MOMENTS
of
JULIAN
KEARY TAYLOR
Copyright © 2014 Keary Taylor
MOMENTS OF JULIAN
Keary Taylor
Published by Keary Taylor at Smashwords
First Edition
Copyright 2014 Keary Taylor
ISBN 978-1497581838
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and download your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ALSO BY KEARY TAYLOR
What I Didn’t Say
FALL OF ANGELS
Branded
Forsaken
Vindicated
Afterlife: the novelette companion to Vindicated
THE EDEN TRILOGY
The Bane
The Human
The Eve
The Raid: an Eden short story
The Ashes: an Eden prequel
CONTENTS
Copyright
Also by Keary Taylor
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 Twenty-Six
Acknowledgements
About Keary Taylor
CHAPTER ONE
If you fake being tough and unaffected by everything long enough, eventually it can actually become real.
I would never give this advice to my younger brothers, but it’s a philosophy that’s gotten me this far.
Sage McCain. I’m twenty-seven years old, a graduate of the University of Washington. I’m five years into my career at Digit Securities, the top financial security agency in the United States, soon to be western hemisphere, and I’m already their top client executive.
I made my first quarter of a million as a senior at UW. I discovered the stock market, and it was good to me.
And by the end of next year, I plan to be Digit’s CEO.
I am by no means one of Washington State’s elite rich, I do have realistic expectations. I’ll know when enough is enough to make me happy. Money can, after all, only get you so much.
It’s the respect I want. I am admittedly a prideful person.
But I am by all intents and purposes happy and set for the moment.
Last year I sold my place in the Bellevue tower for a place closer to the water. Now my bedroom overlooks Lake Washington, and I’ve got four thousand square feet of brand new, prime condo real estate. Don’t let the word condo fool you. The place cost me one point six million dollars.
My life is comfortable and routine, except for when work requires travel. Morning workout at the clubhouse, a healthy breakfast, dress in something intimidating and fabulous. Go to work. Blow the socks off my client’s feet, woo my boss, Mr. Gideon Maxwell, into thinking I’m the best thing that’s happened to this company since some nerd invented the Blue Wall, the revolutionary technology that launched his company into the billions of dollars in revenue spectrum.
Then I come home to the perfectly arranged home I call mine. I order in dinner sometimes. I frequently visit my parents in Woodinville. I even sometimes hang out with my brothers.
Bed. Repeat.
Never let people see the real you. Show them the confident, take-no-BS you that isn’t afraid of speaking her mind and grabs life by the testicles and wears amazing shoes doing it.
It’s gotten me this far.
“Gretch!” I yell from my office. Scanning the email once more, I click send as my assistant appears in the doorway.
“Yes, Miss McCain?” she says. I smile as I look up at her. Gretchen O’Bell is the perfect assistant. She’s somewhat terrified of me, does everything I ask, promptly completes a task, and eagerly awaits the next request. She’s ambitious, but also timid. And she has no idea I would stab anyone in the eye with a fork if they tried to steal her away from my employ.
“Any idea what the final head count is for the client banquet tonight?” I ask as I grab my phone from the desk and tuck it into my handbag.
“Last I heard it was two hundred twenty,” she reports without a second’s hesitation.
“And is VitaLix coming?” I ask as I shut the computer down and start for the door. Gretch turns and walks with me toward the elevator. “You’d said you couldn’t get a hold of them earlier. I really need them to be there to close this deal.”
“Mrs. Albatros called me back twenty minutes ago to let me know she’ll be there,” Gretch says with a smile as she pushes the down button for me.
“Perfect,” I say, a smile curling on my own lips. A ding sounds and the doors slide open. Out steps Brian, one of our IT guys, and Gretchen’s boyfriend. He gives me a tight-lipped smile and presses a quick kiss to Gretch’s cheek as he joins her side. With well-practiced effort of wearing five inch heels for the past nine years of my adult life, I step past him and inside the elevator.
“Gretch,” I say as she turns to walk away. She looks back, her eyes expectant. “You’re not my assistant tonight. You’re just an employee of Digit. Enjoy being spoiled. Have fun. And wear something fantastic.”
A wide grin spreads on her face and she gives an appreciative nod. I wink at her as she walks away, hand in hand with Brian.
Digit Security’s building isn’t by any means the tallest in Bellevue, Washington, but we do have the entire ten stories to ourselves and it is less than ten years old. Which in commercial building terms, is practically brand new.
The elevator reaches the underground parking level and lets me out.
There is a row of seven reserved parking spaces right in front of the elevator. One for Mr. Maxwell, obviously. One for the CEO, Corbin Matters, whom I plan to replace before too long, one for visiting shareholders, one for the chief accountant, one for important guests, one mystery space, and one for me.
And waiting for me in that space is a beautiful, shiny, silver BMW X5. A little present I bought to myself when the boss gave me that eighty thousand dollar bonus last spring for closing the biggest deal in three years. The SUV still smells new when I slide into the seat and toss my bag into the passenger seat.
Dustin, the security guy, smiles as I pull up to the exit. I roll my window down as he swaggers out of his booth toward me.
“Tonight’s the big ball,” he says in his Southern drawl that is so charmingly out of place here in Washington state. He rests his forearms on the window seal of my car. “You found a date tonight yet? Cause my offer still stands.”
“Oh, Dustin,” I say as I lean toward him, letting my voice drop an octave. “I’d think by now you’d know women like me don’t need dates. I’m all I can handle by myself.”
“Why don’t you take a picture of that tonight and send it to me?” he says, a coy smile curling on his devilishly charming face.
“A
w, baby,” I say, putting on my pouty face. “You’re so cute when you try to smolder.”
Unlike some men, this doesn’t offend him or deter his efforts. He takes it as a challenge. One he knows he will never win, but takes none the less.
“I know you like it,” he says as he winks and walks back toward his booth. I just smile and shake my head at him as he opens the gate and lets me out.
One of the privileges of being one of Digits most liked employees is I get to cut out of work at four instead of five, thus avoiding the worst of Bellevue’s mind-numbing traffic. What takes me fifteen minutes to get home now would take me forty-five in an hour.
It’s a steady drop toward the water and into the condo. Clicking the garage door open, I slip in silently and close myself in darkness.
“Kale?” I call out as I step inside and sling my purse over its usual hook in the mudroom. My heels click on the tile as I walk into the kitchen.
“Yeah?” he calls from upstairs in his room.
“You going out tonight?” I ask as I sort through the mail on the counter. Bills. Junk. A wedding invitation from some girl I vaguely remember from high school.
“I do believe it is a Friday night,” he says. A moment later he rounds the corner.
My brother is wearing nothing but an extra-long pair of sweat pants. His dark brown hair is perfectly styled in that slicked, swept back look that is so in these days. With all his hours at the gym and his natural good looks, it’s a perfect combination for trouble and a flock of groupie girls.
It doesn’t help that he does a bit of modeling on the side to pay the meager rent I charge him.
“No booze tonight, okay?” I say, barely taking the time to flash a glare at him.
He doesn’t show any signs that he catches it though, and heads straight for the fridge. Taking out a gallon of orange juice, he downs half the container in one breath.
“There, now I won’t be thirsty all night,” he says pointedly as he smacks his lips and puts the container back.
He winks at me and grabs an apple from the bowl on the counter. He presses a quick kiss to my cheek before he passes me and settles at the table.
“Isn’t that fancy work ball of yours tonight?” he asks around a mouthful of juicy flesh.
“It’s a banquet,” I correct him as I toss half the mail in the recycle bin. “And yes, it’s tonight.”
“How much did you spend on your dress and shoes?” he asks, an annoying smile curling on his lips.
“None of your business,” I say, fighting a smile. I grab a glass and fill it with water from the fridge.
“You only say that when the dollar amount is at least a thousand,” he teases.
“You want to go back to living with Mom and Dad?”
“No, thank you,” he says, quickly standing. “And that is my cue to go get myself ready for the night.”
“Yeah,” I call after him. “You’d better run!”
I hear him chuckle and a smile forms on my lips.
There are four children in the McCain family. The oldest is Drake, who is a high school History teacher. He’s been married for five years and has already brought two children into this world with the help of his wife Kaylee, who also used to teach. And they just announced they’re expecting twins. I may act all tough, but their kids are my kryptonite.
Next in line comes me, the only girl; and then there’s Lake, who joined the Marines the second he graduated high school. My mother sobbed for two weeks, asking him why he didn’t just go and try to get himself blown up here at home. Mom can be dramatic sometimes. And finally there’s Kale, baby of the family, age nineteen, trying to make his way through Bellevue College.
We aren’t always nice to each other, but we’re a family. What more could you expect?
Upstairs, my bedroom has a spectacular view of Lake Washington. Floor to ceiling windows stretch along the west-facing wall. On the east wall is my bed which was decked out by my interior designer best friend, Avia Leroux. Golden satin bedspread, soft sage green pillows, of course, with golden stitching. The headboard is made of soft white leather. Standing seven and a half feet tall, it is dominating. Thick black stitches make an ornate pattern into the cushioning.
In the middle of the room is a circular ceiling drop down and at its core, an iron and crystal chandelier.
I head for the closet and can’t help smiling in satisfaction.
The space is large and extravagant and one of the spaces in this house I was most specific about. Measuring ten by twenty, the entire back wall is a shoe rack. There are drawers and shelves and hooks and every inch of the space is meticulously organized by my housekeeper Martha.
And hanging front and center, is the dress I will rock the Digit world with tonight.
I undress, slip on a pair of skimpy black panties, forgoing a bra since the dress leaves no room for one, and pull the dress out of the bag.
Black satin slides down my body and hugs my legs like a desperate lover. The top has a low-cut neck, my shoulders exposed. But it is the back that is my favorite and completely the reason I overlooked the price tag.
The top panel is like an upside down triangle, made of see-through fabric and edged with thick black lace. Two more panels wrap around my sides and connect at the middle, leaving my shoulder blades and lower back exposed. Just enough to be tempting but not enough to be considered un-classy.
I had my hair and makeup done during my lunch break and it still looks perfect. My honey-brown hair is done up and curly. It’s hard to go wrong with a classic up-do. My eyes are perfect smoky artistry with a hint of purple in them. And the aesthetician managed to make my cheekbones look sharp and fragile.
I don the new pair of black heels and take an approving glance in my floor length mirror.
It’s time to woo the money out of a few deep pockets.
“I will have the paperwork drawn up on Monday,” I say with a smile. Mrs. Albatros extends a strong looking hand and I shake it firmly.
Really, the woman is intimidating, but not in the way of power, not that she’s lacking it.
At sixty-five, she’s in better shape than I am. Her snow-white hair is up in an elegant twist and her red sleeveless dress shows off firm, strong arms.
VitaLix owns half the fitness and health products in the United States, even if those products don’t bear the name. She’s built an unstoppable empire over the last twenty-five years.
And I just closed a huge deal with her.
“It looks as if they’re about to serve dinner,” I say when I notice the waiters bringing out wine glasses. “Shall we find our places?”
Digit Securities lobby is enormous and it was built with events like these in mind. The ceiling is vaulted up five stories and the strands of lights that crisscross the space above our heads gives an elegant glow. There are candles glowing on all the tables and ornate centerpieces give off the feeling of being at a royal ball. The gowns and tuxedos don’t hurt either. Everyone is dressed not to impress, but to dominate and intimidate.
“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is about to be served so if you will all find a place to sit, the waiters will be with you shortly.” Mr. Maxwell voice booms over the hundreds of people in the room.
There are two banquet tables on either side of the lobby. Just as beautifully decorated and ornate as the rest of the space.
Seeing that Mrs. Albatros has already taken a seat next to Henry, our contracts attorney, I decide to leave them be, and head for the opposite table.
I am one of the first to sit and the moment my rear end touches the seat, a waiter is offering to pour me some very expensive wine.
“No,” I say quickly, catching him just before he pours it into my glass. “Just water, please.”
He seems confused at first, but knowing he will be fired if he upsets anyone here, hides the expression quickly. He waves at another of the waiters, who comes over with the water.
“Seems like a waste, not to drink expensive wine when it’s free.”
/>
I look up to find the face belonging to the voice and fix my eyes on a man settling into the seat directly across from me.
“I like having a clear mind when socializing with clients,” I say, the smile on my lips bordering between flirtatious and annoyed since I don’t yet know who this man is.
I’d guess he’s a few years older than me, not quite thirty. His frame is fit and toned but in the thin way. His suit hugs him nicely. His hair is dark and parted and slicked back. What looks to be two days’ worth of facial hair clings to his face, but considering the clean line just under his jaw, it tells me he keeps it that way on purpose. Dark green eyes dance as they study me as well.
“I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” I say, trying to keep back the approval that is curling on my lips. “I hope this is not a devastating error in my memory.”
A smile starts to form on his face as well and I try to suppress the fire that wants to ignite in my blood. “Not at all. I can without a doubt say we’ve never met.”
I raise an eyebrow at him as people start filling in around us. “So are you a client or an employee I have yet to come across?”
“Neither,” he says as he takes the wine glass the waiter has just filled and presses it briefly to his lips. “I was a plus one to this shindig, but then my date got sick. Seemed like a shame to bail out on such a nice party just because my date could no longer attend.”
“So you’re crashing the party?” I ask, giving him a dubious look.
“Trust me, when I attend a party, it never crashes.”
He is looking at me from under a fringe of long, dark eyelashes with a gaze that would melt the panties off of any woman.
I’d wager he’s never met a woman like me though.
The tables now fully seated, we are suddenly swarmed with waiters. Large plates are brought to each of us, filled with grilled salmon, asparagus, garlic mashed potatoes, and other foods that I am not even sure what they are. Baskets of sweet-smelling bread are placed between groups of four, and dishes with various types of butter accompany them.