by Low, JA
Paradise
The Paradise Club Series
JA Low
Contents
Foreword
1. Camryn
2. Camryn
3. Camryn
4. Camryn
5. Nate
6. Camryn
7. Nate
8. Nate
9. Nate
10. Camryn
11. Camryn
12. Nate
13. Nate
14. Camryn
15. Camryn
16. Nate
17. Camryn
18. Nate
19. Camryn
20. Camryn
21. Nate
22. Camryn
23. Nate
24. Camryn
25. Nate
26. Camryn
27. Camryn
28. Nate
29. Camryn
30. Nate
31. Camryn
32. Camryn
33. Nate
34. Camryn
35. Nate
36. Camryn
37. Nate
38. Camryn
39. Camryn
40. Nate
41. Camryn
42. Nate
43. Camryn
44. Nate
45. Camryn
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Author
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Also by JA Low
Paradise Club Series
Copyright @ 2020 JA Low
All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. JA Low is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
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Editor @ Swish Design & Editing
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Created with Vellum
Foreword
* * *
Please note this book is extremely hot.
If you do not like lots of sex and sex with other people then do not pass go.
* * *
1
Camryn
Okay. Maybe the trench coat was not the greatest idea. I’ve been propositioned a couple of times as I’ve walked down 5th Avenue. Add in the dirty looks from the women who think I’m a hooker. Let’s be real, if I were, I would a be a goddamn expensive one, that’s for sure. I’m high-end all the way, baby. They can clutch their pearls and designer bags because I’m not after their husbands. I’m actually on my way to cheer up my man, who has been working extra hard at the moment. Poor guy is so stressed, in fact, he’s so stressed he hasn’t had time to pop by my office and give me my afternoon delight like he usually does.
A man in an expensive suit holds the glass door open for me as I enter Harris’ building. My heels click-clack against the marble floor. The rush of a warm breeze floats over my goosebumped skin. The days have cooled down as winter slowly creeps over New York City. The leaves have changed from the lush green foliage to the burnt orange of fall to the decaying brown pile of crap littering the sidewalks. Pulling out my swipe card, I smile at the security guard who lifts an inquisitive eyebrow at me with the tiniest of smirks crossing his lips. He knows exactly what I’m up to and wholeheartedly approves. I hit the elevator button to take me up to the top floor, where thankfully, the majority of people have finished for the evening, only the last of the workaholics are still active in their cubicles. The bell dings as the elevator doors open into the foyer of Harris’ company.
“Evening, Janice,” I say, greeting the receptionist, who’s still working after hours.
“Good evening, Miss Starr.” The older lady smiles at me, taking in my not-too-subtle outfit.
“How’s he doing tonight?”
Janice rolls her eyes. “He’s in a mood,” she warns me.
“Let’s hope I can ease him into a better one,” I say while giving her a cheeky wink.
“You’re going to need something more than a sexy outfit hidden under that coat to get him out of the funk he’s in. His father stopped by.”
My shoulders sink. Harris doesn’t get along with his father, who he describes as controlling and overbearing, but as he holds the purse strings to his trust fund, he has to do what good old daddy tells him to. Otherwise, he’ll be cut off. All I can say is I’m so glad I am self-made—I want to be the one in charge of my purse strings.
“Why don’t you pack up for the night? I’ll take care of it from here.”
She gives me an appreciative smile as she quickly tidies up her workspace, then rushes through reception into the waiting elevator. Janice gives me a thumbs-up as the doors close. Silence now filters through the work area. Taking a deep breath, squaring my shoulders, I untie my trench coat and let it loosely hang in front of me, exposing my very expensive lingerie. I make my way down the corridor, passing the empty offices until I reach the one I’m after. My knuckles knock against the wooden door two times.
“What, Janice? I’m busy,” he bellows from behind.
You certainly will be in a minute.
I twist the doorknob and slink into his office. His head is down, busily scribbling something onto paperwork in front of him. I let my coat slip off my shoulders and fall to the floor. It takes him a while to look up. Obviously, he’s waiting for whoever entered his office to speak first. When he finally does look up and sees me standing there in nothing but a gorgeous black lace outfit, those gorgeous sea-green eyes widen in a moment of shock before heat starts to burn behind them. He drops his pen and sits back against his chair, and his large hands begin to loosen his tie as his eyes roam hungrily over my near-naked body.
“What do I owe this pleasure?” His voice deepens as his eyes zero in on my breasts, spilling from the cups of my bra.
“I’ve been worried about you.” Walking closer to his desk, my hips move side to side, hypnotizing him. “You’ve been working so hard lately, and I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Work’s been…” He forgets his words and trails off as I stop right in front of his desk.
“I’ve missed you,” I purr.
Harris bites his lip as his eyes stay firmly set on my breasts.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“Good.” Placing my hands on his desk and leaning forward, I continue, “I’ve come to help you release some of that tension I can see building all over your body.”
“You have?” His voice rising, just like the tent in his pants.
“Yeah. I’ve come to make you feel better. You want me to make you feel better, don’t you?” He nods his head quickly. “Good.” I smile at him. “Sit back, relax, and let me make you feel better,” I state as I drop to my knees and craw
l under his desk.
“Fuck, Camryn. You know this is a fantasy of mine.”
Looking up between his legs, I smile. “I know. I just wanted to say goodbye before you went away on your business trip. You know, so you don’t forget about me.”
His large hands cup my face. “How could I ever forget about you? You’re perfect.” Well, that’s good, I’m glad to hear that. “Fuck it! Let me cancel my weekend. I want to spend it with you on your knees instead.”
Licking my lips, that sounds like a great idea. “As much as I want to say let’s do it, you said it was important family business.”
Harris’ hands fall from me, a slight look of pain flashes across his face. What did I say wrong? He pushes back on his roller chair, moving away from me.
I scramble forward, slowly getting to my feet. Has he lost in his mind?
“Hey, what is it?” Trying to gain his attention again, I continue, “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Moving closer to him, his large hands wrap around my waist as he picks me up and deposits me on his lap. My legs straddle his large frame.
“I don’t know how I ended up with you in my life, but I am so damn thankful.” He kisses me, it’s slow, tender, with a hint of sadness. What’s going on?
“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you get back,” I say, reassuring him, but it feels like there’s an element of goodbye to his kiss.
“I know you will be. I don’t deserve you.” There’s that look of pain again across his face. He’s actually scaring me.
“Babe.” Running my hand through his lush, thick hair. “I’m here for you. No matter what. You know I’m your ride or die.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I know you are. That’s what I love about you. No matter what, you’re always there for me.”
“That’s because I love you.”
“I love you, too, Camryn.” Kissing me again, this time with heat and a sense of urgency, his palms roam over my skin, curving around my ass as his fingers sink into the fleshiness of it. Pulling me hard against him, I feel his arousal. “I need you, Camryn. I need you hard and fast. I need to be inside of you.”
“Yes.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I reiterate, “Yes.”
Harris’ fingers make quick work of the fly on his suit pants, then a quick flick and his boxers have been pushed down too. His dick is standing at attention between us. I move myself to my knees, then center myself right over him, his fingers move the edge of the lace to the side, allowing me to sink down on him.
We both hiss at the connection between us.
Harris buries his face into my neck as he begins to move inside of me. His thrusts are manic as if he’s soaking up every last drop of me like I’m going to disappear on him.
“I love you, Cam,” he chants over and over again, which ordinarily would set my heart on fire, but tonight, it’s filled with unease.
Something is going on, but he can’t tell me, and it feels like when he does finally tell me whatever it is, I might not want him. There’s isn’t anything in this world he could tell me that would make me think any less of him. I love him with all my heart. He’s the first man in a long time where I have let my guard down.
He’s buried himself deep inside of my heart—it is all his.
I am his—forever.
How wrong was I?
I should have listened to my gut.
I should have asked more questions.
Because I had no idea what was coming next.
2
Camryn
Thankfully, the commute to Greenwich, Connecticut, wasn’t bad from Manhattan. As the city gives way of its concrete urban jungle to the green oasis of suburbia with its picture-perfect streets, there are beautiful burnt orange leaves decorating the paths perfectly as if someone has placed them there. The gated estates of billionaires start to come into view as I make my way to this evening’s event.
We had a last-minute party to organize this weekend, and because they were willing to offer double our normal charge, how could we say no. Plus, Greenwich is full of extremely rich and affluent people, so expanding from our core demographic of Manhattan to the suburbs seems like a good idea.
Starr and Skye Events is still a new business in the highly competitive world of high-end event planning. We don’t have the luxury to turn down high-paying clients. Kimberly, my business partner, and I hustle. We will work twenty-four hours straight if we have to, to get our name out there to the society queens and upper crust of New York.
Finally, I pull into the driveway of the estate where we’re working today and press the buzzer.
“Camryn Starr from Starr and Skye Events.” Talking into the static, there is a buzz, and the gates begin to open. I follow the long winding driveway through acres of trees until I finally emerge feeling like I’ve just set foot in the French countryside. I notice Kimberly waving me off to the side and follow her directions away from the house, pulling into a car space, obviously in the employees’ area.
“Hey.” She smiles, opening my door.
“Hey.” Grabbing my bag from the passenger’s side and pulling out my phone, I’m ready to get going.
“Everything’s on track.” Kimberly brings me up to speed on the progress of the party. “The clients would like to meet us, now that you’re here.”
Nerves flutter in my stomach. This isn’t the first time we’ve worked for celebrity guests who don’t want their identities given away until the day of the party to curb any media interest and especially leaks. Kimmie and I are used to the hoops these kinds of clients put us through, but still, it’s always nerve-wracking meeting them. You just hope that you’ve done a good enough job for them—it takes one client to undo your reputation you have worked so hard for.
“Right.” Quickly checking myself in my car’s mirror to make sure I haven’t smudged my lipstick, or I have a bird’s nest on the top of my head, I continue, “Let’s go meet these mysterious clients, then.”
Pressing the golden doorbell of the main house, we both wait nervously. The wooden door opens, and we’re greeted by a man in a three-piece suit.
“Miss Skye, Miss Starr, welcome to the Van Kamp Estate,” he greets us. “My name is Carlton. I am the butler of the residence.” Of course, they would have a butler, a house this size probably needs one. “If you would like to follow me inside, I will escort you to the library where Mr. and Mrs. Van Kamp will see you.”
Carlton holds the door open with his white-gloved hands while Kimberly and I step into the grand house and instantly feel like we have stepped into a museum. Walls are lined with old paintings and tapestries. Along the marble corridor, priceless vases and antiques stand. I don’t think our insurance will cover a priceless Ming vase if we knock one over this weekend.
Finally, Carlton escorts us into an antique-styled library. Persian rugs are scattered across the floor, and what looks to be first edition leather bound books line the walls. The room has a musky old person smell with a hint of maybe cigars about it. A large mahogany desk sits to one side and a green velvet chaise to the other. Carlton steps out of the room and closes the door.
“This place is kind of creepy,” Kimberly whispers, our eyes scanning the room around us.
“I bet it’s haunted.” I give her a nudge.
“Shit! Don’t say that. You know how I feel about ghosts and haunted houses.”
Kimberly comes from a good, old Southern family. She grew up in one of those Gone with the Wind plantation homes, which she swears is haunted. She often tells me strange things happen around her home. I’ve stayed there and never seen anything, though. I’ve known Kimberly for years. This gorgeous, southern belle debutant, who looks all apple pie and sweet tea, is actually a bulldog underneath that outside appearance. Don’t let the blonde hair, big boobs, and accent fool you, she has turned into a true New Yorker and will rip your balls off if she has to.
We met when I moved to New York after leaving a bad situation in Los Angeles behind me. My best friend
, Vanessa, was attacked by her then-boyfriend in our home—I found her covered in blood and almost dead. It was a traumatizing situation. After that, I couldn’t stay in town anymore. The therapist told me it was Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from the attack. It’s taken me a long time to finally get over the nightmare that haunted me afterward. I made sure Vanessa was safe before I left. Her best friend, and now soon-to-be husband, Christian Taylor, from the uber-famous band Dirty Texas, took her in and nursed her back to life.
I needed a fresh start for my own sanity. So, I packed up and headed to New York. Got a job working with the legend, who is Diane Black from Noir Events, the top events company in the city. Unfortunately, my idol turned out to be Cruella Deville in disguise. After being short-changed one too many times on our holiday bonuses and finding out our boss was pocketing it all instead, Kimberly and I decided enough was enough and started our own business. When we launched and began to gain attention, Diane tried to get us blacklisted in New York society. Thankfully, we had enough connections that it didn’t work. It also helped that we had so many ex-Noir employees who wanted to work for us that we expanded quite quickly. It wasn’t long until we were nipping at Diane’s heels for being the top luxury events company in Manhattan.
