A Winter's Seduction (A Winter's Tale Series Book 5) Read online

  A Winter’s

  Seduction

  By Kristi Tailor

  7th Meadow Publishing

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover design by Les

  Cover photos from Shutterstock

  Book printed by Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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

  Copyright © 2020 Kristi Tailor

  All rights reserved.

  Acknowledgements and THANKS

  A special thanks to my beautiful daughter, Madi- Tailor, who is the brain behind my titles for this series. Thank you for simply giving me the freedom to write. Being a parent isn’t difficult because I have the world’s greatest kid. You are an amazing daughter, and I love you.

  To my mother, Andrea, who just so happens to be my biggest fan. Thank you for constantly promoting my work. If I drew curved lines on a page, you would call it a masterpiece− your belief in my abilities is remarkable, and I appreciate it.

  Thank you to my alpha- reader, Camióna Friend, for continually finding time to dedicate to my writing. I appreciate every moment you spend helping me. I sincerely appreciate you and all that you do.

  And to my readers, thank you so much for your continual support.

  God, I want to thank you for continuously providing increase over all of my dreams and aspirations. Every talent that I possess, I possess because you have given it to me, and I am so thankful and humbled for all that you have done for me.

  “Peace of mind is like feeling the warmth of spring on your skin after a long winter . . . there is nothing quite like it.”-Kristi Tailor

  Look for A Winter’s Deception, the next novel in the A Winter’s Tale series coming Spring 2020.

  A Winter’s Seduction is also available as a paperback

  dEDICATION

  To My Aunt, Leigh Ann, who is one of the funniest women I have ever met. You make me smile without even trying . . . and your laugh is contagious. I am so blessed to have you in my life, and I thank God for keeping you.

  Prologue

  February 1980

  Spencer Elliot took a long drag from his cigar before looking up from the documents neatly spread out in front of him. Meeting Esmerelda Martinez’s anxious gaze from across his crotch mahogany desk, he offered her a reassuring smile. “A small hiccup, nothing more. Don’t look so nervous. I have a friend, a good friend who’s a doctor. He will take care of it discretely and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Take care of it?” Esmerelda repeated softly, her Columbian accent thick with emotion. “You mean . . . for me to get an abortion?”

  “You couldn’t possibly keep the child,” he answered, his bottomless blue eyes held resolve. “You’re my son’s nanny for crying out loud, and Muffy is going to give birth to our second son in a matter of months . . . imagine what this would do to her. Worse, if word got out to my associates it would jeopardize my family’s reputation and good name.” Shaking his head disparagingly at the thought, he put the full- bodied cigar to his thin lips once more and inhaled deeply. “I will not allow that to happen.”

  Esmerelda blinked back the tears that were seconds away from spilling down her tan face. Afraid that her downcast expression would reveal her true feelings, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Spencer, please,” she begged. “Please let me keep my child. I will not be a bother to you, or your family. I will leave and−”

  “You cannot quit. I will not allow it,” Spencer bellowed. It was an order, a decree. “I want you here. I enjoy your company . . . our time together.” Rising to his feet, Spencer rounded his desk so that he was only inches away from the young woman. “Come to me,” he demanded.

  Without hesitation Esmerelda did as she was told, making quick steps toward him to close the distance between them. Quietly clearing her throat, she met his hard gaze once more− her unsettling deep brown eyes pleading her case in a way her words could not.

  Spencer groaned inwardly, knowing that his resolve would falter. In the two years that she had worked for his family, he had become fond of Esmerelda− had even grown to care for her. And it didn’t help that he found her to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her strikingly, enticing brown eyes made her irresistible, and her inviting mouth made him weak with wanting her. What started out as a meaningless affair with the help had somehow turned into something more. More than lust, more than sex, more than a passing glance and while he wasn’t quite sure what to make of his feelings for the exotic beauty, he was wise enough to suppress the emotion until it burned out on its own, and in time he was sure that it would. “Fine,” he said, after several silent moments of internal struggle. “If you insist on keeping the child, I suppose I cannot stop you.”

  “That’s a lie and you know it. I’ve witnessed what Spencer Elliot can accomplish when he is determined.” The admission gave Esmerelda no satisfaction and was spoken from a place of fear rather than admiration. She had indeed witnessed how easily the man could wreck- havoc on those who did not obey him. Chaos and devastation were the compensation for going against Spencer Elliot, and she personally wanted no parts of that ordeal.

  Spencer laughed sardonically. “I will allow you to keep the child solely because I do not want to lose you. But be clear it is you that I want, not the bastard growing inside of you. Do not confuse my reasoning as anything poetic or paternal. My family has already been chosen and I will not abandon, nor neglect them.”

  “I understand.”

  Placing his hands on either side of her face, he asked, “Do you?”

  “Yes, perfectly.”

  “Good,” he said, bringing the cigar to his lips for one last drag before dropping the remains into a short glass of water. “You will work until it’s time for you to give birth, and then I’ll send you to my vacation property in Vermont. I will hire a doula and a midwife to stay with you until the baby comes . . . at no point are you to make claim that I am the child’s father, or that I hold any relation to it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Once it is born you are to mother it for eight weeks, and then you are to return here.”

  “But−”

  “On the birth certificate you will not list me as the father, but I’m sure that goes without saying,” he continued. “I will pay for the child’s education and will give you an allowance to pass on to whomever is raising it, but that is all I am willing to provide. That is the limit to my kindness.”

  Backing away from him, Esmerelda shook her head defiantly. “I want to raise my child. What type of life would that be for a child if they have neither a mother, nor father to love it?”

  “Fine, then get rid of it.”

  “Spencer, please,” she cried, truly feeling broken. “Please just−”

  “I gave you two options and the opportunity to make a conscious volition. Abort it or give it to someone else to raise. The choice is yours −but leaving to raise the child is not an option.”

  Wiping violently at the tears steadily pouring down her swollen cheeks, Esmerelda asked, “And if I were to leave?”<
br />
  Spencer’s mouth twitched subtly, and then deep laughter roared out of him. “Now, that’s an interesting thought,” he mused. Grabbing hold of her wrist, he pulled her back into his arms and bent his head to speak into her ear. “If you leave me, I will make sure you live with the consequences of that decision for the rest of your life. And nothing, or no one will be able to cure you from the heartache your stupidity would have caused. Do I make myself clear?” he asked, his voice low, ruthless.

  “Yes,” Esmerelda whispered.

  “Good girl,” he smiled. “Good girl.”

  Chapter One

  JUNE 2009

  Charlotte Toutant stood in front of Gizzelle Bridal’s conference room door, impatiently tapping the tip of her rose gold open toe stilettos against the recently polished cherry oak floor. Dean Proctor, her Editor-in- Chief insisted that she stand in the hallway, just outside of the conference room, just in case her services were needed. What service could I provide standing in the hallway? I should be in there right now . . . at the head of the conference table giving feedback and discussing deadlines. And if it wasn’t for Dean, I would be in there doing just that, she thought. Mulling over the reality of her situation Charlotte shook her head, exasperated. In less than a month she went from having everything her heart had ever desired, to having nothing, and it all seemed to happen in a matter of days.

  Dean’s reasoning for demoting Charlotte from editor to secretary was immorally sound and derived from a place of hatred. It was clear that he despised Charlotte immensely and that his abhorrence for her had been brewing for some time. And so, she knew that his decision to demote her as Gizzelle’s editor came from a place of malice and was in no way ethical.

  It was nothing more than a demonstration of his newly allotted power in his undeserved position. A position that her ex-boss turned husband, Nicholas Elliot had foolishly handed over to him to keep the man from revealing his sexual escapade with another woman. Blithe, the whore, Charlotte grimaced. Sighing inwardly, she leaned backward, leisurely resting her perfectly curled head of hair against the cold grey wall. Extending her left hand out in front of her, she stared at her naked ring finger for several seconds before squeezing her hand into a tight fist. All of this could have been avoided if Nicholas would have been honest with me from the beginning . . . it could still be avoided if he let Dean know that his blackmail is now a moot point, she thought. Slowly opening her palm, she flexed her bare fingers several times before dropping her hand to rest at her side once more. The truth was simple . . . she missed Nicholas. She missed everything about him, and the reality of them being separated was finally starting to settle in. Now, that the shock and anger had subsided− all that was left was the sad truth . . . she missed him. Letting out a breath of frustration, Charlotte fidgeted in her heels while absentmindedly smoothing out her black draped pencil dress.

  “Shoes,” came a masculine voice from the right of her. It was deep, familiar . . . soothing. “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve found you with that forlorn expression, I’d be a very wealthy man.”

  Charlotte turned in the direction of the voice, a faint smile touching her lipstick painted lips. “Mr. Martinez,” she said, as the tall, muscular man made his way over to her. Repositioning her stance against the wall, Charlotte’s intense brown gaze traveled the length of her co- worker’s strong frame. Unconsciously, her eyes lingered on his hard chest muscles that visibly showed through the thin formfitting powder blue button up he wore so well. The man was unapologetically sexy, brazenly beautiful.

  “Santiago,” he corrected with a grin. Standing not so close that they were touching, but close enough that the thin hairs on her arms became sensitized by the warmth his body gave off, Charlotte felt the inclination to back away from him; however, her feet refused to move. “Do you like what you see?” he asked, his tone low, shameless.

  Charlotte frowned. “No,” she lied, dropping her gaze to the floor.

  “Wonderful meeting team,” Dean beamed as he led his employees out of the conference room. Resource team, excellent work. I am very pleased with each of you.”

  Saved by the prick, Charlotte exhaled, relieved for the sudden reprieve. Turning away from Santiago, she put on her most practiced smile to personally greet Dean. “Good meeting?” she asked sweetly.

  “The answer to that question is above your pay grade and frankly is none of your concern,” he answered, his demeanor haughty. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and go on a coffee run,” he said, returning her forced smile with a provoking grin of his own. “Would anyone else like coffee?” he asked. “Charlotte is going for another coffee run.”

  “That sounds amazing,” Penelope Lawson cooed from behind Dean. “Caramel Brulee Latte, steamed coconut milk and this time make sure you ask for a touch of cinnamon. You got my order wrong the last two times and I could hardly enjoy my drink. It was absolutely ghastly.”

  Charlotte glanced at Penelope from over Dean’s thin shoulders, her dark brown eyes openly glaring at the other woman. Dean’s decision to take her position as editor was devastating enough, but for him to hand it over to Penelope, the woman who had blatantly antagonized her in front of others was just too much.

  “Is there a problem, Charlotte?” Penelope demanded. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you had something you’d like to say to me.”

  “Oh, I have plenty that I’d like to say to you,” Charlotte retorted, her expression hard, her demeanor unflinching.

  Penelope snorted indignantly. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. Really,” Charlotte bit back. “For starters, the only reason you are editor right now is because the sociopath in front of you has developed a weird obsession with me and has made it his life’s mission to make my life miserable.” Turning her attention back to Dean, Charlotte innocently blinked up at him. “Isn’t that right, Dean?” she asked, intentionally baiting him. “You’re obsessed with me?”

  A deadly silence fell in the wide hallway as spectators gathered around to watch what could only be called the battle for supremacy. For weeks, Charlotte had humbly accepted the loss of her position as editor. She had played along with the notion that Dean had any real power at Gizzelle Bridal, she pressed down the emotional defeat of constantly being humiliated in front of her colleagues, of performing futile tasks . . . like fetching documents and going on never- ending coffee runs. But− Penelope’s endless taunting, her continual attack on Charlotte’s pride, it was more than she could stand. Enough was enough. If they wanted to play hardball, fine, she could, no she would, play just as hard. No mercy.

  “Dean−” Penelope began.

  “Dean,” Charlotte interjected. “Should we enlighten them on how deeply this obsession goes? Should we give them a better understanding of the man they are working for?” she asked. Her tone was resentful, accusatory.

  Seemingly unphased by her threatening words, Dean shrugged his skinny shoulders. “Do you intend to spread lies about me . . . to save face around your colleagues?”

  “What the people in this building think of me is of no consequence. You’ve spread senseless rumors about me from the moment I started working here. You were pathetic then, and you are pathetic now.”

  Dean’s answering smile was a malicious one. “I’m pathetic?” he laughed. “Yet, you are the one running in circles and taking coffee orders. It’s amazing how easily the mighty have fallen. Nicholas has been banished and you’ve been declassed. And I say good riddance to it all.”

  “You are rather arrogant for a man who has to manipulate those around him to get what he wants. It’s honestly deplorable. Do you not feel at all disgraceful?” Charlotte queried. “Are you not ashamed of yourself?”

  “Dean,” Penelope grimaced. “Are you really going to allow her to speak to you like that?”

  Charlotte’s answering laughter was cold, bitter. “Does he really have a choice?” she demanded, amusement overtaking her delicate features. Good, Charli, keep going. Keep pus
hing all the right buttons . . . he’s bound to show everyone his true colors eventually, her subconscious advised. “Nicholas Elliot is the only man calling the shots around here. Dean knows that better than most, right Dean?”

  “I have a choice!” Dean yelled in Charlotte’s face. “I have a choice. I have power here, not Nicholas. I’m the Editor-in- Chief! Not Nicholas. He’s gone and if you don’t watch yourself, you’ll be next,” he threatened, clearly irate.

  Santiago stared at Dean with an unreadable mask. Feeling uncomfortable with the other man’s suddenly aggressive stance, he inserted himself between the two of them. “Dean, calm down,” he said.

  “It’s not me who needs to calm down. It’s her. It’s always been her. If you want to keep your job here, I suggest you show respect for your superiors,” Dean yelled at Charlotte.

  Charlotte laughed again, clearly taunting him. “You can’t fire me. If you could have, you would have weeks ago.”

  Shaking his head at her words, Dean swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Closing his hands into tight fists, he shouted hysterically, “I demoted you, didn’t I? Firing you would be just as easy.”

  Onlookers stared at Dean completely taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor. The swift transformation of his disposition was nothing short of alarming. In a matter of minutes, he had gone from the professional leader that they were growing to respect, to an ill- tempered adolescent who was clearly unhinged.

  To Charlotte’s surprise it hadn’t taken much to get the reaction she wanted. Leaning into him, she whispered tauntingly, “Careful Dean, people are watching.”

  Clearing his throat, Dean straightened his posture and then as if on cue tightened his tie around this thin neck. “Charlotte, your services will not be needed for the rest of the day.”