Enraptured

ENRAPTURED

Book 3 of the Fullerton Family Saga

A novel by

Ginger Voight

©2013, Ginger Voight

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties.
Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

FILE SHARING:

Please note this book is protected under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA.) It has been made available for sale to the public for your personal use/enjoyment.
No permission has been granted to upload onto fire sharing websites.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author to produce this content.

A personal note:

I originally wrote the story of the Fullertons in 1995, months following the unexpected death of my newborn son, Brandon. Life was hitting me pretty hard at the time, and I escaped much like I always did: into worlds with chaos I could control.

In doing so, I worked through many themes that recur in this saga. I dealt with loss and disappointment, grief and, ultimately, hope, family and love. Originally written as a standalone, the book ended up being quite ambitious and maybe even a little overwhelming. I shelved it for years, perhaps unintentionally. I didn’t realize until looking back exactly how much of myself I left on the page. In many ways I was Rachel. I had two surviving children who needed me, and it was for them I pulled myself up and kept pressing forward, despite everything life was throwing at me to make me give up.

Many times these jabs were ricocheting back to me from my poor choices, something I ended up including in this rewrite. It was an honest, unflinching look on how we hurt people when we are hurt ourselves, even if it means that we sometimes turn away from our own moral center.

Such is the human condition, I suppose.

When I decided to write Rubeneseque romance, I revisited many earlier works to convert my once “perfect” heroines into women who looked more like me. That was the easy part. Whether they wear a size 2 or size 22, these heroines embody various parts of my character, for better or worse.

Sometimes, though, if I’m lucky… they are everything I want to be.

The simple truth is that Rachel is better than me. She’s stronger, braver and smarter than me. One of the best parts of rewriting this saga, and taking the time to tell it right, was getting to know her in a way that my 25-year-old self simply couldn’t.

That 25-year-old self also didn’t understand the groundwork I laid with the metaphor of two brothers, to symbolize my struggle of loving a man who struggled with bipolar disorder. In my first husband, I found a strong alpha male, a hero, hard and unyielding, strong and commanding. I also found the rogue, the rebel, the one who had been so hurt by his past he didn’t feel he deserved a future. Upon this writing, I realize that Alex and Drew always represented this duality, and in essence were the man I loved and ultimately lost way too soon when he passed in 2003.

And of course there was Jonathan. The reason this book reads more like a love story between a mother and child is because that was the emotion driving me to write. After Brandon died when he was nine days old, I was haunted for months afterward, plagued by ghosts I couldn’t see. So I spent many sleepless nights pouring every hope and dream I had for him into a brand new little boy named Jonathan. His strength, his heart, and his compassion were all the things I found in my angel over nine magical days. That so many readers have fallen in love with him means that my Brandon was not lost to this world, something that seemed a tragic loss at the time.

It was a loss I struggled with every day until I published “Enticed.”

In essence, you all gave my son back to me in a way that he will never be stolen again.

So this is my love letter to all of you. You’ve given me a great gift by giving Brandon new life within this sweet little boy you’ve grown to love and champion.

And one day, his story might bring us all back together again.

Until then, I thank each and every one of you for reading and loving this series. Your letters and messages have touched me more than I can ever say. What started as a rewrite became a repurposing of why I do what I do, and every author should be so blessed to have that moment.

And like every author, I didn’t write this book alone. Not by a long shot.

Special thanks to Georgette Geras-Waters, who became an unintentional expert on many of the events within the book. It still boggles my mind how our stories converged. I’m so glad they brought us together. You understood my journey and held my hand every step of the way.

Thanks to my other beta readers, Laura McCarthy Benson and Jo Ann Wickham, who also gave me excellent feedback and sometimes a little nudge to keep me on track. Thank you so much for enduring my word vomit. That you can make sense of it all makes you even more awesome than you already were.

Thanks to Brandee Engle Veltri, a blogging goddess who has tirelessly organized book tour after book tour. Because of her hard work and dedication, it would take a whole other book to list all the amazing blogs who have opened their hearts to this series.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to all the book bloggers who have turned their passion for reading into the single most important service for independent writers. You introduce us to readers who might not have found our books otherwise.

And finally thanks to my family, who puts up with me while I’m pulling my hair out to write book after book. They’re the ones who pull me out of my safe four walls so I can see the world around me and relate it back to all of you with stories I could never tell properly otherwise.
This includes the expert on the finer things in life, my best friend, Jeff Mayo, who made me sound a lot smarter than I ever was.

And for Brandon and for Dan, these books are for you. Till we meet again. XOXO

GV

My life as Mrs. Andrew J. Fullerton began as one might have expected it might: amidst great opulence reserved for the contemporary royalty of the superrich. We landed at our private island retreat in the Bahamas via sea plane, which really did a number on the nausea I hadn’t been able to shake since I had discovered I was pregnant mere weeks before.

And now I was a bride on her honeymoon, while the man I trul
y loved grieved who only knew where over my many betrayals.

I didn’t feel much like celebrating my “honeymoon” but Drew was undeterred. He insisted that we needed the time to reconnect.  He was attentive and caring, acting every inch a husband from the moment we boarded our private plane in California. His touch was light but sure as
Drew guided me by the elbow, while uniformed staff carried our luggage to the sprawling villa located right on the white sandy beach.

“Sir, madam,” greeted our personal valet, Liam. “Your hosts are already here, waiting for you. Come.”

I glanced up at Drew. “Hosts?” I whispered.

He patted my arm as he led me into the sunken living room of the massive villa. The furniture was white, contrasting the dark wood in the vaulted, beamed ceilings.
The corner room featured one-hundred-eighty degree views of the sparkling Atlantic, courtesy of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Before I could admire the view, I realized that Sloane and Troy
De Havilland had already made themselves at home in the luxurious room. Troy, in fact, stood at the mahogany bar, pouring himself a drink. I was stunned speechless to see them, but Drew had a ready smile for his friends.

“Troy, Sloane,” he nodded as he guided me down the steps. Sloane rose to her feet to greet us, kissing both Drew and me on the cheek.

“What a surprise,” I muttered with as gracious a smile as I could muster.

“We certainly don’t intend to invade your entire honeymoon,” Sloane chuckled.
“But the boys planned our vacations back-to-back, so we figured we’d stay a day or two to get you both properly introduced to the staff. It is the least we could do as your hosts.”

“This is your place?” I asked.

She nodded as she glanced around her impressive digs with pride. “My wedding present, actually. So you could say that you’re part of a proud De Havilland tradition.”

Whoopie
, I thought.  “Thank you for having us,” I offered graciously.

“It’s my pleasure, darling,” she purred as she took me by the arm to show me around her villa. “Troy and I were so pleased to hear that you and Drew patched up your differences. We knew you were the perfect match for him from the moment we met you.” I said nothing as she led me back up the stairs toward the kitchen, where a staff of chefs prepared our afternoon meal. “Powerful men need strong women,” she went on. “And it takes a very strong woman to devote her life to her husband and her family. You have to know who you are and what you offer your man.” She delicately snagged a piece of sashimi from one of the plates. She offered me a bite but my stomach rebelled at the thought of raw fish. Instead, I grabbed a piece of pickled ginger.

“Olivia was all wrong for Drew,” Sloane continued. “She needed the applause and the accolades of Hollywood. It was so tiresome to deal with her, and her awful assistant. She thought she could walk among us simply because she’s been in a few movies,” she added with an eye roll of disdain. “It takes more to be among the privileged than some random lottery ticket.”

I said nothing. All I could wonder is how she talked about me behind my back
to all her high society friends, given I had been granted the most random lottery ticket of all. I didn’t belong in their midst and I knew it.

As if she could read my thoughts, she went right on, praising what she considered my more wifely qualities.
“You, dear,” she said with a friendly pat on my arm, “you understand that a woman’s place is beside her man, not in front of some camera. We can attribute that to your more conservative upbringing in Texas.”

“Straight off the farm,” I added, tongue-in-cheek.

She merely chuckled and patted my arm again. “Such a sense of humor,” she dismissed. She guided me from room to room, each larger and more luxurious than the last. There was a library stocked from floor to ceiling with books, and a window seat that looked out over the gardens where tall palms and colorful, tropical flowers grew. There was a richly paneled office, where the good senator undoubtedly worked even during vacation. The other ten thousand square feet housed seven guest rooms, all of which filled with fresh flowers and fruit, giving us the pick of where we might like to sleep during our extended stay.

The “honeymoon” suite, however,
was right on the beach. The round bed was netted in between fat, wooden pillars, and its platform sat right on the sand. Velvet pillows in royal blue sat atop satiny smooth royal blue sheets, with vibrant red rose petals scattered across the bed. Champagne cooled in a silver ice bucket on the table, along with dozens of candles that flickered in the breeze.

“This is beautiful,” I offered dutifully, though “beautiful” was much too small a word for my surroundings. The turquoise
sea stretched out as far as the eye could see, and fine white sand sparkled like crushed diamonds under the afternoon sun. Stately palms surrounded the shallow water that curved around our private cove. Never had I dreamed of standing in such a place.

“This part of the beach is completely secluded, so you don’t have to worry about any modesty. Feel free to enjoy it as it is meant to be enjoyed,” she winked. “Would you like some champagne? I can call Liam.”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. Maybe some ginger ale?”

She nodded, as if I were a sweet child to be indulged. “
Of course,” she said as she led me back to the kitchen. Astryd, the lead cook on staff, a pleasantly rotund woman with skin the color of rich chocolate, fetched a glass of ginger ale for me while Sloane and I stepped out onto the terrace. The Balinese inspired grotto was crafted in stone, with rugged rock fountains and tall stone structures. It led to a private patio near the infinity pool that dropped off just at the edge of the ocean. Another staffer brought Sloane a floppy white hat and her sunglasses, along with a dirty martini, before handing me a flute filled with bubbly ginger ale.

“You look a little pale, darling. Are you all right?”

I waved away her concern. “Probably motion sickness,” I dismissed easily. Drew and I had already planned to officially announce the pregnancy in February, so at the moment the only people that knew about it were Drew and myself, along with Jonathan and of course, Alex.

I felt a tug at my gut as I stared at the ocean. I could see the dark color of his blue eyes when I told him the news. How hurt he had been, but he hid it as well as all the other pain he had endured in his relatively young life.

How I hated to add one more disappointment to the list. I sighed as I took a sip of my drink while Sloane prattled on about things in which I couldn’t muster one iota of interest. When Drew and Troy joined us, I was thankful for the distraction.

Troy bent to deliver a lingering friendly kiss on my lips, but I averted my face at last minute so that it landed on my cheek instead. I still didn’t feel entirely comfortable in his presence. I knew what both Alex and Jonathan thought of him, and the look in his eyes didn’t do much to comfort me.
It was as though I was community property, part of some club now, a club I wasn’t entirely sure I ever wanted to join.

A lovely young staffer named
Chantale brought us our lunch. While everyone else put away the fresh sushi and sashimi, I concentrated on the fruit and vegetable plate, staying mostly quiet as they all talked shop around me. Matters of high finance had never interested me enough to learn terminology and strategy, so the conversation between Troy and Drew went largely in one ear and out the other, until they mentioned Alex’s name.

“Please tell me that stubborn brother of yours has finally agreed to
set up De Villa Rojas.”

I glanced at Drew, who shook his head. “You know Alex,” he shrugged. “He decided to return to England.”

“I don’t know how long I can excuse his behavior, Drew. We owe Pablo Rojas some professional courtesy since he bravely took over Teton Tech.”

My eyes returned to Drew as I tried to piece together why Alex had anything to do with the
troubled company in Mexico that Drew had acquired two years before.

Since then it had been embroiled right in the middle of the drug war that raged around it
, creating much more grief than it could possibly be worth.

“I personally think you should dump it and take the loss,” I said as I set my empty glass upon the table. A full one took its place as
Chantale, the young teenager with the long braids with colorful beads, met my need immediately. I gave her a grateful smile, which she shyly returned.

Both Drew and Troy glanced at me, their eyes cold and unreadable. Drew, who had to know that my unpopular opinion had been influenced by his brother, was quick to put me in my place. “And that is why you teach
secondary school and I manage international business, darling,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What’s happening at Teton Tech is more than what you can read on paper.”

My eyes slid over to Troy, who masked a knowing grin. If Alex were there, he would have pounced on him immediately, charging that his money was
somehow tied up in Teton Tech. He would have benefited from the way they had always done business, especially when it skirted the law. I felt the words bubble up in my throat, but the look on Drew’s face stopped me short. “If you say so,” I acquiesced, before adding, “
Darling
,” with a slight edge.

“This is no time to discuss business,” Sloane dismissed with a regal wave of her hand. “This is a romantic occasion.” She lifted up her glass.
“A toast, to the lovely couple. The best is yet to come.”

Our glasses clinked together, and the men dropped their shop talk.
Still, the monotony of their small talk was excruciating, so I disengaged myself as politely as possible. Drew followed suit, leading me once again around the pool and toward the house.

“That was attractive,” he muttered as we got out of earshot of our hosts. “Learned that from Alex, did you?”

I yanked my arm from his grasp. “If I had, I would have pounced all over your good buddy back there, and the profits he makes while raping lesser developed countries to pad his bottom line.”

Drew’s mouth thinned out in a hard line as he pulled me toward our private suite. “This is their home and they are your hosts. You’ll do well to remember that.”

“They are your friends, Drew. Not mine. You’ll do well to remember
that
,” I snapped. “Besides, I’m allowed to have an opinion of my own, especially when it impacts my family.” Whether he liked it or not, my marrying him had made Alex exactly that.

Drew chuckled as he made his way to the fully stocked bar in the corner of the sitting room. “To have an opinion, one should be fully educated on the matter.”

“What do you think I did day in and day out at FEI?” I snapped back, using his preferred acronym for the family company. “I learned about your business so that I could test your son. And I’m telling you that Teton Tech is bad news. It’s a dangerous, scandalous situation that has done nothing more than bleed money since you took it over. You need to get away from it.”

He drained his glass of whiskey before he walked around the bar and walked over to where I stood.
He studied my face with a shrewd narrowing of his eyes. “You are right. I brought you into my company to teach my son certain aspects of my business. But that doesn’t qualify you to make any decisions. You know very little about how my world runs, Rachel. Much like Alex before you, I might add. I’m the one who groomed FEI into the success that it is, while he remained sanctimonious and pious from a safe distance. As usual.”

I turned away at the mention of Alex’s name. Drew was quick to pull me back. “
But this is hardly any kind of discussion for our honeymoon,” he said softly as he brushed my hair from my face. He bent for a kiss but I was unresponsive. His eyes were hard as he lifted away. “You look tired,” he murmured. “I’ll leave you to rest.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the enormous ring that now rested there, reminding me ever so subtly that I belonged to him now. I knew that was where my loyalty was supposed to lie.

I watched him depart, before turning toward the beautiful
view with a sigh.