Undone: Forbidden Fantasies #2 Read online

  Undone

  Forbidden Fantasies #2

  Anne Mercier

  Contents

  Undone - Forbidden Fantasies #2

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  PLAYLIST

  Also By Anne Mercier

  About Anne

  Undone - Forbidden Fantasies #2

  Promotional assistant wanted.

  Must be willing to work late hours.

  Tasks include anything I demand.

  Wyzard Promotional Services.

  Zachary Ward.

  Powerful.

  Successful.

  Deliciously handsome.

  Unattainable.

  If I secure the position, I wonder if he’ll remember me. It was only one night so, probably not. But I certainly remember him.

  I’ve been looking for her. A series of mishaps brings her back into my life and I intend to keep her there. This time I’m not letting her go.

  Undone is a 13K word short story, book 2 in the Forbidden Fantasies short story series.

  Copyright

  Undone

  Forbidden Fantasies #2

  Copyright ©2018 Anne Mercier

  ISBN: 9780998440293

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover Image: Sara Eirew at Sara Eirew Photography.

  Cover Design: Anne Mercier.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book 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 are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.

  PERSONAL NOTE: The only pirate I like is Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow, which means I'd appreciate if you'd keep my books to yourself. Pirating shows a clear lack of respect for the author—me. I'd rather not meet you on bad terms, so let's not do that, let's not meet that way. Let's meet at a signing or conference instead, or let's go have a cup of coffee or a drink. Thank you for respecting the time and effort put into each book. I appreciate it very much.

  Dedication

  To those who got their second chance.

  Savor it. It only happens once.

  Chapter One

  The socks

  I need a new job in the worst way. Three days ago I walked into my apartment and saw my now-ex-boyfriend fucking my now-ex-best friend (who was also my boss) in my bed. That certainly derailed any plans I had for advancement there.

  And my now-ex? I kicked him out on his ass in nothing but his boxers and socks. In winter. In New York City. He had the nerve to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. There is no forgiving that. As I shoved him into the elevator, I told him to go beg on the corner for some clothes or his small dick might get frostbite on his way home. By the way, I kept his wallet too. No clothes. No money. No ID. He’s likely in jail.

  You may be wondering about the socks. I still wonder about them. Dillion wore socks to bed. He wore them when we had sex. He wore them everywhere except in the shower. I never saw him swimming so for all I know he could wear them there too.

  Freak.

  I should have known when he insisted on drinking a Coke with no ice. Who does that? No ice? Are you kidding me? Piss warm soda? No thanks. Nothing tastes better than an ice-cold Coke. And besides, he was a premature ejaculator. I only came about ten percent of the time. On nights he didn’t come over, I used my handy vibrator and came so hard my toes curled.

  Settling. I’ve been settling. We were only together for four months, and within the first two he had more of his shit here than at his own place. If I didn’t live in the city said shit would be lit on fire on the front lawn.

  I dragged that nasty mattress down three flights of stairs in my heels and left it on the curb. By the time I’d changed my clothes, it was gone. Some people just don’t care. I’m not one of them.

  And my ex-bff and boss? It was all my fault. She convinced her partner and co-owner of Desert Promotions of that, likely by sucking his dick. The whore. Anyone who knows her knows she fucked her way into her current job. I didn’t respect her in that regard, but damn it all I thought she had my back. She sure did. She plunged a great big knife into it.

  Bitch.

  There are only three things making this better right now: One – Caramel Praline ice cream; two – watching Keanu Reeves as John Wick hunting someone down for stealing his car and killing his puppy; and three – I know karma’s a bitch and she’s going to screw those two hard and up the ass without lube.

  I’m sipping from my diet Coke when I see it.

  Promotional assistant wanted.

  Must be willing to work late hours.

  Tasks include anything I demand.

  Wyzard Promotional Services.

  Zachary Ward.

  Tall, dark, and delicious.

  I wonder what he’d demand of me if I was to secure the position—oh, and what position would he want me in when he demanded.

  My mouth goes dry at the thought. Him bending me over his desk. Me on my knees beneath his desk while he has a meeting, not knowing I’m there. Oh, the depravity of it all. My mind is a dirty, dirty place, but so is Zach Ward.

  Oh yes, I want this job.

  I grab my laptop and apply.

  Chapter Two

  all the possibilities

  Talia Forrest. Age 32. Married. Can’t work weekends—discard.

  Sonya Cross. Age 19. Single. Way too young—discard.

  Edna Jones. Age 62. Widowed. That won’t work at all. She’ll retire soon. Discard.

  Jessica Livingston. Age 24. Single. Willing to work weekends and late evenings.

  Finally, a promising prospect. I pick up the phone.

  “Human Resources, this is Jean.”

  I lean back in my chair and hold up the paper. “I found a possibility for my assistant position.”

  “That’s excellent, Mr. Ward. Who did you choose?”

  “Jessica Livingston.” I wonder if it’s her.

  “I’ll call her in for an interview,” Jean informs me.

  “No. Skip the formality. Just hire her. If she doesn’t work out, I’ll just fire her.”

  “Mr. Ward— “

  “Jean. Just do it.”

  “Yes, sir. When would you like her to start?”

  “As soon as possible. I’d rather not have to have Dina doing Cameron’s work and mine in addition to that.” Poor woman. Even as efficient as she is, she’s clearly being overworked. Besides, I want someone here to be my own personal assistant. Someone I can demand to do anything. I wonder if Jessica Livingston would have issue with me fucking her right there on the sofa with anyone able to hear her cries of ecstasy.

  Just the thought of it has me hard and I don’t even know if she’s the
one. The photo was only a headshot and clearly outdated. Yet, if that’s anything to go by, we won’t have any trouble at all.

  I’m hard as a rock imagining all the possibilities.

  Sofa.

  Desk.

  Chair.

  Table.

  Floor.

  Wall.

  I’m considering rubbing one out to relieve myself, but I don’t.

  I’ll wait for Miss Livingston.

  Chapter Three

  the two-pump chump with a small penis

  I walk in to Forbidden Fantasies, my sister Zarah and her husband Mitch’s company, where they help bring couples’ fantasies to life. What they’ve got here is a gold mine. They’re booked solid for months.

  Zarah looks up and her smile lights up the room. My sister is beautiful with her long blonde hair and pretty face. She holds up a finger to signal she needs a minute, so I lazily walk around the room, looking at the photos they have sitting around.

  My sister got lucky. She met Mitch in the eleventh grade and they’ve been together ever since. That’s not to say it’s easy. I know for a fact it’s not. They argue and get angry with one another, but they also love one another completely. I can’t imagine anything ripping them apart. Not even their surprise pregnancy six months ago. The lucky ones.

  When she hangs up, she immediately moves to stand, and I just wave her back down.

  “No need to get up on my account. I’m sure you get plenty of that all day long,” I deduce.

  She sighs. “Way too much. I’m only six months and my ankles are swollen… I think I’ll be calling them cankles before long.”

  “You have a reason for that. A really wonderful one at that,” I remind her.

  “I know. Some days it just sucks.”

  “Speaking of sucks—”

  “—uh oh.”

  I nod. “Yeah. You can cancel the fantasy for me and Dillion.”

  “What happened?” Her tone lets me know she’s not surprised and honestly, I’m not either.

  I explain it to her and her eyes get wide, her jaw drops, then she’s fuming mad. “Your bed?”

  “Technically not mine anymore.”

  “Did you get a new one?”

  “Nope. I need to save, now that I don’t have a job and all,” I reply bitterly.

  “That bitch.”

  “Who’s a bitch?” Mitch asks as he walks in the door.

  “Darla. Jess went home from work early yesterday and found them doing it in her bed,” Zarah relays.

  “What the fuck? He couldn’t even take her to his place? Or hers? They’re both closer,” he questions.

  I shrug. “I dunno. Maybe they wanted to remind me what a sucker I am. An idiot. I mean, they were banging the entire time. How could I not know that?”

  “Probably because you didn’t think anyone would want a two-pump chump with a small penis,” Zarah answers.

  Mitch chuckles.

  “There is that.”

  “A better question would be,” Mitch begins rubbing Zarah’s shoulders, “why did you settle for that?”

  Now I deflate and slump into a chair.

  “Right? I’ve been asking myself that for weeks.”

  “You deserve better,” Mitch reminds me. “If you need a job…”

  “I might take you up on that, but I found a job listing that sounds interesting. If I don’t get it, I’ll be your office girl.”

  “It’d be fun to have you around,” Mitch tells me, then answers the phone.

  Zarah comes to sit next to me on the sofa, kicking off her heels as she does, then sliding the soles of her feet along the plush shag carpeting.

  “Tell me about this job,” she prods.

  I shrug. “It had specific job demands, but only a few. One of them was working late hours I don’t mind doing, but you know how I hate taking the train home in the dark.”

  Zarah snorts. “With your arsenal a mugger won’t stand a chance.”

  I think of my pepper spray, mace, sonic alarm, and my stun gun. I’d be packing my pistol, too, but I was advised against it. Employers are so touchy about someone bringing loaded weapons into their place of business. I’m no psycho. I’m just proactive.

  “You’re thinking about all your weapons, aren’t you? You’re just dying to zing someone with that stun gun.”

  I nod. “I admit it. It would be awesome to zap someone, taking them down—”

  “—and likely making them piss their pants in the process.”

  “A bonus. There’s nothing better than humiliating a bully or attacker.”

  “You’re evil,” Zarah laughs.

  “In some ways, yes. Why should I let some big oaf get the upper hand because he is bigger and stronger?”

  “I understand. I’ve always understood.”

  “Thanks for that. It means a lot that you don’t think I’m a psychopath.”

  “Aww, sister of mine, you’re not a full-blown psychopath. You’re just a junior psychopath,” she teases, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in for a side hug.

  “Just wait. You’re going to love the pics I take when I stun some fuckface in the subway,” I vow.

  “Oh, I know it. But just remember, we’re expanding so we could use the help if this job doesn’t work out. I know you’d rather do it on your own and I understand why, but this isn’t us making a position for you. We truly do need more staff,” Zarah assures me.

  “Especially with the baby coming.”

  “We’re setting up in that room over there so neither of us ever have to be away from him or her.”

  I pat her belly. “My niece and nephew are going to be so damn spoiled.”

  “Only in the best possible way.”

  “Of course. I’m going to head out. It looks like Mitch’s head’s going to explode,” I tease with a snicker.

  “Oh hell. It must be the Dubois couple again. Pains in our asses.”

  I hug Zarah and blow Mitch a kiss before heading to the store to figure out what to make for supper.

  Chapter Four

  the incident report

  I’m standing in the express lane—twelve items or less (I’ve got thirteen)—and scanning the tabloids. There’s so much speculation into the lives of the rich and famous. I’ve got to say, I wouldn’t mind being rich, but they can keep the famous. I’d likely tase someone and end up in jail.

  I move up the line, unloading my basket that’s been weighing down my arm, and I feel relief when that weight is gone. I decided to make tacos. I make a full taco dinner pack, but only heat up the shells I need. Then I have extra meat, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and sour cream for leftovers. I’m all about the leftovers. I’m a lazy cook. Heck, I’m lazy all around most of the time.

  My mom, rest her soul, used to love to cook. She’d cook even when she didn’t have to. She’d cook for some of the neighbors who needed help or for me. I will forever miss her pot roast. No matter how hard I try—and I really do try—I can’t get it to taste as delicious as hers did.

  “Your total is forty-seven fifty-three,” the cashier tells me.

  I take my bank card from my wallet and I’m just about to swipe it when my phone rings, startling me, resulting in my dropping the damn bank card.

  I look heavenward and sigh.

  Just as I’m about to bend down, the phone goes off again, scaring the shit out of me. Who turned it up that loud? Oh yeah, that was me. So I could hear in case… I glance at the phone and want to jump up and down when I see Wyzard Promotions on the screen. But that’s not what happens at all.

  “Hurry up, lady,” a guy behind me grumbles.

  I give the side-eye to everyone since I don’t know who the whiner is.

  This time I make it to where my head is level with the card-swiper thingie-when my phone goes off again. This time I jump out of nervousness. What if they move on to the next candidate if I don’t answer it?

  Shit.

  I grab my phone, then proceed to drop it. In my scur
ry to pick it up, I bang my head on the edge of the conveyor belt part of the checkout, but I get my phone! It’s in my hand when it stops ringing.

  “For the love of—”

  “Oh my gosh. You’re bleeding,” the cashier announces, loudly I might add.

  I reach up, touch my forehead, then look at my fingers. Yep. Sure enough.

  “Is it bad?”

  The same man starts whining again. This time I give him the finger and a good glare—whoever he is.

  “You’ll need to fill out an incident report,” the manager tells me as he makes his way over.

  “Fine, fine.” I lean down and pick up my bank card, all prepared to swipe this sucker, clean up my head, and fill out that report so I can call WP back, but just as I’m about to enter my pin number things start getting blurry around the edges and I’m starting to sweat.

  “Are the walls moving?” is the last thing I say before I, apparently, take another nose-dive, only this time nothing catches my head but the floor.

  Chapter Five

  the suitcase-purse

  I’m putting my phone into my jacket pocket about the same time as the pretty blonde ahead of me in line takes a header.