Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (23 page)

He pauses, looking at it carefully, then brings it in. I can tell from the look on his face it’s not good.

“You don’t need to see this.” He places it on the table by my door. It’s my purse from this evening, dripping wet.

“I need to know. We’re in this together.” I look at the purse. At first-glance everything seems fine. Soggy, but fine. Then Mark pulls out the one dry thing inside the bag. It’s a picture of me on my knees in front of Blake, my mouth open, his hand on my head. You can tell by the pixels it’s a still he made from a video camera.

Across the photo he wrote in marker: “You’ll pay, bitch.” As a piece of punctuation, there is a white glob of ejaculate right over my face.

“Oh my god, Blake,” Mark says, the disgust evident in his voice. “Julia, I— ”

He stops as he sees the tears pouring down my face. I pull away from him, wondering if he feels that disgust from what Blake did on the picture or what I almost did with Blake. Mark leans over and takes my hand.

“Come on.” He pulls me toward my bedroom. We cross in front of the bed and head straight for the bathroom. He reaches in and turns the shower on; the room fills with the warm mist of the steam. “There is nothing of him on you. There is nothing of him about you. He is scum and you are beautiful.”

I feel him unbuttoning my blouse and I reach to help him. Undressing myself, I imagine my time in Blake’s office falling away from me like scales. I step in the hot shower and let the shame, the guilt and everything wash off me. As I release my feelings, wracking sobs pulling from body, I see his arm enter the shower, and the rest of Mark soon appears.

He stands behind me, holding me, kissing my neck. I stand still and luxuriate in his healing touch. He takes the soap from my hands, and begins to run it across my arms, back, breasts and body–washing me then kissing each area he has washed before. We stay in the shower, hugging and licking and loving each other until the water begins to cool.

Stepping out, he wraps me in a robe, dries me off, and puts his arms around me. We end up in my bed, my head on his chest, as he holds and kisses me. He doesn’t seem to expect anything. He just wants to love me. I feel myself falling asleep, the warmth and safety of his love healing my deepest wounds.

Chapter 23

The sun streams bright into the window, promising me a new day. A day filled with hope, justice, and most of all–love. Today’s the day the wrong is made right. Today is when Lynx begins again. I will be at court at one o’clock and free from this terror by two.

Mark is setting the table for breakfast, has coffee brewing and smiles when I walk out, disheveled in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt all sleepy-eyed.

“Hello, beautiful you.” His smile immediately brightens my morning.

“Hello, Prince Charming. Can you tell me where reality is? I seem to have left it some time ago.”

“No evil wizards here.” He looks around the kitchen. I contemplate kissing him, even with my morning breath when a knock at the door shatters the moment.

“Oh god,” I say wondering what special package Blake has left us this time. Mark moves as if to answer but I reach it first.

I look out the peephole and see a face this time. Two faces actually, each wearing a frighteningly familiar hat.

“Yes, Officer,” I say, opening the door just wide enough to see their badges.

“Are you Julia Sharp?” The front one asks, the one behind him taking something from his back pocket. Mark walks toward the door.

“Yes,” I answer. Did they catch Mr. Clank’s friend stealing my car?

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“What?!”

The second officer began pulling out his zip tie.

“Julia Sharp, you are under arrest.”

Chapter 24

This can’t be happening. Today is not supposed to be like this. I am supposed to drive with Mark down to the courthouse to present evidence of Blake’s wrongdoing and sign the rejoinder. Today is supposed to be the day I get Lynx back. Instead, these two cops are here at my door, about to crush my hopes.

“Wait. What?” My mind reels as I feel the officer’s rough hands holding my wrists together and slipping the cutting hard plastic around them again. “I can’t be! I haven’t—”

“You have the right to remain silent,” the second office reads off a card. “Anything you say can and will be used against you—”

“Mark!” I scream as they begin to guide me into the hallway.

“Officer, I’m Mark Stone,” Mark says rushing to the door. He’s trying to play it calm but the look of shock and fear is in his eyes. “Can I ask what’s going on?”

“She’s being arrested, that’s what’s going on,” the first officer says brusquely as he blocks the door with an elbow, a polite but clear gesture that says wherever we’re going, Mark is not coming with us.

“If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you.” The second officer continues droning.

“I can see that part, Officer,” Mark says clearly but with severe tone I’ve never heard from him before. “I am Miss Sharp’s legal contractor and I have the right to know why she is being arrested.”

“Yes!” I gasp as he turns me toward the hall. I see the neighbor’s door crack open but I am far past humiliation at this point. “Tell him!”

Mark’s natural authority wins the day and the policemen stop, momentarily, my progression to the elevator. The officer puts away his worn little Miranda card and opens a notebook. Both men seem to be standing straighter when addressing Mark. Having been over his lap for a stinging rebuke, I can attest it’s the wise thing to do.

“Miss Julia Sharp is being arrested for New York Penal Code Violation 251.15, Criminal Contempt in the First Degree.”

“But I’m not even going to court until this afternoon!” I blurt my mind solely on saving Lynx. “It’s not possible.”

Mark stands silently trying to mentally work his way through the information. One of the many things I realize I love about him is the way he stays calm and strong, never wavering, always in control. I’m not sure if it is a learned discipline or an inborn talent but it’s amazing. It can’t be inborn though, because Blake certainly doesn’t… Oh my god…

“Blake!” Mark and I exclaim at the same time having both mentally arrived at the answer.

“Contempt of court is cited due to the violation of an order of protection issued to Mr. Blake Stone and the property known as Sandstone Ventures,” the officer continues reading.

Dammit! That bullshit restraining order he filed against me after my first visit to his office finally comes back to bite me in the ass. Honestly, the pig had it coming to him, and despite the predicament I’m in now, I don’t regret slapping him across his greasy face.

“But that’s not what happened!” I start, however, I feel the officer pushing me down the hall away from Mark in the doorway. Having dutifully satisfied Mark’s “right to know,” the second officer accompanies the first in dragging me to the elevator.

“Julia, I’ll call Paul Fries right now,” Mark yells down the hall, probably realizing that “legal contractor” isn’t really a position recognized by anyone and deciding to withdraw before the officers figure out they’ve been conned.

“Forget me,” I shout quickly twisting around to call over my shoulder as the elevator doors open. “Save Lynx!”

If they’re taking me downtown for booking, who knows how long it’ll take to get processed through the system? Maybe at least Mark can go to the courthouse and present our case that Blake’s seizure of Lynx is illegal.

Once the bell chimes, I am forcibly pushed forward, facing the back of the elevator. One officer faces me, the other faces forward to stop anyone from coming in as we make our way down to the waiting squad car.

Approaching the car, I think about how many times as a reporter I’ve seen people loaded into the back of these boxy caged vehicles, and how different it feels when it’s your head being pushed down as you’re put into the back of the car.

Turning to the one holding my arms, I try to see his watch but can’t make the numbers out.

“Can you tell me what time it is, please?” I ask. I have to sign those forms at one o’clock. I hope that’s enough time for me to call Paul’s office and get out of holding.

“Why? Got a date?” he snickers as his hand goes instinctively to my shoulder to lower me into the back. “Watch your head, ma’am.”

“I didn’t violate any orders,” I say as soon as they get in and close their doors. “He invited me. He said he wanted to meet with me. So we could, well, so we could talk. You don’t understand, he asked me to come to Sandstone. I’m innocent.”

“That’s not our job to determine, ma’am.” the driver says as he pulls away from the curb. “It’s just our job to take you in.”

“Look, this is a mistake. I mean, I’m sure Blake reported I was there last night, because I was there. But I was only there to get evidence that he stole my company. He asked me to meet him because he thought he could, well, um, he wanted to take advantage of me, of my situation. Anyway, I swear to you I did not go there on my own and I don’t have contempt for any court.”

“Ma’am,” the policeman in the passenger seat says with his jaw locked and a stiff tone. “I am not a judge and he is not a jury. Save it for court, ‘cause we don’t care.”

I settle as much as I can against the back seat, feeling the bitter tears of anger and frustration fall down my cheeks. How does Blake do it? Every time it seems like I’m going to get my life back, or that we are going to finally outsmart him, he just pulls another ace out of his pocket. The officer must have realized he was ruder than necessary because he turns to me and speaks almost gently.

“In case you were still wondering, ma’am, the time is eleven a.m.”

“Thank you,” I reply, wiping my tears on my shoulder. I start doing the math in my head. If Mark and Paul Fries can get the paperwork together, and I can get someone from Paul’s office to come bail me out quickly, I can still make the courthouse by one to sign everything. I just need to get that phone call as soon as I can, and hope when Mark calls Paul he will have them set up and ready to answer my phone. My body starts swaying with excitement and false hope.

“Well, that perked you up,” the officer says with a smile and turns back around.

“I have a very important appointment this afternoon,” I try to explain. “If I can get my phone call from holding pretty quickly, I can make bail in time to get there.”

It dawns on me I’m starting to sound like some ex-con from the movies speaking in jail vernacular and displaying my inherent knowledge of the system. If I don’t stop getting arrested, soon I’m going to be known as “Jailhouse Julia.”  The thought makes me giggle a bit, until the informative officer brings all my joy to a stop.

“You won’t be getting bail, Ma’am. You’ll go from holding straight to your arraignment in court.”

“What? How long will that take?”

“Depends on the judge’s schedule. If it’s a light day, maybe six or seven hours. If it’s heavy you’ll probably be held over for night court. But don’t worry. Those dockets go fast. If you get bail, you could be out by about three or four tomorrow morning.”

“Unless Katie’s on leave. She’s the only bursar who stays late,” his partner corrects him.

“Yeah, but even if she gets bail the bondsman can sign a writ, maybe. I guess it depends on the judge,” he answers back, pretending I’m not in the back seat looking like a crushed tin can.

“What do you mean,
if
I get bail? This isn’t the way it worked last time at all!”

“Well you see,” the officer shifts in his seat and turns back around, his eyes aglow. You can tell he really loves the system, how it works and explaining it to budding lawbreakers like me. “The last time, you were given bail because the court put out a protective order. So you were released on your own recognizance.”

“But this time,” the driver continues, stealing his partner’s thunder, clearly not for the first time. “You violated a court order. So that’s a crime and it shows your intent to repeat the original crime and it means your recognizance clearly isn’t good enough. Thus, now you have to stand before a judge and defend yourself on both charges and show there’s someone else who will sign for you.”

“But that’s the thing. I didn’t break the order!” I stomp my feet as if that is going to magically open up their minds. “Blake asked me to come to his office. I didn’t just walk in by myself.”

“The thing you’re gonna like, ma’am,” the passenger points at me as if he is picking me for a ball game. “Is that the judge might be willing to listen to your story. Since you seem to want to tell it.”

“Until you get in front of the judge, though,” the driver continues, obviously used to getting the last word. “You should shut up about it. Because, no one in booking gives a rat’s ass.”

Gruffly but with an odd amount of care, the officers walk me into booking, guiding me through a maze of desks until they find one that is open. Standing me in front of the wooden chair, the officer who drove looks me straight in the eye.

“Promise me you’ll behave and I’ll cut you loose,” he says, motioning to the zip tie cutting into my wrists.

“I promise,” I reply earnestly. It is a baby step, but my first step to getting out of here and to the courthouse on time. He turns me around. I hear the click of a pocket knife and feel the sweet release of my hands coming undone. Bringing them forward, I rub my wrists looking at the swollen lines already turning red around each of them.

I sit down in the chair and look at the clock. It’s eleven forty-five. I’ve got an hour and fifteen minutes to make this work. Frantically I look around for the person who is supposed to be booking me. A heavyset sweating woman with a severely short haircut and hands the size of my head gives a deep sigh and sits down, peering at the paperwork the cop left. Taking her dear sweet time, she scans the orders as if she is memorizing my history.

“I’m sorry,” I start to get her attention. She frowns and looks at me from the side of the paper. “I really need to get this part done. Can we get started?”

She snort-laughs and gestures to me while she speaks to a male officer at the next desk. “She wants to get started.”