Badass (12 page)

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He wants her and will stop at nothing to claim her...

Alisha Clark comes from a small town in Kansas.  She ran away to the Big Apple, a place where no one will judge your past or even care about it.  She wanted to get away from locals knowing your business and then turning against you due to your past.  She is nervous about her decision to leave Kansas, but within days of arriving she secures a job and a place to live.  Everything falls into place for Alisha until she meets her boss.  Carl Reid immediately becomes obsessed with her curves and starts toying with her mind.  His obsession starts turns to possession as he leads her into a world of wealth and power.

A world that a girl from a small town in Kansas never knew existed, until now.

***This book was previously called The Billionaire's Toy by T. B. Weakes & Secretary by Foxy Tale ***

Chapter 1: Kansas

“Don’t go,” mamma cried as I reached for my bags, trying to drag them into the truck.

“I need to,” I wept as Tyler, my brother, held the truck door open, ready for me to jump in.

“The Big Apple will eat you alive.”

“I can’t stay,” were the last words I said to her as I closed my eyes, jumped into the truck, and drove to the airport.

I’d lived in the small town of Montezuma for all of my life.  I got fed up of not seeing the outside world and only seeing the same people at church, at the grocery store, and at work. We lived in a bubble, but I knew there was more to life than I’d seen.  Mama begged me to go to New York on holiday and not to make it my home, but with the events in town it was too late for that. I had to leave.

I wanted to go somewhere where no one cared about me, where no one wanted to know what I was doing or wearing. I wanted to be ignored. Living in Montezuma was unbearable.

I left high school and started to work as a secretary for the local realtor—the only realtor in town.  I enjoyed it a lot. John, my boyfriend at the time, hated it. He said he didn’t see the point of me working, but he would entertain the idea until we had kids and settled down.  The bonus was when I was working I never had to be home for him to visit.  I had that excuse to avoid the talks about when we were getting married, or even worse, about when we were starting a family.

John was my childhood sweetheart and the nicest guy in the world.  That was his problem: he was too nice.  You could never argue with him, if you did you would just feel guilty afterwards. He was a nice guy.  Everything about him was nice. He was slender from working on the farm.  Brown hair, nice eyes.  Nothing striking about him and nothing out of the ordinary. He was the same John from when we were little to when we finished high school.

We finished high school, and soon after he started work and we started saving up to get our own place.  “Why wait?” he would say, echoing the sentiments of both of our parents. It felt like the whole town was saying the same thing.

That was when the pressure started. I had to leave. If I didn’t I would be hated by everyone.  My fears were soon confirmed when I decided to go ahead with it.

“When you two gettin’ married?” was the question I heard all day long, every single day.

His mama wanted us to live with her, and my mama wanted us to live with her.  I couldn’t bear the idea of being in a bedroom which I had been in since I was a child, with my old Backstreet Boys posters on the wall and with John fighting for space with my Barbie dolls.  It was an excuse, the realization of which hit me when we moved into our own place. 

I also needed us to get a place so that if it didn’t work out, I had somewhere to go—back home to my parents.  Besides, it just didn’t feel right. You grow up and you move out. You don’t grow up and then have your boyfriend move into your parents’ house with you.

His bedroom antics consisted of asking the same question every time, “You wanna do it?” My answer would always be the same, “Sure.” What else could it be? If I refused him, he would tell me it didn’t matter and then spend all night asking why I wasn’t happy. It was easier to agree.

I would lie in bed thinking about David Beckham or Justin Timberlake.  Once, I made the mistake of calling David’s name while John was on top of me. It was actually an improvement on the previous time when I had been counting sheep. It was always the same position with him, the same question, the same everything.  I got bored of sleeping with him, of being with him in general, and of living in that town. 

I was meant to be in the big city. Maybe even with a bad boy who treated me like dirt, who knows? I lived with creature comforts, with everything any girl could want, and I didn’t appreciate it. I didn’t want it.  I wanted more.  Mama said it was because Pops used to give me anything I wanted.  Pops used to spoil me rotten; he never could resist my big blue eyes and curly blond hair. 

As I got older, men started to notice me. Not only did I have big blue eyes, I also had G-sized boobs to. I’m gifted in that department, and I like to make it known that they’re natural and all mine.

I wasn’t happy. I was bored with our friends, our lifestyle, and my job. I needed to leave. I loathed being with John, and sometimes I would dread the time he came home. Sometimes I would make myself physically sick just so I didn’t have to talk to him.  I realized it was time to move on. I needed to set him free so that he could find true love with someone who would appreciate him for the great guy he was, something I would never do.

Maybe they were right, I´m selfish and only think of myself.  His mama called me a whore. She said all blonds were whores.  Not sure where she got her philosophy from, considering most people in town were brunettes, and the ones who weren’t had blond highlights in their hair.

Mama said I take after my great grandmother, who had the longest blond hair in town.  Everyone was jealous of her hair and all the men chased after her.  Like a great woman once said, and as Mama always repeated, “Blonds have more fun!”

In a small town, everybody knows everybody else’s business. So they all knew when I broke up with John.  In a small town these acts are not forgivable, so it wasn’t just John's heart I broke, everybody seemed to suffer.

Everyone refused to let it lie. Even nearly a year later, they were still talking about it.  Carol Winters, the reverend’s wife, gossiped about it every Sunday at church. “I had your dress all sketched out. Ali, why’d you do that to little John? All he ever did was make you happy.”

My response would always be the same, “I know. I don´t deserve him, so I let him go.”

“Did it take you 15 years to realize that? You could have set him free a long time ago.”

Really, I was supposed to realize that when I was only 5 years old? Please!

They began to call me names at the realtor where I worked. They castigated me for breaking poor Little Johnny’s heart.  Mama and Pops stopped being invited to the local fairs and other events, and Pops, who loved a good game of cards, was excluded from the local bridge game. I felt that the only reason for this pain was because I wanted to follow my heart, and that didn’t lead me to John.

After moving back in with my folks, I thought the best thing was to follow my heart and move to New York.  I had no money, no job, and nowhere to live.  It felt crazy at the time, but it felt even crazier to stay.  The townspeople had conspired against me and I had very little chance of ever finding work again, not that I needed to work–I just loved having my own money and independence.  My family was not welcome anywhere.  I did it for them as much as for me. As soon as I left, the family resumed their previous schedule.  The invites returned as soon as the whore left town. 

The town’s deputy used that word to describe me when playing a card game with Pops. He received a jab in the face.  My departure for the big city hurt pops a lot.

It was clear that I had to leave work.  There were hardly any clients as it was, and with the news of my breakup things went to an all-time low. One day I overheard one of the townsfolk say, “If you didn’t have a slut working for you, then maybe you would have clients.”  My boss kept me on because he didn’t like to be intimidated, but it’s hard not to be in such a small town.

John ended up with Kelly, my best friend growing up. “You never wanted him, so what’s the big deal?” Mama asked me, and she was right, but it still felt weird. I was happy for him, but it seemed a little too close for comfort.  I didn’t mind that they were together. It just got me thinking. I couldn’t understand why he chose her. Although there weren’t many people to choose from, with only around three hundred people in town.

I saved a little money, and with the help of my brother and sister I moved to New York, hoping to get a job within a week.  We didn’t have much, but we didn’t need much to live in our old town.  Everything was taken care of. We owned the farm—passed on by my great, great, great granddaddy—and we all worked the land. I stopped when I graduated and I wanted to work at the realtor’s.  Mama said that watching all those house programs when I was little put ideas in my head.  The good folks of Montezuma do the work their families did; they don´t have any fancy ideas.  “Next thing she’s going to be on Baywatch, running down the beach with bouncing breasts,” she added.

I told her I was going to New York, not Hollywood.  She didn’t want to let me go, but I had to. It was time to move on.

Luckily, I got the job working for Carson within two days of moving.  The day I arrived I joined an agency and they told me that I was just what CR Enterprises was looking for.  I fit the profile, which I found a little weird, but when Jackson interviewed me it all felt a bit too good to be true.  I had only worked at the realtor’s since high school, almost two years ago.  Also, I’d spent my entire life in a small town and had never even been to such a big city until then. It was the first time I had travelled more than ten miles from home, so the idea of being a perfect fit was surreal. 

The agent said they were looking for someone with fresh ideas and who was new to the town, not someone who would take a job and then leave a few weeks later like most New Yorkers. They wanted someone who would settle down, find their feet, and stay.

I was not quite sure what that meant, but I was up for the challenge.  I had little money in my purse and the high rents I had seen in the press when I arrived meant that I needed a job soon, I never expected it to be so soon.  But, I was grateful. 

I started work and was introduced to him—the man who answered all my prayers—on the third day of work.  I had one word of warning from the other staff—be prepared to come alive when he walks into the room.  That day he walked into the office at 8.29 a.m. and every part of me came alive. He caught my breath and he is still catching it now...free in A
mazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.  Click for your free copy now.

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Married life is not turning out the way I planned, I thought being with the man that rocked my world was all I needed in life.

It is a pity that he doesn't feel that way about me.

He disregards me.

I'm fed up of it.

He pretends I don't exist.

I'm tired of it.

My best friend said she was hitting the town.  I never knew her brother was coming along.  As the night came to an end, I started to worry about the consequences back home for my night on the town.

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“J
ake, I’m tired of the same old routine.  When was the last time we went out?” I purred at Jake, hoping for once my husband would take me out and show me a good time. 

He kissed me on the forehead and said, “Ask Rachel what she’s doing tonight. I need to be out early—I have to go and visit the client in Houston.”

I knew he was going in the morning.  I questioned him when he said he had a business trip on a Saturday.  He explained, but I don’t think he understood the point I was making.  Weekends were for couples or single people to hang out, not for business trips surely.  Could he not dedicate one night for us to spend together?  Just for once!

I was sure Rachel would be out with her beau, Dwayne.  Besides, I hadn’t seen her in the last few weeks, as I´d been busy trying to get my husband to notice me.  I thought that would be hard work after ten years of marriage. Not in our third year.  It never used to be like this.  For crying out loud, I was only twenty-five, but right now with Jake, I felt around fifty, being a dutiful housewife with no kids and working full-time.

“Charlotte, babes.” He paused as he stood by our bedroom door.  He avoided me like the plague as I made my way towards him in our room.  That was his usual sign that I was disturbing him and that he was going to dismiss me like a piece of fluff on his shirt.  “I’m doing this for us.”

How many times had I heard that line?  Too many times, I thought as he walked out the door, into the study to have some peace and quiet.  I’d taken the day off so that we could have a romantic night.  He left me like a jilted bride in our bedroom.  He went away from me.  Away from my new hairdo that he hadn´t even noticed.  Away from the dress I spent half the day trying to decide if he would like.  Away from me spending the rest of the day in the beauty salon getting my nails done, a bikini wax, and a pedicure.  He never even noticed. I didn’t think he even cared.