Take My Heart: A Steamy Romantic Suspense Novel

by J. J. Sorel

  “How was she going to get back at Justin through me?” I asked, blowing my nose.

  “I’m not sure even she knew. But when Aggie learned of Bronson’s false incarceration, she became justifiably furious. She needed a way into that family, and the only way—at least, the only way that satisfied her love of the dramatic—was through you. We discovered you were seeking employment, and the rest is history, as they say.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “But why the painting?”

  “To whet your appetite for adventure.”

  “How were you to know that I wouldn’t run away? I mean, there were times when I did consider that.”

  “By paying you generously.” He paused. “Also, Aggie knew of your creative inclinations. She sensed that you’d be too curious not to return. Aggie also loved theatrics. It kept her going.” He chuckled. The way his eyes misted over at recalling Aggie’s quirks revealed his devotion to her.

  I released a tight breath and gazed at Bronson, who sat back in his armchair with his legs crossed. His face was relaxed, while those sultry chocolate eyes beamed back at me.

  David said, “I’ll give you some time to think it over.” He handed Bronson a large envelope. “Everything’s in there.”

  Bronson took the envelope and shook David’s hand. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

  David’s stare intensified. “You look exactly like him.”

  “Monty?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “So, you knew him well?” Bronson asked.

  “Yes. I’ve been with Aggie from the days of Ashley. I was his attorney. We’re like family.”

  I rose and shook David’s hand. Before leaving, I stared over at the balcony wistfully. My eyes landed on the stemmed glass, complete with pink lipstick stain, and a half-open pack of cigarettes, while on the white peacock chair, in which I’d always sat, a shimmering finger of sunlight pointed down onto Wuthering Heights.

  That scene held so many memories that tears splashed over my cheeks. It had been an extraordinary few months.

  Bronson led me out by the hand.

  When we were on the street, Bronson looked up at the building that was now his.

  “Are you going to move in?” I asked.

  “Depends on you, Ava. Everything depends on you.” He stared at me long and hard.

  “Aggie was determined to see us together,” I said.

  He took me by the hand. “Let’s go to the park. It will help clear our heads.”

  When we arrived at our bench, I lowered myself onto the seat and took a deep breath. The smell of earth helped ease my nerves as I pulled Aggie’s letter out of my bag.

  It read:

  Dear Ava,

  Initially, my plan was simply to connect to someone who knew Bronson, in the hope of gaining access to him, while seeking revenge on his evil brother. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to discover that you’d fallen into Bronson’s arms, and in so doing ruffled the feathers of that cad, Justin. That in itself brought me back from the brink of death.

  The shock that came from seeing that cameo was indescribable. I hadn’t expected that! You see, I spent a good part of my early years convincing my family that Monty hadn’t stolen it. Apart from the flood of memories that came after seeing that family keepsake again, the mystery of its disappearance was also finally solved, even if it did bring me cold comfort, for I knew that Monty had stolen it to escape the pain that I’d brought him after marrying Ashley. Over and above everything, however, the cameo brought Bronson straight to me in an organic if not extraordinary way.

  You are the perfect woman for Bronson. That’s why I put in place that stipulation that Bronson marry before attaining my substantial wealth.

  A man like Bronson needs the steadying influence of a woman like you, Ava. Not that he would need much convincing, given that I witnessed firsthand how besotted he was with you. Not to mention that twinkle in your eyes whenever you were around him. I recognized that well, for I too gazed that way at Monty.

  As you recently observed, I saw myself and Monty through you and Bronson. Preposterous though that might seem, you’ve got to understand that the supernatural has become more tangible the closer I step toward eternal darkness.

  Bronson’s resemblance to Monty wasn’t just physical, for I recognized Monty’s intensity in Bronson. I beseech you, Ava, take that man and hold onto him forever. Monty self-destructed when our paths diverged, which sent me tumbling into a life of regret and sadness.

  I apologize if the theatrics spooked you. That being said, I am pleased with the outcome. Even my need for revenge was satisfied, given that men with big egos like Justin’s are riddled with insecurity, thus having his girl taken by the brother he envied would have torn him apart.

  But nothing gives me greater pleasure than knowing that you’ll be with Bronson forever. Just as I will be with Monty forever.

  A FEW MONTHS LATER…

  Brushing my hair, Cassie stood behind my chair. “Wow. It’s so thick and long. I’m surprised you didn’t wear it up.”

  “Bronson loves it down. In any case, I’ve got diamante combs to pull it back away from my face.”

  Shaking her head with wonder, Cassie looked at me in the mirror. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured with a big smile that seemed permanently planted on my face.

  As I stood before the mirror, I felt like a princess. Moving my head from side to side, I studied my pearly silk Yves St. Laurent gown with its flattering, sleek line that pooled into a tulip shape on the ground.

  “Those earrings are exquisite,” said Cassie.

  I had to agree as I jingled the diamond chandelier earrings that had come from Aggie’s considerable collection of jewels.

  “It’s a shame it’s not one of those magazine weddings. You’re going to be the hottest couple in the whole of America.”

  I smiled at Cassie’s enthusiastic if not slightly exaggerated comment. “I’m glad it’s small,” I responded.

  “It’s such a fairy tale. This house. The Hamptons. Thanks for letting us stay.”

  “You can all stay for as long as you like. It’s such a big house. I’m still getting lost in it. I spend half of my time looking for the bathroom.” I giggled. “Anyway, it’s everyone’s house now. Bronson and I want it that way.”

  “And to think you left him hanging for over a week. Why?”

  I sighed as I recollected that week following the reading of the will. A part of me resented being forced into something as life-changing as marriage, whereas Bronson didn’t even question it. He didn’t even give it a moment’s thought. He was just happy. Happier than I’d ever known him to be.

  “It was a huge step to take. I just needed to know.”

  “What did it?” she asked.

  A wide smile claimed my face. “I watched Bronson frying eggs for breakfast. Shirtless, of course.” I raised a brow. “With his hair all tousled. Those big dark eyes stealing glances at me and smiling shyly, even after we’d made love all night. I knew then and there that I wanted to be with him all my life.”

  Cassie smirked. “And the fact he’d become a billionaire had nothing to do with it?”

  I shook my head. “Bronson could have been totally broke, for all I cared.”

  “Who could have been totally broke?” my mother asked, entering the bedroom.

  “I just said that I didn’t marry Bronson because of his money.”

  “But he has got money. Plenty of it.” She embraced me. “Well done. I knew your beauty would deliver.”

  “You weren’t exactly nice to him the first time you met him,” I said, pulling away. My mother seemed to have a knack for bringing the mood down.

  “No. But he’s grown on me. And the new home he bought us has helped me change my views, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah. I bet it has,” I said with a cool note.

  “Oh, come on, Ava, this is your wedding day. Don’t go all sour on me,” she said, lowering her chin.
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  I looked at Cassie, who, with a subtle shrug, nodded. “Doesn’t Ava look beautiful?”

  My mother ran her eyes over me. “Ava would look beautiful in a sack. It is a pretty dress, but I would have gone for something modern. It’s a bit old-fashioned.”

  “Yves St. Laurent is never old-fashioned,” I said, mimicking her dismissive tone.

  When she left, I turned to Cassie. “Nothing I ever do pleases her. Only my marrying wealth has put a smile on her face.”

  “Oh… come on, Aves, she’s your mom. You know parents. They’re generally hard to please.”

  My father entered. When he saw me, he stopped and his face lit up in wonder. What a contrast, I thought. How did this sweet, gorgeous man end up with my tough, hard-nosed mom?

  “You look so beautiful. Like one of those classic Hollywood beauties.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Mom wasn’t as impressed.”

  “You know your mother.” He turned to greet Cassie. “You look lovely too, Cassandra.”

  My best friend did strike an elegant figure in a turquoise chiffon-silk empire-line Dior gown I’d gifted her from the vast collection that Aggie had given me.

  My father rubbed his hands together. “Are we ready?”

  I nodded. My eyes misted over.

  “Come here, sweetheart. You’re going to do well. Bronson’s a great guy.”

  “Do you think so?” I asked. I needed one parent to love him.

  “I liked him from the first time I met him. I suppose the fact we share a passion for wood helped.” He chuckled. “And the new workshop he had built at the back of the palace he bought us stole my breath.”

  “That was probably so that he could hang out with you whenever we visit.” I smiled, picturing Bronson spending his whole day cutting, sanding, and hammering away.

  Even though we’d moved into a pretty two-story, blue Colonial-style home in the suburbs, during the weekdays I commuted to Aggie’s old apartment, where I’d set up an office. The rest of the apartments, ten in all, were rented out cheaply to struggling writers.

  Fearing that the charming gray stone edifice would be bulldozed, Bronson adamantly refused to sell it. That came as a relief, because every time I stepped into what was once Aggie’s home, a surge of inspiration overwhelmed me. Stoking my imagination with memories and images, the balcony soon became my favorite place to write.

  Taking my arm, my father led me out to my future husband.

  Cut by one of New York’s finest Italian tailors, the black tux with a red rose in the lapel molded perfectly onto Bronson’s strong body. My breath hitched when I saw him.

  Bronson turned. A smile grew from the corners of his lips, while his eyes sparkled with desire when he saw me.

  Even the day was perfect. The sun was out, and the air was calm.

  We stood on the terrace of our new home by the sea. Behind us, the ocean roared out our wedding tune, witnessing a moment that I’d never expected would happen so soon, especially surrounded by such unimaginable opulence.

  As our hands entwined, Bronson’s heat flushed through me.

  “Will you take Ava Rose to be your wife?”

  Bronson turned to face me, and an emphatic “Yes,” left his lips.

  “Ava Rose, will you take Bronson Lockhart to be your husband?”

  I took a deep breath, and in that moment, I saw fear in Bronson’s eyes. It was as if that one breath had trapped time.

  “Yes” floated out of me like a butterfly on a sunny afternoon.

  The release in his chest was palpable. I could only assume that Bronson feared that I’d had second thoughts.

  He took me into his arms and flying high on his scent, I melted into his strong body.

  Lowering his head, Bronson whispered, “Take my heart… it’s yours.”

  My breath hitched again as I tipped my head back to gaze up at him.

  Bronson’s smoldering gaze softened into a twinkle of promise, making my own heart flutter.

  THE END

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Dear Reader, thank you for arriving at the sweet end. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this story. If you did, would you be so good to leave a review? I will send the romance fairies to grace your lives with sweet romance! I’d also be forever grateful. Reviews are everything, and without them I cannot continue publishing my stories. Thank you! J. J. Sorel

  Flick over the page for details on my other books.

  https://jjsorel.com/

  https://www.facebook.com/JJSorel/

  ALSO BY J. J. SOREL

  Thornhill Trilogy – Entrance, Enlighten and Enfold: A Steamy Billionaire Romance series

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076K5J11Z

  The Importance of Being Wild: A stand-alone Contemporary Steamy Romance

  https://www.amazon.com/Importance-Being-Wild-J-Sorel-ebook/dp/B07F7XDNNY

  The Importance of Being Bella: A stand-alone Contemporary Steamy Romance

  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07GTZ8C87

  SAMPLE – THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING WILD

  My head was in a spin, not because I was running late for my twin, Bella, but because I couldn’t think straight. I looked into a window of a shoe-shop where eager to please sale’s assistants bent down helping customers try on footwear. Bright, cheery faces everywhere as they went about their normal lives.

  God, how I wanted to be one of them. My life was anything but normal. At least, not in an interesting way, but in a weird, wish-I’d-never-done-that sort of way.

  Having just left the police station, I’m sure I looked a sight in my rumpled loose blouse that looked as if I’d slept in it.

  With head to the ground, I hurried along and darted out of the way when a bunch of folks poured out of the coffee house clasping paper-cups.

  Peering through the window, I scanned over the crowded café and saw my sister chatting on her cell phone. A big smile painted her bright red, fleshy lips. Lips that we shared, along with other facial features, for we were almost identical in every way, except for our hairstyle, clothes and nature. While Bella was wild just like our surname, I was. . . Well, I couldn’t really work out what I was.

  It was one of those swanky cafes in lower Manhattan, Bella’s neighborhood. Naturally, it had to always be in her own borough. Though I still lived in Brooklyn, where the two of us were raised, Bella wouldn’t be seen dead there. Her words. She’d visit Brooklyn only for business, that is when hired by one of her clients. I can’t say I blamed Bella for hating our old borough. There were some pretty dark memories back there. Our mother left us when we were one. Having run away to Hollywood to become an actress, she never really made it. Bit parts mainly, or so I heard on the grapevine years later.

  We were brought up by our father, his sister, our Aunt Helen, and her husband, Simon. Obsessed with Bella, Uncle Simon, a b-grade actor, began grooming her, and when she was fifteen the two of them began a clandestine affair, that is until Bella fell pregnant before her seventeenth birthday. She lost the baby a few months later.

  That’s when I became a tomboy. I still recall the long blonde waves laying at my feet on the bathroom floor, after I cut my hair short. In a bid to hide my curves, I chose loose-fitting clothes. It worked. Not only did it repel my sleazy uncle, but also the boys at school. Then I fell for my husband, Brendan Childe. The same man that I’d only just picked up from the hospital, a week earlier. The same man that woke up out of a coma, smiling so sweetly, that I scratched my head wondering what had happened to the controlling, aggressive man whom I’d married.

  I entered the busy café. As usual, several customers briefly paused to gawk at me. Whether it was my sea-green and blue streaked blonde bob, or the bright hand-painted blouse that I’d bought at a Brooklyn street market, I couldn’t tell. But I definitely seemed out of place amongst the collection of designer outfits.

  Bella glanced up at me and pointed to the seat in typical bossy fashion. She’d always been that way with me. Born a few minutes before me, it justified, i
n her mind at least, her blood right to call the shots.

  Being a soft touch, I let her become the mother I’d never had.

  Offering me a quick wink, Bella purred into her cell phone with that breathy, girlish voice she adopted when talking to clients. My sister worked as an escort. And while I detested her line of work, it had nevertheless made her a lot of money.

  We’d inherited Wild Thing, a bar from our father when he died, but Bella held no interest. I probably should have walked away from it. But I needed a focus. And besides, I liked the regulars, many of whom had been friends of my late father, and so were to me like family.

  “Yes, sweetie, at one then.” She closed the call. Her almond-shaped, green eyes studied me. “You look terrible, Bonnie.”

  “Don’t start, Bel. I’ve had a shit day. No, let me rephrase that, I’ve had a shit life,” I said, slumping into a chair.

  Bella touched my hand. “It hasn’t been all that bad, Bonnie. You just married the wrong guy, that’s all. You’re only twenty-two, sweetie.”

  I was about to respond when a waiter came by, and asked, “What will it be?”

  “A latte, a double, thanks,” I said.

  “Do you want breakfast? You look like you could do with something to eat. But then, in that loose-fitting tent you’re wearing I can’t really see what’s happening to that killer body of yours.”

  “Killer body of ours, you mean? The one that earns you squillions,” I retorted with a hint of sarcasm.

  “Let’s not go there again, sis, I’m bored with this conversation. I am what I am. I love men. I love cocks. And I love myself.”

  “You make it sound like a mission statement. You’re not still seeing that fucking life-coach, are you?” I asked.

  “I am. He happens to be a good client, with a nice big, packed lunch. . .” She wiggled her eyebrows and chuckled.

  And there we were again. One minute with my sex-addicted sister and she was on about big cocks. “Let me guess, he’s got wisdom by the bucketload.”