Taking Control Read online

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  A Note To The Reader

  About the Author

  Also by Danielle Dickson

  Taking Control

  Danielle Dickson

  ADVANCED READER COPY

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  A Note To The Reader

  About the Author

  Also by Danielle Dickson

  Taking Control

  By

  Danielle Dickson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be a property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Taking Control

  Copyright © 2018 Danielle Dickson

  All rights reserved

  Cover art by Danielle Dickson of Vixen Designs

  Formatting by Abigail Davies of Pink Elephant Designs

  Proofreading by Judy’s Proofreading

  To the ones constantly teetering on the balance of chaos and control; you’re not alone.

  Acknowledgments

  Firstly to my alpha and beta readers; Abi, Angela, Liza, Paige, Katie, Sam, and Yvonne. Thank you for being brutally honest with me, Zander’s story wouldn’t be what it is if it wasn’t for you awesome lot. I love you all more than I love pink iced doughnuts and slippers (and that’s saying something).

  Abi, again, your help is second to none. You’ve supported me from day one and never doubted that I’d be able to break out into a slightly steamier side of myself. You’re always there when I need to tell you my crazy ideas and you don’t judge me when I have one of my self-doubt moments! I truly don’t think I could ever find a better friend.

  To all the bloggers that have helped with the cover reveal, release, blog tour and reviewed, you’re SO appreciated it’s unreal. Without you and our readers, us indie authors would be nowhere. Thank you for all that you do.

  To my family, friends, and readers that have picked up any one of my books, I love you wholeheartedly. Your support is second to none and it’s meant the world to have you all by my side, cheering me on. But if you are my family, I advise you to put this book down now. No seriously. Step away from the book ;)

  1

  Taylor

  “Taylor?”

  I send the caterer to set up with her crew in the kitchen before swirling around to face my balding douche of a boss. “Yes, sir?”

  His gaze unashamedly scrolls down my body, his lip curling up at the corner before he looks around the expansive area of the venue I chose for tonight.

  “Not bad, I suppose,” he comments, his focus returning to me.

  I fold my arms across my chest, clutching the clipboard I’m holding so I don’t “accidentally” Frisbee it into his face.

  Forcing a fake smile, I say, “Thank you, everything has gone surprisingly well.”

  He nods and pulls the clipboard out of my hands, checking it over. “Seems like you’ve got this all under control… for now. I’m impressed.” He looks at me, making me squirm under his intense stare. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

  I take the clipboard he offers me, barely holding in a gag as he winks before strolling away. Did I mention he’s a creepy asshole? I know what he actually wanted to say was, “Don’t let the guests see you looking like that.”

  Rolling my eyes, I turn around and walk toward the room I’ve been using to keep all of my things in, my six-year-old Converse squeaking on the freshly polished floors. I’ve been running around all day so there’s no way I was going to wear my usual blouse, pencil skirt, and heels. He should be more than grateful I’m even here doing this. I’ve worked my ass off for the last four weeks planning this New Year’s party instead of attending the winter ski trip my friends and I go on annually.

  Do you know how hard it is to find everything you need for a party at this time of year on such short notice? But I pulled it out of the bag with little to no thanks from A-hole boss.

  I thought I’d be much further in my career by now, but here I am three years later, still a PA to the most obnoxious man on the planet.

  “Aaah!” I don’t notice the man in front of me until we’ve collided and I’m careening toward the floor.

  I throw my arms out but his hands snake around my waist stopping my fall. “Do you always stare into space when you’re walking?”

  His voice is like silk draped over freshly shaven legs, caressing you until you have no choice but to wrap yourself in it because it feels so good.

  I’m placed back into a standing position and it gives me a chance to look at my savior, brushing my hair out of my face before my eyes widen to epic proportions.

  Holy Christ on a bicycle, who is this guy?

  His eyes are the shade of dark chocolate, shining beneath a midnight-black mask covering the top half of his face signaling he’s here for the masquerade ball tonight.

  As my gaze moves up to his roughly styled, equally dark hair, he clears his throat, a smirk kicking up the corner of his lips. “I guess staring is your thing.”

  I should be embarrassed he caught me blatantly gawking at him, but I’m not. “Only when something is worth looking twice at,” I state confidently, watching his smirk flatten as his features turn into a questioning expression, his gaze scanning my face. “Sorry for running into you and running off, but I have to go.”

  He slots his hands into the pockets of his slacks, staying silent as he turns to watch me walk away. My lips pull up at the corners as I feel his gaze on my ass.

  Spinning around as I reach the room I’ve been keeping my belongings in all day, I raise my brow. “I guess we have something in common, huh? Thanks for breaking my fall.”

  I don’t wait for a reply, walking into the room and closing the door behind me with a giant lady boner I need to forget all about because I have a job to do.

  Walking over to the sofa in the middle of the room, I take the headset I’m wearing off and open the makeup bag I left there.

  My cell rings while I’m blending out my eyeshadow, so I put it on speaker and place it on the table in front of me.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you getting ready?” my best friend, D, asks—her real name is Damia, but she hates it and insists everyone calls her D.

  “Party face is going on as we speak.” I finish blending my eyeshadow before lining my eyelids with black liner, finishing with a small flick at the corners. “I wish you were coming.”

  She sighs. “I wish you were here more like. The
men here are ridonculous, Tay.”

  I snort. “Ridonculous? Another one of your made-up words, I assume?”

  “Yeah, because...” She pauses. “They’re gorgeous! Ergh, you should’ve seen this one I met in the bar last night. He looked like he’d be able to toss me about in the bedroom.”

  “D!”

  “What? It’s true. He had dark brooding eyes just begging me to bend over for him.”

  I snort out a laugh and nearly mess up my mascara. “So, you’re having fun?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  A pang of jealousy flows through me, but it’s gone as soon as it comes as I concentrate on adding a tiny bit of blush to the apples of my cheeks. “Make the most of it, you’re home with me tomorrow.”

  “I love you, Tay, but I want to live here in the land of hot men.” I chuckle and she sighs. “Anyway, pipe dreams aside, you better try and enjoy yourself tonight.” At my silence she adds, “You’re still wearing that dress, aren’t you?” My gaze roams over to the lacy black dress hanging on the back of the door. It’s an off-the-shoulder number that plunges between my breasts before accentuating my waist and skirting out. It’s asymmetric so the front is shorter than the back and I’m wondering why in the hell I didn’t bring an alternate dress. “Don’t tell me you’ve backed out.”

  “No, just starting to wish I brought a second option.”

  She tuts. “You’re going to look so hot. I want lots of photos.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I catch the time on the clock out of the corner of my eye and curse under my breath. “I have to go. I need to finish off my makeup and put that ridonculous dress on.”

  She chuckles. “See, my new word’s catching on already.”

  “Hi, Tay!” I hear in the background.

  “Tell Davey I said hi, but I’ve really got to go,” I reply, rummaging through my makeup bag for my lipstick.

  “Miss your face, it’s not the same without you here.”

  “Miss you, too.”

  We hang up and I slick on my lipstick, blowing out a breath as I look in the mirror at the changed woman in front of me. My chocolate-brown eyes pop with the black of the eyeliner and my blood-red lips look plump. I pre-curled my hair this morning so now it’s dropped and has a wave to the long, brown layers.

  I double-check the door is locked before pulling off my t-shirt and ripped jeans, adorning myself with a black lacy bra and underwear set D bought me for Christmas a few days ago. Next: the dress.

  When Davey—one of my other best friends who happens to be a fashion guru—insisted I tried it on when we walked past the store window, I protested. I don’t wear dresses like this, but this is a special occasion. How many times do I get to go to a masquerade ball?

  I zip the back of the dress up and slide my feet into a pair of black heels, finishing off the look with a black lacy mask to match my dress and a quick spritz of perfume in all the important places. Grabbing my cell, I place my money, lipstick, and keys into a tiny rectangle—otherwise known as a clutch bag—us women are supposed to carry our stuff around in with us all night. Placing the headset I was wearing earlier on my head, I pick up my clipboard and lock up the room.

  Making my way to the front of the venue, my headset chimes so I press the button on the side. “You have Taylor.”

  “Where are you?”

  Hello to you too, Mr. A-hole!

  I put on my most pleasant voice, trying not to sneer at him. “On my way toward the lobby, sir.” I spot him with his back to me, standing next to the reception desk as I round the corner. “I’m right behind you.”

  He turns around, craning his neck to see behind me. “Where? I need you here now, the guests are about to arrive.”

  I click my headset off as I reach him, his black tuxedo looking like it’s about to pop open from too much food over Christmas. “Here.”

  He looks at me, taking in my dress with greedy eyes before putting on a dazzling smile. “The party hasn’t started yet. How did you get in here, beautiful?” I’m point two of a second away from saying, “Are you high?” before he narrows his eyes in recognition. “Taylor?” I nod in confirmation. “I didn’t recognize you.”

  So close to rolling my eyes, I smile instead, ignoring his comment. “You said you needed me?”

  He lifts the silver mask he’s wearing, letting it rest on his forehead. “The guests are about to arrive and you weren’t here.”

  Now he needs me to babysit him greeting the guests?

  The muscles I’m using to plaster on a fake smile start to ache and I cover it up by looking over at the staff that have started to gather by the front doors. The smile turns more genuine as I say, “Alright, everyone. It’s showtime.”

  2

  Taylor

  After another boring “look at me, look at what I organized” speech from Mr. A-hole himself, I yawn as I look down at my watch, shaking out my feet. These heels are causing them to swell from standing up so long and all the walking I’ve been doing to greet all the clients isn’t helping. I’ve been working the room for hours, only having a reprieve to eat my dinner.

  As I look up from my watch, my gaze meets the familiar eyes of the man who saved me from falling flat on my ass earlier in the hallway. I’ve aptly named him Dark and Broody since that’s the vibe he gives off.

  He doesn’t look away, his gaze intense and focused on me as he brings a glass of clear liquid to his lips and takes a sip. His head tilts as if he’s trying to work out what I’m thinking, and it drives me crazy.

  A colleague from work steps in front of me, breaking my connection with Dark and Broody. “Taylor! I’ve been trying to catch you all night; I’m so bored.”

  “Hey, Steph, I didn’t think you were coming,” I state, looking around her blond mane and seeing the stranger gone from where he was leaning against the bar. Damn.

  “I wasn’t going to but you know how persuasive the boss can be.”

  I laugh and turn my attention toward her. “How is he still controlling our lives over the holidays?”

  “Tell me about it! And is he seriously taking all the credit for this party?”

  I shrug. “Doesn’t bother me, the quicker I can get out of here the be—”

  “Taylor?” Steph immediately purses her lips and I bristle at the voice coming from behind me. Is it not enough that he’s been in my ear all night?

  I turn around. “Sir, what can I do for you?”

  He smirks and looks toward Steph. “Having a good time, Susan?”

  “It’s Stephanie,” she states, and I know she’s annoyed by the tone of her voice. She’s worked for the company longer than I have so he should know her name.

  He dismisses her correction with a flick of his wrist, moving his focus back to me. “Be a peach and get me a drink.”

  My head reels back as I barely have time to catch the empty glass he shoves into my chest. “I was about to go and have a talk with Mr. Jonas, but I can show you to the bar on my way there, sir.”’

  I point over to the other side of the room, my jaw twitching with restraint because what I really want to say is, “Fuck off, you arrogant dickwad.”

  I don’t wait for him to reply as I turn and walk away from a situation that was bound to get me in more trouble than my job’s worth if he demanded I get him a drink.

  I reach the dance floor and pull in a much needed breath to try and calm myself down.

  “What was that?” Steph asks from behind me.

  I shake my head. “I’m not being his slave tonight, I have more important things to do.”

  The band starts playing a rendition of Mr. Brightside by The Killers and I move my body to the music despite what I told my boss. I just need a minute to breathe.

  Steph starts bopping around too but just as I’m starting to relax and get into the song, her eyes widen at something behind me. “Apparently he didn’t get the memo.”

  A hand grasps onto my waist before liquor-ridden breath fans across my neck. “That was rude in front
of my guests, Taylor.” I roll my eyes and ignore him, dancing with Steph who has started to look uncomfortable at the situation. “Do you value your job, Miss Moore?” he grinds out.

  I can’t hold my tongue; I turn on the spot with more confidence than I feel, looking directly into his dark-gray eyes. “I do, very much so. I was busy working the room like you asked me to though.”

  “I’m going to…” Steph points behind her mouthing, “Sorry,” as she turns and walks toward the bar, leaving me alone with him.

  His face flushes red. “You didn’t look like you were busy to me.”

  My hands clench at my sides as I decide to swallow my pride in an attempt to save my job. “Sir, I apologize for my outburst, but I really have—”

  “It’s okay, I like when you speak your mind,” he slurs, taking a step toward me so our chests are nearly touching.

  I start to turn away, scoffing, that is until I’m stopped in my tracks when he grips my upper arm. “I’m not finished talking to you.”

  Looking down at his hand and back at his face, I raise a brow. “Let go of my arm.”

  An insufferable cocky smirk I’m used to seeing from him pulls at his lips. “Just—”

  “She said let go,” a deep voice deadpans.

  I turn toward another body, immediately taken aback by the menacing look on the man’s face from earlier directed at my boss.

  Mr. A-hole lets go of my arm and straightens up to his full height—I’m guessing to try and intimidate this guy—but when Dark and Broody doesn’t back down, standing there like he has all the time in the world to have a staring contest, my boss looks between us and takes a step back, adjusting the sleeves of his tux.