Storm of Seduction Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Brothers Freed Book 3

  Contents

  Bea Paige’s Books

  Other Books by Bea Paige

  Books by Kelly Stock

  UK English and Slang Key

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Brothers Freed Book 3

  Author’s Note

  Storm of Seduction

  Brothers Freed – Book two

  Copyright ©: Kelly Stock writing as Bea Paige

  First Published: 10th March 2018

  Publisher: Kelly Stock

  Cover by: Andreea Vraciu

  Kelly Stock writing as Bea Paige to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book 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. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Created with Vellum

  Bea Paige’s Books

  The Brothers Freed series (contemporary romance / reverse harem)

  Book one - Avalanche of Desire https://books2read.com/AvalancheOfDesire

  Book two - Storm of Seduction

  Book three - Dawn of Love https://books2read.com/DawnOfLove

  Other Books by Bea Paige

  Sisters of Hex: Accacia (paranormal romance & fantasy / reverse harem)

  Out now:

  #1 Accacia’s Curse https://books2read.com/AccaciasCurse

  #2 Accacia’s Blood https://books2read.com/AccaciasBlood

  #3 Accacia’s Bite https://books2read.com/Accaciabook3

  Coming Soon:

  Sister of Hex: Fern (paranormal romance & fantasy / reverse harem)

  #1 Fern’s Decision https://books2read.com/FernsDecision

  #2 Fern’s Wings

  #3 Fern’s Flight

  For an up to date list of books by Bea Paige please visit: https://kellystockauthor.wordpress.com/books-galore/

  Books by Kelly Stock

  Who is Kelly Stock, I hear you ask? Well, she is me! Bea Paige is in fact my not so secret pen name. If you like Accacia’s Curse and want to give my urban fantasy series a read, then why not check them out?

  The Soul Guide Series

  Prequel to The Soul Guide - Secrets & Souls

  https://books2read.com/SecretsSouls

  Book one - The Soul Guide

  https://books2read.com/TheSoulGuide

  Book two – Tortured Souls

  https://books2read.com/TorturedSouls

  For an up to date list of books by Kelly Stock / Bea Paige please visit: https://kellystockauthor.wordpress.com/books-galore/

  UK English and Slang Key

  This book has been written by a British author who uses UK British spellings. Also, please see a list below of those words that may be unfamiliar or confusing to non-native Brits.

  Airing cupboard – in British houses this is a cupboard often housing a heater where you put clothes that have been washed and partly dried, to dry completely

  A&E – short for Accident & Emergency, US equivalent of ER

  Bedraggled – dishevelled

  Cockney – native dialect of East London

  ‘Complete tip’ – messy, untidy

  ‘Doesn’t miss a trick’ – never fails to be aware of what’s going on

  Football – I think my friends over the pond call this ‘soccer’

  Housing estate – a group of homes built together on the same development, often with negative connotations

  ‘Knocked me for six’ – to shock or to upset

  Plum – idiot, fool

  Primark – UK store likened to Walmart

  Prat – dim witted, useless, clueless

  Skiving – avoid work or duty

  ‘Sod off’ – piss off, get lost, go away

  Swimming costume – swimsuit, bathing suit

  ‘Talk the back end off a donkey’ – to talk too much

  ‘With a flea in the ear’ – a stinging rebuke

  ‘Witches’ Bread’ – bread fried in egg

  For those of you who fell in love with Louisa and the brothers Freed, this is for you.

  Prologue

  The day is bleak, cold and wet. Dark clouds roll across the sky, matching my mood. I have my thickest, warmest, winter coat thrown on over my thin, black dress, but I still feel cold. It’s the kind of cold that has worked its way under my skin and into my bones. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to shake it. As I stand here looking down into the grave at my mum’s coffin nestled at the bottom, I feel empty.

  She’s dead.

  Aside from myself, Richard, my best friend Nisha and a few drunken exes that left as soon as they realised there would be no wake with free booze, Mum has no mourners. I’m not surrounded by tons of family or friends who actually give a damn. There will be no talk about what a wonderful woman my mum was. There will be no sad smiles, lit with memories filled with love and laughter. My mum left this world the way she lived it, sad, broken and lonely.

  “Louisa, come on, love. We should go.” I turn to find Richard and Nisha walking back towards me. The vicar is making his way across the graveyard and back to the church. Now it’s our turn to leave. Except I don’t want to go. In all the world the only people I have left are Richard and Nisha. Richard who has no obligation to me whatsoever, but is the kindest man I know, and Nisha who has stuck by me since we were kids.

  “Just a minute,” I say, realising I still have a handful of dirt in my hand. Opening my palm, I look at the fine grains. This is it. This will be goodbye forever. Mum might have died over two weeks ago now, but I have lived in limbo ever since then. If you can call it living. Yet, despite everything Mum was, despite the fact she preferred booze over me, despite the fact she never seemed to love me at all, I can’t seem to leave her now.

  Richard stands next to me and places a gentle hand on my arm. “Louisa, you’ve been out here too long. You’re freezing. Let me take you home, love.”

  “Come on Lou. Richard’s
right, it’s time to go,” Nisha says gently.

  I look at them both. I can see their mouths moving, but the words make no sense. All I can think of is Mum trapped in that coffin, alone. My gaze falls back to the wooden casket, paid for by Richard. Without him, she would have had a pauper’s funeral. I owe him so much, more than I can ever repay.

  “Will she be okay?” I murmur. I know it sounds ridiculous. She’s dead, being okay doesn’t apply to her now. Not that she was ever okay when she was alive.

  “When we are gone, the cemetery workers will take care of her. We’ll come back as soon as the headstone is put in place. Come on, Louisa,” Richard says gently, wrapping his arm about my shoulders. I look up at him, feeling numb. He is smiling kindly, but I can’t smile back. I can’t do anything but allow the grains of dirt to fall from my hands and onto her coffin below.

  “Bye, Mum,” I whisper, as Richard guides me to his awaiting car, Nisha following behind.

  Chapter One

  “Here’s a black coffee and a ham and cheese toastie for table number three,” Nisha says from the doorway of the staff room, which is nothing more than a store cupboard really.

  “I’m on my break,” I moan.

  “Please, Louisa. I’m desperate for a pee, and its getting crazy busy out there with the lunchtime rush and all. I’ll be two ticks, promise.”

  “Fine, hand it over,” I say, holding my hands up for the tray.

  “Thanks, babe,” Nisha says, blowing me an air kiss. I smile at her retreating back. Going for a ‘pee’ was code for having a sneaky cigarette. Still, I’m not that bothered, she got me this job at Angelo’s café. Nisha and I have been friends for years. We live in the same housing estate in south London. Both of us had Mums who were absent, mine to alcohol, Nisha’s to hard drugs. The first time we met, Mum had sent me to the off-licence for a bottle of vodka. I’d managed to persuade the owner to sell me the bottle; unfortunately that same persuasion had fallen on deaf ears when the local gang decided they wanted to steal it from me. Nisha had found me huddled up, crying on a bench outside our flats. She’d sat down next to me, put her arm around my shoulder and given me her sweets. I was eight, she was ten. We’ve been friends ever since. The point is, aside from her, and later Richard, she’s my only friend, so I can’t begrudge her a quick cigarette on my time. Nisha would do the same for me. Besides, I’m grateful for the work, and the money. New year, new job and a pile of bills to deal with. Richard offered to pay my most pressing bills a few weeks back when I realised Mum had failed to pay any on time. Whilst I had no choice but to take his money, I didn’t want him to think I was taking advantage of his kindness. He’s already done so much for me. So, this job is a must, financially and for my sanity. Thankfully, having Nisha move in last week has eased the burden a little. She’s a great flatmate and I actually look forward to coming home now. That in itself is a novelty.

  “Louisa, hurry up,” David, the café owner, shouts. Contrary to popular belief he is not called Angelo and is about as Italian as I am, although his pretend accent has most clients fooled.

  “On it, Boss,” I say, giving him a sweet smile whilst secretly cursing him under my breath. I mean, he’s alright, but he isn’t the best boss I’ve ever had. No, they had come in the form of the Freed brothers. Snowfall, wooden cabins and three beautiful men enter my thoughts. I shake them away quickly. I can’t allow myself to go there.

  Nisha is right, it is busy. Outside rain is pouring down, and a load of bedraggled customers have found their way into the café and settled in some of the free seats. They’d better buy something, or David will have them flung out before they can get their wet coats back on. I can see old Mildred sitting huddled with her Yorkshire Terrier in the far corner of the café, drinking a cup of coffee. She often comes in to nurse one drink all day just to keep warm. When David isn’t working I let her stay as long as she likes. Today, he’d have her out as soon as she’s swallowed the last mouthful. I make a mental note to use my tip money to buy her a sandwich, David can’t refuse that.

  “Excuse me, coming through,” I say, holding the tray above my head. Customers part for me so that I can move towards table three without dropping the order all over the floor. Finally, I reach the table, surprised that not a drop of coffee has been spilt. “Here we go,” I say politely, putting the tray down.

  “Louisa, next order is ready,” David calls irritably over the increasing chatter. Outside a flash of lightning illuminates the sky, followed by a roll of thunder. A wet and cold January in London is just about as depressing as it gets. For the briefest of moments, I remember the pristine white snow of Alpe d’Huez, the crisp air and the smell of pine needles. Sighing, I pick up the mug of coffee and toastie and place them in front of the customer. “There you go,” I say, completely distracted by David, who is gesturing at me to hurry up.

  “Thank you, Louisa,” a familiar voice says.

  I stiffen. It can’t be, can it? I tell myself it’s just a figment of my imagination, that I am having some kind of auditory hallucination. My eyes slide slowly upwards, taking in the large hand wrapped around the chipped mug, the crisp navy suit. A white shirt is open at the neck, showing a peek of dark chest hair. I breathe in the musky smell of his aftershave as memories of a t-shirt that smelt just the same settle around me. Finally, my gaze moves upwards, taking in the shorter black beard and hair, the beautiful hazel eyes. He’s had a haircut, the bun has gone, and so too has the bushy beard, now trimmed close to his face, but he is still gorgeous, still ruggedly handsome.

  “Bryce,” I whisper. The chatter in the café and the storm outside is drowned out by the sudden thundering of my heart. Bryce gazes at me, a soft expression on his face.

  “Louisa, get your butt back here. I have orders waiting.” My head snaps around to David, the sounds rushing back in. The tray slips from my hand, clattering to the floor. I don’t bother to pick it up, I just push my way through the crowd of waiting customers and rush towards the staff room at the back. David watches me pass.

  “What are you doing, Louisa? I’ve got orders waiting to be served. Where the hell is Nisha? Is she skiving again?” he asks, his Cockney accent breaking through the pretend Italian one.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t feel well,” I lie, putting on my coat and swinging my bag over my head. I glance back at Bryce, who is watching me with concern. I don’t want to pass him, so I head out the back exit instead. I can get to the main strip from the alleyway that runs along the back of the neighbouring shops and from there, hop on a bus home.

  “Louisa,” David calls after me. “If you leave now, don’t think about coming back!”

  Nisha steps out of a covered doorway, a plume of smoke curling out of her mouth as she speaks. “Hey, Lou, what’s up?”

  “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry,” I say, pulling up the hood of my coat as the rain pelts down harder. I am drenched in seconds.

  “Louisa, what the hell?”

  I don’t stop, not even when Nisha calls after me. She’s going to be so pissed, but what choice do I have? You could have stayed, talked to him. Instead you ran, just like you did in France, an ugly voice says inside my head. I choose to ignore it. My inner voice is a bitch and frankly she can sod off.

  Lightning slashes across the sky above me, and my old parka jacket is already soaked through. Fortunately for me, my bus is coming along the street. I pick up speed, running through puddles and swerving people who are trying to get out of the rain themselves.

  The bus pulls up at the stop just as I do. Over the pouring rain, I hear my name being called.

  “Louisa!”

  Turning around, I see Bryce standing on the pavement further along the street. The doors slide open, and I put one foot on the step.

  “Louisa, wait. I just want to talk to you.” Rain pours over him, flattening his hair against his head. He looks scared, hopeful, sad. I can’t bear it.

  I hesitate, suddenly uncertain.

  “Just come and have a drink with me
, please.” He starts to walk towards me.

  “Make your mind up, on or off,” the bus driver says, losing patience.

  I take one last look at Bryce. “On,” I say, stepping up and placing my oyster card against the reader. The doors slide shut behind me and the bus jerks forward into the flow of traffic.

  Heading to the back of the bus, I take a seat and turn to look out of the window. I see Bryce standing there, watching as the bus pulls away.

  Chapter Two

  I towel dry my hair as the kettle boils. It’s freezing cold inside the flat. I don’t keep the heating on for long, just half an hour in the evening and again in the morning to take the edge off. As it’s midday, the place is like an ice-box. Thank goodness for Primark and their fluffy pyjamas and socks. As soon as the kettle’s boiled I make myself a cup of tea and head into the living room. It’s not as if I have anywhere to go other than here. Nisha won’t be back from her shift until six and I’m pretty sure she will have a lot to say once she gets in.