Claim 2: Volume Two

Claim Volume 2

Ashley Suzanne

Ashley Suzanne
Claim
© 2014, Ashley Suzanne
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.

This is a work of fiction.  All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.

Photographer – Toski Covey of Toski Covey Photography

Cover Design – Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative Cover

Editing – Ellie of Love N. Books

Dedication

For Lacy Daniel …

Because without the help and support of this wonderful woman, my books might not ever make it from my head to your ereader.  Next time you read one of my books, I’m able to keep a release date or you find out about a new release, just remember to thank Lacy.  It’s only because of her that any of this happens.

Thank you bean.  I love you more than words.  More than cupcakes.  More than Grumpy Cat.  More than Norman Reedus.  More than my kindle.

You’re the perfect other half of my heart.  You’re not just an assistant.  You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have in this life.  And for YOU, I’m grateful.

Merry Christmas Bean.

Chapter One

Jordan

Once upon a time, my mother was a lousy kind of mom.  After divorcing my dad when I was only six she bounced from man to man until she finally landed a billionaire who was on the brink of death.  Mom stayed married to Richard until he passed away and she lost her sanity.  Not because the love of her life died, more so due to the fact that his billions he had carefully earned over the years didn’t go to her in his will, but to his children and grandchildren—not a penny to her.

Somewhere between all the husbands she had over the years until Richard, she found a great man, one that treated me like his own child.  Patrick Fletcher was the best kind of stepdad; always there, never gave my mom grief over having a child, and never made me feel like I was a ‘step’ anything.  Leave it to my mother to divorce him for someone richer.  It was the way she worked.

The best thing about Patrick is even after the mess that was the end of their relationship, it never affected me.  Every Saturday in the summer, Patrick still picked me up to take me to a baseball game.  Sundays in the fall were similar, but it was football games.  If I had a school play or musical, he was there in the front row.  When I became a teenager and needed a job, he put me to work after school in the mailroom of his company.  Patrick paid for my college and gave me my first real job after I graduated.  I never received preferential treatment, but I always knew I had a home with him and his company.

Even when I screw up.  I guess that’s what dads are supposed to do.

A year ago, I screwed up and married my girlfriend Loren on a whim.  Stupid drunken mistake.  She deserved more and after watching my mother fail marriage after marriage, I wasn’t sure that I was the man to give it to her. 

Until I left. 

I spent nearly a year bouncing around place to place, trying to live down the regret of walking out of her life.  I can’t pinpoint exactly when I knew I wouldn’t make a good husband, but I can tell you the exact moment, down to the second, when I figured out I made the biggest mistake of my life letting her go.

It was the second that I went to her house—our home—to let her know I was back and if she’d have me, give me a chance to right the wrong I made a year ago.  Only, she wasn’t alone.  When his hands clutched onto her body that I knew so well and when she became pliable in his arms like she had done so many times with me, it hit me.  She’d moved on.

Loren deserved so much more than I could ever give her.  For Christ’s sake, I’m a child of a woman who couldn’t hold onto a good marriage if her life depended on it.  Not to mention if I didn’t have Patrick to save my ass from falling flat on my face, I’d have nobody.  Loren was different.  Better.  How could I ever be what she wanted let alone needed?

But, I would be.  Dammit, I’d make her see that even though I fucked up the last year of her life, probably caused her more pain that she should ever feel, I was the man for her.  I am that man.

I’m her man.

“Jordan, I want a divorce.  I’ve moved on.  I’m happy.  Please just let me be happy,” she told me, but I’d heard it before.  Soon after I left, she called me and told me the exact same thing, but I ignored her, much like I’m going to do tonight. 

“I’m not going down without a fight, Loren.  I’ll leave tonight, but I’ll be back tomorrow and we’re going to talk about all of this.  We’ll figure it out.  Trust me.”  When a man knows what he wants, he can’t be afraid to go after it.  She might think she’s moved on, but I have one thing going for me that the giant cowboy doesn’t.  She’s my wife. 

“Goodnight, Jordan.”  I move my foot from in front of the door, allowing her to close it.  I don’t want to leave, but there’s not much else for me to do right now.  I really need to be sizing up the competition.  What makes him so damn perfect?  She didn’t know I was here and she didn’t let him inside.  They must have just started seeing each other.  Even better for me.  I don’t have baggage to work through.

Tomorrow’s a new day.  The perfect day to get my wife back and reclaim her heart.

Chapter Two

Loren

Making my way to the bathroom, I pass by the mirror in the hall and staring back at me is exactly what two nights of no sleep looks like.  Terrifying.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to turn off the thoughts.  I did everything I could think of; sound machine, music, reading, lavender lotion, but to no avail, sleep was not in the cards for me.

Can you really blame me though?  After Jordan left, I fell apart.  The depression and wallowing didn’t last long, but it was long enough that I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to put myself out there again.  As a hopeless romantic, when I fall, I fall hard … and fast.  At least with Jordan I did.  It seemed from the second me we met that we were meant to be.  Whenever we were together, I felt complete.  Whole.  Needless to say, when he left, he took a part of me with him.

Now, I’ve met another man who in just a few short days, has me remembering those feelings I thought were long gone, never to be seen again.  A man who makes me feel wanted and desired. 

Leave it to Jordan to fuck that up too.  I should have just told him exactly where to put it so he’d believe me, but a part of me can’t. 

So, instead, I spent the weekend lying in bed, ignoring both Jordan and Nolan’s advances.  Even going as far as ignoring Cleo’s attempts to get a hold of me.  The Lifetime channel provided some entertainment, as did a complete rewatch of the Twilight movies.  I read three books, none to write home about, but kept me interested enough to finish.  And rounding out my manic weekend—an online shopping spree of the first three seasons of The Walking Dead.  I’ve already received one email from Joel about how he was enjoying the show I told him about, it’s only fair that I live up to my end of the bargain.

The shitty part about all of this—I’m due at work in a little over an hour where Jordan will most likely be there with his stepfather, Mr. Fletcher.  I’ve already been assured the software campaign is mine but may be expected to work with Jordan, if he shows.  After his demonstration the other night, he’s going to be there, if for no other reason than he knows I’m going to be there.

The entire situation has my stomach in knots.  Looking back now, twenty-twenty hindsight and all, I should have talked to Jordan over the weekend and got it over with.  Now, I’m bracing myself for the shit show I know will commence the moment he sees me.

Quickly going through my morning routine, I dress without any extra effort put into my appearance, other than the elaborate hair style I found on YouTube and decided today would be the perfect day to try, and not to mention breaking out my good bra that makes the girls look like they’re ready for a day of play.  Why do I do this, you ask?  It’s because I’m a woman.  I can tell myself all day long that I want nothing to do with Jordan, other than for him to sign the divorce papers, but the God’s honest truth, I want him to see what he’s been missing.  What he’s going to miss out on.  And what some other man will get a chance with one day.

Nolan.  I really should call him and brace him as well.  Although, I’m not exactly sure how to start that conversation.  “Hey Nolan, I know we’ve gone on like one date, maybe two if you count the night I was too shitfaced to drive myself home, but I just wanna let you know that I really dig you, but ya see, I’m a married woman.  He’s not even signed the divorce papers, so I’m no further ahead in ending the façade that was my marriage than I was when he walked out on me a year ago.  Not really sure why he left, but he did.  Oh, yeah, by the way, I work for his stepdad and we’re heading a campaign together.” 

Do you see how that can get misconstrued into something completely out of bounds?  Mentally facepalming myself, I realize there’s really no easy way to break the news.  Dammed if I tell him, dammed if I don’t. 

So, now that I’m all dressed and prepared, I rush to the car, drive well over the speed limit until I find the last open spot in the parking lot.  Winking to the heavens, I take a few extra seconds in the car, feeling very much like I’m having a panic attack, but quickly recover and give myself a little pep talk before walking inside.

“You’re not going to let him get to you.  You loved him once, but he threw it away.  You have a job to do.  You’re a professional woman.  You’re talented and can’t let one little misstep ruin the course you’ve been traveling since college.  You’re going to lift up your skirt, grab your lady balls and handle business like a fucking professional, dammit.”

Now that I’m officially pumped up, I think I might actually be able to make it through this day.  As soon as I’m through the turnstiles and into the elevator bank, the doors open and I slide inside just before they close.  Thankfully, I get to ride to my floor in peace.  Elevators are usually the epicenter for dramatic events.  Every movie, book, television show … when the woman gets in the elevator, she’s going to have a fight with someone or have sex.  Luckily for me, I get to just ride all by my lonesome, giving me a chance to collect my thoughts.

My joy is short lived when Jordan’s face is the first I see as the doors open on my floor.  But, very much to my surprise, he’s standing at reception chatting with Raquelle, paying no attention to me, my perfectly displayed breast or the hair-do.  Even when I walk past him, he doesn’t even try to follow me.

Feeling equal parts relief and confusion, I continue the path to my office, stopping at Mr. Fletcher’s door to tell him good morning but he’s not inside.  Once at my desk, my Monday morning routine continues just as if it were any other Monday and my estranged husband wasn’t chatting it up with the receptionist.  Voicemails get checked and responded to, same with the emails and interoffice mail, followed by a quick session of binge coffee drinking.

At nearly ten, the object of Jordan’s affection pages my office requesting that I meet Mr. Fletcher in his office in twenty minutes.  Gathering my notes for the meeting with the software executive, I smooth down my skirt and pull my blazer over my shoulders and head down the hallway.  With my back straight and my confidence full, I approach Mr. Fletcher’s door and knock softly on the jamb.

“Mr. Fletcher, are you ready?” I ask, stepping just inside the door, Jordan’s head turning to catch my eyes for the first time this morning.  Without Raquelle here to occupy him, his expression is no different than it was earlier; cool, collected and without emotion.

“Yes, dear, please come in.  The software company will be here in a few minutes.”

Taking a seat at the small conference table in the corner of his office, I set up my notes and prepare to give the presentation of a lifetime.  Being my first sole campaign, along side of a few coworkers, this is my baby.  I’m about to blow this out of the water.

“Good morning, Loren.”  Jordan’s voice drags me out of my own head and back into the room.

“Jordan,” I nod, digging through my papers until I’m confident everything’s in order and ready to go.

“It’s so nice to have you two in the same room again.  I’m sure that we’re going to do well with this campaign.  I have nothing but the utmost faith in this.  You always made a great team.”  It’s true.  Even before Jordan and I started dating, we worked very well together.  Pushing my personal feelings aside, which appears to be the same thing Jordan’s done, I smile at Jordan and he reciprocates.

“Mr. Fletcher, your appointment is here.  Shall I send him in?” a voice that’s not Raquelle’s pages.

“Yes.  Thank you.”

Rising from my seat, the gentlemen do the same and my jaw nearly hits the floor when a familiar looking face strolls through the door looking nothing like the last time I saw him.  Wearing what looks to be a very expensive suit that’s flattering for his larger frame, shoes that probably cost more than my purse, and clean shaven, Joel stops in his tracks when his eyes connect with mine and recognition sets in.