by R. R. Banks
My dress is laying on a chair nearby and Skyler is helping me get through the final preparations.
“I just hope I remember how to run things.”
“Hush,” Skyler says, taking the bobby pin from my mouth and putting it where it needs to be. “It's only been two months. You'll remember how to run your bookstore just fine. It's just like riding a bike, hon.”
“It's not just a bookstore now though,” I say, staring at myself in the mirror. “It's so much more than that. I don't even know if I can call it an actual bookstore anymore, to be honest. I mean – what do I call it?”
“You call it Bookworms,” she says and smiles. “And it'll be fantastic. Bigger and better than ever. Hon, this is how you adapt. Evolve. This is how you grow your business and turn it into something amazing.”
If there's a person I can trust to know what it takes to adapt and evolve, it's Skyler. She's made the transition at the Grill look almost flawless and simple. I know it's not, but that's a testament to her skill. Her savvy. Her smarts. I only hope my own transition is half as smooth and amazing as hers.
There's a knock on the door and I jump at the sound. I giggle and Skyler winks at me as she answers the door. It's Liam, of course, with a bouquet of flowers in hand and a wide smile on his face.
As he enters the room, I can't help but stare at the love of my life. And I have to say, he's looking incredibly handsome in a designer suit and tie that's been well tailored to his sexy form. With a fresh haircut and a clean-shaven face, he almost looks too good to be true. Like a model stepping straight out of the pages of a fashion catalog. Even Skyler gives him the once over before shooting me a jealous look behind his back. “Damn,” she mouths as he walks toward me, flowers in hand.
I kiss my man, and he kisses me back – perhaps a little too passionately considering the fact that we aren't alone. But Skyler doesn't mind.
“I'm so proud of you,” he says.
“I couldn't have done it without you,” I say.
“Yes, you could have,” he laughs. “You did this on your own. With Skyler's expert input, of course.”
“Why thank you,” Skyler says. “I'm glad somebody appreciates my talents.
I laugh and shake my head. “This wouldn't be happening without you,” I say. “Without the both of you. And I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am. I love you both so damn much.”
Skyler cuts in. “Oh, hush. All of this sappy sentimentality is making me sick,” she laughs. “But, you should be proud, hon. I'm so proud of you. This version of Bookworms is going to be absolutely amazing. I can feel it.”
Liam kisses me again and squeezes my butt. “Skyler's right, you know.”
“Of course, I am,” she says. “I always am. You'd think that people would listen to me more, given that I am always, in fact, right. About everything.”
I shoot her a look and we both stick out our tongues at each other. So mature. But hey, that's us.
“We should probably get going,” Liam says. “We don't want to be late for your big day.”
“No, we don't,” Skyler says.
One of the perks of being with someone as filthy rich as Liam, is the staff that comes along with him. Like the driver who takes us to my grand re-opening. Already, there are crowds out front, waiting for the shop to open. I'm shocked to see almost fifty people already lined up and waiting outside the doors. Faces both familiar and not.
“Where are all these people coming from?” I laugh as we step from the car.
“All over Washington,” Liam says. “The word has spread.”
I have a feeling he has a lot to do with that. I squeeze his hand and give him a quick peck on the cheek. Of course, the special guest we have booked for our grand re-opening can't be hurting the turnout. She's a local, up-and-coming author by the name of Pamela Wilcott. She's a true crime and suspense writer out of Seattle and people can't seem to get enough of her.
She's had a number of bestsellers, and judging by the looks of it, a lot of people already have copies of her book in hand and are waiting for her reading and signing.
This is just the beginning though. With the help of some of Liam's small business expert friends, I've learned a lot. I've learned how to engage with the community and how to do things that will get people involved. Get people excited. And as a result, our calendar has a number of other, larger names coming to do readings and signings as well.
I'm so excited because I know this is only the beginning.
We enter through the back door, and I still can't believe this is my shop. This is my bookstore. Only better. Far, far, far better.
Mrs. Brenton ended up selling her building to Liam instead of Damon. There was little choice given the fact that Damon is behind bars now. But Liam still gave her a very fair price for it – enough that she's moving down to the Yucatan Peninsula, just like she talked about. I know she'll be happy there and honestly, I couldn't be happier for her.
After purchasing the Daily Cuppa, because it's right next door to my shop, we were able to knock down the wall between them and opened it up, making my store larger and more spacious, while also having a coffee shop inside the space.
Now, rather than being crammed into a tiny store with tight aisles, people can walk comfortably through my shop, perusing titles while drinking their lattes. The building next to us, which used to be a gift shop that never did very well, also sold to Liam and we opened that space up to house a bakery and small trinket store. We also had some backroom space, which we transformed into the reading and signing room for our special guest authors and speakers.
As I look around the store, I'm once again in awe of it all. I can't believe this place is mine. It looks so new, so sleek, so modern – and yet, we were also able to retain the charming, small-town feel of it.
I look at the crowd, my heart swelling, and happen to see Port Safira's new mayor, Judy Archer. After everything went down with Damon, Brian Goodrich was implicated. The City Council demanded his immediate resignation, but they inexplicably didn’t press charges, allowing him to avoid jail time. They said the time he would get on charges of corruption wasn't worth the money it would take to prosecute him.
So, he was allowed to resign in disgrace, his political career over. He moved away from Port Safira, and in a special election, Judy Archer won in a landslide. Personally, I think it would have been worth the money to send Brian to prison along with Damon and Brittany, but I’m vindictive like that.
I have to content myself with the fact that at least those two, along with Brittany's boyfriend, Travis, are all in prison, and given the severity of the charges – including attempted murder – they're going to be there for a very long time. It's a win and I'll take it.
“I still can't get over how big it is in here now,” I say.
With all new bookshelves, an organization system and computers with programs that track inventory, my job has become so much easier. I also have staff now. Just a few people, like Peggy who was here early this morning baking goods for the signing and getting the space set up.
There's a brightly lit display case filled with cake pots, croissants, donuts and more – all made from scratch right here. In my new store. My new store that happens to smell absolutely heavenly, thanks to all of the baked goods.
Liam slides his arm around my waist, and leans close to me, nuzzling my ear. I giggle and slap him playfully on the arm. Although part of me wants to re-live the first time we were together in my shop, and I know he wants to, that's going to have to wait a while.
“Ready to open the doors?” he asks.
“It's a little early,” I say, looking at the clock.
“We're ready to go, why keep them waiting?” he says.
He has a point. Why keep the people waiting? It's been so long since I've seen this many people in my store that it will be a nice sight. As nerves flutter in my stomach, I nod, and Skyler flips the sign to “Open” and unlocks the door.
Crowds of people stream in,
filling the bookstore, and my eyes fill with tears. It's been years since the place has been filled with this many people. I pause for a moment and listen to the loud chatter of voices as customers move about the store, sending a big, fat tear rolling down my cheek.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Liam.
He kisses the top of my head and says, “No, thank you, Paige.”
“What for?” I ask.
“Just for being you,” he says. “You came into my life at the right time. You're exactly what I needed, but you're more than I deserve.”
I shake my head. “No, I think we're exactly what each other needs,” I say. “And exactly what each other deserves.”
The End
Accidentally Married (Sample)
By R.R. Banks
An Amazon Top 5 Bestseller
*217 Customer Reviews – 4.8/5 Stars
“Let’s get married.”
That was the last thing I had in mind.
Then I saw Holly, a curvy redhead in a tight green dress.
I knew she was mine. And I had to claim her.
I tasted her full lips and devoured every inch of her.
I woke up with a ring on my finger, but she was gone…
Our marriage was an accident, but my vows are real.
Finding her isn’t easy. And I’m not the only one who wants her.
The cartel thinks they own her, but they have no clue.
I’m not your ordinary billionaire. I’m f*cking ruthless.
I’ll protect Holly. And our baby growing inside her.
Chapter One
Michael
The night is dark, cold, and I've got a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. Gabriel Trujillo called me earlier and told me we needed to meet. And when Trujillo calls, you don't say no. You clear your fuckin' schedule and go where he tells you to. It's a lesson I learned the hard way.
I shudder and pull my coat tighter around me, attempting to ward off the chilly Colorado night. I'm standing in the parking lot of a rest stop on a hill, overlooking the city of Denver. I was born and raised here and I'm probably gonna die here. I just hope that death is still a long time comin' though.
My cell rings. I pull it out of my pocket and look at the ID. Trujillo.
“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself.
With a sigh, I connect the call and stare down at the glitter and sparkle of the lights in the city below me. I'm not an overly sentimental man, but looking down on the city makes me appreciate its beauty.
“I'm here,” I say irritably. “I've been here for twenty minutes already.”
“Running late,” Trujillo said, his Mexican accent coloring the words. “I'm a couple of minutes out. Relax, my friend.”
“Hurry up,” I snap. “It's freezing.”
I disconnect the call and drop the phone into my pocket. Ordinarily, I'm more deferential to Trujillo. Given who he is and what he does, it only seems prudent, if not wise. I don't know what got into me just now. Talking to him like that is a good way to get my teeth kicked down my throat.
I guess I'm just cold, tired, and stressed the fuck out.
Turning back, I stare out at the city again, trying to block out the cold, calm myself down, and not to think about what's about to happen. Truth is, I don't know what that is. Maybe nothing. Trujillo has a flair for the dramatic and might just want to make an impression by meeting me in this secluded spot in the middle of the night.
Yeah, either that or he's going to put two in the back of my fuckin' head.
A few minutes later, I see headlights coming around the bend and feel my balls tighten instantly in response. He's here. Shit.
“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself. “He can't kill you. Otherwise he gets nothing.”
It's something I've repeated to myself a million times already. And even now, after saying it one million and one times, it doesn't make me feel one iota better. Trujillo is a wild card. He's unpredictable and I never know what he's going to do, let alone what he’s thinking. He very well could decide that I’m more trouble than it’s worth. That he'll eat the money I owe him just to wash his hands of me. I just don't know.
And it's that uncertainty that has my balls climbing up into my throat.
The black SUV pulls into the rest stop, as I’m trying to avoid comparing the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires with the sound my bones would make beneath those same tires. The SUV pulls to a stop in front of me and the driver cuts the lights. After being nearly blinded by the headlights, it takes my eyes a minute to re-adjust to the darkness.
I hear the door open. Blinking away the spots, I watch as the driver walks around to the rear door and opens it. Gabriel Trujillo steps out of the vehicle and makes his way over to me. His dark hair is slicked back, and his thick beard neatly trimmed. The dark designer suit is well-fitted to his frame, with a vibrant blue pocket square, complete with matching tie - providing the only bit of color. Trujillo looks the part of a respectable businessman.
He's anything but respectable though.
Gabriel Trujillo is the head of one of the most notorious, violent, and brutal drug cartels in Mexico. Like most of the cartels, he's expanded his business operations into the U.S., moving drugs, guns, and girls. He's also eliminating his competitors along the way. The mass graves that seem almost commonplace south of the border these days, have been cropping up in places like Arizona and New Mexico. Recently, a couple had even been found in southern Colorado.
There is no question that Trujillo is solidifying his hold on power in this part of the States. And I'm right in the middle of all this shit. If I'd known who and what he was when he first approached me, I never would have gotten into bed with him in the first place. But, desperation and a lack of options make a man do stupid things sometimes. Hell, all the time.
He stops a couple of feet in front of me, smiling. He hands me one of the two cups he's holding. I look at it for a long moment, feeling completely uncertain.
“Cappuccino,” he says. “I picked one up for you on our way. Thought you might like something to warm you up.”
I reach out and take one of the cups, eyeballing it skeptically. “T-thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
We stand in silence for a moment, Trujillo sipping his drink as he looks out over the skyline of Denver, admiring it as I had been before he pulled up. I look down at the cup but don't drink, hoping he doesn't notice. Though, I know that poison isn't exactly his style. No, when Trujillo wants you dead, he makes a statement about it. It's a fact I've unfortunately had to learn as he seems to enjoy trumpeting his kills.
After a few moments, he turns around and looks at me. “It's beautiful up here at night,” he says. “Gorgeous view.”
I nod, as thick tendrils of dread wrap themselves around my throat, pulling tighter and tighter. Trujillo's eyes are darker than space and just as unfeeling. It's almost as if he can peel the skin off my bones and completely eviscerate me, with nothing more than a glance.
“Nice to see you, Michael,” Trujillo says, his accent rich and cultured. “Thank you for meeting me out here tonight.”
“Did I really have much of a choice?”
Trujillo smiles. “No, not really. But I am a firm believer in manners,” he says. “What can I say, my mother raised me to believe in being polite and observing social norms.”
“It's cold out here,” I say. “What can I do for you, Mr. Trujillo?”
“I was wondering about the money you owe me,” he says, his voice smooth and pleasant. “And more specifically, when I can expect full payment on your debt.”
I clear my throat and look down at the ground. “I'm working on it, Mr. Trujillo,” I reply. “I mean, we're doing a good job of cleaning a lot of it through the construction projects, and –”
“Yes, you're cleaning some of it and turning a tidy profit,” he says. “But, that is ultimately, a slow process. Considering the interest accruing on your original loan, you're barely breaking even at this point. I'
m looking for a more – substantial – payment, Michael.”
Shuffling my feet on the ground, I kick a small stone away. “I'm working on that, Mr. Trujillo,” I say softly. “Times have been tight lately. Some of my bids are getting undercut by –”
Trujillo moves so fast, I barely have time to register the fact that he's in motion before his hand lashes out and slaps the cup of coffee out of my grasp. I watch numbly as the cup sails through the darkness of the night, hitting the gravel of the rest stop. The top pops off and the drink spills out all over the ground.
I turn to Trujillo, my heart hammering, and a sick, queasy feeling rising in my stomach. He's staring at me, his eyes darker and harder than I've ever seen them before. Jaw clenched, body tense, fists balled at his sides, I can see Trujillo trying to physically control and restrain himself.
I should have known better. I feel myself grimacing. Trujillo is not a man who likes explanations and justifications. He expects results. Action. Those are the only things he respects.
“I don't want excuses, Michael,” he says, his voice as cold as his eyes. “I want my money.”
“I understand, Mr. Trujillo,” I say. “And I'm –”
He holds his hand up and I fall silent. The look of patience on his face is forced and I can tell, is taking a Herculean effort on his part.
“Michael, I want to make sure you understand the seriousness of your situation,” he says.
“I do, Mr. Trujillo,” I say.
The greasy, nauseous feeling rises even higher within me and I'm half-afraid I'm going to throw up on his thousand-dollar shoes.
“Are you certain of that?” Trujillo asks.
I nod. “Yes, I'm sure.”
He looks at me for a long moment, a look of skepticism on his face, which makes my stomach churn even more. Yeah, if this little meeting doesn't end soon, I'm going to puke all over the place right in front of him.
“I'm not certain you are, Michael,” he says. “I think I need to do a better job of making you understand the gravity of the situation you're in.”