by Alana Jade
The Serendipity Duet Book 1
Alana Jade
The Right Place
The Serendipity Duet Book 1
Alana Jade
Copyright 2020 Alana Jade
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.
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ISBN: 978-0-6483628-2-1
Editing by Kay Swish Design & Editing
Proofreading by Nicki Swish Design & Editing
Book design by Swish Design & Editing
Cover design by Sarah Paige at Opium House Creatives
Cover Image Copyright 2020
All rights reserved
They say things happen at the right time.
But what if you’re in the right place, and things don’t go to plan?
Like the fact my mentor, the man I look up to, aspire to be like, passed away leaving me in charge. A billion-dollar company I need to keep going. I may seem like I have everything together, that money and business are all I care about, but I know if I found that perfect woman, I would make time to fit her into my now hectic lifestyle.
Again, they say things happen at the right time.
Like the fact my mentor’s daughter happened to be at the same coffee shop parking lot as me this morning. I haven’t seen her for years, but she’s even more stunning than I remember. Unfortunately, she’s down on her luck and completely immune to my charms.
Is it possible I’ve found ‘the one’? Or will my feelings get in the way of everything my mentor and I have built from the ground up?
This book is dedicated to friends.
Friends are like stars. We don’t have to see them to know they’re always there.
Blurb
Dedication
Table of 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
More Books To Check Out
Acknowledgments
Connect With Me Online
About the Author
Adam
Sitting at a red light, the flashing roadwork lights ahead make me roll my eyes with a groan. I’m not one to normally make sudden changes to my daily routine, but I’m not going to sit in this kind of traffic for the foreseeable future—it will drive me insane. I can see my favorite café from here, but there’ll be no parking available with the road partially closed off.
Flicking my indicator, I check to see no cars are entering the turn lane, making a quick dash down the side street to head to another coffee shop for my morning caffeine hit. Luckily, it’s not much further out of the way. You can practically get a coffee on every corner in this busy town, but there are only a few places who make a really good cup.
Pulling my black Lexus into the parking lot across the street from Mack’s Coffee, I quickly check my watch. Damn, if I don’t hightail it, I’m going to be late.
I’m a stickler for time. As the CEO of EG Enterprises, I need to set an example for my employees. So, I’m always on time, usually early. I have my finger in everything to do with the company while trying to attend every boardroom meeting. From a great man, I inherited this company while he not only showed me everything about this industry but mentored me from the moment he decided to help me out of my desperate situation at a very difficult time in my life. Having lost my father to a heart attack in my final year of school, I drank to dull my pain, but even when it subsided, the drinking continued.
Ed Geller was the father figure who replaced my own. By the time I was twenty-five, I was second- in-charge. He was grooming me to take over.
It was a huge shock to everyone in the company when Ed was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor at age forty-nine. But for me, it was gut-wrenching losing another father. To see this man who I had admired for so many years fading before my eyes, was enough for me to turn back to the bottle to help me forget what was happening around me. The temptation was strong, even after being sober for so many years. I was weak.
The day of Ed’s funeral, I showed up completely drunk. I was meant to be a pallbearer, but I couldn’t even stand up straight. I let him down—I let his daughter down. She was only fifteen or sixteen, I think, when Ed passed, and I should have been the adult who supported her. I’ve never forgiven myself, nor forgotten the look she gave me. It took one glare for me to wake up to myself to realize I needed to continue to lead his company to bigger and better things.
And that’s exactly what I’ve done.
It wasn’t easy, but I’ve been sober for eight years now. Even at corporate events, I don’t touch the stuff. I’m not even tempted if others have it in front of me. But there have been times when I miss the smell or the instant warmth a whiskey can provide. Those times, I call my sponsor immediately.
There is one addiction I can’t shake, though, coffee. I always have two expressos every morning, otherwise, I can’t function at one hundred percent.
Stepping out of my car, I check about, but there’s hardly anyone around. The only other car in the lot is a beaten-up old Toyota with someone sleeping in the front seat. The lack of people suits me fine, though. I know the coffee is good at this place, and it means I’ll get my coffee a lot quicker.
After paying for my coffees—I’ve ordered three this morning—I take in the rather odd view of the city. There’s nothing physically wrong, no trash or mess, and the gardens are well-manicured, but it’s a bit unusual for this time of the day for it to be so quiet. A tree-lined street less than a mile from the central business district should be buzzing. But it’s somewhat peaceful, even though you can occasionally hear the excavators and trucks a short distance away.
A police car pulls into the parking lot where my car is currently parked. I roll my eyes, kicking myself for not checking to see if there were parking restrictions in place. Hopefully, my coffees are ready before he writes me a ticket.
Keeping a close eye on the police car, I notice he doesn’t go anywhere near my car, which makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, though, he’s knocking on the window of the old Toyota. It’s a known fact you can’t pa
rk here overnight, let alone across three parking spaces. I see this often around the city, someone who’s partied a little too hard then parks their car wherever they can to sleep it off.
The barista calls my number while I grin to myself as I’m the only person waiting. Deciding not to be a dickhead this morning, I hand the guy my receipt, collect my coffees, then walk back over to my car.
The police car is driving off, and the woman in the car—who’s left the window open—is now sobbing. I’m not normally one who would get involved, but this girl looks familiar to me. Before I can even process what I’m doing, I’m walking to her car.
“Is everything okay here?” I ask from at least a couple of feet away, not wanting to startle her, but she shrieks anyway trying to wind her car window up as fast as she can, but it doesn’t close all the way.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I apologetically say. I don’t move any closer to her car. Instead, I stand there like an idiot holding a tray with three coffees positioned in it.
The poor girl looks a mess, but I have to admit a very pretty mess. Her hair is twisted on top of her head, and it looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in weeks, although I know that’s a style the girls wear. Her car has trash littered all over the passenger seat as well as the back seat. Pretty sure she’s living in her car as in amongst all that trash, there’s a duffel bag on the back seat.
She stares at me for a good minute.
I try to hold a smile on my face in an attempt to let her know I don’t mean her any harm.
“Here,” I finally say, fishing out a handkerchief from the inside pocket of my suit jacket and offering it to her. She pushes her fingers out of the small opening in the car window while giving me a very forced smile before she quickly cleans her glasses and wipes her eyes. When she’s done, she cups her hand over her mouth, puffing several short breaths before pausing.
Did she seriously do a quick breath check in front of me?
“Thank you,” she mutters. “I really should get a box of tissues for the car.”
“I was getting coffee. I saw the police officer giving you the ticket. Wasn’t very fair of him. I thought it was a parking area. Anyone can park here,” I say, playing dumb about her situation.
“They can. But not how I parked. You can’t park here overnight. That’s what I’ve gotten in trouble for,” she explains.
“Oh,” I mouth, feigning shock. “Did you have a hard night of partying then fall asleep in your car?” I grin, hoping to get her smiling some more. This woman has a pretty mouth even when she’s not using it to beam. She reminds me of someone, but I can’t put my finger on who it is.
“Hardly. I, um, I don’t have anywhere to stay right now,” she sadly replies, looking down at her hands. She continues on, but I can barely hear her through the whispers.
“Sorry, I can’t quite hear what you’re saying. I promise I’m not awful. Here’s my business card.” I push the small square of cardboard through the slot in the window, it’s like posting a letter.
Her eyes grow wide as she reads my card but says nothing.
Perhaps we do know each other?
It’s not like it can be a one-night stand or a fling as I definitely don’t have those. Perhaps she used to work for me in my office.
She unlocks the car door, then quickly pushes it open before swinging her legs around. I watch as she tries to lift herself out of the car but is held back by her seat belt. Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink then, I finally get a glimpse of her broad smile which is definitely worth the wait.
I smirk, then cheekily say, “Always best to take the belt off first.”
She gives me an awkward grin while unbuckling her seat belt, then stands. Taking a step toward her, I reach out to close the car door watching as she then leans against it.
“I’m Adam.” I reach out to shake her hand. I’m expecting her to introduce herself, but she doesn’t say a thing.
“Would you like one of these? They got my order wrong. I ordered espressos, but they’ve given me two expressos plus a flat white. You can take your pick.”
“I couldn’t,” she says, shaking her head while waving her hands back and forth.
“Please. I insist. I normally buy two for myself every morning. Today is a three kind of day. I generally need two strong ones to kick-start my day.”
“The flat white will be great, thanks,” she replies.
I take the cup from the holder, handing it to her as she flashes me another one of her gorgeous smiles. “I’ve been dying for a nice cup of coffee for over a week. I’ve been drinking water from a recycled bottle I found on the floor of my car, which I can fill up for free from the public water fountain.”
“That’s awful. Can’t you stay with your parents or some friends?” I ask.
“They’re the reason I’m out on my ass,” she shoots back quite aggressively before quickly regaining her composure and gives me an apologetic grimace.
Damn! I realize I’ve hit a nerve.
“Thank you, Adam,” she sweetly says before taking a sip. Her eyes light up with the first mouthful, the rich brew making her moan ever so softly. I can instantly tell she’s enjoying the coffee.
I lift the cup to my nose, deeply inhaling. It smells incredible. So rich. Taking a long sip, I let it sit in my mouth a moment to savor the taste while I watch over my cup as she takes another sip. My body’s been craving this for over an hour.
“Enjoying your coffee?” I ask.
“Mmm,” she hums, taking another drink, then another, happily sighing after each mouthful. “It’s exactly what I need, especially after this past week.”
I can tell she’s regretting saying it the second it leaves her mouth.
“So, can I ask… why you slept in your car?” My finger skims around the top of the coffee cup.
“It’s a very long story. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all about my boring life.”
“Try me,” I reply. I’m not prying, but I do feel for the girl. It can’t be an easy choice to take a chance by sleeping in your car.
“The short version is, I was kicked out of a not-very-welcoming-to-start-with home. So, I decided to stay at a hotel until I get on my feet but soon discovered all my money was gone from my credit card. I have no cash either because my bank account was drained. So, I don’t have any choice but to sleep in my car, wherever I can.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m not often lost for words, but I am right now.
She continues, “I’ll never go back to my mother and stepfather’s house. My real father is no longer with us. My dad’s parents have passed, and honestly, my mom’s parents are as cold as she is, not to mention they live on the other side of the country.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It must be hard. What about a job?” I ask, taking another sip of coffee.
“I was working part-time at a local pizza shop, but I was let go last week as they’re closing down,” she explains.
“Wow! You’re having a run of bad luck, aren’t you?”
“I think in some ways, my whole life is a run of bad luck.” She unwraps her messy bun letting her golden hair fall down her back.
“Don’t think like that…” I stop then continue, “… sorry I haven’t caught your name yet,” I blurt out, hoping she’ll be comfortable telling me now.
She laughs. “My name is Georgia.”
I gasp.
I know exactly where she’s from.
“Georgia Geller?”
She slowly nods.
Holy shit! My mentor’s daughter.
How did I not recognize it’s her?
Georgia
It’s taken him long enough to realize who I am. I kind of got the feeling he knew who I was but wasn’t saying it, but going by his surprised facial expression, maybe he didn’t. It has been a long time since we’ve seen each other. He sure has matured into a very handsome man.
After putting my coffee cup on the roof of my car, I fiddle with my hai
r again. It’s my go-to when I’m nervous. Now Adam knows who I am, and I’m incredibly nervous. I know it’s a mess, a tangled heap of mattered filth. Of course, the one thing I forgot to pack before fleeing the house was a hairbrush. My hair hasn’t been washed in over a week, and for that matter, neither have I. I’m sure I smell bad. There’s only so much deodorant and wet wipes can do before even I can smell myself. My teeth haven’t been brushed properly either. All I had was one small tube of toothpaste which was three quarters gone and ran out after a couple of days. I’m not very good at rationing.
I comb my hair out with my fingers before tidying it back up in a bun. Adam’s standing before me smiling, just smiling, and I don’t know what to do.
Do I have something on my face?
Can he smell me?
It’s nice of him to be showing concern, but I’d much prefer he leave me be. I need to work out where the hell I’m going to park my car tonight on next to no gas.
The second he pushed his business card through my car window, I saw the company logo, instantly recognizing it as my father’s. An instant pang of sadness washed over me. He’s been gone for such a long time now, but it never stops hurting. There are days I want to drive to his house, so he can open the door with wonderfully safe arms and wrap them around me as he always used to.
I had the best relationship with my dad.
I’m his only child. My mother never wanted me, but she certainly knew how to use me as a pawn in their divorce proceedings.
After Dad died, I had a trust opened in my name. The good part about this is I can access it in a few months when I turn twenty-five, and Mom never has had direct access to my money. Well, until now. She must have guessed my pin number which wasn’t hard—it was Dad’s birthday, foolish on my behalf— she’s taken all the money I currently have in all my accounts.
Given my cell is without charge, I can’t call anyone or use an app to change the card and passwords. I was halfway through a conversation with the bank when my cell battery ran out. They told me there was nothing they could do until next month.
