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Authors: Danielle Fox

Freed by You

BOOK: Freed by You
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Danielle Fox

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organisations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Danielle Fox

Copyright © 2013 Danielle Fox

All rights reserved

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review

First edition: May, 2013

Cover image by: ©

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ePub ISBN: 978-0-9576583-0-1

Kindle ISBN: 978-0-9576583-1-8

ebook by EBooks by Design


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five


Chapter One

“Sweet dreams, beautiful.” I pressed my lips gently against Maia’s forehead and lifted myself slowly off her bed, being careful not to wake her. As I made my way down the stairs, roughly piling my chestnut waves on top of my head, I could hear the TV blaring out from the front room.

“Hey, Maia is fast asleep; she went out like a light,” I said, poking my head through the small opening in the door.

“Was that a subtle hint?” Samantha replied in a mocking tone, raising a perfectly arched brow at me but reaching for the remote. “What time do you start?”

“Eight, so I’d better get my backside into gear!”

I hurried back into the small hallway of our apartment and began looping my woollen scarf around my neck and hastily pushing my feet into Samantha’s ridiculously high-heeled boots at the same time.

“Call me if there are any problems!”

Grabbing my bag from the small wooden table, whose only purpose was to house the small and delicate plant as a welcoming gesture, I reached for my keys and shoved them inside. As I unlatched the front door, Samantha joined me in the hallway. She was leaning against the wall, with her arms folded across her chest, and was giving me her most sincere motherly glare. This had always amused me a little. She was only three years older than me at just twenty-six, yet she had always mothered me, even when we were kids.

“Be safe, girlie. Make sure you taxi home!” she warned, extending her arm to invite me into a hug.

“I will, scouts’ honour,” I giggled as I held up three fingers to my forehead before returning her hug. “Lock the door behind me, I have my keys.” I sighed heavily and slumped against the adjacent wall. “You promise to call even at the slightest hint of anything being wrong?”

“She won’t even know you’re gone, Emily,” Samantha replied. “And besides, I’m her favourite Aunty Samantha, she won’t miss you,” she added with a mock smirk. “Good luck for tonight!” She beamed her magnificent smile at me as she ushered me towards the door.

“Thanks, Sam,” I smiled, feeling instantly reassured. “And you’re her only Aunty Samantha, she can’t have a favourite!” I joked as I pulled the door closed behind me.

I took a deep breath as I stepped out onto the street. It was only October but tonight felt much colder than usual and seemed considerably darker. I could almost smell the onset of winter as the crisp breeze waved across my unshielded face. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, fighting back a shiver, and quickened my pace.

Tonight was the first shift of my new job and I was extremely anxious about what to expect. I had worked part-time in a small, backstreet bar for the past fourteen months but had somehow managed to bag myself a new job at one of London’s most exclusive VIP members-only clubs, set in the prestigious Mayfair. If all went well I would earn a lot more money here – probably in tips alone – and could contribute towards my own drama studies at the Academy of Dramatic Arts instead of relying solely on my over-generous father.

As I neared St. James Street a wave of nausea washed over me, wrenching my stomach into a tight knot. I had to make a good impression tonight. Although this was one place I wasn’t sure I could ever fit in.

From what I had witnessed last Thursday when I attended my interview, every member of staff, security included, was absolutely stunning. The bar staff consisted only of women, all of whom were impeccably dressed in sexy yet sophisticated black outfits complete with high-heeled shoes that elongated their already too-long legs. More than that, their faces were equally made up perfectly without a single visible flaw. There was no doubt that these women, three of them I noticed, were beyond beautiful to the eye. I, on the other hand, was not stunning or beyond beautiful. I was ordinary. I wore little make up – something I might need to review in the very near future – and was a self-confessed hopeless fool when it came to dressing my hair!

I knew I would be grateful for Samantha’s nagging later. She had insisted that I wear one of her dresses. Of course, I had taken her advice and chosen a sleek, figure hugging, black pencil dress that fell just above my knee and clung to every curve of my slender body. The dress had a v-cut neckline which came dangerously low on my smaller chest but apparently showed just the right amount of cleavage to keep the men’s attention
. Disgusting!

As I reached the top of the steps leading to the back door of the ever famous
The Lounge,
I paused as I straightened myself and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Just then the door flew open with considerable force, narrowly missing my face. I gasped aloud and as I instinctively stepped backward, away from the danger, my left heel missed the top step and I felt myself tipping backwards as if it were happening in slow motion. Before I could force my brain to function and do whatever it was I needed to do to stop myself from falling, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist before I was hurled forwards into the very solid chest of a stranger.

, I thought.

I was instantly aware of the delicious aroma now filling my senses. A sweet but masculine scent oozed from his freshly laundered shirt. As I struggled to catch my breath a strong voice vibrated through the chest that I was still clutching.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I felt my cheeks redden and realised quickly that I was still clinging to him. I attempted to pull myself away, brushing tendrils of escaped hair off my flustered face.

“I’m fine, thanks. Sorry to hold you up. Thanks, I’ll be fine.” I was blabbering now, trying in vain to regain composure as I realised how ridiculously weak I must look.

As I straightened I felt the stranger’s strong grip release my hip as he no doubt noticed I had found my footing, finally! I struggled to find the courage to raise my head and look into the face of this unknown man, feeling somewhat off-guard and self-conscious, although I wasn’t sure why. I took a deep breath and peeked up through my lashes. The man staring down at me beneath furrowed brows momentarily took the air from my lungs. An audible gasp escaped my mouth before I had the chance to stop it.

I could tell by the way he had held me so firmly a moment before that he must have an exceptionally taut body underneath the expensive looking, perfectly fitted suit he was wearing, but his face was something different altogether. His face was by far the most extraordinarily exquisite human face I had ever set my eyes upon. As his piercing eyes locked intensely on my face, I found my own eyes wandering over his perfectly proportioned features. His large, deep eyes were an incredible shade of green with just a subtle hint of blue; they were almost glowing in their beauty. His nose was slim and defined and situated perfectly on his face. His full, pink lips were slightly parted and somehow completely inviting. I blinked that thought away, taking note of his sculptured cheekbones that sat high in his face and the strong, masculine jaw line that completed his profile.

I was quickly interrupted from my reverie as he spoke again.

“Why are you standing outside a back entrance? Are you trying to get yourself hurt?” he asked. He sounded somewhat irritated, his voice was stern, his tone clipped. “Who or what were you looking to find?” he snarled.

“Um...I...uh,” I stammered as his eyes revealed even more irritability than his voice had. His stare switched rapidly from one of my eyes, to the other and then back again.

“I’m Emily Braxton, I start work here tonight. I was told to come to the back,” I replied as I finally found myself again. I flushed involuntarily as his eyes searched my face, in hope for recognition I assumed.

“You’d better come in then.” He waved his hand toward the door that he was now holding open and I started with an unsure foot as yet again he caught me off guard.

“Well, Miss Braxton, I often have women falling at my feet but never before in such spectacular fashion!” he smirked as he raised his hand again, impatiently waiting for me to go inside.
Arrogant pig,
I thought and I could see he was trying his damned hardest not to erupt into laughter, his intense eyes alive with humour.

I managed to coordinate my jellied legs and hurried past him, taking care not to brush against him in the process. We walked in a very awkward silence as he showed me to a single door on the left side of a dimly lit corridor. He opened the door and gestured me inside.

The plain decor of this room did not match the extravagant and elegant appearance of the club, if my memory served me correctly. This room was spacious but not exactly huge. The walls were of a deep blue, with one wall on the right-hand side filled from left to right with tall, steel filing drawers. On the ceiling hung a lone, crystal chandelier that reflected a bright glow around the room brilliantly, almost like stars against the contrasting blue. In the middle of the room was a large red velvet arm chair facing towards a large dark wooden desk, behind which sat Ryan, the man who had interviewed me the previous week.

I noted the strong smell in the room of citrus furniture polish mixed with an array of masculine aftershaves. One coming from Ryan and one from the stranger in front of me, I assumed.

I felt somewhat comforted by Ryan’s presence; I had felt at ease with him last Thursday, which wasn’t usually the case for me when around attractive males. Though the strangers presence was, honestly, very unsettling. I felt like I was on tenterhooks, anxiously waiting for something terrible to happen, but I couldn’t fathom what, or why.

“Ryan, this is Miss Braxton. Apparently she’s starting work here tonight. I’m sure you’re capable of showing her the ropes, I have places I need to be!” the stranger beside me snapped.

“I most certainly am, Mr Scott. I’ve been awaiting your arrival, Emily.” He turned in my direction, smiling warmly. I glanced back towards the stranger just as his expression hardened.

“So you two know each other? You know the rules, Ryan!” he scowled. I caught a glimpse of what looked like strained fists positioned at his sides. Jeez, what was his problem?

“No, we don’t know each other, Mr Scott; we were merely acquainted last Thursday when you asked me to conduct the interviews,” Ryan replied in an equally sure voice. “And yes, I am aware of the rules, sir.” He finished with a shake of his head.

“Good! Be sure to keep a close eye on Miss Braxton, judging by her circus entrance moments ago, she could well be at risk of injuring herself or someone else!”

And with that, Mr Scott turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

“Blimey! What did you?” Ryan chuckled quietly. I simply shook my head and shrugged dramatically as my gaze lingered on the closed door.

I snapped my mouth shut as soon as I noticed that it was hanging open in a gormless manner, silently praying that Ryan hadn’t noticed my expression.

Who was that?
My mind wondered aimlessly as I still stared after the stranger’s exit. I hoped that he was no one of any importance, in respect to my working here, but judging by the fact that Ryan had just addressed him as sir, I could only assume that he was important, very important!


Chapter Two

As Ryan led me out of what I was assuming was the club office, my head swam with unanswered questions
. Who was this Mr Scott? What had I done to piss him off quite so
Well, other than gawp at him like an awestruck teenager.  Surely he was used to that kind of female attention; he must get it a lot after all.

BOOK: Freed by You
3.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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