WEAK Part One: A Thornhill Road Romance Read online

  Part One

  Copyright 2014 Drew Sinclair

  Published by Drew Sinclair at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Start Reading WEAK Part One

  Other Books by Drew Sinclair

  About Drew

  Connect with Drew

  Acknowledgements

  To all the family, friends and mentors who have made this possible - I hope you all know how truly grateful I really am.

  Disclaimer and Warning

  This free or very reasonably priced eBook contains sexual content, bad language, scenes of a romantic nature, scenes of a gratuitously hot and steamy nature, heart pounding suspense and occasional offbeat humor.

  It is also part one of a single book and contains a cliffhanger, mid-action, non-finale ending, the idea of which is to encourage you to buy part two and to continue reading on for your extreme enjoyment and intense pleasure. You can also download the complete story (very soon) as one single book if you prefer to read it that way.

  If any of these elements are not to your taste then please turn back now - no hard feelings, we can still be friends.

  If you are still with me, then uncork the chilled Champagne and loosen up that blouse because things are about to get mighty hot in here…

  Love & Hugs,

  Drew.

  Intro

  He was standing right in front of me, all suited and booted - hand cut and tailor made - clean-shaven, in his late twenties or early thirties and hot as any GQ model.

  My head began to clear rapidly as he held up a phone towards me. It was an iPhone 6 Plus, complete with 5.5 inch HD display and that was my underwear revealed in glowing, high contrast, dual domain pixels.

  I knew they were mine because that was me holding them up in the picture right next to my slutty, smiling face.

  Was that really me? Could I really look that way?

  God help me, I guess I could.

  Thank you Apple Inc.

  Thank you for those extra two inches of retina HD, they really capture the moment.

  He turned the phone back to face him and began reading.

  "Look at these perfect tits," his eyes stayed fixed on the screen, "look at this sexy ass." He looked back at me and my heart froze as I met his gaze. The words were achingly, gut wrenchingly familiar. "You know you want me," he continued, "and you know you want these. They're mine. I was hot in them, " he paused, "for you."

  He turned the phone to me again.

  "By 'these' Victoria, I presume you mean your panties. Am I correct?"

  Those were my words alright and those were my panties, but I had no earthly clue who this asshole was or how he had gotten a hold of that picture…

  Chapter One

  My Name is Vincent Medici and I never forget a face.

  Especially not a face I intend to come all… scratch that.

  Let me begin again.

  I never forget a face. Especially not a pretty face, but when that face comes attached to a body you want to fuck over and over again, it becomes even harder to forget. Add to that a text message promising to blow my mind and a pair of panties shoved virtually underneath my nose and this was an image that would be scorched into my brain for a lifetime.

  I should have deleted it immediately but then again, why throw away something as beautiful and exciting as that?

  Dumb question.

  I hadn't been able to get the image out of my brain all night and had to keep checking my phone again and again for another look, just one more look and then another one last look as I tossed and turned in my bed.

  When I walked into the foyer next morning and saw that same face working reception right smack in front of me, my heart nearly stopped.

  This bullshit was going to end right then and there.

  I walked up to her and took out my phone. I watched her eyes closely as I showed her the picture and I knew in one second for damn sure that it was the same woman. Her name tag said Victoria. The victorious one. Not this time little girl. If this was some kind of clumsy blackmail attempt I would shut it down before it even started.

  Her pretty face took in the image on my phone and when she looked up at me I thought she would shove the copy of Scientific American she was reading down my throat.

  What was a sleazy little blackmailer doing reading that?

  "Get out of here." She said. Sexy voice I should mention. "Whoever you are, get out of here now, before I call security."

  "Go ahead and call them." I said. It would have been funny if she had, considering I owned the building. In fact, I own several buildings and I make sure that security staff in each of them know exactly who I am.

  I should start doing the same with my reception staff, although I was pretty sure that once we were done this particular employee would never forget my face again as long as she lived.

  It would be only fair - after all, her face, no, rewind - her face, her body, her cute round little ass and her damned panties are burned into my mind forever, so why shouldn't she have something to remember me by in return?

  Not that having any of that permanently in my head was really a problem, bearing in mind how cute the little deviant was.

  She picked up her desk phone but I reached over and pushed her hand back down. Her whole body bristled with resistance.

  Fuck if that wasn't a turn on already.

  We were already way too close together and nothing about it felt right.

  I was her boss, even if she didn’t know it yet. Despite the fact that she had sexted me I would be taken to the cleaners if it looked like I had subsequently harassed her as a result of her indiscretion.

  "Take your hand off me." She hissed. Her perfume smelled fantastic, intoxicating - it was Channel with a hint of boiling rage.

  "I'll take it away as long as you don't call security." I said.

  "Give me one good reason not to." If she was faking not knowing who I was then she was doing an awesome job, because no one at Medici Investments would dare speak to me like that - not if they valued their job anyway.

  "My name is Vincent Medici." I said, waiting for the penny to drop.

  No result. She blanked me.

  I was beginning to believe the name really didn't mean anything to her.

  "And?" She said.

  "Who hired you?" Whoever it was had the reaming of their lives waiting for them.

  "Sir." She said with an edge of sarcasm that made my cock twitch.

  Don’t ask me why because we all know these things don't make scintilla of sense, but that was the exact moment I decided, definitively, that I had to have her. I would make her call me sir again with that sassy, snotty little voice right before I made her come all over herself in my bed.

  Strapped down if need be.

  And by the looks of it this one would need it.

  It's always the little smart-mouth, high-decibel girls who get off most on restraint - the more the lady protests, the more it all sounds like a desperate cry to be tied down and fucked to hollaback heaven and back.

  "I'm giving you one last chance." She said. "Leave now or I'll have security throw you out."

 
She wasn't backing down. Was I wrong about this one? Was it really a scam? A crude plot to get me to act inappropriately on CCTV in my own building?

  I released her hand and stood back. I held up my phone again for her to see herself on screen one more time and it had the desired effect.

  God damn if her angry little face didn’t redden up even more seeing herself sticking her sweet little ass out for the camera and waving her panties around.

  And I hadn’t even showed her the video clip yet.

  She was angry as a wildcat but smart enough to see that her little game was backfiring. I watched chunks of pride go down her throat sideways.

  "Whoever you are, you weren't supposed to get that." She said.

  "How did you get my private number?" I needed an answer to that question and I would get it. One way or another. Her filthy little proposition had come in on my the line I reserve for family and close friends only. It was serious breach of security and the other reason I couldn’t get the image of her ass, her face and her panties out of my brain.

  "I didn't send you that picture. I don't have your number. It was obviously sent to you by mistake. I apologize and I would appreciate if you would delete it immediately."

  "I'm afraid I can't do that Victoria." And lose the only piece of incriminating evidence against a potential blackmailer? No way. Besides, it was a good picture. Even better video. "Not until I know how you got this number."

  "I told you, the picture was sent to you by mistake. I would appreciate very much if you would kindly delete it."

  Boy was she hot and bothered having to ask me for a favor like that. If she had been planning to screw me over then it was backfiring badly.

  I shook my head and laughed.

  "What's so funny?"

  I stopped laughing and smiled at her.

  "You. You're so funny."

  Hell if that didn’t rile her up even more. I was beginning to have fun. Clueless blackmail attempt from otherwise hot ass receptionist foiled before 9am. I was having fun. It was a break from routine and a more interesting start to the day than anything I had expected.

  "I'm giving you one last chance." She hissed at me again. "Delete that picture, right here in front of me, if you're any kind of gentleman, and then leave. If you don’t, then I will call security and have them throw you out. But not before they get your ID so I can file charges against you for trespassing, stalking and sexual harassment."

  The smile left my face instantly. So that was the angle. Disgruntled employee files for sexual harassment by sending ridiculous 'sext' to her boss. Worst plan ever. But who the hell had given her my number? That was a far more serious issue and one I couldn’t dismiss.

  "There's an easy way to settle this Victoria. Take a look at the number this message was sent from." I held my phone out so that could she read the sender number.

  There was no mistaking it. The look on her face told me instantly that the number was hers and the look of confusion that followed was the most convincing I've ever seen. Then slowly, slowly some kind of realization began to dawn. It was priceless. Her gaping mouth closed and that pretty little head began to burn in scorching, red faced, swallow-me-whole-into-the-earth embarrassment.

  "I take it that is you number then."

  "Shit." Her voice was barely a whisper.

  "That picture really wasn't meant for you." She said. I was beginning to believe her.

  "I don’t care about the picture. I need to know how you got my number?"

  "It's got to be a miss-dial. One digit out. It can happen."

  She had gone from bright red to alabaster pale. Hotter than ever. Sun tans have never done it for me and there's something about pale skin on a woman I've always loved. Maybe it's the flush that comes into it when I fuck them so hard that they forget what their last name is or maybe it's because of who they are, the nerdy ones, the ones who never see the sun because they're indoors all summer long with their nose in a book or in front of a computer… no screw that, it’s the post orgasm flush for sure.

  "I find that hard to believe. No-one dials anymore Ms. Price. They put numbers into their phones and then swipe."

  "The number must have gone in wrong. I apologize. Truly. You've got to believe me. The woman in that picture is not me. I mean, it clearly is me but…."

  "Stop talking Victoria. It’s not the picture I mind. I like the picture." Her mouth dropped open again. I held her gaze, reading her, searching her.

  She was into it. I can always tell.

  She didn't want to be into it, there was resistance, but I knew she was. Those sexy green eyes of couldn't lie to me.

  "Please, I know I'm screwed here, whoever you are. Please just delete it. It was an accident a horrible, horrible, extremely embarrassing mistake."

  I should have deleted it, but then again, I don’t believe in accidents and I don't believe in throwing away golden opportunities. I read a book once that said every encounter with another living being, no matter how fleeting, contains some particular meaning for both parties.

  I knew exactly what the encounter with this one meant and I intended to fuck the living hell out of it.

  "I'll delete it." I said. "I'll even let you delete it." She breathed a sigh of relief that made my balls ache. It was the kind of little gasp you hear just after you've gone down on her for the first time. If I had entertained any notions of walking away from this then they were now well and truly gone.

  "I'll delete it on one condition." I said. Her pretty face hardened and I loved it. She wasn’t going down without a fight. "You can delete it over dinner tonight."

  She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice.

  "If you were any kind of gentleman you would delete that message right now."

  I was grateful for the thick marble reception counter that separated us.

  "Who said I was any kind of gentleman?"

  The look she gave me made me wonder if even the counter was enough to save me but then her phone rang. Saved by the bell.

  "You better get that." I smiled at her, knowing it would drive her wild but unable to help myself. Infuriation and infatuation are so narrowly separated. It wouldn’t be long before I learned by just exactly how much.

  Chapter Two

  I didn’t want to pick up that phone. Not while he was standing there with the unbearably smug grin on his handsome face. On the other hand, I didn’t want to ruin this latest gig. It might only be temporary reception work but there was always the chance that a job like that could go permanent and I knew that this particular building was owned by a large, highly innovative venture capital firm.

  Medici Investments.

  Medici. Investments.

  Medici.

  ….

  It hit me like a cold wet fish in the kisser.

  I looked at the sculptured GQ face in front of me.

  Vincent Medici.

  Oh Crap.

  My head began to spin. I felt off balance.

  That's what happens when someone who never drinks gets lured into quaffing Champagne with her decadent, well-paid and much more successful friends.

  Utter confusion, idiocy, embarrassment. All the opposite of who I really am, but this man would never believe that now.

  My desk phone was ringing.

  Saved by the bell. I picked it up and the voice on the other end of the line was Carmen Villegas, head of Medici HR. She had been kind enough to give me a walk-through of the company the day before. It was a lot more courtesy than I usually got as a lowly temp starting in a new assignment.

  "Hello Victoria, has Vincent come through reception yet?"

  "He'll be with you shortly Carmen." She had insisted on a first name basis even though I was only scheduled for a three week slot on her payroll.

  "Thanks Victoria. It's about time. Oh, and Victoria?"

  "Yes Carmen?"

  "Vince will be here for the whole day. Try not get in his way, he's a little on the uh, intense side."

  "I'll do my best."<
br />
  "And one more thing."

  "Yes?"

  "If he misbehaves himself in anyway, you just let me know, okay?"

  If he misbehaves himself?

  "Thank you Carmen."

  "Was that Villegas?" He asked.

  My brain was reeling. I was still dizzy and now physically sick. I heard his words but they didn't register in any meaningful way.

  "Victoria. Hello? Victoria." He leaned his beautiful head in and stared right at me with those intense blue eyes of his. Another slap in the face only this time not with a wet fish. He was possibly the most gorgeous man I had ever seen, he owned the building I was working in, he owned the company I was desperate to pitch to, and worst of all, he owned a picture of me behaving like a spoiled, drunken sorority brat waving a pair of my worn panties around and promising to….

  Oh God, I couldn’t bear to think about it.

  "Mr. Medici." My voice sounded weak. He smiled. Smug asshole.

  "That is me."

  I was officially speechless.

  "You haven't been here long Victoria, have you?"

  I shook my head. There was nowhere to run, no rock to crawl under, no gaping hole in the earth to jump into.

  "I'll go on up now." He said. I nodded my head and his beautiful face swam around in my vision like a mask in a dream.

  "Of course Mr. Medici. Go right up."

  "Why thank you. But before I go, I still need that answer from you."

  I was lost. So totally lost.

  "What answer Mr. Medici?"

  "Tonight. Dinner. And of course, this." He held up his phone. That damn picture. That damn text.

  "I don’t want to go to dinner with you." I heard the words come out of my mouth like I was a puppet with someone else pulling the strings, however, it was the truth. If it’s one thing I've never been afraid of, it's speaking my mind.

  Maybe it's something I should learn to be afraid of.

  Only ten minutes earlier I would have dived headlong at the opportunity to have dinner with this man - the infamous Vincent Medici. Infamous in the geeky world of penniless inventors looking for financial backing. This was the mid-town venture capitalist with all of the expertise in precisely the kind of patents that I spend every waking moment of time trying to develop when I'm not playing gypsy receptionist all over Manhattan island.