“Right. Well, he happens to be on the way to Pinegrove and will be here tomorrow. He’s agreed to meet with us about the building.”

  He looked at her puzzled.

  She rolled her eyes and stood, the flap of sandal against the sole of her foot marked her steps on the sandy shore as she paced.

  “Lemme back up there a minute. I guess I jumped the gun there out of excitement. Cooper is a renowned architect that recently worked on restoring parts of a deteriorating castle in Ireland. He’s racked up lots of experience on how to work with an old building like ours. He’s agreed to take a look and talk over ideas with you and the board if you agree. Throw some numbers and give you a rough estimate.”

  Wow. She worked faster than a group of men that did nothing else but work all day. What took them four months to plan out came together for her in less than a day. Maybe he needed a new partner.

  “In all honesty, we never considered saving the building. Your idea seems better and worth the effort to explore.”

  He stood and took her in his arms. “I guess tomorrow we see how we are going to save our building.”

  “What about the board members? What if they don’t agree?” She bit at her lip

  The worry he saw in her eyes pulled at him in a way he never expected. “Don’t worry about them, baby—let them be my problem. Then again,” he shrugged, “you can go all Genevieve Summers on them again if they don’t fall into line. I think they almost liked how you gave them a smackdown yesterday.”

  A burst of laughter tore from her. “Oh damn. I can’t believe I did that. I don’t think I could face them again without turning beet red.”

  “What I can’t believe is that you broke into Town Hall and stole my blueprints and my cum.” He pegged her with a heated smirk and a raised brow.

  “Yeah sorry about using them for window decorations.”

  A slow smile spread across Genevieve’s lips. She buried her hands in his hair and pulled him in closer. “I’d do it again if it meant getting your attention the way I did.”

  “Sweetheart, you’ve got it now and forever.”

  A gentle breeze swept off the water and played with the loose strand of her hair. He twirled a lock around his finger before moving his hand to cup the back of her head. “I think you’re a genius, Genevieve Summers. Pure genius and the love that pours out of you for the people and places you care about makes me feel lucky to be by your side. I know you don’t want promises, but I’m going to anyway. I promise to see this through. To prove that I love you and always have. I hope you’ll let me.” He checked his watch and grinned as an idea formed.

  “Mrs. Havershaw said seven ‘o’clock for the blooming of the Titan Alum?”

  Genevieve shook her head. “We have fifteen minutes, give or take.”

  He grabbed her hand, pulled her into him as they double paced it to the flower festival. He had that stinky flower all wrong from the beginning. Growing up, he’d seen his mother tend to her exotic flowers and enjoy a few moments alone with his dad admiring nothing but a bulb.

  He wanted to roll his eyes at himself. Everything became so apparent now. What his younger self had witnessed when that humongous flower bloomed shortly after his fifteenth birthday had been a special event. He’d been wrapped up in some game or another, while his parents couldn’t pull from each other’s arms.

  “I thought you didn’t care for flowers, especially this one?”

  Back on Main Street, Whiskey followed the line of people to the greenhouse then took a sudden detour around the side of the building.

  “Where are we going?”

  Whiskey slowed by the back exit to Havershaw’s greenhouse. Inside every pole, table and beam in the place had little white lights hanging or wrapped around it.

  Perfect.

  Soft lighting lit the interior to make it look like a something out of a fairytale book his sister went on and on about as kids.

  “Wait here?”

  Genevieve nodded and opened her mouth to say something, but he was already in the next room.

  Two minutes and a couple of promises later he kissed Mrs. Havershaw on the cheek and rejoined Genevieve.

  Behind Genevieve green vines hung from eves like a curtain shutting them off from the rest of the world. He had such singular focus he missed them on the way in. As he stepped back into the room, his vision of beauty had her back to him whispering to some beautiful yellow and pink flower he didn’t recognize. He’d remedy that, learn every flower under the fucking sun so he could enjoy moments like these with her.

  She turned, eyes wide, and a slow smile glided across her lip. Lips he wanted to kiss again like he wanted to breathe.

  “What do you have there?” She leaned to the side to peer around his back.

  He had to be grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. He pulled his hand out from behind his back.

  Her eyes lit like a fire that could warm the world three times over.

  “Is this what I think it is?”

  He presented a freshly potted Titan Alum bulb to her, wrapping her hands around the tiny pot.

  “Genevieve Summers, a decade isn’t enough time with you, but it’s a start, a promise that we’ll watch this bloom like our lives together. I know it’s not a ring, yet⁠—”

  “Are you kidding? This is so much better. Not that I don’t want what that ring represents, but this takes dedication and love.” Tears teased the rims of her eyes as she held his gaze.

  “Like us.”

  She nodded. “I can’t believe it took us this long to come back together. I guess that is why fate had to step in.”

  “Fate sure has a twisted sense of humor to make us wait so long to find our happiness.”

  “Happiness. I never knew I needed it so much as I do right now. All the deadlines and stress seem so petty now.” She paused for a brief moment. “I accept your promise, Whiskey. I never thought love would walk through my door on the back of a little blackmail, yet here we are.”

  “Good, because I mean every single word.” He brought his lips down on hers for a slow, languid kiss. “Especially the I love you part.” Damn, this woman made him so happy. “You’re mine, sweetheart, and there’s not a thing in this world that I wouldn’t do to prove it.”

  She leaned back and he wrapped his arms around her for support. A deep sigh slipped from her lips and hung in the air. “I’m right where I want to be. I love you too, Whiskey. Nothing will tear us apart.”

  His breath caught as her slender fingers wrapped around his hardening shaft.

  He growled, “I plan on hearing those words again when we get home. You better be ready for me. I’m going to want to make up for lost time, baby.”

  He fisted his hand in her hair and turned her lips up to him. “You’re my forever. You’ve had my heart all this time and I never want it back, my dirty little blackmailer.”

  “I’ll protect it as you protect mine.”

  He pressed his lips against hers. “Deal.”

  Thank you for reading Genevieve and Whiskey’s story! Want more High Heat Heroes? I have another series of sizzling romances set at Christmas time. Read the first chapter of High Heat Mafia Christmas, a steamy mafia, age gap romance with lots of sizzle below!

  Read in ebook and print by tapping here or read on for the first chapter.

  Chapter One

  Allison

  “You know what you have to do. Here’s the invitation. I’ll be back in two hours.”

  My uncle shoves a white envelope into my hand. I clench my fingers around the smooth, folded paper and stiffen as his hot breath brushes against my cheek as he leans closer.

  “You better have what I need by that time.”

  Lumps of air stick in my throat as I swallow and the tight remnants of pain from my uncle’s grip around my tender throat when I dared refuse this task a mere hours before serve as a good reminder of the debt I owe him.

  I tried to refuse being involved in this little scheme of his, tried to walk away, but the massive, well-built man kept in good shape and has a good two-hundred pounds on me.

  I raise a hand to my throat. I paid for my disobedience and have the bruises to prove it.

  Slowly he reaches across the small space between us and rests a hand on my thigh and I gulp in air as his grip tightens, making my skin crawl. It takes effort to keep the fear from my eyes and voice as I push out an answer. “Yes, sir.”

  I know what he wants to hear and if the past six years has taught me anything it’s to keep a barrier between my thoughts and the words I actually speak in front of him.

  I fold my hands in my lap and keep my head down. Another gesture I know he expects from me. I’ve learned the hard way tonight fighting back will only earn me his disdain and a swift backhand, or worse.

  When I was younger, he could be nice but as I grew and matured so did his temper. Or I wizened up and realized the ugly truth.

  Either way, I don’t know how someone so handsome and distinguished on the outside can be so ugly and bitter on the inside. Most days I planned my day around avoiding any contact with my mother’s older, corrupt, sleazy brother. Which is easy when you live in a fifteen-bedroom mansion with countless nooks and rooms to get lost in.

  William reclines in the plush leather of his beloved Cadillac which he cherishes more than his fourth wife and gives a deep grunt of approval when I don’t make a sound to challenge him.

  “Good girl,” he responds, giving my bare thigh a squeeze and a pat. “You learn quickly, like your mother. You have one shot, little girl. Don’t let me down.” His hand travels up my bare arm to my neck where he pushes aside my hair. “You understand the consequences. Do things right and after tonight things will change for you. You’ll be of age and I’ll make sure there will be a place for you with me when I’m the new CEO of Savage Ink.”

  The gleam in his eye and the way he drew out his last thought while patting my thigh again made my stomach quiver in disgust.

  God help me.

  I wanted no part of any of his schemes and as far away as possible from this man. I force myself not to shiver from the inappropriate tone and insinuations I’d have to be an idiot not to understand.

  “Yes, sir,” I force myself to say and hope it’s the only answer he’s looking for because it’s all I have to give. It takes steel nerves not to smack his hand away and jerk out of his reach. At the risk of earning a bloody lip or worse, I remain still despite the chills running through my body.

  The car cruises to a slow stop and I pop the door open before the parking attendant has a chance to make it to my door. “I know what I need to do, Uncle. I’ll do what has to be done,” I say before shutting the door to whatever he was about to say. I turn as his car pulls away and climb the expansive white staircase that leads to a castle straight out of some fanciful fairytale.

  White lights are woven into a magical net of twinkling stars cast across the covered entrance as my heels sink into a lush black carpet beneath my feet.

  The contrast between light and dark leave me in awe as I make my way up the stairs.

  At the door I hand over the invitation with a smile for the man who welcomes me to Savage Ink’s Annual Christmas Gala and walk through an elegant arched entry trimmed with fresh garland and more tiny white lights.

  Magical comes to mind and I can’t help but feel nostalgic for the warmth of unmade memories I wish my childhood provided.

  My body stiffens for a moment. Old memories surface and beat back the child-like fantasies I cooked up in my head to mentally escape the crowded shelters and dingy apartments my mom scored for us on cold winter nights after a little time in the back room with one man or another.

  I shake off the stench of the past and let the warmth of the foyer envelop me and remember why I’m here in the first place. I follow the few guests who arrived with me through an ample hall truly decked out for the Christmas festivities, and I can’t help but smile just a little. Someone loves this time of year and it shows in every candle, gleaming chandelier, and dozens of glittering trees.

  As I mingle with the guests and follow the gathering crowd toward the ballroom the frilly ruffles outlining my neckline tickle the sensitive skin of my neck, and I tug at the annoying fringe, ready to rip the damn thing off.

  My hand stops mid-tug as I take in the other guests.

  Okay. This wasn’t like any party I’d ever been to. The invitation said a costume party and my weasel of an uncle made sure to pick the sluttiest one available.

  At least I fit in.

  Chiseled muscle, bronzed skin, and supple legs are all on display from the various festive costumes. There are more sexy Santas and dolled-up busty elves than I’ve ever seen in one place. My eyes skim through the half-naked crowd, taking it all in.

  It’s a wonder they didn’t card me at the door with the going-ons I witness.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  A lithe blonde walks by on stilettoes that make her legs look like they never end. My gaze travels up the length of her body and lands on a set of green eyes a similar shade to mine.

  I give a little wave. “Hey to you too.”

  “Here, you look like you could use this more than me.”

  The blonde winks at me and passes me a glass of champagne before walking off.

  “Thank you,” I whisper as her male companion takes his eyes off my breasts long enough to give me a smile.

  She was right.

  I sip at the bubbly liquid and sigh inwardly as the light alcohol soothes my frazzled nerves.

  Among the party-goers are men three times my age who don’t hide the fact that they are caressing my ample curves over their wives’ heads, clearly fucking me with their eyes.

  I scrunch my nose and scowl when I recognize a few from business functions my uncle hosted at his home, others are new-to-me faces.

  I tug at the hem of my skirt, but not too hard or my breasts will slip from their silky confinement. It was a constant battle of lesser of two evils.

  How the hell did I get myself into this mess? Oh right, by being the good girl. I followed the rules and here I am. A pawn in someone else’s game.

  After my mother died and I landed with my only living relative, I worked my ass off to earn a scholarship to Brown University because I promised myself I would never end up like her—a drug addict running from one fix to another, one man’s bed to another.

  Now my uncle is holding my full college ride over my head, as collateral to get what he wants. As if I only have it because of him.

  He might be right. He did give me a home when I would have been placed in the system. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  Deep pockets earn you deeper connections in the messed-up world, and unlucky for me, William has all the right strings at his disposal if I screw this up. A tug here and a pull there and my whole future would crumble around my feet.

  For the second time.

  Resolve thickens around my spine and I lift my chin. I can do this. I have to if I want to finally be free of the man that has controlled every aspect of my life for the past six years.

  The plan I’m supposed to follow goes like this: Get in, flash some skin—well more skin than I already am—and snap some compromising pictures with my uncle’s boss with a minor.

  Easy in theory.

  Why, you ask? Well my uncle, the rat bastard that he is, has his eye on the CEO position of Savage Ink—Chicago’s finest marketing firm worth billions.

  Bigger paycheck, higher connections, and more power all sit at the top of William’s Christmas wish list.

  He always wanted what wasn’t his.

  He’s convinced a little game of holiday blackmail is all it will take to land him at the top with the current CEO, who happens to also be the owner, out on his ass.

  If it was up to me, I would fire my uncle from his already lucrative, well-paying job as Savage Ink’s chief financial officer. Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet since I know for a fact he’s suspected of skimming money from Chicago’s wealthiest man and owner of Savage Ink.

  My dirty little secret? I happen to know the truth behind those suspicions and have the proof to back it up.

  I find it hard to believe what I’m about to do and tingles of anxiety travel up my arms. I prefer a quiet room and a book to crowds. I shouldn’t be here and I know it. I shouldn’t have put on this ridiculous outfit or cute, frilly mask and I sure the hell don’t belong standing in the middle of a lavish ballroom clutching a shawl that costs more than my whole wardrobe put together like it’s a life-line. To do what I have no clue. Retreating isn’t an option and I can’t go forward when everything I fought and worked so hard for could be stripped from my future if tonight doesn’t go as my uncle expertly planned as if he and his elite friends are some Ocean’s Eleven crew.

  While my uncle may be loaded, I, on the other hand, live off whatever he deems fit to provide. And believe me, he's not a very giving person.

  I run my fingers along the embroidered napkin the blonde handed over with the flute of champagne and trace the golden initials M.S.

  Mason Savage.

  William’s boss.

  Even the name strikes fear and makes my heart quiver. Not to mention the stories I’ve heard. Don’t ever be fooled into thinking the rich aren’t filthy and underhanded. Money doesn’t buy class, honor, or morals.

  Whispers among my uncle’s closest confidants and friends have my stomach rolling from the unknown. The walls were not as thick as my uncle would like to believe and I hear the underhanded schemes he and his flunkies cook up over a bottle of whiskey twice a month like clockwork.

  Savage’s name is akin to the Reaper’s in the Shade household. Never said above a whisper and always feared as if were the devil himself. I have no idea who the elusive man is beyond that, but it’s safe to say the reputation that precedes him is a blackened one and I guess you could say as fierce as his name’s sake.

  I wish there was another way, but with a friendship base drier than the Sahara and the idea of a warm, welcoming, and safe home to call my own no more than a fantasy, well, let’s just say I’m low on options.