Adam's Fall
Page 1
Adam’s Fall
(Touch of Tantra #2)
by Liv Morris
Copyright © 2014 Liv Morris
Digital Edition: 2014
Cover Design by Sarah Hansen of Okaycreations.net
Cover image: Scott Hoover Photography
Edited by Lauren Schmelz and Jen Matera Write Divas Editing
Proofing by Marla Esposito
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
ISBN-13: 978-149090715
Adam’s Fall
(Touch of Tantra #2)
Table of Contents
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
Epilogue
For the Reader
About the Author
TEMPTATION
Dedication
To Lauren.
Chapter 1
The monotonous sound of the cable news program echoes in my private hospital room. The television acts as my connection to the outside world. The last thing I want to experience right now is silence, so I crank the volume up a couple of notches. Left idle, my thoughts will drift back to the ugly, tragic scene from a couple of hours ago where Simon’s body lay cold, his lifeless eyes staring ahead, judging me. I shake my head, and try to clear the image from my mind as the talking heads drone on and on. I perk up when I hear the name of my asshole father, Xavier Thorpe.
“Xavier Thorpe, and his conglomerate Thorpe Industries, are coming under fire from city officials in Indianapolis. Thorpe Industries closed the Republic Manufacturing plant on Friday with plans to ship production to an overseas facility. The decision left two thousand workers unemployed.
“What a fucking prick,” I mutter under my breath.
Gary Fredrick, the mayor of Indianapolis had this to say, ‘Wall Street may love Thorpe, but he is despised here on Main Street. He's nothing more than an industrial sociopath. Wiping out industries and people's dreams in places like Indiana without even a forethought.’”
An industrial sociopath! That’s a brilliant and perfect definition of Thorpe and his greedy business dealings. He ruins lives to line his own pockets.
The news anchor moves on to the next story and I see my photo flash across the screen. Great. They’re already reporting on Simon’s shooting.
The photo shows me dressed in my Armani tux. The image reflects a man who is at the top of his game, conquering his world. The man of bravado I was such a short time ago. Now I’m sitting by myself in a hospital room, surrounded by my own demons.
“No one from Kings Capital has given an official comment concerning the alleged love triangle between the now-deceased Simon Edwards, his ex-fiancée Marta Llewellyn, and the CEO of Kings Capital, Adam Kingsley.
However, authorities confirm that Edwards, a founding partner and top executive of Kings Capital, was fired last Wednesday. It is also confirmed from hotel security footage that Edwards was the alleged shooter earlier today in the incident in front of The Pierre that injured Adam Kingsley.
One Wall Street analyst, Stuart Cross of IEF Securities, believes Mr. Kingsley’s high profile image and this morning’s shooting will hammer Kings Capital stock. Cross foresees Kings Capital facing big questions from clients and key shareholders. He says, quote, “This event may even affect Adam Kingsley’s ability to continue as head of Kings Capital.”
My world spins as every word spewing from the reporter’s mouth lands accusingly on my shoulders. To the outside world my guilt is automatic, whether it is true or not. The so-called prediction by this analyst hits me like a punch in the gut. This clusterfuck surrounding Simon could infect every part of the company and my leadership.
“Who the hell are these ‘inside sources’?” I hiss through my clenched teeth. Red-hot anger courses through every cell in my body. Anger at myself, anger at Simon, and anger that no one will ever know the truth. There was no love affair between Marta and me. It was a forgettable fuck that I wasn’t aware had morphed into a twisted obsession on her part.
As seething fury causes my body to shake, and I breathe in deeply, calming myself down, an image of Simon flashes in front of me. He’s lying on the sidewalk where he was shot. He’s not dead, though. His are eyes full of life while his mouth twists into a mocking smile of hate. Closing my eyes, I bury my head in my hands, stunned by what has to be my stressed-induced imagination. Upon opening my eyes and clearing my head, the unworldly vision of Simon disappears, but my rage remains.
“Fucking lies. Goddammit!” I shout at the mocking faces glowing from the television as the soothsayers continue divining my doom. In my blind rage, I grab the closest object I come in contact with. My keys. With the television as my bull’s-eye, I hurl them forward and flinch as the stitches in my side protest my violent movement.
The keys miss their mark and crash into the stark white wall, falling with a clack when they hit the floor. I’m not sure if my rage is directed at the gossipmongers or if I’m trying to squelch Simon’s appearance in my mind. I decide it’s likely both.
Hayes, a physical incarnation of Goliath and my personal bodyguard, pushes my door open, his hand inside his navy jacket. The banging commotion and my yelling likely drew attention from behind the closed door.
“What the hell is going on?”
I scoff at his overreaction since he knows I’m the only one in the room. The ghost of Simon is unseen by him, but I swear I hear Simon’s voice mocking and wondering how an oaf like Goliath killed him. Again I shake my head, knowing my ears are playing tricks on me.
A nurse peeks into the room around Goliath as if she’s waiting for the red, angry dust to settle. “Are you okay, sir?”
“Yes, yes. I’m okay,” I grunt impatiently as I rub my head. Goliath strides to my side, more relaxed now that there isn’t an immediate threat. The nurse has already disappeared from sight. Who I’d like to see appear at the door is Kathryn, but I haven’t a clue where she is since we were separated downstairs.
“Listen, I really need to get the hell out of here. Would you try to locate my doctor?” I peer up at Goliath. He saved my life, so I owe him some respect. There’s no reason to crucify him for being concerned about my safety, so I curb the angry tone in my response.
“You bet. I’ll get the nurse right on it.” Goliath resembles the dutiful soldier eager to help out his ass of a commander.
The hospital moved me to a private room before stitching up where the bullet grazed me. I was given VIP status the instant they found out my name. Now I need to escape this place and figure out how to handle all the negative press. Kings Capital will not be tarnished by what happened today.
When the door shuts beh
ind Goliath, my phone vibrates and rattles across the side table. Messages and texts, no doubt. I glance over the incoming list and find the one person I want to speak with most missing in the rundown.
Kathryn.
I have no idea where she is now. I’ve been texting and calling her relentlessly because Peters sent her away without my consent. He claims his intention was to keep Kathryn from being caught up in the middle of everything. I told him he could go to hell; she needs to be here with me.
Fuck, she was almost killed by Simon because of me. I ached to have my arms around her, run my hands through her hair, and smell her familiar scent.
I call Kathryn again. I wait impatiently for her to answer, and after a couple of rings, she finally greets me.
“Hi, Adam.” The sweet and simple sound of her sexy voice weaves through me like a witch’s spell, calming my anger. I exhale some of the tension before I speak.
“Beautiful, where are you?” I hear the faint murmur of people talking close by her.
“I’m sitting in the hospital cafeteria. I’ve been on the phone with my mother. I wanted to tell her about today before she saw it on the news. She freaked, of course, and is worried about you. I told her you were okay—at least I think you are.” There’s a hesitation in her voice.
“I’m going to be fine. Just a few stitches. I’m as mad as hell Peters kept you from coming up here with me.”
When the orderly was wheeling me upstairs, Peters had a crazy notion to tell Kathryn to wait downstairs until things cooled down. I told him he overstepped his authority, and Kathryn should’ve been the first person in my room after the doctor left.
I want her with me. I need her with me. I considered firing his ass when I found out what he’d done. But after seeing the news report and the media shitstorm brewing around me, Peters may not have been completely wrong to send Kathryn away. Getting Kings Capital out of this mess is likely to be one of the hardest fights in my professional life.
“I wondered if you knew what he said to me. I figured you might be upset, but there was no arguing with him in the ER.” Her voice reflects some anger. “Can I come up now? Is the coast clear?”
“Hell yes, you can come up here. I’ve straightened everything out with Peters and... I need to see you.” I don't want to sound like a sappy, lovesick teenager, but it was the fucking truth.
“I need to see you, too.” Relief shoots through me. Letting my true feelings show is new territory for me since vulnerability isn’t one of my strong suits.
The door to my room opens and a man in a white coat walks in.
“Kathryn, my get-out-of-jail-free card just walked in the room. I’m in room 1401. Please come up.”
“I’ll be right there.” I’m relieved when I sense the urgency in her voice, too.
With my doctor approaching, I place the phone on the table next to me, fully aware that I’ve ignored everyone else who’s tried to reach me and have likely pissed them off.
Dr. Payne—interesting name for a man of medicine—stands next to my bed and holds a clipboard in one hand while he flips through the attached paperwork.
“Sorry I had to run off.” He’s been gone almost an hour since he left me, saying he’d be right back. “I was needed in the ER. We’re a little short staffed today.”
“I understand, Dr. Payne,” I reply as he lays the clipboard on the bed. “But I’m ready to get out of this joint.”
“There’s no reason to keep you here any longer. Your injuries are minor. However, we have to do things properly. A nurse will be here in a few minutes with your discharge papers.”
“Great.” My dry sarcasm earns me a slight smile from the doctor.
“A little warning of what to expect from your injuries. You will have some bruising and tenderness around the stitches. You were very lucky today. Things could’ve been a lot worse.”
“I know.” Those two simple words contain a thankful acknowledgement. I think about the angle of Simon’s gun. If it had been pointed a few inches over, I would be Simon's roommate in the morgue.
“Give it a couple days and this injury will be a distant memory, I assure you.”
“I don’t think anything about today will be a distant memory anytime soon.”
“True. The media is camped out on the sidewalk and flooding the PR department with calls.” Dr. Payne shakes his head in disgust. “I do hope things work out for you, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Thanks. Me, too.” The doctor’s smile is warm, and I can tell he’s genuine in his reassurance.
“Now, before we get the nurse started on your discharge paperwork, I’d like to discuss the matter of the tests you had us run. I have to say it was a highly unusual request under the circumstances. Most gunshot victims don’t request to be tested for STDs, but we should have the results by Friday.”
I’m unsure what the tests will reveal. I’ve been careful and never fucked anyone without a condom, but nothing’s foolproof.
“I’ll email you personally on Friday with the results. Your nurse will bring in the papers to sign.” Dr. Payne offers his hand. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Kingsley. And no more shootouts.”
I force out a short laugh and shake his hand firmly, saying, “I’ll try to stay out of trouble.”
The door blows open and Kathryn breezes into the room. With each step she takes, my chest feels lighter as the weight of my worries about my guilt and business begin to lift. Her presence brings me hope that my torn and fucked up life can be righted. Goliath follows her inside, towering behind her.
“Looks like you have company.” Dr. Payne smiles as he glances between Kathryn and me. “Sign your papers and you’re good to go.”
Kathryn glides over to the bed and stands by the doctor. Giving me a nod, Goliath retreats back toward the doorway. His stance reminds me of a soldier on duty. He’s taking this saving my life thing pretty damn seriously, but I do owe him the very air I’m breathing. I can never thank him enough for saving me so I can be with the lovely woman smiling in front of me. For those two things alone, I’ll be forever grateful to him.
“Hi, beautiful,” I say, focusing my attention back on Kathryn. She’s a sight to behold this morning. Her hair cascades around her shoulders in thick waves. All I want at this moment is to hold her tight and run my fingers through the soft strands.
“Hey,” she says with the most dazzling smile I’ve seen, and it warms my soul to know a woman like her cares for a dickhead like me.
“Doctor Payne, this is Kathryn Delcour, my woman.” She side-eyes me, surprised and maybe a little ticked off by my possessive comment. What can I say? The term just rolled off my tongue, so I shrug my shoulders, having no defense.
“Good morning, doctor.” Kathryn greets Dr. Payne with a handshake. The effect she has on the good doctor is evident as his body subtly moves closer to hers. She’s a basic man magnet.
“Good morning, Ms. Delcour. Our patient should be discharged in a few minutes. I think he’s had enough fun around here for one morning. Well, I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Thanks, doctor. Oh, when will I get the stitches out?”
“They’re dissolvable so there’s no need. Get some rest and take a few days off from the Street if you can. You’ve been through a hell of lot and are lucky to be alive.”
“I wish time off was possible, doctor, but thanks.”
The doctor gathers his papers and leaves the room. Now I need to get Goliath on the other side of the door, too.
“Hayes.” Kathryn moves to the side when I speak, so I now have full view of Goliath. “Wait in the hall, please,” I say to him. “I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Yes, sir.” He nods and retreats.
Once I hear the click of the large wooden door shutting, I take Kathryn’s hand in mine and bring it to my lips. I kiss her knuckles with a brush of my lips, never taking my eyes from hers.
“Adam,” Kathryn whispers. Her one word has so much meaning behind it. She sits down next to me on th
e bed. “You know, this morning could’ve been so much worse. How are you feeling? Okay?”
Her eyes begin to glisten, and I’m awed that this strong woman is moved to tears. For me. No longer able to stand the distance between us, I envelop her in my arms, burying my face in her hair, and getting a rush from her sweet scent.
“I’m doing fine. Better now that you’re here. I made it through with nothing more than a little scratch.” I point to my wounded side. “All’s well that ends well.”
My words aren’t totally true because I still can’t seem to shake the memory of Simon’s dead eyes, and know I’m headed for a shitstorm on Wall Street after hearing the news earlier.
“Yes. It is.” Kathryn brushes the hair away from my forehead. I lean into her gentle touch as she runs her fingers over my scalp.
“You know how good that feels? It’s been a hell of a morning.” She only answers with a smile and I close my eyes, relishing the attention she gives so freely.
“I’m so sorry for everything that happened to you today. You deserve so much better than me.”
Before she can respond, I kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. I want to possess every inch of her as I roam my hands over her silky dress. Simon could have ended her life or mine, instead we’re alive and together and for some unknown reason, she still wants me.
“I’m here with you now, Adam,” she murmurs in between my desperate kisses. “We can get through what happened today.”
“I hope you’re right, beautiful. After what you’ve been through, your strength amazes me.” My words boil over with worry. Anger and fear of the future mix together, and I hold on to her as if she’s my lifeline, knowing she can see me through the troubles ahead. But am I selfish enough to drag her through the public storms stirring around me? It’s a question I’m not prepared to answer.
Chapter 2
As my nurse, Marla, explains the doctor’s discharge instructions to me, Eddie strides through the door. Hopefully he’s brought clean clothes for me to wear home. I called my housekeeper, Rosa, for her help. She was a frantic mess after she answered the phone, speaking so fast I could barely understand a goddamned word she said.