Theirs to Hold
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Billionaire’s Matchmaker
About the Author
Also by Sierra Cartwright
THEIRS TO HOLD
Copyright @ 2021 Sierra Cartwright
First E-book Publication: December 2021
Editing by GG Royale
Proofing by Bev Albin and Cassie Hess-Dean
Layout Design by Once Upon An Alpha
Cover Design by Once Upon An Alpha
Photo provided by Depositphotos.com
Promotion by Once Upon An Alpha, Shannon Hunt
All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Adult Reading Material
Disclaimer: This work of fiction is for mature (18+) audiences only and contains strong sexual content and situations.
It is a standalone with my guarantee of satisfying happily ever after.
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
For you! I adore my readers, and I appreciate the time and effort you take to stay in touch.
This one includes a special shout-out for some special people I was recently honored to spend time with and will never forget: Rosalie, Jan/Julie, Anita, Christine, Esther, Tracy, Lorraine the Great, Laura, Carmen, Kim, Alissa, Barb, Darlene, Shawn, Sandie and her wonderful hero John. Also Lilith, Chloe, Marion, Sue, Dawn, Jennifer and Noel, Melissa, April, Ilene and Jeff, Chayo, Lib, Saya, Lorna, Sylvie, Deb, Marion, Angelique, Kimi,
and my spectacular Australian sisters—Erin, Jodie, and Jackie.
Also for Bus 1 and Bus 2—you know who you are!
Thank you for being you.
Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against the Wall
1.5 oz sloe gin
1.5 oz Southern Comfort
3 oz fresh squeezed orange juice
Floater of 0.5 oz Gailliano
Shake sloe gin, Southern Comfort, and orange juice with ice. Pour into a glass filled with ice. Float the Gailliano on top. Garnish with a slice of orange. Feel free to also drop a maraschino cherry in it.
Cheers!
CHAPTER ONE
“No. No. No, no, no.” Kristin glared at her younger sister. “And in case that wasn’t clear, hell, no.”
“But—”
“If you think I’m strutting out there”—she glanced out from behind the heavy velvet drapes toward the stage that had been artfully decorated and prepared for the upcoming fundraiser—“to be auctioned off like a lamb, you’ve lost your mind.” Before Mary could rush on with a million reasons why her suggestion was a brilliant one, Kristin interceded. “I know it’s a worthy cause, and all the money will support children’s education, but the answer remains hell, no.” Besides, she had donated her services as a bartender for the evening, leaving her own restaurant shorthanded on a weekend. By any measure, she’d done her part.
“How long has it been since you’ve been out? With a man, I mean.”
Kristin flinched. “That’s not fair. I work a lot.” Even she heard the defensive high note in her voice.
“If you actually had a date, you wouldn’t need to spend all your money on batteries for your toys.” Mary raised one of her sculpted eyebrows.
Kristin shuddered. That look had dragged her into more misadventures than she could count. Fortunately she’d had a lifetime to recognize the tactic.
“Look, how could I know Carmen was going to get the flu?”
Carmen Ortiz was not only a TV news weather reporter, she was stunning and as famous for her short, tight skirts as she was for her personality and meteorological skills. She was accustomed to the limelight. And people wanted to date her, which meant they would bid big bucks when she stepped onto the stage.
Kristin, on the other hand, was a workaholic restauranteur who almost no one knew.
“I’m in a bind. Unless you help out”—Mary paused for dramatic effect while her blue eyes filled with tears—“the entire event will be a failure.”
Kristin couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Nice try. There’s no way that tonight will be anything other than a great success. You’ve done an excellent job like you always do.”
The venue’s ballroom was filled with Houston’s elite, seated around banquet tables and dressed in clothing no doubt purchased just for the occasion. A four-piece band was playing a Frank Sinatra tune, and a couple—a man in a tuxedo and a woman in a long black gown—glided across the dance floor.
A Houston news crew was positioned near the stage while a society reporter scribbled notes and snapped pictures.
Half a dozen skimpily clad servers moved through the area with champagne. The bars that served hard liquor and cocktails had people lined up in front of them.
Mary leaned forward a little. “Someone needs to fill in for Carmen.”
“I agree.”
“I knew I could count on you.”
“Oh no.” Kristin held up her hand as a physical barrier to keep Mary’s enthusiasm from sweeping her away. “That person will not be me.” Uncomfortable because her absence was causing a burden on the other bartenders, Kristin said, “Look, I’ll write you a check.”
“This isn’t about you but rather the good you can do in the world.”
Kristin was torn between sighing and rolling her eyes. As a child Mary had brought home every stray dog and cat she’d found. She would cry at the store if she saw a stuffed animal that was missing a foot or an ear. The tears would only stop if their parents relented and bought it for her. All of them still indulged her tender heart and cause du jour, but enough was enough.
Even if she were braver, she wasn’t sure she could stand the humiliation of knowing she’d fetched less money than anyone else. How could she compare to the beauty queens and cheerleaders?
The lines in front of the bars grew longer, and her absence was no doubt being felt.
“How bad could it be? A guy makes a huge donation to Children First. You get a night out, he gets your company, and some deserving kid who is short on opportunity has a shot to go to college.”
“Even without Carmen, this event is going to be your biggest yet.” In addition to writing a check, Kristin had donated a pricey dinner at her upscale restaurant, Atria. “I’ve got to get back.” Before Mary could say anything else, Kristin hurried back to her position behind one of the bars.
“Your sister’s something else.” Joel looked up from the Long Island iced tea he was mixing.
Joel was a bartender at Atria. While they were here, the restaurant was shorthanded.
Less than ten minutes later, the band trailed off, and Mary took the stage. The spotlight hit her. Her sequined gown seemed to ignite in an explosion of color. The highlights in her blonde hair lent an angelic appeal.
At times Kristin wondered if one of them had been adopted. She was as tall as her sister, but that’s where the resemblance ended. Her own hair was fiery red, and her figure was a bit more…voluptuous. She preferred jeans to skirts, cowboy boots to heels. How could Mary have even suggested Kristin climb up on the same stage?
Mary thanked everyone for coming. Then she introduced the emcee for the evening, Steven Benoit, one of Houston’s most popular DJs. He had shoulders like a linebacker and a baritone voice that made half of the Lone Star State think of sultry summer nights.
She finished serving the last customer and leaned against the wall to watch the event.
Steven introduced the first bachelorette—a cheerleader for the local professional football team. She was young and nubile, wearing a gown with cutouts in the sides, revealing her tanned and toned body.
The bidding for a date with her started at five thousand dollars and reached ten in mere seconds.
Each man—and one woman—who placed a bid received a giggle and an adorable little wave.
“Puh-leeze.”
“You say something?” Joel asked.
“If I were a man, I’d rather have a root canal than go out with her.”
“I can see the appeal.”
“No doubt.”
Bidding ended at twenty-two thousand and change. Kristin was pleased for her sister and the charity, but she thought the winning stockbroker could have made a better investment.
Next up was a Sunday afternoon car race at the stadium in Dallas, complete with pit passes, access to a hospitality tent, and dinner with a driver.
“Are you going to join our next bachelorette for a weekend getaway to the spectacular Southgate Ranch? Enjoy a luxurious break from the city while dining on delectable meals, drinking wine, and soaking in a Texas sunset from the por
ch, away from any stress or worries.”
That sounded delightful, like something she would enjoy.
A man approached the bar. Since Joel and the others were wrapped up in the spectacle, she pasted on a smile and helped him.
He ordered a pricey bottle of wine, and she poured a small amount into a glass for him to sample. He pretended to know about tasting. She pretended not to notice.
“And now, gentleman”—Steven paused for effect—“I’d like to introduce the bachelorette who will be joining you for this fabulous getaway…” He pulled out a notecard.
Kristin’s customer nodded his approval, and she started to fill his glass.
“She is a local favorite.”
Curious, Kristin glanced up. There was no one standing next to her sister, waiting to step into the spotlight.
“Because I’m a huge fan of this young lady, I’m willing to place the opening bid myself. Two thousand dollars!” Steven called. “Gentlemen, who will raise me five hundred for an evening with Mary’s delightful sister, Kristin Daugherty?”
Her mouth fell open. She met her sister’s gaze. Mary grinned and blew Kristin a kiss. Then the spotlight operator scanned the room until he found her.
She froze, humiliated, aware of hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at her.
“Close your mouth,” her customer said helpfully. “And give me the bottle of wine before you drop it.” He pried the bottle from her fingers.
“Twenty-five hundred,” came a voice from the back of the room.
She swung her gaze around the room, but because she was pinned by the spotlight’s glare, she couldn’t see who’d placed the bid.
“Let’s get you up here, Kristin,” Steven invited, beckoning her.
Frantically Kristin shook her head.
“Don’t be shy!”
Kristin was trapped. And at the end of the evening, she was going to kill her sister. And Steven too. How had she thought for a moment that he was handsome? And if she never heard his voice again, it would be too soon.
“Who wouldn’t want a weekend away with one of Houston’s best restauranteurs and bartenders? Do you like to be shaken, gentlemen? Or perhaps stirred?”
A wave of chuckles ran through the room.
“Now let’s show Ms. Daugherty some encouragement.”
All around her, people began to clap and chant her name.
“Go on, Kristin!” Joel encouraged.
Helpless, swept along in the moment, she made her way to the front of the room. Then an usher offered her a hand up the stairs to the stage.
Steven planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re a good sport.”
“No. I’m not.” She stood there, blinded in the spotlight. She was aware of her too-tight pants, the tuxedo shirt that strained across her bosom and the bow tie that angled askew. Strands of her hair had escaped from the confines of their clips and caused a riotous disarray around her face. All the other eligible bachelors and bachelorettes were dressed to kill. And she was dressed to serve overpriced drinks.
Mary was going to die.
“I’m bidding three thousand dollars for a weekend date with Kristin. Who’ll give me thirty-five hundred?”
“Thirty-five!”
Was that the same man who’d placed the earlier bid?
“Four thousand.”
“Thank you,” Steven said to another bidder. “Forty-five, anyone?”
This was insane. She hadn’t had a date in months, hadn’t slept with anyone in even longer.
Steven dropped out at seven thousand, leaving two men, neither of whom she could see, competing against each other.
Shocking her, the bidding ended at nine thousand dollars.
Nine thousand dollars for a weekend with me? Who would be willing to lay out that kind of cash?
The man in question stood. The spotlight hit him.
Kristin grabbed onto Steven’s arm for support.
The evening had gone from bad to terrible to a living nightmare.
CHAPTER TWO
Daniel Armstrong.
It couldn’t be.
Mary hustled over, her smile lighting up her eyes. “Damn, Kristin! I knew you’d bring in a small fortune.” She dragged Kristin off to the side so a former pageant winner could be auctioned off.
“Isn’t this the best?”
The best? She couldn’t think of anything worse. A date with Daniel Armstrong? On a ranch? After the revenge he probably wanted to exact from her? “This is beyond horrible. Please. Please, don’t take the money.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a wonderful person. This couldn’t have gone any better.” Mary flushed and glanced away.
Realization, hot and horrible, dawned. “You knew Daniel was going to bid on me.” Kristin grabbed her sister’s hand in a merciless grip. “Oh God. How do you even know him?”
“He comes to most of my events.”
Of course he did. Always on the prowl. “Did he ask you to arrange this whole thing?”
Near them, a nervous bachelor paced. He wiped sweat from his brow with a sopping handkerchief, and his face was so pale his cheekbones seemed to protrude. All too well, she empathized.
“I’ve got to go, sis.” Mary shot a reassuring smile in his direction, then extracted her hand so she could go and comfort the man. “You’ll be okay.”
Kristen wouldn’t. Not only had she flat-out rejected him, he’d seen her a few weeks ago at Sanctuary, one of the Houston area’s most upscale BDSM clubs.
He’d been leading a submissive who was attached to a leash. Surprising Kristin, Daniel had stopped near her. From the way she’d nervously cast her gaze to the floor, she’d known that he’d guessed she had submissive inclinations.
Before she’d been allowed into the club as a visitor, she’d had to sign a copy of the rules. In keeping with protocol, Daniel hadn’t said her name, but the way he’d tipped his head to the side let her know he’d recognized her.
He’d seemingly catalogued each detail about her, starting with her high heels, the flare of her skirt, even the curve of her breasts before he’d captured her gaze. For a fleeting, mad, mad moment she’d regretted refusing his advances.
It had been three years since she’d escaped Franklin’s greedy, dictatorial clutches. And she had no intention of spending her time with another man who was just like him.
If she had any doubts, Daniel’s parting words at the club had sealed them: “We’re not done.”
His threat had weakened her knees.
When he’d walked away, she’d started to tremble.
Mary had no idea what he was capable of. Leashing a sub. Forcing the woman to kneel. Turning Kristin into a river of sexual need.
Now, with long, predatory strides, Daniel moved toward her. Fight or flight warred in her. Hating herself, she froze
“Kristin.”
Daniel.
With the inexorable force of his dominant, masculine body, he crowded her a little, backing her toward the rear of the stage, away from lights, TV crews, and prying eyes of the society reporter.
Even though she stood about five-eight in shoes, she still had to tip her head back to look at him.
Damn he was handsome in a black tuxedo and crisp, white shirt. How could she not have remembered how broad he was or the fact that his hair was a little too long with strands as dark as the Gulf of Mexico on a moonless winter night. She definitely didn’t recall his blue eyes being so intense and penetrating.
She drew a deep breath to cover her nerves. “You’re persistent.”
“I reserved a seat the moment Mary agreed to put you on the stage.” His slow, Southern drawl sent ripples through her. “I got a bargain. The truth is, I would have paid any amount to have you.”
“There’s been a mistake.” Her voice held a trapped, frantic edge that she hated. “I didn’t agree to any of this. Even if I had, I would have excluded you from the bidding.”