Desires Read online

  DESIRES

  by

  Galia Ryan

  Fanny Press

  PO Box 70515

  Seattle, WA 98127

  For more information go to: www.fannypress.com

  galiaryan.fannypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover design by Sabrina Sun

  Desires

  Copyright © 2014 by Galia Ryan

  ISBN: 978-1-60381-445-4 (Trade Paper)

  ISBN: 978-1-60381-446-1 (eBook)

  Produced in the United States of America

  * * *

  For Jason

  * * *

  Prologue

  When Anna was six, her father showed her the simplest way to solve a problem. He took a dollar from his pocket and told her that he was going to throw it up into the air. When it landed on the floor, whichever side of the coin was uppermost would determine the answer.

  The first time she used the trick was to choose the contents of her lunch box. Heads she had decided would give her ham sandwiches, tails would be cheese.

  She frowned, trying to remember the outcome, but it was all too long ago.

  Now she looked at the coin in her hand.

  Why not? she thought. She couldn’t choose on merit, so why not rely on fate?

  Heads would be Jake, tails Adam.

  She took a breath and, closing her eyes, launched the coin high into the air. A little short of the ceiling it seemed to hesitate, almost as if it had become entangled in an invisible web. Then it was falling and spinning, over and over and over.

  Jake. So trusting, so gentle. His love sheltered her and made her feel cherished.

  Adam. The man who knew exactly how to awaken and fulfil her. The man prepared to give her everything, for as long as it lasted. Everything except his heart.

  Heads or tails?

  For a split second time stood still, then the coin hit the carpet awkwardly and disappeared under the heavy sideboard. It was the place she stored the porcelain dinner service left her by her mother—not that she’d ever had occasion to use it. For God’s sake, she didn’t even like it and should have got rid of it ages ago. Except she couldn’t. It was an heirloom from her grandmother’s side of the family, and its journey was expected to continue unbroken down the female line.

  Anna’s shoulders slumped.

  “Don’t do this to me, Mum,” she muttered guiltily. Her mother would have loved Jake. He was perfect son-in-law material. Adam she would have given the widest berth possible.

  Dropping to her knees, Anna pressed her cheek to the carpet and peered between the squat wooden feet. The answer was under there somewhere. She eased her hand into the space and felt her way forward. Nothing. That is, nothing other than an indecent amount of baby-soft carpet fluff that caught between her fingers.

  Screwing up her face, she pushed farther until her arm wedged on the underside of the rail. The darn thing must have settled right at the back. She would have to move the sideboard. Take everything out, including the drawers, and pull it away from the wall.

  Why did everything have to be so hard? It was not as if she wanted much. Just to know which of the two men in her life she should choose.

  Easing back on her heels, she rubbed the broken skin on her arm. Was there a reason the answer had ended up out of reach? She has no real faith in omens or that kind of rubbish. But if there was the slightest chance someone was looking out for her, what else could it mean? Only that her future was far too important to be decided on something as casual as the toss of a coin.

  Perhaps more thought was needed.

  It had been hard balancing both relationships, especially because Adam was aware of Jake but Jake—a respectable fireman—knew nothing about Adam or her real profession. Anna knew it would have destroyed him had he known there was someone else in the picture. All he wanted was to settle down in a committed relationship with her.

  She wanted that too. To a point.

  Adam offered no such thing, and certainly not a long-term relationship or even a monogamous one. Being faithful to one person did not sit well with him, but insanely that made him even more exciting and taboo.

  And the sex! Not that there was anything wrong with making love to Jake. The intimacy, the closeness they shared in bed was amazing.

  But so was Adam’s ruthless fucking.

  How had everything become so complicated? Things had been fine when neither man had made demands on her. Now, one wanted to marry her and the other to whisk her away to a life of luxury and uninhibited sex—but only until he tired of her.

  Anna returned a loose strand of caramel blonde hair to the comb on top of her head. She was irritatingly hot, and the graze on her arm was really starting to hurt.

  She hoped it wouldn’t end up as a bruise, but really, that was the least of her worries.

  Jake or Adam. She had to decide, and time was running out.

  Chapter 1

  It had been a year since the coin toss.

  Anna opened the door and stepped into the room. For a second bedroom it was surprisingly good-sized, and like the rest of the apartment, recently redecorated. She went to the window and looked over her shoulder, imagining a bed there and perhaps a desk over there. Of course, had it been for her own use she would have expected even more space and another bathroom at least. But this apartment was not for her.

  She felt a flutter of excitement. It could be the perfect first-buy for her property portfolio. A well-priced property on a block with a good reputation.

  In the kitchen, the real estate agent—immaculately suited in cream bouclé—was jotting on a notepad.

  “I do like it,” Anna admitted, standing in the middle of the small dining space.

  She was rewarded with a dazzling, thousand-watt smile.

  “It’s a lovely apartment,” the woman agreed, placing her ballpoint down decisively.

  Realising she was about to get the full sales pitch, Anna took a couple of steps forward, sweeping a hand around to indicate the rear wall and the lack of cupboards, and the narrow working space on either side of the stove.

  “The layout’s good, but this part of the kitchen is badly designed.”

  The glossy, cyclamen pink smile didn’t waver.

  “I’d agree with you, except that no one cooks these days. And why would they, when there are so many decent restaurants nearby?”

  Anna was treated to a subtle we’re-all-girls-together look. “Not only that, there’s a really good grocer on the corner, so why bother storing food? Just pick up what you need on the way home.”

  The argument had merit, and Anna found herself nodding. It was not unlike the way she lived, since her own cupboards often contained little more than a couple of bottles of fine Champagne and a few basic supplies.

  She wandered back into the living area again. Accessed by a single set of sliding doors, the small balcony could be considered a feature, although the view was hardly breath-taking. Then again, this was the heart of the towering metropolis, and so what should anyone expect?

  The bathroom was a positive, having both a tub and a shower. It also contained a washing machine and drier, neatly hidden behind sliding doors.

  Was the place big enough for two to share comfortably? Or did that matter? In the end, wouldn’t it come down to the rent she was asking?

  “I’m interested,” she said upon returning.

  “I don’t think y
ou can go wrong.” The woman could not have been more ingratiating. “As I said earlier, it’s not been on the market long, and we’re expecting a number of enquiries.”

  Anna had no intention of being intimidated.

  “That’s understandable. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Stepping out of the lift, she paused for a moment and cast an eye around the foyer. Not overly spacious, but the tiled floor was clean, and someone took pride in the careful tending of the planters.

  She would make an offer first thing in the morning.

  The late morning sun matched her mood—bright and optimistic. Hesitating on the building’s step she glanced over the road. The inner city park opposite seemed a popular oasis for locals. Since she wasn’t expected anywhere, Anna waited for a lull in the traffic and made her way over.

  It was a welcoming swathe of green, enhanced by specimen trees and formal beds of crimson dianthus and blue salvia. A little farther ahead on the dappled path, a group of mothers were pushing strollers and chatting. Others—Anna guessed employees from nearby insurance and international accounting firms—were reclining on benches or stretched out on the grass.

  She stopped to take off her jacket. There was a time, not that long ago, when she too had spent meal breaks relaxing in the sunshine.

  Back then her father had praised her ambition.

  A senior lending specialist, and not just at branch level, but at the city headquarters. Of course it’s early days, but I think she’ll go far in banking. She’s got the right temperament.

  Except she hadn’t gone far.

  Micro-management and policy she considered inflexible were two reasons. The third was personal, for unknown to her employers or anyone else, Anna had been heavily in debt.

  No different from plenty of others back then, she’d regularly maxed out her credit and store cards. There had been little to worry about. In fact she prided herself on using the accounts to her advantage—spending and then repaying in full each month and so avoiding the exorbitant interest charges.

  But everything changed when the economy faltered and the cost of living skyrocketed. Forced to cut back in order to keep on top of other bills, she applied for a higher credit limit. The relief was short-lived, and within months she was once again finding it hard to manage both debt repayment and the more essential rental and utility bills. That was if she were to eat or have any kind of life at all.

  She was sick of being broke only days after her salary went into her account. She might still have coped if it weren’t for the terse and demanding letters arriving regularly. Declaring herself bankrupt was out of the question. It would have killed her career and with it any chance of a future.

  The obvious solution was a part-time job. But they weren’t easy to come by, and she had strong competition. Even those offering menial positions were being choosy.

  Without slowing her pace, Anna returned the smile of an elderly gentleman sitting on a wooden park bench. At his feet, a gang of urban blue-grey pigeons was pecking in a frenzy at the remnants of a loaf of bread.

  She recognised the flirtatious gleam in the man’s rheumy eyes and knew he had mistaken her smart outfit and positive body language for the trappings of a high-flying executive. If he only knew!

  The decision to become an escort, a high-class call girl, had not been easy, but once made, her plan had been simple. Allocate three nights a week to the role and pay off her debts as quickly as possible. Then walk away from the whole sordid business and get her life back on track. No one need ever know.

  It might have happened too, had she not found the work a little less arduous than she’d imagined and the extra money a little too enticing.

  She’d quit the bank a year later and let it be known that not only was she prepared to give more time to the agency providing her with bookings, but for a higher fee she would be a little more flexible in what she would do for her clients. Looking for long-term security, she had decided to invest in a rental property and was focused on saving the required deposit.

  Even so, she had no intention of continuing in the sex industry any longer than necessary. Another six months or so should do it. A year at most.

  Then she would be free.

  Chapter 2

  Replacing the cap on her Montblanc pen, Stephanie Duvall closed her leather-bound notebook and offered the young woman a regretful smile.

  Unfortunately, she wouldn’t do.

  It was not that the girl was unattractive. She was, in an up-to-the-minute way, with wide-set hazel eyes and professionally lightened hair that fell just below her shoulders. She had dressed well for the interview—a point in her favour—but there was something missing. Stephanie would have settled for a spark of genuine interest or enthusiasm. Instead the girl was bland and complacent, almost as though she was simply passing through.

  Since her business depended on it, Stephanie’s assessments had to be flawless. As the name suggested, Elite offered only the finest escorts—confident women who appreciated the finer aspects of the role. In addition to the sexual aspect, men expected intelligent and stimulating companionship.

  This girl looked the part, but emotionally and mentally she was dull.

  “I’m sorry,” Stephanie said, aiming for just the right amount of empathy, “but I’m afraid I cannot take you onto our books.”

  There was a swish of nylon as she uncrossed her long legs and placed both pen and notebook on the coffee table. It was a clear sign the interview was at an end.

  “Oh.” For a moment the girl looked nonplussed, then shrugged and reached down to pick up the oversized tote bag at her feet.

  Following Stephanie into the hallway, she paused to hook the bag onto her shoulder. Her attitude, earlier so admiring of Stephanie’s perfectly styled ice-blonde hair and choice of Armani dress, was now openly disdainful.

  “Thankfully I,” the single syllable was heavily emphasized, “don’t need the money that badly.”

  Stephanie’s fingers had barely touched the handle of the period front door. The girl’s tone was condescending and bordered on rude, but she’d turned away enough applicants over the years to know the girl was merely reacting to the ignominy of rejection—and for the honor of being a whore at that.

  “Of course not,” she replied pleasantly. “This line of work is not for everyone.”

  The girl stepped out onto the tree-lined avenue and strode away without a backwards glance.

  Shutting the door, Stephanie leaned against it and let out a sigh. Holding interviews was time-consuming and all too often disappointing, but there was no denying the demand for fresh stock. Not that there was anything wrong with the girls who had been with her for a while. Indeed, some men had a preference for the same escort over and over again. But generally speaking, variety and specialization were where the money was, and without that her clients might just as well stay at home and fuck their wives.

  Making her way across the marble-tiled foyer to the room that served as her office, she paused at a console table and a display of old-fashioned roses. Three or four petals had dropped onto the polished surface. Gathering them up, she held them to her nose and closed her eyes. As usual the spicy, sensual fragrance did wonders to restore her equilibrium.

  “Maddie.” As she entered the room, she dropped the crushed petals into the nearest waste bin. “Can you get me a coffee? I want to go over last week’s figures, and then I think we’ll take a look at our website.”

  The hub of the agency was as beautifully styled as the rest of the four story Edwardian townhouse. It was furnished with an eclectic mix of restored French antiques and sharp, contemporary pieces. Seated behind the dual computer screens and phone console, Stephanie’s assistant looked up from her work.

  “Do you want me to call Carl?”

  “No, it’s too early for that. I’m not looking to make changes, more to brainstorm a few ideas.”

  She settled into a Louis XV winged chair, one of her favourite pieces and positioned to make the
most of the light from the full height windows overlooking the road. Placing her mobile phone within reach, she opened her laptop.

  Maddie was already making her way to the door. “I take it that girl was no good?”

  “No. At least not for us.”

  Stephanie gave her assistant a tight smile, then pulled up a file and began running down a set of figures.

  * * *

  Maddie placed a cup onto the tray of the Italian coffee machine and pushed a button. Then she leaned back against the bench and lifted her face to the natural light streaming into the room.

  The kitchen at the rear of the townhouse had once been a dark and narrow scullery leading off a rarely used breakfast room. Stephanie had immediately ordered her interior designer to remove the dividing wall and apply a generous coat of white paint. Her next priority had been the installation of full-width floor to ceiling glass doors to give unrestricted access to the small ornamental garden beyond.

  Knowing that few other employees spent their days in such a luxurious environment, Maddie valued her job. It was unfortunate that her father would not have seen it the same way. A devout Christian, he would have been very disappointed in her, if the truth were known.

  She felt the need to tell him that some things just couldn’t be helped. That life had a knack of throwing curve balls, and in some instances little could be done about it. But there had been no opportunity for that. He was dead, the victim of a road accident some three years earlier.

  Burdened with her own grief, her mother became withdrawn, and her dependence dragged Maddie further down. The only solution seemed to be to leave the small town where she’d grown up and move to the city.

  She knew no one and had no contacts or personal referrals, so it hadn’t been long before her savings, and her delicately balanced frame of mind, were tested. Desperate for a job and with limited skills to call upon, she’d applied for every possibility, including those that sounded only half hopeful. Stephanie’s advertisement for a personal assistant had been one of the latter.