by Ferraro, W
REFUSING TO FALL
Copyright © 2016 W. Ferraro
All Rights Reserved
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the authors, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
Cover Design: RE Creatives
Editor: Editing4Indies
Interior Design: Integrity Formatting
The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, to factual events or to businesses is coincidental and unintentional.
Reed Dennison prides himself on perfection. Strategizing and maneuvering himself into positions of success in his professional life; all the while holding every detail regarding his personal life close to the vest. For Reed, every aspect must be controlled - everything must be in its place and the impeccable public image can never falter.
Well that is his plan anyways until a routine coffee run morphs into the first of many fiery encounters with the sexy artist Colby Jackson. Their explosive, yet casual, affair ends, and they part ways never expecting to see each other again.
Imagine Reed’s surprise when Colby is introduced, as the newest resident in Clearwater Falls and soon becomes fully entrenched in the daily lives of his family. But, something about this one-of-a-kind woman has Reed willing to forgo his thoroughly crafted rules.
Will Reed’s desire for Colby loosen his tight rein of control? Or will Reed’s ambition destroy any chance he has at a shot to really live?
Reed thought he knew exactly what he wanted out of life. Now, he may lose the one thing he never knew he wanted.
What do you do when your private haven, threatens to become the ultimate land of temptation?
~For my Greg~
Thank you for going through this crazy ride we call life, with me.
Every day you are loved, and every day you prove to me how much I am loved in return.
~Shannon~
You came into my life right when I didn’t know I needed you. But, need you I did.
I can never show my true gratitude or the love and splendor you have brought into my life.
All I can say is thank you, even though it is minimal in comparison.
~Trish, Karyn, Kelley, Mary, Shelley, Kristin, Melissa, Mayra, Alice and Amy~
Thank you so much for sticking by me.
For letting me wallow when I need to wallow, cry when I needed to cry and sputter nonsense all the friggin’ time.
Your constant words of encouragement and what I still feel is overzealous compliments reminded me of the things I forgot-I enjoy writing, I’m good at it and I have special stories to tell.
Not to mention, I write a blow job scene like no one else.
I’m blessed to have you all in my life and would be missing parts of my heart if you were no longer there.
~My Hamden Helpers~
This one is for you
~ The Hype PR ~
Kelley and Christine you two are rockstars.
Dedication
Special Thanks
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Also by W. Ferraro
Contact W. Ferraro
Ignorant to the falling snow and the howling wind outside, the occupants of the Coos County District Attorney’s Office in Lancaster, New Hampshire, were nothing short of jovial and eager to celebrate. With the pop of champagne corks echoing through the office, we filled flutes with the flowing bubbly and passed them around to fervent hands. The source of such merriment was a landslide victory of their biggest case of the year. The immense win was thanks to their district attorney, Reed Dennison, the unanimous hero of the hour.
Reed walked down the carpeted hall of his office, passing all the empty desks and heading toward the conference room where his entire team awaited. His gait never wavered nor did his dazzling smile with the hint of his signature dimples falter. As he passed through the door of the overflowing room, he politely bowed to the round of applause while removing and handing his trench coat off to his assistant, Garrett.
Accepting a filled flute, he tried to signal for the applause to stop. When the room was silent, he began “Thank you all, but as I have always said before, this is not solely my victory but rather a victory for us all. Most of you have worked countless hours and unending days to weed through and collect the evidence that made this such an ironclad conviction. Without all of your hard work, I wouldn’t look nearly as good.” Reed raised his flute, flashed his twin dimples again, and winked to the room at large.
As the crowd went back to their conversations, Reed began to make his circuit. Stopping to accept a personal congratulations here and a tipsy hug there, he finally made it to Garrett against the wall of windows, where the young lawyer rolled up his sleeves and smirked. “Most people would live for such a scene and run with the victory, yet you seem to shy away from such praise.”
Reed looked at the red-haired man he considered a friend, and with a quiet voice that would not roam further than his companion’s ears, he said, “It isn’t the praise the makes me uncomfortable. It is the roaming hands of Lilly every time she gets what she thinks is a chance to cop a feel.” He was only telling a half-truth.
While Reed shook his head in exasperation, Garrett laughed and clapped the man on the back.
“Truly, a great win. You gave credit to everyone yet didn’t mention the countless hours you pored over every aspect of this case. Take the win with a smile, Reed. God knows you deserve it.”
Reed watched over the rim of his glass as the other man turned to another colleague. He drained it before placing the empty flute on the windowsill behind him.
Taking a moment to indulge in the non-attention, he watched the interaction from his completely professional team. Reed couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how he came to be here, in this place, where he knew studying law was the only choice for him.
Like his father, the retired Honorable Judge Grady Dennison, he found the importance of constant order even from a young age. Not just in how he sorted his laundry or how he organized his room, but also the right side or the left side of a specific line. How such order was meant to have an intricate understanding, representing and abiding by the fine-tuned machine, which was known as the law.
Some would say the best way to do just that would be to enforce the law and be a cop, but wearing that kind of badge was never on Reed’s radar. No, he would leave that to his oldest brother, the county sheriff, and his kid sister, who worked with the New Hampshire State Police.
Instead, Reed knew his place, undoubtedly, was to live the law just as his father did—from inside a courtroom.
He remembered his fascination to all the happenings in such an ominous type room as a child. Where order was the only rule and compassion didn’t even seem to register. When his father swung his gavel, any argument or tears, or both, ended. As the years went on, he still went to watch his father rule over incidents of importance, reveling in the ins and outs of seeing the law enforced every day—case by case, person b
y person. The law was the same whether you were white, black, tall, short, rich, poor, educated, blue collar, or white collar. In the eyes of the law, nothing was more important than the reason it existed.
Constant order.
Reed knew his life’s path. He threw himself into his studies and accepted nothing short of perfection from that day forward. Over the years, never letting his eyes waver from the prize, he made the right contacts and connections, ensuring all his opportunities and offerings were on his credibility and talents. Nixing any interpretations that his name opened doors for him, he not only made a name for himself quickly but he also created another avenue that his young self had never even considered.
Politics.
Through his hard work and exemplary work ethic, he soon found himself on the fast track to climb such a ladder, becoming one of the youngest district attorneys in the United States. Not to mention, he was a favorite of big names in the party who wanted to use his praiseworthy record as a campaign mission statement.
And as if he appeared only because he crossed his mind, Reed looked at the door where none other than New Hampshire State’s Attorney Tom O’Malley’s million-dollar smile was heading straight toward him.
Reed stood to his full height of six-foot-two and accepted the slap on the back and a masculine hug from his boss.
Tom ignored all the other occupants of the room and said, “Let’s go to your office and discuss some plans.”
Reed watched the man turn and leave without acknowledging another soul in the room. He buttoned his suit coat and followed in the man’s wake. But as he did, he quickly thanked everyone he passed before turning left outside the door and heading to his corner office that overlooked School Street.
When he entered his office, he noticed Tom had made himself comfortable at Reed’s desk. He sat in his oversized leather chair with his feet crossed at the ankles and propped atop Reed’s blotter. Reed’s jaw ticked with irritation, but he simply unbuttoned his suit coat, took a seat on the comfortable sofa that aligned one of the inside walls, and placed his left ankle on his right knee to await whatever Tom felt the need to say.
“Reed, amazing win! With that victory, you just wrote your ticket to an unbeatable run for the Senate.”
Reed didn’t say a word. He only nodded his head and rotated his propped ankle in a completely comfortable manner.
“Come on, my boy, don’t give me that ‘it’s my job’ shit. Admit you did a damn good job and look at the potential for what such a win could mean for voters. You took a sick bastard off the street, gave a grieving family closure to a heinous crime that stole their eight-year-old away from them, and you did it without even breaking a sweat. That is what we call ‘campaign gold.’”
It was true; Reed Dennison was considering a run for the state Senate, and he knew that he would need to rub elbows with less than honorable people, but the thought of using such a horrendous case in nothing but a statistical way just did not sit well with him.
Reed could never forget the things he had seen in this case. These facts could have been ripped right out of a bestselling crime drama or from a big screen summer blockbuster. Reed was nothing short of sick to know that such demented and disturbed people lived and breathed in the same society as his mother and his young nieces and nephew. That any one of them could have easily been the victim of such atrocities helped Reed stay focused and was willing to accept nothing less than a conviction on all counts.
But he knew voicing such thoughts would be futile in his current company.
Tom O’Malley was a politician through and through. Nothing was sacred. Nothing was off-limits. Use what you got, keep your emotions to yourself, and by God, grease whatever you needed to grease to win.
Unfortunately, Reed knew that for him to make the move to run his campaign, he could not afford to alienate Tom O’Malley. He was a heavy hitter, and he knew just how to run a seemingly perfect campaign.
Tom removed his feet and sat up straight. “Look, Reed, Conrad and I have been talking, and we think that the sooner you announce your intentions to run, the sooner you can nail down the nomination. Which, of course, would make both Conrad’s and my next moves equally important and further cemented down.”
Reed watched as the other man spoke volumes while only wording minimal information. Reed knew that Conrad Bateman, the current governor, had his eyes on a national Senate run, and Tom thought he would easily just slide right into the open governor slot. Even though Reed knew this was their plan, and he knew he would publically rally behind both campaigns, he couldn’t help but think to himself, God, this guy really is an asshole.
Unaware of Reed’s current thoughts, Tom continued. “And what better time to announce this than with your landslide win. Truly, we couldn’t have created a more impressive and important springboard if we tried.”
With his ankle still slowly rotating in clockwise circles, Reed finally spoke up. “Tom, you know I gave my word that I would run, and I have no intention of going back on it. However, I don’t believe either the timing or this case being used as the springboard, as you call it, is right for me and the type of campaign I intend to run.”
Tom responded with what appeared to be calmness, but Reed saw right through it. “What if I told you that Conrad and I think differently and, after all, we know best? Don’t forget, Reed, you won’t get anywhere in this state without us backing you. So for argument’s sake, let’s just skip over all this ‘what do you think, what do I think’ shit and get right to this. Lacey Gibbons will be here in your office at nine am tomorrow morning to get the ball rolling on your campaign, and Conrad and I fully intend for you to go along with her plan. Are we clear?”
“Like the finest Waterford,” Reed replied dryly.
Tom, smug in his verbal victory, rose from his seat, fastened his suit coat button, grabbed his trench coat from where he’d thrown it over one of the wingback chairs, and turned back to Reed. “Good win today, Dennison, something to be proud of.” With a nod of his head, he exited the room leaving Reed to rub his forehead.
Reed sat in the quiet of his warm office as he turned over everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes, losing himself to the erratic and chaotic pattern of the falling snow outside.
Reed knew everything was falling into place, and he truly did want to win that state seat so he could put order into what he felt to be a weak economy and lacking industry. Born and raised here, in a town that still valued its closeness and dependability on each other, Reed knew the importance of defending and supporting the local farmers and buying local products. Unfortunately, in this day and age, everything came down to the almighty dollar, and most families or individuals went for convenience and frugality rather than what would help regional entrepreneurs, area-based family farms, and local manufacturing.
Did he think he could change it overnight? No. However, he did think, with the right leadership and appropriate funding and support, local vendors could reach more people without raising the price and maintaining the quality that people expected. Was it the sharpness of law-abiding case review? Again, no, but it was still something that needed order. Something that could benefit from an individual who thrived on creating and upholding such order—someone who would accept nothing less.
“Hey, Reed, where are you?” Garrett’s voice carried from the hall, effectively pulling Reed from his thoughts.
“I’m here,” he answered, standing and facing his friend.
“I saw Tom leave and was worried you might have thrown yourself out the window,” Garrett stated jovially.
Reed responded with a broad smile. “No, not this time. He just wanted to congratulate the office on the victory.”
Garrett moved farther into the room, taking a seat in the same chair that had housed Tom’s coat, and huffed out his retort. “I’m sure. If there is one thing I would bet my paycheck on, it’s that Tom O’Malley would never offer praise to anyone lower than the person who sits in that chair right there.”
He gestured toward the empty executive chair behind the large mahogany desk.
Reed decided not to insult Garrett’s intellect or spot-on judgment further, so silence fell on the room.
Garrett broke the peace first. “Well, the champagne has dried up, so everyone is heading out. If there isn’t anything else, I will probably head along too. Unless you need something?”
Reed looked at the man who gave so much of himself to him and this office and nodded his head toward the door with an unspoken order to get out of here. Reed knew Garrett had a fiancée and a toddler waiting at home for his arrival. At times, he needed Garrett here until the early hours of the morning, but tonight was definitely not one of them.
When Reed noticed the light from Garrett’s office die out and heard the ding of the elevator, he turned to the window and continued to watch the snowfall, comfortable in his solitude. His focus no longer concentrated on the falling snow outside but rather on his reflection. He observed his full height, a trait of being a Dennison, and the almost electric blue eyes fringed with thick lashes below dark brown brows and a neatly styled hairline. Just a glimpse of his five o’clock shadow on his strong chiseled jaw could be seen around what he has been told is a permanent but sexy set of pouty lips. His dark charcoal suit had minimal creases even after such a long day of wear; his shoulders were broad and his arms casual as one hand slipped into his pants pocket while the other draped against his side. His stark white shirt still looked flawless, cut to fit just perfectly and show off his defined chest, and was decorated by his ridiculously expensive silver silk tie, which he fingered almost intimately.
And just like that, one noticeable addition to his reflection was the wide smile that graced his face. As he stroked the expensive silky fabric, he couldn’t help but remember how he did the same to the beautiful gifter’s body. The beautiful buxom blonde was just one of many females who could fill his nonexistent little black book to overflow. In particular, he reminisced about her thirst to thank him in many different positions while he paid homage to rid them both of any orgasmic desire. They had met at a conference, and hit it off. And by hitting it off, he meant she was eager to share both her room key and her sexual skills with him over the next couple of hours.
