Desire (Venture Capitalist Book 3)

by Ainsley St Claire

  Venture Capitalist:

  Desire

  Book 3

  by Ainsley St Claire

  Copyright 2018 Ainsley St Claire

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a production of the author’s imagination. Locations and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions or locations is completely coincidental.

  Venture Capitalist: Desire/Ainsley St Claire—1st edition

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Thank you!

  About Ainsley

  Hadlee

  CHAPTER ONE

  Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I can’t believe I chose this bridesmaid dress. Emerson asked us to pick the same color and fabric—we went with black silk and organza—but she wanted us all to choose a dress style that complements us.

  Doing a quick spin in front of the mirror, all I see are my breasts. Reaching into the bodice, I adjust both of them. I say with disgust, “I’m thirty-two years old, and I swear my tits are still growing. Fuck!” I’m pouring out of this dress. It’s almost pornographic.

  Jesus! I’m a pediatrician, for God’s sake, not a porn star.

  At least for a change, with the help of a firm pair of Spanx, I have a nice, trim waist. My dress is a lushly gathered organza full-length halter gown with a high slit to show off some leg. I loved it when I was with the seamstress. Now, not so much. I would hate to find one of these monster tits making an unexpected entrance during the wedding or reception.

  With a light spritz of perfume, I check my makeup one last time and take a closer inspection. I’m taped in, and this as good as it’s going to get. Ready as I’ll ever be, I walk out of my room, and I have a bit of spring to my step. I’m off to the hotel lobby to meet the rest of the wedding party.

  My good friend, Emerson, and her soon-to-be husband, Dillon, are getting married today, and I’m a bridesmaid. It’s so exciting to be here this weekend. I’m the only one in the wedding party who isn’t a family member, a partner, or an advisor to SHN. Emerson and Dillon really give a single girl like me hope that there’s a happily ever after for smart, strong, and capable women. San Francisco’s a tough place to meet many single, straight men.

  I spot Sara and her new fiancé, Trey, who also happens to be my best friend’s brother. They look sharp standing together. Sara’s stunning with her hair wrapped up in a French twist, and her neck brilliantly sets off the Mikimoto pearl choker and matching earrings that Emerson surprised us each with last night as our wedding party gift and for us to wear for the wedding.

  Trey’s always handsome with his piercing blue eyes and chocolate-brown hair that’s slicked back to keep his curls at bay. I’m watching the groomsmen arrive, and they’re all dressed in black tuxedoes with white shirts. Dillon gave his groomsmen beautiful white-gold Mikimoto pearl cufflinks. These handsome men take my breath away. They could easily pass for models instead of high-powered venture capitalists and billionaires.

  I look at Sara and Trey. Sara greets me with a big hug. “That dress puts mine to shame. Wow!”

  Blushing, I lean in and say, “The girls keep trying to escape.”

  “Lucky Cameron,” Sara whispers and winks at me. She knows I have a crush on my escort for the evening. But despite the pairing, he’s never even flirted with me, so I don’t think I’m his type. Plus, I brought my current boyfriend. I'm determined to have fun at this wedding.

  Fuck Cameron.

  Trying to be inconspicuous, I gaze around until I spot him. My stomach drops to the floor like a fish out of water. Typically, Cameron wears jeans, a pair of trendy sneakers, a concert T-shirt, and a baseball cap. Today his dirty blond hair is slicked back, thick and lustrous. His eyes are a mesmerizing deep brown that are so dark, they almost seem black with flecks of gold. His face is strong and defined, his features molded from granite, and his dark eyebrows that sloped downward always give him a serious expression. His usually playful smirk is drawn into a hard line across his face, his perfect lips ripe for the kissing.

  I sigh for what will never be, then can't help but blush. “Shh. Here he comes.”

  His voice is deep, with a serious tone. His arms wide as I step in for a cordial hug, his lips brush my ear as he speaks. “Hadlee, you are even more beautiful than usual.”

  His fingertips touch my bare back, and an audible gasp escapes my dry lips. Oh God, how embarrassing. Maybe I can play it off as if it’s a sore throat. Thankfully he didn’t seem to catch my gasp, and I take in his smell. It is positively divine—spicy ginger with a hint of citrus. Very distracting.

  You’d never guess that I grew up as part of the 1 percent. These days I live an average life as a pediatrician working with the San Francisco poor. You’d think with all my education, I wouldn’t be so nervous about being close to Cameron, but I’ve never met anyone who made my mouth go dry or my stomach drop like he does.

  Quickly Siobhan, Dillon’s sister, arrives with her dress that resembles something Audrey Hepburn would’ve had in her closet. And right behind her are Greer and CeCe.

  I hug them both and turn to Greer. “You look beautiful.” She twirls around, the short dress showing off her long legs.

  Greer admires my dress and shares, “What I wouldn’t give to have a chest like yours. This dress only works if you have fried eggs for tits.”

  “Get over yourself. You’re both perfect,” CeCe bemoans. CeCe’s dress is something to behold as well. She showed it to me before we left for the Colorado destination wedding. “Wow! Ce, your dress turned out fantastic. You both look stunning.”

  As we wait, we gossip about last night’s rehearsal dinner. We were given a very strict schedule by the wedding planner with a proverbial death threat if we’re late. Now we’re waiting for a car service to transport us to the first half of the wedding photos.

  I hear Tina, the wedding planner, before I see her. “We seem to have the wedding party all here,” she whispers into headset, and a stretch Cadillac Escalade pulls up to the hotel lobby. It’s a tight fit for the ten of us, but we all manage to climb in after a couple minutes.

  We’re driven to a small park above Lake Dillon, where we meet the wedding photographer who has Dillon with her for our pictures. I stop and stan
d still a moment, taking in the view. I grew up in San Francisco and have been to Colorado before, but usually during ski season. It’s fall now, and the weather is crisp but not too cold. Under blue and sunlit skies, the view’s wondrous to behold. In a valley at the foot of the Rockies, the lake teems with life—early boaters and swimmers. The mountains are covered with a rug of pine trees and the yellow rivers of the changing aspens, but their bare mountaintops are ensconced with a light snow that fell last night. “Wow. This is stunning. The mountains and the lake are majestic.”

  Two hours later, we’ve been posed together, apart, in pairs, and carefully with the groom. Dillon’s white as a sheet, though I can’t be sure if the guys got him drunk last night and he’s hung over, or if it’s just nerves.

  When it’s my turn to pose with Dillon, I lean over and ask, “How ya feelin’? Do you think you might like a Valium? You’re either having an anxiety attack or you’re hung over.”

  He looks at me, astonished, and then a smile crosses his face as he visibly relaxes. “No, maybe a little nervous.”

  “Well, I know I typically treat anxiety in children, but I can tell you’re getting a little stressed. I’m afraid you’re cutting the blood flow off to your extremities. I get it, you’re going to be stuck with one of my best friends for the rest of her life, but you should be enjoying this.”

  He puts his arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here. And glad to know you can get me Valium if I ever need it. Cameron must be going crazy with you in that dress.”

  I’m shocked over this, considering Cameron, much to my disappointment, has never looked twice at me. “First, Cameron doesn’t like me like that, and second, I only asked if you might like a Valium. I can only write prescriptions for my patients, and unless you age backward, you’re too old for me.”

  Leaning in and whispering so only I can hear, he shares, “I think Cameron’s a fool if he doesn’t like you like that. But I wonder… could you give the wedding planner a little dose of a Valium? Maybe she’d relax a minute.”

  “She is wound a bit tight.”

  “That’s a lot nicer way of putting it than what I was thinking.”

  The photographer has all of the bridesmaids surrounding Dillon and is posing us with Tina’s help. She may be five foot nothing in her heels, but she commands a lot of attention.

  When we finally finish, Tina marches us back to the waiting car and loads us up again to head to the church so we can meet up with the bride. After driving into Breckenridge to St. Mary’s Catholic Church, the bridesmaids are shown to the vestibule, and the men are left with a member of Tina’s team to get their job assignments.

  Emerson’s standing with her mother and one of her brother’s wives. She’s a vision of beauty. I walk over to her, taking in the contrast of sheer lace and the smooth, lustrous silk. It’s quintessentially Emerson—elegant and romantic from the front. CeCe asks her to twirl around, and it shows off the deeply cut back, which gives it a spine-tingling sexy finish.

  We circle around Emerson. “Wow. You make a beautiful bride.”

  Emerson reaches out and hugs each of us. “You all look beautiful. Thank you so much for coming and sharing this with Dillon and me.”

  I ask, “Are you nervous at all?”

  “Of course. We have many more people here than we expected, and these heels?” Emerson holds up her dress and shows off her beautiful white satin stiletto sandals. “I’m more concerned about falling flat on my face in front of everyone.”

  “You are going to be fine,” CeCe assures her. “And we’d better warn Mason that Dillon will have a huge hard-on when he sees you. He should be prepared to stand in front of Dillon to shield him if needed.”

  We all laugh, but we also know she’s absolutely right. Emerson is positively stunning.

  As we gossip over how handsome the groomsmen look, a member of Tina’s team walks up and introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Valerie. I’ll be working with you ladies. We have forty minutes until we walk down the aisle. There’re some snacks over there.” She points to a table at the side of the room with water, juices, fruit, and some light snacks. “Please help yourself.”

  I would love to eat my way through the snack table. Cheese and crackers look yummy. You can keep the carrots and celery sticks. I’m sure my stomach is growling but it’ll only be a few more hours, and then I can get out of this dress and gain back the ten pounds I lost to wear it.

  CeCe’s shown how to button up Emerson’s train, and we all visit while we wait. We hear the music begin, a classical piece starts playing over the speakers and Valerie announces, “Guests have begun arriving.”

  I wonder if I need to ask Emerson if she needs a Valium as I watch her get nervous. I know we will be kept to our schedule which means Emerson’s dad should be meeting us shortly. A short while later, Valerie listens to something through her earpiece and announces, “Okay, ladies, let’s get ourselves lined up like we did last night at the rehearsal.”

  As we line up to proceed, I’m floored by the overflow of guests who don’t have seats in the church. Emerson had shared that Tina instructed them to invite a thousand people and they could expect maybe half to come to the mountains in Colorado. They were stunned when almost everyone who was invited responded that they were coming. It’s one thing to know there are over a thousand guests, but to see it and then be the center of attention—even if only for a few moments—makes me extremely uncomfortable. Like Emerson, I worry about tripping and falling as I walk down the aisle in these sandals which are too tall.

  It’ll be a miracle if I don’t have giant sweat stains on my dress by the time Emerson makes it to the front of the church. Wouldn’t that be a pretty sight? I’m great with kids, less great with adults, and I’m terrible in crowds.

  As we wait patiently, our flower girl, Amelie, sits on the bench, kicking her feet in the air as if she wishes she were on a swing. In the warm light of early fall, her hair glows chestnut, tumbling in curls down to the black dress she’s wearing. Her brother, Jack, sits next to her, giving her a small poke in the stomach.

  Valerie kneels next to the kids. "Hey, you guys. Ready to carry some flowers? And the ring pillow?"

  The kids nod at Valerie. The little girl peers up at me, brown eyes wide. "I'm gonna ride my bike later. I've got a new helmet with lights on it, plus princesses and mermaids!" As she speaks, her cheeks dimple and eyes sparkle with pride. "My bike’s pink. Do you have a bike?”

  “I do. Maybe one day we can ride our bikes together. That sounds like a lot of fun. Now make sure you do what Miss Valerie says.”

  “I promise.” She’s ushered to the back of the line so she’s standing in front of Emerson, who bends down to talk to the kids on their level. They hug her after a few moments, everyone clearly excited to get started.

  My palms are getting wet, and I’m sure I’m going to hyperventilate. I can hear the buzz of the people in the church and spot people standing in the back. Valerie walks up with a bottle of water; I must look as nervous as I feel. I take tiny sips as we wait to walk down the aisle. I don't want to chew on my nails or lips, so I find myself gnawing on the inside of my cheek.

  “Canon in D” begins, and my anxiety increases. Soon it’ll be my turn to be front and center. I remind myself that they really are most interested in seeing Emerson walk down the aisle.

  Out of the side of my eye, I spot Valerie signaling Siobhan to walk. I look back at Emerson; she’s calm, cool, and collected. Me? I’m a wreck. I’ve been friends with Emerson ever since she became CeCe’s roommate at Stanford when we were eighteen. She speaks at big events and is calm as a cucumber. Last night, they had us walk up and down the aisle a dozen times each to make sure we had the proper pace. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk down an aisle without thinking of Tina and her directions.

  Sara’s lined up, and she turns to me. “I think I more nervous than Emerson.”

  I mouth, “I know.” My stomach is tight, and my nerves make me want to vomit.
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  I watch Sara as she’s sent down the aisle. Greer’s ready to go next. And before I realize it, she’s gone and it’s my turn. A thousand people look like ten thousand people to me. As I stand at the threshold of the church, I take a few breaths and say a small prayer that I don’t stumble as I walk or that one of my breasts doesn’t break free of my dress. I can hardly move, but then I feel a slight shove from behind. There are so many people in the church—standing room along the edges and the back of the church is all that is left. Every eye in the church is on me, my heart is racing, and I move. One foot in front of the other, I follow the beat like we were taught at the rehearsal.

  I spot Cameron, and he beams at me. It should make me embarrassed, but it’s almost as if telepathically he’s talking to me, and I can ignore all the people and my fear of falling on my face. I immediately calm down and smile. Thankfully he doesn’t break eye contact. I take a big breath when I arrive at the spot where I move to the left to stand in my appropriate place.

  I didn’t fall, and no exposed breast or nipples. Thank God!

  I’m so nervous I don’t notice CeCe as she walks up until she grasps my hand and gives me an assuring squeeze. The music changes to “A Midsummer Night's Dream: Wedding March.” The entire church stands and watches Emerson make her grand entrance. The moment is perfect. Even with her veil, her smile lights up the room. Despite looking at the back of everyone’s heads, I can hear the sniffles and see people dotting their faces with tissues. Dillon’s standing tall and still a bit white, but when he sees Emerson, he visibly relaxes, his eyes sparkle, and his lips begin to curl. He appears so happy with a grin from ear to ear.

  Emerson is stunning standing with her father next to her. I love weddings, and my eyes begin to water, but my makeup isn’t waterproof, so I fight it. The crowd gives a collective “Ahh” and she proceeds, her eyes locked with Dillon. Both are smiling wide as she joins him. Her father moves the veil from her face and says something to Dillon, and he nods and shakes her father’s hand.