by Ada Frost
Copyright © 2016 Ada Frost
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are all the product of the author’s imagination. Resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses or establishments, incidents or locales are entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved by the author. No part of this book – except in the case of brief quotation in reviews or marketing — may be used, reproduced or copied without the written consent of the author.
Contact information: [email protected]
Publishing History
Ada Frost, May 2016
ISBN-13:978-1537144085
ISBN-10:1537144081
Cover Artist: Kage Covers
Developmental Editor: Kelley Lynn at Cookie Lynn Publishing
Copyedited: Suzi Retzlaff at Cookie Lynn Publishing
Photographer: Andrei Vishnyakov
Published in the UK.
Copyright
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
For anyone who ever felt like giving up.
You are strong, and you can do this.
Have a little faith even when things are bleak.
This world needs you.
This world loves you.
Don’t give up.
It was official. I was completely and utterly broke. I had seventy-two pence in my purse to last for the entire week.
“You have to be exaggerating, Abby,” my cousin, Lacey insisted, touching up her already perfect lipstick in the bathroom vanity as I sat on the bed watching her.
“I honestly wish I was. But as of this letter arriving, I’m skint, on the brink of destitution. I may need to stand on a street corner and sell my soul to the devil.” I hated lying but the truth was my life had taken a serious nosedive into the depths of debt-hell months ago. The letter just added to my impending doom.
“Honey, I doubt you’d be lucky enough to meet the devil, just some creepy old guy with rancid breath and sweaty balls.”
“Eww.” I shuddered at the thought, but I couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped at Lacey’s demonstration of the man she just described. She came out of the bathroom and headed over to me.
“Hey, sweet cheeks, suck my wrinkly old cock for a tenner. If you can find it within the hour, I’ll double the price.” She grabbed the back of my head and thrust her hips at me, groping her non-existent junk. I squealed at her to stop, trying hard not to laugh when my life was spiralling.
“You know I’ll help you out. Give me the bill, and I’ll pay it on my way to work.”
It was so tempting to do that. To take her money and stop the mounting interest I was accruing from my non-payments. Living without electricity and gas was harder than I would ever have imagined. Lying to my best friend felt worse. I knew if I confessed to what was happening, she would take out her cheque book and clear my debts, but I refused to let her do that. It was my problem, and I would find a way to fix it.
“Without any means of paying it back, I can’t take your cash, Lace.”
“I earn enough that I won’t miss it right away.” She sat beside me, pulling on her ridiculously high-heeled boots. If I was to wear heels that high, I’d end up spending the night in accident and emergency, if not the morgue.
“What is it you do exactly?” I’d been asking this question for over a year, and she was always vague about her profession. I knew it was in the super illustrious building on the outskirts of York, the one you couldn’t even enter without a security pass and dental record. “Are you a government spy?” I was beginning to think it was highly likely.
“Yeah, I’m an incredibly beautiful one.” She laughed.
“I could be a spy.”
Lacey all but choked. “You would be the worst spy ever in the history of secret services. You talk too much.”
“But that could be the thing, no one would expect me to be a spy, because I say far too much.”
“You need to stop watching Spooks.”
“Hmm...but you have to agree it would be amazing to be interrogated by Rupert Penry-Jones.” I waggled my eyebrows at her.
“True. But you need to catch up. Also he hasn’t been in it for the last three seasons.” She again made her way into the bathroom to perfect her already immaculate hair. Tall, blonde, and incredibly stunning with big blue eyes and pouty lips. She was every man’s fantasy and a total sweetheart.
“What am I going to do? McDonalds won’t even employ me.”
“You hate McDonald’s food.”
“I know.”
“Probably not the best thing to have said during your interview though.”
“I was only being honest. The guy questioned what I liked most about the company. On a positive note I did say the restaurants were nicely decorated.”
“You’re hopeless at interviews. Telling a few lies sometimes comes in handy. You know, like when you had an interview at the pet store and you told the shop manager it was overpriced and people can get the products cheaper elsewhere.”
“He asked what could be improved.”
“Again, babe, bend the truth a little.”
“Well, their stuff is overpriced,” I huffed. “I’m beginning to think prostitution is my only hope.”
“Yeah, I really dread how your honesty in that department would go.”
“I’d probably be the first prostitute ever who was required to give a refund.”
Lacey chuckled. Her expression danced with amusement before dulling.
“You could always sell the house.” Her voice was taut; she knew she would be causing me physical pain with those words.
“I can’t.” A lump formed in my throat and threatened to choke me.
“You have to let go. Your mum would understand.”
I could only shake my head as I stared at the debt collection notice in my hands. I refused to let the house go, and if that meant making money in less than savoury means, I would. Living in a semi-detached house in York was crippling me financially, but I had no choice. My home was the last thing I would give up. It was all I had left.
As if sensing my pain, Lacey stopped her primping and sat beside me on the bed. “Abby, let me help. Just until you find something.”
The crushing defeat becoming too much to tolerate, I dipped my chin in a weak nod. Why was it possible to fail so epically when you tried your damned hardest?
She wrapped her arm around me, pulled me into her side, and pressed a kiss to my temple.
“I just wish I wasn’t such a fuck up.”
“You’re not. Not in the slightest. You’re one of the strongest people I know and not many could have done what you did. You’re behind with one bill, babe. It isn’t the end of the world.”
“Most people would have done it.” It’s more than one bill too. I’m destroying rainforests with the damn things.
“No, I guarantee I wouldn’t have. Neither of my parents deserve the devotion you showed Aunt Sal. Neither do I have the stamina for what you dealt with.”
The pain of her words, the constant reminder I wasn’t only failing myself but my mother too, was crushing me. I think it was hard for Lacey to understand my need to hold onto the house becau
se of her fraught relationship with her own parents.
She jumped up and started going through her bag. She was so sudden in her movements I almost tumbled from the bed.
“What the...”
She pulled out her mobile phone, pressed her fingers against the screen a few times, and placed it against her ear. I didn’t freaking own a landline let alone a mobile.
“Hey, Sam, it’s Lexi.” She glanced at me, her cheeks colouring.
Lexi?
“Does Mr Stone still need a secretary?” she asked, giving me a meaningful stare. “Hmm.” She giggled, the sickliest sweet sound I’d ever heard. Was she flirting with the guy? “I may have a...friend interested in the position.” She paused again, but I straightened my spine, praying the position wasn’t filled and I at least had a shot. “I understand...yeah...no, I’ll make sure of it...yes Sam, I’ll be accountable, I swear...yeah...okay...thank you. You’re the best.”
She ended the call, and I shuffled a little closer waiting to hear what she said.
“Listen, don’t hate me.” She started guiltily. “My boss has needed a secretary for a while, but honestly, Abby, I wouldn’t be mentioning it if you weren’t desperate.”
“Why?” I questioned suspiciously.
“It’s not exactly…conventional where I work.” She looked anywhere but at me. “Sam said he can’t guarantee that Mr Stone will agree to interview you. But they are in urgent need so it looks hopeful.”
“Okay,” I said hopefully.
“He’s a little...prickly, to say the least. Sam is amazing though. He’s the other partner. But most of us think of Mr Stone as the boss.”
“Right.”
“You need to come with me to work, and Sam said he would put a word in for you.”
“Today?” I all but screeched.
“Yes. See what happens when you drop in and I’m getting ready for work? We need to get you changed into something a lot more appropriate. Go shower, as quickly as possible. We can slick your hair back and dry the braid so it stays neat. You have a suit, right? I’ll go get it while you’re in the shower.”
“Err...I have black trousers and a blouse.”
“Abby, you’re bloody hopeless. Doesn’t matter; forget the shower. Dry shampoo will have to do. We need to get you a neat outfit.” She glanced at her watch. “We have an hour. You’re lucky I have a late start to help you out.”
She grabbed her bag and pulled me to my feet. She looked down at my body, and I'm sure I saw her wince. I was wearing faded black leggings, my old Converse that had seen much better days, and a t-shirt I’d owned since college. Admittedly it had a few unknown stains, and the hem was frayed, but it was comfortable.
“I feel sick.” Lacey checked her makeup for the millionth time in the rear-view mirror before we got out of her very nice BMW. The leather was so soft it was like having your bottom caressed by a leather masseuse. I was now wearing black tailored trousers, a cream button up blouse, and a black fitted jacket. She had yanked and pulled at my hair to slick it back into a ponytail. There was so much hairspray in it I needed a flammable sign sticking to my arse. The makeup she applied was light, beauty enhancing rather than pore blocking plaster. I felt great, but Lacey was freaking out, and she had put a serious dent on her credit card with this crap. Something else I didn’t need adding to my financial worries. Never had I seen her this stressed. She lived her life like she was in a constant state of orgasmic bliss. I kind of hated her in an, I totally love her to bits, way.
“Lace, honestly I’ll be fine.”
“Mr Stone likes things perfect. And I mean perfect. Please, for the love of God, don’t use your honest approach. Lie through your teeth if you have to and I promise you won’t go to hell just this once. And have an open mind, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Before your interview, you will have to sign an NDA.”
“A what?”
“Non-disclosure agreement.”
“You are a spy.”
“Babe, be serious please,” she pleaded, she nipped at her manicured nails with her teeth. I wanted to tell her that I was being serious. “Sam is great. If he interviews you, I’ve no doubt he will love you. But Mr Stone...well, he’s an entirely different kettle of fish.”
“Look, I swear I won’t embarrass you.” I placed my hand over hers and squeezed.
“I’m not scared you’ll embarrass me. You could never do that,” she said earnestly. “I don’t want him to rip you to shreds. He’s known to be a total bastard. We don’t call him heartless for nothing. He pays the best wages in the business though.” Colour stained her cheeks again. She was definitely a secret agent. All this cloak and dagger crap wasn’t fooling me anymore. Excitement raced through me at the thought of being a super-secret secretary to a world spy.
“Stop grinning. That isn’t helping my nerves,” she snapped.
“Lace, I’ve got this. Let’s go before we’re late.”
She quickly glanced at her watch and cursed. We headed through the underground car park to a lift.
She was fidgety, and her nerves were beginning to rub off on me, which was pissing me off.
When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, a man in a black uniform greeted us. She handed him a security badge and glanced over at me.
“She’s here for an interview with Mr Stone and Mr Lloyd. Call up to Scarlet. She will confirm it,” Lacey clarified. The guy, who was gorgeous in that rugged beefy type of way, looked me up and down. He cocked an eyebrow at me before glancing at Lacey. She rolled her eyes. “Just call Sam,” she insisted.
The guy did as instructed, his American accent was unexpected. I wasn’t a fan of the cold attitude and surly way he looked at Lacey or spoke about her over the telephone. “That guy is an arse,” I blurted, not so quietly.
“Remember what I said about the honesty thing.”
I huffed out a breath, not at all sorry for calling the dick out. Wasn’t like he was interviewing me. He pushed a button and allowed us to enter another lift. After ascending so many floors it felt like we’d finally arrived in heaven. Especially seeing as everything was very...white. In fact I was beginning to wish I'd brought my sunglasses for the glare. The floor was black, but the walls were white, the ceiling, even the lilies on the glass coffee table were white.
"How the hell do they keep this place clean?" I muttered. I even glanced behind me to check I wasn't leaving footprints. We passed a huge curved desk, which was currently unmanned. Lacey led me through a door, which brought us to a corridor that wasn't so migraine inducing. When we stopped, it was in a small area that appeared neither an office nor a reception. It had two bucket chairs, a small round coffee table, and a large beverage dispenser.
“Okay, Sam knows you’re here.”
“Is that Mr Lloyd?”
“Yeah. Just wait here. I have to go get ready... to work. Good luck.” She pulled me into a hug. “I love you.”
“Love you too. Pussy Galore.”
Lacey pulled back and stared at me. “What?”
“It was the only female character I could think of from James Bond. You know, secret spies.”
Lacey chuckled and hugged me again. “You’re batshit crazy. Be open minded and less honest.” She turned to walk away when I called out to her.
“Thank you.”
“Make me proud. That’s all I ask.”
Unexpected tears prickled my eyes, because that was something Mum always said. I sat down in one of the chairs and fiddled with my portfolio, which admittedly was a little sparse. I waited over half an hour in the cold lobby. Men and women arrived, all incredibly beautiful. Perfectly coifed just like Lacey. And they all headed through the same door Lacey had.
I was getting ready to give up and head home when the door to my right opened, and a tall, medium built man stood glaring at me. He looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a GQ magazine. His chiselled jaw and handsome features were model perfect. He couldn’t have been much older than me at
twenty-five, so I assumed it wasn’t Mr Stone. Maybe this was Sam, the nicer of the two.
A girl can dream her boss will be gorgeous eye candy, something pleasing to look at. I certainly wasn’t expecting a guy who looked like he belonged in a boy band or on billboards modelling underwear, spoiled only by the glowering expression he wore. I stood and turned to face him, offering a small smile, hoping to somehow convey I refused to be intimidated by his scowl.
He had sable hair, and his eyebrows and lashes were the same onyx. I couldn’t see what colour his eyes were from here, but going with trend, I’d say black to match his mood.
“Hi,” I said, hating how weak it sounded.
“Miss Warner, I believe?”
“Call me Abby, sir?” That was polite – right?
“Mr Stone.”
“Call me Abby, Mr Stone.” I stepped forward and held out my hand to shake, but he simply stared at it like I carried some venereal disease. He turned to the side and motioned for me to enter his office.
“Please, let’s get this over with.” The tone in his voice indicated he had already dismissed me as a possible candidate for the position, which in turn heightened my fight response. I might've been down, but I never gave up without a fight. Certainly never with someone looking down their nose at me.
I entered his office and paused, gawping at the sterile feel. It was one large room partitioned into two separate offices by a wall of glass. The floor was black granite. Tiny flecks of silver glinted at me.
It was so shiny that when I glanced down at my feet, I had a perfectly clear reflection of myself. Better remember to stand with my legs closed when wearing a skirt.
“Wow, I could do my make up in this thing,” I muttered.
“I’m happy to wait until you are more presentable,” he smirked.
The bastard. I ignored him, better not to engage the arsehole until I had sharpened my claws.
The longest wall, excluding the wall of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city, was frosted glass. There wasn’t an internal door closing his from the other office. That I hope become my work space.