by Harlow James
Harlow James
My Unexpected Family
Copyright © 2021 by Harlow James
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Harlow James asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Harlow James has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
First edition
Cover art by Abigail Davies from Pink Elephant Designs
Editing by Tiffany Hernandez
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
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To the people who become our family that aren’t related by blood…
Like my readers.
I could never do this without you. So thank you.
It’s not what we have in life, but who we have in our lives that matters.
J. M. Lawrence
Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Harlow James
Prologue
Silas
Age Sixteen
I rub my eyes as what sounds like a soft knock wakes me up in the middle of the night. With a glance at the clock on the microwave that is visible from the recliner where I’m sleeping in the living room, I can see it’s just after one in the morning. That’s weird. I’m pretty sure people aren’t supposed to come over when we’re all sleeping.
Another knock, this one louder than the last, has me sitting up in the chair, my heart racing now. Do I answer it? It’s late and dark outside and I know Nonna wouldn’t let me answer it if there’s a stranger on the other side, although I know I could protect her and my sisters if I needed to.
A light comes on in the hallway just before I see my grandmother trot down the tile floor, tying her robe around her waist as she walks. Her long, dark hair is pulled to one side of her neck and her glasses are perched on her nose.
“Go back to sleep, Silas,” she whispers, stepping over my sisters sleeping on the floor just beneath the recliner and between the two sofas in the living room on her way to the front door. We fell asleep out here while watching a movie last night and none of us bothered to move into the bedrooms.
We’ve been staying at Nonna’s house for the past two nights so our parents could go out of town on a trip for their anniversary. Nonna said it’s important for parents to be alone sometimes, even though mine seem to fight more than necessary. But I kinda miss them and can’t wait to sleep back in my bed when they get home. Still, staying at Nonna’s house is good, although it was more fun when Nonno was alive and we would go out in his shop, just us boys, and he would teach me how to build things with him, instilling the craft of woodworking in me. But he died two years ago and my dad is always too busy to do stuff with me, like Nonno did.
I hear my grandmother softly open the door and whisper. “Good evening, officer. How can I help you?”
“Are you Isabela De Luca?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?” The worry in her voice has my heart racing even faster.
“I’m so sorry to wake you in the middle of the night like this, but… there’s been an accident.”
Chapter 1
Chloe
Rumor has it that when a man sees a woman he finds attractive for the first time, he experiences some form of the ‘dick twitch’, a momentary spasm in his goods that signals to his brain that there is an attractive woman in the vicinity and his dick wants to get up close and personal with the sweet heaven between her legs.
However, once his brain kicks in, he realizes the chances of actually penetrating her with his dick are pretty slim. There are so many variables that play into his success rate—the approach, the charm, if he’s willing to gamble his hard earned money on buying her a few drinks as an investment, his flirt vs. douchebag ratio—and even still, he could put out all the right moves, think he’s sealed the deal, and she can still say no.
And that is because women hold all the power.
That’s right. I said it.
It’s the power of the vagina, and I’m one that doesn’t waste it on just anyone.
I’m not a slut by any means, but I am a woman that when I see a man worth my time and the glorious, sweet spot at the apex of my thighs, I use that power to my advantage. I make sure that whoever I decide to sleep with is someone my vagina agrees with too, that I experience what I call, the ‘lit clit’.
Yes, you read that right.
The ‘lit clit’ as I so eloquently call it is a woman’s equivalent of a dick twitch—that moment when you see a man so mouthwateringly fine that your clit lights up and alerts you to his presence. A wave of adrenaline radiates from your chest and travels down your limbs, waking up your body in more ways than one, and then you know the mission is on. Time to fluff your hair, adjust your cleavage, and stake your claim while exercising your most basic right as a woman—the right to sleep with any man you want because that is your choice and yours alone.
And tonight, my clit is flashing red.
It’s a Thursday night in Las Vegas, Nevada, and I’m seated at a booth in Al Forno, the Italian restaurant located inside the Morgan Hotel owned by Wes Morgan, who just happens to be the boyfriend of my best friend, Shayla. The details of their story can be sorted out another time, but the important thing to note here is that an impromptu trip to Las Vegas this weekend had excitement rushing through me because just a few days ago I was having one of those epiphany moments—the ones where you contemplate your life and what you’re doing with it.
I was missing the thrill, the rush of adrenaline when something new happens and makes you feel alive again. I needed to get away from the mundane, the daily routine of walking dogs for my clients back in Santa Barbara, California, and the sad reality that my other gig working at a local art gallery will soon be coming to an end because of budget cuts. So when Wes called up Shayla a few days ago and asked her to accompany him on a trip to Vegas, you know damn well that I demanded I go with. In all honesty, Shayla wouldn’t have gone without me anyway because she’s my best friend on th
e face of the planet, the only family I’ve really got, and the tantrum I would have thrown being left behind would rival that of a two-year-old.
After a short flight on Wes’s private plane, we arrived and checked into our rooms before meeting down here for dinner. The rest of the night is dedicated to visiting a few night clubs that Wes’s best friend, Hayes, owns and plenty of alcohol to go around.
“What wine are you getting Chloe?” Shayla asks from across the booth after Wes whispers something in her ear. That man is so far gone for her it’s ridiculous, and damn, does Shayla deserve it. But if I know my best friend as well as I do, I know it will only be a matter of time before she tries to push him away again.
“Well, I’m not much of a wine buff, you know that. Something light to start off with, I suppose.” My eyes scour the leather bound wine menu in my hands just as goosebumps scatter down my arms when a man speaks.
“Well, if you’re going to go that route, I recommend the Fruliano.”
The deep timbre of the voice has my head launching up to find the owner. And when I do, the lit clit activates.
Beacons of light are illuminating between my legs so brightly that even my best friend and her boyfriend could probably see them as I watch one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life lean against a pillar next to the table we’re currently sitting at.
Hot mother-effing damn.
“Silas!” Hayes shouts, standing up and pulling the man my body deems worthy in for a hug. Wes nudges his sister, Waverly, out of their side of the booth so he can stand and greet the man as well. By the way these boys are showing affection toward one another, I’m guessing Silas is someone we know.
Another check mark in the lit clit column for me then.
“Damn, Wes. You look old.”
“I tried to tell him that he’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t stop working so hard,” Shayla chimes in.
“Oh, calling you out? I like her already.” He reaches over the table and holds his hand out to Shayla’s. “Silas De Luca. Nice to meet you.”
God, even his name is hot. And now my clit is burning brighter than the sun.
“Shayla Mitchel,” she replies with a smile.
“Silas, this is my girlfriend, Shayla,” Wes announces proudly.
“Girlfriend, huh?” Silas’s face shows his surprise. “Seems a lot has changed in the past few months.”
“That it has. But it seems business is good.” Wes surveys the busy restaurant around us. The décor of red and gold with mahogany wood only adds to the Italian aura.
“That it is, brother,” Silas says. “Vegas has always been one of the most prosperous locations, naturally.” His confidence oozes from his pores, and it’s at that moment that I realize I’ve been staring at this man for the past five minutes with my mouth hanging open.
After I clear my throat and tamp down my racing heartbeat, I realize the time to recover from my blatant and slightly embarrassing appreciation for the man standing in front of me is now.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to know more about this wine, please.” I make sure my intentions are known as I watch Silas’s eyes find mine and the color of them has me fighting the urge to suck in a breath, especially when the mischievous glint they fire back at me has me clenching my thighs together under the booth. Pools of dark chocolate stare down at me framed by thick lashes and matching stubble along a square jaw—the type of jaw that has you daydreaming about licking it with the tip of your tongue.
Hayes stands back from the booth as his phone rings and Silas takes the open seat next to me, his massive body now so close I can feel the heat coming off of him and my nose picks up on the faint scent of his cologne. His lips are full and a rose color that compliments the olive tone of his skin, and his dark hair neatly trimmed on the sides and combed back on top gives him a put-together business look that screams he’s the boss. And dear lord, do I want him to boss me around with the way he’s looking at me right now, perhaps with some silk bondage or a blindfold.
Game on. I found the one I want tonight.
“Well, a Fruliano is an Italian white wine that boasts flavors of jasmine, orange zest, figs, and green apples.” Just his description alone has my mouth watering.
“Sounds delicious.” I keep eye contact with him as I lick my lips, but the move has his eyes moving down to watch my tongue slide across my bottom lip before I drag my teeth across the flesh as well. And then his Adam’s apple is bobbing as he swallows before continuing.
“But it’s the silky texture that will have you reaching for more. It goes down so smooth, leaving delicate flavors and scents on your palate before following with a slightly bitter almond aftertaste.”
I bet this man would feel smooth moving in and out of me too.
Needing to keep this intensity between us building, I reach up and smooth the lapel of his dark grey suit jacket, and the hard body I feel underneath has me taking a deep breath. “Well, I think you should join us for a glass then.” I flash him a teasing smile and then his lips part as well, revealing beautiful white teeth and a smile that would make me take off my panties under the table and hand them to him on the spot.
But he chuckles as he glances down at his watch. “I’d love to, but duty calls. I’m here to check on the restaurant and then I have to meet with my managers in about an hour.”
I lick my lips again since that caught his attention before, just suggestively and alluringly enough, an artform I’ve perfected over the past few years. “We’re going to Omnia at Caesar’s after this. Maybe you can stop by?”
Silas slides out of the booth as Hayes and Waverly share a sexually charged interaction masquerading as hate. I’d bet good money those two are boning by the end of the night.
“I’ll let you know if I can stop by,” Silas replies while straightening his jacket and securing the top button. With one more glance in my direction accompanied by a lift of his brow, he says farewell to the group and then spins on his heel and strides away from us, allowing me to appreciate his backside this time, making my mouth water even more.
As soon as he’s far enough away, I start fanning myself with the menu. “Holy fuck! That man was hot. Who the hell was that?”
“Our buddy Silas. We’ve known him since high school. He owns this restaurant and about one hundred others across the globe. We actually have several Al Forno’s in Morgan Hotels,” Wes states proudly as my eyes widen.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope,” Hayes interjects this time. The waiter comes by and asks for our drink order before scurrying away once more. “Silas is the best, but you might be too much for him, Chloe.”
I scoff at him. “Me? Too much?”
He takes a sip of his water while dropping his eyes up and down my torso. “Yeah. I know when I can sense a personality like mine in its female counterpart, and I hate to break it to you girl, but people like you and me can be too much for some people.”
“As if I’ve never heard that before.” I roll my eyes before taking a sip of my water, irritated and feeling the buzz between my legs slowly subside as this conversation progresses.
“Chloe, he said he might meet up with us later at the club. Maybe you can talk to him a bit when he gets there,” Shayla declares encouragingly from her seat.
“I don’t want to talk, Shayla. I need some dick. I’m in Vegas, I’m going to get plastered, and getting fucked two ways to Sunday would be the cherry on top of this trip.” The waiter comes by to drop off our drinks at that very moment and apparently my words were a little too honest for his little virgin ears.
“Sorry Chloe, but Silas isn’t that type of guy,” Wes chimes in.
“You know you’re only posing more of a challenge when you say that, Wes.”
“The woman has a point,” Hayes agrees.
“Will everyone stop talking for two seconds so we can order some damn food, please!” Waverly shouts, effectively shutting the rest of us up. “I’m about two seconds from
eating my own arm and there is not enough alcohol to make this evening look up.” She reaches for her mojito and drains the glass without ever removing her lips from her straw.
Seems talk of sex around someone who obviously needs the annoyance banged out of her has Waverly teetering on the edge.
“We’d better feed Beaverly before she starts gnawing on the table.” Hayes smirks at Waverly, fueling the fire and smoke coming out of her ears.
Wes places his hand on his sister’s arm. “I’m sorry, Wave. You’re right. I think everyone can agree that we’re hungry, correct?” I nod as Wes encourages us to agree.
My eyes drift down to the menu once more to read the words, but I’m not processing them. I’m irritated. Who are they to say what Silas wants or doesn’t? I saw that gleam in his eyes. I saw the way he looked at me. And I know how much my body and mind wanted to ride him wildly tonight. And generally speaking, if I see something or someone I want, I get it.
“I don’t see a hunky Italian man on the menu anywhere here, Wes. I may not find anything to appease my appetite at this point.”
The table breaks out in laughter, but I’m serious, and that declaration became even more true later that evening in the club. Silas never showed up and even though I was determined to find someone else to focus my sexual energy on, no one made my clit light up like he did.
Silas De Luca broke my clit.
* * *
Two nights later after having no success finding a man to satisfy my sexual appetite, Hayes suggested we go to a different club for our last night in Sin City. The thrill of Las Vegas nightlife helps ease the disappointment simmering low in my belly since the night I met Silas, but I’m still having trouble deleting images and feelings from my mind regarding him.
