Author: N. E. Henderson
Release Date: December 3, 2013
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Silent series
Hosted by: Love Between the Sheets Promotions
Buy the Book: Amazon Worldwide | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes
Engaged to marry her college boyfriend and a best friend who’s more like a sister, life is almost perfect. That is until her world is tilted by two of the most important people in her life.
A chance encounter leads Shannon down a path that will force her to confront a past she has meticulously ignored for ten years.
Nicholas Lockhart, renowned bachelor, has a reputation for his cold eyes and icy heart. Meeting a woman who can turn his world upside down is not in the cards; that is until Shannon.
When Shannon's world crashes, she wonders if it's possible to crack Nick's icy heart. A web of lies and twisted truths soon leaves both bare and vulnerable.
Silence no longer offers her protection or safety.
Will remaining silent cost Shannon the real love she's finally found? Or will she stay silent no more?
The person I hate most in the world. If God existed, the motherfucker’s life would have ended by now. But that hasn’t happened, and I don’t see it happening any time soon. I’m the type of guy that prays for his dad to get a brain-fucking hemorrhage that will take him straight to Hell, where he belongs.
“Yeah?” I greet the fuck as I turn into the underground parking garage at Lockhart Publishing in my silver Audi R8.
Way to ruin my day, Dad!
“Nicholas, is that any way to answer your phone? You’re the CEO of a company for Christ’s sake. The least you could do is act like a professional.” Two companies to be exact, but what the Hell does being a CEO have to do with professionalism when the person on the other end of the line is the sorry excuse I get to call father? The man should know by now, I’m going to do and act any damn way I want. I’ve never been the “do as you’re told” type, so why start now?
“I wasn’t aware this was a professional call.” My tone is sarcastic, but I don’t give a shit. The dick-fuck knows I hate him. Nothing is ever going to change that. We will never drink a beer together. We will never have a strong father/son bond. Hell, the only bond we do have is blood. The simple fact that his blood runs through my veins and that it will forever link us disturbs me.
“Son, let’s not argue today. I called for a specific reason, so I won’t keep you any longer than necessary.” I can tell by his clipped tone he doesn’t want to be on the phone with me any more than I do with him.
“Fine, then please tell me what you want so I can get back to work.” I breathe out in annoyance.
My father was a well-known Defense Attorney in LA when I was growing up. He made a living getting criminals out of jail for many years and now he’s a prominent judge. There is some real fucked-up irony in that. The man should be locked up for the shit he has done to my mother over the years. Why the woman stays married to him is beyond me. It’s not like she needs his money. In fact, my father has benefited from her inheritance more than she has.
“As you know, Thursday is Thanksgiving, and your mother would like you and your sister present for lunch.” He knows I’ll do anything for my mom. I think I proved that to him a long time ago. “Do you think you can do this for her?” he adds. He knows I’m going to say yes.
“What time?” I ask on a sigh as I open my car door, stepping out into the dark, musky air under my building. To my annoyance, I slam the door harder than I intend. Fuck! Why do I let this man get under my skin so easily? Just the sound of his voice tends to set me off.
“Noon,” he responds. A few hours in the company of my father is sure to piss me right the fuck off along with adding additional renovations to my house for my handyman to fix. Not that I can’t fix the damage I create myself, but why go through all that trouble when I can hire someone to do it for me? I’m sure the guy already thinks I’m a raging alcoholic who comes home and punches holes in walls for fun. I’m not, of course, or at least I’m not yet. If he knew all the damage was the result of my frustration with my father, he would understand.
Yeah, so I have anger issues.
“Okay, but if you want Nikki there, then perhaps you should call your daughter yourself.” I make my way to the elevator pressing the “up” button. As I wait, I check the time on my Rolex. It’s 1:14pm. I have plenty of time before my meeting with Teresa. Why I ever made that woman Vice President of my company, I’m still not sure. She’s great at business and a brilliant editor, but damn, I wish she would stop trying to get into my pants every time we are alone. Now that she’s my VP, I see her more often than I like. It’s not like she isn’t attractive, because she is, with blonde hair, big tits, and a tiny waist, but I don’t sleep with people who work for me. And well…she annoys the fuck out of me, plus she is too bitchy. It’s a big fucking turn off!
The sound of my father’s voice brings me back to our conversation. I really need to wrap this up. The longer I speak to him, the longer I’ll be at Knocked Out tonight, kicking the shit out of my best friend’s ass.
Jase is one of the few people who knows about my relationship with my father and why I hate the man. He and I share a common hatred for our fathers. Everyone that works for my father thinks he’s an outstanding judge and wonderful family man.
What a crock of shit!
“Nicolette is being her usual immature and childish self. It would be easier for all of us if you ask her to come. She listens to you, Nicholas.” He sounds annoyed with his last statement and I silently laugh. My sister isn’t immature or childish. She would just rather ignore his calls than deal with the man. She hates the heartless bastard as much as I do.
Any man, who lays a hand on a woman with the sole intension of hurting her isn’t much of a man at all in my book. That’s the kind of fucked-up shit my father loves to do to women. We watched him physically and mentally abuse our mother for years. The day I turned twenty-one, I made sure my father never laid a hand on my mother again. That’s not to say he’s stopped hurting women because he hasn’t. Now, he has a mistress to abuse. He doesn’t know I know about her, but I do. Surely my mother has to know too.
As the elevator door opens, Matt, my senior editor and good friend, is exiting. I pin him with my signature icy stare. I can tell by the look that crosses his face he knows I’m in one of my moods, so he wisely says nothing and passes me quickly. These moods only happen when I have to communicate with the man on the other end of my phone.
“Nicholas,” he stresses, "just call your sister for me. I don’t have time for Nicolette right now. I’m walking into court as we speak.” He has never had time for Nikki or me for that matter. Not that I care. I stopped caring about my father before I learned to write my own God damn name.
“Sure, Dad!” I force out through clenched teeth. “I’ll handle it. We’ll be there on Thursday at noon. Is there anything else? I have a meeting to get to.” I’m not totally lying. I do have a meeting to attend, but it’s not for another hour.
“No, there isn’t. I’ll see you then.” He ends the call, not bothering to say goodbye. This is nothing unusual. He thinks everyone around him is there is serve him.
I enter the elevator and I press number eleven. As I ride up, I send Nikki a quick text letting her know the plans for Thanksgiving. This is sure to brighten her day as much as it has mine. My sister is the female version of myself. But perhaps Nikki controls her anger a little more than I do.
As I move my hand to store my phone in the breast pocket of my jacket, I hear the alert telling me I have a text message. I look down; it’s my sister’s reply.
The corners of my mouth turn up as I shove the phone back inside my jacket just as the elevator reaches my destination. My smile fades; I’m not looking forward to the rest of my day. Dealing with Teresa is one thing, but after dealing with Judge James ‘Asshole’ Lewis, I’m sure I’ll take out my anger on her at some point today.
As I exit the elevator, something, or rather someone, catches my eye. She is standing at my receptionist, Rachel’s desk, with her back facing me. The legs catch my attention first. They are toned and her skin is fair. Her body turns a fraction as my eyes travel up, seeing a side profile. She is slender, but not at all skinny. My eyes continue its path up her body.
Fuck me, Sunday!
My eyes land on her hair. It’s a stunning shade of red. Darker than strawberry-blonde, but lighter than auburn. It’s shiny and bright; unique and exotic like a rare pet. Damn, did I just compare a woman to a pet? That’s a new one even for you, Lockhart.
I can’t see the color of her eyes from where I’m standing, but that mouth…those pink fucking lips are made for sucking cock. I allow my eyes to drop. She’s wearing a navy dress and it’s a little on the short side to be considered business attire, but it looks good on her body.
Get a hold of yourself, Lockhart. You’re at work, man.
My eyes glide back up her body, back up to those fucking beautiful drapes that fall down her back. She looks like an angel…an angel I’d like to tie down and fuck.
But God damn, that hair is making my dick hard!
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