Man Seeking Woman

by Leah Holt

  MAN SEEKING WOMAN

  Leah Holt

  Copyright © 2019 Leah Holt

  All rights reserved. MAN SEEKING WOMAN is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Man Seeking Woman

  Connect with Leah!

  Also from Leah Holt:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Epilogue

  About Leah Holt

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  Also from Leah Holt:

  CHAINED: A Bad Boy Romance

  HIS PRICE: A Billionaire Romance

  MY SOLDIER: A Military Romance

  BARE SKIN: A Billionaire Romance

  BAD BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  DIRTY BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  SWEET VIRGIN

  BEG ME ANGEL: A Dark Romance

  PUSHED: A Dark Romance (Dark Flower Series Book One)

  LOVE IN THE DARK: A Dark Romance (The Dark Flower Series Book Two)

  KEEP ME: A Dark Romance

  REDD: A Dark Romance

  BEAUTIFUL LIE

  ALPHA ON TOP: A Bad Boy Romance

  ALMOST GLASS

  QUEEN OF PENTACLES (Cards Of Love)

  WHEN IT RAINS... HE POURS

  Prologue

  August

  “What the hell is this?” I asked, throwing down the papers and pointing at a clause I was unfamiliar with.

  I had seen the will periodically over the years after my father wrote it, but I didn't remember this requirement that seemed to come from nowhere. It was never mentioned, never discussed, never whispered once through a drunken slew of gobbled words.

  To say I was shocked was an understatement—I was fucking mortified.

  This has to be some type of sick joke my father decided to leave me.

  Forcing a smile, I let out a weak laugh. “Alright, wait a minute, is this some type of prank? Did my father ask you to screw with me like this?”

  “I'm a professional, August, I take these things very seriously. I don't get paid to create death jokes, the law would never go for that.”

  “If that's the case, then what the hell is this?” Twisting the paper, I pushed it in his direction.

  My father's lawyer leaned forward, pulling the papers closer and lowering his glasses down the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned the small print, as if he wasn't exactly sure where he should be looking or what he should be looking for.

  “Which clause?” he asked, his finger barely hovering over the paper, softly drifting like an abandoned boat at sea. Scrunching his brows, he moved his eyes back and forth between the fine print and my face. “There are several in here, how am I suppose to know which one you're talking about?”

  He knows, he damn well knows what the hell I'm talking about. The guy fucking typed all that shit out, every fucking word. If he was going to try and play stupid, I was going go ape shit.

  “You know which one I'm talking about. If this isn't a joke, we're going to have a problem. I want to know why it's in there and whose bright idea it was?”

  Tapping his knuckles on the paper, he peered up at me. “I'm sorry, these are the terms of your father's will, August.” Pushing the stack back towards me, he folded his hands on the desk. “Your father was very firm about having that in there.”

  “When? When was this decided and why wasn't I told?”

  Searching the ceiling, Mr. Stone leaned back, rubbing his thumbs together in thought. “We have no obligation to inform you of decisions your father made for his will. This was his idea, all him, no one else.”

  “No, no way, this isn't right.” Shaking my head, I sat back in the chair and glared at the short, arrogant, piece of shit lawyer my father had always insisted on using. “He can't do this, it has to be illegal. I'll file a petition against the court to have it changed.”

  Mr. Stone's nostrils flared as he took in a slow breath. “I won't tell you that you can't try and get it over turned, because of course you have the right to contest it. But, I will warn you that it's a long and expensive battle you'll never win.”

  “Money isn't an issue, you should know that.”

  “It won't matter, you still won't win. Your father was in perfect health when he wrote his will, he wasn't being guided or coerced into anything. This was his decision, his wishes, and that's what the court will see. I have it all documented and recorded specifically for times like this, your father knew what he was doing.”

  Fuck, he's right.

  It wouldn't matter how much I disagreed with that single line in my father's will, as long as he knew what he was doing when he wrote it, I couldn't fight shit. It was his wealth and business that was falling into my hands, but he held the power to make me work for it, even in death.

  Haven't I fucking proved myself by now?

  Growling, I snatched the papers off his desk and stuffed them back into my breast pocket. “This is bullshit and you fucking know it. Who allows such a ridiculous request? It's not right.”

  Opening his hands, Mr. Stone gave me an understanding nod. “I can see your position on this, August. All I can tell you is you don't have to like it, but you have to respect it.”

  Thinking about my options, I wondered if there were any loop holes. “What about my mother? Can't she amend this and make changes?”

  “She could have, if she was involved in the original writing, but she wasn't. And since they were divorced for years already when he wrote it, she has no legal rights to his will.”

  Son of a bitch. . .

  “So I'm screwed, is that what you're saying?”

  “No, not if you fulfill his wishes.”

  “And how the hell am I supposed to do that? Do you think I can just pull it out of thin air? Maybe I can order one off the internet, there's always someone selling something out there.”

  “Look, I'm just the messenger, that's something you have to figure out on your own. But your dad put it there for a reason, maybe you should think about why he would do something like that to begin with. Maybe there's a good reason.”

  Good reason my ass.

  Grunting, I took in a deep breath. “Why would he do this. . .” Turning my head to look out the window, I ran my thumb across my bottom lip. “If I
had all the answers, I wouldn't be here asking you about it.”

  Asking why about some grandiose idea my father had come up with was like asking why the sky was blue and why flamingos were pink. There was probably a simple answer, but it would take a whole lot of navigation to get there.

  Figuring out the way my father's brain worked was like trying to figure out why the Nazca lines existed and how they were created. People have their theories, but no one knew the truth, all anyone could do was guess.

  Maybe it's nothing more than my old man making it known that he was still in charge. . .

  My father and I didn't always see eye to eye. He had his view on things and I had mine. I tried to respect him as my boss, I tried to respect him as my father, but there were certain things I just couldn't get past.

  I hated how he rotated through women, I hated how he thought a woman on his arm showed some type of status to the rest of the world. I despised him for choosing a life of freedom over having his family. My father preferred disposable women to a family that loved him unconditionally.

  And for some reason, one I'll never get an answer to, my father decided to force me into a life I avoided. Relationships were too much work, with too much baggage and too little space. Love wasn't a real thing. Love was a fictional emotion that people created just to have a reason to not be alone.

  Jerrod Burke was a life long bachelor, so why wouldn't he want the same for me?

  I had no clue how the hell I was going to do this or if I even wanted to.

  But if I wanted what was rightfully mine, then I really didn't have a choice.

  Everything I deserved, and wanted, and earned, depended on this one thing.

  It was time to plant my seed.

  Chapter One

  Ella

  Bill, bill, bill.

  Flipping through the envelopes, final notice after final notice speared my brain. Tossing them onto the counter, I watched the dollar signs add up and my bank account go into the negative range.

  Reaching the last envelope, it was hard not to see the large red stamp that read, 'Urgent Open Immediately.' Inhaling a large breath of air, I held it in as I slid my finger through the flap, peeling the edge away from the paper.

  What's this one going to say?

  In the back of my mind I knew it wasn't going to be a light and cheery letter. They wouldn't be offering me free money and I didn't have any rich, long lost relatives who left me their millions.

  Unfolding the paper, I pressed my back against the counter as I let out the air I had been holding onto and started to read it.

  Dear Ms. Day,

  This letter is a formal notice that we are taking action due to recent lack of payment. Currently your balance due is in excess of ninety days. We are left with no choice but to send this information to collections. If you would like to dispute this claim, please contact Finley Collection Agency during their normal business hours. . .

  The letter went on, but I didn't bother reading it any further. Folding it back up, I stuffed it into the torn envelope and threw it down on the counter.

  It didn't matter what they chose to do, I wasn't going to dispute a damn thing, because they were right. I hadn't been paying all my bills like I should have, chosing to pay what I could when I could.

  That was the recent story of my life. School loans, credit cards, rent, and everyday expenses were becoming too much for me to handle. But I wasn't ready to stick my tail between my legs and go back home.

  Pushing the stack of bills away, I rested my elbows on the counter and pressed my fingertips against my temples. My head was already pounding with an angry headache and my stomach was tumbling with rocks I couldn't get rid of.

  I felt defeated.

  Something needs to give. I'll take anything at this point.

  After graduating college, I had spent the last year looking for steady work. Had I known at the time that having a music degree would leave me struggling to find a job and with a hoard of school debt, I might have opted for a different major.

  It was easy to think that now after so many failed attempts to get a permanent teaching position. Even a chance to work at the school of my dreams seemed impossible at this point.

  I had been stuck filling in as a substitute. Which would be fine if there were dozens of teachers calling out regularly or going out on some sort of medical leave, but it wasn't like that. The teachers around here were like fucking machines, and there were a ton of other substitutes in the area already, all of us vying for the limited open spots that popped up on occasion.

  It came down to experience and regular facetime at the schools. Both of which I didn't have compared to the other teachers around me. Factor in that I was a music teacher, and opportunities dwindled by the dozen.

  My dream was, and always had been, to teach at Juilliard. That was the whole point of moving to New York in the first place. But my dream far out weighed the reality, it was a smack in the face. Juliard hadn't called, and I didn't know if they ever would.

  So, here I was, picking up random shifts when I was lucky enough to snag one, just trying to make ends meet. But, as all the bills liked to remind me, my debt had outgrown my income. New York was expensive.

  Grabbing the newspaper I had picked up the day before, I dropped into the worn chair in my living room, and stared off out the window. The city was still lit brightly, and I could see the Hudson River, glittering under the moon between the two buildings across the street.

  The first night in my apartment, I remembered having a smile on my face that I couldn't get rid of as I looked out my window. Tonight there was no hint of a grin at all.

  My mind was spinning with ways to make enough money to pay my bills and not have to give up on my dream. I could hear my mother's voice in my ear, warning me that this move was too risky and I should really reconsider my decision.

  She wanted me to stay closer to home, taking some time to get teaching experience in my hometown, then make this move once I had my shit straight.

  I wouldn't hear it, I was convinced that I'd get my chance to perform at Juilliard and they'd be begging me to start teaching the next day. . . I couldn't have been more wrong.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  I was too proud to listen and too determined to show her I knew what I was doing. Music was all I ever wanted to do with my life, and this was where I thought I belonged.

  My phone pinged, pulling me out of the daze I was in. Picking it up, I looked at the message.

  You busy?

  It was my best friend, Kayla, and I was relieved. For a second, I thought it was my mother, because for some unknown reason, whenever I thought of her, it was like she could sense it, and I'd see her name on my phone.

  'Nope, just got home. What's up?' I texted back.

  'It's Justin, he's being a prick. I don't know what to do anymore.' Kayla's message lit up my screen and instantly I felt annoyed. Not with her, but with the douchebag boyfriend she claimed was her world.

  'Sorry to hear that.' Rolling my eyes as I typed, I started to type more about how I already knew he was an asshole, but I decided to leave that part out.

  'I've been telling you he's no good, what happened this time?' I asked, knowing that was much less combative and wouldn't upset her any more than she already was.

  If he was being a dick, she didn't need me to jump on her either.

  'He thinks I only go to work to hit on other guys. He just stormed off, pissed, and acting like a tool. In the mood for some company? I really don't want to be alone right now.'

  It was almost ten at night, and I had caught a lucky break, landing a half-day shift at the elementary school up on West Seventy-seventh the next morning. But, Kayla was my best friend, I couldn't turn her away when she needed me.

  'Of course, come on over. I have a fresh bottle of red with your name on it.'

  'Done.' Her text came through and I didn't have to wait long for her to show up. My bell buzzed ten minutes later.

 
Pushing the button to let her in, I waited with my door open, watching the elevator. The doors opened, and I could tell instantly she was about to burst into tears. She had probably been holding them in since she left her apartment.

  Her eyes were swollen and red, her jet black hair was sticking to her face where it was still damp from the tears she had already cried. Wearing gray sweat pants and a pink tank-top, she carried herself like her entire world had just imploded while she was on her way home from the gym.

  Oh, Kay, he's not worth a single tear.

  "Come here," I said, keeping my thought to myself and holding out my arms to her. It didn't matter how much I hated her boyfriend, if she needed my shoulder, she could have it.

  Kayla sludged forward, her shoulders rolling sadly as she wiped her nose. "I don't know what to do, he's jealous over nothing. He said we're done, that he can't deal with it anymore." Her body started shaking as the tears came down hard, so I hugged her tighter.

  "Shh, it's alright." Rubbing her back, I guided her inside my apartment. "You know what I think, I think he's just an insecure jackass who doesn't know a good thing when it's staring him right in the face."

  Her breathing was heavy as she lifted her face to look at me. "Yeah, but you're supposed to think that, you're my best friend." Her tears thinned as she sniffled and tried to give me a smile.

  Ripping a paper towel off the roll, I passed it to her. "Here, wipe easy, this is all I have. I only allow the elite and Chris Pratt to use my aloe vera infused tissues."

  That got a giggle as she dabbed her nose. "Thanks, not only do I have to deal with this mess, but my best friend will draw blood to save the nose of the Star Lord."

  "You bet your ass. You have seen him right? Can you blame me?"

  "The day he's in your apartment, using your tissues, is the day pigs start shitting gold."

  We both started laughing and it eased the tension in Kayla's body. Relaxing against my counter, she gripped the edge. "So, I heard there was red wine? I mean, I didn't actually come here to see you. You know that, right?"

  "If I didn't use you for your incredible taste in clothes and shoes, I might actually be offended by that. But, I think we both deserve this." Grabbing some glasses, I pulled out the bottle of wine from the small rack in the bottom cupboard, and started opening it up.