Текст книги "RIVALS: Part One "

Автор книги: Ella Adams

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RIVALS

PART ONE

Ella Adams

Contents

Copyright

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

About the Author

Copyright © Ella Adams 2015

The right of Ella Adams to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. You must not circulate this book in any format.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

1

It was a harsh change in environment and I didn’t know how I would deal with it. Lots of people said I would fail, but that only made me more determined. I accepted a job as an event coordinator for a very prominent event company. This meant I had to move to New York City.

I lived in sunny Miami, and I loved the water and the sun, so it was a very drastic change indeed. But it was a change I desperately needed. I was an adventurer at heart so I was excited for a new opportunity.

A few weeks ago I finally took the leap and applied for a job as an events coordinator. I didn’t think I would get it, but I did. I was excited but nervous too. The work didn’t seem that hard because I was trained well and I was feeling very determined to make something happen in my life.

I needed to break out of the humdrum and take chances. New York seemed like a good place to make that happen.

I was a month into my new event-coordinating job and tonight’s event was for my first client. It was a fundraising bash with an A-list guest list and a very large budget. I had spent the last week transforming this raw Chelsea art gallery space into a festive party environment. I had chosen an indoor forest theme with wild flowers and sprawling twigs and trees. I knew New York’s elite were used to the more elegant white roses and garlands with sleek modern touches, so I wanted to do the opposite. I wanted to make them feel like they were in the woodlands. For my first event I had to make a splash, take chances and really make a name for myself.

“Eva, where do you want the sunflower bouquets?” Sara asked. She was my new assistant.

“All along the back wall. I want it to be flooded with sunflowers. In that area only and nowhere else, okay?” I replied.

“Got it.”

In just a few hours this event would be officially kicking off and I was proud and confidant that everything was going as scheduled. Crates of champagne came in through the front door and I directed them to the makeshift office and storage room in the back of the gallery.

Catering would be arriving two hours before the event started, but no one was around yet from that team to deal with the drinks.

A few hours later we were almost done. I left some minor things to my assistant and rushed home to shower and change.

I brushed out my long dark brown locks and piled them high on my head in a messy tousled bun. Dark mascara framed my brown eyes and red lipstick was the perfect shade for my all-black outfit. Dressing for this job was not easy. You needed to look elegant at the events, but you didn’t want to outshine the attendees, and you also wanted to look professional.

I found that a little black dress and some sparkling diamond earrings typically did the trick. The dress hugged my curves in an elegant way that was not too tight. I wore opaque black stockings and patent leather kitten heels. There, I was done.

The event would be starting in two hours so I rushed back to see to catering and the finishing touches. I was nervous.

When the evening was fully under way I was able to relax a little more. Now it was just a matter of keeping an eye on things. I walked around taking in all the glamorous wealthy guests and eavesdropping anytime I heard them talk about how the space was decorated. Everyone seemed to be pleased and I hid a smile as I floated around the room trying to be a fly on the wall.

Until something caught my eye, and my breath.

He wore a dark suit with the confidence and style of a man who was used to being worshipped. I stared at him from across the room and walked slowly towards him with out even realizing it. This man was like a magnet. He was talking to a beautiful woman, a model possibly. His smile was vibrant and he spoke with passion in his voice. His lips were moist and soft and he licked them a few times during his conversation. Unbidden, I suddenly imagined that tongue and those lips on my body. The thought made me feel flushed, not to mention unnerved. His bright blue eyes and thick blonde hair were a striking combination.

I stopped and hid behind a sculpture to get a better look without being noticed. I watched as he moved and dominated the room with his presence. He made eye contact with people and smiled; this man knew the effect he had on women, and he owned it.

“Eva? What are you doing?” My assistant asked suddenly. She held a tray with champagne glasses.

I felt silly. “Nothing, just looking at this … piece.” I said distractedly pointing to the sculpture in front of me. “Does it seem crooked?”

“Not that I can see. But we’re almost out of champagne.”

“There’s a case in the office. I’ll grab it.”

I walked down the hallway to the back of the building, unlocked the office and turned on the lights. I sat at the desk for a few seconds just to give my feet a rest, and once again my thoughts strayed to the gorgeous man at the party.

I was deep in contemplation when I heard someone clear their throat at the doorway. I looked over to see him; the gorgeous man I had been thinking about, leaning against the doorway.

I jumped out of my seat, “Oh, hello. Can I help you?”

“Absolutely. That is if you want to,” he said. His voice was deep and gravelly and it resonated through the office. I immediately felt aroused by it and desire instinctively welled up inside me. Then he continued, a slight smile playing about his lips. “You know, I don’t normally do this.”

“Come to a fundraiser?” I asked. I felt silly the moment the words left my mouth.

“Come to a fundraiser and seduce a sexy woman,” he responded, and my heart skipped a beat.

I stared up at him in disbelief. He was tall, very tall, at least 6’4 and as I was barely only five feet, he towered above me. Was he seriously hitting on me? My pulse raced through my body at the very idea.

“What are you talking about?” I swallowed hard.

“I assume you’ll be discreet…” he went on with the arrogance of a handsome wealthy man used to getting exactly what he wanted whenever he wanted it. Despite myself, I was aroused even more.

He walked across the room and stopped inches away from my body. The energy between us was magnetic and I could sense that it was building up to something. Something unstoppable, like a moving train.

I wanted to reach out and touch him; the temptation was unbearable. He turned toward the doorway to make sure no one was around and then leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Can I trust you to be discreet?”

His breath felt hot in my ear and sent my head spinning. Maybe it was from the champagne, or maybe it was from his masculine scent filling the air around me. I felt like I might have to hold onto the desk in order to keep my balance.

“Discreet?” I repeated.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” He grinned in amusement.

He was so arrogant it drove me crazy – in many different ways. I looked up at him and tried to regain my composure.

“Discreet? Meaning you want me to sleep with you?”

He froze and said nothing. He looked at me up and down and I felt like I was being judged by his vibrant blue eyes. Then he started laughing. I immediately felt mortified. Why did I just say that? I’m sure that my face was bright red now.

“Well if you’re offering. But actually, I was talking about a guest here tonight. I was hoping you could give me her number or some way to contact her. She already left the party.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. “That’s …what you meant by discreet?” I barely got the words out in my extreme embarrassment.

“I know it’s probably against the rules to get that information from you, but I thought you could be discreet about it. Bend the rules just a little, for me?” He grinned again. I’m sure he’d never had a woman say no to him in his entire life.

“Oh, I see.”

“Yes, she’s mysterious, talented, and stunning. Just my type.”

He was toying with me; I could tell and I looked at the ground, feeling so stupid for making such an assumption. Why did I think that way in the first place? How on earth could I automatically assume this man wanted to have sex with me?

Look at him. He could have any woman on the planet.

“She was absolutely captivating, and seemed to possess a quality that I can’t put my finger on.”

I’d had enough. Each word he spoke lowered my self-esteem even further and I needed to get away.

“OK then, if I do know this woman and I give you her number, promise not to say where you got it?” I asked him while shuffling through my contact book on my desk. “Her name?”

“Absolute discretion of course. Her name is Rose Brant.” He said with that arrogant grin.

I quickly jotted the woman’s number down on a piece of paper and handed it to him, but he didn’t take it.

He paused and looked me over once more with hooded eyes. “Put it in my pocket, will you?”

I looked up at him, for a sign that he was kidding. That dashing grin was gone. He was being serious.

“I’m not going to do that.” I said, taking a step backwards.

He chuckled again. It was something that was starting to make me uncomfortable with every second.

Then he grabbed the paper, pulling it slowly out of my hand then reached into his pocket, going deep.

“Thank you.”

He turned and walked out and I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he was gone.

But I spent the entire night thinking about him.

2

After some creative guest-list sleuthing, I could not account for the mysterious man in front of whom I’d humiliated myself.

Who was he? As far as the guest list went, he was not on it.

Therefore I could only assume he’d accompanied an invited attendee. It was driving me crazy to not know who he was. He had begun to occupy not only my thoughts but also my dreams, which had turned incredibly sensual and decidedly erotic.

As for New York, I was settling in nicely. It was late January and the white beauty of snowfall had graced the city. The tourists from the holiday season had vacated and we residents once again had the city to ourselves.

I was co-ordinating another event and decided to use the same Chelsea art gallery from before. Since the last party was such a success, it seemed like a good decision. There was currently an exhibit in the space, which meant I had to work with the color scheme already in place, but I considered it a challenge.

I once again made a makeshift office in the back and had the keys to the gallery. It was late by the time I finished my preparations and I decided it was time to finish up for the night.

I walked to the front door and put the key in the lock when I heard, “Are you locking me in?”

Instantly recognising the gravelly voice, I turned to see him standing in the gallery. I was shocked and startled. I didn’t know anyone was there, and he was the last person I expected.

“What are you doing here?” I asked nervously.

“I came for something I like.” He grinned at me, doing that thing where he looks at me up and down. My body flushed with excitement.

“What?” I asked, and in my nervousness I dropped the keys from my hand.

He walked slowly toward me and I could feel my breathing getting heavier as he glided confidently across the room.

When he bent fluidly down to the floor and picked up the keys, he looked at my feet and let his gaze linger. Then he rose slowly and his gaze followed. It went from my feet all the way up my body until he was standing up straight. He towered over me and I looked up at him with what I knew was naked desire in my eyes. The amount of lust I had for this man right then was terrifying.

He handed me the keys and said, “So is it too late?”

My heart pumped louder and I was sure he could hear it. “For what?” I asked.

He raised one eyebrow at me. “To get the piece I want?”

I was confused, but his close proximity to me was interrupting my clarity. I stood in silence until he said, “I really like the blue-colored one over there.”

He stepped away from me and went to look at a painting on the wall.

Of course, I thought, feeling like stupid once again.

This was an art gallery after all, and for all he knew, I worked here.

Man, I was an idiot.

“Well, I actually don’t work here, but if you’d like to buy it I can put you in touch with the gallery director.”

He looked at me in surprise. “You don’t? But you were closing up… and were in the back office the last time I was here. So I don’t understand.”

“Actually I’m an event coordinator. I produced the other fundraiser here, the one you attended and I’m doing another here next week, which is why I have the keys.”

“I see.”

He was silent as he stared at me.

I started fidgeting because it was an awkward moment of silence. I didn’t know what he was thinking. He was obviously processing something. I didn’t want to add in anything else. I always seemed to make a fool of myself when I opened my mouth around him, so it was better that I kept it closed.

“You co-ordinated the last fundraiser?” he asked. “The one with the rustic flowers and woodland?”

“Yes, everything. The way the event flowed and unfolded. That was all me.”

“That was a magnificent event. Very energetic. Lots of donations,” he commented quietly.

“Yes,” I replied with a confused look. I couldn’t tell what I was reading off him. Was he amazed that I could be behind something so epic? And how did he know how many donations had been made?

“You know, I’m in need of an event coordinator for something soon. I’ve hired a few, but I’m never happy with their work. It’s not inspiring. Not like yours.”

“Well thanks but I am fully booked with the company I work for…”

He swatted my reply away as if it were a pesky fly.

“My company holds many fundraising events throughout the year, so you would be gainfully employed if you choose to come work for me. The event I’m thinking about is very soon, in a few weeks as a matter of fact, so there’s not a lot of time to pull it together. Tell me, have you ever been to Carnivale in Venice?”

“You mean Venice, Italy? No, I have not, but I’ve always wanted to – ”

“Yes, Venice Italy. And yet another reason you should work for me. This event is a huge masquerade ball during carnival season in the city. We already have a palazzo space overlooking a canal and a caterer in place. However, the theme and décor is not set, nor activities, or other things that would make the elite want to come. That’s where you would come in.”

It all sounded so grand, like, a dream. A dream job of being able to mix event coordinating and travel to exotic places. With him.

“Here are two of my cards. One for the gallery director for the artwork, and the other is for you to hold on to. In case you change your mind.”

Then, just as smoothly as he had appeared, he was gone.

I stood in the empty gallery alone with a new exciting path beckoning. Urging me to leave the safety of a stable environment and embark on a new and unpredictable journey alongside a man I had been dreaming about.

A man whose name I did not even know.

I looked down at the card. It simply read “Clay Roth” with a phone number and an email address. That was it.

It was a typically mysterious business card for a very mysterious man.

3

Exactly two days later I found myself calling the number.

I felt guilty for wanting to leave my new job for one that was bound to be unpredictable, but the prospect of visiting Venice was too good to pass up.

How many people get to design and coordinate a masquerade ball in Venice, Italy? I had to do it.

Not to mention that I couldn’t stop thinking about Clay Roth.

I worked myself into a bundle of nerves when I picked up the phone to call him. I knew hearing his voice would have an instant aphrodisiac effect on me.

Though in the end I didn’t even have to worry, because he didn’t answer the phone. I left a message with a woman, his secretary I assumed or assistant. After a day or so I was starting to doubt that his offer was genuine.

Then I finally got a return call. The woman gave me a Long Island address and an appointment with Clay for the following day.

I sighed in relief after I hung up the phone. However this was short lived when I realized I needed to now find the perfect outfit to wear. I spent the rest of the night trying on every outfit in my closet.

The next day I headed out to Long Island. I was surprised that Clay was located so far outside the city. I assumed he would have owned some swanky penthouse overlooking the park.

The cab driver pulled up to the address the woman had given me and I immediately thought the driver had it wrong when he stopped in front of a set of massive gates.

I hit the intercom and nervously told the person that answered that I had an appointment with Mr Roth. The gates opened immediately so I guess I did have the right place.

The cab pulled in and my mouth dropped at the sight before me. A large historic and Gatsbyesque house stood on the property. My first thought was that this must be the office for whatever foundation or philanthropic organization Mr. Roth worked for.

It must be because no one could afford to live in a palatial house like this. I paid the cab and walked to the massive front doors, then pulled on the old retro doorbell cord hanging to the side of the doorframe.

Was this real?

A maid answered the door and let me into the atrium. She didn’t speak and quickly walked off. I was alone in a vast hall. I looked around and knew that it was indeed a living space and not an office of any sort.

The butterflies in my stomach tripled as I realized that Clay Roth must be very wealthy indeed, a billionaire. I began to fidget again. It was unusual that I wasn’t shown to some sort of sitting room to wait.

Instead I just stood there. The atrium had a white marble floor that led to a grand staircase in the back. The wood banisters were elegantly carved and there was an art deco theme throughout.

I gazed up the staircase as it led to a gallery that overlooked the atrium. There he was, standing there staring down at me.

I felt small as he looked at me from his place up high. Like I was a courtier visiting a king in his castle.

“Eva, I’m glad you came,” Clay said as he descended the stairs.

“Thank you for having me,” I replied. I tried to keep my eyes on his face instead of letting them go up and down his long lean body. I had to remember I was here for business.

If I kept repeating that in my mind than I hoped I would believe it.

He was the perfect specimen of a human being. He walked towards me and I would have felt nervous if I had any sense of controlling my own mind.

My blood felt like it was boiling in my veins as I became hot, flushed, and incredibly turned on by his mere presence. I wanted nothing more than to surrender myself to him.

This was dangerous.

4

I followed him through the large house, entering and exiting one cavernous room after another.

We exited through the back of the house and out onto a large portico. There was a table set with an elegant lunch.

I tried to keep my mouth closed, as I wanted to gape at the vast gardens and enormous fountain that was so beautifully landscaped.

We sat at the table and I tried not to stumble over my words. Clay started to tell me about the fundraiser, but I was having a hard time focusing. None of this made sense to me.

Was he one of those billionaire philanthropists?

I quickly learned that he’d created a charity dedicated to donating money to help fix the problems of the earth.

It ranged from helping animals in the Arctic to cleaning up oil spills in the ocean. Basically anything that concerned the environment, his charity tried to help. It was called, “The Green Cause.”

All tickets to attend the masquerade ball, which ranged in the thousands of dollars would go toward the charity. It all sounded very grand.

However, I couldn’t gauge the other vibes Clay was sending me. The awkward pauses, and the way he looked at me made me feel like I was here for something else entirely.

“Your gardens are just lovely,” I said after the business side of things came to an end.

Clay smiled with a knowing grin. “Would you like to take a walk through them?”

“Sure, that would be nice.”

He stood up and put his hand out. I placed mine in his and he helped me to my feet. His skin touching mine sent fire through me. It went from my hand, up my arm, and into my body and spirit. I had to remind myself to breathe.

We walked the steps down the portico and onto the path that lead deep into the gardens.

We didn’t talk. I felt so incredibly awkward and nervous.

The garden was dense and lush and I was astonished by the abundance of life. I was deep in this thought and the beautiful surroundings when suddenly Clay grabbed my arm and pulled me to him.

“I’ve wanted to do this since that first night we met, when I pretended I wanted that number.”

I was caught off guard and stumbled my way into his chest. He looked down at me and I breathed in his scent. It was intoxicating. Within seconds his lips were on mine. My breath caught in my throat.

Realising that he had indeed been coming onto that first night, I felt myself becoming wet with just the proximity of his body.

My lips parted and his tongue gently brushed against mine. I moaned and he pressed firmer against my mouth. He pushed more until I was going backwards with his arm around my waist gently guiding me.

Soon I was pressed against a brick-lined garden wall that was about waist high.

Clay put both of his hands on my waist, picked me up and sat me down on top of the wall. His hand slid under my sweater and traced delicately over my belly. He went further up until his hand was covering my bare breast. His fingers pinched my nipple and it became instantly hard in his hand.

I was breathing heavily yet felt breathless at the same time. He moved his lips down my body and covered my breast with his mouth. He lightly sucked on the tip of my nipple and swirled his tongue around it.

I arched my back reacting to his licking and kissing. I felt I was already on the verge of an orgasm and he had not yet touched my already wet center.

I was consumed by the affect he was having on me.

He pulled my sweater off over my head. I was topless, no bra, in the middle of this secluded path in his garden. It was exciting and the thought that we could get caught any second was doubly thrilling.

Though I didn’t know what was happening. I knew that this was wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this. I was about to become his employee, and right away I was breaking all the rules of professionalism.

But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I had thought about this moment for so long that the desire in me was now overpowering all rational thought. I pressed my hand against his hard chest.

He was solid and I could feel the ripple of his toned chest under my hand. I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. His six-pack abs and strong shoulders were lightly sun-kissed and I let my hands roam over them.

I couldn’t stand it anymore; I needed him inside me.

He must have read my thoughts because he placed soft kisses on my belly and went lower.

I tensed up and Clay’s hand grabbed my thigh and squeezed it aggressively. This translated to me as a lustful desire that he too had pent up inside of him, as if it been waiting to burst out of him, and that made me feel good.

Clearly we were on the same level of wanting each other.

His hand moved up my thigh past my black thigh high stockings. My skirt pushed up along with the movement and his long fingers reached my panties. He pushed them aside exposing my warm flesh. With one swift movement his head was between my thighs and his tongue licked my crevice. I yelled out.

It was obvious that he was skilled. His tongue flicked against my clitoris. I could barely stand it. It was too perfect and just right all at the same time. I whispered his name, “Clay. Oh God. Yes.”

That must have been a trigger because suddenly he stopped. By the abruptness I could tell that he didn’t stop because he was going to move to another part of my body, but because something was wrong.

I opened my eyes. I was still propped on the wall with my skirt hiked up. He was standing a foot or two away from me on the path. He stared at me, his face impossible to read.

“What is it?” I asked my voice shaking with vulnerability.

Clay said nothing. He walked back to me, pulled my skirt back into place and handed me my sweater.

He picked me up off the wall and set me gently on my feet then said, “I’m sorry Eva. This is wrong. I just couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted you since that time at the party, but I thought it would pass. I should go.”

Then he walked away from me.

I stood there with my mouth agape. Was this really happening? He was leaving me here alone in his garden after we’d just shared an intimate moment together? It was absurd, and wrong, not to mention embarrassing.

I fought back tears of rejection. I needed to keep it together. I could cry about it later.

He stopped, turned slightly and said, “My assistant will email you all the documents to get started on the fundraiser in Italy.”

Then he continued walking away. He turned down another path and was out of sight.

I quickly pulled my sweater back on and brushed my hair into place. I felt mortified. To top it off he still expected me to work for him? I walked quickly toward the main house. I needed to get out of there.

I walked up the stairs to the larger portico veranda where the maid was waiting for me. She quietly said, “There’s a cab outside for you Ms. I will get your coat for you. Follow me.”

I glued my eyes to the floor and followed her to the front door. Within minutes I was in a cab fighting back tears on my way back into the city.

So many thoughts flooded my head. I didn’t know why he’d stopped like that. He said it was wrong, which I agreed with; it was never a good idea to mix pleasure and business.

However, I really doubted it was his first time doing that. He was obviously a playboy billionaire, and they usually did whatever they wanted with whomever they pleased.

I should have known better.