Her Claim: Legally Bound Book 2
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Her Claim
Legally Bound Book 2
Rebecca Grace Allen
Contents
Praise for Her Claim
Introduction
Author’s Note
Spanish Glossary
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
The Party Free Read
Thank you!
Acknowledgments
Look for these titles by Rebecca Grace Allen
His Contract
The Missing Piece
Taming Sugar
But wait, there’s more!
About the Author
Praise for Her Claim
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“As emotionally fulfilling as it is blistering.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4 star review
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“I love Allen’s voice! This story is a sexy twist on readers’ favorite erotic topes.”
—Cara McKenna, author of Willing Victim
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“HOLY SEXY, BATMAN! …Her Claim is a fabulous addition to the Legally Bound collection.”
—5 star Goodreads review
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“Hot like you’ve rarely read, frustrating and so so sweet.”
—The Book Hammock, 5 stars
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“Easily one of my favorites that I have read this year.”
—5 star Goodreads review
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“O.M.G. was it too good! It’s titillating, sexy, fascinating and a lot of fun to read!”
—5 “Pushing Boundaries” stars Goodreads review
Her Claim
She’s no princess. He’s no prince. Then again, they never wanted a fairy tale.
Legally Bound, Book 2
Cassie Allbright takes no prisoners. A half Cuban ball-busting attorney, she’s too tough to admit what she wants in bed. But tough is the only way to cut it in her high-powered firm, and Cassie doesn’t need a knight in shining armor. And she definitely doesn’t need Patrick Dunham—an arrogant, chauvinistic man-whore with a knack for pissing her off.
Bound to the helm of his family’s publishing house, Patrick is shackled to a life of power and wealth he never wanted. Seduction is his only distraction—his nights of pleasure always temporary, because happily-ever-afters are not for him. But while luring a woman into his bed has always come easy, the high-and-mighty Cassie has never succumbed to his charms.
Their verbal sparring turns to foreplay, but instead of scratching an itch, it only whets their appetites. Patrick gives Cassie a taste of what she’s secretly craved, and Cassie’s dark desires stir up things Patrick never knew he wanted. Enchanted, he offers to fulfill her most dangerous fantasies. She agrees, with an iron-clad escape clause: her heart is off-limits, and so is his.
Funny thing about hearts, though. They have a way of ignoring the fine print.
Warning: This book isn’t for the faint of heart. Disclosure includes angry, vying-for-control hate sex and one steamy weekend in Miami. Ready? Break the caution tape and proceed.
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Rebecca Grace Allen Enterprises
Her Claim
Copyright © 2018 by Rebecca Grace Allen
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9978792-7-8
Print ISBN: 978-0-9992066-5-2
Editing by Jennifer Miller
Cover Design by Romantic Book Affairs
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Author’s Note
As I said in the warning, this book isn’t for the faint of heart. It contains breath-play scenarios, consensual role play depicting non-consent and references to alcoholism. There are scenes of violence that may bother readers with past trauma. I don’t want anyone to be shocked or triggered by that, so please don’t read this book if you think it will upset you. I myself had difficulty writing it, and parts of the story are very personal for me.
I recognize that anything involving power imbalances, especially those sexual in nature, is a highly visible issue these days, and I want to be sensitive to my readers. I promise that everything the characters engage in is desired, thoroughly discussed and mutually agreed upon. And at its heart, this is a story of two people working through shame and heartbreak, and finding acceptance in themselves through one another. It’s a story about love, sex and healing.
Now that I’ve fully prepared you, play some Marvin Gaye and read on…
XOXO
Rebecca
Spanish Glossary
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Besos: kisses
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Buenos dias: good morning
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Calle Ocho: Eighth Street, the main strip of Little Havana, Miami, Florida.
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Carajo: fuck
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Churros: A fried dough pastry. Long and thick, they are often dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with sugar.
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Cojones: a man’s testicles; balls
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Conquistador: One who conquers; specifically a leader in the Spanish conquest of America and especially of Mexico and Peru in the 16th century.
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Dios mío: oh my God
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Empanadas: A stuffed bread or pastry, which is baked or fried. The stuffing can consist of a variety of meats, vegetables, or even fruits.
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Flan: An open, rimmed pastry or sponge base, containing a sweet or savory filling.
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Gente: people
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Hola: hello
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La calle: the street
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La cama: the bed
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Livin’ la vida: Living life, or living the life.
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Lo siento: I’m sorry
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Machismo: A strong, aggressive or exaggerated sense of masculine pride.
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Medianoche: Similar to a Cuban sandwich, it consists of roast pork, ham, mustard, Swiss cheese and pickles, but is made on a soft, sweet egg dough bread. It is so named because of the sandwich’s popularity as a staple served in Havana’s night clubs right around or after midnight.
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Mi amor: my love
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Mi vida: my life
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Mojito: A cocktail made of white rum, sugar cane juice, li
me juice, soda water and mint.
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Niña: little girl
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Pastelitos: Cuban puff pastries, traditionally filled with cream cheese and guava.
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Pero: but
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Querida: dear
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Quinceañera: The celebration of a girl’s fifteenth birthday.
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Sí: yes
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Tapas: Small, savory dishes, served both hot and cold.
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Tía: aunt
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Tres Leches: A sponge or butter cake soaked in three kinds of milk.
1
Cassie Allbright had never been so pissed off in her life.
Storming through the bar, she searched until she found Lilly at a table in the back, then slammed her bag down and yanked out a chair. “You would not. Believe. My day.”
“I was wondering why he’d called you in so late in the day.” Lilly passed over the blood-orange cosmopolitan she’d already ordered for her. “Talk.”
Cassie sat, lifted the glass and took a sip. Best friends were a godsend. “Schaeffer told me I was off partner track.”
Lilly’s jaw dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Wish I was.”
When she’d been summoned to their boss’s office at a quarter to six, Cassie had thought it was a sign she was finally going to receive that coveted offer of partner. That she should stay the course and keep billing. But instead, she’d been sucker-punched and told the opposite.
“What did he say?” Lilly asked.
“He told me I haven’t made myself ‘invaluable to the firm,’ since I haven’t brought in enough business.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Technically, he’s right.”
She’d worked hundreds of cases, reorganized and liquidated dozens of companies, but as a seventh-year associate, she still hadn’t landed a big matter yet—the multimillion-dollar kind with a company so completely fucked it needed an entire restructuring to stay afloat. Those always went to the male partners, a fact of life she’d grown to loathe. Cassie knew her shit as a bankruptcy specialist, but The Law Offices of Forrester, Schaeffer and Pierce were run by three old white men, and she’d been battling the gender gap and racial bias for as long as she could remember.
Lilly’s eyes were wide with concern. “Was he…?”
“Firing me? No.” Those conversations took place in HR’s fluorescent-lit cubicles, not in one of the partners’ cushy offices that overlooked Boston’s Charles River. “But he did say I should weigh my options.”
“So you can decide if you’re going to hop firms in the hopes of finding better luck elsewhere.”
“Bingo. Which is impossible without a book of business.” Cassie raised her glass. “Happy fucking Friday to me.”
Lilly wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry.”
Cassie shook her head. Someone else might’ve felt like all hope was lost. Not her.
She wasn’t depressed. She was determined. And pissed.
“Don’t be sorry. All we need is another housing bubble, a second government bailout, or for some broke dumbass who’s totally screwed his company up to ask for me personally, and I’ll be golden.” Cassie sipped her drink, waiting for the cool liquid to dial down her fury. “Will Jack be joining us tonight?”
“He’s on his way.”
Lilly lifted a hand to absentmindedly trace over the silver chain around her neck. It wasn’t a necklace, it was a collar—one that locked in the back, only able to be opened with a key her boyfriend owned. Did Lilly even call Jack her boyfriend? Her Dominant? Dom-friend? The world of trust and rules Lilly happily embraced made Cassie’s head spin.
But it was a world she wished she understood, too, and a world she remained too afraid to dip a toe in. Because the idea of acknowledging the desires she kept firmly at bay made her more nauseous than a bad day in court.
“What about Brady and Samantha?” Someone else needed to be coming because Cassie didn’t want to be the third wheel tonight.
“No Sam. Just Brady.”
“Bummer.” Jack’s younger brother Brady was comic relief in human form—or at least he had been until recently, but Cassie liked hanging out with Sam. She was the only person Cassie knew with as much of a high-heel-buying habit as her. “Are the two of them—?”
Her question was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. She fished it from her bag and growled at the missed call on screen. “Carajo.”
“Your mom?”
“How’d you know?”
“Because you always curse in Spanish when she calls.” Another sign of true friendship. They’d only been close for a year and a half, but that was enough for Lilly to have become well-versed in Flóres-Allbright family dramas. “I still remember how surprised I was when you said you were half Cuban.”
“You mean it wasn’t clear from my stubborn persistence and tendency to fly off the handle?”
“I thought those were part of your sparkling personality.”
Cassie huffed out a laugh. With her Cuban side’s unusually dominant blue eyes and her Caucasian father’s light skin, most people were shocked to discover Cassie was Latina. But since she’d moved to the Northeast, it had less to do with the way she looked and more with the way she acted.
Lilly fiddled with the straw in her drink. “You going to skip calling her back?”
“No. She’ll just try me again if I do. But I need to find someplace quieter. Be right back.”
She stood as Brady showed, waving at him before making her way to the rear of the bar where it was slightly less crowded. There was a game at Fenway tonight which meant people who hadn’t gotten tickets to the stadium next door would be here, watching on the flat-screens. For the moment, however, she was only surrounded by a few locals and a bunch of guys in Harvard crimson polos. Preparing herself for what was bound to be her second inquisition of the day, Cassie returned her mother’s call.
Three rings in, she picked up. “Hola, mi amor.”
The noise in the background had Cassie placing her mother’s surroundings immediately. The hiss and sputter of something frying in a pan. Buena Vista Social Club playing in the background. The house in Miami Cassie had grown up in hadn’t been home for twenty years, but it brought back memories nonetheless. It was as comforting as it was aggravating.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Lo siento, can you hear me?” her mother asked, bouncing back and forth between English and Spanish like she always did. “The kids are here.”
“I can hear you fine, Mom.”
“Good. I’m putting you on speaker.” There was a pause, followed by a loud, “Niños, say hello to Tía Cassandra.”
Two tiny voices responded in a sing-song, “Hola, Aunt Cassie.”
“Hola, Antonio, hola, Annalisa.”
One of the Harvard guys gave her a hard once-over, in a way she’d seen before: part shock, part accusation, part uncomfortable appreciation.
Got a problem with my Spanish, pretty boy?
Cassie shot a look at him until he glanced away. Tension coiled in the back of her neck as her mother switched the call off speaker, then began a report on everything her niece and nephew were doing. Cassie sighed and kneaded her neck with her free hand. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her brother’s kids, but Jesus Christ, couldn’t she get the CliffsNotes version or something?
“Listen, Mom, I’m in the middle of stuff. Was there something you needed?”
“Yes, yes. You’re very busy. I know.”
And those words implied what they always did. That despite being the first person in her family to go to an Ivy League college or graduate from law school, it didn’t measure up with her siblings’ choices. Cassie’s younger brother had married a nice Cuban-American girl, and her little sister was engaged to a great guy from the Dominican.