Emerald Fire

Book 0: The Gemstone Trilogy

by Naomi Smart

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

The thrilling beginning to Naomi Smart's exciting BDSM romance series The Gemstone Trilogy, perfect for fans of E. L. James, Sylvia Day, J. Kenner and Tara Sue Me. Louisa relives the events of the most important part of her life. Meeting the love of her life Evan, the fight to prove her strength, embarking on a flight of sexual desire, pleasure and liberation. Evan introduces Louisa to a completely different form of pleasure, anticipation and allure - a world where the line between pleasure and pain can easily merge into one. A world that Evan turned his back on some years ago in a bid to move on and block the past that haunts him. Until he meets Louisa and can no longer fight the urge to keep that door closed. Can Louisa find the inner strength to stop Evan running away from the past? Don't miss the entire Gemstone Trilogy: Emerald Fire, Sapphire Storm and Diamond Ice, as well as the Fly High With Me series: Fly High With Me and T he Other Side of the Coin.

Release date: December 14, 2018

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 305

Sample

Chapter One

Then

At the age of twenty-five, I’ve done OK for myself, I guess.

I have a small, cosy flat in Camden, London. I rent but I’ve been given permission to make it my own, all for a fairly low monthly rate.

After all, working for the man who owns the place has its perks.

I work for a small firm of solicitors based above a coffee shop in Oxford Circus. My bosses, Mr Clark and his son, Ben, are more like family than employers, really.

Luck was on my side whilst visiting London some eighteen months earlier. For it was on this little trip to the city, a break I’d hoped would clear my mind, that I met Ben…

Sitting in a coffee shop window, I watch as the rain hammers down outside. Not quite what I was hoping for weather-wise.

Something falls against my leg, drawing my attention away from the outside world. Looking down, I see a scatter of papers surrounding my feet, along with the folder from which they escaped.

‘Fucking hell.’ I glance up at the man, still cursing his misfortune. Average height with chestnut brown hair, matching goatee, and a set of wickedly beautiful warm hazel eyes.

Without hesitation, I focus on picking up the papers, securing them in their file, and handing them back to their owner.

‘Sorry about that.’ He sighs.

I watch him take the seat opposite me and rub his fingers through his beard.

‘It’s OK, no worries.’ I smile reassuringly.

He holds his hand out to shake mine. ‘I’m Ben. It’s nice to meet you.’

I follow his introduction with one of my own. ‘I’m Louisa.’

‘Well, thank you for your help, Louisa.’

‘Honestly it’s fine.’ I’ve never been able to accept thanks. Nor am I good with praise of any sort or any form of compliment.

‘Were they in order?’ I point to the mangled mess of paperwork now on Ben’s lap.

Ben responds with a slightly unnerving laugh. ‘Not any more. Shit, Dad is going to kill me for this one.’ He shakes his head in despair.

I don’t know why I offer, but by the time I’ve spoken the words it’s too late to take them back.

‘Do you need a hand sorting them?’

Ben looks across at me, his expression coloured by surprise. ‘Louisa, I’m sure you have better things to do with your day than take on the work of a total stranger.’

I shrug. ‘Not really. The weather has kind of spoilt any sightseeing I had planned for today.’

‘Oh, so you don’t live in London, then?’

‘No. Just spending some time away from home. A bit of a breather, so to speak.’ I cough and look away. Suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, I decide it’s time to put up my familiar wall of defence. I look down at my shoes, a comfortable pair of black ballet pumps, now looking particularly soggy, thanks to the weather. Then I fold my arms over my chest, another way of dealing with the swirling uneasiness and anxiety that comes with the beginning of all conversations like this. And those dreaded few words… ‘So Louisa, tell us about yourself…’

Ben stands, appearing not to notice my sudden discomfort. ‘Well, you may regret your offer, but, come on, follow me.’

I get to my feet and grab my bag as the man makes for the door.

‘Where are we going?

‘Upstairs.’

‘Upstairs? Wait, I –’ Shit, what was I thinking?

‘The office is up there.’ He smiles.

I breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

The word chaos isn’t enough to do justice to the state of the office before me. Upon entering the space, I find a grey-haired man kneeling on the floor, mumbling to himself. I feel a sudden pang of concern for the man’s safety. He is surrounded by an alarming number of haphazardly stacked piles of paperwork, all looking ready to topple at any moment. A cave-in seems likely. I notice small items of office paraphernalia dotted here and there, such as the hole-punch I nearly trip over on entering the room. There are a number of filing cabinets scattered throughout, each one spewing their contents all over the floor. I notice one already turned over on to its side, and can just about make out the remnants of an old wooden desk amid the disordered rubble.

‘Dad, this is Louisa. She’s here to help us.’

The man, who appears to be in his late fifties, climbs to his feet. ‘Another one of your new flames, is it?’

I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I lower my head and make to leave.

Ben steps in front of me. ‘Please excuse my father. He’s a grumpy arse at times.’

I simply shrug. ‘I think it’s best I leave. I don’t think I’m very welcome here.’

The older man lifts his head and stands. He wears a grey pinstripe vest, left open at the waist, along with a pale blue tie that’s been loosened around the neck. His shirt has the top few buttons undone, and although the white sleeves have been hastily rolled up to meet his elbows, he still manages to appear wholesome and clean. His current dishevelment nothing more than a by-product of the room that surrounds him, I have no doubt that under normal circumstances he would look well put together, the quality of his suit is evidence of that. He takes a second, attempting to brush the dust off his pinstriped knees, then, as if sensing my discomfort, he heads towards me.

‘I must admit, you look different to the others.’

‘Dad, do you have to be so bloody rude? If you must know, Louisa isn’t a flame of mine. In fact, she’s just offered to help us out of this mess.’ He holds up the paperwork in his hands.

The older man glances at me apologetically. ‘I take it you can file?’ He asks, his voice softer this time.

I quickly respond, glad of the change in subject. ‘I worked in an office for five years. So, I guess I’m not too bad at it.’

He shakes my hand. ‘I’m Mr Clark.’

‘Louisa.’

‘All help would be gratefully received.’ His tone suggests he’s beginning to thaw a little. I take stock of the room around me, wondering where I should start.

The day passes quickly. With the aid of copious amounts of tea, I try to organise as best I can. We work as a team, and by six in the evening, the floor is completely clear of all traces of paper. All now sit neatly in files, occupying vertically arranged cabinets, in alphabetical order.

Ben returns from a jolly with Chinese food, by way of thanks.

As we sit and eat, I learn that the pair have only just moved into the current office space, having previously worked from home. As their list of clients grew, the decision was made to expand.

I don’t know how exactly it happens, but before I know it, I’ve accepted a job with them, swiftly followed by an offer of accommodation.

Eighteen months down the line, London feels like home, Mr Clark like a second father, and Ben – well, a great friend.

Everything seems perfect, right? If only that were the case.

I have two brilliant bosses, a great friendship with Ben, a good little job and a place to call my own. Yet, loneliness still finds a way of creeping in.

Through the day I’m happy and content. But, by night, sitting on my own, my thoughts and anxieties threaten to consume me until I feel like I can no longer breathe.

The only thing that pulls me back a little, keeps me on an even keel, is the little white pill prescribed by my doctor. I take them on a daily basis just to equal out the balance.

But enough of that, let’s get back on track.

I need to tell you about the first time I laid eyes on the man who helped me to become the person I am today.

Chapter Two

It’s a mid-August morning, warm but bearable.

I sit at my desk, situated between Mr Clark’s office and Ben’s. I’m the first person clients see as they walk in, and easily accessible to both Ben and Mr Clark, should either of them need anything.

The front door opens. I sense someone’s penetrating stare boring into me. The door closes and I hear footsteps moving closer toward my desk.

Looking up, I quietly assess the figure towering over me.

At a discreet glance, he must be at least six foot four. Dressed smartly in black trousers and a navy-blue long-sleeved shirt, which is odd considering today’s heat.

His, dark wavy hair sits just kissing his shoulders, and there’s a sexy five o’clock shadow gracing his jaw.

But it’s his eyes that capture my attention the most. A beautiful emerald green, deep, brilliant and just as intense as the gem itself. I imagine many a woman has found themselves lost in the beauty of that hypnotising stare.

I shift in my seat as the man simply stares at me, remaining silent the entire time.

I finally pluck up the courage to speak. Something I thought I no longer had a problem with, until today. ‘Can I help you?’

Just as he’s about to answer and his lips begin to slowly part, Mr Clark comes out of his office blocking him from view. I stare at his back with a mixture of disappointment and relief as he swiftly, and enthusiastically, shakes the man’s hand.

‘Ah, Mr Owen, do come through. Louisa, would you mind making us both something to drink, please?’

I can only nod as both men disappear into my boss’ office.

Ten minutes later, I approach the door, tray in hand, with one pot of coffee, one pot of tea, and everything else that could possibly be required.

I place the tray on my desk and gently tap on the closed office door, waiting quietly until I hear Mr Clark’s familiar ‘come in.’

I open the door slightly, grab the tray and enter the office silently, but with shaking hands. Why the hell am I so nervous?

Relieved to be placing the tray down, I hastily begin to leave. The stranger’s hand touches my arm lightly, making me jump. ‘Thank you, Louisa.’ His voice is rich and deep, and oddly reassuring. Very much at odds with his intimidating stare.

I look towards him, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. ‘No problem.’ I smile shyly and head to the door, a shiver running down my spine.

The meeting lasts two hours.

Engrossed in correspondence, I don’t hear the office door opening. It’s not until I hear Mr Clark’s voice that I notice the stranger is now being shown out. ‘Until this evening. Seven-thirty, or thereabout?’ They shake hands before the tall, dark-haired figure disappears.

Mr Clark then approaches my desk, looking rather jolly.

‘Dinner tonight, my dear?’

I quickly try to think of some excuse to get out of this. But, before I can come up with anything, my boss continues.

‘Mr Owens has invited all of us out, as a thank you for our services. He’s not the kind of man you say no to when offered such an invite.’

‘But –’ is the only word I can manage.

‘No buts. It’s settled. Just dress smartly and you’ll be fine.’

I place my head in my hands, nerves already in overdrive.

As Mr Clark makes his way back to his office, feeling resigned, I call him back at the last minute. ‘Would it be possible to take the rest of the afternoon off, please? I need to go dress shopping.’

‘Of course, my dear.’ He chuckles as he makes his way back into his office.

While my mad shopping frenzy is in full force, I stop only to answer my mobile.

‘Hey, babe, where’ve you disappeared to?’ Ben. The sound of his voice brings calm… well, most of the time anyway.

‘Dress hunting for tonight.’

‘Ah yes, Dad just told me about the dinner. Don’t stress about it. Besides, you’d look great in a bin liner.’

‘You have to say that, you’re my friend.’

‘Especially as one who wants to get in your knickers.’

I chuckle at this comment. ‘I’ve told you before, there’s only room for one in these pants. I would need to take them off first.’

I know deep down that he wants more. But, that’s something I’m just unable to give him.

I move the phone away from my ear until he’s finished laughing, rather loudly.

‘I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, OK, babe?’

‘OK. Thank you, Ben.’

‘No worries. Try to remain calm and enjoy your shopping.’

‘Yeah, right.’ I reply before hanging up.

Right, back to the task in hand. God, I hate shopping.

Chapter Three

I take a quick glance at myself in the full-length mirror that hangs behind my bedroom door. Very rarely used, this seemed the best place for it.

Already, I hate the sight of the person who stares back at me. Five foot three – a little taller with heels. The black pencil dress with large rose print I’ve settled for clings to my hips and enormous bum a little too much for my liking. I tell myself this is the exact reason I don’t do dresses. I note, once again, just how much my small breasts are out of proportion compared to my hips.

What the hell am I thinking?

Because the dress is a halter neck, I decide to pin my long, thick, black hair up into a twisted French pleat. Leaving a couple of strands down, on either side of my face, to act as my safety net. I can use them as curtains should I feel the need to hide.

My make-up is simple. Neutral eyes, with a hint of mascara, a bit of blush, and a little rose-tinted lip gloss to finish the look.

‘Why the hell are you bothering?’ I ask the woman in the mirror.

Suddenly, there is a car horn sounding outside. I grab my shawl and clutch off the bed.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, I give myself one last pep talk. ‘Well, here goes.’

As I open the passenger door to Ben’s red, two-seater convertible I’m greeted by the sound of a wolf whistle.

‘Down boy,’ I say through the grin now spread across my face as I try to lower myself gracefully and climb in.

We head off into the steady traffic of central London.

Trying to avoid thinking too much about the evening ahead, I zone out, entranced by the pulsing rhythm of streetlights as we race by. I feel Ben glance over at me several times.

‘You’re really worked up about this, aren’t you, babe?’ He looks concerned.

There’s no need for my response, he already knows the answer.

‘If you would only come out with me a bit more, even if it was just for the occasional quick pint, you probably wouldn’t get so worked up in situations like this.’

‘I know.’ I hang my head, feeling defeated before the evening has even begun.

Ben takes one hand off the steering wheel and grabs my hands.

‘This just isn’t me, Ben. I don’t do fancy dresses or posh meals out.’

‘Well, you really should. Life is too short to lock yourself away.’

I turn my head and look out of the passenger window.

‘Look, I’m right here, I’ll be right by your side,’ He gives my hands a little shake. ‘Just try to relax and enjoy the evening. Besides, the place isn’t really that fancy.’

‘Really?’ I perk up a little, slowly turning my gaze to look back at him again.

‘Really.’ He reassures me. ‘Just wish it wasn’t a Thursday night. At least I could have a bloody drink then.’

‘Oh, I forgot. No dirty play for you and any poor woman who may fall for your chat up lines tonight.’ I look my friend in the eye, giving him a wink. In return, this earns me a gentle slap on the knee.

The best way to describe Ben is as a player. He likes to have his cake and eat it too, and he very rarely eats the same cake twice.

It’s not long before Ben is pulling up to our destination. My eyes widen as realisation dawns inside me. Unfortunately, I know exactly where we are, and exactly how much of a liar my friend really is. I turn and give him the evil eye before looking outside again, hoping the place awaiting me will have somehow disappeared. Nope, it’s still there, damn it.

The Ritz.

I shrink down in my seat. ‘You said it wasn’t fancy.’ I punch the traitor’s arm.

‘Hey. A little white lie never hurt anyone.’

Before I can respond to this, the doorman opens the passenger door and I have no choice now other than to exit the vehicle.

The keys are handed over and Ben offers me his arm as a support. I hastily accept the gesture, grabbing hold for dear life. Partly, due to the height of the heels I’m wearing, but mostly because I need his strength.

Making our way in through the entrance, I feel myself shaking as I take in the high ceilings and ornate surroundings.

I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. I still can’t believe I’m actually inside the Ritz.

We head towards the Rivoli bar. I try to be discreet, clamping my mouth shut as I take in the astounding art deco décor; the golden floors and ceilings, the Grecian style artwork on the walls. The whole room unabashedly radiates nothing but opulence and glamour. Drawing my eyes away from a particularly interesting piece of artwork depicting Leda and The Swan, I see Mr Clark and Mr Owens already sat at the bar.

Ben pulls me in their direction. ‘Come on, babe. You’ll be fine.’

I give Mr Clark a quick peck on the cheek as Ben shakes hands with the man who brought us here.

Ben starts chatting to his dad and I go to shake Mr Owens’ hand as a greeting. He chooses to ignore this, avoiding my hand and moving forward to plant a simple kiss on my cheek instead. I feel his soft, wavy hair momentarily brush against my skin. A shiver runs down my spine, as though his lips had met with a much more sensitive patch of flesh. The thought hits me from nowhere and I do my best to hide the sensation. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to run my fingers through those waves, or to tug on them, gently.

The five o’clock shadow which adorned his face earlier that day has gone. His strong, square jawline is more prominent because of it, making the urge to trace my fingers along such a masculine, defined line, very appealing. But I know I can’t.

I take a quick glance at his outfit. Black suit and purple shirt. In that moment I take no more notice of his outfit than that. He has his shirt left open at the collar and I find myself transfixed to the small patch of skin left exposed. I know I should stop looking, but I can’t. I imagine planting a kiss on that spot, the dip between his collar bones, and inwardly I curse myself. My mind is chanting the words, way out of your league.

I search for something to say as the man before me studies my face.

‘Thank you for inviting me this evening, Mr Owens. It’s not every day that I’m asked to the Ritz.’ I blush slightly, chastising myself inside. What a stupid thing to say.

He beams with the most charismatic smile, the warmth in his expression only adding to his beauty.

‘Please, call me Evan, and it’s my pleasure. You look stunning, by the way.’

‘Thank you,’ I manage to squeak out. I lower my head as the blushing ensues in full force. I don’t know how to take such compliments, especially from a person such as this. From the corner of my eye I make out his frown and the narrowing of those piercing eyes. I look down again, feeling as though that emerald stare had the power to see through me somehow.

The four of us make our way to the dining room, and I stop dead in my tracks as I take in the sheer elegance of the large dining area. Numerous windows from ceiling to floor are interrupted by large marble columns and golden sconces along the walls. A large alfresco painting sits at the back of the room and acts as a backdrop to the large golden statues depicting numerous Grecian characters, all lounging in effortless splendour for the rest of the room to admire. Red back seats surround every table, with everything lit up like a stage by the most beautiful garland chandelier. I find it all so breathtaking.

I’m once again snapped out of my reverie as we’re shown to our table. Evan ushers the waiter away and pulls a chair out for me. I’d been hoping to sit between my boss and my friend, but no such luck. After I’m seated, Evan takes the seat on my left, with Mr Clark to my right, and Ben sits opposite, looking slightly disappointed.

I can’t help but ask myself how I’ll eat, sitting next to this gorgeous specimen of manhood. One that I have no right to be near, let alone breathe the same air as.

As it is, I find it relatively easy going. The three-course meal is exquisite and I drink a little too much, considering I’m more or less teetotal. I remain mostly silent throughout dinner, joining in when it can’t be avoided and laughing at the appropriate times.

All seems to be going well, until that damn question arrives – one that I can’t avoid answering.

Evan turns his head in my direction. ‘So, Louisa, how long have you and Ben been together?’

I hear Mr Clark chuckling and look across to my friend, who now sits with a rather large smirk on his face. It’s apparent he isn’t going to answer for me.

‘Oh, um…We’re not together. Just good friends, aren’t we, Ben?’ I shoot him a help me out look.

Finally Ben decides to speak; although I soon wish he hadn’t. ‘Alas, we are just friends, but it’s not through want of trying. And, believe me, I have tried.’

‘Ben.’ Mr Clark, quietly, but sternly, steps in on my behalf, trying to stop his son from saying anything further.

‘What, Dad? It’s the truth. You’ve always said to me that honesty is the best policy. And, the simple fact is that for the past eighteen months I’ve wanted very much to get into Louisa’s knickers.’

I stand suddenly and excuse myself from the table. Walking away from the group, I feel the heat rising further in my cheeks. I feel totally and utterly humiliated by my so-called friend’s ridiculous honesty. So much for his ‘I’m not drinking’ rubbish. And he wonders why I won’t go out for a drink with him.

I go in search of anywhere I can be alone to compose myself.

I hear footsteps behind me and my name being called. I really don’t want to turn around and face anyone right now.

A large hand firmly grasps mine and pulls me forcefully towards a corner.

I know who it is, even without looking. I can smell his masculine scent and feel his intoxicating presence.

We come to a stop somewhere, though I’m unsure where, as I’m not ready to lift my head just yet. I stare down at the plush carpet, but Evan’s unwilling to wait and he lifts my head with a gentle finger under my chin, looking deep into my eyes.

‘Are you OK?’ His tone is soft yet commanding, demanding nothing less than total honesty from me.

‘I’m OK, just a little –’ He cuts me off before I can finish.

‘Embarrassed by your friend?

‘Yes.’

‘Well, he is a little loud, but at least he’s honest. And probably highly intoxicated, so I wouldn’t be too hard on him.’ He gives a reassuring grin.

‘I guess so.’ I really don’t know where to look, anywhere would be better than gazing into this man’s penetrating eyes. I try for the floor again, tugging a few strands into place, to hide behind. But he refuses to let me do so and I feel that finger come back up to meet my chin again.

‘Look at me, Louisa.’ He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I gaze up at him. ‘I have suggested it might be best for your boss to take his son home. There should be a taxi waiting for them outside now.’

‘Thank you. I’d better go grab my things.’ I thank God that the evening has drawn to an end.

I go to walk back into the dining room, but Evan grabs my arm. ‘I was hoping you might stay and join me for a drink.’

He goes silent and waits patiently for my response. I feel his thumb move slowly back and forth on my arm, and my knees begin to feel a little weaker than usual at the skin to skin contact.

‘I think I should probably go.’ I try to think of a way to get out of the invite.

‘Please, just the one drink and I promise to ensure you get home safely.’ He holds his hands out as if begging.

I find myself slightly disappointed when his hand leaves my arm, but still, I can’t help but feel reluctant. I take a second to think while I look up at the emerald eyes gazing back at me, and for probably the first time in a very long time, I fight the urge to say no. Instead, I slowly reply, ‘OK. Just one drink.’

We head back to the Rivoli bar and take a seat in a quiet corner.

‘What can I get you to drink, Louisa?’

‘Umm, I don’t know, really.’ I already told myself earlier in the evening that I wasn’t going to have another.

‘I’ll surprise you.’

I watch as he walks away to the bar. I can’t help but wonder why he asked me to stay. I’m guessing it was probably out of pity.

He returns with what looks like a smoothie in a tall glass, but I’m assuming it must be a cocktail. I thank him before taking a sip through the straw.

My guess was right. I let out a small cough as the alcohol hits the back of my throat.

‘What’s in this?’ I croak out.

Evan takes a sip of his brandy before answering, ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. I asked the barman for a surprise.’ And there it is again, that beautiful carefree smile. Not only carefree but infectious, I feel myself smiling back in return.

Sitting across from me, Evan speaks, and I can’t help but feel like I’m in an interview.

‘So, Louisa, you were very quiet tonight.’

‘Was I? I’m sorry, I hadn’t realised.’ I lower my head, hoping he doesn’t see straight through my ridiculously blatant lie.

‘No need to apologise, I’m not criticising. It’s just a bit difficult to read someone who says so very little, and avoids any form of eye contact.’

‘Why do you feel the need to read me?’ I reply.

The conversation is getting a little too intense for my liking. I look anywhere other than at him. Still, I feel his eyes burning into me.

Even with my lowered gaze, I see him sit back in his chair.

‘OK, let’s try this from a different angle. You ask me a question, anything you want.’

This surprises me. I find the courage to look up at him. ‘What? Anything?’

‘Yes, anything. I am an open book.’ He appears so relaxed right now.

One question springs to mind. ‘Why was I invited here tonight?’

He leans forward in his chair and rests his elbows on his knees. The movement shows off the size of his muscular arms and I struggle not to lose focus. I find myself intensely curious as to his answer.

‘That’s a good one, and it has multiple answers. Reason one – I brought you out as a thanks to you and your employers for all the hard work that you’ve done, helping me sell my businesses and in divorcing my wife.’

The last bit I can’t help but pick up on. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about your divorce.’

He dismisses my response, waving a hand through the air. ‘Don’t be, she’s a callous, cold-hearted bitch. And I typically don’t like to speak about women in that way. But the marriage was as good as over the moment we said our vows.’

I study his face while he continues. He has such smooth skin and distinguishing features. Shoulder-length dark waves frame his strong jaw and emerald eyes beautifully. Occasionally, a few of the rebellious shorter strands fall forward before his eyes, skimming his well-defined cheek bones. But, unlike me, he doesn’t hide behind the inky strands, he continually runs a hand back as he speaks, flipping the lengths to the other side of his head, clearing the way for his gaze to meet mine. I quickly bring my thoughts back into focus a. . .