Carnal Beginnings

by Reily Garrett

  “You know, girls, I think Maura’s right for once. That guy should have psycho tattooed on his forehead.” Jackie’s disdain could’ve sliced the stalker to bits.

  The fact Jackie agreed and gave voice to her opinion sent Adara’s thoughts spiraling into a frenzy. The bitch didn’t even like her, which meant the other shoe had yet to drop.

  “I’d hate to see our little angel floating up on the shore like the other two girls found in the last six months. Nobody deserves that.”

  And there it is.

  “Do they have any suspects? The paper said the murders weren’t related, except for the way the victims were killed.” The wheels on Maura’s chair squeaked as she rolled back to her desk and faced her computer once again. “I still think you should tell Julien. You know how protective he is of us. And if not him, tell Nate, Conner, or Marc. They’ll look into it.”

  “No…no, that’s not necessary. Everything’ll be fine.” Because I’m gonna disappear within a week, as soon as I turn twenty-one.

  Restlessness and an undefined apprehension suspended time to draw out Adara’s frustration. Obstacles thrown in her path, Destiny’s way of thwarting success or testing her resilience, received no marks for originality.

  With increasing frequency, the glaring looks from Jackie narrowed her focus to the computer screen where she performed a last-minute spelling and grammar check on a document otherwise ready for sending. She had enough to worry about without the witch in the mix. If her uncle or cousin found out she had visitors while at work—she’d end up with more scars.

  As luck would have it, with an hour left to go in her workday, her one true male friend dropped by to visit. A phone call always preceded previous visits, and like last week, she would sneak out for lunch with the excuse of running errands. The look on Graham’s face explained his impromptu visit. Expressive gray eyes held the weight of the world in their sad depths.

  “Hey, sorry I didn’t call. How’s it going? You had lunch yet?” Graham’s detached voice echoed through the hollow depths of the office. Swollen, red eyelids, shaky breaths, and a slight runny nose portrayed his state of mind. A furtive glance around and his gaze landed on her face.

  “Yes, but…what’s happened, Graham?” Going home late after work would earn another scar but Graham was the one person she’d called friend since grade school. In a world of pain and humiliation, he remained her rock, a staunch supporter, and port in any storm. Adara glanced toward Julien’s office. Not at his desk. Personal visitors would draw unwanted attention. “How about we meet after work?”

  “I don’t want you to get in trouble with your family. How about tomorrow…I can meet you here.”

  “Graham—I’ll see if I can take off an hour early.” She made to stand, unable to bear the pain in his gaze.

  Golden, shaggy hair drifted across his face as he looked away. The rumpled shirt and trousers appeared slept in. His shoulders slumped. “No. Absolutely not, Adara. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  Unable to stop herself, Adara placed her hand on his arm, the sleeve wet from his tears. “Graham…” When his gaze met hers, she saw fear.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon. I’ve taken the next three days off. And, Adara—watch your back. Something weird is happening.”

  “O-Okay. I’ll meet you at noon tomorrow, right here.” The air of depression, fatigue, and confusion lingered as he shuffled toward the front door. He had never partnered with paranoia or flights of fancy, nor did his moods swing to either extreme.

  “Wow, Adara. He looks like he really needs a friend. Who is he?” Maura’s sympathetic curiosity weaved with her own.

  Adara hesitated before leaning back in her seat. “That’s Graham, a good friend of mine from school.”

  “Looks like he just lost his girlfriend,” Maura murmured.

  “Yeah, the kind that pees standing up.” Jackie’s two cents worth earned her a special place in Hell.

  Adara’s glare accompanied a mild retort. “That’s none of anyone’s business.” Dissing one of her two friends crossed the line.

  “I’m sure Julien wouldn’t mind if you took off an hour early…” Maura supplied in a quiet voice.

  “Um, no. I’d better not.” Reduced hours would show up on her paycheck. Her uncle monitored everything in her life and that would not escape his notice. Letting down a friend was just another sin in a long list of failures for which she could never atone.

  Chapter Four

  Julien didn’t catch the rest of the conversation about Simmie. He didn’t need it to know someone threatened his employee, his Adara. Whether it was the ex-boss or another dirtbag remained to be seen. Either way, he’d find out and end it.

  Unable to sit at his desk, he went in to bother Nate, the voice of reason. After shutting the door and plopping down on the sofa, he detailed the situation. They spent the next few minutes discussing his greatest challenge.

  Shadows crept across his desk by the time Julien felt confident in his overall plan. Taking note of fine details made him a successful investigator, and determination would see his plan to fruition. His smile had faltered when he saw another man at Adara’s desk. Jesus.

  The weary slump of overburdened shoulders, disheveled appearance, and downcast eyes added to the lean-looking visitor’s emotional pain worn like a shroud.

  From everything Julien had observed in the prior six months, Adara didn’t need another burden. Life wouldn’t give her a break. The wheels of his chair squeaked as he pulled forward to rest his elbows on his smooth mahogany desk. If he approached her directly, she’d deny any problems and refuse his help, so he couldn’t bring up the snippet of conversation overheard. Time for a sideways approach and step up my game. A little calculated distraction would serve the purpose. He waited until the end of the workday.

  Julien read over the final report Adara had handed him, thankful she didn’t question his methodology in dealing with her would-be suiter. If there hadn’t been an audience at the time, he’d be washing bloody fists. All good things in time.

  Her usual perfectionist secretarial skills didn’t disappoint, though it frustrated the hell out of him to see her performing such menial work. From everything he’d gleaned, her intelligence equaled or surpassed anyone in the office. She obviously loved to learn, always asking detailed questions, everything from technology to process.

  “This is great. You can overnight it. Thanks, Adara.” The clean scent of vanilla and spice curled around his nostrils, necessitating a long blink to clear his head. Little Julien stirred again. Damn it. That annoying habit had to cease. His mental health depended on it. Turning his thoughts to his newly remodeled office didn’t help. The interior decorator he’d hired to make the space into a soothing, peaceful retreat had failed miserably and ought to be shot.

  “Yes, sir. Will do.” Her hesitant smile tore at his heart strings.

  Yes, sir. He wanted to hear those words come from her mouth in a different context, much different, with her kneeling in front of him, crystal-blue eyes focused on him with desire written in her expression. Hell. This girl’s in some kind of trouble and my heads go there? Shit.

  She always wore a chipper façade over pain and fear boiling just under the surface, invisible but festering nonetheless. Once he found a chink in her virtual shield of armor, he could help.

  “Everything all right, Adara? Mr. Lockes won’t be back. I’ve ended the contract.” He wanted to inquire about her second visitor, but figured she would withdraw and foil the strategy he’d devised. He’d never seen the young man before.

  “So, I’ve cost you business…I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, don’t sweat it. I often wondered why his father insisted on maintaining surveillance on a late, middle-aged woman whose idea of adventure consisted of getting ice cream from the local parlor. The son’s cursory check didn’t throw any red flags. You know—you should’ve come to me when he started bothering you. I would’ve taken care of it on the spot.”

  A super
ficial check on the weasel’s father revealed a major player owning a multi-million dollar drug company. Experience taught that no business that size remained squeaky clean, though his perfunctory perusal didn’t reveal gross warning signals. In meeting the CEO, he’d realized the need for secrecy in that line of work and wasn’t surprised with the man’s aloof, stoic nature despite questions about Julien’s personal life. Some people were just nosy.

  “Me? Oh, yes. I’m fine. Matter of fact, I’m excited. Soon, I’ll finally be a real person, legally that is.” A look of triumph crossed her face.

  “So, how are you going to celebrate? Have a special date with a boyfriend?” Odd way to think of her birthday, considering her normal reactions were muted and self-controlled. Maybe she’s just waiting to cut loose.

  “Not with Prince Charming, that’s for sure.” The unladylike snort erupted from the badass side of Adara. “Maybe I’ll run off and keep fifty dogs…”

  Her first genuine smile.

  “Not cats?” Hmm, she’s a fan of canines…nice.

  “No, dogs. Big attack dogs. Long chompers, strong jaws.”

  Though she was joking, a world of truth surfaced in her gaze. Pain surfed the crystal-blue gaze at times, if the observer knew how to look.

  “Who would you train them to attack?” He frowned, cocked his head to the side and held his breath for her answer. Please. Give me an in. The world tilted, waiting. He needed a starting point. A wedge.

  “Oh. I love dogs. That’s all.”

  Generic answer, figures. “Adara, some people hide their pain, then run from trouble. It’s been my experience that no one can hide forever, not from someone who’s determined.”

  Her uncertainty waivered. Indecision warred with fear. “Good assistants are hard to find and I’d hate to lose you.” Julien leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest as he contemplated his little enigma. “You don’t believe in happy ever after. Why so cynical?”

  “Not cynical, just pragmatic. My version of Prince Charming would keep a bedroom full of whips and chains…” She rolled her eyes and blushed.

  “Well, can’t say chains do much for me, though sometimes the right kind of whip can be fun.” Dear God, which head is at the helm here… That kind of talk would send her running for the hills.

  “Oh jeez. You’re one of them.”

  “One of them?”

  “Yeah—perverts.” Her sudden intake of breath belied her intent to speak.

  To loosen up enough to speak in those terms embodied a step in the right direction. “It’s all right to speak your mind, and I want your trust, though I know I’ll have to earn it.”

  “Sorry, I’m not usually so outspoken.”

  “No problem. I like the badass version of Adara. I do have a question, though. How can someone be so jaded and still a prude?” His smile locked her gaze to him, as he knew it would.

  The depths of her pain that surfaced would’ve driven him to his knees had he not been sitting. He couldn’t help but wonder what terrors lay underneath the cool exterior. After months of working together, she’d given away nothing personal, always the generic, invisible assistant.

  Memories of Sarah flitted through his mind. A gentle soul who had requested help. She’d needed protection from her abusive husband, then refused the guidance he offered. He’d found her bloody and broken. This time would be different. He’d find a way to help Adara.

  “I’m not jaded or a prude, thank you very much.” Her tone underscored inner strength. She frowned and tilted her head to the side, as if trying to decide what manner of humanoid he might be.

  “Yeah? Prove it.”

  “How could I possibly do that without becoming a slut or a nun? Besides, this may be a large community, but I do value my reputation.” Tentative voice and furrowed brow betrayed her astonishment over the direction of their conversation, or perhaps a once-strong version of Adara now emerged.

  When she nibbled her bottom lip, he stifled a groan.

  She stood on the edge of a great precipice, one he hoped to help her navigate. His thoughts turned maudlin with his senses on overload so he needed to tread carefully. One wrong move and she’d retreat back into her tortoise shell.

  “Okay. How about visiting a place like—Ambrosia. You could go in disguise and give me a full report in the morning. Who knows, one night might change the course of your life.” No use holding his breath despite thoughts of her at his BDSM club bringing a surge of blood roaring through his ears—and other body parts.

  “Yeah. Join the cause for global erotic extremism. I’ve heard Jackie talk about that stuff. Go in and pay someone to beat the crap out of me. Sounds like fun. I’ll be there, take a walk on the wild side and then slip back to prim and proper Monday morning after I spend the night in the ER. Thanks for the advice—but I don’t think I’ll volunteer for more scars and bruises.”

  More scars and bruises? The unconscious slip of the tongue confirmed what he’d figured, but with her closed-off persona, he hadn’t ferreted out the culprit. She’d never dated the weasel. In fact, the tail end of her conversation with the sleazeball included her confession of not dating at all. He could now delve deeper into the mystery of Adara, if not her second visitor.

  The grimace on her face gave him pause. Obvious thoughts about BDSM aside, he knew underneath her timid exterior lived a survivor with a strong spirit. When he put a name to the emotional lamprey sucking the joy from her life, he’d have a target. To think her soul could become dry as a crouton paralleled a crime against nature.

  “Then, how about I take you out to dinner tonight? We could celebrate your upcoming birthday.”

  “Me? Uh, I’m not really dressed for—”

  “You look beautiful. It’d be my pleasure.” Leaning forward to invade her personal space constituted a calculated risk but would disrupt her concentration.

  Her jaw dropped, yet she didn’t withdraw, flustered and blushing with eyes so wide. Flustered was a good look on her and proved the best way to throw her off balance.

  Nothing better than creating anxiety to sandbag your mark. Guilt over manipulation swirled in his consciousness, however, desperate times…Should’ve done this long ago.

  “Um, it’s the middle of the week and I’m sure you have better things to do, Mr.—”

  “Julien. From now on, just Julien. Okay? Besides, don’t you eat during the week, too?” As he unfolded his arms and leaned farther forward, her sudden intake of breath told him he’d scored.

  Her body froze in place.

  His forefinger under her chin lifted her gaze until colliding with his own. Nothing could prepare him for the fear blasting a figurative hole in his chest.

  “Breathe, Adara. Breathe. I will never hurt you.” He tried desperately to do the same. It was the first time they’d connected on a meaningful level.

  A combination of confusion, curiosity, and fear warred for dominance in her expression, each drawing on his instincts to protect while siphoning off sexual energy. Dilated pupils to the point of nearly obliterating her irises resulted from an adrenaline rush.

  “Fight or flight, Adara?” Seeing the figurative wheels of her mind struggling to grind sent a surge of hope through his soul.

  Chapter Five

  “Um…” Julien’s green-eyed gaze had haunted her nights for months and now sealed the breath in her lungs. When her jaw dropped, he simply closed it with a finger under her chin. Simple, elegant, heart stopping.

  “I can’t breathe.” Panic took root in her mind and scalded reason. His proximity and caress sent her judgment into a tailspin. He’s just touching my face. Something she’d secretly dreamed about since their first meeting.

  All six-foot-four inch of pure male unfolded and towered over her. Jeez. She gulped. Her gaze darted wildly around as she blew out a series of short breaths.

  Taking her wrist, he placed her hand on his chest then covered it with his larger, warmer one. Her entire body trembled. The electrical current from
his touch nearly dropped her to her knees and zapped him in return, judging by the expression of his widened eyes and quick intake of breath. The hard wall of his chest under her hand felt like slabs of muscle laid side by side, rippling under her fingers as she flexed them. The warmth of him pressing her hand tighter to his body lent little courage.

  “It’s anxiety, Adara. You can conquer it. Breathe with me.” His shirt expanded as he took an exaggerated breath.

  The nerve to run her fingers over that inviting expanse refused to come, like an elusive thread forever out of reach. Instead, she curled her fingertips against him again, watching his chest expand as he inhaled deeply. The beat of his heart under her palm increased, as did her own.

  “Inhale. Now.”

  The deep voice commanded her on a level that frightened. She gasped in a shallow breath, her body afraid not to follow his order. Concentration scattered as her vision dimmed. Her thoughts disconnected from reality just as when her cousin gripped her by her braided hair.

  “Exhale, Adara. Let it out.”

  The savage rhythm of her heart intensified as short puffy breaths sawed in and out over raw tissues. Warmth drained from her face. She couldn’t run when his fingers slid to her shoulders to support her. Instinct dictated he wouldn’t let go. She was trapped, physically and emotionally.

  Air whooshed out when he crushed her to his chest, the explosion jarring her mind as much as her body.

  “Better? Now inhale.” His fingers bit gently into her shoulders, the warmth flooding her shaking frame. She gasped again, but from the shock of chest-to-chest contact. The thin cotton bra and shirt did nothing to protect her breasts from the massive expanse of hard muscle. The room began to spin.

  “Exhale, Adara. Keep breathing.”

  “My eyes won’t focus. Oh God.”

  As her knees gave way and she slowly crumpled, he swept her up in his arms, sat on the deep-tufted sofa, settling her on his lap. The creak of the door swinging shut after he leaned over the arm of the couch resounded in her mind. He tilted her to lean back in the crook of his arm.