Hell.

“Come on,” I said gently, slipping my arm around her waist.

She was only a couple of inches taller than me so it wasn’t hard to guide her over to the closet sofa and she practically poured onto it like water.

“If it’s that damn important–”

“Would you stop?” I hissed as I spun around and glared at him. “She’s terrified. She’s about to pass out, you asshat.”

I don’t know if he finally looked at her or if I’d just startled him into shutting up with the asshat insult, but he blinked and scowled, focusing on the woman who sat, weaving back and forth, on the couch. I crouched in front of her and reached out to take her hands. They were cold and clammy and when I checked, her pulse was racing.

“Beth?”

Her eyes focused on mine. They were a startling shade of light blue. “You’re Toni. Isadora’s assistant.” She smiled weakly. “She likes you.”

“Yeah.” The fact that she’d immediately swung to Isadora had my gut turning to ice. I squeezed her hands. “You said something was wrong. What is it, Beth? What’s wrong?”

She swallowed and her gaze tracked up until she was staring at Ashford.

“She’s…” Beth swallowed. She stopped and squeezed her eyes closed.

I tightened my grasp on her fingers. “Beth, tell us.” I put a hard edge into my voice.

It worked.

She steadied and nodded, looking back at me. “I don’t know what happened, ma’am. She was there. Then she wasn’t. She wanted me to bring her a pitcher...” She froze and shot a look at Ash – at Mr. Lang.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Isadora likes a pitcher of margaritas every now and then,” he snapped. “I gave her the first one a few months ago. I’d rather she drink here than anywhere else. What, did she pass out? Is that all that’s wrong?”

I could have told him that wasn't it.

Beth started to cry. “No, sir. She’s...sir, I can’t find her!”

He had been standing behind me, apparently content to let me handle the weeping female.

Suddenly though, he was the one in front of Beth. I had somehow been moved aside. I hadn’t been shoved or jostled or even rudely pushed. I was just…moved. He had his hands on the older woman’s shoulders and I could see him almost shaking with the effort of restraining himself.

“What did you say?” he demanded, his voice low.

Beth sniffed. “Sir, I tried to tell you it was urgent. Miss Isadora...she’s gone.”

Continues in Blindfold Vol. 2, release September 25th. Click Here to received an email reminder on release day.

All series from M. S. Parker

The Pleasure Series Box Set

Exotic Desires Box Set

Pure Lust Box Set

Casual Encounter Box Set

Sinful Desires Box Set

Twisted Affair Box Set

Serving HIM Box Set

Club Prive Vol. 1 to 5

French Connection (Club Prive) Vol. 1 to 3

Chasing Perfection Vol. 1 to 4

A Wicked Lie

A Wicked Kiss

A Wicked Truth

Blindfold

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FREE BONUS: Casual Encounter Book 1

Casual Encounter

Vol. 1

By M.S. Parker

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 Belmonte Publishing LLC

Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.

Book Description

My wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, my heart was shattered into a million pieces.

When twenty-five year-old Aubree Gamble was left at the altar by her long-time boyfriend, she isn't sure where she's supposed to go from there. Her friends try to help by suggesting everything from hiring a professional to setting her up on blind dates, telling her she needs a casual encounter to move on. Then a mysterious stranger comes to her rescue and Bree thinks that maybe she's met the one person who can help heal her broken heart. What she doesn't know is that her handsome hero isn't the white knight she imagines.

Don't miss the first installment in the Casual Encounters series, the latest by best selling author M.S. Parker.

Chapter 1

Aubree

Everything was perfect.

My wedding dress was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I'd fallen in love with it the moment I'd first seen it at the bridal store and everyone said it was made for me. The only one, of course, who hadn't given an opinion was Ronald, but everyone assured me that he'd love me in it.

As I stood at the back of the church, watching my bridesmaids make the slow walk up the aisle, their royal purple dresses shimmering, I hoped everyone was right. I wanted today to be the most special day of my life. I was marrying the man I loved and I'd remember this day forever.

Then came the wedding march and my dad gave me a supportive smile. We started down the aisle and the audience stood. All eyes were on me, but… no one was smiling. In fact, the expression on every face – my friends, my family, my co-workers – was one of pity. I didn't understand. What was wrong?

I was halfway toward the front when I looked up. My bridesmaids were all there, lined up in order. My two closest friends, my sister-in-law and my cousin. Their face held pity as well. I looked to my right. The groomsmen were all there, including my brother, but I didn't see Ronald anywhere.

My heart began to pound as my father and I kept walking. Where was Ronald? Why wasn't anyone stopping the music and looking for him? Why was the priest just standing there, a solemn expression on his face?

Suddenly, the pressure on my arm was gone. I looked to my right but my father had disappeared. A glance to my left and found him sitting with my mother now and they were both looking expectantly at the priest. I turned toward the old man as well.

“Dearly beloved,” he intoned in a flat voice. “We are gathered her to witness the humiliation of Bree Gamble as her fiancé Ronald Peterman has chosen to desert her on their wedding day...”

I jerked awake, a protest on my lips and breathed a sigh of relief as I flopped back down onto my pillows. My pulse was racing and there was a thin sheen of sweat on my skin despite the air conditioning in my tiny bedroom.

It was a dream. A nightmare. Sort of.

I turned my head and in the dim early morning light, made out the stack of presents sitting in the corner of my room. Their unopened paper and untouched ribbons reminded me that it was a nightmare based on reality. While the events hadn't played out the same way, the ‘humiliation of Bree Gamble’ had occurred.

I rolled away from the gifts and punched my pillow a few times, wishing it was Ronald’s face instead. He and I had dated for five years, then been engaged for nearly two. Everything had been perfect – until that day. I'd been standing in front of the mirror, waiting for my maid of honor to come and tell me it was time. Instead, she'd come into the bridal room looking both pissed and upset in equal measure. Ronald had left... with our wedding coordinator.