by Kelli Walker
Saving Valencia
A Steamy Alpha Male Romance
Kelli Walker
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Protected: A Second Chance Baby Daddy Romance
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Blurb: Protected: A Second Chance Baby Daddy Romance
I’m being stalked like an animal, and my ex wants to protect me.
My life is crumbling at my feet, and all I can do is look over my shoulder.
Stopping.
Staring.
Fearing for my life.
Then, my ex comes knocking at my door.
Promising he can keep me safe.
With his thick muscles and his brooding stare and a body whose crevices call to mine.
The man who broke my heart wants to shield me from the man who broke my mind.
A man I married.
Trusted.
Divorced.
I can’t say no, but I want to.
I have to say ‘no’, but I can’t.
And when he injures himself keeping his vow, I can’t push him away.
I was being tracked and he never left me.
So I refuse to leave him.
I guess some things never change.
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Blurb
Title: Saving Valencia: A Steamy Alpha Male Romance
My plane crashed. My pilots are dead. And we’re stuck on an island.
Me, my best friend, and his secretary.
The sun is harsh. The sand is hot.
And no one knows we’re alive.
Or so we thought.
The second she finds us, she captivates me.
This jungle woman with wild hair.
She’s a functioning mute with a chip on her shoulder.
And she’s been hired to save us.
But, the island has other plans.
Storms roll in and drown us out.
Trapping us by our necks.
I’m cooped up with her. This feral jungle woman.
A woman I can’t crack.
Val has a body that makes me ache.
Eyes that swallow me whole.
But when I catch a glimpse of the skin of her back,
I see where the real trap lies.
Her past.
Valencia Bouchard was hired to save me.
But it might just be me saving her.
Contents
1. Silas
2. Valencia
3. Silas
4. Valencia
5. Silas
6. Valencia
7. Silas
8. Valencia
9. Silas
10. Valencia
11. Silas
12. Valencia
13. Silas
14. Valencia
15. Silas
16. Valencia
17. Silas
18. Valencia - Two Days Later
19. Silas
20. Valencia
21. Silas
22. Valencia
23. Silas
24. Valencia
25. Silas
26. Valencia
27. Silas
28. Valencia
29. Silas
Epilogue - Valencia - One Year Later
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Silas
I looked around the cabin of my private jet as we soared away from Brazil. The week-long business trip had been well worth it, but I knew we still had one more to go. Doing business with Brazilians was a far cry away from the business I did in the States. Relationships had to be built. Time spent not discussing contracts and buyouts and future headquarters needed to be experienced. Businessmen in Brazil didn’t want to simply be wined and dined. They wanted to feel as if they were having an experience with someone who was kin to them.
That was the key to unlocking what I truly wanted.
“How do you feel the dinner last night went?” Grant asked.
I looked over at my right-hand man and drew in a deep breath.
“About as well as our first night of college did,” I said.
“Oh, such a good night,” he said. “If it went that well, then I think during the next trip we should be able to seal the buyout.”
“Excuse me. Next trip?”
Angel piped up from the corner and stopped typing away on her laptop.
“Yes, Miss Ratcliffe. Our next trip. We need to go ahead and get one on the books. I’d say another three months out. That seemed like a good time span,” Grant said.
“I second that,” I said. “Another week-long trip to Brazil three months from now. I also need you to get in contact with a local florist and gift shop so we can send ‘thank you’ gifts to those who hosted us throughout the week. We can’t afford to miss any of them, lest they not feel like family.”
“Did you just command my personal secretary like she was your own?” Grant asked.
“Not my fault you underutilize her,” I said with a grin.
“Get a room, you two,” Angel said. “And for your information, Mr. Grant, I work for both of you. Remember?”
“But you’re on my schedule currently today,” Grant said.
“Technically, none of us are on the schedule for today since we’re traveling. Does that mean I get paid overtime?” she asked.
I stifled a chuckle and smiled as I shook my head.
“Ever the sarcastic one,” Grant said.
“It’s funny you think that was sarcastic,” Angel said flatly.
“Clock your time worked today, Angel, and you’ll be paid accordingly. But I want all of this done before we land. Focus on the gifts first, then worry about planning the trip. I want it on the books by tonight, we’ll notify the required parties in two weeks, and once they agree to the timeframe we’ll start making travel plans,” I said.
“So, the same plan as last time?” Grant asked.
“If it isn’t damaged,” I said.
I hoped that the third time would be a charm. When I caught wind of the fact that Brazil’s largest banking institution was about to go under, I swooped in with an offer I figured no one would refuse. I’d not only buy out their company, I’d also absorb their debt, take on a bulk of their employees, and pay out handsome severance packages for those I didn’t keep. It was astounding to me when they turned me down, and that was when I did some research into Brazilian business ethics.
Now, we were headed back from our second trip, and I had a great feeling we would be negotiating buyout prices on the third.
I looked out the window of my plane as we soared over the ocean. I heard Grant mumbling lowly to Angel in the corner as she typed away on her laptop. I wasn’t ignorant. I knew the two of them were fucking
one another. And so long as it didn’t impede on their ability to be professional when it was required, I didn’t give a damn what the two of them did in their spare time. I’d known Grant ever since my freshman year of college. The two of us double-majored in Business and Finance at Harvard University and went on to build the largest financial institution in the United States. We built not simply a business, but a way of life. A one-stop shop for all things financial. Everything from basic banking to loans to stocks and retirement accounts, all of it could be found under one roof.
And with the rate of our growth over the past fifteen years, we now offered some of the most competitive compound interest rates in the marketplace.
Once I got my company established, the name of the game was growth. I wanted to become a big player in the U.S. financial industry, and it was easier said than done. Over half of the life of my company was spent digging ourselves into debt in order to get out from underneath the shadows the big dogs cast. But once we did, setting ourselves up internationally was a breeze. London practically begged us to settle there and Germany was a breeze. We swooped in when both the Greek and Italian banking systems crashed and helped to stabilize both economies. And those two moves alone put us on the map for something I never dreamed my business would do.
Help floundering countries stabilize their wealth.
Brazil was on the brink. Teetering between total collapse and rising above every other country in South America. It was tantalizing for a man like me. A man with a business and a reputation that catered specifically to their problem. Buying out the largest financial institution in Brazil would not only cement my company’s savior-like reputation, but it would establish us for the first time in the whole of South America.
I was determined to make it work.
“Mr. Hopkins?”
“You can call me ‘Silas’, Angel.”
“I just wanted to let you know the flowers and gifts have been sent out. They should be received by all parties before we land in New York City.”
“Thank you, Angel. Close that laptop of yours and enjoy the ride home. Tomorrow morning, you can get to work on scheduling what will hopefully be the last leg of our Brazilian journey.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“I’m always sure,” I said. “Clock out and enjoy the ride.”
I kept my gaze out the window, wondering if my parents would be proud of my success. Every time my company took another major step, I wondered what their reaction would be. If they had kept me around long enough, maybe I would’ve strived to do better for them. But they didn’t. They dumped me at an orphanage and ran off to live whatever life they thought was better without me. But it didn’t matter. None of that mattered. I grew up in the orphanages of New York City, used the resources available to me, earned a scholarship to go to one of the most prestigious colleges to date, and made something of myself.
I was worth keeping around, even if my own damn parents didn’t think so.
Maybe that was why I put in such long hours at work. For fuck’s sake, I had a damn bed moved into my ensuite apartment I built off my office. The penthouse apartment in New York City I did own was devoid of almost anything that made a home what it needed to be. No decorations. No color. No personality. It was functional, with a bit of furniture and a kitchen that could work if I dared to touch it.
Most of my meals were delivered to my office, however. So what the hell was the point of stainless steel appliances?
I couldn't prove myself to my parents, but I could prove myself to my company. I could work hard for them to set the standard that they needed to work hard for me. And I knew that mindset drastically challenged what most businessmen felt their position was. Once they got to where I was with my own company, they coasted. Backed off. Lived off their wealth and traveled the world, then wondered why the hell their employees slacked off.
One can’t lead if one won’t set an example.
The child I once was wanted to desperately to prove to my parents that I was worth keeping around. And when I garnered my first billion, I tracked them down so I could rub it in their face. I wanted to stare them in their eyes as they stumbled over their words, trying to explain to me why I was left behind at a hospital for the state to take on a whim.
But what I found instead I knew would stick with me for the rest of my life.
Now, I worked to prove my worth to my company. To the people that dedicated their lives to building what Worldly Financial had become. And when I swooped into Greece and Italy and used my resources and knowledge to single-handedly stabilize the whole of their economy, I knew I’d found my niche. In a world that was growing with political tension and monetary instability--with a stock market that rose and tanked as often as I devoured women--people needed someone to come in and save them. To come in and take the burden off their shoulders and provide for them a comfort that told them things would be all right.
I needed that as a child and never got it.
So in my adult years, I decided to give it in the form of my entire business.
My entire life’s work.
“Hello, everyone. This is your captain speaking. Nothing to be alarmed about, but we are coming up on some rough winds. If everyone could get in their seats and fasten their seatbelts, we should be through this momentarily.”
“Is everything okay?” Angel asked.
“Everything’s fine,” I said as I buckled myself in. “Nothing to be alarmed about. Flying over the ocean gets tricky sometimes.”
The plane dropped drastically and I reached my arm out to catch Grant. He almost tumbled headfirst into the metal arm of my leather seat. I reached out, helping him into his seat as he tried to buckle himself in.
But we hit another air pocket and began to plummet.
I heard Angel scream out as Grant’s body floated in midair. I reached over with both of my arms and tugged him into his chair. I got the seatbelt fastened around him before I put the air mask over his face, and I reached for mine while looking back at Angel. Her eyes were welling with tears as the pilot struggled to keep control of the plane, and I peeled my gaze away from her to look out the window.
The ocean grew closer and farther away, making me nervous as I gripped the arms of my seat.
“Grant!” Angel called out.
“Mayday, mayday. This is private jet zero-five-niner, flying from Viracopos International into New York City. We’re experiencing some engine--. Shit, the intercom is on. Mayday, mayday, this is… turn the damn thing--!”
The plane tilted on its axis as Angel’s screams filled the cabin. The pilot had engaged the intercom system while trying to call for help and his frantic voice filled the cabin. Something had happened to one of our engines and I saw the flames engulfing the right wing of my jet. I gripped tightly onto the arms of the chair, pivoting myself so I could look around me. Grant’s eyes rolled into the back of his head while Angel wrapped her arms around the seat to try and keep him upright. I felt adrenaline pumping through my veins as I peered back out the window of the plane.
Nothing below us but water and a small cluster of islands.
The intercom system started to fuzz and my mind jumped into overdrive. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I ripped the oxygen mask off my face. I unbuckled my seatbelt as the pilot engaged the emergency protocols, attempting to land us safely wherever the damn thing took us. I reached for Grant and heaved myself up, gritting my teeth as I unbuckled his belt.
We needed to get away from the front of the fucking plane.
I hoisted him onto my back and reached for Angel’s hand. Then, I tugged the two of them to the back of the plane. I slammed us into the private bedroom in the back and sat us next to the rear emergency exit. Angel was sobbing and Grant was out cold. Probably due to shock. The plane darted and dropped before I felt it tip up, and suddenly we were in a nose dive.
“Silas!” Angel exclaimed.
She fell back into the closet as the plane started its increasing descen
t. I reached for her hand and pulled her up, keeping a steady hold on Grant as I laid them both down onto the bed. I reached for the harnesses I had attached to the private king-size bed. Not what I had in mind when I had them installed, but they’d work in a pinch. I fastened both her and Grant to the mattress before I climbed on top of them, shielding them with my body as I braced myself for the inevitable crash.
I heard what sounded like the shrieking cry of a man coming to terms with his fate before a jarring stop. I flew off the mattress and slammed into the bedroom door, watching as Angel and Grant’s bodies came hurtling at me.
Then, the world went black.
Valencia
“You mean we’re not going to actually learn how to make fire today?”
“Yeah, we signed up for a class that would teach us how to make sure.”
“What a rip-off.”
“You signed up for an introduction into fire-starting,” I said.
“Yeah. You said it. ‘Fire-starting’.”
A grumble of dissent rumbled across my class as I drew in a deep breath.
“I told you at the beginning of the class that if we got to the actual fire-starting portion, we would. But we spent a great deal of time learning how to make a bow drill because that is the mode of fire-starting you requested,” I said.
“Then why didn’t you tell us that ‘mode of fire-starting’ didn’t come with actual fire-starting.”
