The Fidelity World_Shattered

  Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Romig Works, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original The Fidelity World remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Romig Works, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Shatter

  This book is a work of fiction.

  No names, characters, or situations are real. They are purely products of the author’s imagination. Actual location names are used to only enhance the fictional description. Their names are merely represented in this book and are not part of actual occurrences.

  Dedication

  To dreams and the angels who help make them come true.

  Acknowledgments

  My family, who never complained when I spent hours and hours on my computer listening to characters tell me their story instead of time with them. They never grumbled when they were served sandwiches for dinner or asked to wait until I finished my thought. I love you all. Thank you for always supporting and encouraging me.

  Aleatha Romig, you're my inspiration. I can't thank you enough for all the advice, support, and encouragement you have given me over the years. Shattered would still be a dream if it weren't for you. Thank you for your friendship and love—you believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. I love and appreciate you more than words.

  Tia Louise, thank you for always being there for advice—book, personal, or someone to whom I can vent. I value our friendship and all the laughs we have shared along the way. Thank you for the encouragement and love. Love you.

  Kathi Updike, I don't even know where to start. You have been there from the start to encourage and support me. You suffered through first drafts, rewrites, and rewrites of the rewrites all the way up to the end and never complained. Thank you for everything—the help, our walks, and all the talks. I appreciate everything. Thank you.

  Gail McHugh, thank you for your belief in me. Always, remember—I believe in you too. Sweets, it’s time we take that ride on that kick-ass train.

  J.A. Johnston, thank you for all your encouragement and help along the way. Your advice and friendship meant a lot.

  Victoria Klick, for all the help and encouragement. Thank you.

  A special thank-you to everyone who made this book possible.

  My cover designer, Judi Perkins, for my beautiful cover. You took a simple idea and brought it to life.

  My editor, Lisa Aurello, you took a rough gem and turned it into a perfect sparkling diamond.

  I also would like to thank all the people who encouraged me in the early stages of this story. I appreciate it.

  Prologue

  Melissa

  Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, at least that was what they told me in physics. Decisions made had the potential to change, manipulate, and mold a person’s life. Women believed it was their prerogative to change their mind and in solidarity, other women honored that privilege. Most decisions were based on our experiences and upbringing. The past typically ruled and dictated decisions and continued to influence them far into the future.

  Although an individual should have every right to select her path, not everyone was afforded that right. Sometimes other people created obstacles or hurdles designed to detour the chosen path for their own ends. In my case, circumstances set into motion by others wouldn’t be revealed until it was too late to change the consequences. The cards that were dealt had to be played—win or lose. It wasn’t over until the last card was drawn. Just as in the game of blackjack, a gambler had no control over the cards. The only choice was to fold or stay and take a chance.

  Life was about choices—forks in the road. One way directed you to happiness and the other to tragedy. At eighteen, cunning decisions had left me two options: a life of betrayal and deception or fidelity and truth. Both held promises for more but also came with undesirable consequences. Neither of the opportunities would reveal my entrapment into the unknown until the decision was made.

  I stood at a theoretical fork before me and considered which road would pave the way for the best chance at my future. One path led to financial freedom while the other was filled with economic struggles. I chose to follow the one that appeared to be the easier: one year of employment with Infidelity in exchange for my dream of attending the school of my choice. Although going that route might have seemed to be the easiest financially, physically, and emotionally, the price would turn out to be much steeper than I anticipated.

  It was never exclusively my decision—unbeknownst to me. My future would be influenced by a man who manipulated and changed the course of my life. Obstacles were placed in my path to ensure that his fantasy of taming a redheaded firecracker was fulfilled, guaranteeing that the road I picked intertwined my dreams with his desires in ways I wouldn’t understand until it was too late.

  Looking back, my childhood dream influenced so many of my decisions and left my life in the balance of others. I wasn't more than a fly to be swatted away when I became a liability to the future of Infidelity, a company that catered to the wealthy and entitled. I lost the right to decide for myself—all of my future decisions made have been determined by those with their own best interests and agenda. I was insignificant—a means to an end to ensure that the power stayed with the powerful.

  I finally admitted to myself that the agreement that funded my dream opened the door into the world ruled by wealth and power. The consequences dispensed were determined by the person who paid the most money. I wasn't the princess from a Disney movie who found her Prince Charming. A knight in shining armor wouldn't swoop to my rescue. My happily-ever-after wasn't written in the stars. The story of my decisions wasn't a fairy tale—it was a nightmare that crushed my dream and left me shattered.

  Chapter 1

  Plan Set into Motion

  Two years earlier

  Peyton

  I concealed her picture between business and credit cards in my wallet. It was my daily treat to help pass the time until she was mine, not that I needed the image to fantasize about her. Every detail of her being was burned into my memory. The first time I saw her was last month at a surprise birthday party my wife insisted I attend. I owned Harrison Imports, a multibillion-dollar company, and her insistence wasn’t something I often entertained, but I was tired of hearing her bullshit, so I went. My secretary was instructed to call an hour into the party to inform me of my excuse—a company emergency in Chicago. My private plane was fueled and ready for takeoff the moment I left the party. Company emergencies or contract issues were my go-to excuses to free me from my home.

  I wasn't a good husband, and my wife wasn't ‘June fucking Cleaver’ from Leave it to Beaver. I cheated on her, and she knew it. Hell, she walked in the night before our wedding to find me with my dick in some other woman’s mouth. Our marriage was one of convenience. She conveniently spent my money, and I conveniently used her for information she was privy to from her employer, information that grew my company and my finances into the fortune it is today. It was the perfect arrangement until her biological clock began to ring. Now, she wanted us to have a real marriage and kids. That shit wouldn't happen. I had no interest in children and decided on a vasectomy long before we ever met. I just omitted that information before our arrangement began. At the time, I believed it was a need-to-know status quo. I needed to know. She didn't. I refused to be tied to some bitch for the rest of my life when she ’accidentally’ missed her birth control.

  I pulled my beautiful girl's picture out of m
y wallet every day since I stole it from my wife. Shit, the only reason I hid it was because of who she was—forbidden fruit. I knew it was wrong, but she consumed my thoughts. I imagined all the dirty things I would do to her as I worked my morning wood in the shower. It was my only relief from blue balls. My dick didn't even jump anymore with my wife's touch—I had to pretend it was my sweetness.

  The minute I walked into that party, all I saw was the most beautiful face framed with long red curls. This sweet beauty was at least six inches shorter than me, had a tiny waist and plump breasts. Her vibrant green eyes bore into me as my eyes ran up and down her sexy body. My gaze stopped at the prettiest red lips, meant to be wrapped around my cock as I face-fucked her. When she ran her tongue over her desirable lips, my dick twitched.

  My dick ached, begging for release from the sweet beauty headed my way as my wife introduced me to her friends. We may have been married for years, but this was one of the few times I ever interacted with these people. I nodded attentively and never heard a word. It was a skill I’d perfected over the years. I was a master at manipulation with the ability to maintain an impression of interest even when there wasn't one. I'd conducted video and conference calls while my dick was being sucked without so much as a hitch in the conversation.

  When my beauty reached us, the rest of the world faded away. All I saw was her sexy-as-sin eyes and pale skin meant to be marked by me. I imagined her bent over my bed and her bare ass high in the air for me to take. In my fantasy, she would plead and beg for me to fuck her, but I'd refuse until my belt left her ass as red as the hair on top of her head. My grip would tighten around her already-bruised hips as I pumped in and out of her. As the scenes played in my mind, my dick raged to be touched by the feisty firecracker in front of me. My thoughts were filled with all the possible things I could do to her. I pictured her on her knees, hands tied behind her back, as her greedy mouth devoured my cock to the root.

  Fuck. I needed to calm down before I took her and fucked her in front of all these people. I hadn’t had a reaction like that to a woman since I was in college.

  My wife's touch brought me back to the party and the conversation at hand. "Darling, this is Melissa." I had no idea what she said prior. "Melissa, this is my husband."

  "It's nice to meet you, sir."

  Her radiant smile, sweet voice, and the way she said "sir" made my dick almost shoot its load. This beautiful creature had me mesmerized—until one little gesture sent a knife to my heart: someone called for cake and placed a crown on her head for all to sing Happy Birthday—sixteenth birthday.

  Physically, I appeared unfazed, but emotionally, I was rocked. I’d just imagined fucking a sixteen-year-old girl. Admittedly, I liked them young, but fuck me if I would cross that legal line. Usually young and perky meant twenty or twenty-one. I knew there was no way I could wait another four or five years to sink my dick into her. It was going to be torture enough to wait the two years for her to turn eighteen, but I refused to touch her until she was of legal age.

  I left the party and tried to forget her, but those lips and eyes haunted me. I dreamed of her, jerked off to her image, and even fucked my wife with Melissa's face in my head. Hell, it was immoral, but that only fueled my desire. No matter what I tried, I wasn’t able to forget her. That was when I decided that I needed a plan to ensure that she would be mine once she was eighteen. I knew I wouldn’t stop fantasizing about her until I had fucked and licked every damn inch of that body. My lust for her was insatiable, and I hadn’t even touched her yet.

  A year later, plans were set in motion with just one phone call. Phase one was initiated when she turned seventeen years old. With that call, I controlled every aspect of her future, and it didn’t matter to me that she wasn’t eighteen yet. She would soon be my puppet, and I would be her puppeteer. The string that once held her dream now was cut and reattached to my control. I would own her and her future, no matter the cost. I gave no fucks if it was wrong. I wanted the feisty redhead with bright green eyes, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  One more swipe of the mouse and the money was transferred offshore before being transferred back to complete payment. My money allowed me the liberties others couldn't afford. This transaction secured a spot for my beauty. Soon, her dream would be achieved, but only if she followed my trail of breadcrumbs. The deal was sealed. My soul was signed to the devil. I would probably spend eternity in hell, and it cost me a fortune. But fuck, I knew no matter the cost, having my redheaded beauty would be worth it.

  Now came the next step.

  *

  One year after the 16th birthday party

  Blocked Caller: "It’s done. I expect payment by the end of the day."

  Male Voice: "Dead?"

  Blocked Caller: "No, as you instructed—injured."

  Male Voice: "Good, payment delivered per your instruction."

  *

  Several months after the call

  I rocked the oversize office chair back and forth as I hung up the burner phone I used when I didn’t want things traced back to me. I had just implemented the final phase to ensure that Melissa’s destiny was set and that it would be the one I planned. A year from now, Melissa would have the chance of a lifetime. If she wanted to attend her dream college, she needed to accept the option that would be presented to her. In a year, we would both have our dreams. She would have the admission to a top university, and I would have her in my bed.

  I thought about my wife’s request for me to employ sweet Melissa. Her appeal worked out perfectly for me. However, I feigned annoyance. I knew she would nag until I hired the girl. If I’d been too eager, my wife would have questioned my motives. The way it played out, I was now able to watch and control Melissa’s future from my office, and no one was the wiser. Per my request, human resources placed Melissa in the mailroom. The placement would help to quell any office rumors of nepotism. It wasn’t that I cared what people thought—this was my damn company—but I found out early on that sometimes the hands-off approach worked best. In reality, I had my hands very much on—their bodies.

  As a mail separator, Melissa would never actually step foot in my office. That didn't stop the images of me fucking her that I conjured up in my mind. Each time I closed my eyes, my fantasy of Melissa continued and played out in my imagination.

  Leaning back, I imagined that a blinking red light on her office phone would inform her that I needed her in my office. She would softly knock before she entered.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "I understand you were late."

  "I’m sorry. I woke up late and..."

  "I accept no excuses, Melissa.” My voice would be harsh. “I cannot tolerate tardiness.''

  "But sir, I—"

  Of course, I wouldn't allow her to finish—this was my fantasy. I've dreamed of this scene since I was a teenager and walked in on my father fucking his secretary. Initially, my fantasies didn’t include Melissa. But since I saw her at that damn party, she was the only one I saw when my eyes closed.

  "Melissa, come closer. I don't like to yell across the room, especially to my assistant."

  When she entered, she was my PA, but by the time she reached my desk, she would be my personal fuck toy. Even in my imagination, Melissa knew how to drive me crazy with her wild red hair pinned back in a bun, a loose strand framing her face. She approached my desk swirling a ballpoint pen in her mouth. Each step exposed more of her long legs under her short skirt. A low-cut blouse revealed the top of her breasts, and her dark nipples teased me as they showed through her white blouse. My mouth watered, and my dick hardened as my fantasy played out in my head.

  The pen rested against her lips and then slid back into her mouth deep. She pulled it out as she approached, licking her red lips. Her tongue darted in and out as she chewed on the tip of the pen. Her walk slowed before she reached my desk.

  "Sir."

  Oh, the way she said the word sir made my dick even harder, and she knew it. Another step closer an
d she dropped to her knees before me. Her small hands rubbed the outside of my black designer pants. Slowly, she unzipped my trousers, reached into my boxers, and wrapped her tiny fingers around my stiff dick. Her touch sent a shock wave up and down my spine. She squeezed and rubbed the silky skin until it stretched into a hard rod against my stomach. She blinked a few times, lowered her head, and licked the pre-cum off the tip just before she devoured my cock. She sucked and pulled with the perfect pressure along my length.

  Melissa looked up at me with those sinful eyes; my dick popped out of her mouth, leaving a beautiful red ring from her lipstick on my shaft. I would never be satisfied with just her mouth on my dick—my cock needed her warm pussy.

  "Strip now!" My tone was harsh and demanding.

  "Yes, sir. Did I do something wrong?" Her sweet innocent voice echoed through.

  "Tardiness deserves a reprimand. Sucking my cock is a privilege, not a penalty. Your ass will take your punishment. Now, strip and lay across my lap. Five strikes with my hand should be enough to remind you not to be late—next time I’ll use my belt." As she obeyed, her naked body lying over my lap, I rubbed her beautiful ass, dipping my finger lower into the desired spot that my dick begged to be in, balls deep.

  "I want you to count; this is only the first part of your punishment.” I’d positioned my dick, so when she lay across my lap for her spanking, she’d rub against me. Each strike left a raised red handprint on her perfect ass and pushed her pussy downward, allowing my dick to kiss her mound and drive her crazy. Skin-to-skin but not enough pressure to relieve her.

  “Five.”

  “Now, get up and sit on my dick—I believe my dick wants to punish your pussy—or maybe I should fuck your ass.”