All or None

by Tara Sue Me

  However, Lance and Celeste weren’t the most unexpected couple in the world. No, that honor definitely belonged to the other couple at the table. Isaac Gregory was as much as a Type A, perfectionist as one could get. Everyone had long given up on him ever settling down because, frankly, no one thought anyone would ever meet his insanely high ideals. Then Maggie walked in, or more accurately, she walked into him. She was yin to his yang, the chaos to his control. Lillian wasn’t sure how they did it, but it somehow worked.

  In fact, Lillian couldn’t say with certainty because Maggie had been keeping her left hand in her lap for most of the night, but she thought she’d seen a quick flash of sparkle on one of the few times she brought her hand to the table.

  “I’m glad we all agreed to do this instead of the traditional bachelor and bachelorette parties,” Lance said as they finished up dinner. “Dinner with your best friends is better than getting shit-faced and doing who knows what.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Celeste said. “I wouldn’t have minded a few half-naked men dancing around.”

  “I can still make that happen,” Maggie quipped.

  “No you can’t,” Lance and Isaac said at the same time.

  Ty laughed. “I think she should do it. It’d be fun to watch.”

  “You think it’d be fun to watch a bunch of half-naked men dance?” Lillian asked him.

  “Hell, no. It’d be fun to watch Lance and Isaac,” he said, and everyone except Lance and Isaac laughed.

  “And why weren’t we able to torment you with the idea of being entertained by male strippers?” Lance asked, then slapped his head as if remembering. “Oh, that’s right, because we weren’t even invited to your wedding.”

  “It was eight months ago, Lance, and we didn’t invite anyone,” Lillian said. “Seriously, let it go.”

  Ty shrugged at his old friend. “I can’t help that I’m smarter than you.”

  “It may have been smart, but it was a shit move,” Lance said. “We’re your best friends, we wanted to celebrate with you.”

  Lance was only teasing, of course. All four of them had been thrilled when she and Ty made it back to New York and announced their newly remarried status.

  “I think it’s romantic,” Celeste said from his side with a sigh. “The two of you deciding you have to get married at once. That you can’t wait another second.”

  “Wish I’d known that before we sent out five hundred invitations for tomorrow,” Lance teased his soon-to-be wife, who punched his upper arm in response.

  “It sounds more romantic than it was,” Lillian said. “We found out that you have to wait three days to marry after obtaining a license in Florida.”

  TY slipped his arm across her shoulders. “I told her that was fine, we’d just go to Georgia. I’d always wanted to see Savannah, anyway.”

  “Except he wanted to leave that night.” Lillian rolled her eyes. “Keep in mind, he had been in the hospital just that morning, and it was a seven hour drive to Savannah. I didn’t think it’d be a good idea for him to drive, and I’d slept in a chair the night before, and didn’t trust myself to drive that long being sleep deprived. That’s not even taking into account Ty would be in charge of navigating if I drove, and we know that will never happen again.”

  “Why is that?” Maggie asked, and Isaac leaned over to whisper to her. “That sounds like something I’d do,” she said with a giggle when he’d finished.

  “Duly noted,” Isaac said. “No navigating for you.”

  “You didn’t think about flying?” Celeste asked.

  “Lillian doesn’t like to fly,” Ty explained. “Good thing you came back to the States to get married.”

  “You know, I’d have been there if you got married in London,” Lillian said. “I’d be doped up, but I’d have been there.”

  “I know you would have,” Celeste said. “By the way, I keep meaning to ask, how’s the nonprofit coming?”

  Lance and Isaac had refused to buy Ty completely out. In the end, Ty agreed to keep twenty-five percent of his share of the company, and to continue his spot on the Board of Directors. Lillian agreed it was the best deal for all concerned. Ty could keep his hands in the business and still move on with starting a non-profit with her.

  “It’s going well,” Lillian told her. “Taking more time to get it up and running, but because of the scope, we want to ensure nothing’s missed. Besides, Isaac’s on the Oversight Committee, and you know he’s picky as shit.”

  “I heard that,” Isaac said.

  “I would hope so, since you’re sitting right there,” Lillian said.

  In a surprising turn of fate, Tom would serve on the same committee. Shortly after they arrived back to New York, Lillian searched for information on the kind and unassuming gentleman who seemed to own quite a bit of property. He turned out to be Thomas Goodell, a business guru who had made a fortune in real estate, but now enjoyed giving that fortune away.

  “What else would I do with it?” he’d asked Lillian. “I never married or had any kids, and I sure was hell don’t want the government to get it when I die.”

  It only seemed right to ask him to serve on a board of their nonprofit. The Bancroft Group, as they named it, would work to bring businesses needing interns and apprentices together with people from under represented communities. They also had a plan to work with high schools to ensure graduating students had the resources to create a career plan and a definitive way to start on that plan.

  The unmistakable ping of a glass being tapped with a piece of silverware drew her attention to Lance.

  “Excuse me,” he said, standing and placing the glass and fork down.

  There hadn’t been that much chatter in the room, or at least that had been Lillian’s thinking before the absolute silence that fell upon the room when Lance stood up.

  “Wow,” he said. “I’ll have to remember how well that works to shut you guys up.”

  Isaac flipped him the bird.

  Lance laughed. “But seriously, you guys. Thank you for all you’ve done. Tomorrow wouldn’t have been possible without you. And for your information, and in case anyone was ever to ask, Celeste and I do not recommend planning a wedding from a different country.”

  Celeste nodded at his side. “A to the men.”

  “I’ve been blessed with a wonderful family, friends that are closer than family, and above all, the love of a woman who is way out of my league, but said yes to me, anyway.” He turned to the blushing woman by his side. “Celeste, I love you. You are the song I want to spend the rest of my life singing.”

  Lance bent down to kiss her.

  Lillian turned to whisper to Ty that she had no idea Lance could be so romantic, but a sparkle of reflected light caught her attention. It was Maggie, wiping her eyes with both hands. The left one sporting a brilliant diamond that wasn’t there when the two of them had lunch last week.

  “Looks like Isaac was able to convince Maggie to come around to his way of thinking,” Lillian whispered to Ty.

  Maggie, hard as it was to believe, was a widow, and had been hesitant to walk down that path again. Apparently, she’d worked through whatever had been holding her back.

  “Looks like,” Ty agreed. “It’s good to see everyone happy and settling down.”

  Lillian took his hand and thought back over the last eight months. Everything was right in her life again. “Do you think they’re as happy as you and me?”

  “Doubtful,” he murmured, closing in to kiss her. “No one could ever be that happy.”

  As his lips brushed hers, she knew he told the truth.

  FOK

  See How It All Started

  FOK: (noun) /fok/: Abbreviation for Fill-or-Kill, a term used in securities trading. To fulfill an order completely and immediately, or to not do it at all.

  * * *

  For Lance Braxton, it’s more than a trading term, it’s his motto. Do it. Do it now and do it completely or don’t do it at all. Some might see it as reckl
ess or foolhardy, but Lance doesn’t care. It’s worked for him so far. Why change a good thing?

  * * *

  As a favor for his sick grandmother, Lance sits in on auditions for the Juilliard scholarship named after his late mother. He expects to be bored out of his mind. He expects it to be a waste of a Saturday he could spend working. What he does not expect is Celeste Walsh.

  * * *

  She has the body of a super model, the looks of a storybook princess, and plays the violin with the passion of a zealous lover. The moment he sees her, he has to have her. Wants to control her. Needs to master her.

  * * *

  Celeste Walsh is running out of options. She’s been accepted into Juilliard to play the violin, but if she can’t get a scholarship, she’ll have to turn them down. And if she turns Juilliard down, she’ll have no choice but to give up the violin and work as a waitress at her family’s restaurant in Nowhereville, Virginia.

  * * *

  She’s not sure accepting the scholarship is the smartest thing to do. There’s something about the way Lance looks at her that suggests he has more than arias and scherzos in mind. However, when she inadvertently witnesses an intimate moment between him and a date, she realizes being under his control holds more appeal than she thought.

  * * *

  Lance warns her he’s an all or nothing guy and if she steps into his bedroom, he’s not holding back. It’s not until her foot crosses the threshold that she understands just how serious he is. But even if she comes to trust him with her pleasure, does she dare trust him with her heart?

  Chapter One

  In her mind, Celeste Walsh was a badass. She never backed down, never averted her gaze first, and never took shit from anyone.

  In reality, however, though she refused to be a doormat, she had yet to blossom into full-blown badassery. The closest she’d been able to get was to perfect the art of remaining utterly calm in the face of anything. Her roommate, Reagan, told her it was her superpower. Celeste had snorted and said if that was true, she wanted to exchange it for something useful, like mind reading or invisibility.

  Although, she had to admit that today this odd superpower could come in handy. She was auditioning for a scholarship, but that wasn’t anything new. In fact, this was her eleventh scholarship audition. What made this audition different was that it would be the last. Last audition. Her last hope.

  If she didn’t score this scholarship, she wouldn’t be attending Juilliard in the fall. Which would also mean no longer being able to stay in New York. She’d be on a bus headed back home to Middle-of-Nowhere Virginia. Upon arrival, her parents would put her to work, either washing dishes or bussing tables at the family’s farm to table restaurant.

  She shivered, determined to get this one.

  “Hey, Celeste,” one of her fellow applicants, Erin, said.

  Celeste smiled and greeted the young woman in a similar financial situation as her own. They’d auditioned at many of the same scholarships and had received rejections from the same ones. There were a few they hadn’t heard from yet.

  “Did you hear?” Erin asked, her eyes dancing the way they did when she wanted to share the latest juicy gossip.

  “Probably not.” Celeste rarely listened to gossip or watched the news. Her life revolved around the violin. Violin. School. Violin. She possessed little time for anything else in her life. And she didn’t apologize or make excuses for it. Especially with the new piece she planned for today's audition.

  “Barbara Murphy is in the hospital,” Erin said.

  “Really?” Celeste asked. That wasn’t gossip. Barbara Murphy headed and funded the scholarship they were auditioning for today, in memory of her daughter. Melinda Murphy had been a pianist and had also attended Juilliard years ago when she was younger. She’d died young, but Celeste wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard how. “Who’s running the audition?”

  “No one I’ve talked with knows.”

  They both turned to look at the auditorium doors. The first group to audition, vocalists, had entered only five minutes ago. It wasn’t long before the doors opened and three guys walked out.

  “Fucking asshole,” the tallest one said and the other two nodded and murmured in agreement.

  “Who’s running the audition with Mrs. Murphy in the hospital?” Someone nearby asked.

  “Her grandson,” the tall guy answered. “Some Wall Street hotshot who doesn’t know shit about the arts.”

  The trio of vocalists left amid a growing rumble of discontent. A discontent that, unfortunately, remained in their wake. However, Celeste felt no need to continue talking about the grandson she couldn’t do anything about. She retreated to her corner of the room and tried to tune out the noise around her like she always did, by picturing herself playing the violin.

  Knowing this was her last audition and one of the largest scholarships offered, she’d changed her audition piece. The composer wasn’t as well know as the ones her competition would play, nor was the piece itself known by very many outside the music world. If this grandson was as clueless as the vocalist had alluded to, should she play something more well known?

  She forced herself to breathe deep and calm. As she did, the music she needed to play made itself known. When a harried assistant called for her group, Celeste rose from her seat, lost in the calm, ready to play, and with no worries about a grandson who may or may not know the difference between a violin and a cello.

  Lance Braxton cut the violinist off after nine seconds of playing. “That’s enough. Next!”

  Beside him, his grandmother’s personal assistant, Richard, sighed and signaled for a ten minute break. Lance raised an eyebrow at him, and Richard took a deep breath before turning to address the man at his side. “Mr. Braxton, you can’t cut them off like that. You must allow them to finish playing.”

  Lance placed his pen on the table, so it lined up exactly parallel to the pad it was next to. Only when he was certain it rested precisely where he wanted, did he turn to the man his grandmother said she couldn't operate without. “Richard,” he said slowly, as if gathering his thoughts. Which he wasn’t. “Perhaps you have nothing better to do today than to sit here and listen to Tchaikovsky over and over, but some of us have actual work to do.”

  Richard opened his mouth as if he would interrupt, but Lance shot him a look that made him change his mind. “You have worked for my grandmother for three years; however, I have been her grandson for much longer. Do you understand?”

  Richard was smart enough to only nod.

  “Though I do not typically sit here and listen, I know the characteristics my grandmother requires for the recipient of the scholarship bearing my mother’s name. Therefore, if I determine an applicant has none of these characteristics, I’m doing us all a favor by not wasting time and letting that person go.”

  Lance estimated Richard cost him valuable time by putting him in a position to explain himself. He rarely explained himself. Even rarer did he do so to anyone’s personal assistant. The fact he’d just done so, and that there were people who could hear the conversation, irritated him. He needed to move this thing along. He had real work to do. Though he couldn’t deny his grandmother's request when she asked him to take her place today. His Grandmother Murphy was the one person he couldn’t tell no.

  Beside him, Richard swallowed and sweat beaded on his forehead. “Yes, Mr. Braxton. I understand.”

  Lance nodded. “You’re excused. I’ll finish up here.”

  The other man scrambled to pick up his notebook and pens. Lance waited with a patience he didn’t feel until the door closed behind the assistant his grandmother insisted was a lifesaver. He didn’t see how, but Richard wasn’t his problem. At least on most days. Today, he’d been a major pain in the ass.

  “Let’s go, people,” he said to no one in particular, knowing someone would hear and usher out the next applicant. He shuffled the papers in front of him. How many more did he have to sit through?

  The click of he
els on the stage alerted him the next applicant was in place. He pulled the information sheet he had on whoever it was. “Name?” He asked without looking up.

  “Celeste Walsh.”

  Her voice was delicate and feminine. Yet something in her tone spoke of a quietly held strength. It intrigued him and he looked up. She was stunning for lack of a better word. At some point her dark hair had been pulled up, now, however, more than a few strands had fallen free, giving her a wild and untamed appearance.

  An appearance that should have been at odds with her elegant yet subtle black floor length dress, but somehow wasn’t. In fact, her entire ensemble could be described as a hot mess. Instead she was one of the hottest women he’d seen in a long time.

  She stood waiting, the very epitome of calm, violin in hand as if she had all the time in the world. Not at all as if he held her future in his hands, which he did based upon the paper in front of him.

  He wanted to crush the paper. Because in doing so he would have no ties to the glorious creature before him. Which meant he could do any damn thing she would allow him to do to her. And he’d make sure she wanted the same things he did.

  But he couldn’t do that, so he cleared his throat and said, “Whenever you’re ready, Ms. Walsh.”

  She gave him a curt nod, closed her eyes, and played.

  He recognized the song within the first few bars, and it both impressed and surprised him. He should stop her. It was a difficult and complex piece, even for the most accomplished violinist, and he didn’t want to listen while she fucked up her chance at his scholarship. Yet, he couldn’t because that moment in time served one purpose - for Celeste Walsh to play her violin for him.