Revived The Richmore Series - Hayley Oakes

REVIVED
The Richmore Series –
Book 3
Dedicated to my awesome two:
The man who keeps me grounded and the girl
who keeps me on my toes,
They both own my heart completely!!!
#threeisfamily
Cover Design: Helen O’Hare
Editor: Andrea Long
Copyright © 2017 Hayley Oakes
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any
resemblance to persons living or dead is purely
coincidental. No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
written permission from the author, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles
and for review purposes. References to real people,
events, establishments, organizations, or locations
are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity.
This book is written in American English, using
spellings and terminology that refers specifically to
the characters and where their story is set.
Enjoy.
Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty- Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Twelve Months Later
Epilogue
Prologue
Lacey
Suddenly Single
IF I’D WALKED IN on him screwing his
assistant on his desk, then things may have been
easier. It would certainly have happened a lot faster
and I’d have had anger to fuel my choices. If he’d
have been an overbearing prick who controlled me
and picked at my choice of breast clinging outfits,
then walking away would have been triumphant
and satisfying. Even if he’d told me I was a crazy
bitch who demanded too much, then I would have
pursed my lips and held my head high, telling
myself he didn’t love who I really was.
That wasn’t Bryan. Breaking up with him was
like kicking a puppy.
No, Bryan Templeton was dependable, polite,
friendly, and an all-rounder who won my parents
over on day one. Bryan didn’t push me away, in
fact he didn’t change at all and all he ever wanted
for me to be was his wife. That made everything so
much harder.
The problem was that I wasn't sure I was
dependable or wife material. I didn’t change my
name as I didn’t want to lose my identity. I wanted
to be the assistant getting screwed on the desk or
the girl in the club with the dress that made
everyone gasp, not someone’s wife or someone’s
mom. I loved Bryan but in reality the woman he
loved was the type you didn’t marry.
I didn’t pack my shit and scream at him or slam
the door and call him a prick so loud that the
neighbors would hear. He just took a job opening a
new office in California and until the day he moved
out everything was very civil. I then screwed pretty
much any guy who looked my way for the next
couple of months.
We parted ways amicably and the one hundred-
thousand-dollar union that hadn’t lasted two years
was forgotten. We tried, he tried, and I guess for
him dating me had always been like wading in
treacle. I’d loved the idea of the wedding day but
not the idea of the happy ever after. Bryan had
been a good fit after college and the comfort
blanket who warmed my bed and cared for me after
a wild night in the city.
I felt some guilt.
I felt some loss but what kept me awake at night
was that I must be a terrible person because in
reality cutting Bryan loose actually made me feel
relieved.
I was twenty-eight and single in the greatest city
on earth and rather than worry that I’d always be
alone; I hoped to God that I never lost my looks
because living the single life after eight years
shackled to Bryan was a breath of fresh air.
One
Lacey
One Month Later
“SORRY, WHAT?” MY BEST friend Jessa asked
as we spoke through the Bluetooth connection in
my top of the range four-wheel-drive Chevy rental.
“You heard me, dummy, I’m in Montana.”
“And you what now?” she was stunned, I could
tell. We spoke at least once a week and texted
constantly, daily. She knew I had bought the farm in
Montana, yet I hadn’t mentioned my spur-of-the-
moment trip.
“I’m in Montana, driving to the farm I bought...”
“As an investment,” she butted in, “but now
you’re moving there?” she was shocked and my
best friend was rarely shocked by much that I did.
The thing about being me was that the unexpected
was kinda my M.O. so I was glad to see I could still
deliver the wow factor after a lifetime best friend
membership with Jessa.
“Soooo,” I drew out my words and sighed, “I
sorta quit my job and told Max Peterson to go fuck
himself. The city was getting old, so I thought, hey I
have the farm and I always wanted to start my own
business, so I’m taking a little sabbatical.”
“But you love NYC and when did you quit your
job?” now she sounded less surprised and more
concerned. I hated that tone, and I’d heard it more
than once over the last couple of months. Jessa
wore her heart on her sleeve and worried way more
than was humanly necessary. She wasn’t as
carefree as me and liked her decisions to be well
crafted. She was the yin to my yang. I had things
under control, she didn’t need to worry.
“Jessa,” I blew out a breath as I narrowed my
eyes to read the sparse green road signs, “you know
that job was more demanding than the grim reaper
during the bubonic plague and guess what? I had
enough.”
“You did?” she sounded unsure.
“Yeah,” I was getting tetchy, I shouldn’t have
called. Just texted.
“So, when did this happen? What brought it on?”
she pushed. Just then I heard an explosion of tears
in the background and I knew I was saved by a
whine. Her son Monty was almost two and
demanding as all hell, he was enough to put anyone
off children for the foreseeable. She'd breast-fed
him for far too long and now he needed her to give
him a love fix every few minutes or he’d explode
into tears.
“I hear Monty,” I told her, “you better see to him
and I need to follow the signs for Celebration Falls,
so I’ll call you later.”
“No, he’s good. Will!” she shouted her husband
to help but the screaming only intensified.
“Deal with your spawn and call me later,” I told
her. “I’m good.”
“Lace...” I cut the call before she could question
me any further and turned off the highway to
follow the single, gray tarmac road that was flanked
either side by the faded yellow fuzz that passed for
grass round these parts and drove towards the town
where I had purchased a farm two years before. I
excelled in numbers at college and worked in
equities from graduation and so I picked up a few
personal investments along the way. Bryan and I
both worked at the same equities firm and sensibly
were not financially linked as we were both shrewd
with our investments. It was our bread and butter.
We both loved making money and protected our
assets subconsciously which led to a (so far)
harmonious separation. The farm was something
that landed on my desk and was going cheap as the
owner had gone bust and yet the turnover for wheat
was almost a million per annum. He was mortgaged
up to the hilt, and I got a bargain. The turnover
wasn’t all profit, but I was working on reducing the
overheads.
The family who had owned it kept it ticking over
and were paid a monthly salary. It suited everyone,
and they were happy to stay on the land. I didn’t
have much to do with them but the dividends had
been rewarding.
So, two days before the final act that led to my
impromptu trip was an argument with Peterson.
The guy had always been a prick of epic
proportions, but he quit treating me like some
blonde bimbo when I matched the partners dollar
for dollar when I was only an intern. I wiped the
floor with all the other graduates and rather than
coffee runs, I accompanied Peterson on business
trips from my second month working for Peterson
and Tyson Associates. He introduced me to
influential clients, I was his protégé. It didn’t seem
to matter that I had tits and rather than his pretty
office totty, I was his secret weapon. Max Peterson
was a shark: shrewd, charming, ruthless and
dangerous. We had the same goals—to make
copious amounts of money—but whereas I used my
charms and remained ethical, he was not adverse to
deals that were questionable.
I became a partner. I had paid my dues and my
life had been Peterson and Tyson Associates for
almost a decade. Bryan interned the same year as
me and we were fast friends and then lovers. We
were a money-making team. Peterson overstepped
the boundaries and the understanding I thought we
had was shot to hell, he was lucky I quit rather than
filing a lawsuit.
I shook my head at the memory, fuck them to
hell. I could make more money out on my own
anyway and I had learned enough. I didn’t need the
eighty-hour weeks with no weekend and I didn’t
need to work for a company where I would be
faced with my passive ex any given working day.
I smirked as I recalled my final meeting with the
prick...“Are you fuckin’ serious right now, Lacey?”
Peterson growled as I placed both my hands angrily
on his desk, my mouth set to grimace and my eyes
narrowed. Over the years Peterson’s skin had
gotten redder and his body more round. He was tall,
his hair thinning and now gray. He had been good
looking in his day with hazel eyes and a strong
physique.
“Were you serious when you touched my ass and
asked me to fuck you?” I spat.
“I was joking,” he coughed awkwardly, unable to
meet my eye and straightened his expensive silk tie
that looked like shit resting on his engorged
stomach.
“In all the years I’ve been here you’ve never
once treated me like the office bimbo and yet in
just five minutes you behaved like a complete
creep. You make me sick!” I yelled. His eyes
wandered warily to the door of his office that
remained open. “I want a settlement and I want
out.” He took a deep inhale through his nose and
closed his eyes. “I want my partnership investment
back, I want a severance bonus and to keep my
shares that give me a generous dividend—
otherwise I will slap you with a sexual harassment
suit so damaging that no one will touch Peterson
and Tyson for a decade.”
“It’s your word against mine.” He narrowed his
eyes and lay back in his chair, playing hard ball.
“I think we both know that reputation is built on
trust and there’s no smoke without fire, so you
wanna take the risk?” I sighed, “I can drum up
some pretty damaging press.” I pursed my lips and
stepped backwards. “Who trusts a man with their
hard-earned millions when he’s a pervert who
molested his only female partner? Inclusion and
diversity is hot as hell right now, you could cause
irreparable damage with those grubby mitts!” I
nodded to his hands clasped firmly on top of his
desk.
Truth be told the old goat trying his luck with me
had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. I
was unhappy, I was unsettled. I was ready to work
less and feel more. My life was fractured, my
marriage was over, and I was struggling to see
beyond that day.
“Fine,” he spat out, his face practically purple
with rage, “go and take your shares.” He shook his
head, “I had high hopes for you, Lacey.”
“Yeah?” I laughed callously, “then maybe you
should have waited a few weeks after my husband
moved across country to feel my ass and try to dry
hump me in your office.”
He coughed awkwardly, “we need to agree a
timeline.”
“Fuck that,” I added bitterly, “I’ll work my notice
remotely and you can organize who I’m handing
my clients over to.” I sashayed to the doorway and
turned back just before I left, “shame on you
Peterson,” I sneered, “I really thought you rated me
as a businesswoman but it turns out I was just
another piece of ass.”
“You were THE piece of ass,” he growled as I
walked through the door. “The best damned intern I
ever had.”
I took a deep breath. I knew he rated me, I knew
I’d been the best but still he couldn’t keep his
sleazy hands off me. I knew he would miss me, and
yet I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for not just
brushing off his unwanted advances and getting
over it. I hated to be reminded that I was a woman
in a man’s world, especially by my boss. Prick...
I followed the Sat Nav to the final turn before the
road took me all the way to Celebration Falls. The
farm was situated on the periphery of the town,
some six thousand acres of golden fields. The old
beat up sign read Bishops Hill Farm. It was dated,
and the paint was faded but this was the drive to
my investment and the place where I would work
remotely until I decided what the hell to do with the
rest of my life. Sleeping with hot dudes—who were
far more interested in nasty sex than they had been
when I was last single by the way—was not
working.
I would re-group. I would call Jessa and get her
on board with Montana... for now.
Two
Lacey
EVERY GIRL HAS THAT power moment. That
moment when you realize that as a woman you
have something that appeals to men, maybe not all
men but some, and in my case I learnt to hook most
of them. You notice that despite your flaws you are
hot, you can use what God gave you to draw them
in. I had my first power moment at thirteen. As a
kid in ballet class I hated the curves that started
arriving when I was only ten. My breasts began to
grow in elementary school and I made sure those
suckers were strapped down to avoid the teasing. I
had light blonde hair that was long, thick and
straight, so God damn boring. I had blue eyes that
my mom always told me were pretty and yet to me
they were just dull. My best friend Jessa had
beautiful deep brown eyes and this willowy figure
that looked great in her gym uniform, mine always
looked frumpy. I was short, had curves where I
wished I didn’t and my nose was splattered in
freckles.
At thirteen we took a family vacation to Disney
World and on that vacation in my short denim cut-
offs and vest tops, I realized that all the things I
hated, guys digged. I learned that when you had
confidence or at least what appeared to be
confidence, that people looked at you like you had
it all going on. Shoulders back, chest out, smile in
full force and own the room. I learned it young and
never looked back.
I held power over men and they drooled to get
exactly what I had to offer. I liked the control,
loved the thrill of the male desperation. Swaying
my delicious booty, I pushed up my ample breasts
and drew the eye to my narrow waist and made
sure that everyone knew that I rocked some
awesome molds under my clothes. My mom
despaired at my outfit choices and would refer me
to Jessa’s more demure choices. I retaliated by
sexing Jessa up rather than me down. She was
willing to try, and buying dresses for her tall, model
frame was just as much fun as squeezing my body
into spandex dresses.
My teenage years were spent chasing the next hot
guy and making sure I always had someone to
message and take me out. The key to sex in high
school was discretion, if everyone knew you were
having it then you were a slut but if you kept the
fun times to yourself, then there was no damage to
your reputation. I didn’t date many guys from my
own high school and preferred older guys as far
back as I could remember.
I used the power to fuel my need for attention
and I made sure that by eating right and working
out, my body remained gym honed and pert in all
the right places. I knew guys salivated at my tight,
designer dresses and high Jimmy Choos. I liked that
but whilst I was with Bryan I didn’t act on it,
although I lapped up the attention of course. Since
Bryan moved to California to start up the new
branch of Peterson and Tyson, I was free to reel in
my prey.
Of course he was offered the position and before
he knew, I did. Peterson told me everything and so
when Bryan’s name was in the frame I began to
think about what it meant for our future. Turns out
it meant no future, I didn’t want to leave NYC and
he wanted to start a family. It was a mismatch.
The first guy I banged after Bryan was some guy
who told me he was a billboard model. He had
chiseled abs, he was tall and had a face that was
angelic. I let him get his hands on me in the
elevator ride up to my apartment and we barely
made it inside before I was straddling him in the
hallway. I rode him with a picture of Bryan and I on
our wedding day mocking me from a nearby
polished oak side table.
After that I removed all the pictures, and that
made things so much easier.
Montana was a snap decision. NYC had always
been my mother-ship and the thought of leaving
had been abhorrent but somehow it felt right to
take a break because I felt like I needed to distance
myself from every aspect of my life. I told Bryan I
didn’t want to leave but in reality I guess I didn’t
want to leave with him. The Peterson situation
made me realize that giving up my job was exactly
the right decision and so I needed some space away
from it all to figure out exactly what I wanted and
how I was going to do it.
I had called the tenants earlier in the week to let
them know that I would be visiting but not how
long for. I explained that we needed to look at the
bottom line, increase productivity and reduce
overheads. The guy I spoke to, Alex Miller, was the
son of the current tenant Emma-Louise Miller. He
was less than enthusiastic about my visit but did say
he would prepare the paperwork I asked to see. I
had visited the site before when I first purchased it
and had a tour from Emma-Louise who seemed
nice enough. She had a young, lively attitude for a
woman in her forties and I liked her. Her father had
passed recently, and he had mortgaged the property
heavily for gambling debts so she was determined
to make things right and was grateful for my
investment. I didn’t recall seeing her son then.
There were a number of buildings on the
property: a large house which the family lived in, a
few cottages that were set aside for seasonal
workers, a barn, stables and another cottage that
was larger than the workers cottage and that was
where I would be staying. Alex had said it was
available as it had been where he and his mother
had lived prior to moving into the larger house
when his grandfather was sick.
He asked how long I’d be staying and I told him
as long as it took, which was technically true. I just
didn’t say what it was. Getting my shit together
could take a week or even two. I anticipated that a
few days in Hicksville would be enough to clear my
mind and make me focus on my next move. I
hadn’t been unemployed since college and despite
having a very substantial nest egg and a severance
that would make your eyes water; the uncertainty
was unsettling.
Finally, I turned down a dirt track that was
flanked by waist high wooden fencing. It was
winding for half a mile and as I veered right, the big
house came into view. Dirt plumed at the side of
my car as I drove; it was June and obviously hadn’t
rained for a while. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I
was going to get dusty, dirty and bored pretty damn
quick. I’d already called ahead to schedule a man
to come out and fix me up with WiFi the next day
as I needed it desperately to continue to work and
build my new client base if I decided to set up on
my own. I was almost certain that was the direction
I was going to take.
I cut the engine as I pulled up behind a black
pickup truck. It wasn’t shiny and new but was
cared for. I gave the dust a minute to settle and
then leaned over to the passenger seat to grab my
large, metallic Fendi that was a separation present
to myself. I made sure to check my appearance in
the overhead visor and touched my black Dior
sunglasses to position them better. I wore white
chinos and a loose denim shirt with slider sandals
that I realized were not a great idea for a farm.
I stepped out onto the dirt and when I looked up
a guy stood in the doorway of the big house with a
large brown Labrador sat by his side. The house
reminded me of something straight out of ‘The
Wizard of Oz’. It was timber built with an open,
wraparound porch and although painted white, was
now weathered a light gray. It was two story and
double fronted with a multitude of windows and a
red, faded front door. I waved when I started to
walk towards the guy but he didn’t wave back.
Instead he moved slowly to step from the doorway
out onto t...