Reclaimed

by Marcella Swann

  The business partner that he had was less of a business partner and more of an investor. Elliot had never been one for premonitions, but he knew when he woke the morning he would meet his investor that something was about to change. What he didn’t realize was that his father had never truly gone to prison. What he would've never guessed was that his father was more than just a snake, he was the shadowy entity that morality stories mentioned when they needed a devil. The man that approached Elliot with an offer of investment was his biological father, the man that raised him, pushed him through school and forced him into an internship, but Elliot couldn’t recognize his face after his crimes were brought to light. Elliot could only look at him as the investor, and it almost hurt more that Mr. Dowling was alright with that from the beginning.

  The investor was not interested in the daily comings and goings, but he was interested in the pay out that funding Elliot would bring. Elliot started with a logistics firm; he routed trucks for companies that he knew paid back to the investor at first, but he sold his services quickly to others to increase profits. Once it was attainable, Elliot bought a freight brokerage that pulled him into the shipping game. His deliveries were legitimate, but half of them were tainted by the investor’s influence.

  Elliot grew tired of the import and export business, so he played it backwards to double his profits before selling the company for an immense profit and moving onto something else. With each business he started, there was one recurring, profitable client: the investor. Those dollars were false, and Elliot didn’t even consider them substantial as he grew his client lists rapidly, despite the risks and his own shortcomings.

  A tragic start but his money was flowing, Elliot had not done anything illegal, and even if he had facilitated some actions that were illegal, ignorance was his best defense. He had no idea what the investor was moving, and he never wanted to find out. Those rice sacks from Mexico, the crated furniture from the Baltic States, and the ornamental art from the Far East would remain in Elliot’s knowledge as just that. The investment was returned, the bill was paid between Elliot and his investor. However, despite his best intentions, Elliot could not keep his hands clean for long.

  Elliot had always been known for his temper and he had been in fights before. Somewhere along the way, the stress built up and someone made it painfully clear that he needed an outlet. There was a gym by the apartment he was renting, so Elliot joined up and started boxing to let out some steam. He was quick, he hit hard, and eventually he found himself in the ring with a local bruiser. It was a rough victory, but it was a victory for Elliot nonetheless. In the last round of the bout, Elliot had lost control and done more than just knock his opponent out. With three quick, unnecessary jabs, Elliot broke a nose, a cheekbone, and an eye socket. His opponent didn’t get up for a few minutes, and when he came to he was screaming in pain.

  Elliot apologized, gave the unofficial cornerman his contact information to pay for medical expenses, and then withdrew from the gym and knew he would never be able to go back. If it had ended then, and Elliot wished that it did, Samira would have nothing to hold against him. However, the man he broke needed facial reconstruction and instead of going through a lawyer to get restitution, he used the contact information that Elliot handed over willingly to lure him into an alley.

  It was bloody, and Elliot ended up with a broken arm and several life-threatening lacerations, but he had at least walked away. The temper he had been bottling in, the temper that blew up during the boxing match, came out full force. Elliot did not even remember what happened, exactly, but he knew that three men jumped him in an alley and he was the only one to walk out. They had all lived, but Elliot had done irreparable damage to them like it was nothing. There had been a gun, Elliot had almost used it to finish things, but something pulled him back. Instead, he called the one person that could really help him: he called his investor and was pulled back into one last deal.

  The price for cleaning up Elliot’s mess, for putting him back on the path to billions without the hindrance of three critically injured men to ruin things for him, was a new shipping platform. Something untouchable, something preexisting. Elliot had accepted the cost without hesitation, and as he told Samira about it in his loft, he knew that she recognized what he was saying. Maybe she had known something was wrong with Exotic Antiques, or maybe she was just that intelligent. Either way, when Elliot admitted to using his access as a shareholder to pull critical information from Foster Acquisitions’ servers and pass it over to his investor, she was not caught off guard at all.

  The pain in her eyes was as real as a knife pressing into his heart. She didn’t say a word in reply. Instead she stood from the bar and finished her third drink since they’d sat down. Taking Elliot by the hand, Samira led him out onto the balcony. It was the view of a lifetime, everything he had ever worked for within his grasp. Samira, the Financial Quarter, the Market District. Though now that he was here, Samira was the only thing that mattered.

  She let go of his hand and spun. The hem of her skirt fluttered up with the wind. As her twirl ended, Samira took his arms and wrapped them around her waist so that he was holding her from behind, tight as can be while she leaned slightly over the railing. “What do you see?”

  “Everything I lost when I was young.”

  Samira’s body was pressed back into his. Her warmth made the chill of the wind nothing more than something tossing her hair lightly. “Do you know what I see?”

  “A city?”

  Samira’s laugh was soft, like a distant echo of pure joy. Her voice was as smooth as silk and as sweet as honey as she replied, “Nothing. I don’t see anything out there, Ell, because you are everything to me. More important than any company, every deal, every dollar. If I lost all of this, but had you, I wouldn’t flinch.”

  Elliot’s hands slid down to her hips, and underneath his fingertips her body was electric as those same hips he held started to grind back against him slightly. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “What does that mean, Sam?”

  Her hand lifted up and grabbed him by the neck as she pulled him closer. “It means I don’t care what you did. I don’t care what you had to do to get back to me. I only care that you’ve made it back.”

  Her hips were grinding harder against him. Elliot felt tense pleasure as the erection formed against the barrier of his pants. His fingers found the hem of Samira’s skirt and pulled it up. Her hand fell from his neck and latched tight onto the railing in front of her. Elliot bit the lobe of her ear gently before whispering, “This isn’t just sex. You have more than my body; my heart is yours forever.”

  One of Samira’s hands left the railing and unzipped Elliot’s pants. “No matter what?”

  Elliot gasped as her cold fingers pulled his cock from his boxers and out of his fly. He pulled her panties to the side as she guided him closer. His left foot moved hers further out, lowering her pussy down closer to his cock. She hesitated as their flesh touched slightly. Elliot kissed her neck. “I will never leave you alone again.”

  Her voice was thick with desire. “Promise me.”

  “Samira, I promise to be by your side no matter what comes our way.”

  She leaned back into him as his cock slid right into her entrance. A moan escaped her lips and then Samira clutched the railing with both hands. “Good, because I need you.”

  “Do you?” Elliot asked as he slowly slid further into her but then pulled back slightly.

  “I do…” Samira shuddered in pleasure as he began to slowly press back into her.

  “How badly?” Elliot fought against his own lust to keep the pace slow and keep his penetration shallow.

  Samira swore. “So badly that if you don’t start doing more than those teasing strokes, I’ll show you how fucking badly.”

  Elliot slowed to a stop with only the tip of his cock left in her. He knew as soon as she said the words that it was a challenge and an offer, but Elliot just smiled and dug his fingers into her hips. “Th
en show me.”

  Samira steadied herself on the railing before thrusting her hips backward, taking Elliot’s full length into her pussy as far as it would go. She clenched her jaw, not giving him the satisfaction of the moan that threatened to escape as she pulled her hips away just slightly before slamming back down on his cock. It was an awkward and forceful fuck, but Elliot could tell how badly Samira wanted him. He grabbed her by the waist, still buried fully within her, and spun them both around so that her chest was laid down on the balcony table. He lost track of everything, stopped holding his lust back and gave her everything that he had.

  As they made love on the table out in the air of the balcony, Elliot couldn’t stand the clothes still separating them. He unzipped her skirt while ramming into her and let it fall to the ground. He tore her panties with a swift pull, bringing a soft yelp from Samira’s throat as he pulled almost all the way out of her. He pulled his shirt overhead before slamming back into her and he watched her squirm and struggle to unbutton her blouse as he fucked her on the table. Elliot grabbed Samira by the leg and rolled her so that she was on her back. Before she could try the buttons again, he buried his cock deep in her pussy and pulled hard on both of her shirttails. The buttons snapped off into the air. Samira pushed his hands away lightly and reached down to return the favor by popping the button off his pants and letting them fall to the ground.

  With just his boxers and her bra left, Elliot hooked a finger on the wire harness of her bra just between her breasts and pulled her up to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling his cock back deep into her pussy. Elliot picked her up by her firm ass and carried her back into the loft. They reached a new level of ecstasy now that Elliot had lowered his walls and fully let Samira into his soul.

  It wasn’t something that words could describe perfectly, but it was something etched into their hearts as they collapsed naked into bed hours later. They were fully spent, and as Elliot drifted off to sleep, his thoughts shifted from his own to theirs as he dreamed of the life they would share. It was a peaceful life; there were no internal stressors, they were lockstep as they navigated the path before them. No part of Elliot’s consciousness worried that something would tear them apart, and when they woke in the morning, he knew that Samira felt the same. As Elliot tried to rouse himself fully, Samira pulled him back into bed and kissed him. She smiled devilishly and said, “Can’t we stay just a little longer?”

  Elliot bit his lip, knowing that if he gave in now, they might never get out of bed. “What would we do if we stayed in bed? I don’t think I can sleep anymore.”

  Samira’s hand wrapped around his cock and started to massage it. “Not yet, but you will be able to when I’m done.”

  Fully convinced, Elliot laid back into the bed and they stayed there for the rest of the day.

  Epilogue

  Samira Dowling set the pen down and with that action dissolved Dowling Holdings into Foster Acquisitions as she signed Elliot Dowling, her husband, on as a Chief Operating Officer. It was a deal a year in the making, only slowed down by the stacks of legal paperwork, the weeks it took to plan their wedding in the park, and the two months they spent honeymooning across the European countryside. Everyone always said the same thing about working with your spouse; Samira had seen it take its toll on many relationships throughout her life. That was a part of why Samira was stepping down as CEO of Foster Acquisitions and taking up the mantle of the Foster Acquisitions supported charity: Down Funded.

  It was a silly name, a play on their surnames, but it stuck in Samira’s head and it was the only thing she would accept as the name of their charity. The focus was not set in stone yet, but it would be Samira’s mission to find the next best thing, held back by bureaucratic thresholds and financial roadblocks. It would be her mission to help that technology become readily available. Avoiding working neck and neck with Elliot was part of the reason why she stepped down as CEO; even though a full year had passed now, she still couldn’t sit in the same room as him without being drawn into his eyes and losing the world around her. The biggest reason for the charity was that it was her dream, her joy, and Elliot made it painfully obvious that he would not do anything until she was truly doing what she wanted.

  He was built for the boardroom; he could focus for hours as long as she wasn’t there distracting him, but Samira, on the other hand, was more industrious than that. She need the adventure and excitement that she couldn’t find in the boardroom. Plus, with thoughts of adding another member to their family, Samira wanted the option of stepping away from the public eye if pregnancy became a reality.

  They moved to the country, where they had spent time together as children, and found that nothing had changed. Work was done as easily over the phone and through video conferences as it was in person, and the rare trips that required an in person visit, they made together. It was true that Elliot was not the same Elliot she knew when she was younger, but Samira slowly realized that she was not the same either. It was fate that the newer selves they became fit together just as perfectly as the children they had been.

  The days turned into weeks, which turned into months. The months turned into seasons, which turned into years. The Dowling family of two became three when John Dowling was born a healthy baby within the comfort of their own home. The family grew again, but only with the faithful addition of man’s best friend. To be more specific, Speckle, the wolfhound, was baby’s best friend and couldn’t care less about Elliot and Samira outside of feeding time, but that was alright with them.

  As the years passed, Down Funded grew to a point at which they were not beholden to Foster Acquisitions and Elliot turned in his resignation. Foster Acquisitions turned into Ascent Acquisitions, with Samira and Elliot remaining majority shareholders from a distance. A generous offer was made to buy them out, and while Samira sold off her fifty-two percent share of the company, Elliot held on to the thirteen percent he had talked his way into. Corporate giants rose and fell around them, but even as they slipped away from society to live off their billions and improve the lives of others through charity, Elliot and Samira had each other until the end of their days.

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  Chapter One

  Gigi

  Gigi Stevens had never seen a party so over-the-top gonzo.

  Palm trees, jungle vines swinging from the ceiling, and animatronic dinosaurs so large and lifelike they could be used in the next Jurassic Park film. If the DJ’s steady assault of concussive beats weren’t enough to elevate Gigi’s heart rate, then the sight of velociraptors and a roaming T-Rex most certainly were.

  Granted, since moving to San Francisco she’d attended only a few of the tech industry’s notorious gatherings, thrown by nouveau riche code nerds who’d hit it big with apps or games or search engines, socially awkward guys who might chronologically be pushing thirty, but who were emotionally still scouring the pages of D&D monster manuals in their parents’ basements.

  Tonight’s party was different, however. And the party was different because the man throwing the party was different.

  Damian Black, she thought. Or should I call you by your full name, the one given to you by the tabloids? Damian Black, the Bad Boy Playboy of Silicon Valley.

  “Georgina!”

  Gigi whirled in the direction of the shout. Speaking of full names, she thought.

  Judy Mixson was making her way through the throng, holding champagne flutes hi
gh in each hand, trying not to spill their golden contents. When she finally reached Gigi, she handed her a flute and said, loudly, over the music, “A bit of the bubbly, my dear.”

  “Oh God, thank you,” said Gigi. “I need it.” She leaned her head back and downed the champagne in one gulp.

  “Easy there, girl! The night is young and so are you.”

  “I wish I wasn’t,” Gigi said. “It’s one reason why nobody here will take me seriously.” She peered thoughtfully into her empty flute. “Young, fresh out of college—”

  “An Ivy League college,” Judy interjected.

  “Yeah, but it was Brown, and for some damn reason everyone keeps forgetting it’s an Ivy League school. They know Harvard, Yale, and Princeton, and that’s it.”

  “Look here, Georgina: you’re the smartest person in this room and you know it. In the last half-hour, you’ve forgotten more about coding and techy stuff than everyone else in here will learn over the next ten years. And look at you, girl, you’re totally—”

  “Don’t say ‘hot.’ You know I’m not even remotely.”

  “Actually, I was going to say—”

  “And don’t say ‘cute.’ You know how much I hate hearing that.”