Coming Home
By Samantha Skye
Samantha Skye
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, 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 © 2021 by Samantha Skye
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
ISBN 978-0-6451292-1-2 (ebook)
ISBN 978-0-6451292-7-4 (paperback)
Cover Design: Angela Haddon
Editor: Nice Girl Naughty Edits
Proofreading: Kimberly Dawn
To B.S.A, you are my everything.
Contents
1. Scarlett
2. Shaun
3. Scarlett
4. Shaun
5. Scarlett
6. Scarlett
7. Shaun
8. Scarlett
9. Shaun
10. Shaun
11. Shaun
12. Scarlett
13. Shaun
14. Scarlett
15. Shaun
16. Shaun
17. Scarlett
18. Scarlett
19. Shaun
20. Scarlett
21. Shaun
22. Scarlett
23. Shaun
24. Scarlett
25. Scarlett
26. Shaun
27. Scarlett
28. Scarlett
29. Shaun
30. Scarlett
31. Shaun
32. Scarlett
33. Shaun
34. Scarlett
35. Shaun
36. Scarlett
37. Shaun
38. Scarlett
39. Shaun
40. Scarlett
41. Shaun
42. Scarlett
43. Shaun
44. Scarlett
Scarlett - Twelve Months Later
Also by Samantha Skye
Also by Samantha Skye
Also by Samantha Skye
About the Author
Acknowledgments
1
Scarlett
It is a long flight, and my body is weary. The flight from Australia to California is in excess of thirteen hours, and today is such a bad day to fly. It has been twelve months since my life changed. It is amazing how you can be deliriously happy one day and completely broken the next. I didn't particularly want to fly today for the sole reason that I knew it would be challenging emotionally. All I really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry, but Uncle Ray insisted I take this particular flight, saying it would be the best option. I needed to get out of Australia. It was time to move on.
I look out the plane window, admiring the quiet view of the clouds below as my head rests against the wall, and I tuck the airline blanket around me. My legs are aching, matching the pain I have in my heart, with the steady hum of the engines providing the white noise to relax my racing mind.
The clouds dance below me, the blue sky shimmering above, and I think about happier times. When my family was all together. My dad was CEO of Clover Real Estate, Australia’s most successful property development company, developing many of the well-known buildings throughout the country. My mom and my little brother, Jimmy—who was only seventeen years old and towered over me in height—completed our family unit. I blink back the tears that are welling in my eyes, looking upward to stop gravity from pulling them down my cheeks.
My whole family was murdered twelve months ago, in what was one of the biggest unsolved criminal acts ever to have occurred down under. A calculated and evil crime that changed my life forever. Sleepless nights, cold sweats, and nightmares continue to plague me all too often.
People say I’m lucky, but I don't think so. The pain of losing my entire family is so strong that every day I wish I had been taken with them. The last twelve months haven’t been easy. On top of losing my family, my boyfriend, Phillip, couldn’t cope with the dangerous situation and broke up with me as soon as it happened, giving me a double blow. I thought he would be the one to comfort me through it all, especially after being together for the previous two years. My whole family was gone, and he just left me to face it all on my own. So I have learned that I can only count on myself. He was my many firsts. My first long-term boyfriend, my first ‘love,’ and also my first heartbreak. If he didn’t stick around, no one else ever will.
On top of trying to navigate through my grief, I have also had to hide, change my name, and go into witness protection. Moving every few weeks, never able to settle anywhere, and living in constant fear that those responsible were coming after me, because they still haven’t been found. There are no leads, no one with any strong motive. They are ghosts.
My uncle Ray, my dad's brother, has encouraged me to move to Boston and live with him and his family. He purchased my plane ticket and got everything organized so I can start a new life, away from all the memories. His offer of living and working for him in his property development firm, away from the daily grind of witness protection, was an appealing offer that I didn’t have to think through for very long. The urge to rebuild my career after my previous one crumbled is building a fire in my belly that hasn’t been there for some time. Heatherstone Enterprises builds and develops many of the large buildings in Boston. My talent for numbers will hopefully be an asset to him, and I am looking forward to the new challenge. It sounds easy, but it isn’t. Although, I am confident that no one will find me on the other side of the world.
I am short and athletic, and being Australian, I have spent most of my free time at the beach. That lifestyle has been kind to my body over the years. Although now, cramped into a small airplane seat, my legs are aching to stretch, so I am thankful when the plane hits the tarmac at LAX. My head flops back in exhaustion, and the stale air that wafts near my nostrils is a clear indication that I am in desperate need of a shower. I am sure I look even worse than I feel. With only a short amount of time until I need to catch my next flight to Boston, and not wanting to miss my connecting flight, I shake off the jet lag and get moving.
Shuffling between the crowd, I disembark and get through customs quickly, running straight to the next gate to board my connecting flight, maneuvering between holiday makers, kids, and businesspeople, then speeding my way through security.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I begin to merge in with the next planeload of passengers and board, my thoughts once again going back to my family, and my eyes immediately well with burning tears. Squaring my shoulders and pushing my head back, I feign being in control because I hate crying in front of others. I usually hold everything in until I am on my own and then burst, because tears in the shower don’t count. Clearly, the long flight has me on edge.
Walking onto the plane to find my seat, I turn toward the front, with my body weary, legs aching, and heart broken. Uncle Ray has arranged a first-class seat for me so I can travel in comfort, but flying for over twenty hours is still hard, whether I am in coach or first class. But at least I can breathe and have some space around me.
Space, that is what I need.
As I take my seat, I quickly type out a text to my cousin, Stephen—Uncle Ray’s son—to let him know I am on time. Although we literally live on opposite sides of the world to each other, we are close and always have been. He is like a brother to me. He is one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors and his funny dating stories keep me entertained and always put a smile on my face.
It is quiet in first class. There are many spare seats and those passengers who are on board keep to themselves, which is perfect for me. As I place my bag under the seat in front of me, I breathe out a sigh of relief that this day is nearly over. As I start to relax, a flight attendant comes over offering drinks, which I decline. I don’t eat or drink too much on flights, preferring to stick to water and fruit when possible. Breathing out another big sigh, my shoulders relax as I watch her move to the next person and I am left in peace again. My head falls against the window, and I lose myself to the thoughts of the past, before dreaming about what the future could hold. The gentle hum of the engine and vibration of the window is enough to calm any nervous energy I have.
I am leaving my past behind me today. Both physically and emotionally. Putting distance between me and my former life is the only way I can move past the darkness and back into the light. Moving to the other side of the world is my drug of choice; I sure hope it works.
2
Shaun
My fingers grip my hair as I run them over my scalp for the tenth time in as many minutes. Clearly, I need to hire more capable people in my team, ones that can actually fix private planes when they break down. Now that my private jet is out of action, I have to fly commercial, which is not my preferred way to travel. There are too many people in airports, and I just don’t have the patience. They all smell, and the little kids drive me crazy.
Huffing, I roll my shoulders back to relieve the building tension and increase my pace through the airport. I need to get home to Boston—fast. I would be halfway there already if I had my private plane. I pay my people top dollar to ensure all my assets are taken care of, and my plane has never been out of commission before, so I’m not sure what the problem is. While my crew is currently giving it a thorough check, they won't have a full report to me until the morning. But that is the least of my problems. My briefcase is as heavy as my mind, with the mental tal
ly of business meetings piling up that I need to prepare for. Plus, this week, my younger brother, Marco, is doing a keynote speech at the National Business Summit back in Boston, which I promised to attend for moral support.
Marco manages our HR & Marketing departments at our family business, Marshall & Co, Boston’s larger mergers and acquisitions company. We help businesses acquire, expand, or merge with others to increase profitability. Business is cutthroat; everyone is poaching people from us and us from them. Loyalty isn’t really a strong trait anymore, and we need loyalty now more than ever. But people were never my game. I network, make connections, and have my family, but I keep my circle close. Business is harsh, and people are fickle. You have to protect yourself.
Having a billion-dollar business is hard work as a CEO, but with my brother also involved, it makes it easier to enjoy. The two of us are a good team. After Dad passed away three years ago, I took over as CEO, and now with Marco by my side, we are a force to be reckoned with and are inseparable. Even though my head is the only one at the top, I couldn’t do it without Marco. Not only are we brothers, but we’re also best friends.
The two of us and Mom are a happy unit now, and although Dad is missed by many, we are doing okay. A heart attack at sixty-five was unexpected, but his workload and stress played a big part, something my mother continues to remind me about. She also reminds me she wants grandchildren, but I tune out at that point. I’m loving my bachelorhood too much to care about having a steady relationship. Women only ever want one thing from me. Money. I usually only want one thing from them. Sex.
Business keeps me busy, so my life outside of that needs to be simple. I don’t do relationships. I hate crowds. I’m not interested in parties or galas, although I do go to a few for business reasons. Close friends, quality establishments, and casual sex are all I need.
As I walk toward the departure gate at the airport, weaving my way through the crowd, the thought comes to me that I need a woman for tonight. Someone to take my mind off work and perhaps help me unwind from this flight.
My mind immediately flicks to a woman I met at a function last week. Natalie. We met briefly, then enjoyed exploring each other in the coatroom before I left. I have her number and know she would be keen for a repeat. The first time was okay, and while I don’t often go back for seconds, she knows that I am not the commitment type and still indicated she wanted to catch up again; such is my effect on women. All they see is a handsome and single rich man, and I use that to my advantage. They want me and my money, and I want sex with no strings attached.
I crack my neck back and forth as I step onto the plane and turn left into first class, noticing that it is not a full flight, which pleases me. Walking down the plane aisle, no sooner do I find my seat than the flight attendant greets me eagerly, offering to take my jacket.
“I will have a whiskey, neat, before takeoff,” I demand of her and pass her my jacket before she has an opportunity to ask. Looking around, I see no one I recognize before my eyes fall on a young woman sitting across the aisle, causing me to do a double take. She is fucking beautiful. Her hair is long and thick, the color of honey, and cascades down past her shoulders onto her sun-kissed tanned skin. I’m not sure I have ever seen a woman quite like her, and my eyes don’t leave her as I take my seat and buckle in.
I don’t make a habit of staring at people. I see beautiful women all the time. Maybe it is because I have been busy with work this week and haven’t had enough playtime, but right now, I want nothing more than to join the mile high club with her. She appears to be resting, her head leaning against the window. Looking free of makeup, she is a natural beauty, not needing the fake lashes, trout pout, or piles of cosmetics that most women put on these days. It is a refreshing change to what I usually see.
The air hostess comes back with my whiskey, her breasts brushing against my arm as she leans over to place the glass on the tray table. She has undone one of her top shirt buttons, and I can clearly see a hint of white lace and the curves of her breast as I look at her.
“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Marshall?” she asks in a husky, sultry tone.
Her voice and her words are clearly conveying to me what she wants.
“I’ll let you know if there is anything else you can do for me,” I reply, my eyes still glued to the woman across the aisle. With a quick nod, she totters off down the aisle in her heels. My eyes flick to her and notice that she quickly buttons up her shirt again before anyone else notices.
Picking up my glass, I take a drink of my whiskey, feeling the burn all the way down, then turn my head to once again to look at the mystery woman across the aisle. Not sure if I should approach her or not, my thoughts are interrupted by the pilot's voice over the intercom to welcome us aboard and to advise us that we are set for takeoff.
The woman across the plane hasn’t stirred, most likely asleep and not wanting to be bothered.
I will wait until she wakes and then make a move.
I will let her sleep for now.
3
Scarlett
This is the longest day ever.
I can't wait to land in Boston. I am tired, emotional, and I’m pretty sure I smell like rotten fish after not having showered for twenty-four hours. My legs ache so badly, and I’m desperate to move my body, to run or do some yoga stretches, not be cooped up on a plane seat. I didn’t wear much makeup, so at least I don’t have mascara smudges under my eyes or lipstick smeared across my cheeks. Although, to be honest, my face feels dry and rough, and I can’t wait to have a decent sleep. Moving from my seat, I stand gingerly and stretch my legs in the aisle of the plane so I can get some motion in my limbs.
With only a short distance left until we land in Boston, I am relieved to have a car collecting me from the airport to take me to Uncle Ray’s house. At the advice of the Federal Police in Australia, Uncle Ray has taken care of all the necessary security for me. He has a layer of security due to his business success, so an additional crew for me isn’t a stretch. When I first approached the police about leaving Australia and moving to Boston, they thought it was a positive move, given that no new information has come to light and there has been no evidence to say that the crime was related to international borders. They still have no leads, and at this stage, are chasing ghosts. We believe they must have been disgruntled clients or business associates, but we don’t know for sure; we can’t think of a motive. Given how well reported the crime was in the Australian media landscape, I have changed my surname. Scarlett Sullivan has now changed to Scarlett Foster, to make it easier for me to assimilate into my new life. I couldn’t begin a life in Boston with everyone knowing my history. A quick Google search would have everyone knowing my life story and I need a clean slate.
My uncle Ray, his wife, Emily, and my cousin, Stephen, are the only family I have left, and business is in our DNA. I know that being near them is where I have to be if I ever want another chance at family life and career success.
In Australia, I was groomed to one day lead my family business, and I started working in Dad’s office when I was only ten years old, grabbing his coffees and opening his mail. In my teenage years, I learned the phone system and supported the administration team. My favorite task was minute taking, as it gave me a chance to be involved in every meeting, so I could watch business deals, negotiations, and learn how to manage people. When I was in college, I worked in all departments. The marketing, finance, legal, and HR teams welcomed me, and I learned everything from the ground up. Upon graduating with a degree in International Business, I started working with my father full-time on the finance team because I have an uncanny ability to read numbers better than anyone. I have stretched myself to prove that I have what it takes in the world of business, despite it consisting of mainly middle-aged white men who look down on me and expect very little. It makes it easy for me to excel and exceed their expectations, which I do often.