Loving Shade Read online

  LOVING SHADE

  A Golden Heir Novel

  Shayne Ford

  Copyright © 2017 by Shayne Ford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, organizations and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners and have been used without permission and in an editorial fashion only, with no implied endorsement.

  The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with, approved of or sponsored by the trademarks owners.

  This book is for entertainment purposes only. The author and publisher disclaim any and all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly in relation to this book.

  This book is intended for mature audiences only.

  Written by Shayne Ford

  www.shayneford.com

  Twitter:@ShayneFordBooks

  Cover design by Shayne Ford

  The image on the cover is a licensed stock photo, and it is used for illustrative purposes, any person who may be depicted on, is a model.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 19

  Also by Shayne Ford

  About the Author

  1

  TARA

  “Elia Hennessy is here to see you,” Danielle says.

  My pulse spikes, a rivulet of sweat forming on my brow.

  I flick my eyes to the doorway.

  “Elia Hennessy? Me...? Are you sure?” I sputter, not sounding very intelligent or coherent for that matter.

  Danielle nods as she enters my office.

  Her hair is shorter than a couple of weeks ago, her small frame clad in a beige dress with tiny polka dots.

  She parts her lips and tilts her eyebrows up into a silent warning. Before she has the chance to elaborate, entangled voices ring out on the hallway, drifting closer.

  We both swing our eyes to the door.

  A questioning look veils her face as she glances back at me, her eyes beaming with concern.

  Without a word, she turns around and pulls away.

  The door barely cracks open as she tries to sneak outside, when Elia and Claire pull to a stop in front of my office.

  Panic courses through me.

  Raking a nervous hand through my hair, I clear my throat, and run my palm onto my skirt, absently smoothing the fabric.

  Keeping her chin tipped down, Danielle slips out and scurries away.

  I rise to my feet.

  Clad in white–– a fitted jacket with flared sleeves and golden tone buttons paired with a slim fit, pencil skirt–– Elia Hennessy ends her conversation with Claire, dismissing her with a cold smile and a clipped gesture.

  She steps in, glancing around nonchalantly.

  Her amber hair drapes over her shoulders, her perfectly painted lips quirking in a twisted grin as her eyes roll down onto me.

  Hand clasped on her hip, she halts in front of my desk and takes a seat across from me.

  The air gets thinner, my breath catching in my throat.

  She crosses her legs and brushes her skirt with her hand, her eyes following me as I lower myself into my seat.

  A shiver sweeps my spine as she pins her eyes on me.

  “Miss Hart,” she says, somewhat hesitantly.

  I glance at her, disconcerted.

  She ponders over something as if she’s having a hard time deciding whether to dance around the issue or not.

  This can’t be good.

  Elia Hennessy is never good news. But now? No way.

  I’ve crossed her in the worst possible ways. And Shade is no small matter to her.

  She purses her lips one more time as she leans back into her chair and tasers me with her eyes.

  A sly smile curls her lips.

  “I understand you have a certain attraction for my son,” she says, her smile broadening. “Many women have it. In that respect, you’re not alone,” she adds as I dig my nails into my thighs, trying to stop myself from shaking.

  “He is a young man who just started out his business career. He’s learning the ropes right now, and this is his company. I’m sure you know that,” she mutters, sarcasm lining her voice.

  Frozen, I look at her, fighting back a storm of emotions.

  “His focus should be on his business, not some meaningless affair with an employee,” she says bluntly without giving me the benefit of an introduction. “He interrupted his studies to relocate here and work in his family business,” she says, although that is her version of the story. “The expectation is that he’ll do just that. As an ambitious woman yourself, I’m sure you will agree that a solid work ethic is required to succeed in life. As much as fun and play reward hard work and a job well-done, they shouldn’t be an obstacle in achieving the most important goals in life.”

  Expressionless, I listen to her as she's giving me the long version of fuck off.

  “What does it have to do with me?” I ask deadpan.

  A dark shadow flits through her green eyes.

  Her lips quiver as she struggles to contain her fury while at the same time she’s trying to figure out what would be the best way to deal with me.

  Should she crush me now? Or perhaps torment me and put me out of business later on?

  She examines me for a few more moments before she speaks again.

  “You spent one week with him at his summer villa in Italy,” she says, no longer smiling.

  I sense a shit storm coming my way.

  “Your son is an adult. He can do whatever he wants,” I toss at her boldly.

  She looks at me, unimpressed, her lips creased into a disapproving smirk.

  Unfazed, I retort.

  “And he also has the right to spend time with whoever he wants.”

  Her lips curl into a dark smile.

  She straightens her back and leans forward, her elbows sliding onto my desk. Slowly, she laces her fingers together and studies me, amused.

  I brace for the worst.

  “Tara, sweetheart. I know your instinct tells you to protect him. As a woman I certainly understand that, but as a business person you must agree that canceling a week-long worth of business meetings for some romping on the Italian coast is not the best use of his time. Especially now, since he just started working. Don’t you think?”

  My jaw clenches.

  I don’t even know what to say.

  Should I even respond to her? Or should I just tell her to go to hell?

  I’m still an employee of their company, and no matter how evil she is, she is still his mother. Clearing my throat, I look her in the eye.

  “I don’t make the decisions, ma’am. I’m sure you know by now, Shade does exactly what he wants. I don’t have any sway over him.”
/>
  Her brow furrows, her smile fading away as thick displeasure drapes over her face.

  “Oh, yes. I think you do. In fact, I think you have a lot of influence over him. You must be, um… special to him,” she says, irony pouring into in her voice. “He’s never spent so much time with a woman before, and definitely, has never romanced one. You two spending some time in Italy is not an accident. With this being said, if he really means something to you, Miss Hart, you should encourage him to work instead of wasting his time with you. You want the best for him, I imagine. Don’t you?”

  A cunning smile glints across her lips.

  My gaze slides off her face, my eyes lingering on her brooch long enough to prompt her to clear her throat.

  I swing my gaze up.

  “What exactly are you telling me, Ms. Hennessy?”

  “Try to refrain from distracting him when his mind needs to focus on his job,” she says, her eyes pulverizing me.

  She pauses for a moment, her eyes boring into mine as she’s fighting the temptation to give me a piece of her mind for real.

  “I also think that it’s beneficial for your career to give your undivided attention to your work instead of engaging in a scandalous relationship with my son,” she says.

  The blood drains from my face.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means,” she says, her pointed look making me bleed inside.

  “Can you be more specific?” I ask, irritated, fully aware that I’m pushing it. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  Her eyes throw flames.

  “I want you to stop seeing my son.”

  Her words hit me hard.

  For a moment, I glance away, grappling with my anger, and then I gaze back at her, a sad smile crawling on my lips.

  “I love your son,” I say unequivocally with a calm voice.

  The light dies out in her eyes.

  Frozen, she stares at me.

  “If he decides he no longer wants to see me, that’s fine. I will respect his decision, but I will not stop seeing him just because you ask me to.”

  A soft trembling claims her lips. To my surprise, she stays quiet.

  “I think our time has come to an end, Ms. Hennessy,” I say evenly.

  Glancing at my phone briefly, I scrape the chair back, ready to rise to my feet.

  The color of her eyes morphs from sparkling emerald to dull obsidian.

  “You really are clueless, aren’t you?” she throws at me.

  I slump back into my chair, taken aback by the hatred in her voice.

  “If you refer to my position with this company, I am perfectly aware that my job is on the line. I know it has been compromised. And not because of my performance which has been stellar so far. With this being said, I will not resign just because you disapprove of my relationship with your son.”

  Annoyed, she pulls out of her chair, her perfectly manicured hands firmly clasping her hips as her eyes taser me.

  Her lips tremble with fury.

  “Listen to me, you... little tart. I’m not talking about your fucking job, although truth be told, the only reason you still have it is because of him. Fucking at work has never been tolerated in this company. Just because it was my son who fucked you doesn’t make it acceptable. That strike alone can send you flying out the door. And at one point, it will. Trust me, it’s only a matter of time,” she says, her eyes throwing daggers at me. “I’m talking about him being only twenty-one years old. Are you blind? Stupid? How can you possibly say you are in love with him when you don’t give a damn about him or his life? You must know better than that, Tara Hart. You’re older than him. If nothing else you should have more experience. Do you have any idea how ridiculous it sounds? You, talking about being in love with a man who’s never had a relationship with a woman in his entire life. You can’t be serious. How old are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? Soon, you’ll want a family of your own. Kids. Perhaps, a husband. He can’t give you any of that. His life has just got started. He has the family business to attend to, and there are so many other things requiring his full attention. Getting caught in an affair that sooner or later will unravel, makes no sense to me and it does him a disservice. Or you, for that matter.”

  My heart sinks.

  “You’re not the first woman he’s had in his bed and surely won’t be the last,” she says, and my chest hurts. “He’s had a bigger turnover in his bedroom than a company going out of business. And it got tenfold worse since he moved out and got his own place.”

  My stomach curls up into a ball, bile crawling up my throat.

  “To his own admission, he’s had whores on a retainer. What makes you think that all of that has gone away just because you showed up in his life? You may be innocent, but you don’t strike me as stupid.”

  I swallow hard a couple of times to moisten my throat.

  She keeps spilling more venom.

  “Whatever you two have going on will eventually fizzle out. He’s too young to stick with you, Tara, and you know that. You probably knew it all along, but you went for it anyway. He’ll break your heart eventually, whether he wants to or not. That is the nature of men––the beast in them. You’ll end up crushed and unemployed.”

  Propping her hands on the desk, she leans forward even more.

  “Listen to me, Tara Hart…” she says with a calmer voice. “You may not like me, and you may even despise me, but you know this is the truth. So let me give you a piece of advice. Woman to woman. Forget about him. Concentrate on your work. You’ll keep your job. You have a bright career ahead of you. And don’t worry about him. He’ll forget about you. The sooner you do it the better you’ll be.”

  She smoothly pulls back.

  Without another word, she vanishes out the door while I unravel in my chair.

  2

  SHADE

  “How was Italy?”

  As always, Elia’s voice scrapes my ears, making my blood pressure rise.

  Bringing tiny bits of food to her masterfully painted mouth, she examines me as I stride across the patio and join her at the dinner table.

  Chewing quietly, she looks down at me, taking a swift inventory of my tailored black pants, and slim fit dark shirt.

  Curiosity flashes through her eyes––perhaps a question, but it never makes it to her lips.

  The server sets the appetizer plate in front of me as soon as I take a seat. Turning a vacant stare to the pool, I wait for him to step away.

  Moments later, I shift my eyes back to her.

  “How is your pool boy doing?” I ask, no trace of humor in my voice. “Or is it the yoga instructor? Therapist? Who is it these days?”

  I dig my fork into my salad.

  She glares at me, her eyes turning into pools of tar. Somehow, she stifles her retort.

  Perfect choice. Tonight, of all nights, I’m not in the mood for her shit.

  Gingerly, she runs a napkin over her lips before she speaks again.

  “Why are you home, anyway?” she asks.

  A smirk creases my lips.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  She places the fork on her plate, sets her elbows on the table and locks her fingers beneath her chin.

  Smiling amused, she brings the glass of wine to her lips and takes a small sip.

  She dabs her lips with the napkin again before she sets it to the side.

  “Mmm. I see...” she mutters, flicking her finger up and down, pointing at my attire. “Now I know why you are all dressed up. I was wondering what the occasion was. I guess you’re anxious to meet your blue-eyed pussycat, tonight.”

  Irony threads through her voice, a wicked smile reaching her eyes. Her expression shifts under my gaze, satisfaction beaming on her face.

  I suddenly have a hunch. And it’s the worst kind.

  No.

  She didn’t fucking do it.

  “Are you still keeping track of me?” I ask casually, fishing for more
clues.

  She looks at me, amused, and tension sets in my jaw.

  “There’s no need to keep track of you, darling,” she says, smiling smug. “I can only imagine how hard it must’ve been to stay away from her for an entire week.”

  She slants her sly gaze back to her glass of wine. Wrapping her fingers around the delicate stem she brings it to her lips.

  “You know, being faithful to your lover... That’s a tall order for someone like you.”

  She takes a sip of wine, observing me with frosted eyes from above the rim.

  “So...” she mutters as she places the glass back on the table. “It’s not hard to imagine you couldn’t wait to come back so you can get your hands on her again,” she says and runs the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “Where is she, by the way?”

  There she goes.

  Of course, she did something.

  Now I know why Tara is not answering my calls.

  Slowly, I retrieve a cigarette from the pack tucked in my pocket, and place it between my lips. We clash stares for a moment, and despite my glare, she doesn’t wipe the annoying smirk away from her face.

  “I told you I don’t want you to smoke at the dinner table,” she says emphatically.

  I keep my eyes on the stream of smoke drifting in her direction.

  “And I told you to stay away from her,” I toss back at her, no humor in my voice.

  Her lips part, a chuckle falling out.

  “Shade, darling...” she says with a condescending voice, that makes a muscle tick in my jaw. “How can you be so blind?” She flips her palms up dramatically. “I don’t understand. You really think this woman is the one? If you do, you’re setting yourself for a big disappointment. Sooner or later, you’ll realize that she’s nothing more than a woman who works for us. Our company,” she says, emphasizing the last few words. “I’m sure this little detail has slipped out of your mind, eager as you were to mount her on the Italian Coast. But that’s all she is. You think you can have a relationship with her? You don’t even know what a real life relationship with a woman means. You’ve never had one. You don’t know whether you’ll like it or not. And even if you do, how long do you think it would last? Having the same woman in your bed, day in and day out? Knowing everything about her. No mystery left. No chase. No challenge. Denying yourself any other experience, because you thought it was a good idea to settle with someone like her. And then... You don’t even know who this woman really is. You’ve only known her for a few weeks or so. She would’ve probably opened her legs for any other guy, had he been in your place. Whether young and good looking or not,” she says disdainfully, her fingers playing with the strings of pearls outlining the neckline of her black chiffon Channel dress. “And you shouldn’t feel bad about it,” she says as if she gives a crap about me or the way I feel. “Most women in her place would’ve done the same thing. When so much money is at stake, you should question these women’s ulterior motives. Do you really want to settle? If you do, by all means, do it. Find a woman who already has her own money, so you don’t have to question her affection for you.”