Torn: Part Three (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (The Torn Series Book 3) Read online

  Torn

  Part Three

  SKY CORGAN

  Text copyright 2015 by Sky Corgan

  All rights reserved.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  HOLDEN

  “Who's Piper?” I reach across and lazily tug on one of the metal balls of the Newton's cradle sitting on my desk. It clacks against the middle balls and sends the ball on the end sailing into its rhythmic pattern. My secretary gave it to me as a Christmas present a few years ago, and I never thought I'd so much as glance at it once she placed it on my desk. It's proven to be a good way to stave off boredom during pointless phone calls, though.

  Click. Clack. Click.

  I typically stare at it and think about random things while the person on the other end of the line prattles on about stuff I don't give a shit about. This time, that person is my mother.

  It feels like my duty as her son to call her daily, not that either of us ever has anything interesting to say. This is more for her comfort, so she doesn't get so lonely. I know that things have been hard on her since my father passed away.

  As I stare at the Newton's cradle, I think about how boring Club Fet was last night. I had gone in hoping that I'd see the raven-haired beauty. It was a stupid thing to hope for. Most people stay home on Sunday night. Normally, I would have stayed home too. I was searching though. Searching for something new.

  Of course, there were new faces there. There always are. But no one who really caught my attention. Perhaps because I'm picky. One of my greatest flaws. When I see something that I want, I'm usually discontent until I get it. That makes me think I should have tried harder to break Raven away from Sir Jeremy on Saturday night. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to allow that to happen though. Prick.

  There's a long pause on the other end of the line.

  “Mom?”

  She lets out a sigh. “Piper is my new housekeeper.”

  “What?” My hand balls into a fist.

  “I needed help around the house, so I hired a housekeeper,” she replies matter of factly. “The place seems a lot bigger without your father here.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing that's just an excuse. What she really wants is company. “That's bullshit. The old man never lifted a finger to help you around there. You're just lonely. Hasn't going to church been enough for you?”

  “It's not bullshit,” anger surges forth in her voice. “I'm getting old, Holden. I need someone around to help me out.”

  “Then why didn't you talk to me?” I reach out to still the balls from clacking. Now that I'm actually paying attention to the conversation, they're starting to annoy me.

  “Why should I have told you? It's none of your business.”

  “Except it is my business.” My jaw clenches and I force a sarcastic smile that I know she can't see. “You're not known for being the best judge of character. And most housekeepers aren't worth the ink on their resumes. Please tell me you, at least, went through a reputable company.”

  “I don't need you to tell me how to hire people.” She huffs.

  “Where did you find her then?” I gesture into the air, knowing I'm not going to like the answer.

  “She's the niece of one of my church friends.”

  “So she's underage?”

  “No. She's old enough.”

  “Old enough,” I parrot back, shaking my head. “So let me guess, she has no credentials.”

  “Well,” she hesitates, “No, but she's a sweet girl, and I think she'll be well suited for what I need.”

  “Fire her.” I pull the Newton's cradle closer to me and start two balls going at once. This will be resolved soon enough and we can go back to more pleasant conversation.

  “No.”

  “No?” I grab the balls, squeezing them so hard that I feel the strings straining to keep them attached to the device. “I'll hire someone else for you. Someone qualified.”

  “You most certainly will not.”

  “Mom. Please.” I draw my hand up to my brow, trying to massage the stress out. “If you don't know this girl then you don't know what she might do. Housekeepers steal from their employees all the time. Especially the young ones. If she doesn't have credentials, then she doesn't have a track record to examine. Just because she's the niece of one of your church friends doesn't mean that she's a good person.”

  “Holden Oliver Longworth! Would you shut up?”

  Even though I'm a grown man, it still makes the hair on the back of my neck bristle to hear her use my full name like that. It means that she's had enough, that she's only moments away from hanging up on me.

  “Listen, Mom,” my tone softens, trying to calm her anger. “I'm only saying this because I care. I don't want to see some stranger take advantage of you.”

  “And I'm only saying this because I care. Butt out. There are a lot of things I can do without you, and this is one of them. If it blows up in my face, it's my own fault.”

  “But Mom, it doesn't have to if you just let me hire someone for you. Hell, you can borrow my housekeeper if you need one immediately. I'd hate to let—”

  “Holden.” She stops me. “Holden, I've got this. She'll be over in a few minutes to start work. I don't want to be all stressed out when she gets here.”

  “Wow. You've been keeping this a secret from me for how long?”

  “I just hired her on Saturday,” she sounds surprisingly innocent as if she actually feels guilty.

  I'm silent for several moments, the cogs in my head turning. While I want to trust my mother's judgment, she's far too kind and gullible. This is a woman who once fell for an email scam where a complete stranger asked her for money to help his supposedly dying wife with medical treatment that he couldn't afford.

  “I'm coming over for breakfast,” I say finally.

  “But you have to work.” The alarm in her voice tells me that she knows exactly why I want to come over.

  “I'll see you soon.” I hang up the phone before she has a chance to protest further. It buzzes almost immediately with her returned call, but I silence it.

  Whether she likes it or not, I know what's best for her. Doing her friend a favor by hiring her niece will inevitably turn out to be a mistake. If I can't make my mom fire this girl, then I can damn sure make her quit on her own.

  ***

  Firing people is something I'm good at. I'd even go as far as to say it's a sick pleasure of mine—knowing that I'm ripping someone's livelihood away from them. It gives me such a rush, especially when they're angry. They can yell and scream and curse all they want. At the end of the day, I'm in power.

  Of course, that doesn't apply to good employees with a long tenure. Then again, if they're getting fired, then it means they did something to screw me over. There have been few people that I've let go over the years where I've actually felt a twinge of regret. I learned long ago not to take such things personally. If you get your own feelings tangled up with business, it just makes things messy.

  Getting rid of this girl should be fairly easy. Intimidating people is my specialty. And once she knows that if she works with the mother then she'll have to deal with the son, she'll go running. I know everything to say to hav
e her scampering off with her tail tucked between her legs.

  I take long, confident strides to the front door of my mother's house, a house I bought my parents when I first started making a lot of money. As my eyes drift over the doorway, I scowl. They could have had any house they wanted, something grand and unique, but my mother insisted on this one, a fairly simple house in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. I'll never understand what she saw in it, but as long as she's happy.

  For a moment, I think about using my key and barging right in. There's no point in going into overkill mode, though. Besides, it's far more courteous to knock. I may be here to make this girl quit, but I'm still a gentleman, to some extent. I smirk inwardly at myself before ringing the doorbell. My mother has been expecting me, so there's no point in using the intercom system.

  I smooth down the front of my suit and shove my hands in my pockets, standing up straight to look as imposing as possible. My head is tilted down slightly, ready to meet whoever answers the door with a piercing gaze. If it's my mother, she'll know I'm not happy. If it's the girl, she'll know I'm not here to be friendly.

  Waiting makes me impatient. Time is ticking, and I do have work to do, but this takes priority above all else. I need to save my mother before she gets into another situation where she screws herself over.

  The door opens finally, and recognition hits me like a ton of bricks. Long dark hair. Full lips. Nice tits. Fuck!

  “You,” I seethe, regaining my composure before it physically has a chance to crack.

  Piper is more affected than I am, her perfect little mouth forming a surprised O. My cock twitches as the fantasy of her on her knees in front of me flashes through my mind, but I quickly push it back. She's a sexual deviant, someone who pursues immoral pleasures in her free time. My mother is devoutly Christian. I definitely can't allow her to work for my mother.

  “Holden. Dear.” Mom crops up from behind Piper, pulling the doorknob out of her grasp and opening it to welcome me in. Piper immediately turns her gaze to the floor as she steps aside. “Come on in.”

  I keep my eyes locked on Piper as I cross the threshold. The way her head is bowed reminds me of a good submissive. Respectful. Maybe a little fearful. She should be afraid of me. I'm about to run her out of the house.

  “Something smells burnt.” I sniff the air, momentarily distracted by the scent of smoke coming from the kitchen.

  “Your mother said you like your bacon black.” Piper glances up at me. Her eyes are so blue. Gorgeous. I can imagine staring into them as I fuck her. It's a pointless thing to think about though. I'm never going to fuck her. Not after this. We'll be enemies, and that's perfectly fine by me.

  “I like my bacon cooked by someone qualified,” I grumble.

  My mother quickly steps between us, placing her hands on my chest. “Holden, be nice. This is Piper, my new housekeeper.” She nods behind herself. “Piper, this is Holden, my stubborn son.” Mom straightens my collar before turning from me. “Let's go have a nice breakfast, shall we.”

  I nod toward the dining room, indicating that Piper should go first. It's a good excuse to stare at her ass. The dress she's wearing bounces off her curves as she walks. It's nowhere near as satisfying of a view as it was when she was wearing that tight little skirt at Club Fet.

  “We'll eat in here.” My mother diverts to the breakfast nook, and I follow, watching Piper part from us to head to the kitchen and retrieve the food.

  I pull out a chair and sit.

  Mom is already stressed to the max. I can see it on her face. There's a vein bulging from her forehead. The last thing I want is for her to have a heart attack like Dad did. His stress was work related though. Hers is something else entirely.

  “You don't want that girl working for you.” I gesture back to the kitchen, not caring if Piper can hear me or not.

  “Why not?” my mother barks.

  “Because, I've seen her before. She has some rather interesting hobbies.” I stare at Piper in the kitchen, amused by the fact that she visibly tenses when I threaten to bring up Club Fet.

  Suddenly, she spins on her heels, her expression so angry that I can feel the heat radiating from her. “So do you, as I recall.” She rounds the corner with two plates of food in hand, serving my mother first before me. “You'd be surprised to know, Ann, that I've actually met your son before. Not really met him, per se, but we've seen each other from a distance.”

  I'm stunned for a moment. Is she really going to go there? She took my threat and threw it right back at me.

  Before things have a chance to get ugly, I rise to my feet, wrapping a hand around Piper's forearm. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

  “Anything you two have to say can be said in front of me,” my mother pipes up, staring at us.

  “No. It can't.” I give her my best serious expression.

  “I don't want you scaring her off.” Mom crosses her arms over her chest, practically pouting.

  “Ann, I'll be fine.” Piper turns to her, using a soothing voice.

  “That's Mrs. Longworth to you.” I glare at her.

  Her head snaps back around. “No, it's Ann, because that's what your mother requested that I call her. Now let's go outside and get this over with.”

  She practically drags me towards the front door with the grip I have on her. I let her go halfway there to walk behind her. This was not the reaction that I had expected at all.

  We step outside and I close the door behind us. When I turn back around, she's standing so close that she's practically up in my face, her eyebrows furrowed in what I can only assume is a mix of anger and frustration.

  “What's the big idea?” she growls at me.

  I've had enough of her attitude, it's time to show her who is the boss.

  “You know what the big idea is.”

  “No. I really don't.” Piper shakes her head.

  “I don't want you working for my mother, and if you're not smart enough to have caught on to that by now, then you definitely shouldn't be working for her.” I sneer, trying my best to get under her skin.

  “That's not a very good reason.” She takes a short step back, placing a hand on her hip. If she's intimidated by me, she's doing a really good job of hiding it. Her stance and expression make her look completely fearless and unyielding.

  “You need more reasons?” I count them out on my fingers as I speak. “You're not qualified for the job. She already told me that much. You can't even cook bacon right. What makes me think that you're ever going to serve my mother a decent meal? You show up at a sex club and my mother is devoutly Christian. It's like putting a fucking demon in her house.”

  The scowl that she's been wearing this whole time falters, and she lets out a harsh laugh. “Are you seriously calling me a demon?”

  “What's so funny about that?” I can't believe she has the nerve to laugh at anything I've just said. Who does she think she is?

  Piper draws a hand up to her mouth to silence the lingering chuckle on her lips. Then her expression turns serious, her eyes piercing right through me. “You resort to name calling. Stupid. Demon. Just like a child.

  “Your mom told me that you're a spoiled little brat bent on getting your way. Maybe she didn't say it quite that bluntly, but I knew what she meant.

  “You know, the funny thing is that when I saw you at Club Fet, I thought you were a real man. Damn, am I glad I never walked up to you. Because all you are is a child trapped in a man's body.

  “Stop bullying your mother. Let her make her own decisions. I'm sure if she thinks that I suck as her housekeeper, then she'll fire me. Until then, I'm not going anywhere. Now get out of my way. I need to go back inside and see if your mother, my boss, needs anything.”

  I'm frozen in disbelief. No one talks to me like that. No one. Ever.

  Before I even have a chance to recover, she's pushing past me to go back inside. I reach to stop her, my words shooting out in a desperate rush. “I'm going to be running a full bac
kground check on you, and if there's one thing out of place, I know I can convince my mother to fire you.”

  “Piss off, Holden.” She pushes my arm out of the way and disappears inside.

  ***

  It's been a few hours since we had breakfast together, and I'm still steamed at how Piper stood up to me. Even more that she didn't seem rattled at all. From the second we stepped back into the house, she was as sweet as pie. Despite the fact that I had just given her a not so pleasant piece of my mind, she still treated me with the utmost respect.

  “Sir.” There's a knock on my door, stirring me from my thoughts.

  “Yes.” I look up and see Glenn Brown, the head of my HR Department, standing outside of my office with a file folder in hand. “Come on in.”

  He hesitates for a moment before crossing the threshold into my office, an interesting quirk that he's always had. It's like he's about to take a step, then he pauses midway before finally continuing. I've often wondered if he does it because he's nervous, but I've never asked.

  “Here's all of the information that I pulled up on Piper Gravatt.” He sits across from me before offering me the folder.

  I don't take it, not wanting to leaf through papers. “Tell me what you found.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my ankle over my knee.

  “Yes, sir.” He draws the folder back and flips it open to read the contents. “No criminal record. Has only been in one accident. Not her fault. Graduated from Brigham Young University with a BA in accounting.”

  “Stop.” I hold out my hand to him. He looks up at me, startled. “When did she graduate from college? What does her job history look like?”

  He shuffles through the paperwork, his brown eyes scanning back and forth behind thick glasses. “It appears that she graduated two years ago. There's no history of any accounting jobs. Her last job was at Fairbanks Nursing Home as a food server. She was there for four years. Before that, there's a waitressing job that she was at for nearly three years. That's her only job history.”