Tag Archives: sexy

Accidental Witch, Episode 8

Episode Eight

By Lena Hart

 

Mary’s heart dropped at the sight of the dark shadows looming over the Pastry Bitch like menacing claws. They swooped down sharply, and she jumped out of her seat.

“Stop!”

The shadows instantly fell away like a black drape, disintegrating into dust. Stirling pulled her back down to her seat as a hush whisper began to travel through the crowd at her sudden outburst.

Mary ignored the curious gazes and rounded on her date. “Why did you do that?”

Stirling cocked a brow. “That was not me, love. That darkness manifested from you.”

What was he talking about? She didn’t have darkness in her. She was a good person—she just didn’t like to be walked all over. Or accused of doing something she hadn’t.

“How…”

“It appears you hold more power than you realize, Mary.” He smirked. “And you’re more vindictive than you think.”

She stared at him then down at her hands, incredulous. “You’re crazy if you’re saying what I think you’re saying…”

“And what is it that you think I’m saying?”

“That I’m a…witch?”

“A very unseasoned one, but you’ll learn.”

Mary’s heart began to race at what he’d just confirmed. Did she really contain that kind of magic in her?

“And once you grow into your own, you’ll find your path.”

“My path to what?”

“The dark or the light.”

“You mean I’m either going to be good or evil?”

“More or less.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be wicked, but I can’t let the Pastry Bitch get away with ruining my career.”

“You want revenge, then take it.”

“I want to have her hair fall out. I want ants to come pouring out of her chocolate soufflé. I don’t want to actually kill her.”

“You can do all of that and more, love.” Stirling leaned back in his seat and assessed her quietly. “But will any of that satisfy you?”

Yes.

Mary glanced at where the Pastry Bitch stood at the far end of the room, admiring her work as the attendants began to serve her popular dessert to the guests. Mary should have been standing there, too. She’d put in just as much work into this function to make it a success, and that moment of glory had been taken from her.

But looking around the room, it was hard not to let the delight from the guests lift her spirits. She may not get the acknowledgement for it, but she would take pleasure in knowing that she’d been a part of putting those smiles on these people’s faces.

Mary sighed in resignation. To hell with the Pastry Bitch. She would let karma take this one.

“If I have to be a witch,” Mary murmured, “I prefer not to be a green one.”

Stirling chuckled. “I can see you’ve watched too many movies. Witches are actually quite attractive.” He winked at her. “Exceptionally so.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “You’re a—” She didn’t bother completing the sentence. Of course he was a witch. He’d practically told on himself with his impossible good looks—and that blood pen he kept in his pocket. “So are you a good witch or a bad one?”

“What do you think?” he asked, taking a sip of his champagne.

Mary tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re only good when it suits you…”

“You’re very perceptive. That’s a useful trait to have with your kind of power.”

“Can you teach me to be a good witch?”

He carefully placed his glass down then lovingly ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She trembled from the delicate touch.

“I can teach you a lot of things, love. And I plan to. But goodness is as innate as it is subjective. Goodness is having the power to steal every soul in this room but choosing not to.”

She stared at him blankly. “You can do that? Steal souls?”

“Yes.” His dark eyes flashed brilliantly. He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips across hers. “But I’d rather steal your heart.”

As he deepened the kiss, Mary lost herself in his embrace. In that moment, she forgot about everything—and everyone—and concentrated only on Stirling Drake and the sensuous spell he casted with his lips.

The End!

Accidental Witch, Episode 7

Episode Seven

By J.A. Coffey

 

 

Holy shit. Had she just…? Had they?

Mary shook her head. Whatever they’d done, holy was definitely not it.

She willed the room to stop swimming in Cristal and the scent of burnt paper. This was not the party she’d spent hours planning for her ex-employer. It was something much more. There was an undercurrent of danger beneath the tinkling glasses and the photographer’s flash. The piped-in music was garish. To her left, a woman shrieked with laughter. Mary winced. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the night was…off.

Shit.

She’d wanted a little taste of revenge but not the full buffet.

“What is it, my dear?” Stirling arched his elegant brow. The man was so devastatingly handsome; there was no question she’d followed along with his suggestions. In fact, from the moment sexy Stirling Drake had swept her up in his sleek black car, he’d had her in his thrall. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

Mary wet her lips. “Did we just…do something we shouldn’t have?”

“It depends.” His dark eyes were studying her.

“On?”

“On your definition of what we should or shouldn’t do.” There were a whole lot of things she wanted to be doing with him and none of them had to do with incantations or candles.

Well, maybe the candles.

His hand went to her knee under the table, and she felt the sway of his words strumming through her body like too much champagne. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were meant for me. I think the more important question is what you want to do, Mary.”

He was intoxicating; his presence both piqued and steadied her, just when she was feeling vulnerable.

“I wouldn’t mind those jerks getting a dose of karma.” She jerked her chin at the Pastry Bitch setting out treats at the far table. Treats that Mary had ordered. “But I’m not the vindictive type.”

He laughed, a delicious warm sound that set her thighs quivering. She was certain he could feel tingles pricking his palm as his hand slid from her kneecap to decidedly higher ground. The tip of his finger dipped beneath the elastic of her garter belt and a pulling sensation blossomed in her middle.

“Maybe you are, and you just don’t know it yet.” His dark gaze focused on her mouth.

“No.” She wrinkled her brow and the room righted. “I’m not.”

Stirling met her eyes and his smile grew wider, even predatory as he leaned in closer. His fingers slid another delicious inch up her leg. “So, you have a little fight left in you, Mary. That’s good. You’re going to need it.”

“Fight?” Her throat constricted, in the same rhythm of his fingers stroking up her thigh. “Why would I need to fight you?”

“Not me, love.” He leaned back in his seat and nodded towards the dark shadows gathering in the burgundy velvet curtains behind the Pastry Bitch. “Them.”

 

 

 

 

Accidental Witch, Episode 6

Episode Six

By Kris Calvert

 

 

Theirs was the VIP table—the only VIP. This made Mary walk a little taller through the crowd of enthusiastic onlookers. It seemed everyone wanted to know who Stirling Drake had brought to the gala as his arm candy. It occurred to Mary as they made their way through the sea of people, just as many women were eyeing her as the men.

Sterling leaned into her as they approached the highly appointed table dressed in red roses, candles, and exquisite linens. “You’ve attracted some attention but don’t be self-conscious. They’re merely jealous of your beauty,” he whispered.

The glow of his compliment showed on her flushed cheeks, and she couldn’t contain her smile.

The flower arrangements were bigger at their special table; there were more candles and a more attentive staff. Mary felt like the belle of the ball—a ball that she herself had planned.

An invisible spotlight seemed to shine on them, and she wasn’t mad about it—not one little bit. Tonight it seemed as though everyone wanted to be the woman on the arm of Sterling Drake. Mary was happy she was the lucky girl.

Sterling held the chair for his date, eyeing her perfect ass as she slid it into the red chair.

“It all came together beautifully,” she whispered to herself as she surveyed the room, noting all of her hard work and plans had been executed impeccably for the event.

Sterling took the seat beside her, leaning into her shoulder to steal a kiss from her exposed skin. He wanted everyone in the room to know Mary belonged to him. She greeted his advance with an inviting sigh.

“This is too much. It really is,” she said, looking into his dark eyes.

“Too much?” he asked with a flirtatious laugh. “Nothing is ever too much, my dear. Not for us. Not tonight. Not any night. Now,” he said bringing his voice down. “Let me pour you another glass of Cristal and discuss the Pastry Bitch.”

Mary brought the fresh glass of champagne to her lips but paused to giggle at his statement.

“I don’t want to spoil this beautiful evening. Besides, she’s not worth it.”

Sterling looked into Mary’s eyes. “Your lips are saying one thing, but the sparkle in your eyes tells me something completely different.”

“Really?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Stirling placed two fingers on his full lips before transferring them to Mary’s. “The lips will lie,” he whispered. “The eyes, never.”

Mary couldn’t help but squirm in her seat. The man was turning her on and turning her inside out at the same time.

“So,” her voice cracked in hesitation. “Pray tell, what are my eyes telling you?”

“That they seek something.”

Mary swallowed hard, the party around them faded into white noise that merely filled in the gaps of her now focused mind. She did seek something. The man sitting in front of her. Stirling Drake. Instead, she begged the question, “And what is that?”

“If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you us tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not…” Stirling paused in his Shakespearian quote for effect. “Revenge?”

“You think I want revenge?” she asked.

He didn’t say a word but nodded only once. Once was all that was needed.

“So what if I am?”

“So what if we do something about it?”

Mary took a long pause. Her mother had always taught her not to seek revenge, always saying, If you’re looking for revenge, you’ll surely find it. Just be sure to dig two graves. One for the victim and one for yourself.

Still the thought nagged at her. Maybe her eyes were telling the truth. “What could we do?”

Stirling cleared a space on the table in front of them, pulling an antique silver pen from jacket of his tuxedo.

Using the cocktail napkin from under Mary’s Cristal, he drew a star and circled it—the ink blood red. He then handed the pen to Mary.

“As I say the words, you say the words. As you write the words, you say the words.”

Mary cocked her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“As I say the words, you say the words. As you write the words, you say the words,” he repeated. “Spoken to intention, intention to word.”

She poised the pen to the napkin, the red ink immediately spreading from the fountain pen with only a touch.

“Come Evil. Evil Come.”

Mary said the words as she wrote them on the flimsy paper napkin. “Come Evil. Evil Come.”

“Do my bidding to the one.”

Again, Mary wrote the words as she repeated them.

“Darkness Darkness hear my plea.”

“Mark the words, I commandeth thee.”

When Mary was finished writing all that Stirling had dictated, he took the small paper napkin from her hand and held it to the flame of one of the many candles that lit the table.

In a puff of fire and ash, it disappeared.

She watched in amazement, nearly oblivious to the fact that Sterling now held her hand inside his. Lifting her delicate hand to his mouth, he brushed her knuckles with his soft lips. “It is done, my beautiful Mary. It is done.”

 

 

 

Accidental Witch, Episode 5

Episode Five

By Chanta Rand

 

 

Mary stepped out of the limo and stood on shaky legs as Stirling clasped her hand in his. The man’s kiss had nearly made her knees buckle. She held on tight, hoping she didn’t fall and bust her ass wearing these five-inch stilettos. The sparkly pumps were a far cry from the comfortable sneakers she normally wore. Tonight her mission was dress to impress. By the way Stirling’s tongue was hanging out, she’d succeeded.

Before they could reach the door, a photographer sprang up like a jack-in-the-box to snap a photo of them. Stirling wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, settling into a picture-perfect pose. It wasn’t hard to smile, especially feeling the heat of Stirling’s palm scorching through the material of her dress. Desire snaked through her veins like liquid fire. She was still thinking about his promise to find out what her other lips tasted like. If his kiss was any indication, this man would live up to every fantasy she’d ever had about him.

Moments later, clinging to his arm, she stepped through the door of the posh Palladium Club. Bittersweet sweet pride replaced passion as her eyes swept across her handiwork. Even beneath the dim light of the glittering chandeliers, she saw her stamp of classiness everywhere. She was responsible for everything—from the velvet, burgundy drapes parted with gold tassels to the gold tablecloths and white lily centrepieces. She’d even picked the venue. Her dumbass boss didn’t have the connections to secure a party here. Ironically, when she booked this place (at a substantial discount), she never thought she’d be attending with a man who made her panties wet.

A waiter approached, carrying a tray laden with flutes of Cristal champagne. Stirling plucked two flutes from the tray and passed one to her. If he kept this up, she’d be as drunk as her boss had falsely accused her of.

No sooner had she tipped the glass to her lips, did the man suddenly appear. His jaw dropped the moment he set eyes on her. Within seconds, his short, stubby legs stormed into her personal space.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I thought I made it clear you no longer work for me.”

Before she could reply, Stirling’s six-foot-plus frame stepped in front of her boss. “I’m Stirling Drake. Ms. Reynolds is my date. Is there a problem?”

The frost in Stirling’s voice generated enough ice for an igloo.

“Oh, um…my mistake,” her boss stammered. “I, uh…didn’t realize—”

“Shouldn’t you be attending to the guests instead of harassing my date?”

If Little Napoleon were of fairer complexion, he would have turned beet red. But his coffee-color skin betrayed no emotion. Only the slight twitching of his right eye let her know he was pissed. She’d seen the tick plenty of times—because she was usually the one pissing him off.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Drake.” Her boss practically saluted. “Is there anything…else I can do for you?”

“You’ve done enough. In fact, the best part about you letting her go is that I get to have her all to myself.”

Her boss walked off, clearly flustered and embarrassed. Mary giggled, fighting the sudden throbbing between her legs. “What exactly do you have planned for me, Stirling Drake?”

A devilish grin crept across his handsome features. “Magic, baby. We’re going to make beautiful magic together.”

 

 

Accidental Witch, Episode 4

Episode Four

By Valerie Twombly

 

Stirling tried not to stare, but it was damn hard. Speaking of…so was his cock, and it was pressing painfully into the zipper of his slacks. This was one time going commando had been a bad idea. The fabric of the dress wrapped around her breasts as if they’d been dipped in amethyst, and there was no missing the fact she was bra-less. Her nipples pointed at him and begged to be tasted. It was all he could do to keep his tongue from rolling out of his mouth. Fortunately, he was quick to remember his manners and offered his arm.

“Shall we?”

“Thank you. You certainly look dashing tonight.” She wrapped her fingers around his bicep, and he stifled a moan. The woman’s touch was like fire, and it burned straight through his jacket. It was going to be a long evening.

“I must admit,” he answered as he escorted her down the sidewalk where Gus waited with the limo door open, “I hate formal attire. I’m much more at ease in jeans and a tee.”

Mary smiled. “I know exactly what you mean.” She released his arm and bent over to climb into the limo. He wasn’t so sure her ass could look any more delicious unless it was naked and bent over in front of him, while he pounded into her from behind.

Shit!

His erection throbbed and reminded him to make a quick adjustment before he slid across the seat. He’d think about baseball but that would only encourage him to try and run all the bases with her. He’d have to come up with something else, or he’d be all over her before they left the curb. Pulling the bottle of champagne from its icy bucket, he wrapped a towel around it and poured two glasses. Once finished, he landed the bottle back in its place and offered her a glass. They had a thirty-minute ride so might as well take the edge off with a little bubbly.

He held up his glass. “To a successful evening.”

They clinked and she sipped. “Mmm, very good. So tell me, what kind of success are you hoping for this evening?”

He couldn’t help the grin that lifted his lips. “I’m hoping the fundraiser is successful. What did you think I meant?” His cock was hoping he’d succeed in other areas as well.

“Well, of course…the charity. I just didn’t know if there were…” She ran her fingers down her neck, stopping just above the swell of her breasts. “Perhaps there were other ventures you hoped to conquer.”

“Indeed. One of which is to kiss you.” If he read her signals correct, she wanted it as bad as he did.

“Really? Then what would be stopping you?” She licked her lips.

Oh, hell.

He took the glass from her hand and set them both on the table as he slid closer. In one bold move, he had her pinned to the corner. First, he kissed the corner of her mouth.

She parted her lips slightly.

Stirling was one thing if nothing else: a man who never passed up an opportunity. He slipped his tongue into the depths of her mouth. The taste of champagne and mint mingled with the scent of strawberries. The combination caused him to press further into her; her breasts against his chest had him cursing the fabric between them. She moaned and kissed him harder. He cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over her nipple. The bud hardened in response, and his heart beat faster.

“Mr. Drake. We are five minutes out, sir.” Gus cracked over the speaker.

Stirling broke free, both of them panting as they stared at each other. “Thank you, Gus. Looks like you’ve been saved by the bell,” he whispered.

She lifted a delicate brow. “Saved from what?”

He grinned. “From me hiking that dress over your hips and finding out what your other lips taste like.”

 

 

 

Accidental Witch, Episode 3

Episode Three

By Kishan Paul

 

 

Mary stood in front of her bathroom mirror inspecting herself. The deep purple dress fit her body like second skin and flattered her in all the right places. She turned to check out her rear and smiled. Yup, in all the right places. She grabbed the curling iron and worked on her hair.

Her stomach fluttered as an image of the brown-haired, dark-eyed man popped into her head. She’d been drawn to Stirling Drake since they first met a month ago. So drawn to him, in fact, that she tripped over her shoes when their eyes locked. Fortunately, she was able to grab on to the back of a chair before she fell on her face. The rest of the night, she had tried to stay focused and work the event while keenly aware he watched her. It had only been a few weeks since she’d started her catering job, and they’d made it clear that flirting or dating customers was grounds for immediate dismissal. As attracted as she was to him, she needed the money, and so she made it her goal to avoid him at all cost. It worked beautifully until the end, when he cornered her in the kitchen and asked her out.

Mary closed her eyes and remembered the musky scent of his cologne and his warmth when he leaned in to speak. Stirling was one of the sexiest men she’d ever met, and for reasons she didn’t understand, he wanted her. It took every ounce of self-control to turn him down but she did. Every night since, she’d seen him in her dreams—as he did things to her she could never say out loud. Images of last night’s escapades filled her head. Never had she enjoyed bedtime as much as she had the past month.

The smell of something burning brought her back to the present. She pulled the curling iron out of her hair before it ruined her locks and then fixed her lipstick. Clearly, dreaming wasn’t in her best interest. Life had taught her that lesson years ago. If she wanted something, she worked her tail off to get it no matter how many times that tail got kicked in the process. It was like her Aunt Gwen used to say, “When life gives you lemons, throw them back at the sons-of-bitches.” That was exactly what she planned to do.

Saying yes to Stirling fulfilled a very selfish goal for Mary. By going to the charity auction catered by her former asshole employer as his date, she would be wined and dined by the very people who threw her out. The cherry on top was the fact that she hoped to find out if the living, breathing Stirling was even remotely as good in bed as he was in her dreams. The doorbell rang before she could think any deeper on the subject.

Mary scanned her small apartment as she headed to the door. The room was sparsely furnished with mismatched thrift store finds but it was hers. Well, until the first of the month when they would most likely kick her out for not paying rent—until then it was hers.

She sucked in a breath, opened the door, and then stopped breathing all together. Just like in one of her favourite dreams, Stirling stood before her in a dark tuxedo with a black tie. The things he did to her with that tie…

Her face, as well as other parts of her, heated. When she finally met his gaze, she noticed the hungry way he stared at her. “You are beautiful.”

 

 

 

Accidental Witch, Episode 2

Episode Two

By Aubrey Wynne

 

 

“Gus, did you purchase my supplies?”

“Yes, sir,” the chauffeur said over his shoulder, weaving through traffic. “You will be pleased with the pendulum. It’s a brilliant clear amethyst. However, there were no white candles only red.”

“That’s fine. I only need the red for tonight.” Stirling Drake smiled at the fat raindrops now splattering against the windshield. He loved a good storm. “Did you find the sixth volume?”

“It’s on your desk, sir.” At the red light, Gus looked in the rear view mirror. “Will you be needing my assistance before the charity auction tonight?”

Stirling needed to take care of this hex before he left this evening. “No, I think can manage without assistance.” He let out a sigh. “The last thing I want to do is put on a tux tonight.”

“But it’s for a good cause, and she should be there. Speak of the…” He slowed the car. “Is that Miss Reynolds, sir?”

Through the tinted glass, he saw the stunning honey blonde march toward the curb, a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Her purse swung wildly from her wrist as she shook her fist at what appeared to be the heavens. A wicked smile curved Stirling’s lips, and the rain immediately turned into a downpour. The thin material of her dress now clung to her delicious curves.

“I believe the damsel is in distress.” He rolled down the window of the Mercedes. “Can I give you a lift?”

She leaned down, wiped the sodden gold tendrils from her face, and gave him a disgusted look. “If you can improve my day, I’ll go anywhere with you.”

He opened the door, stretched out his long legs, and took the tote from her. “Allow me.” Mary rewarded him with a dazzling smile. She left a trail of water across the dark leather seat as she slid across.

“Mr. Drake, how nice of you. It’s been one hell of a day, and I don’t think it’s noon yet.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not a vengeful person but if I could—”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Miss Reynolds?” The anger flashing in those green eyes sent heat through him. This woman had stirred his blood when he first met her last month. Drake Corporation raised funds each year for literacy, and she had catered the dinner. Asking her out, he had been politely informed that dating clients went against her moral business standard. Stirling vowed then to never hire that caterer in the future.

“So I told that spiteful pastry chef that I’d put a curse on her.” Her head slammed against the back of the soft leather.

Can you put a curse on her?” he asked in a low voice as he slid closer. Stirling’s midnight eyes locked with Gus’ tawny stare in the rear view mirror.

Her laughter seemed incongruous to the previous rant. The sudden switch in mood made her even more attractive. Yes, there was something about this female; she awakened a longing deep inside him.

“Don’t be sil… You’re not serious.” Her full lips pursed slightly, and she gave him a wary look. “Are you?”

“Of course not, Miss Reynolds. However, your misfortune is my good fortune.” He gave her his most charming smile and slowly reached out his hand and brushed a dripping curl behind her ear.

“And how is that?”

“I can no longer be considered a client if you are no longer employed. Perhaps I could share some magic with you over dinner. Would you be my date for the charity auction tonight? I believe an event you were in charge of?”

A grin curved her mouth. “Please, call me Mary.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Accidental Witch Episode 1

Episode One

By Luanna Stewart

 

 

Mary Reynolds clicked save and leaned back in her chair, a feeling of satisfaction at a job well done. The catering for the annual statehouse shindig had been handled by their number-one competitor for years, but thanks to her massive skillz, her employer would make the big bucks.

She glanced around the large open workspace. She’d not worked here very long, and she wasn’t exactly friends with any of the staff, but she felt accepted. Mostly. Her gaze went to the one cloud in her otherwise sunny sky. She had no clue what she’d done to piss off the pastry chef. But as her older brother always said, it is what it is.

Her office phone buzzed. The summons to the big boss’s presence. She grabbed the printout of the calendar for the next three months, nicely filled thanks to her hard work, and skipped into the lair.

“You’re fired.” He kept his gaze on the menswear catalogue he was flipping through.

“Wait, what?” Mary’s heart zipped into overdrive.

“You are fired.”

“I don’t understand.” Her boss had finally gone off the deep end. The pressure of doing dick all day had finally gotten to him.

“Which word is tripping you up?”

Bastard. Rubbing her lack of a college degree in her face as usual. She’d completed enough credits for three degrees. They just weren’t all in the same subject. Or at the same school. “Why am I fired?” Sweat trickled between her boobs.

“There’ve been too many complaints.”

Whoa. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

He flung a file across his high-tech glass and steel desk that probably cost as mush as her car. Probably more, given the sad excuse for a car she could afford. “It’s all documented, so don’t waste your time going after a wrongful dismissal suit.”

Mary snatched the folder and flicked through—shit—over a dozen incident reports. What the fuck? Inebriated? She hardly ever drank. Who could afford booze? Incomplete project? Bullshit. The only project she wasn’t happy with was when she was forced to work with that pastry bitch. Yeah, there was her signature.

“This is a witch hunt.” She shook the folder, wanting to smack him upside the head.

“And don’t try any discrimination nonsense. I believe in religious freedom as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.” He circled a picture in the catalogue. Skinny jeans. Not in his lifetime.

“What the Hades are you talking about?”

He heaved himself from his custom leather chair, quite a feat, and circled the desk. He pulled a sheet from the stack in the folder and held it three inches from her face.

She squinted. Satanic ritual.

“Okay, this isn’t funny anymore.” She snatched the paper from his meaty hand and read further. “I lit a candle, a balsam scented candle, because it was freaking Christmas, and I wanted to create a festive atmosphere in this dungeon. It had nothing to do with summoning be-ell-za whats it.”

“Pack up your desk and leave within the hour, or I’ll call security.” He settled in his chair and sighed, done with his exercise for the day.

“We don’t have security.” Ass. What they had was a mom-and-pop catering business, located in the basement of a strip mall, operated by the spoiled brat of the mom and the pop. “You haven’t heard the last from me.”

“Threatening your boss now?”

“You’re not my boss anymore.” She left the office, slamming the door, and faced the assembled crowd. No pitchforks. But plenty of knives. Which made sense given the large space was basically a huge kitchen. She’d never felt threatened by a paring knife before, but in Johnny’s hand, dripping with the juice of strawberries he was slicing for the compote for that afternoon’s reception at the mayor’s house, the reception she’d put on their books, suddenly the atmosphere seemed menacing.

Head held high, she marched to her little corner and started emptying her desk drawers into her tote bag. A shadow fell across the desk. She knew who it was based on the smell. Waves of cloying camellia hit her nose, bringing on a sneeze.

“You got what you wanted. I have no idea why you hate me, but I take solace in that fact that karma will right this wrong.” Mary met the steely gaze of the pastry chef. “Or maybe I’ll put a curse on you.”

She smirked as the other woman turned pale, and then turned tail and scuttled back to her workstation. Bitch.

Lugging her tote and her purse, she climbed the stairs. Not to worry, she’d get another job. She was damn good at organizing other people, and she’d made valuable contacts amongst the local movers and shakers. She’d be employed in no time, certainly before her next mortgage payment was due.

She stepped outside just as the sky opened. So much for the weather forecast, which had called for another hot and sunny day. Within seconds she was soaked, and her car was at the far side of the parking lot. Bloody, bloody hell.

A sleek black foreign car pulled to a stop in front of her, and the passenger side window lowered. “Can I give you a lift?”

She leaned down to see who the idiot was blocking her path.

Merger, Episode 11

by Kishan Paul

Home

 

Holt sat in the living room of Mr Wright’s eight acre ranch fiddling with Betty Lou’s car keys. Wright’s daughter, Theresa, was seated across from him, crying her eyes out. Betty Lou sat beside her holding the woman’s hand and glaring at Holt all at the same time.

He nodded and put the keys on the table and tried to act like he wasn’t in a rush. Like the future of the company didn’t solely rest on the shoulders of the woman in front of him who, for the past ten minutes, had done nothing but cry.

“How did you find out?” Theresa asked after she blew her nose.

Guilt flashed across Betty Lou’s face. “Your father kept a copy of all your medical records, including the delivery, on his computer. When he asked for me to get copies of his health documents, I accidently scanned your files too.”
He fought the urge to smile. The little sex machine was a damn good liar.

Theresa nodded. “It was bound to come out. I was fifteen and dumb. Lance wouldn’t have had a chance at a good life if I’d kept him, I knew that much. It’s why when Daddy said we should give him away, I didn’t argue. As hard as Daddy was on me all these years, can you imagine how things would have turned out if I’d kept the baby?”

Holt leaned forward and listened as Betty Lou questioned the woman. “So why let your Daddy’s sister adopt him instead of a stranger?”

She shrugged. “That way I could still be in his life.”

Betty Lou handed her a new Kleenex. “But you never told him the truth?”

“I wanted to so many times but Daddy wouldn’t let me.” Her voice trailed off as a new set of sobs took over.

Betty Lou hugged the woman. “That must have been hard for you.”

The older blonde nodded. “It was and Lance was different. He didn’t want Aunt Linda or Momma or even me, just Daddy. The one person who would never love him. ”

Holt cleared his throat, he was going in for the kill. “Theresa, what if you told him now? What if you could still help him?”

Holt stopped at the empty receptionist desk, savouring the excitement flowing through his veins. He scanned the space. The whole building was empty, complements of the asshole. But he was about to change all that.

He pulled out Betty Lou’s laptop and reviewed the email he’d composed for the legal team one final time. A smile of satisfaction stretched across his face as he hit send. This company was solidly BCI’s and no one would ever tell him to leave again. Lance Burnham was about to have his ass thrown into the nearest dumpster and Holt planned on doing the honors.

He slid the laptop into the bottom drawer of the desk and rushed to catch up with the two women he brought with him. Betty Lou had a hand wrapped around Theresa’s elbow, guiding her down the hall. He knew Betty Lou well enough to know the hand was there to reassure and calm the other woman, and from the looks of it, it was working.

She was impressing him more and more by the second. Her brain, her wit. Then there was the way her hips swayed when she walked, like they currently did. From the first time he laid eyes on her to now, she kept making things hard for him. Once this mess was cleaned up, he had every intention of stripping her out of that tight pink fabric covering her ass and…

He shook the thoughts from his head and walked faster. First things first, he needed to throw out the trash.

Holt felt a slight twinge of pity for Lance. The sad thing was Holt would have helped the guy out, even given him a job at the company if Lance had handled it the right way. But he hadn’t and the man needed to be stopped.

Now.

Holt maneuvered past the women and headed for the office he would again claim as his own. He opened the door and froze.

Lance leaned against the edge of the desk a few feet in front of Holt. He had a gun pointed at Carina while she sat in the office chair working on the computer. “It looks like the MVP’s come back to play. Come in. Maybe you can help Redhead Barbie over here with a little project.”

Holt stepped in and shut the door behind him and hoped the gunman hadn’t noticed Betty Lou and Theresa behind him in the hall.

His mind raced as he scanned Carina for injuries. Their eyes locked and when he shot her a questioning look, she shook her head, letting him know she wasn’t hurt.

He took a step closer and stared down the man in front of him. “What do you want from her? You already got the company.”

Lance laughed and shook his head. “Everything.”

Holt sized him up, trying to judge if the man really was crazy enough to kill. Before he could finish, the door to the office slammed into his back, pushing him forward.

He used the force of the door and lunged onto Lance, grabbing the hand holding the gun. In one quick twist, he had the weapon flipped over pointed at the gunman. Lance screamed in pain as his finger and wrist bent in unnatural directions seconds before the gun fired.

 

Merger, Episode 10

Lena Hart

http://www.lenahartsite.com/

She really didn’t have time for this shit.

Carina’s grip tightened around her cellphone as she kept her gaze trained on the road ahead. “Holt, would you make up your mind. I thought you wanted me to get to Mick right away. What changed?”

“There’s no time to get into it now, but trust me. It’s big.”

“But Holt—”

“Damn it, Carina. I said, trust me. Now I’m going to call the sheriff’s office. Just meet us back at the office.”

Carina gritted her teeth and ended the call with Holt. She made a quick U-turn and headed back to the office. Whatever Holt had discovered about Lance Burnham had to be big. He wouldn’t tell her what it was over the phone, but it was serious enough for him to forego their initial plan to talk to their lawyer and instead return back to confront the man. With the sheriff, no less?

What the hell is going on?

She blew out a frustrated breath. It was days like this that she wanted to walk away from it all and open that yoga studio in Houston. But then she thought about all the work she’d put into BCI and Holt’s arrogance that made him think he’d done it all on his own, and she knew she couldn’t give in easily.

Carina made it to the small office building of Wright & Sons and was pleasantly surprised to find her badge still active. She hurried to her office, acutely aware of the lack of people around the office.

Where was everybody?

It wasn’t long for Carina to discover what had happened to everyone. The memo on her desk said it all. It appeared everyone at Wright & Sons/Bastion Coastal Industries had been terminated. Effective immediately. Carina crushed the letter in her palm.

The bastard.

And to think she’d found that son-of-bitch Lance Burnham remotely attractive.

“Carina Marie Stone, you can sure pick ‘em.” She shook her head in disgust. Between Lance Burnham and Holt Bastion, she had horrific taste in men.

Carina, however, would be damned if she let either men screw with her career.

She marched to Holt’s office, ready to confront the bastard that was not only trying to destroy what she’d worked hard to achieve, but who had also just screwed over so many hardworking employees in the process. She pushed the door to the large office open, but what she walked into was a sight that surprised her into a halt.

“What are you doing?”

Lance glanced up from the papers he was shredding and cursed. He straightened and rounded the desk toward her.

Still stunned, Carina glanced around the now cluttered office and stared pointedly at the piles of shredded documents. “What the hell is all this?”

Lance followed her gaze then turned back to her, his pale green eyes becoming as cold as the Arctic. “What is it with you people?” Without warning, he pulled a semi-automatic from the back of his waistband and Carina’s stomach dropped. “What part of hostile takeover don’t you get?”

She threw her hands up, terror causing her legs to tremble as she kept her eyes trained on the fierce looking gun in his hands. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

Lance shrugged. “Maybe. Guess that’s what happens when you have parents who don’t want you and a bitch of a fiancée who cheats on you weeks before your wedding. Hard to care about anything when you have nothing left to lose.” He waved the gun toward her. “Now get in here and shut the damn door.”