Ben, page 1
Ben
Will he get the woman he wants?
A sexy English man, vacation romance by Katie Dowe of BWWM Club.
Zuri Rihanna Rowland was a New Yorker through and through.
She had fought the odds of an alcoholic mother and a father who had disappeared when she was a baby and the thirty-year-old was now working at one of the most prestigious art galleries in New York.
What she did not have however was a man!
Yet when the very British Ben came into the gallery, he was the very last person she would ever dream of being with…
Billionaire heir Ben Henry Chamberlain had spent his life doing all the right things.
But when it comes to love, he decides that he wanted more than some bloodless English woman who was going to make his life miserable…
He wanted an American!
And now that he has met the woman of his dreams, he is determined to change Zuri’s opinion about him!
But previous relationships have made Zuri jaded about love…
Will Ben be able to thaw her frozen heart?
Or will she end up breaking his?
Find out in this emotional yet sexy romance by Katie Dowe of BWWM Club.
Suitable for over 18s only due to shockingly hot sex scenes!
Tip: Search BWWM Club on Amazon to see more of our great books.
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Contents
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
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Chapter 1
“Darling, you look wonderful!” Tristan gushed as she walked into the gallery that morning. “That’s new, is it not?” He gave an appreciative once over at the lemon green outfit she was wearing.
“It is.” She smiled in genuine delight as she hurried forward. “When did you get back? And why didn’t you tell me- “
“Hush darling.” Meeting her halfway, he enfolded her into his arms and closed his eyes. “It is so good to be home and to see you.” In his inimitable mercurial change of mood, he put her away from him and took a look around the wide-open space.
“I see we have acquired several new pieces.” Moving away from her, he hurried over to the ‘amateur wall as they had named the section for up-and-coming artists.
“What do you think?” Zuri had been with the art gallery for the past five years, but she was still a little tentative when it came to spotting talent. Tristan Moore was the ultimate expert on everything art and she was not arrogant enough to think she could outdo him.
“The lines are a little blurry.” He tapped one long finger against his lips in fierce concentration. “But the painter shows promise.” He peered at the signature scrawled onto the canvas. “Jason W.”
“He is a street painter.” She explained, joining him in studying the painting which depicted the rush and crush of forty-second street. “I believe he managed to capture the crowd in a way that is almost comical. This is precisely how I picture New York.”
“He even managed to tuck the little outdoor café- “Leaning closer, he gave it a better look. “It’s brilliant,” he murmured, turning to give her a look of approval. “I see as usual; I left the gallery in very good hands.”
“How was your trip?” Zuri linked them by putting her hand through his arm. “Did you manage to sort things out with Victor?”
A flash of pain touched his suavely handsome face. “You should have warned me about running after a man all the way to the Caribbean.”
“What happened?”
“He was with someone else.” He ushered them into his office and left the doors open.
“Honey, I am so sorry.”
He waved a hand and indicated for her to take a seat. “I have been here since late last night. I did not want to disturb your beauty sleep. And as far as that sleaze bag is concerned- I saw the signs and I ignored them.”
“How do you feel?”
He gave a fatalistic shrug. “Relieved. I had my hopes pinned on him and when he was here, he wanted me to compromise a lot of standards.” He leaned forward. “How is she?”
Zuri felt her heart constricting and wished he had not brought it up. Forcing her fingers to relax, she tried to appear nonchalant.
“I am such a dick.” He made a commiserating sound. “I should not have asked you.”
“You are my best friend and you have your concerns.”
“How is the rehab?”
“She left.”
“Darling-”
Zuri held up a hand and shook her head. “I am not going to worry about it. Mama is an adult, and I have decided not to worry myself sick about her.”
“As long as she is not in your space.”
“She is staying at that residential home.”
“I agree with you darling. Just let it go. That woman –” e shook his head. “She is your mother and I am supposed to be respectful. But that woman has been giving you hell all your life and it is time to get from under her thumb.
Now.” He added briskly, “Time to stop talking about the dreary stuff.” He gestured to the packages carefully stacked against the filing cabinet. “I did manage to pick up a few items on my trip.” He glanced at his expensive timepiece.
“It is time for the others to start arriving and we do have an early showing at nine. We will talk later? I also brought back a bottle of Costa Ambrosia, which I am told by an expert is rather invigorating.”
“It's good to have you back.”
“And from all accounts, you have held your own and taken care of business,” he told her approvingly.
*****
“What will you do?” Joseph asked his friend quietly. They were enjoying glasses of excellent port in Ben’s office. The two men were associates and friends, something that made it easy for him to pour out what was uppermost on his mind.
“I will think on it and decide in the next few days.” He was being evasive, but he just wanted to finalize his plans before revealing it to his friend. “I do not miss him, you know.” He continued quietly.
Arising from the chair, he walked over to the window to look out onto the grounds. The cottage was part of the estate and whenever he was in a mood, which was frequent, he would come here to be alone – to drink alone and to contemplate his future.
The palatial home was dreary, the gray English weather, making it even more so. It was spring – but it made no difference except that there were tea roses blooming in the gardens.
The rain which had come down in torrents earlier this morning was dewy on the leaves – a fire was blazing in the hearth, but he could still feel the dampness seeping through the walls.
“We have that much in common,” Joseph acknowledged, gazing at the ramrod straight figure outlined in the flickering sunlight dappling the window.
“And now you have Delores.”
“I almost blew it with my quest for vengeance,” he remarked with a grimace.
“I was the most animated when I was fighting war and behind enemy lines.” He turned to face his friend. “I have a bride selected for me. And Mother is insisting that I announce the engagement, make it formal.” The distaste was evident in his deep voice.
“I want more Joseph.”
“You deserve more.”
“All of this-” back to the window, he gestured to the grounds, encompassing the dreary home he had been brought up in. It had never felt like home to him. His upbringing had been rather strict – rules applied and enforced.
He had lived in a veritable prison without the iron bars. He had been told when to go to bed and what time to get up in the mornings. His life had been controlled first by his father and then by his mother. He was thirty-one-years-old and still felt like a puppet with its string being pulled.
“It has never brought me an iota of happiness.” His light blue eyes studied the hares flashing across the manicured grounds. “I have to get away from it all.”
“Where will you go?”
“I have not decided yet,” he lied. Joseph Ainsworth was a very good friend, but the man would be obligated to tell his beautiful wife and Delores would probably let it slip at the tea party that was being held to honor the veterans on Saturday.
He could not run the risk of his plans being leaked before he has a chance to implement them. “We digressed,” squaring his narrow shoulders, he turned and walked back to the desk.
“Shall we discuss the merger?”
*****
Tristan watched as the exquisite beauty managed to escape from the amorous attention from one of their most faithful patrons, smiling and distracting him by pointing to the painting they had both been admiring.
“She is quite something isn’t she?” He had been so enraptured by his assistant that he had not noticed the man coming alongside him. Immediately, his entire body stiffened and he had to force himself not to recoil.
The art world was vicious and one had to be ruthless enough to stay on top. Mark Malone was a boor, with little appreciation for the arts and too much money at his disposal.
He was also involved in shady business dealings and had been trying to persuade Tristan to launder money for his different enterprises. That did not trouble him so much. The man was a bully and he had dealt with his fair share of them. What concerns him was the man’s avid interest in Zuri.
“She is. Fancy seeing you here Mark. And that suit.” The distaste was evident in his cultured voice as his gaze flickered over the loud sports jacket. “How interesting,”
“Picked it up in Mexico,” the man boasted.
“You should have left it there.”
Making a loud guffaw, he slapped Tristan on the back hard enough to spill the champagne in the glass.
“I guess that is my cue to go and see to my paying patrons.” With a disparaging look at the unkempt man, he started off.
“I am going to ask her out.”
That stopped him dead in his tracks.
“You keep away from her,” he hissed.
Mark just gave him an insolent smile. “What the hell do you care? You are queer.”
Tristan’s eyes glowered and he had to force himself not to throw the rest of the champagne into the man’s face.
But he had audiences and on top of that, he was not going to give Mark Malone the satisfaction of knowing he had rattled his cage. “You are right,” he agreed sweetly. “But even so, I know a woman like Zuri would never stoop so low as to go out with a man like you.”
“She is not that special buddy,” he sneered. “Her mama is an alcoholic and she has no idea who her daddy is. I did my checks. I have money and can keep her in style. She would be lucky to get my attention.”
“You slow down-” he broke off with a smile as one of his regulars came over with a question.
“This way darling.” Sending the despicable man, a glower, he went about his business.
*****
Zuri was exhausted, but it was an exhaustion that was gratifying. It always was whenever it comes to her job – her career. Slipping out of the killer heels, she padded into her bedroom to sit on the edge of the sofa so she could massage her insteps.
When she was finished with that, she dragged her fingers through the shaggy dark brown curls, rubbing the tips of her fingers over her neck and her throat.
Tristan had insisted on them having a glass of wine before she left and had vented about the toad Mark Malone.
“I don’t know why you allow him to get under your skin,” she had said mildly when he told her what the man said. “My gene pool is public knowledge and I am not ashamed of myself.”
“But his inference about you not able to do better-”
“We both know that if he was the last man on earth, I would go back to the creator, the way I came out of Joan’s womb.”
“But that would not be accurate, would it?” he asked her cautiously. “Has he contacted you?”
She had shaken her head. “I don’t think he will, not after that scene at the gallery a month ago.”
“I wanted to wring his damn neck for embarrassing you like that.”
“That did it for me.”
“Darling, you are not gullible and surely you did not believe him when he told you he was leaving his wife of ten years, not to mention they had two children together-”
“Please do not remind me of my naivety,” she had begged.
Now inside her bedroom, she allowed her mind to drift to the past. She had been charmed by him – an up-and-coming politician who had waltzed into the gallery. She had been alone at the time, after closing time. He had rushed in begging that she ignore the sign.
“It’s Mother’s birthday and she has been hinting at getting a Jackson Colby to hang inside her study.” His smile had captivated her and they had ended up spending a better part of an hour walking the gallery, trying to decide on the best one. He had then asked her out for coffee.
“It’s late,” she protested, looking at her watch.
“This is New York, it’s never late,” he said finally. They had gone for coffee and slices of carrot cake which had then led to her going back to his apartment to spend the night with him.
The lovemaking had been hurried and a little rough – certainly noisy. She had been horrified that she had crossed the line with a client and had been tearful and humiliated when she discovered his marital status.
But he had talked his way into her life by feeding her lies. “Genny and I are on the verge of a divorce. We are separated-”
“And that is what men say when they want to get laid. And oh my God! I made it so easy for you,” she cried.
“I have been attracted to you since the first time I saw you explaining an abstract by Jackson Colby to a woman who did not know one end of a painting from the next,” he told her whimsically.
“It was fall and you had on a rust-colored wool skirt suit and knee-high boots. Your hair was cut in this cute pixie-like style that highlighted your killer cheekbones and those gorgeous lips. I am not going to pretty up anything Zuri. I am married, but I am getting out. It was an arrangement and one that has run its course.”
