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Hard as Stone
MJ Masucci
Hard as Stone © 2019 MJ Masucci
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All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Hard as Stone
Austin is everything I could want, but nothing I should need.
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At the top of one of the largest media production companies in Hollywood, people wrongfully assume I have it all, including me.
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That is until I meet Austin Doyle.
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I thought vacation would be a safe place to let my guard down, but when sun, sand, and solitude chip away at my hard exterior, I make the mistake of falling for his charms.
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Austin is a beautiful distraction, but with him comes a scarred heart and a few dark secrets.
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The moment I put my position over his love, everything starts to fall apart, and I’m not sure we can put the shattered pieces back together.
1
My annoyance is at an all-time high. I once again scream into the intercom for my assistant, Marina. I’m positive the entire office can hear my screeching, but I don’t give a shit. They know how I am, a hardnosed bitch. I hear the whispers and comments when my staff think I’m out of earshot.
Seconds later, Marina finally comes breezing through my door, all five foot two of her. She’s out of breath and holding a stack of manila folders in her arms, biting her full bottom lip. It’s obvious I scared her. Good. I’ve managed to retain my throne as the Ice Queen of Los Angeles.
I stood up as she entered, placing my hands flat on the desk while leaning forward. “Where the hell were you?”
Marina stammered, “I-I-I was getting the files you requested.” She plunked them down on the corner of my large mahogany desk and backed away as if I would lunge at her.
I gritted my teeth while maintaining my stance. “I told you not to leave your desk unless you let me know.”
She looked at the floor as she slumped her shoulders. “I apologize, but I wanted to get you these folders before you left.”
“Speaking of which…where is my itinerary?”
She peeked up at me, her face tight with fear. “I sent it to your e-calendar. Did you not receive it?”
The fact was, I hadn’t checked. I made Marina wait, not saying a word to her while I checked my calendar on both my laptop and phone.
I shot her a dismissive glance. “It’s here. You can go.”
“Yes, Miss Stone.”
I watched as Marina turned on her black heels and slinked out of my office. I was in a foul mood, and sometimes, it gave me perverse pleasure to torture my staff. The fact is, I was miserable and lonely, but it was my own doing.
For the past three years, I’ve run Spotlight Media with an iron fist. I was put here for a reason because my reputation preceded me. I was an up and comer at Mountain Top Media when the board at Spotlight made me an offer with so many benefits and perks; I would be a fool to refuse.
I slipped into the position to replace the former disgraced CEO, Wilmer Laudon, who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. With mounting lawsuits concerning his harassment of women and a few men, it was time for Spotlight to cut ties. They hired me because they needed a strong female to take the helm and right the ship. I did it in less than two years. Profits are up, way up, and actors no longer fear that they need to be on guard when entering a meeting with the CEO.
After today, I’ll be on a glorious two-week vacation in the Maldives. No bullshit, no whining actors, directors or agents to nag me, just sun, beautiful ocean, and peace. Peace is what I crave but get so little. I finish clearing my desk and find two envelopes I forgot to give Marina to mail. For years, ever since the incident, which gives me nightmares and prevents me from trusting men, I’ve donated to a women’s crisis center. The other donation is to the Los Angeles Animal Rescue.
It would probably surprise people that I love animals since my life is - well, medicinal and cold. Colors are not my strong suit, and I wear outfits in a very tight spectrum of brown, black, and gray. I believe several of my subordinates call them frumpy and lifeless. My business attire is what it is because I don’t want to give men ideas. I hide my breasts under blouses buttoned up to my neck and suits one size bigger, so they hang on my petite frame.
Marina is sitting at her desk when I exit my office, looking as scared as when she slinked away. She looks up at me, waiting for my next assault. I’m sure she’s holding her breath since her chest no longer is expanding and contracting. I drop the envelopes on her desk among the folders, files, and paperwork. My foul mood has decreased some since our last exchange, or I would question the chaos.
I gesture to the letters. “I need you to mail these.”
She plucks them off the desk, and I can see a hint of a smile. “I’ll bring them to the mailroom after you leave.”
“Thank you, Marina. You can leave for the evening.”
“Have a nice vacation,” she calls as I walk away.
I turn my head to look at her. “Please only contact me with emergencies; otherwise, don’t.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I wince when she says ma’am, it makes me feel like an old woman and Marina is only four years younger than me.
“Goodnight.”
I can almost hear the shouts of rejoice when I enter the elevator and the doors shut. I’m sure the atmosphere around the office will be much more relaxed now that the Ice Queen is away. Let the staff have their fun because when I get back, their lives will be back to normal, my normal.
My footsteps echo on the light stone of the foyer as I enter my home in the hills of Los Angeles. It’s large, too large for one person, with several bedrooms and plenty of space. Sterile is what some might call it. As with my clothing, the color scheme is dull, black, and white. I rarely spend time in any rooms other than my bedroom.
A maid comes four times a week to clean because I need order and a dirt-free environment. My gleaming stainless-steel refrigerator rarely has food inside, and most of the time, the only things that graced the glass shelves are wine and water bottles. Before I head upstairs to finish packing, I pour myself a glass of white wine into a large crystal goblet and search out a granola bar in the pantry.
I’ve been to the Maldives several times, and I keep going back because of the impeccable service and solitude. On the outside, my life might seem like it’s all glamour and parties, but it’s not. I’m lonely, and I blame myself. My past experiences have turned me into a bitch.
A man hasn’t graced my bed in several years even though there are plenty of takers. That’s what men are, takers. I can’t be bothered. There are plenty of other ways to find satisfaction. Mine sits in my nightstand and doesn’t talk back when I want to come.
The worst part of my trip to Gili Lankanfushi is the flight. Many hours on the plane has my muscles aching, even with the comfortable seats in first class. The weather was perfect when I disembarked at Male International Airport, sunny with not a trace of a cloud in the sky.
A white limo w
as waiting for me at the curb after I retrieved my suitcase. I was out of work mode and dressed casually in a flowing green pastel dress. It fluttered in the gentle breeze as the driver opened the door for me. I breathed a sigh of relief as we pulled away from the curb, happy to be in what I considered paradise. The drive to the resort only took fifteen minutes, and there, staff greeted me at the entrance to the villas where I would be staying.
“Miss Stone, pleasure to see you back.”
Anaan, a short Indian man with thinning black hair transported me and my bags to the villa in a three-seat golf cart. He serviced my villa when I was here last January and the January before that.
I yawned, tired from the hours on the plane. “Thank you, Anaan. It’s lovely to be back. Is the weather good for the next few days?”
He nodded, standing with his hands folded in front of him. “Yes, beautiful according to the reports. I hope you had a nice trip.”
I gave another yawn, placing my hand over my mouth. “It was long, but I have almost two weeks to recuperate.”
“Do you need instructions on anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Zeena will be taking over from me in three hours at five. She’ll take your dinner order.”
“Perfect.”
He nodded again and exited through the heavy wooden door. After he shut it, I looked around the large thatched roof hut which sat above the water on thick pilings. The place was gorgeous and the sea, turquoise blue, almost the same color as my eyes. I plopped down on the red cushioned bamboo couch and looked at the fish through the thick glass section of flooring below my feet. This was the life.
I rose to look outside and decided to change into one of my bikinis and lie in the hammock suspended over the water. I’d brought several, for each day of the week and settled on a bright pink one which barely covered my ass. I was feeling daring the day I went out and made the purchase. I might as well try to get some color and brighten the ghostly pallor of my skin.
I slipped it on and looked at myself in the mirror. My body was taut and athletic from many hours spent in the gym. I slathered myself with coconut scented suntan lotion and slipped on a pair of oversized sunglasses then climbed into the hammock, a contraption made of stretchy rope with the bounce of a trampoline.
The hot sun felt good on my skin, and the heat, gentle breeze, and the sound of the water lulled me to sleep. I woke an hour later moving the chaise lounge on the deck to sun my back. Splashing at the villa next door piqued my interest and I noticed a man with dark hair swimming toward his deck, his strong arms slicing through the crystal-clear water. This place was perfect for a honeymoon, and before I went back to sleep, I wondered if he was on his.
I spent the next two days lazing around dressed in minimal clothing. Bathing in the huge tub that faced the ocean was one of my favorite things to do, and I spent an hour there just before bed. I slept in the nude, stretching my body to the four corners of the king-sized bed. My skin was starting to turn golden brown from the hours sunning myself.
The man next door seemed to be alone. He too spent hours out on the open deck, reading and swimming. He was handsome and fit. It had been a long time since I was attracted or felt anything for the opposite sex. I watched him behind my dark sunglasses as a distraction from the scripts I was reading.
On the third day, I put on a pair of shorts and rode one of the bamboo bikes to the central part of the island to pick up a few supplies from the resort store. I knew I could have requested Anaan or Zeena to get them for me, but I was feeling restless. On the way back, I passed by the villa the man was occupying. He was standing out front, shirtless, wearing only a pair of light blue shorts. He grinned, showing me his straight white teeth. I pretended to ignore him by looking down at the gray deck boards below my tires.
Hours later, while I sat on the deck in the late afternoon, a splash diverted my attention to next door, and I saw the man swimming toward my deck, which made me remove my sunglasses. He popped his head up as he grasped onto the stairs, which led from the water.
I frowned as he ascended them. “Can I help you?”
He gave me a lopsided grin, “Just coming by to say hello. Permission to come up?”
I pursed my lips before I answered, sliding my sunglasses back on. “If you must.”
“You can say no.”
“Don’t you have a girlfriend to occupy?”
“I came here for peace.”
He hauled himself up the stairs and stood dripping on my deck. His body was beautiful, with well-defined abs on his sculpted torso. He was wearing the same light blue swim trunks I’d seen him in earlier in the week. They clung to his legs and framed a rather large bulge in between his legs. I was glad to be wearing sunglasses so he couldn’t see my examination.
“Can I ask why you stopped over?”
He swiped his dripping dark hair back. “I’m a little bored. I thought we could chat.”
“Chat?”
He raised one eyebrow, “You don’t like to make conversation?”
“If you must.”
He smiled. “I’m Austin Doyle.” He extended his hand, and I pulled the towel from behind my head and threw it to him.
As he wiped himself, I introduced myself. “I’m Samantha Stone.”
“Thank you for the towel. May I sit?”
“Help yourself.”
He sat at the edge of the lounger next to mine. “This is my second time here, and I thought I would be able to deal with two weeks alone. Last time I came with someone, and I remember it being a lot more fun.”
“This is my third time, and I always come alone.”
He placed the towel on the back of the chaise. “Aren’t you bored?”
“No. I rather enjoy the solitude. It’s beautiful here.”
He rose from the chair and began to head to the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
“Sit back down, Mr. Doyle.”
“Austin, please.”
“Then sit back down, Austin.”
He grinned as he sat back down next to me. “You must be a boss.”
I smiled, “How did you know?”
“You have that commanding way about you.”
“I try my best. It’s not easy in my business.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? What business are you in?”
“Film production.”
“What a coincidence, I’m a writer.”
I removed my sunglasses again and leaned toward him, “Really? For who?”
“I’ve had some articles published, but I teach creative writing at USC.”
“You’re from Los Angeles?”
“I live in Los Angeles. Where do you hail from?”
“San Diego, but I live in Los Angeles.”
He stroked the dark stubble on his chin. “Which company do you work for?”
I didn’t want him to know I was CEO of Spotlight International. I preferred to remain anonymous in that regard. He would probably look me up once he got back to his villa. “It doesn’t matter.”
He chuckled. “I promise I won’t hold it against you.”
I laughed. “It’s not important. I want to forget work while I’m on vacation.”
“I have to agree. Do you want to have dinner with me? I hate eating alone.”
I glanced at my watch sitting on the side table next to me. “It is about that time. I can call. Do you want to check the menu?”
“You should come back to my villa so I can pay. I invited you.”
I smiled, “Does it bother your masculine sensibilities if I pay?”
Austin shook his head. “Not at all, as long as I can return the favor for lunch or dinner another time.”
“Works for me.”
“Let’s see the menu.”
After Austin chose his meal, and I phoned it in, I caught his gaze traveling over my body. Today, I’d worn a bright orange bikini that had a thong for a bottom
. My tanned ass was on full display. I scowled at him, and he looked away, but his gaze heated me in a way I had not felt in a long time.
I rose from the lounger, “You should change, I am.”
“Can I use your front door? I prefer not to get wet again.”
“Help yourself. The staff said a half hour, so be back here by then.”
Austin walked to the front door and gently closed it as he left. His footsteps thumped against the deck that connected the villas as he walked away. When he was gone, I went to my bedroom and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. My body looked great; there was nothing to make me feel ashamed.
I took a quick shower to wash off the suntan lotion and put on a pale-yellow sundress. I chose to wear my golden hair down and combed it until it was almost dry. By then, Austin was knocking on the door. He dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a loose-fitting blue tank top that showed off his muscular arms and shoulders. His thick wavy black hair was combed back and still damp.
I wasn’t paying full attention earlier, but now I noticed he had sexy amber eyes with the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. He smiled as I gestured him in and handed me a bottle of chilled white wine.
“I have wine.”
“This is a gift. I would never come empty handed as a guest.”
I nodded, “Nice to hear you have manners.”
He cleared his throat, “Some men do. I was brought up to treat a woman with respect.”
“This isn’t a date.”
Austin frowned. “I never said it was, but I would like to be friends.”
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 164
