The Gate (Dark Path Series)

The Gate
Copyright 2013 by KT Grant

Cover art  Copyright 201
3 by Insatiable Fantasy Designs

The reproduction or utilization of this book in any form by mechanical or other means is forbidden by law. Copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and may result in fines of up to $250,000 or imprisonment.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Gate

The Dark Path Book 1

By

Acknowledgements:

First and foremost I must thank my fabulous editor, Laura Garland, who helped me make The Gate shine in so many amazing ways. Also, Kate Richards and Valerie Mann for their incredible insight and support. Many thanks to Monica Corwin and Jenny Trout, and to Jen K for her honest opinions back when The Gate was in its early rough draft stage. Thanks to Debra Hyde for our special conversation in New Orleans.

A big thank you to…

Anne Rice for writing
The Sleepy Beauty trilogy
thirty years ago.

Laura Antoniou for writing
The Marketplace series
twenty year ago.

Tiffany Reisz for writing
The Original Sinners series
that will surely become a classic in the years to come.

The Gate wouldn’t be possible without the influences of these three authors mentioned. Because they took big chances and defied conventions with their work, they helped me find the self confidence and daring I didn’t know I had in order to stretch my creative limits in ways I never thought possible.

To the real Louise, who during a phone call one steamy August night recommended I add something special to The Gate that wasn’t originally planned.

Louise, the ponyboys thank you.

“I felt for the tormented whirlwinds

Damned for their carnal sins

Committed when they let their passions rule their reason.”

-Dante Alighieri

Chapter One

Erika tried ignoring the tear in her stocking, but it irritated the spot where she nicked herself shaving. Without fail, she always grazed her ankle or some other spot on her legs. Why didn’t she think to shave first thing in the morning instead of in the shower an hour before she needed to leave for the awards ceremony honoring her father?

Sighing, she folded her hands in her lap to stop poking the run and making it larger. At least the limousine’s leather seat she sat on wouldn’t snag her stocking.

Her father gave her knee a squeeze. “You have your inhaler with you?”

She smiled, trying to put him at ease. “I’m fine. If I feel a panic attack coming on, I’ll find a bathroom where I can wait until it passes.”

Roger Walsh looked like he might argue but instead fixed the cuff links on his tuxedo jacket. A robust, vibrant man at sixty years old, he had little to no wrinkles on his face. In recent years, his black hair started graying. However, over the past few months, shadows had emerged under his eyes from the long hours he worked as CEO of Walsh Publications, one of the oldest publishing houses in Manhattan. She couldn’t be happier this wonderful man, who used to tuck her in bed at night and read to her, planned to retire in six months after decades of being a workaholic.

Her best friend, Kim gave her other knee a pat. “Don’t worry, Mr. W. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Erika rolled her eyes. “Stop coddling me. I’ll be fine. I’ve done a few meditation exercises. I also attended some events with large crowds earlier in the week, so I won’t fall apart tonight.” She wiped her palms on her ivory satin skirt to stop from inspecting the run in her stocking one more time.

Her father draped his arm on the back of the seat. “You remind me of your mother. She refused to capitulate from something she believed no matter how much I argued with her.” He tugged on his collar and blinked three times, an unconscious gesture that surfaced whenever he became emotional.

She squeezed his arm “Mom’s smiling down at us tonight. It might sound silly, but I can feel her presence. She’ll be applauding you along with everyone else when you accept the Humanitarian Lifetime Achievement award.”

He nodded, gifting her a bright smile. “Not silly at all. I’d like to think the same.”

Kim took out her ringing cell phone and tapped the touch screen. “Chris just left me a text. He’s already there, waiting for us.”

Warm tingles descended in her stomach. Christopher Milton, Kim’s brother and her father’s protégée, lingered in her mind. Five years older than her, she’d first idolized him in high school. Her cheeks warmed as she thought how her girlish crush had blossomed into something stronger because of what happened between them two weekends ago. After breaking off his engagement to his girlfriend of three years for cheating on him, he’d invited her over to his place to talk. One too many drinks, and one thing led to another until she found herself in his arms in a passionate lip lock.
I hope I’m not the rebound chick!

Kim snapped two fingers in front of her face.

“What’s that for?” Embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming, she cleared her throat.

Her best friend flipped her highlighted blonde hair over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Every time I mention my brother’s name, your eyes glaze over. You really need to tell him how you feel. It’s pathetic you still moon over him.”

“Kim!” She crossed her arms in a huff.

Her father chuckled. “Erika, it’s even obvious to me you care for Chris. I always thought you two would be a good match. Tell him you want to date or whatever you kids do nowadays.”

“Kids, Dad?” She bumped her shoulder into his. “I’m almost thirty. You treat me like I’m still in high school.”

“When it comes to my brother, you act like you’re in high school.” Her friend shook her head. “If you wanted to impress him tonight, you should have worn something sluttier, not a
Jessica Mclintock
knockoff better suited for a bridesmaid.”

She bristled at her friend’s patronizing tone.

If she only knew how much I’ve impressed him.
“It’s a
Dolce & Gabbana
original. The saleswoman complimented how the dress makes my chest look bigger.” She cupped her breasts to prove her point. The ruffled skirt flared out—which she liked—with a rose colored ribbon around the waist that flattered her more than generous curves. The bodice was tighter than what she was comfortable with, but it perked up her chest. Also, the half-demi cup bra she bought to mark the occasion made her feel sexy. “Did you have to use the word
sluttier
in front of my father?”

Kim opened her mouth to argue, but her dad held up a hand. “Something like that doesn’t bother me. Remember, I’ve edited romance novels for over a decade. Read more than my share of shocking sex acts to last me a lifetime.” He cleared his throat and stared out the rear window. “Kim has a good point. It might help to dress more provocatively. Try shaking up your wardrobe. There’s nothing wrong with showing some skin.”

Her jaw dropped.
This conversation is ridiculous. Next, he’ll give me sex tips on how to pleasure Chris
.

“We’ll stop teasing.” Giggling, her friend winked. “We’re almost there.”

She held back a rude retort, blowing aside a curl landing over her eye. She should have pinned back her hair like she usually did, but she liked the way it tumbled across her shoulders. The style suited her dress; the loose ringlets keeping the back of her neck—as well as her more than revealing cleavage—protected from the cool October evening.

“I have a reputation to keep. You can’t expect me to start wearing halter-tops and tight jeans. My agent would flip out.” She looked to her father for support, but he was checking his Blackberry.

“You’re a broken record, babe.” Kim shook her head in disapproval. “Just because you’re a popular middle grade author with a fan base under ten years old doesn’t mean you can’t loosen up. What does it matter what you wear? At least you’re not holed up in your apartment tonight like most of your Saturday nights unless Chris or I force you to come out.”

Her temper rose, but she took a deep breath. Her best friend loved pushing her buttons.

Her father muttered a curse.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Frowning, her dad slipped his Blackberry back in his jacket pocket. “Crawford’s going to be here tonight.”

“So?” She knew of M.L. Crawford, CEO of Crawford Media, but had never met the man. He didn’t make many public appearances, permitting his underlings to communicate with the outside world in his stead.

“Chris left me the message about Crawford. They don’t mix well together.” Her dad tapped his finger on his leg. “Let’s hope there isn’t an altercation between the two.”

“He’s a jerk.” Kim scowled. “If we meet, it won’t be pretty.”

“Crawford Media might be one of our competitors, but why don’t you like the man, and why would Chris start something with him?” Her curiosity grew by the second. “Did he insult you in some way?”

Kim pursed her lips, her eyes shuttering. “He’s a dick head. A rich egomaniac who enjoys the suffering of others.”

“You can’t keep me in suspense.” She pointed at her annoyed friend. “Spill!”

The car came to a halt.

“Oops, we’re here. I’ll tell you maybe after I’ve had a few drinks.” Without waiting, Kim opened the door and jumped out.

Still wanting answers, Erika cupped her father’s elbow, stopping him before he exited the car. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

“I don’t know much, but from what I’ve heard, there’s always been bad blood between Chris and M.L. I think it started when they both attended the same private high school. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Crawford’s an annoyance, that’s all. Because of my impending retirement, the snake has reached out on more than one occasion to make an offer.” His eyes grew frosty. “It will be a cold day in hell before I sell my company to anyone, least of all M.L. Crawford.”

With one last swipe down the front of his jacket and a kiss on her cheek, he stepped from the car then offered his hand to help her out as well. Inside the banquet hall, any further contemplation of M.L. Crawford, or even Chris, slipped from her mind as she joined the swarms of people. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself, hoping she didn’t end up blacking out or rocking in some corner from one of her panic attacks.

***

Max accepted the glass from the bartender, and as their fingers touched, the woman gave him an inviting smile. Saluting her, he then sipped the amber liquid. The scotch flowed down his throat, settling in his stomach like a warm blanket. He kept an eye on the attractive twenty-something bartender with dimples and plump lips. Her dirty blonde hair needed a color touchup, but it didn’t take away from her overall attractiveness. Maybe after another drink or two he would ask when she went on break, see how willing she was to show all she could do to him with her mouth.

Someone cuffed him on the back. He turned, his grip tightening around his glass.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be here tonight?” Alden, his personal assistant, took a swig from his beer. “I thought I was coming as your representative.”

He scowled in disgust. “It’s still early for my plans tonight. I have a few hours to kill, so I decided to show my face.” Setting down the empty glass, he dried his damp hands with the red handkerchief tucked in his tux’s breast pocket.

The same flirtatious bartender came over to replenish his drink. He zoned in on her face, enjoying the way she licked her bottom lip. His groin tightened as he imaged her sucking his cock, her tongue swiping over his balls.

Alden jabbed his elbow into Max’s side. The cocky younger man enjoyed teasing him, had done so for years. At times, it was annoying, but his aide did go above and beyond, handling any sticky problems or issues he didn’t want to be associated with.

“Have a hot date?” The guy flicked aside his frosted bangs. “I guess you’re over the loss of what’s-her-face.”

“Calista and I weren’t compatible.” He chewed on an ice cube, refusing to discuss his love life. But he’d toss his impudent assistant a bone to shut him up. “Fucking her was as exciting as watching water drip from a faucet.”

Alden snorted then drank down the last of his beer. “That’s an interesting way of describing your five minute relationship with the current ‘It’ girl who’s on the majority of billboards in the city.”

“She’s just a pretty face who failed to excite me the way I wanted.” He examined the crowd, not recognizing anyone.
Good
.

Most of the women sent him inviting looks, but ever since his month-long relationship with Calista, he hadn’t engaged in his weekly hobby to help him unwind. That would change tonight because after the awards were dispensed, he planned on skipping out.

“Soon enough you’ll be on stage, accepting an award like old man Walsh is,” his associate said in a sly tone, pausing for effect with a flamboyant gesture at the stage.

Setting his half-finished glass on the bar, he stuck his hands in his pockets. Alden swayed next to him, bumping his hip. Taking the bottle from his inebriated companion, he set it down, murmuring in a stiff tone for him to back off.

“Sorry, boss.” Straightening, the younger man stepped back.

He chuckled without much humor. “I don’t want to be the one rubbing your head while you puke your guts out in the bathroom because you’ve had one too many of those cheap beers you like.”

“Afraid the paparazzi or reporters here will attack you, make it look like you’ve hired a drunk?” Alden asked with a curl of his lip.

Gritting his teeth, he checked his watch. In about an hour, he would be in a much better place both mentally and emotionally—his cock satisfied. But when his assistant nudged him, he bit the inside of his cheek to stop from snapping. “I own most of the press here. The rest can be bought. I don’t give two shits what you do as long as it doesn’t interfere with the appointment I have after tonight’s kiss ass fest.”

“Okay, M.L. I’m running off at the mouth.” The guy lowered his head in compliance. “It’s been a long week for both of us.”

Feedback from the microphone held by a man in a white tuxedo vibrated in the room. Max jangled the change in his pocket, willing the ceremony to begin.

Alden yawned. “I might have to do a shot instead of having another one of those cheap ass light beers you like to tease me about. If I have your permission, Mr. Crawford, I’m going to the other bar down the hall. Would you like to join me, make sure I don’t end up dancing naked on top of the bar?”

“Sure, why not? I’ll have one for the road.” He slapped the man on the back who beamed back at him like a puppy praised by his owner.

He led his inebriated assistant along the edge of the ballroom. When Roger Walsh’s name was called, the old man walked on the stage accompanied by a woman with a halo of wavy chestnut brown hair and a short, strapless white dress showing off not only the expanse of her legs, but also a nice pair of tits. Max halted in his tracks.

Alden bumped into him, grasping his arm. “What’s wrong?”

His attention remained riveted to the stage—not on Walsh accepting his plaque but on the younger woman with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look standing next to him. Her smile was stiff, and she shifted from right to left. Beads of sweat moistened the swells of her mouth-watering breasts.