The Hunt: Protectors of the Wild Book 1 Page 2

  I nodded my thanks and we were soon stepping out of the elevator together. Jason was exiting his office when he noticed us. “What's this Amanda? Can’t you carry my dry cleaning? Don't I pay you?” He ended this last question with a laugh, something he did often. A little jab could be dismissed when it was played off as a joke. I was used to it, but it still pissed me off.

  “You do pay me, Mr. Haywood-and quite well,” I amended with a fake smile. I thanked the tux man once again before he turned back towards the elevator. “I’ll just hang these in your en suite bathroom, then,” I informed Jason as I walked past him. I wasn't in any kind of mood to hear any more quips about how I didn’t do my job.

  “Amanda?” he asked.

  “Yes?” Great, what now?

  “Once you've hung those up, you can leave for the day. I know you’ll want to get home and get ready for tonight." What? He sounded genuinely nice, but I knew under his kind exterior, he was holding back something he left unspoken. ‘Go home early, take your time getting ready-I’ll work you like a dog tomorrow.'

  But I’d deal with that in the AM. Going home early meant less time near Jason, and I was down for that anytime. "Thank you. I’ll see you at the yacht at eight, then.”

  “Yes. Oh, and Amanda?” Shit...

  “Mmm?”

  “I look forward to seeing you in your dress tonight.” He winked at me and I forced a brief nod before leaving.

  *****

  I had a half hour before Jason’s driver would be here to pick me up. I had my makeup done and just needed to finish curling my hair before sweeping it back into a low side pony. It would compliment the dress’s neckline without being too revealing.

  I had chosen a simple black lace gown that had a strapless sweetheart neckline and flared slightly at the bottom. My Manolo Blahnik’s would be covered by the hemline, but they were my favorite pair of shoes, and also the most beautiful shade of emerald green. A pop of color and diamond studs would complete my look, and I knew the color choice of shoes would most likely make Jason mad-another reason they were my favorite pair.

  I smiled to myself thinking of his reaction when he caught a glimpse of them peeking out beneath the black lace. It was one little thing I would afford myself to do-I was responsible in all aspects of my life, especially while on the clock, so if I was basically forced to go to these absurd parties, I would do it with certain conditions.

  As I slipped said pair of shoes on, the doorbell rang and I opened it for Mitch, the driver. “One second,” I told him. I grabbed my clutch and headed towards the door and locked it behind me. It was only a ten-minute drive to the marina where Jason kept his yacht moored. This wasn’t my first rodeo, so once I was aboard, I planned on checking in with him, saying the obligatory hellos to certain guests and then hopefully slinking into the shadows with a seltzer water and lime.

  Boring. But it should be a pretty uneventful evening for me.

  “Ah, Amanda, there you are, my dear.” Ugh, he had found me before I had had found him. I hadn’t even had a chance to mentally prep yet, so I steeled my resolve before turning around and greeting him.

  “Mr. Haywood. Lovely evening. Do you require anything of me before I find myself a refreshment?” Keep it professional. Keep it benign.

  “Allow me,” he offered and snagged a filled champagne flute from a server passing by.

  I held up my hand in refusal. “Thanks, nut no. I’ll stick to seltzer-which I’ll go find…” Though I would like nothing more than to drown this evening in liquor, the last thing I needed to do was inhibit my senses around him. Deflection; I was a pro at that by this point and I used it to excuse myself from his presence.

  Like I suspected, he only needed me here to be his ‘office eye candy’ to show off to his rich friends and colleagues. Surprisingly, they were all a tad more respectful than Jason, but only marginally. I made my way to the bar where I ordered my go-to non-alcoholic beverage of choice. I thanked the bartender and made my way outside to the bow of the boat where I knew of a spot that would garner me a bit of seclusion.

  Only I was stopped by Charles Jackson of Jackson Enterprises. He was a man worth almost as much as Jason, and flaunted his worth like it was going out of style. “Miss... Mandy, was it?” He hadn’t even been drinking, there was no evidence on his breath, but he was in a right mood. All of these people would get together and have to flex their wealthy muscles to see who was worthy.

  “Amanda,” I corrected him, not that it mattered. I wondered what pompous thing would come out of his mouth.

  “Amanda! That’s right, how could I forget such a beautiful name that matches an even more beautiful face…” He had my hand in his and placed a kiss on my knuckles. Too bad I couldn’t extend them into his face and be over with this fake exchange of niceties.

  I forced a flat smile before taking my hand back. “I’m sure you meet a lot of pretty faces in your line of work…say, how’s your wife? I’ve been following her charity-very impressive work she’s been doing.” As suspected, the mention of his wife soured the charm he was trying to exude and his face fell flat.

  “Splendid, she’s splendid, thank you,” he said standing a little straighter. “May I get you anything stronger to drink?” he asked as a last-ditch attempt to keep me in his company.

  I lifted my tumbler and this time I smiled genuinely. “Thanks, but no. On the clock you know…now if you’ll excuse me, there are some things I must attend to for Mr. Haywood. Enjoy your evening.” With that, I slipped away and found the spot which would allow me privacy, but also excellent people watching.

  The rest of the evening passed with boring predictability, but at least my exposure to Jason was at a minimum. If there were rich assholes to impress, then he’d be tied up all night, and that was something I was just fine with. As one AM drew closer, the party was reaching its peak. People were drunk, obnoxious and loud. Time for me to go home. I found Mitch and had him take me home.

  Tomorrow was a new day, and while Jason had the luxury to saunter into the office at half past whenever he felt like it, I was not afforded that luxury. I was home within minutes and once the door was closed and locked, the silence was deafening, but welcome.

  I changed quickly and slipped into bed, relishing in the coolness of the sheets. Hopefully Jason would come in really late tomorrow and the day wouldn’t prove too difficult.

  *****

  “Amanda!” I had to physically keep my face from scrunching up in disgust. At least he couldn’t see my reaction since he was using the intercom to summon me. I’ve almost come to hate my name, or at least when he said it-which was at least a million times a day. “What can I do for you Mr. Haywood,” asked my sweet tone that was all but fake.

  “Just get in here.”

  I all but did a mock salute but, again I buried my disgust and slowly rose from behind my desk. My designer heels clicked on the polished marble floor that was one of the main focuses of the building. As much as I liked the wardrobe I was required to wear, I hated it because I knew it was for him. He basically dictated everything: my clothing, brands I wore, nail color, hair length-you name it.

  In the beginning it was exciting and I got a rush. Getting dressed each morning, pulling back my hair into a polished pony, applying my eyeliner with precision-it made me feel good, feel pretty. Evidently it had worked because Jason took notice also. And not in an oh my god, your insanely attractive, rich boss has the hots for you kind of way. No, he took it to other levels. That was one thing about Jason, he never half assed anything. If he saw something he wanted, he went for it. And shortly after I was hired, I was his number one target.

  It started with verbal comments, looks, insinuations and events after hours where I’d be required to be present. If the money wasn’t so good...if only I had gone on more interviews...I was married to the job and it left very little time for dating or a social life.

  I was met with an unreadable expression on his face as I entered his corner office that was floor to ceil
ing windows. This place screamed of fake niceties and real assholes. Plaster a smile on your face right now Amanda, I chided myself. “What can I do for you,” I asked without preamble. The quicker I got in the quicker I could go back to my desk.

  He leaned back in his leather chair and steepled his fingers with elbows resting on his hunter green leather desk top. “Well, as you know, my annual hunting trip is upon us,” he said this like it involved me. Every year I’d arrange his trip to Alaska where he owned a huge mansion of a cabin in the middle of God knows where and hunted God knew what. It was the only vacation I got each year. He’d leave town for a week and I’d be left to field his calls and emails and basically have the office to myself. So, yeah, that was a vacation for me.

  Anticipating his thoughts, I said, “I’ll arrange the jet for you. Is it this weekend you’ll be leaving?” It was Wednesday and he always flew Friday nights. Routine, routine, routine.

  “Yes. I want to leave Friday night.” Shocker. I turned to leave his office with a nod of understanding when he cleared his throat. “Oh, and one more thing...”. Shit. “Look in your top desk drawer when you sit your pretty ass down again. The money is for you to go shopping.”

  This time hiding my expression was futile. “You look like a codfish, close your damn mouth. You’ll need to go shopping for some warm clothes,” he said while he straightened a sheet of paper on his desk.

  “Sorry, but why...?” I asked incredulously.

  “Didn’t I tell you,” he says with a grin that could rival the devil himself. “You’re going with me. To. Alaska.” He punctuated each word like they were nails in my coffin. A coffin I’d apparently built myself.

  “B-but, I don’t want to go to Alaska!” I’d let my inner child come out and smoothly amended my unpolished manners. “What I meant to say is that there will be no one to field your office calls and schedule appointment if I go.” Surely, he wouldn’t need me to come along on his stupid man trip.

  He just looked at me like you would as if you were trying to explain to a child how to add two and two together. “The calls will be directed to your business cell and you obviously know how to check company emails on a phone as well. Don’t be so daft.” One of his top shelf words he liked throw around. At me. Describing what he thought of me. “Get to packing-we leave Friday night, but you already know that.”

  *****

  Shopping wasn’t the problem. I never minded shopping, it was the reason behind this excursion that made me mad. A week in close proximity to this grade-A asshole. And decked out in attire that had to look good but I needed something that would actually keep me warm. Maybe I’d find something that I could drown in so as not to call attention to my curves. It was late August but I assumed it would still be pretty cold, especially in comparison to what I was used to. Plus, I really had no idea where in Alaska we were going. I’d always just called the hangar and informed the pilot of the upcoming trip Mr. Haywood would be taking. I doubted it was some place as ordinary as Anchorage or even Ketchikan. Not with Mr. Moneybags, it had to be exclusive and high class all the way.

  After I left his office earlier, I sat down at my desk and quickly found the envelope in my top drawer. I wasn’t surprised to see money in it, but I thought the amount was a bit exorbitant. Fine. If I was forced to go, I’d spend it all and maybe even buy a little something for myself.

  “Try this one on, girl!" Jules, my long-time friend from college had accompanied me--she enjoyed spending other people's money and she’d be a great distraction. Where I was shy and quiet, she was boisterous and the life of the party.

  I let a sigh escape me as I picked up a heavy parka with an attractive faux fur hood on it. I fingered the tag and didn’t flinch when I saw the $950 price. Canada goose down seemed legit. I’d never had use for anything remotely that warm. Living in Southern California didn’t warrant anything more than a light jacket on its coldest day. I hated being cold and was loathing this trip for more than one reason.

  I shrugged it on and had to admit it felt like a comforting blanket. A chic one at that. “Should I get the black one of the olive one?" I asked while double checking the fit in the mirror.

  “Fuck-get them both. He gave you a small fortune to spend…” she reminded me. She had moved to the accessories and was practically drooling over some pashminas.

  “Be practical, Jules. I don’t need two thousand dollars worth of outerwear. Do I?” No, I did not.

  “Well, no. But get the olive one. The black matches your mood and you need some color in your life. I still can’t believe you’re going,” she said casually. “He’s such a prick.” She said this last part a little too loud and garnered a few looks from other shoppers.

  “Shh,” I scolded her. “I don’t need the whole store judging us.” A slight burn had heated my cheeks as I averted my eyes from the onlookers.

  “Two fucks. That’s how many I give right now.” She winked at me and then wiggled her brows in a what are they gonna do about it attitude. I knew she didn’t care what people thought and her carefree attitude brought a crack of a smile to my face.

  Next on the list were sweaters. Turtleneck cashmere seemed like the right answer. At least I’d be cozy. Jules had found them and was in the process of piling an array of colors in my arms.

  “Slow down,” I huffed. “You can grab some of these too, ya know.”

  “No way-I’m on a roll. Baby blue, emerald, saffron, eggplant, heather…mmmmkay. Go grab a fitting room, I’m right behind you,” she ordered and gave me a small pat on my butt.

  I rolled my eyes at her physicality, but knew she was playing and trying to lighten the mood. She and I had shared a dorm together at USC and I was used to her ‘love taps’ and other such endearments.

  The dressing room attendant led me into the room where I unloaded the pile along with some leggings Jules had thrown in along the way. The fitting room was plush, large enough for a mini fashion show and featured a tufted chaise in one corner. That’s where Jules camped out while I proceeded to try on all the pieces.

  I took my blouse off and heard her whistle under her breath. “Please tell me new bras are next on the agenda, chick.”

  I looked down at my black bra. “And what’s wrong with my bra?” They weren’t cheap and I had one in black, grey, nude and white. They were perfect for the silk blouses I was used to wearing.

  “Nothing, unless you’re into vanilla.” She shrugged her shoulders while disgustingly picking at something in between her tooth. “Lemme guess: you own that particular bra in all the most basic, boring colors? Don’t deny it-your face says yes. Jesus, when was the last time you got laid? Like, never. So, we’re going when we’re done here.” She nodded her head in finality and she reminded me of Mary Poppins with her gesture.

  “Don’t bring up my sex life,” I whispered. “You know it’s been forever, so stop rubbing salt in the wound.” The last part came out a little more tartly than I meant, but she dismissed it with a flick of her wrist.

  “Then get some ass already. It’s like you’re holding out for the perfect dude who doesn’t exist. Let loose and have some fun.”

  It wasn’t that I was holding out, I just hadn’t found anyone who made sparks fly. Black and white bras, boring slacks and blouses, no sex life, God, my life was boring.

  Bra shopping with her would be exhausting and lovingly argumentative. I knew what she’d make me end up buying-a whole bunch of bright colors, impractical fabrics and I’d end up with a whole new wardrobe of lingerie that would fit in better if I were a dancer at the Tropicana. But she was right. Maybe I needed more color in my mundane life.

  At least she didn’t admonish my black lace thong when I stripped to try the leggings on. I had one thing going for me at least. Amanda one, Jules ninety-seven.

  A couple pairs of extreme weather boots, leggings, thermals, mittens and beanies and I was good to go. Oh, and the trapper hat. I’d look ridiculous, but it was lined in fur and would cover my ears from the biting cold I wa
s expecting. Plus, it was Alaska, right? Didn’t people wear those kinds of things all the time up there?

  “Move your ass, sweet cheeks,” she said grabbing a few on the shopping bags. “You owe me lunch for my fashion advice.”

  *****

  After successfully spending the rest of the clothing allowance on five sets of matching bras and panties, a ridiculous garter belt with thigh highs and a luxurious robe and nightgown, we were finally seated for lunch.

  I ordered my usual seltzer water and lime while Jules ordered a Prosecco.

  “Don’t give me Judge Judy eyes-it’s five o’clock somewhere,” she jested while raising her glass in a mock toast.

  “I’m not judging you, Jules.” I’m just jealous of your ability to be so carefree. I used to be that way, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.