Jake Page 20

  Emily felt at last her life was exactly how she’d always hoped it would be. The pain of her attack would always be with her and sometimes it hit her at odd moments, but she now had a large support network of family and friends. She had accepted the offer of training and guiding new subs from Ash. Adrian was her first charge, and he had blossomed as a submissive, much to the delight of Ash and the other club members.

  It wasn’t long before Emily and Jake fell into a routine. They would attend the club most Friday and Saturdays, sometimes adding Sunday and the occasional Thursday night if they knew any of their close friends were going. Jake was content to let his staff run the office and the building sites. He now only went into the office one or twice a week, confident everything was running as it should. Emily was still working as an illustrator. She loved the work, and Jake encouraged her to continue it even though they didn’t need the money. He continually told her how proud he was of her and her achievement.

  One Thursday night they called into the club when Steven and Avril had suggested going. It was late November, and the weather was turning colder. They played on one of the stages and then joined Steven and Avril for a late coffee around one-thirty.

  Steven played barista. Then, when they were all settled at one of the tables, Emily asked, “How long is Ash away, Steven?”

  “Five weeks all up, Em. He should be back the second week of January. He flew out on Monday with his family and then, when they get back here, he’s going to a week-long conference. Hopefully he gets some great ideas about whether we open the restaurant and, more importantly, whether it is financially viable.”

  “Makes sense. I mean you’d be really silly to do the work if it wouldn’t bring in income.”

  “Very true, Em. Of course, we’d have to figure in costs. At the moment there’s no charge for the snacks we have, but if we start providing proper three course dinners then either we up the fees or charge per meal. I’d prefer to charge per meal. It would be fairer on those who don’t eat here. Probably change the fee structure, since it would mean the snacks weren’t included any more. Not sure yet, I’ll leave it to the financial whizz.”

  Emily was puzzled, but Jake said, “He means Ash. The guy runs numbers in his head.”

  “Oh, I remember him talking to me about investments when I said I wanted to lock some money away.”

  “You should listen to what he says, Em. He’s got a Midas touch. He does all the investments for the club as well as mine, Kaden’s, Jake here and a few other club members.”

  “I remember Jake told me Ash had studied business management and finances at university.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, he did accounting as well. Loves numbers, even when we were at school, remember how he was playing the stock market, Steve? His father used to get him to work at his cabinet making business after school and in the holidays. He’d pay him, and Ash used that money. Pretty soon his father was getting him to invest his own money. Then his father started that import business that turned out millions.”

  “That’s right! Made his dad a fortune and then helped us to make ours. He still manages it all.”

  Pierre came out with a tray of small cakes and a coffee for himself. He pulled out a chair and sat.

  “Evening all. Help yourself.”

  “You’re running late. Thought you’d have left by now.”

  “I wanted to get the prep organized and a few extras done because I promised Julie I’d go with her to check out new couches before I come back in.”

  Avril and Emily laughed. Pierre had sounded so miserable.

  “Cheer up, Pierre, at least you’ll be able to choose ones that you like.”

  “I guess so.”

  Emily almost laughed at the morose frown on his face. It was obvious he wasn’t looking toward tomorrow, or rather today’s, shopping excursion. He finished his coffee and bid them all a goodnight, leaving the room after the crazy suggestions as to what couches he should pick. The rest finished their coffee and polished off the last of the cakes then stood. Kisses all round, the four of them headed out to the car park.

  “Damn cold!”

  “I’ll say. See you tomorrow night.”

  “Will do. Night all.”

  The End

  www.suzyshearer.com

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  BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

  HER DOM’S SECRET PAST

  Suzy Shearer

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  Anabelle

  After I’d unpacked and had a cuppa, it was finally time to do nothing more than relax. I’d come to a nice secluded private beach resort to recharge for a few weeks. The landowner had built seven luxury villas along a one and a half kilometer of beautiful beach shoreline, each villa separated by plenty of trees and shrubs. From every place it was impossible to see another, and it gave the impression of being in the middle of nowhere and all alone. Exactly what I needed. It was mid-May, Monday the fourteenth, to be exact. Two whole weeks of relaxation. When I’d signed in and collected my key, I’d been told two villas had occupants—a couple who would be leaving the next day while the only other villa in use was booked from tomorrow until my last week.

  Perfect!

  These were not the sort of cabins you’d find in a caravan park—these were the epitome of luxury. Each one as large as a two-bedroom house, fitted out with no expense spared. I’d been assured that nothing was too much trouble. The manager had confidently told me if there was anything I wanted, all I needed do was pick up the house phone and it would be delivered—twenty-four hours a day.

  In the online brochure, when I had been searching for somewhere to stay, the villas had looked lovely, but now, in real life, they were even better. Large, discretely hidden among the trees, the whole front open to the beach and a “couples or singles only” policy. I was assured the place was safe and secure. I could confidently leave the building open with no concerns of anything being stolen or of anyone entering.

  Built on the headland, and open to the general public, was also a restaurant tucked at the entrance to the complex.

  I’d parked my car in the undercover garage, gone up the stairs, and walked onto the long, wide, covered patio facing out onto the clean sands of the beach, complete with a table, chairs, sun lounges, and a barbecue. With each step, my body unwound from the tight spring I’d kept it in for over a year. While unlocking the glass front door, I discovered I could push the whole front wall of glass to one side and it folded magically away.

  The entire house was open planned with large, polished off-white floor tiles except for the bedroom and bathroom.

  A split level meant I had to go up three stairs to the kitchen, a sleek masterpiece of dark wood and light marble. A well-appointed pantry was hidden away and a big double-doored fridge was well-stocked with food. When booking, I’d been asked about my food preferences, foods liked and disliked. It meant looking into this pantry and fridge was like looking into my own. Milk, fresh meat if I ate it, and vegetables would be delivered every three days—perfect. Freshly baked breads, cakes, and pastries would be delivered daily—all I needed to do was ring in my order early in the morning.

  A beautiful fruit basket stood on the counter with three bottles of Moscato, my choice, as well as a lovely arrangement of fresh flowers. I put the Moscato in the fridge after picking a tuberose from the vase and tucking it behind my ear.

  One side of the house had sliding doors which opened onto a small tiled patio with a heated lap pool and a Jacuzzi. I’d definitely be taking advantage of them!

  Investigating further, I went up a dozen steps leading into an enormous bedroom with a king-sized bed. A thick, plush, and very soft beige carpet had me scrunching up my toes in delight. I stood w
ith my back to the bed then flopped backward onto it, a huge grin on my face. More gifts—chocolates on the bed bounced across it as I landed on a fluffy bathrobe. The view of the beach took up the whole glass wall which could also be pushed aside. Getting to my feet, I ate one of the chocolates while I discovered another covered patio above the main living areas of the house. Close to the window, two chairs set either side of a low coffee table.

  The whole place was light and airy with high ceilings and simply reeked of opulence.

  The bathroom shone as the final jewel in the crown. Beautiful marble and gleaming glass, with an enormous shower and a free-standing bath which was set in front of a huge window. Again, the wall folded opened. Here, the glass was frosted, and if I was worried someone could see in, I could keep the glass closed. Although being on the second floor of the house, I doubted anyone could.

  The bathroom was on the corner alongside the bedroom. I could imagine myself lying back in the tub, sipping a glass of wine while watching the waves roll onto the sand or studying the wildlife in the forest alongside. The enormous shower had glass walls so I could see all the tree ferns and shrubs. I thought it would give the illusion of showering outside. Unlit candles were scattered on the benches and the sides of the tub.

  The large covered patio stretched across the front of the house, tiled with the same tiles throughout the lower levels of the house. With only four steps down, I would be able to crunch the sand under my toes. I’d certainly be sitting and reading if I didn’t feel like going down onto the beach. In my mind, these few weeks would re-invigorate me. I hoped to recharge my batteries, accept what had been happening over the past few years and move on. I intended to come back a whole new me, one who no longer cowered behind the door or who looked a people with distrust.

  I’d selected the villa on the very end because it butted up to the National Park. I’d been told each morning and evening the local wildlife came out to feed on the grass alongside. It would be wonderful to see later, but now it was time to forget the rest of the world and soak up the atmosphere. It was time to forget the past and relax.

  I changed into a pair of ragged shorts—cut-off jeans, actually, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. After tossing my shoes under a chair on the patio, I headed down to the beach and stood admiring the view for at least ten minutes. It was almost three in the afternoon and the view was spectacular. This private beach had a headland of rocks either end. As I was close to one end, I had a myriad of rock pools, as well as beach front to choose from to investigate. It delighted me to see an enormous rock at the mid-tide point attached to the long rock shelf. It was large enough for at least two dozen people to sit, and on one end it had been worn away enough to have formed a sort of backrest. It would be perfect to sit and read on, providing it didn’t get covered by the incoming tide. I’d have to check.

  Wandering down to the water’s edge, I gingerly let the gentle waves leap about my feet. It was cold but not unbearably. This year the summer in Eastern Australia had been the hottest on record and had lingered through March and April with temperatures in the high twenties and early thirties. Even now in May it was still warm, and I figured it was the reason why the water wasn’t so cold. In fact, I probably could have swam comfortably, even though this beach was on the far south coast of New South Wales.

  Wading along to the start of the rocks, I began poking in rock pools while keeping one eye on the incoming tide. As I clambered about, I found a sun-heated rock pool to sit and paddle my toes in. Tomorrow, if I could remember, I’d bring my camera down and get some shots of the Tasman Sea, the waves, and the rocks, but today was all about exploring.

  I worked my way along and over the headland until I came to a high buff that blocked my way.

  I stretched and began to unwind. I needed this big time. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d truly switched off. My work had been tiring for a great many years. I was thankful I now had excellent staff and could safely leave things in their capable hands. After decades of hard work, I’d made it as a successful high-end bridal designer and dressmaker. My boutique was based in Hornsby, and my staff were generally run off their feet with all our orders.

  At last, I could pick and choose who I designed for and how much I charged. I was in demand. My business had gone from strength to strength, until now—at fifty-five, I had eight on my staff, a home, well, an apartment, actually, in Asquith, no debts, and a decent bank balance. Enough money to splurge on this holiday in such an exclusive place.

  In my mind, it was the perfect place to get away from everything and everyone.

  And one person topped the list—my stalker—Ed Baines.

  Just over a year and a half ago, I had dated Ed for maybe a month. We went out maybe three times, at the most four—and before you ask, no, I didn’t sleep with him. It didn’t take long to discover he was a manipulative, arrogant bastard, and I quickly got out of the relationship before it even got started. Unfortunately, he didn’t like the fact I said no whenever he asked me out again.

  At first it was the odd phone call or email saying ‘hello’, ‘would I like to go out for a meal’. But with each refusal, he got angrier and angrier. The next six months he stalked me in earnest.

  After the first month, I started living on my nerves, waiting, wondering when he’d do something. In the end I went to the police, but not much could be done without proof.

  Ed was interviewed but expressed surprise and sorrow that I was being subjected to stalking.

  Following the advice of the police, I changed my landline phone number and got a new number for my cell phone. Changed all my email addresses, although I did have to keep my business one.

  All those months of continual harassment had made me afraid to go out unless I had someone with me. I had become afraid of my own shadow. Afraid to answer the phone, to check my emails, to even open the door.

  I became withdrawn, rarely leaving the protection of my home. Before all of this, I’d been a confident, single woman with the world at my feet. But that all changed as I became reclusive.

  No one could understand why I was withdrawing. They thought with the threat of Ed gone, I should have been okay, and to be honest, I should have been. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t trust anymore. It was all I could do to live from day to day.

  I tried, I tried hard to push past the terror, to live again, but each time I ended up acknowledging the fear rising up to choke me. I became a loner. Only two couples stuck by me—Becky and Cass Lees, and Charlie Lyton and Justin. I had no idea what I would have done without them. They saved my sanity. They held my hand when the darkness threatened and helped me as I slowly tried to rebuild my life, my confidence. It took me almost a year, but at last I reached a point where I could see people without thinking they might hurt me. Slowly, I rebuilt my trust.

  It was Cass who suggested I get away and recharge. It was him who convinced me I was ready to take this next step. He was the reason I now breathed in the clean salty air. And as I took in that deep breath, I knew he was right.

  Clambering back over the rocks, I reached the edge of the rock shelf and watched the waves crashing against it, the salt spray invigorating.

  I couldn’t help myself, I took a deep breath and shouted, “Okay, Anabelle Rowley, it’s time to get rid of the past and grab life again.”

  Sitting down, I dangled my legs over the edge of the rocks touching the water with my toes. I knew I’d get wet but I didn’t care. I wanted the sea to cleanse me, to make me whole again. Except I didn’t expect the set of waves that followed. Within less than a heartbeat, I was soaked to the skin. After my initial shock, I started to laugh and it was good to be able to. Maybe it was the first real laugh I’d had in many months.

  After getting to my feet, I walked back to the beach, dripping. I still couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. It was as if I were a little kid. Taking a quick glance to make sure no one was around, I did a little dance on the edge of the sand, kicking and splashing the water. I was wet. I f
igured I may as well go the whole hog and dived in under a wave. It was cold, but as I paddled about, I was sure this was one of the best things I’d done in the last ten years.

  Finally, I thought I better get back to the villa. I’d started shivering a little and needed to put on some dry, warm clothes. Revitalized, I climbed from the water and walked up the beach. A late-afternoon chill was creeping into the air as the sun sank lower. I must have been out for a few hours. I went inside and quickly jumped into the shower after peeling off my wet clothes and throwing them into the bath. I’d chuck them into the washer later. The hot water warmed my chilly skin. I closed my eyes and raised my face, letting the water run all over my body. I washed the salt and sand from my hair then finally got out.

  Wrapping a towel around myself, I padded into the kitchen and was surprised to see it was almost four twenty-five. I went to the fridge, opened the door, and stood staring in. Wasn’t sure what I wanted to eat, but I did know I couldn’t be bothered with cooking despite the large chef cooker. Shutting the refrigerator door, I picked up the menu from the restaurant and studied their room service list.

  Mmm, yum.

  After picking up the house phone, I ordered myself a nice vegetarian lasagna with a mango salad and a Macadamia nut cheesecake to be delivered around six-thirty. After giving my villa number, I hung up, pulled on some underwear, jeans, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I dragged a pair of fluffy socks on my feet and surveyed the outside view.