A Bleak December: Hanleigh's London (The Fate Series Book 4) Read online

  A Bleak December

  Author Friends With Benefits

  http://www.authorfriendswithbenefits.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Hanleigh Bradley

  http://www.hanleighbradley.com

  [email protected]

  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 permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This book is licensed for your personal use only. Please respect the authors work and refrain from sharing it with others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  The characters, organisations and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Thank you for reading A Bleak December.

  Check out Hanleigh’s website for more information about giveaways and upcoming book releases.

  Dear Reader,

  It’s never easy losing someone we love. This is a little something for everyone who has ever felt alone, true despair and loss.

  I hope you find someone who makes your world that little bit brighter, even in the bleakest of winters.

  Hanleigh

  “You made a promise but I knew you couldn’t keep it,” he looks down at me with a shy smile, “so I kept it for you.”

  Chapter One – Ella

  He’s my boss. That doesn’t stop me though. It doesn’t stop my mind from picturing him naked standing in my shower, water cascading down over his toned, muscular flesh. No. It doesn’t stop my inappropriate thoughts, and it definitely doesn’t stop me having them at the most inopportune of moments.

  It’s not like I just think about him when I’m lying in bed late at night.

  No, I fantasise about him during staff meetings, when he’s being a pain in the arse bossing us all around and when he’s reprimanding me yet again for being late.

  Do you want to know the worst bit? It’s not the thoughts. I can deal with my dirty mind; it’s always been that way. Dirty thought after dirty thought, wrapped in a world of dirty thoughts. No. The thoughts are fine; it’s the things that come out of my mouth. The actual words that I apparently have an equal lack of control over.

  Like right now, the whole room has gone silent in shock because of my stupid, big mouth.

  As if I just said that!

  I can feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment and my best work friend is laughing under her breath beside me. The bitch.

  Tristen had asked me why I was late. It was a reasonable enough question but why, oh why, couldn’t I give him an equally sensible response??? No. Instead, I only went and gave him the most ridiculous cock and bull story known to man.

  “Why are you late?” Tristan Riggens, my boss had asked in that deep, authoritative, yet almost disrespectfully uninterested voice of his. It’s a voice that threatens to destroy you while drawing you in, keeping you walking some imaginary tightrope.

  “My dog ate a condom.”

  Why that sentence made it past whatever filter I have, I will never know. Sometimes my mouth does unexplainable things, embarrassingly unexplainable. It’s a problem I’ve had since childhood and it shows no sign of improving.

  The room goes silent, but he doesn’t react at all. His face remains expressionless except I think I can see humour in his eyes, or at least I hope I do. He’s not exactly easy to read and right now I really have no idea what he’s thinking.

  “Well, I hope your dog is okay now.”

  “He’s absolutely fine.”

  I’m probably the colour of the Christmas tree in the corner. I think I might throw up my breakfast from the sheer embarrassment that I now feel.

  “Someone should call the RSPCA,” a voice says from somewhere behind me.

  “You might want to reconsider where you stash your condoms,” another of my colleagues pipes up with a laugh.

  My best friend, the one who’s supposed to be on my side is in fits of hysteria. In fact, she’s laughing so hard she’s close to choking. I hope she chokes.

  “Okay.” Tristan tries to divert their focus from me and my condom eating dog, back to the meeting. “New Year – we’ll be having an office party.”

  If he thinks talk of a party might move their attention from my poor imaginary dog, he is wrong and he clearly doesn’t know his team that well.

  “How on earth did your dog get a hold of a condom?”

  “Did it still have the foil wrapper on?”

  “Eww, it wasn’t used, was it?”

  I’m shrinking into myself. Massively embarrassed. Eyes on the floor. Cheeks burning hot. Head pounding. Heart palpitating.

  How the hell will I get out of this one?

  I have an uncanny knack for getting myself into a bit of a pickle and absolutely no skill at getting myself back out again.

  “That’s enough – I’ve heard more than enough about condoms and dogs for one day. Back to work.”

  He’s shaking his head as he dismisses us all before leaving the open offices of our floor of the TRW Advertising building. Walking into his office, he closes the door behind him.

  Lucky sod. At least he has a door he can hide behind.

  “Fuck,” I say under my breath.

  “Only you, Ella.” Sadie laughs beside me. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “I just open my mouth…” I sigh.

  “You don’t even have a dog!”

  “I know.” I’m groaning in mortification. “We should get back to work before Tristan gets all shitty.”

  “Or worse,” Sadie whispers, “Delos might come out of her office and have at us.”

  “As if – Clara’s too nice for that.”

  “To you. She hates me.”

  “That’s not true.” I laugh gently.

  The door to Tristan’s office opens once more, and he pops his head out.

  “Winthrope. Reed. Do I need to find you something to do?”

  “No sir.”

  Sadie nods her head before turning back towards her cubicle. I move to follow her, but Tristan is still talking.

  “Winthrope, in here, please.”

  “Shit,” I grumble before following him into his office.

  This is the moment when he finally tells me that enough is enough and I need to start being on time, or worse look for a new job. The new job scenario is probably more likely. My tardiness is my biggest failing. I’m lucky I haven’t already lost this job.

  He’s sat behind his desk; calm and composed in a way I have never been. He motions a hand towards the leather chair in front of him, and I take it gratefully because my legs are like jelly.

  My mouth is practically glued shut because I can’t trust myself not to say something completely absurd.

  His eyebrow is raised.

  “Your dog ate a condom?”

  “Yes.” My sister Tia says when you lie you have to own it.

  “Have you taken him to the vets?”

  “No. He… he just coughed it up,” I tell him, desperately hoping that he doesn’t see through my lies.

  “You do need to make a better effort to be on time for work in the morning.”

  “Sorry sir,” I tell him honestly.

  It’s not exactly news to me that I need to get my shit together.

/>   Chapter Two – Tristan

  Does she do this stuff on purpose?

  My lips are held tersely together as I struggle to keep my face clear of the laughter that erupted within me during the meeting. I’m supposed to be chastising her for being late and I can barely keep a grin from appearing on my face.

  “You do need to make a better effort to be on time for work in the morning.”

  “Sorry sir,” she replies, her head down, her expression disappointed.

  She’s one of the best employees on my team but she’s rarely on time It’s not like she ambles in half an hour late without a care in the world. She usually arrives in a whirl of chaos, looking as if she’s run a mile with bright pink cheeks, gasping for air.

  She just seems to be completely incapable of being on time.

  If she weren’t as good as she is, if she didn’t make marketing look like an art form, she’d have been fired long before I became her boss.

  That would have been both a waste of her talent and a shame for me.

  I can’t imagine a world where I haven’t met her. She’s a complete liar, a liar with a fantastic imagination and every time she’s late I wait for the excuse that’s bound to roll of her tongue, knowing full well I should rebuke her for lying to me, but finding the whole thing too damn amusing to even consider it.

  Every lie that she says with a dart of her eyes around the room intrigues me further – I really have no clue why she’s always late, except that she is keen to keep me and her colleagues in the dark about it.

  “Just do better.” I almost add a pet name onto the end of my words but stop myself at the last minute. “Tell me about what we are doing for Stone Publishing. What books are we currently marketing for them?”

  I struggle to listen as she tells me all about her work with Stone. It’s an important account, seeing as how our CEO is married to one of the daughters of Mr Lewis Stone.

  Even though I know it is significant and I should be paying attention, all I can do is watch her.

  She’s been running around like a crazy idiot and yet she somehow still looks stunning. The dark hair that I presume started in perfect bun is now dropping in wisps around her face, and her eyes are a vibrant blue as she animatedly tells me about her projects, her hands gesturing like crazy.

  When she’s finished, she claps her hands together excitably, reminding me that I’m supposed to respond.

  “Very well,” is all I can bring myself to say. “What time can we expect you tomorrow?”

  She has the good-naturedness to look embarrassed, blushing heavily.

  “On time, sir.”

  “And what time would that be?” I can’t resist making her squirm.

  “Nine, Mr Riggens.”

  She’s the only one that calls me that. The rest of my team have gotten into he comfortable habit of calling me by my first name. She never has and I can’t tell if I prefer it that way or if it disappoints me a little bit.

  “At least we know your tardiness has nothing to do with your ability to tell the time.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Better get back to work,” I tell her, except I’m really telling myself.

  I watch her leave my office, almost regretfully before turning back to my emails.

  There’s work to do, Rigs!

  I can hear music pouring in from the open space outside my office. My team are listening to Christmas tunes. Personally, I think there should be laws about listening to Christmas music before Christmas Eve.

  No one at TRW seems to agree with me though. I wouldn’t mind so much but it’s the first of December; I’m not sure I can cope with Christmas jingles for the whole month.

  As long as they don’t start singing along, we might just make it to Christmas Eve without any deaths.

  I pop my head through the door to check that they actually are working and in fairness other than the awful festive shit they have playing, you would be able to hear a pin drop.

  Returning to my desk, I make sure to close the door behind me. Perhaps that will keep the pesky noise out of my office.

  When my phone rings, I answer it abruptly.

  “Yes.”

  I don’t mean to sound testy, but seriously wouldn’t someone shut that crappy music up.

  “I have a Mr Trent on the other line for you,” my assistant says down the phone, completely ignoring my tone.

  “Very good. Put him through.”

  She doesn’t respond. She simply does as she’s told. The next thing I hear, my best friend Walker Trent is talking down the line.

  “Alright Rigs?”

  “Yeah, not bad. Why are you calling me at work?”

  Not one to beat around the bush, I’m straight to the point. I haven’t really got time to waste of chit-chat, mostly because I wasted time earlier with pretty, little Miss Winthrope, not that I minded one bit.

  “Nice to speak to you too.” He chuckles.

  He knows me well enough to know that I’m a dick. Fortunately, he doesn’t care.

  “Just wanted to know if you want to…” He takes a breath, before finishing his sentence in a rush, “come Christmas shopping with me.”

  “What the heck is going on with you?” I can’t stop myself. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Er…”

  “Number one, why the hell would we go shopping together? Second, Christmas shopping? Really! Why doesn’t anyone understand that it’s only December first? And third, have you ever heard of Amazon?”

  “I wanted your advice…” he mutters.

  Shit.

  “Fine.”

  “You’ll come?” His voice is so fucking hopeful.

  “Sure. What are we buying?”

  “An engagement ring.”

  His words leave me choking on my own tongue or the air in my mouth, I’m not sure which.

  “What the fuck?”

  “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  “You are?” I’d never actually imagined that Walker and Alicia would last this long, let alone get married. They are about as compatible as me and Christmas.

  “I love her. We’ve been together forever.”

  He’s not wrong. They started dating during our first year at uni, back when we were all eighteen and stupid. Now, we’re all twenty-five and less stupid, except apparently Walker because he still hasn’t worked out that his girlfriend, soon to be fiancée is a closet lesbian.

  Poor Walker.

  Poor Alicia.

  I take it back; they’re both still stupid. I’m the only grown-up amongst us.

  Chapter Three – Ella

  I’m running late! Again!

  This time instead of disappointing my boss, a grown-up who can handle it, I’ve broken a little boy’s heart. His eyes are tearstained as he stands at the window, hands pressed firmly against the panes of glass, waiting for me to pick him up.

  Fuck!

  I’d had to stay later at work to compensate for the time I’d missed this morning. That wouldn’t have been a problem, except that Riggens had pulled me into his office just as I was about to leave.

  It hadn’t even been about anything important.

  Now there is a pretty little five-year-old boy feeling like he’s been abandoned as he waits for me to pick him up from his childminder’s house.

  His eyes light up when he sees me get out of the car, only for them to go cold a moment later. He’s going to make me suffer for keeping him waiting. I’d promised to take him shopping for a Christmas gift for mum tonight.

  I won’t let him down any more than I already have but I know he expects me to cancel our plans. It’s written all over his little cherub face.

  “Ella, you’re late!”

  It’s the first thing he says to me when his childminder opens the door.

  No hug.

  No smile.

  Just those chastising words.

  “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

  It’s all I can say. Excuses don’t work on five-year-olds. You�
��re either there for them or you’re not, and right now I fit into the not category. I’ve let him down.

  “Never mind,” he says in a dismissive voice that tells me he’s used to it.

  Shit!

  That voice cuts me deep. I don’t seem to be getting this right. His childminder frowns as she sees my face drop.

  “Thomas, your sister came as quickly as she could. Besides, why do you look so sad? You’re going shopping for that extra special gift for your mum, tonight. Remember?”

  “We’re not going now.”

  He turns to look at me, a challenge in his expression.

  “Are we, Ella?”

  There’s no hope in his voice.

  “Of course, we are. I promised.”

  “You promised not to be late too.”

  I have no come back for that one.

  We’ve been in every shop imaginable, looking for the perfect gift but nothing he sees matches up to his ideas of what he should give her.

  He shakes his head every time I make a suggestion.

  I’m not sure what he’s looking for exactly and I’m not convinced he knows either.

  “It needs to be the most perfect present… good enough to wake her up.”

  He’s going to be so disappointed come Christmas Day when she doesn’t, but I can’t bring myself to burst his precious, little bubble.

  Thomas, I’m not sure any present we buy can wake her up, I tell him in my head.

  I’m a far better guardian to the small child inside my own mind than the one standing in front of me. There I get it right, but in reality, I get it all wrong.

  I look up and spot my boss, Tristan Riggens across the department store. He’s with a friend. They look like they are joking about.

  It’s so bizarre to see him outside of work.

  As Thomas searches for the perfect gift, I covertly watch Riggens. His smile is so real, bone-deep in that way that only people who have been happy for years seem to be able to pull off.

  His eyes dart towards me and I quickly avert my gaze, looking down at the book Thomas is trying to show me.

  “We could get this…” He is saying. “It’s not the perfect gift but you could read it to her. She likes it when you read to us.”