Uriah's Heart Read online

  URIAH’S HEART

  BY

  ZENA WYNN

  © 2019

  Uriah’s Heart

  I am the king of my world. My business makes millions. I had everything at the tip of my fingers until the woman I loved turned in her two weeks' notice. She wants marriage and a family, and feels she can’t have it working for me. I’m not letting her go. She’ll have everything her heart desires, but it will be on my terms, not hers.

  A Real Love Enterprises Publication

  Uriah’s Heart

  ISBN 978-1-7333670-0-4

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Uriah’s Heart

  Copyright © July 2019 by Zena Wynn

  Cover art: Beauty by Vee

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Real Love Enterprises, PO Box 12003, Jacksonville, FL 32209.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Chapter One

  Maze

  The nearly full cardboard box sat on top of my desk. Only one item remained. I picked up the framed picture and stood staring at it for a full minute before slowly lowering it into the box. A final glance around revealed that was it. All of my personal possessions had been removed.

  The heavy weight of grief sat on my chest. For over a decade, this job had been my life. I’d spent more time with the people here than with family and friends. I was going to miss the hectic pace of it all, but it had to be done. I had to sever the umbilical cord chaining me to this place. I had dreams and goals. Things I wanted in my personal life that just couldn’t be gained as long as I worked here.

  It was time to go. I place my hands on the box in preparation for hefting it when Uriah Baine, my former employer, darkened my doorway. He gazed at me with his intense, penetrating eyes. “Is this it? Sure you won’t change your mind?”

  I shook my head, too choked up to respond verbally. Blinking rapidly to dissipate the moisture I felt gathering, I slid my purse strap over my shoulder and once more reached for the box.

  “I’ll get it,” Uriah said. He came forward and plucked up the box before I could protest. “Lead the way.”

  Unable to delay my departure any longer, I squared my shoulders and marched towards the door. We walked side by side, neither one of us speaking until we reached my car. I pushed the fob to open the trunk. Uriah placed the box next to the other items I’d removed from the office.

  “I never realized you had so much stuff,” he said, gesturing to the neatly ordered stacks.

  “Neither did I until I had to pack it all up. I’ve been removing items all week,” I said.

  Uriah closed the lid and then leaned on the car, his pose relaxed. “Come out with me. One final drink with the boss, for old time’s sake.”

  Sniffing, I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. This is difficult enough as it is.”

  “Please, Maze. You owe me this much, at least. I promise not to try and change your mind again.” It was as close to pleading as I’d ever heard from him. Uriah Baine did not beg. He ordered. He commanded. He never asked.

  Besides, he was right. Uriah had given me a shot at being his personal assistant when others would have laughed in my face. He’d risen from obscurity to the top of the business world, taking me with him. The least I could do was have one final drink with him.

  “Okay.”

  He grinned. A predatory flash of teeth that had I been more alert, would have warned me. It’s the same grin he wore when he’d just negotiated a particularly tricky business deal in his favor. “Lock your car. We can go across the street to The Jameson.”

  The Jameson was a high end hotel with a bar and restaurant on the bottom floor. We’d frequently entertained clients and celebrated closing major deals there in its beautiful surroundings. It was a fitting end for our business relationship.

  Uriah placed a hand on the lower end of my back and escorted me to our destination. For a Friday night, the place was busy but not packed. He found us a quiet two-seater table in a corner.

  “I’ll get our drinks. Strawberry daiquiri?” he asked.

  Today was all about change, wasn’t it? A new job which would hopefully lead to a new life? No more ruts? “Surprise me. Just make sure it’s fruity.”

  Uriah’s dark eyes gleamed approvingly. “Be right back.”

  I sighed heavily and glanced around. I’d miss all of this when I was gone, but it couldn’t be helped. As I’d told Uri, I had dreams and goals that simply couldn’t be accomplished working for him.

  Uriah returned and slid a frothy, orange colored drink in front of me. The top was garnished with pineapple and cherries, and what looked like a sprig of mint. He had his usual glass of scotch on the rocks.

  “What’s this?” Not being much of a drinker, I’d learned to consume the occasional glass of wine or daiquiri at business functions to fit in. It was easier to get a drink and sip on it all night rather than constantly explain why I wasn’t drinking. I’ve never understood why people who don’t drink make folks who do so uncomfortable.

  “The bartender called it a Zombie. It has orange, pineapple and lime juices in it. If you don’t like it, I can get you something else,” he said.

  I took a sip. The sweet and sour taste of the fruit juice exploded in my mouth. It went down smoothly, and I didn’t taste any alcohol, at all. “This is really good.”

  Uriah loosened his tie and settled into his seat, the picture of masculine relaxation. He was in his late forties, and it showed in the silver at his temples and the salt-and-pepper in his neatly trimmed moustache and beard. Uriah Baine might be a businessman who spent most of his time surviving in the corporate jungle, but he had the body of an athlete. Paired with reddish brown hair, golden brown eyes, and a face that would make the angels sing, and it was no wonder he was considered the city’s most eligible bachelor.

  He smiled and took a swallow of his drink. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Distracted from my examination of his masculine beauty, I blankly echoed, “Plan?”

  “Yes, Maze. What’s your game plan? I assume you have one. Otherwise, how do you expect to accomplish your goals?” he asked.

  I took another sip of my drink and let my gaze drift around the room, not wanting to share. Yes, I had a list of objectives I planned to achieve and had written down steps to accomplish them. If I told him, Uriah would think it was crazy. He didn’t know the statistics concerning a woman of my race and age meeting an eligible man for the purpose of matrimony.

  He nudged my hand. “Hey, is it top secret? Is that why you’re being reticent?”

  Mentally, I cursed. I should have just blurted it out like it was no big deal. By hesitating, I’d heightened his interest. The man was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something�
�rabid.

  Meeting his gaze, I feigned nonchalance. “Not a secret. I just know you won’t approve. I signed up with a dating agency. Once they finish vetting me, I’ll be matched with potential mates. They use a scientific system to determine compatibility based on various factors like personality and life experience.”

  Uriah’s eyes narrowed and the line of his jaw hardened. “A matchmaking agency? How much are they bilking you for their services? If you insist on doing this, why don’t you try meeting guys the old fashioned way?”

  I pointed my straw at him, and then quickly licked the end before the drink that was in it could spill onto the table. “That’s my business. Whatever the cost, it’s worth it to me to know they do full background checks on all of their clients before signing them on. I don’t have time to play the dating game, searching for a prince among frogs. I’m thirty-five. My biological clock is ticking. I’d like to be a mother one day.”

  He scoffed. “You have plenty of time yet to be a mother.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Spoken like a man. Not all of us have the capacity to sire children into our eighties. I’d like to be young enough to enjoy motherhood, thank you very much.”

  Uriah rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “What happens if you don’t find your prince?”

  Dropping my gaze to the table, I told him, “I’ve been researching artificial insemination.”

  “A sperm bank?” I heard the surprise and disgust in his tone.

  “It’s an option.” My tone was belligerent, daring him to say something negative.

  “If you want a baby that bad, come to me. I’ll father it,” he said.

  “Uh-huh. Sure you will.” I rolled my eyes. The straw made a sucking sound as I drained the rest of the glass.

  Uriah motioned. “Want another one?”

  “Sure, why not?” I wouldn’t get plastered on two drinks, though my normal limit was one. Even if I did, I trusted Uriah not to let me drive home in that condition.

  He returned with second rounds for both of us and stood by the table. “Let’s go into the restaurant. Neither one of us has eaten dinner. I’m hungry.”

  I slid off the high stool and followed him. When we were seated and had ordered, he said, “What happened to old what’s his name? I thought you two were getting serious.”

  I had to think. “Daniel? That relationship ended five years ago.”

  Daniel hadn’t liked that my job was more important than him. He’d also been jealous of Uriah and nothing I said could convince him that my relationship with my boss was strictly professional.

  Uriah Baines was a busy man. As his personal assistant, I frequently worked twelve to fourteen hour days, six or seven days a week. I’d been handsomely compensated for my time, but it didn’t leave much room for a personal life.

  He drummed his fingers on the table. “I didn’t know. If you thought the job was taking up too much of your time, you should have said something. I would have shortened your hours.”

  I shifted the silverware around and toyed with the cloth napkin. “It wasn’t an issue before.”

  “But it’s an issue now?”

  I glanced at him, met his hard stare, and then turned my profile to him. Damn it. Why did I feel like I was breaking up with my boyfriend? Uri and I didn’t have a romantic relationship. That was the problem.

  “Look, Uri. I love...the work that I do for you. If I stay, even if you reduce my worktime to a typical nine-to-five, I’d eventually go right back to working the same long hours as before.” I forced myself to meet his gaze, hoping the feelings I’d suppressed for years didn’t show on my face. “What I need is a clean break.”

  Laughing at myself in an effort to keep from crying, I acknowledged I’d become a cliché. I’d fallen deeply in love with the boss, like something out of a cheesy romance novel. Though I’d done my best to bury my feelings, over the years they’d grown stronger. It was getting harder and harder to keep from blurting out the truth, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?

  “That’s what you say, but you haven’t given it a try,” he argued.

  Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, held it a few seconds before releasing it on a sigh. “Uriah, you promised.”

  “Fine.” He reclined in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he pinned me with a glare. “I’ll leave it for now, but this isn’t finished. You’re the best personal assistant I’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose you. What will it take to get you to change your mind?”

  Your heart, I thought. Give me your heart. I smiled sadly, knowing it would never happen. Uriah was a confirmed bachelor. He had many lovers, but no one he was serious about. I’d never registered as a woman on his radar. It was one of the reasons we worked so well together. Women between the ages of eighteen and fifty tended to make a fool out of themselves when he was around.

  “Nothing,” I said finally. “My mind’s made up. I’m going home for a week to visit the folks. Then I start my new position the week after.”

  He scowled. “I can’t believe Henderson finally managed to steal you away from me, after years of trying. What did he offer you?”

  Our food arrived. Steak and potatoes for Uriah and seafood and a salad for me. It all looked delicious. Unfortunately, I had zero appetite. I pointed my fork at him before spearing a golden fried shrimp. “That’s confidential information.”

  He gave me a sly grin that made my panties wet. Bastard. “Come on, Maze. You can tell me.”

  I drained half of my drink, noting the fruit taste went well with my dinner choice. “No, I can’t. I signed a confidentiality agreement. Even if I hadn’t, you know I don’t spill other people’s secrets.”

  I’d kept all of his. It’s one of the reasons I was his most trusted employee. I knew how to keep my mouth shut.

  We ate in silence. I was acutely aware this was my last opportunity to be with Uriah like this. We’d eaten so many meals and spent so much time together over the last decade that he’d begun introducing me as his work wife. The title pleased me even as it hurt.

  The waiter returned to check on us. “Is everything to your liking?”

  “Yes. Can you have the sommelier bring us a bottle of wine?” Uriah said.

  “Right away, sir,” the waiter said and walked off.

  “Wine?” I asked, eyebrow arched.

  Uriah shrugged. “It’s our last night together. Might as well live it up.”

  I finished off the Zombie and set the glass to the side. “You know you’re going to have to pour me into a cab when this is over. No way will I be able to drive.”

  His eyes gleamed at me. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  It must be the alcohol that had me reading more into his statement than intended. Whatever the case, for once in my life, I was going to live it up. Throw caution to the wind. Tonight, I was severing all ties with the love of my life. If I needed a little liquid courage to help me to get through it, so be it.

  Chapter Two

  Uriah

  I was destined for Hell. Old slew foot himself would welcome me with arms wide open. That knowledge didn’t change my intentions one bit.

  “Drink water. Alcohol dehydrates you,” I urged as the sommelier poured two glasses of wine, and on my instructions, left the bottle at the table. I wanted Maze drunk enough to lower her inhibitions but not so inebriated that she wasn’t capable of decision making.

  I watched over her carefully, making sure she ate all of her food and drank plenty of water, even as I nudged the glass of wine in her direction. After twelve years of knowing me, you’d think Maze would be more wary. I was relentless when I wanted something and who I wanted was her. It’s a damned shame it took Maze rendering her two weeks’ notice for me to realize it.

  Yeah, I’m a moron. I admit it. The woman I love has been sitting right under my nose for years, and I was too dense to realize it. If I blurted out the truth now, she’d never believe me. Maze would think it was just a ploy to get her to remain in my
employ. I’d like to say I wouldn’t use her feelings for me to get my way, but it would be a lie. I’m just ruthless enough to do it, and she knows it.

  The Bastard. That’s what they call me when they think I can’t hear them. It’s a title I wear with pride. You don’t get to the top by being Mr. Nice Guy. I’ve stomped on a few hands and kicked people’s legs from underneath them to achieve the success I’ve gained. However it might appear to the contrary, I followed my own code of ethics and there were lines I refused to cross.

  Until now.

  When we finished our entrées, I ordered dessert. Maze loved cheesecake. Tonight, I was pulling out all of the stops and using every dirty trick in my arsenal to make this night end the way I intended. Didn’t they say all was fair in love and war? She’d forgive me, eventually.

  When the meal ended, Maze stood and swayed slightly before bracing her hands on the table. Gradually, she straightened. “While you pay the check, I need to use the restroom.”

  “Are you okay?” Had I overdone it with the Zombies? I’d told the bartender I wanted something fruity with high alcohol content. He’d done the rest.

  Maze giggled. “I feel wonderful. Just sat too long. Don’t worry. I’ll gain my sea legs soon.”

  I held in my smirk until her back was turned. Maze wobbled a little but corrected her bearings before she’d taken more than a few steps. Not drunk but definitely impaired. After sliding my credit card into the folder, I held it up to catch the waiter’s attention. I needed to be ready to go when Maze returned. Otherwise, she might get it into her head that it was time to go home, and I wasn’t finished with her yet.

  Maze took so long in the restroom, I’d paid the check and stood by the table waiting when I spotted her returning. She was slender but curvy in all the right places. Maze burned so much nervous energy she could eat like a horse and not gain an ounce. She’d taken down the bun she had her brown hair gathered in, and the tendrils fell in waves around her shoulder and face.