: The Walt Disney Company
Barbie: Mattel, Inc.
Boy Scout: Boy Scouts of America
Cookie Monster: Home Box Office
Eagle Scouts: Boy Scouts of America
Elsa: The Walt Disney Company
FaceTime: Apple Inc.
George of the Jungle: Walt Disney Pictures
Gone With The Wind: Margaret Mitchell
Häagen-Dazs: General Mills, Inc.
Hair: James Rado, Gerome Ragni, Galt MacDermot
Hallmark: Sonar Entertainment, Inc
Jeopardy!: CBS Television Distribution
Jesus Christ Superstar: Andrew Lloyd Webber, Tim Rice.
Kool-Aid: Kraft Foods Group, Inc.
Learjet: Bombardier Aerospace
Mack truck: Mack Trucks, Inc.
Magic Kingdom: The Walt Disney Company
Range Rover: Tata Motors Limited
Rent: the Musical: Jonathan Larson
Rip Van Winkle: Washington Irving
Shrek: DreamWorks Pictures
Snapchat: Snap Inc.
Star Trek: CBS Television Distribution
Star Wars: Lucasfilm Ltd. LLC
Tag: TAG Heuer S.A.
The Addams Family: American Broadcasting Company
The Walking Dead: AMC Networks Inc.
Tommy: Pete Townshend, Des McAnuff
Twilight: Stephenie Meyer
Uber: Uber Technologies Inc.
Vans: VF Corporation
Victoria’s Secret: L Brands Inc.
Chapter One
Fletcher
Should auld acquaintance be forgot…
My ass.
I repeated the sentiment beneath my breath while turning in my chair to stare over the San Diego skyline. The sun glinted brightly on the city’s more modern buildings, darkening along the terracotta curves of the older structures, crafted in the style of the classic California missions. Farther in the distance, the light sparkled across the gentle waves on Mission Bay.
Shiny, shiny, shiny. Everything and everybody was so happy. They all kept saying it, too. Happy New Year. Happy New Year. It was almost February 1st, and still everyone was going on and on about the Happy New Year.
�
��My ass.”
Saying it out loud didn’t help a damn thing—nor soften the memories taunting me again. It had been a happy new year—at first. I’d welcomed it in the best of ways—with my best friend, Drake Newland, and the woman of our dreams, wrapped in our arms at an intimate party for three. A night to remember. A woman to never forget. Talia Perizkova, with her huge brown eyes, her dark waterfall of hair and her perfect temptress’ body, had completely captivated Drake and me during one unforgettable night in Vegas—but since then, neither of us could nail her down for an encore. She’d escaped us like a frantic kitten, stopping only long enough to gather traction and run even further. Every time either of us had reached out, she’d had an excuse at the ready. A late-night project at work. A pre-planned event that simply ‘had’ to be attended. Hell, even that she had to wash her damn hair. Fuck. Was that one still around?
Events and projects and dirty hair. All handled—without us.
That bullshit ended now.
I wheeled back around to the desk, picked up my phone and texted Talia with a simple request. We weren’t taking no for an answer and, with Drake’s buy-in, I was running point on her track-down.
Where are you and when can we see you?
Straight to the point. That was my style. The woman should know that by now—as well as my expectation of an immediate answer. After a minute, I raised an impatient eyebrow at the screen, willing her to reply. When the phone went completely dark, I mentally composed a follow-up—not so nice this time.
The device vibrated in my hand. Thank fuck.
Pretty Princess Party Perfection
“What the hell?”
Care to elaborate?
LOL. My niece’s birthday party.
Okay, that makes more sense. When will you be done? We’re coming over.
These things can take a while. Becoming a princess is time-consuming work.
Text us when you get home. No more excuses, Tolly.
Excuses? I would never joke about dress-up and hairdos.
I jerked up my other brow. There were two things I’d learned about Miss Talia Perizkova in the past month. One—she was a master at hiding her true feelings. Two—she had the sweetest pussy I’d ever put my mouth on. “Damn,” I growled, fighting thoughts of those tender pink folds beneath my tongue. Complete waste of time. I was a goner, subconsciously rubbing my semi through my slacks as I stood and crossed the room.
I exited into the condo’s sprawling living room. Technically, the place belonged to our buddy, Killian Stone, but we were both sitting board members at Stone Global Corporation and had been heavily involved in launching a number of their subdivisions lately. Though we always stayed at one of SGC’s rental properties while we were in San Diego, this place was beginning to feel more like home than Chicago—especially since the Talia effect had taken hold. And that was completely fine by me.
Though at the moment, nothing was fine about that girl’s diversionary tactics.
Drake was definitely going to agree.
I went looking for my roommate, starting with his favorite room in the condo, the gym. Condo. Still felt ridiculous, calling this place that, as it was four-and-a-half thousand square feet of modern, top-of-the-line luxury. Killian’s decorating preferences were all over the place, a bit shocking since he usually let Mrs. Stone—a.k.a. the amazing Claire—handle the pretties in his world. Still, as Claire’s pregnancy gained momentum, Kil was treating her more and more like a china doll instead of a capable, healthy woman. On more than one occasion at the office, we’d all borne witness to the daggers she shot him from her frustrated glares—looks that would’ve castrated a weaker man. But Kil had left us all slack-jawed by simply managing his trademark grin then popping a tender kiss to her forehead, making the woman melt into his side. The pair had what most people dreamed of in a relationship and the envy in the room was usually palpable.
Which—surprise, surprise—circled my mind right back to Talia. Seemed like most things did these days. Again, not a news flash. This was getting…disconcerting. And unnerving and amazing. And thrilling—
And terrifying.
I couldn’t remember having been so consumed by a woman before. I was pretty damn sure Drake echoed the feeling.
“Did you track her down?” The man’s question shook me out of my mental shadows.
“Uh…yeah.”
Drake cocked his head while reseating the dumbbells in the rack. “Are we playing ‘I’ve got a secret’ or are you going to tell me where she is?”
Patience was not Drake Newland’s best virtue.
“She’s at her niece’s birthday party. She doesn’t know how long it will go, so I told her to text us when she’s home.”
“Did she say she would?”
I grimaced. “No. She did her usual bit. Some cutesy quip then radio silence.”
Drake wiped a towel down his sweaty face. “Fuck. This.”
“Eloquently put.”
He hurled the towel into the hamper. “Well, did she say where the party was?”
“Uh—”
“Yes or no, man?”
“Yes. She did say where it was. But—”
“Great.” Drake started toward the door of the gym. “Let’s just go there. Surprise her.” He pulled up short when I didn’t budge. Took in my pristine white shirt and dress slacks before offering, “After I shower and change. Happy?”
I shook my head. “We—uh—may want to sit this one out, bro.”
“No.” He blocked the doorway to the hall. “I’m not waiting anymore. And why are you being so cagey? She needs to realize she can’t keep yanking us around like this.” He spun and marched down the hallway. “I’ll be showered and ready to leave in twenty minutes.”
“Ohhhh kaaaay.” I wanted to protest again, but his retreating back left no option, so I just grinned at my reflection in the long mirrored wall. If this went down the way I predicted, Mr. Marine was about to spend the afternoon getting the finest princess makeover a guy could ask for, complete with sparkly nail polish and a fairy-dusted hairdo. This would definitely be my next Snapchat story.
By the time we headed out in the piece-of-shit rental we were driving around and pulled into the strip mall down the street, my phone was out and set to camera. I waited, poised with the thing, ready to capture his face when the realization fell into place.
Didn’t take long.
“Fletch, what the fuck is this?”
I shrugged. “Told you we may want to sit this one out.”
He grunted. “You must have given me the wrong address. Look it up again.”
“No, man, this is it. Pretty Princess Party Perfection.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” The smirk came out. I just couldn’t help it anymore. “Let’s go get our girl.”
“Ahhhh…maybe you were right. Maybe we should wait.” Oh, the gears were clicking fast in his mind now. Girls. Not the fun grown-up kind. The soda-and-cake-filled, hyper-on-life kind. Lots of them. Screaming, giggling, twirling and reveling in their miniature diva status for the afternoon—primed and ready for a new victim.
He restarted the car. I reached over and turned it off. “No tucking tail now, man.”
“Fuck you.”
I hopped out of the car. “Tsk tsk, Prince Drake. Such language.” I patted the top of the car before slamming the door and calling over my shoulder, “Suit yourself. I’ll be happy to have some time alone with her.”
“Fuck that!” The driver’s-side door opened then slammed. Shitkickers pounded the blacktop behind me. Though Drake was a fashion plate at the office, always in head-to-toe custom-fitted suits and dress shirts, he fell back into his comfort-zone at home. His penchant for fatigues was legendary. Any camouflage print would do, despite how I cringed every time he put a pair on. Today, thank God, he’d had the sense to go with a regular pair of jeans.
I pulled the door open to Party Perfection, which was painted to look like an old wooden door of a castle.<
br />
Well. It was a party, all right.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget the sound. Translation—the decibel-record-setting noise, trounced only by the bright pink-and-purple décor.
And the girls.
Everywhere.
In all sizes, from baby ones to teenaged ones. Some preened in pink salon chairs, getting their hair curled and twisted and sprayed. Some sat on large, ornate thrones with small tubs attached to the front, soaking their feet for their upcoming pedicures. Others rifled through racks of clothing, searching for the perfect princess attire. The ones who were ready for their fashion show were vamping it up on a mini runway lined in twinkle lights and twirling in a sea of disco ball sparkles.
My head was already spinning worse than that damn ball. I wondered if Drake’s was just going to explode right off his shoulders. What the hell had I gotten us into? And would we ever find out before the estrogen overload killed us?
“Good morrow, gentlemen!” An overly made-up girl at the reception desk sounded just as sugar-pumped as her clientele. “Are you lost? The tackle shop is three doors down on the—”
“No.” I leaned against the counter and poured on the charm. “We’re looking for the Perizkova party. We’re friends of one of the guests.” In went a smooth smile. Couldn’t hurt. The last thing we needed was to be tossed out.
“Interesting.” Blink. Blink. Then she just stared.
Drake’s patience was even thinner than normal. The man looked as though he would rather wrestle a pit of cobras than hang out in here another minute. It certainly wasn’t the time to bring it up, but it was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen. Where I was semi-used to this sort of event, because of my extended family, his sister and brother were both still single.