Loving Ruby: The Riverstone Series Book 2 - Standalone

by Roya Carmen

  Countless attractive women have crossed my path, and I’ve admired their beauty. Yet never since Olivia have I been so consumed by the essence of a woman, what lies underneath the surface of her. Ruby is like Olivia in so many ways: a sensual passionate woman, kind and sweet, an artist. I fear I’m only trying to find Olivia again, and I cannot do that to her or Ruby.

  I should let Ruby go, but I can’t now. Because to do so would mean hurting her deeply. And that is the last thing I want to do. I’ve observed Ruby struggling to reach me with a smile or a kind gesture, but I’ve kept my doors shut. I’ve been very cautious. But now… I want her to open them… just a sliver. I want to let her in and let her see the light in me. Every fibre of my being wants to let her in.

  Ruby

  I cannot behave like this. I’m being ridiculous. I’m better than this. I’ve got to get it together. As I settle into my comfy desk chair, I make a vow to behave. I’ve got a million things to do. I jot down a to-do list, hoping it will keep me focused on the tasks at hand. I know it might take me a while to secure another position, but until I do, I’m determined to do a good job here. My goal is to complete all the things I need to do. I don’t want to leave him in the lurch, so I plan to give him proper notice and tie up all loose ends before I leave. I might not be able to fully control my emotions, but I can certainly manage them.

  I’m fully intoxicated by him, but my little fantasies are completely ridiculous. Not only is he my employer, but he’s so closed, so dark, and let’s face it, I know nothing about him. All those rumours about him – could they be true? I know he’s not a vampire, but I’ve never seen him step outside. Either Millie or I handle all of his errands.

  In the time I’ve been here, I’ve only seen him interact with Millie and Miko. He hasn’t even truly interacted with me. He’s a true introvert, a complete recluse. Yes, other people have been through the house: a personal trainer, a house cleaner, a strange man in a suit, a middle-aged red-haired woman with a suitcase. But August doesn’t talk to them, and I’ve seen those people in passing only. I smiled at Anna when she swept past me as she dusted the bookcases in my office, and I asked if I could help. She cocked a brow and let out a little laugh.

  He and I are very different. I love people. I thrive on their company. I love bringing out a smile in someone, relating, making their day brighter. But with him, it’s like pulling teeth. I cannot bear it anymore. He’s just too intense, and I don’t understand him. And I want to understand him so badly it’s driving me crazy.

  Could he really have been responsible for his late wife’s death? I can’t believe it. On the one hand, when I look into his eyes, all I see is tenderness and a kind heart. When I see the way he is with Millie and Miko, I only see a sweet man. Yet…

  When I read his words, all I see is brutality, intense hatred, and extreme passion. He’s a fascinating dichotomy. I’m repulsed, yet I can’t take my eyes off his prose. I wonder who these women are, the ones who get off on the misogynist themes like kidnapping, captivity, sadism, and bondage. Yet as I keep reading, my body is fully aroused, and I want more…

  The dark, closed, sad man. The one I see. The one who hides in the shadows of his extravagant home, the one who wrote those words. Could he have killed his wife? I say I don’t believe the rumours. I tell myself I’m not afraid. Yet my heart beats a little faster when I find myself alone with him, knowing there’s no one but us in this big house. Then I remind myself that Millie is somewhere around, and I breathe a little easier. I know I’m being ridiculous every time I gaze casually at his ankle to see if I can detect a house arrest ankle monitoring device. I tell myself I’m crazy, but then I wonder if it could be hidden underneath his trousers.

  I need to know more.

  Millie scurries to and fro in the kitchen. As I help her with the salad, I can’t seem to find anything I’m looking for in the ridiculously large kitchen, but Millie knows where everything is. She directs me like an orchestra conductor.

  I follow her lead as I chop strawberries for a fruit salad. She tells me Mr. Hyde loves fruit salad and she always makes sure to chop a few slices of banana for Miko.

  What else do you know about Mr. Hyde? I want to ask. I want to know everything. “So how long have you known Mr. Hyde?”

  She smiles. “Only two years. He hired me when he moved into this place.”

  “Oh… he moved here two years ago?” I already knew that. Tell me something I don’t know.

  “Yes, he moved up here after his wife passed away. He used to live in Toronto. He’s originally from Montréal.”

  “Oh really?” That’s more like it. “Uh… how did his wife pass away?” I ask in hushed tones – the question I’ve been dying to know the answer to.

  Her smile fades. She inches closer to me and turns her head to make sure we’re alone. My breath hitches in anticipation.

  “I’m not sure. I did ask once, and he very politely told me he preferred not to talk about it,” she explains, her eyes dark. “He asked me not to mention it again.”

  “Oh, I see…”

  “Whatever you do, you should not ask him about her.” The usually cheerful Millie I know is completely gone as she tells me, “I don’t know much about her except for the fact that she painted all the beautiful paintings in the house.”

  I keep chopping strawberries, on autopilot as I cling to each and every one of her words.

  “He keeps a single photo of her in this house. It’s next to his bed on his bookshelf,” she tells me. “She was quite lovely.”

  I desperately want to see the photo. “How did you get in his room?”

  She laughs. “I poked around. I know I’m not supposed to. But when I bring his dry cleaning to his room, I snoop.”

  As excited as a teenage boy discovering his dad’s secret porno stash, I squeal a little. “What did you see?”

  She laughs, and I kind of feel like I used to when Sonia and I used to sneak into her older sister’s room. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I’m afraid.”

  Damn, you’re giving me nothing, Millie. I thought we were BFFs now.

  “Wow,” she exclaims. “You can stop chopping. I think we have enough.”

  I glance at the mound of chopped up strawberries beneath me. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

  “Could you get the cheese from the refrigerator for me?” she asks.

  I reach into the stainless-steel monstrosity – industrial size – and grab the cheese basket filled with a variety of cheeses. “One thing we know: the man loves cheese.”

  She laughs. “I don’t think he can help it. It’s in his blood.”

  “How so?”

  “All this” – she says as she waves at the kitchen – “it’s not the books. It’s the cheese.”

  I cock a brow, confused.

  “August is heir to a large cheese empire – Beaudoin Cheeses. His great-grandfather on his mother’s side founded it in the early 1900s.”

  Recluse, dark and moody romance writer, bird enthusiast, cheese heir. The guy gets weirder by the minute.

  “What else do you know about him?” I ask.

  Her brow lifts, playful and mischievous. “Why, Ruby, why are we so curious?”

  I’m pretty transparent. “You know…” I stammer, knowing she can see right through me. “He’s my boss. I’m just curious.”

  She sets the different cheeses on two separate plates just so. “Um, let’s see. He loves to read. He’s a total homebody. He never goes anywhere. He’s an accomplished photographer…”

  “Is he?” I ask, surprised. “What does he take photos of? Have you seen his photos?”

  “The birds? They’re all his.”

  Striking images of various colourful birds fill my head. I’ve been surrounded by his images, and I never really stopped to look at them. “Oh, so he does goes out… to shoot birds?”

  “Well, he must have at some point, but I’m not sure he does that anymore.”

  This conversation is frustrating the hel
l out of me. “Does he ever go out?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t think so.” As she transfers some of the food onto a large tray, she clears her throat. “I can’t tell you anymore. You’ll just have to ask him.”

  August eyes me as I step carefully into his office. It’s always the same dance. I walk in, unsure, cautious. I don’t want to interrupt him. I’m not sure why I’m so guarded. His gaze lifts from his desk or his computer screen, but when it reaches me, it travels from my eyes down the length of my body to my feet and leisurely makes its way back up. The first time, it caught me by surprise, and it aroused me. His gaze isn’t lewd or crass. It’s rather precious – a sweet look of appreciation. It is always, without exception, followed by proper decorum.

  “Hello, Miss Riverstone,” he says, quickly and matter-of-factly. “How can I help you?”

  As I inch closer, Miko bobs his head. “Ruby.”

  “Hello, Miko.”

  He does his little dance, his head bobs from one side to the other, and he lets out a lewd whistle. August and I laugh.

  “Well, at least I know someone here is happy to see me,” I joke.

  Mr. Hyde smiles. I don’t know if it’s possible, but he’s even more gorgeous when he smiles. “Perhaps I should get him a little construction hat and steel lunch box. He’s behaving very inappropriately.”

  I tilt my head. “I don’t mind it. I’m quite flattered actually.”

  His gaze lingers on me for a second, and he bites his lip. He actually bites his lip.

  Damn. Feeling heady, I quickly take a seat across his desk, which is covered with papers and stuff – the sign of a busy man. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.”

  Johnny Cash is playing in the background. I recognize the familiar song. “So you’re a Johnny Cash fan?”

  He laughs. “Miko is.”

  I smile. “I love him. My dad used to listen to him all the time when I was young.”

  He nods and lowers the volume. Clearly he doesn’t want to chat about my childhood. I hug the large binder tightly against my chest. He eyes the binder as though he knows why I’m here.

  “So what did you think?” His gaze is charged as he waits for my answer.

  My heart beats a mile a minute, and I struggle to find the right word. Any word. “In-intense,” I finally manage to choke out.

  He nods without a word. He leans back into his chair, willing me to say more.

  I stare at my black frilly skirt. “To be honest, it’s not quite the type of romance I usually read. But still, it consumed me, held me captive, pardon the pun, despite my objections.” I’m keenly aware that my words are fitting since the story is all about domination and control.

  I venture a look at him. He wears the intense expression he often does, those stunning eyes consuming me fully. I wonder if he’s a dominant. He must be – it’s what he writes. He must feel that impulse. We write what we know, as they say. I wonder what he’s like in bed. I wonder about his late wife. I wonder if he enjoyed subduing her like the hero of his books does to his captives. I get aroused by my thoughts, and I know I should definitely not be having these kinds of naughty thoughts.

  Not here. Not now.

  He finally speaks. “You’re quite right, Ruby. It’s not for everyone.” I’m taken aback when he addresses me so informally. “But remember it’s a fantasy.”

  “Is it?” Before I can consider my words, I blurt, “Do women really get off on that?”

  “The popularity of the books would certainly indicate so.”

  “I’m more into traditional billionaire prince books or the occasional bad-boy biker,” I jest. “I can’t really handle anything more intense.”

  “But you said you enjoyed my books so far. Were you fibbing, Ruby?”

  Damn, there’s my name again. And the way he says it, so sensually slow… I swallow and grasp the arms of my chair tightly. I don’t know what has gotten into the man, but he’s completely let down his guard.

  “No, of course not. I loved your books. I don’t lie, Mr. Hyde.” For some reason, I can’t bring myself to call him August. The scene is already too intense and way too intimate.

  “What about them did you enjoy the most?” he asks.

  It’s a seemingly innocent question. But we both know it isn’t.

  The sex.

  He knows it was the sex. So raw. So filthy. So intense.

  I study him carefully. He’s serious, but there’s a roguish look in his eyes and the almost indiscernible tilt of his lip. He’s taunting me. He’s purposely trying to make me uncomfortable. He’s probably anticipating my reaction. But I am no wallflower, and this isn’t my first rodeo.

  I clear my throat and sit up straight. I’m not embarrassed. He wants to dig into me? He wants to know what I’m thinking? His wish is my command.

  “I loved the sex, August.” I call him August because I want to have the upper hand. “Sir” or “Mr. Hyde” just wouldn’t be appropriate. I want to bring him to his knees. If there is a submissive in this room, it certainly isn’t me. Not this time.

  “I see,” he says, urging me to go on.

  “I loved Mason. I loved how crude and filthy he was. The way he used sex to control Sophia. The power play between them. The pure aching she experienced, her intense desire to be fucked into oblivion,” I go on, a little breathless. “I think most women can relate.”

  With dark eyes, he sits back without a word.

  “I loved the way their sexual relationship developed. It began… so filthy and raw, and as their walls slowly broke down, it became deeper, more real. To be honest, I think I enjoyed her begging the most, during the bondage, the control, the anal play…” I’m not sure why I choose those two words to end my train of thought. They catch me off guard as they escape from my mouth like misbehaving children.

  Anal play… What do I say now? I’m completely at a loss for words as he stares at me with the same roguish expression. You filthy girl, it seems to whisper. I think he liked my opinion of his book.

  I take a deep breath and hand him the binder and my notes. “Anyway,” I say casually, trying to ease the tension in the room. I’m surprised Miko isn’t fluttering around in his cage from the charge in the air. “My notes are here. I’ve made a bunch of comments in the margins. I hope you’ll find them useful.”

  He smiles, and I feel a hundred pounds lighter. “I’m sure I will.”

  I smile tightly and stand. “Well, I’ll leave you with that and get back to my office.”

  As I walk toward the door, he catches me by surprise when he calls out my name. I turn back to him, curious.

  “I have something for you,” he says quietly as he reaches behind his desk. He pulls out a light-brown shoe box.

  I venture closer, filled with anticipation.

  He makes his way around his desk. “It’s a small token of my appreciation for all you’ve done so far. It’s also an apology. I behaved rather badly last Friday.”

  I swallow hard as I catch a glimpse of the logo on the box, the swirly white script.

  Christian Louboutin – Paris

  My jaw falls to the floor in shock.

  He hands me the box with a shy smile. “Open it.”

  I grab the box eagerly. I can’t believe he got me Louboutins. I peel off the top feverishly and dig in. Classic black stilettos with the signature red sole. So sleek, so beautiful. Every girl should own a pair of these. And now I do.

  “Try them on if you’d like,” he urges. “I would love to see them on you.”

  I look up at him. His eyes seem so dark, filled with desire. Lust consumes me in a quick rush. Heat fills me, and a pressure stretches across my lower belly. With just a few words and a single look, he can bring me to my knees. I thought I had the upper hand, but it’s his. All his. I’m all his. If only he’d let himself have me.

  My knees wobble as I settle myself on the chair again, and I take the heels from the box. Size 37. How did he kn
ow my size? He seems to know everything. I slip on the shoes carefully, delighting in the cool leather against the soles of my bare feet.

  He leans on the edge of his desk, studying every inch of me. He bites his lip again. “Stand. I want to look at you.”

  I rise to my feet slowly. I spin on my heels and walk the length of the office, swaying my hips. I want to arouse him.

  “Beautiful,” he says. “The shoes suit you, Ruby. Do they fit right?”

  “They’re perfect.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that. So you like them?”

  “I love them,” I squeal, despite myself. “Thank you, August.” I feel smitten, shy, demure, and aroused – all the things I don’t want to be.

  August

  Those shoes…

  It was all I could do not to grab her by the waist and take her right then, over my desk. The curve of her calves, the roundness of her perfect rear, and the naughty little smile she shot me as she swayed… it all left me helpless. I’ve been reduced to a hopeless man consumed with lust.

  This nonsense needs to stop. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I cannot ignore Ruby Riverstone. I want her. I crave her. I’ve tried to pretend otherwise. I’ve attempted to convince myself that if I could just stay out of her path, all would be well. But this is undue torture.

  Again, I find myself restless. Actual work is out of the question. I grab my mobile, debating whether I should call Anita again. A quickie could be just the right answer to this irritating situation.

  But I don’t want Anita. I want Ruby. My cock wants Ruby. She’s the only one who can quench my thirst. She’s all I’ve been thinking about, all I’ve dreamed about. I can no longer focus. I can’t think straight anymore.

  I know she desires me just as much. I can see it in her eyes and hear it in her words when she speaks of my prose. This is a woman who needs to be kissed, explored, made love to, and taken in a way she has never known.