SILENCED MEMORIES
Brittney Sahin
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Silenced Memories
By: Brittney Sahin
Published by: EmKo Media, LLC
Copyright © 2015 EmKo Media, LLC
This book is an original publication of Brittney Sahin.
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Editor: Sarah Norton, Chief Editor, WordsRU.com
Cover Designer: ebooklaunch.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
eBook ISBN:
ISBN-13: 978-0-9966680-2-6
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9966680-6-4
Hidden Truths Books
Silenced Memories
Innocence & Betrayal
Chapter One
What am I doing here? Kate brought the chilled martini glass to her lips, and her eyes locked onto her reflection. The long mirror behind the bar gave her a clear view of the action. The skinny, red-bearded man sitting next to her burned holes in her dress with his ashy eyes. His stalker-like gawking had caused a steady stream of red flags to pop up in her head.
“You here alone?”
Kate glanced in the direction of Mr. Red Beard. “Yeah,” she responded, before turning her attention back to her martini.
“That’s surprising.” He shifted in his seat to get a better view of her face. “You like this place?”
“It’s okay.” Kate kept her eyes trained on her drink.
“I take it you’re not from around here?”
“No.”
“Thought so.”
What’s that supposed to mean? She wrinkled her brow and shook her head. She was never one to fly solo at a club, but it had been months since she’d gone out. Her work schedule had been so busy that she found herself starved for the feeling that dancing gave her. Loud thumping club music had a way of syncing with the rhythm of her heartbeat, which always caused a tingling sensation throughout her body, mimicking chills—the good kind.
And after the long, nightmare of a day she’d had traveling from New York City to Charlotte, she needed to let loose. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering what she had done to deserve a year’s dose of bad luck all rolled into one hellish day.
The fact that she had not only missed her flight, but spilled coffee on her new blouse, was forced to take a later flight where she had to sit next to someone who reeked of stale cigarettes, and—oh yeah—her hotel had been overbooked, made her wonder if she should never have agreed to tomorrow’s meeting. Maybe her dad was right when he’d told her not to go.
“You care to dance?” Mr. Red Beard’s hand grazed her leg.
Kate’s eyes flashed open, and she jerked at his icy touch, which had her almost falling off her stool in a not-so-graceful manner. She rose to her feet, feeling more comfortable standing away from him. “Who does that?” She squinted at him and drew her mouth into a straight line.
His gray eyes combed over her chest as his tongue peeked out of his mouth and slid across his bottom lip. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here.”
Her lips puckered as she grabbed her drink and retreated without uttering a reply. She tugged at the hem of her dress as she edged closer to the dance floor, feeling the need to cover the area where his hand had been.
Sipping her martini, she watched the attractive men and women shuffle around the floor, dancing to the beat of a new Calvin Harris remix. Her head tilted back, allowing the music to wash over her like waves licking the silky sands of the beach. She looked down at her heels and noticed that she was moving in place like an idiot. She rarely—actually, never—went dancing by herself. She abhorred the idea of some creep grinding up against her. It was always best to shield herself with a group of girlfriends, to keep the onslaught of male testosterone at bay.
But she wanted to dance. No—she needed to dance, to unwind the ball of nerves that wrapped, twanging, around the organs in her body.
She took a step closer to the dance floor, attempting to strip away the self-consciousness that lurked beneath her hot pink sheath dress.
Her hesitations melted away as a song she loved blasted through the club. She finished her martini and set it on a nearby table, deciding that she would no longer be a spectator of the men and women who moved to the music.
She walked onto the dance floor and allowed her body to drift with the beat. Her eyes shut, and the music pulsed through her body, electrifying her senses. She danced like she was alone in the room, the music reverberating through her soul.
After twenty minutes of dancing, she jumped a little when someone pressed up against her from behind. She turned to face the man who was intruding on her personal space. Although he was attractive in a dark haired, haunted, wiry sort of way, she had no interest in rubbing against some Adam Levine lookalike. She creased her brow and shook her head.
He held his hands up and moved away from her.
Message received.
Just as she turned away to continue dancing, she caught sight of someone at the bar. Not the creepy, red-bearded man, but someone else. He was muscular, blonde, and sitting with his hands on his lap at the edge of the bar. His eyes were on her. But she couldn’t get a read on much more than that. It wasn’t the leer that she had become so accustomed to, that she had come to dread. But it could be hard to tell, after all, in a crowded club lit by spastic neon lights.
She shut her eyes, hoping the eerie sensation that filled her gut would dissipate.
When she opened her eyes, the man was gone, but she was no longer in the mood to dance. The man served as a reminder why she shouldn’t be out in an unknown city by herself. Of course, she wasn’t new to the club scene, but she’d come out into this new city, with no social safety net . . .
What had she been thinking?
Kate looked down at her watch and then tilted her head up in contemplation, wondering if it was too late for another drink with an early morning meeting. Noticing Mr. Red Beard was out of sight, she brushed away a loose strand of long, blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail and decided to have a second drink.
“French martini, please.” Kate leaned forward to shout at the oh-so-cute but way-too-young bartender. She shifted in her four-inch, nude heels, which she was beginning to regret, and checked her cell phone. Two missed calls from her father. She would have to call him back after her meeting tomorrow.
“Kathryn?” the spiky-haired bartender said, eying the credit card she placed before him. He shook his head and slid the card back to her. “No need.”
She followed his pointed finger to find a fifty-something-year-old martini buyer, who gave her a slight nod before offering her a toothy grin. At least it wasn’t the strange guy who had been watching her dance moments earlier. Or Mr. Red Beard. She pressed her lips together in a polite smile but prayed he wouldn’t attempt to join her. Maybe if she just turned away . . .
She slammed into what felt like a con
crete post. What the! The contents of her glass sloshed and cascaded over her wrist and onto a dark-gray, luxuriously soft fabric. She looked up at a stranger, who stared back at her with the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” Once she was able to steal her eyes away from his, she gulped.
Oh shit. It can’t be. The ‘oh-so’ solid and stunning man was her eight o’clock appointment tomorrow. Well, he was the brother of her appointment, at least. She’d only seen photos of him, but there was no doubt in her mind that he was Michael Maddox.
Her bad day had just turned into a colossal nightmare.
“Let me pay for your shirt,” she offered in a small voice.
He stared into her soft, blue-green eyes for a moment. “That won’t be necessary. Let me get you a drink to replace yours,” he suggested with a deep and silky voice.
She kept her eyes on his, feeling lost for words, which wasn’t normal for her. She knitted her brow as her lips drew together. Seriously? I seriously had to spill my drink on Michael freaking Maddox? “I insist on paying for your shirt. I—I think my martini ruined it.” As she reached for her purse, he placed his large hand over hers. His touch warmed her entire body.
“What can I get you?” he asked again, pushing back a brownish-black lock that had escaped the gel of his purposefully unruly hair.
His gaze penetrated deep into her eyes, and his lips parted. He edged closer to her, and she breathed his smell. It was damn good.
Her mind raced but came to no helpful conclusions. Her lips remained in a straight line, her chest rising and falling just enough to give her away.
“Michael, sweetie, I thought that was you.” A woman with long, thick black hair, perfectly honeyed skin, and large brown eyes placed her manicured hands on Michael’s shoulder while glancing at Kate with mild disinterest.
Michael kept his attention on Kate, ignoring the goddess behind him. Was he waiting for her to speak? What was she supposed to say?
“Michael?” Her clipped voice rang sharp in Kate’s ears. The woman touched Michael’s face, attempting to guide it toward her, ignoring Kate like she was but a statue decorating the posh nightclub. Michael finally turned toward the woman, a look of annoyance painted on his face.
Freed from his gaze, Kate turned and hurried out of the club.
She couldn’t believe she turned into such a meek and pathetic mouse in the presence of the illustrious Michael Maddox. She’d worked with plenty of powerful and good-looking men before, but God, Michael Maddox was in a league of his own.
She hoped to hell he wouldn’t be at the meeting tomorrow. Of course, if she landed the job, she’d have to work with him eventually . . .
Damn, my bad luck.
Chapter Two
Kate sipped a latte as she walked from Starbucks to Maddox’s building in the epicenter of town. It was about ten minutes before eight a.m., and she soaked in the sun as it slipped between the nearby buildings and splashed on her arm.
She stopped outside the tall glass building that housed Maddox’s office.
The doorman tipped his head in greeting to Kate before opening the door. “How you doing, Miss?”
His Southern accent washed over her, warming her like the sun. People were so much nicer here than in New York. “I’m wonderful. And you?”
“Better now.” The older man laughed and shut the door behind Kate as she entered the large lobby of the building.
Kate stopped in front of the mirrored elevator doors and waited among the gathered men in suits. Looking at her reflection, she found herself wondering whether she should have opted for her classic black heels instead of bold red pumps. She took in a deep breath and pressed her nervous palms over her black and white, sleeveless Calvin Kline dress.
As the elevator doors dinged and opened, her phone buzzed in her purse. Not now, Dad. She couldn’t handle talking to him right before the meeting. She knew what he would say. She ignored the call and turned off her phone as she stepped with weak knees into the elevator.
Why am I so nervous? Oh yeah, I had a horrible day yesterday and spilled a drink on a mega millionaire.
But she was a professional. She ran a multimillion dollar events planning business and had a fantastic track record with clients, although Maddox would be the biggest client she had landed to date. And the sexiest. His insane good looks had haunted her all night as she tossed and turned in her bed.
Get out of my head.
When the elevator doors opened, Kate entered a bright white lobby, which boasted beautiful splashes of color in the modern art that hung on the walls.
“Hi, I have an eight o’clock appointment with Julia Maddox.” She eyed the secretary, wondering why a pretty young woman felt the need to wear such over-the-top makeup.
The secretary studied her and picked up the phone. “Julia, your appointment is here,” she said with a thick, Southern accent, one that Kate had to assume was from deeper south than Charlotte. The woman waved her hand in silence, gesturing for her to have a seat in the lounge area.
“Thank you.” Kate placed her bag by the chair and attempted to get comfortable. She looked out of the large wall of windows to her left to see the corporate Bank of America building towering beside her.
“Kate!” Julia’s voice rang clear through the lobby.
Kate’s attention shifted as she rose to her feet. Julia Maddox was an impressive woman, just like her brother. Tall and lean, but with curves just where they should be. Her long, black hair settled in soft waves to mid-back, and her bold, blue eyes lit up the room.
“Hi,” Kate responded, reaching for Julia’s outstretched hand.
“I’m so glad you made the trip here. Thank you so much.” She smiled, exposing her very white, very straight teeth. “Cindy, hold my calls for the morning,” she instructed the secretary. “Please, come with me, Kate. Can I get you some coffee or tea?”
“I’m fine, but thank you,” Kate replied as they stopped outside the door to Julia’s office. The wall was completely made of glass, and the room was swank, mirroring the contemporary furnishing and colorful abstracts from the hall. Kate glanced down the hallway and wondered where Michael’s office was—was he in the building? Panic and nerves tangled in her throat until she forgot to breathe. What in the hell is wrong with me? She swallowed and stepped inside.
“Have a seat.” Julia motioned for her to sit down at a large, wrought-iron-framed table near the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I know you mentioned on the phone your schedule is pretty jammed, so I really appreciate you taking the time to come here.”
“Hosting an event for the Maddox Group would be an honor.” Kate opened her bag and retrieved her tablet.
Julia looked out the window and back at Kate. “I know I didn’t give you too many details on the phone, but I’m in a bit of a bind. My brother Michael fired the last three event planners—the best in the area. Our company has locations in both New York and Charlotte, however, and we really need someone who can spearhead events in both locations.” She paused and set her hands on the table. “Kate, when I read that article on you in The New York Times last week, I just knew you were the one.” She shot Kate a contagious smile. “It’s no small thing to get that kind of recognition. And I have to admit, I see myself in you.”
The New York Times had recently done a feature story on successful business owners who were women under the age of thirty.
“I love what you’ve done with the business since you took over for your mom.”
“Stepmom,” Kate corrected.
Julia nodded. “You expanded to Boston, and I understand you are even contemplating opening a third spot here in Charlotte.” Julia clasped her hands on the table and leaned forward, somehow maintaining her poise.
“I’m thinking about it.” Would three locations be too many? She wanted to give Charlotte a chance. “May I ask . . . why now? Mr. Maddox is not exactly known for throwing lavish social events.”
“You’re right. He de
plores the idea of even attending fundraisers or balls, let alone hosting one.” She inhaled before releasing what appeared to be an exhausted breath. “Michael hasn’t actually agreed to have the event. Not yet, at least.”
Kate’s shoulders arched forward just enough to show her obvious surprise.
“Michael believes in paying it forward, but he doesn’t like to get the media involved—to take advantage of the spotlight. I assume you know, but Michael was in the Marines, part of a special operations team. He’s been a civilian for five years now. And in his time home, he’s witnessed a lot of veterans struggling.” She rose to her feet and glanced out the window. “Three years ago, he launched a small business initiative for veterans. He’s very passionate about his projects, but it would be nice to garner support for our vets from others as well.” She spun around to face Kate. “I have already sent the invitations and secured a location for the gala. It’s scheduled to occur one week from tomorrow.”
Kate tried to hide her shock. She couldn’t expose any chink in her armor. But was Julia really expecting her to pull an event together with such lightning speed? And for a man who didn’t even want to host it? “Are you serious?” she finally asked.
“Kate, you’ve worked miracles before. I did my research on you after I read that article. You can pull it together, and I’ll help. Between the two of us, I believe we can convince Michael to agree to the fundraiser, and then I’d like to see a replica of the event in New York, soon, as well.” Julia crossed her arms. “Michael’s shouldering a burden that neither of us could understand, and he’s wearing himself out,” she said with a sigh. “He’s always working. Always stressed. He needs help, but he’s stuck in this idea that people should help because it’s the right thing to do, not because it’s a PR opportunity. He doesn’t even want the public to know about his good work.”
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