Silver Lining, page 1
A BLURRED-LINES stand-alone
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Aleatha Romig
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author
COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION
SILVER LINING
A Blurred-Lines stand-alone
Copyright @ 2022 Romig Works, LLC
Published by Romig Works, LLC
2022 Edition
ISBN: 978-1-956414-30-1
Cover art: Emily Witting DesignsEditing: Lisa Aurello
Formatting: Romig Works, LLC
Proofreader: Stacy Zitano Inman
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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2022 Edition License
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This ebook may not be resold 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 the appropriate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
“Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” ~ Rumi
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Lena Montgomery’s time and energy is spent making her dreams of wealth and power a reality, no matter who she leaves in her wake. She’s taken risks, climbed the ladder, and doesn’t intend to take a step back. Her hard line is involving herself with employees, and the last thing on her mind is blurring the lines with a man twelve years her junior.
As danger nears, it’s not her mind that wants to break her own rule; it’s her body.
What happens when the lines are blurred?
Are you ready for Lena’s story?
Hold on tight.
Have you been Aleatha’d?
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From New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig comes a brand-new age-gap, forbidden romance, contemporary romantic-suspense novel in the world of high finance, where rules become blurred.
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*SILVER LINING is a full-length, stand-alone novel.
Acknowledgments
I would like to give a huge shout-out to my daughter-in-law. This entire concept came from her urging me to try a reverse age-gap. Not only that, as a thirty-something-year-old, she was instrumental in my knowledge of CJ, our thirty-one-year-old hero. This book is for you, Joann, and our number-one son who brought you into our lives!
Chapter One
Lena
Present time
The head of my security, Adam, gave me a nod as I touched the keycard to the sensor and a green light appeared. My bracelets jingled as I turned the knob, opening the door. Cool air met us as Adam stepped in front of me. The routine was part of our lives. My life. My temples pounded as he made a complete trek through the multiroom suite. After another nod and good night, Adam stepped out of the suite.
The door closed, the lock clicking. After securing the small chain, I closed my eyes, leaned against the solid barrier, and inhaled. The scent of eucalyptus filled my senses, replacing the aroma of the perfume I’d applied nearly ten hours ago.
Eucalyptus soothed me.
My therapist recommended a constant, something that made me feel secure even when I was away. The oil was my travel companion.
Kicking off my shoes, I sighed at the comfort from the lack of high heels and wiggled my toes against the cool gray tile. Step by step, I made my way through the eerily silent suite.
In the large living room area, the only illumination came from the city lights beyond the large panes. The pristine white furniture differed little from the white walls and long light-gray drapes.
The lights of New York City glistened with all the energy of the city itself. From this height in an upscale hotel, it was easy to forget the stench from piles of garbage accumulating on the sidewalk in the summer heat. Experience told me that the trash would be gone in the morning, only to return with the setting sun.
Removing my phone from my purse, I looked at the slew of emails. Opening one from my associate, I shook my head. The email was from Jeremy Wilde, my most trusted associate, letting me know the previous owners of Architech had contacted him again, asking about our decision on which employees would be retained from our recent acquisition. None, I wanted to reply. Two hundred and twenty million should silence them. Besides, I didn’t have time to go through all the bios that my staff had compiled.
“You’re hangry,” I said to myself before I replied with a text message.
“Busy day today. Architech is a f’n gold mine. Can’t you decide which ones to keep?”
He texted immediately back.
“Are you okay? Good day then? And no. I got the deal. I met employees. You will choose without bias.”
His argument made sense. I could look at the bios objectively. Ignoring his first question, I replied.
I’ll have a list of names by the time I’m back to Missoula tomorrow.”
* * *
“As far as the day...if we’re talking zeros, I have a good feeling.” Before I hit send, I added, “Tell the guys from Architech to go enjoy their windfall and stop pushing about the employees.”
“We promised,” Jeremy texted back.
“Your name should be Jiminy. It’s like you’re my conscience.”
“Someone has to be.”
Tossing my phone on the table and entering the small kitchen, I turned on the lights and found my dinner, the one I’d ordered this morning. The one that arrived three hours ago and sat unsupervised. A quick lift of the silver dome revealed the solidified Alfredo sauce covering the rubbery chicken and cold fettuccine noodles.
There was always the microwave.
As I lifted the plate, the gelled sauce jiggled, reminding me of Jell-O.
I wasn’t a fan of Jell-O or of cold pasta.
With a shake of my head, I replaced the lid and went to the minibar disguised behind the sleek façade of a cabinet. After removing two small bottles of Johnny Walker Red, I made my way to the bathroom. The bright light fixtures over the vanity filled the space with stark illumination. For only a moment, I looked at my reflection.
Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin.
During today’s marathon meeting with representatives of a well-known art gallery, I was the Lena Montgomery, the one whom others read about. The gallery wanted what Jeremy had secured nearly a month ago—the technology perfected by Architech, now owned by Venus, a subsidiary of Montgomery Holdings, which applied the concept of virtual environments.
Thinking about Architech reminded me to make a list.
Pulling names from a hat was objective—right?
I first became a player in the financial world by investing in the vision of others. Architech was an incredible vision. Now that it was ours, we controlled who had access.
Today’s meeting was with a gallery interested in utilizing the technology.
Mr. and Mrs. Mueller, the gallery owners, were older yet open to the progressive endeavor of taking the gallery from within the confines of their brick-and-mortar building in the heart of their SoHo neighborhood to virtually anywhere and everywhere.
The people at the table with me today didn’t know that their gallery had been what piqued my interest in Architech. They had been in negotiations with Architech directly until Venus stepped in.
The price had gone up.
They were outbid.
Now I had the reins, and the gallery was courting me to license what was now mine.
Opening my eyes wide, I took in the light shade of brown in the reflection. Those eyes met every gaze in the room today. My questions as well as my answers were quick and as they say, on the money. Everyone in that room knew that I held the power to make their dream a reality. They also understood that I could walk away.
That precipice was where I wanted to leave them.
I could have returned to the hotel in time for my dinner to be warm, but I didn’t.
Taking a deep breath, I let the corners of my lips move upward and my cheeks lift.
At six o’clock, the gallery was a bit too cocky for my liking. I wasn’t ready to end the day on that note. When we said our final good nights at nearly nine o’clock, the ball was back in my court. Tomorrow, they’d be willing to pay what I proposed, or I’d leave. They weren’t the only interested partners.
Unscrewing the cap on the Johnny Walker, I lifted the bottle to my lips, leaving a red ring around the mouth of the bottle from what remained of my lipstick, and swallowed. The amber liquid burned as it coated my tongue and throat. Slamming the empty bottle on the vanity, I felt my smile grow as the sound echoed through the large suite.
I mentally made a list of things to do before tomorrow morning.
Emails.
Go over the gallery’s updated proposal.
Never could I have imagined this life as a young girl.
It was busy, productive, and better than what I’d dreamed.
My life could be filled with warm dinners and a house full of people. I’d had the model. My father, mother, sister, and I had the picturesque home in suburban Chicago. Being the older daughter, I imagined going to college and settling down near my family. Marriage was an assumption. Of the tw
As her older sister, I had been told since she was brought home from the hospital that she was my responsibility.
That reality hit home when our parents were killed in an automobile accident. At a little older than twenty, my life changed in ways I never imagined—both of our lives did. My plans for a normal, quiet life slipped through my fingers. Our new reality took Madison and me on a bumpy ride.
I’d like to say we both were better for it, but that wouldn’t be true.
My sister moved to Texas after I lost everything that was supposed to keep us stable. That wasn’t completely accurate. I trusted the wrong person, a person who stole our inheritance and tried to take my dignity too.
My gaze narrowed as I studied my own face—my cheekbones, my nose, my lips. When a person hit bottom, they had a choice. Over twenty years ago, I pulled myself off the floor and made the decision that my dignity wasn’t up for sale. I would succeed in life, and I would do so with no regrets.
I wasn’t a dreamer. I was a doer.
The truth was that when I first began this quest, I was miserably ill-prepared to take on the financial giants who I now call by their first names. Thankfully, I was and am a fast learner. I surrounded myself with like-minded people. Those of us who made a name for ourselves—by ourselves—were a rare breed. We weren’t raised with a silver spoon or surrounded by the glitz and glamor of mansions or even the executive suite at The Langham on Fifth Avenue.
No, we hide the metaphoric dirt of our past with expensive manicures and the bruises with designer-named apparel. That didn’t mean that we didn’t remember when those same fingers were bloodied, nails broken, and bruises visible.
We remembered because if we forgot about our climb and our clawing our way to the top, we could become comfortable.
Comfort was a luxury.
Comfort would be living on investments and forgoing the marathon negotiations.
Comfort was earned.
My attention went to the inviting large clawfoot tub. The emails could wait. I’d earned a bath.
Chapter Two
Lena
The tub’s porcelain was smooth and cool beneath my touch. Turning on the glistening faucet, I waited until the water reached the warmth I wanted and added eucalyptus oil to the swirling water. As I poured the second bottle of Johnny into a crystal tumbler, I found my cellphone and made a call to the man in the suite across the hallway.
“Ms. Montgomery,” Adam answered on the second ring.
“Adam, I’m sure you’re settled in and for that, I’m sorry.”
“Not settled. What can I do for you?”
“My dinner is cold. I know I said we were done for the night, but if all I have for dinner is what I can find in the minibar, my head will be throbbing during tomorrow’s eight a.m. meeting.”
Adam scoffed.
I imagined his smile, the way it quirked up on one side and the light blue of his eyes.
There was nothing remotely sexual between Adam and me. He was an employee—mine. He worked for me and had for over seven years. I trusted him with my life.
It was my heart that I kept locked away—from everyone.
That childhood assumption of marriage disappeared the night I was beaten black and blue because stealing my sister’s and my inheritance wasn’t enough for that man. That night, I was prepared to end Logan Butler’s life. Thankfully, a friend, Donovan Sherman, came to my aid, convincing me that there was better revenge than any that would result in incarceration.
That was when I swore off the idea of a home with a white picket fence.
Over my forty-three years, I’d had my share of one-night stands, longer relationships, and friends with benefits. I’d found and given pleasure in the company of both men and women, rarely at the same time, but I couldn’t say never.
My mind went to CJ, the man I’d recently met, reminding me of our one week in paradise. Two ships passing in the night—as the story goes. Yet during our one week, I felt the walls I’d built around my heart, those I thought to be indestructible, begin to crack. We agreed to walk away with no regrets.
I could rebuild.
“Ms. Montgomery.”
Shaking my head, my thoughts returned to Adam. Yes, my bodyguard was attractive, but sleeping with an employee was my hard line—forbidden by my own rule. It was difficult enough to be taken seriously in this world as a woman. I refused to be a notch on someone’s belt, someone who worked for me.
Adam spoke again, “I’d be happy to get you something to eat. I saw that the shop on the first floor had salads. If I hurry, they should still be open.”
The energy from today’s meeting and the whiskey coursing through my veins combined to rekindle a memory of a late night next to a small private pool. The sky above was peppered with stars, and the warm air grew sultrier by the minute. CJ’s turquoise stare was set on mine as he fed me from the box he’d procured.
With a grin, I said, “Pizza. Thin crust, big slice—the kind you have to fold. New York pizza.”
“Shouldn’t you be a Chicago pizza woman?”
I dusted the dirt from Chicago off me a long time ago—the city where my parents died, where I last recalled my sister happy, and where I hit bottom. It was also the city where I began my climb.
“I think you know me better than that,” I said. “I prefer almost anywhere to Chicago.”
“Pizza it is.”
“Thank you, Adam. I’m going to take a bath. Please leave the food in the kitchen, soggy container and all. Oh, and extra napkins.”
“Did you lock the chain lock?”
My gaze fluttered toward the hallway and to the door beyond my suite. “I’ll undo the chain.” Before he could answer, I added, “And you have a key.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I have a camera set and an alarm if your door opens. I can see all that information from my phone. Hotel security is also working with me.”
“Thank you. I know you have everything covered.” As I disconnected the call, a shiver ran through me, leaving a trail of goose bumps. Adam was the only security detail I’d brought along on this current trip. I could have brought more or hired more in the city. I also had female members of my security who could stay in the suite with me. One, Kelsey, was currently staying in my home. This was a short trip, and I preferred my privacy.
Up until this moment, I hadn’t given the one-man team much thought. My mind had been consumed with computer graphics and virtual environments, and the potential that they held.
Brushing off the uneasy feeling, I walked down the tiled hallway, unlocked the chain, and peered through the peephole. Within the distorted view I saw the back of Adam’s head and his broad shoulders. The suit coat he’d worn all day was gone. When he turned, I noticed his tie too was gone and his collar opened. After securing the door to his suite, my bodyguard disappeared in search of delicious, greasy pizza.
“Stop being paranoid,” I told myself as the scent of eucalyptus reminded me of my filling clawfoot tub. Closing the blinds to the city forty stories below, I turned on every light in the suite.
It wasn’t paranoia if someone was actually out to get you.
Once back in the bathroom, with humidity hanging in the air and coating the large mirrors, I peeled off my blouse and skirt, tossing them onto the floor along with my panties and bra. The water rose as I stepped into the water. My skin quickly pinkened at the warmth. The ends of my auburn hair dampened as I laid my head back against the raised end of the tub. With the oil coating my skin, I inhaled the soothing aroma as the water’s warmth and a drink from my tumbler chased away the earlier chill.
It wasn’t unusual for a person with my wealth and high-profile life to employ security. While I kicked ass in the world of finance, my self-defense skills were limited. I’d been coached and had practiced over the years. In a gym with an instructor, I knew what to do. Nevertheless, I was a five-foot, six-inch woman weighing a hundred and thirty pounds—according to my driver’s license. Reality was an extra ten pounds.
