Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection

by Monica Corwin

  Jackson always regretted the way he had left things with Avery. Older, wiser and in a better place in his life where he wants something more, Jackson is sure that Avery is what he’s been looking for all along. He knows he burned a bridge the day he’d walked out on her, but he refuses to let that be the reason he doesn’t at least try. He’d been foolish enough to let her go once. He wasn’t about to make that same mistake again.

  And this time, he won’t let her go…

  * * *

  You can find The Best Man by visiting Nicole’s website: www.nicolemorganauthor.com

  Acknoweldgements

  To my cover designer, Megan J. Parker Squiers with EmCat Designs, you continue to create book covers that I fall in love with each and every time. And I thank you for sharing your talent with me and my stories.

  Monica Corwin has been a delight to work with. Always through integrity and professionalism, Monica shines among the authors I’ve met along the way. Thank you, Monica.

  To the guys that I grew up with – you know who you are – you were the first to introduce me to the ‘pool hall’ vibe. You brought a certain life to the mundane, making even the more boring of nights come alive. Thank you for being my muse for Chapter One.

  To everyone else, for there are far too many to name. For the ones who are an important part of my creative and writing process, I thank you all. Without your continual support, kindness and, drive, I would not be able to weave the tales that I do.

  About the Author

  Nicole Morgan is a USA Today and International bestselling author who has been writing since 2009. Her main genre of writing falls under the erotic romance category, with her novels more often than not have a suspenseful back story. Think of it as hot and steamy romance mixed with good old-fashioned whodunit. While she’s written everything from contemporary to paranormal, her leading men will more than likely be wearing a uniform of some kind. From military to police officers, she has a love for writing about those who protect and serve. From her very first novel (which turned into a four-book series) about Navy SEALs to her more recent releases you will be sure to find a few twists and turns you were not expecting.

  Nicole also writes under the pen names of Taylor Brooks and Nicki Day.

  * * *

  www.NicoleMorganAuthor.com

  www.nicolemorganauthor.blogspot.com

  Controlled By Love

  An Office Themed Romance

  Ju Ephraime

  Controlled By Love

  An Office Themed Romance

  Ju Ephraime

  Connecticut, 2017

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publishers, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  * * *

  ENVISION Business & Computer School Publishing, an Imprint of ENVISION Business & Computer School, LLC

  23 Kimberly Avenue West Haven, CT 06516

  * * *

  Copyright © 2018 Julia E. Antoine

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  ISBN-10 1-7320047-0-6/978-1-7320047-0-2

  LCCN: 2018933845

  www.juliaeantoine.com

  www.envisionschoolpublishing.com

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address inquiries to, ENVISION, 23 Kimberly Avenue, West Haven, CT 06516.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  To all the people of the world, man or woman, who had ever fantasied after a co-worker, and imagined what it would be like to fulfill that fantasy, this book is for you!

  * * *

  Enjoy!

  Controlled By Love

  For Dean Holmes, being in control is vital to his survival. He loves the feeling of power when he’s in control. Power is good, but power without control is nothing. His control rules his life with an iron fist, and that fist never lets up, not for anything or anyone, not even in the bedroom. He’s vowed to never get emotionally involved, whether it’s business or pleasure.

  He hasn’t reckoned on the temptations that fate sometimes throws in one’s path. In Dean’s case, temptation comes in the form of Robyn Blackman. When she walks into his office to discuss a deal, her impact on him is so powerful he feels his equilibrium shift. Now he finds himself spiraling out of control with a need that defies explanation, and he suddenly finds himself out of control.

  Robyn Blackman slowly, but surely, weaves her spell on Dean, even while she fights her attraction to him. If she wins, his very identity will be destroyed and his greatest fear will be realized, but he has to give up control if he wants to gain her love… Can he go against the very fabric of his being? He has to decide quickly before Robyn is out of his reach.

  Dean fights tooth and nail to maintain control. He can’t do it… He won’t, no matter how tempting. He will not give up his control… He will never belong to her… He will not allow himself to be controlled by love.

  Introduction

  My name is Dean Holmes, and I’m a control freak. I know it, I accept it, and I own it. I’ve been that way from a young age. At the age of ten, when all my friends and classmates were playing games and thinking about girls, I was busy establishing my first business, selling snacks in my little pushcart out of the largest university in Connecticut—Yale.

  I lived within walking distance of the university, and there were always a lot of students hanging out, walking to and from classes. Most of them had little or no time between classes to stop for a snack; these were my customers.

  By the time I graduated high school, I’d amassed twenty-five thousand dollars, buying and selling snacks and candy to Yale students. In my final year of high school, it had gotten so bad, I didn’t want to go to school. I wanted to sell candy and snacks full-time, but my mom wouldn’t hear of it. She threatened to send me to a boys’ home if I didn’t take my schooling seriously. My mother was no joke when she set her mind to something. She was determined that I get an education and a full scholarship to attend college because she said she couldn’t afford to send me, but she was determined I would go to one of the best. So my schoolwork was important. Much as I was a control freak, I paled in comparison to my mom. I conceded only to her. So, I slowed down on my selling and focused on my schoolwork.

  I grew up with a single mother and never knew my father, but many are the times I heard my mother say, when she became too frustrated with me, “You are just like your father…. Like father, like son.”

  “How could I be like my father, Mom? I don’t even know him. When will you introduce me to this man I’m so much like?”

  “Dean, how many times have I told you your father is dead?”

  “Plenty of times, but if he’s dead, why do you keep comparing me to him?”

  “Because that’s exactly how he was when he was alive—a control freak. He was always trying to control everyone around him, including me. But I wouldn’t let him. When he died, or left, I breathed a sigh of relief.”

  “Did he leave, or is he dead? One minute you say ‘he’s dead’, and the next you say, ‘when he left’. Maybe, one day, you’ll tell me the truth about my father, Mom, but in the meantime, I’d prefer if you cease comparing me to him. If you ask me, I believe I’m more like you. I am my mother’s son.”

  “See what I mean? Even in that you have to have the last word. One day, you’ll meet your match, and you’ll have to concede.”

  “Tha
t, Mom, will never happen, not in this lifetime, so don’t hold your breath.”

  My mom gave me a look that had me vowing to prove her wrong. I loved my mom, but I just couldn’t let her have it all her way, and like everyone in my life, she walked away and left me standing there. I was fifteen at the time, and now fifteen years later, I have not met anyone who could do anything better than I could—not even close.

  Although I argued with my mom, at the back of my mind, I knew I liked giving orders instead of taking them. It was not that I wanted to. It was just that I always did it better. I could never join a group and be a team player. I had to take the lead. I was not even aware that I was doing it. It just seemed to happen. None of my classmates wanted me in any group with them because they knew, before they realized it, they would be doing what I wanted and not what the group wanted.

  I had very few friends; I wasn’t able to keep them. Most times, when the couple of friends I did have would come over to hang out, even if they had something in mind that they wanted to do, watch a particular movie, listen to songs, it was always the ones I wanted. In the end, they would all leave in a huff. I really didn’t care; it was my way or….

  I went through all my teenager years as a loner. I was a successful loner, but a loner nonetheless. I was on my second business by the age of nineteen. The first one had taught me a lot of things about running and managing a business. I’d done the entire thing with no help from anyone, but after attending Yale School of Business on a full scholarship, and graduating magna cum laude, I was ready for the big world. I had written a business plan for my thesis at school, and after receiving an A+, I took it and approached a local bank and was able to secure a five-thousand-dollar business loan, just on the strength of my business plan. And also the bank manager said he saw something in me—I was driven.

  1

  ~Dean~

  At twenty-one, I opened my third business, a real estate investment company. I needed more money than I had at the time, so I brought in two partners, Levi Morrison and John FitzGerald. By bringing in the two of them, we ended up with one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in liquid cash; one hundred thousand of it was mine, and fifty thousand split between Levi and John.

  Levi and I butted heads from the get-go, but he had excellent people skills, and I needed him as the front man. He was good with the ladies. He was good-looking with the body of a model and the face of an angel. Any deal that we needed setting up, we sent Levi. I always went in to close the deal. That satisfied the control instinct always driving me.

  Where Levi was loud and flashy, John was more like me, quiet and reserved. He worked in the background, setting up the contracts and designing the renovations, if we had to do any. We were all three single, but John and Levi were in steady relationships while I wasn’t. I didn’t have the time or the energy it took to nurture a steady relationship. I was all about making money.

  We started out buying one property in Manhattan, which we bought for one hundred and twenty-five thousand, almost all our liquid cash. It was in one of those row houses that New York is famous for. I had to pretty much fight Levi to get him to agree with the purchase, but after putting fifty-five thousand, which we got from an advance from the bank, into it, we sold it for four hundred and fifty thousand, more than doubling our money. We were on our way.

  After that first property, we didn’t have to use our money to finance the properties; the bank gave us short-term loans based on our reputation and our portfolio. We rose so quickly that we didn’t know what hit us.

  In five years, we had become multimillionaires. One minute we were small-time investors, and the next we were hanging out with the high rollers. We were young with so much money going through our hands, we didn’t know what to do with it.

  Levi and John began spending a lot of their time and money on their women. They each bought expensive cars, and Levi even bought a single-engine plane. He no longer wanted to travel with us commoners; he wanted to fly on his private jet. John spent his money on luxury vehicles. By my last count, he owned six. I never lost sight of the big picture. I owned two vehicles, an Escalade and a Jaguar. I happened to like the Jaguar. The Escalade was my vehicle for work.

  I was still not in a steady relationship. I still hadn’t met anyone who moved me enough to go steady. This was a sad disappointment for my mom, who was waiting to get those grandbabies. I had already told her she’d have to adopt a couple because I was not going with any woman without being sheathed. I had not met a woman who had me so turned on that I’d forget to get sheathed…. Not one. I was always cool and calculated. I controlled the dating, the lovemaking, exactly how long the foreplay lasted, and exactly when the sex began and ended. I made certain the woman was satisfied, but on my terms; if she became too clingy, I was quick to bounce. I disliked dependent women. I had my assistant buy her an expensive gift, and she was history.

  I had a couple of rough patches, when it was touch and go there for a minute. Some of them just didn’t want to let go. I could be brutally honest when that happened, but the last woman refused to accept my gift and go quietly. She came up with a pregnancy and accused me of being the father. No matter how much I denied being the father of her unborn child, she wasn’t having it and took me to court.

  She was so convincing she was able to convince my mother that she was carrying her grandchild. God, it was brutal. I had to wait nine months before I was able to convince my mother that she was not going to be a grandmother and the child that money-grabbing gold digger was carrying was not mine.

  Finally, I had my day in court, and when I stood there on the witness stand and the judge read the paternity test that 99.99999 percent proved that baby was not mine, I could have hollered to the rooftop. But I was too mad to even holler. I was mad at the bitch and angry with my mother, who was actually in tears that the baby wasn’t mine. She acted as if she wanted me to take the baby even after the judge had said there wasn’t the remotest possibility that baby could be mine. She wanted to be grandmother to another man’s child. Who would’ve thought?

  I stormed out of that courtroom, upset with my mom. I couldn’t look at her while she was busy hugging the woman.

  I stood outside and waited until she walked out, still wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Mom, I can’t believe you.”

  “What can’t you believe?”

  “You’re acting as if you wanted me to accept the baby that woman wanted to foist on me.”

  “It had nothing to do with you, Dean. I felt sorry for her. Now she has a baby without a father.”

  “How do you know that the baby doesn’t have a father, Mom?”

  “She told me.”

  “So, you’d be okay with it if I had accepted the baby?”

  “Yes, at least I’d have one grandbaby.”

  “Mom, you have to quit with the grandbaby talk. I just can’t believe you would be okay with this woman taking my rights and my control by forcing me to be a father against my decision.”

  “If you felt that way, Dean, you should not have slept with her.”

  “Mom, I slept with her, but I took double protection. I didn’t wear only one rubber; I wore two, just to make doubly sure my seed did not have any contact with her body. What else was I supposed to do?”

  “I’m sorry, Dean. Could we just leave it? I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  I knew my mom; she’d keep letting that woman use her, but I couldn’t tell her who to befriend and who not to. I’m just saying her loyalty should have been with me, her son. I was the one who was wronged. I was the victim here. I made a promise there and then, before I even got my dick anywhere near a woman’s vagina, I’d have her investigated. I would want to know everything there was to know about her; I was taking no chances. I also curtailed my activity in that regard.

  Sometimes, I paid to get laid when I became too desperate. I hated doing it; it was not the same. The fact that I knew it was my money that had brought her underneath me… i
t took the thrill out of the entire thing. I just went through it like a biological function. It was just as controlled as it was using my hands.

  It had been six months since that court date, and I could count on one hand the number of women I’d slept with. I went about with a hard-on most days. It was coming to the point what I was doing with my hand wasn’t working. I needed something more. I was just not willing to go down that road again, which left me like a bear with a sore tooth… hurting all the time. I was not good company most days. Having a permanent hard-on is painful shit.

  One morning, I had a meeting at ten a.m., and I woke in my usual state of arousal. I had to forego my normal boxers and step into a jockstrap, and even that wasn’t doing the trick, so I was wearing my shirt outside of my trousers. I wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t want to appear disrespectful to my client. I was meeting a prospective client to close a deal, and I didn’t need to be dealing with this shit today of all days. So, as was to be expected, I was in a shitty mood. I couldn’t even enjoy my breakfast because sitting was uncomfortable. I finally gave up all pretense of eating and downed three cups of black coffee; and picking up my briefcase, I walked out, annoyed with myself and everyone around me. But not once did it occur to me to change the way I lived my life. Everything with my professional life was going great. I was making money, the business was growing, and everything was on track for us to have an even more profitable year. But I was having a very difficult time dealing with the limitations I had placed on myself. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t know how to let go, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I had a fear that if I were to relax and ease up on the control I currently exerted on the business and myself, everything would literally fall apart. I was just not willing to take that chance.