Sharp Curves (Clearwater Curves Book 3)
Sharp Curves
A Clearwater Curves Novella
C.M. Steele
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Copyrighted © 2018
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Elisa Leigh
Cover Image: Deposit Photos
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows, and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
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This book is intended for mature adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. Suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Adult Erotic Romance.
Prologue
Stella
I rush out of my gallery, leaving my new receptionist to lock up. I look at my watch to see I’m running late. I’m never late for anything. It’s very unprofessional, and first impressions are everything, especially when it comes to working.
I can’t believe I’m going to a weight loss meeting. I’ve never done something like that before. I feel like a fool coming here. “Hi, I’m Stella, and I manage everything in my life except for my weight,” I mutter to myself.
To top it all off, I’m running late. I had a last-minute client who thought that my curves were just perfect for him. I hate people sometimes. Why can’t I just be around people who are likeminded? I get to the door and see a group of women already sitting down. Shit balls. I’m never late, and this is starting to piss me off. I don’t like it one bit. I don’t want to hear anyone’s mouth. I hope they don’t give me attitude. I’ve been harassed enough for one day. I smile weakly, giving way to my apology. “Sorry, I’m late. I had a client that took a while.”
I don’t know what to make of the women around me. They’re all pretty in one way or another. I guess we’re all in the same place for the same thing, so I should be able to stay confident. “Oh, that’s okay Stella dear…” the weight loss expert says.
She’s cut off by another woman who doesn’t look like she belongs here. I wonder if she’s got some sort of crazy idea that she needs to lose weight. “The meeting started fifteen minutes ago.” This bitch needs to take her ass to her yoga class, maybe it’ll loosen her up. She looks to be about one hundred and ten soaking wet. She’s giving all of us a look as if she’s smelling shit. I’ve had a rough day, and this broad isn’t going to like where she’s taking me.
I return my own scathing look, refusing to hold back I spit out, “I said I was sorry, I’m not going to say it again.” My teeth grind against each other as I think about punching her snobby face in.
“Preach it, sister,” one of the other women adds in, making me laugh.
She scoffs at us, and then starts her tirade, “That’s the problem with you people.”
“She did not just say, you people. Tell me I’m hearing things and this bitch isn’t starting something she can’t finish.”
Crossing her arms, the woman walks towards us. “You want to know why you’ll never look like me?”
“Not really,” Fancy says looking pissed.
“It’s people like you who sit on your fat ass every day, binge eating carbs, complaining about your bodies and never doing anything about it that proves my point. Fat people are lazy and gross. You make me sick.”
Seconds later, the one who cheered me on decked the skinny bitch, laying her out flat on her back. As she holds her face, screaming nonsensical threats, I lean down over her, and leave her with a warning, “Listen up cunt bag. I’m proud of my “fat ass.” You have no idea who I am or what you’re dealing with, so watch yourself.”
A few minutes later, I’m introduced to the crew and laughing as we hit the parking lot. Avery, Fancy, Lanie and I stop to talk about the boxing match. “I can’t believe you hit her,” I say, shaking my head.
“I can’t believe you called her a cunt bag,” Lanie snorts out.
“I hate bitches like that. How’s your hand doing?” Fancy asks.
“I need a taco and a margarita. Who’s in?”
“What about your hand? You need to get it looked at.” I insist. It looks swollen.
“I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve hit somebody, probably won’t be the last.” I was hoping to meet like-minded people, and like that, I found three of them. This is great. Tacos and booze are just what I need.
Chapter 1
Domani
Four years later…
I sit at my computer screen counting the hours down before I see her. Just one more day, and I will finally see her confident beauty in person. I will be able to smell the sweet scent of the vanilla and cherry blossom she wears. I know…how can I know what perfume she wears? Well, I know more about her than I should. Two long months ago, my family asked to set up an art expo tour of our family’s historical collection. I started looking for galleries, and that was when I came upon Sharp Curves Gallery. The second I saw her bio with her picture, I began planning to learn everything I could. She goes out to drink with her girlfriends once a week for fun but spends most of her time working or reading on the beach. She has no idea how sexy she is. My chief security manager has been keeping track of her. He’s sent me random images of her smiling. That’s something I can’t get enough of.
It makes me more than happy to know she’s not seeing anyone. I should feel like a stalker, but I’m not invading her private life. I just have Andrea there to make sure she’s safe. Never has he interfered with her life. Even if she had someone, I wouldn’t have him break them up. Granted, I cannot say that I wouldn’t fly down and break them up, morals be damned.
There’s a camera set outside the gallery and Andrea has tapped into the feed. I take in the sight of her as she walks up to her building.
Stella is a treasure I would give everything for. Her confidence radiates from her. “It’s time to become mine, tesoro mio,” I whisper as I kiss her framed photo. Dio, I’m insane.
“Domani, sei pronto?”
“Si. I’m ready,” I tell my brother Demetrio.
&
nbsp; “Andiamo allora,” he exclaims. I need to get to the airport. I shut down my laptop and pack it in my carry on, then leave my office.
“Are you done drooling over your Principessa?”
“One day Demetrio…one day.”
“When I meet her? I will not wait two months.”
“Forgive me, but I cannot just leave my business to travel the world.”
“Alas, then you need a better job,” he says, rubbing it in that he has flexibility where I have stability.
“Fuck off.”
“Eloquent, brother. It will win your American woman,” he teases. I let the past months get to me. I’ve gone insane because she doesn’t even know who I am, yet I’ve planned out our future together.
Chapter 2
Stella
I hiss at my alarm clock as it goes off on time. What the heck? Can’t a girl get any sleep around here? I hit it off, tempted to toss it across the room, but then I remember I’m a responsible adult, and I’ll need the damn noisy thing for tomorrow.
Usually, I don’t mind waking up at the ass-crack of dawn for work because I do what I love, but today’s a whole different story. Yesterday was the fourth of July and a Wednesday. Of course, that doesn’t stop any of us from partying. Lanie and her man, Wyatt tied the knot on the beach front. It was amazingly perfect.
Between the fireworks going off in the wee hours of the night and thoughts of making a great impression on the De Luca Family, I couldn’t sleep. Now, when I have one of the most important meetings, I’m like a zombie with a slight headache dancing around my eyes and sour stomach. I am meeting with Domani De Luca, a man as successful as he is gorgeous. Could I be any more out of my element?
I crawl out of bed, then walk into the kitchen and hit brew. I’m thankful, I prepared it the second I got home last night. A girl needs her coffee. I don’t know how I would function without it. Especially when today is the most important day in forever. I have to admit that I have a serious crush on Domani even though we have never met.
While it’s brewing, I hop into the shower. I should have scheduled the meeting for another day. Unfortunately, the deal is too good to pass up. They’re bringing a showcase of art from Italy and are traveling to the United States just for it. The man has meetings with several art galleries around the country in a sweet expo tour that will be finalized with an auction.
As I towel off, I wrap my blonde hair with another towel. The hairstyling process is a long one, but so worth it. With the heat and humidity, I’ll have a frizz fest, so I must take loving tender care of my hair. It takes a little longer, but I want to look presentable. With my size sixteen ass, I need to maintain a sleek, professional appearance. It’s why I have most of the clients that galleries would kill to have.
Two hours later and I’m ready. I look in the mirror at my black suit dress that hugs every inch of my curves. My abs are tight enough that I don’t have a bulge bursting through the middle. I have a stylist that picks clothes just for my body type. It really helps my confidence, something I’ve never had outside of my gallery.
Most days, I carry myself well. There’s just one area that I can’t maintain confidence—the dating arena. I’ve only had one serious boyfriend, but he and I never went the whole nine yards. I couldn’t get comfortable around him. He claimed that he adored me, but after two months of dating, I learned that I was a bet. He claims that he fell in love with me as a person, but he wasn’t attracted to me sexually. I have to admit that I’m a lot of fun when I let my hair hang down, but I called bullshit on that especially when I caught him screwing a broad in his car. A paid whore to boot. I got a glimpse of what I never saw before and realized why he couldn’t handle my ass. I don’t think his little dick could get past my barrier. I still laugh about it. The fucker made me feel like the problem, but his shortcomings were to blame.
I park my cute black Mercedes I bought myself in front of the gallery. I’m early, but from the look of the man standing in front of my gallery door, I’m late. Holy hell, Domani De Luca is more stunning in person than the pictures online show. I mean they photoshop that shit, but this is the real deal, and the man is ridiculously hot, even with his scowl. “Can I help you, sir?”
“You’re late.”
“Um. I’m not. I check my watch and phone. Both say eight ten.” Holy fuck, he’s a super dick. I’m so pissed that I wasted good sleeping time thinking about him. I want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.
“Were you still in bed with your lover?” he questions with scrunching his brows and a barely veiled level of anger or jealousy which I can’t fathom it being true. He must be cranky from being jet-lagged. There’s no way he’s interested in me.
He moves closer, invading my space. My breathing picks up because I can feel the air between us getting heavy. I thrust my chin toward him as he looks down at me desire in his chocolate eyes. I do my best, stammering out, “Excuse me, sir, but we don’t openly speak about our lovers to strangers.” He cocks his brow at me as if he’s unsatisfied with my answer. I need to break up the tension between us. I step back and stick out my hand for a shake. “I’m Stella Sharp. You must be Mr. Domani De Luca?”
He takes, and I know that I’ve made a mistake. Electricity shoots through my hand and straight to my core. I’m melting as I stand here. He takes my hand and raises it to his lips. I contain the shiver up into my pussy. “I am. So you were not alone in bed.” The man is as persistent as he is good looking.
He has on a black suit that is tailored perfectly to fit his form. He folds his arms across his chest, and I can see the strength in his biceps as the material pulls against them. He’s more formidable than any man I’ve ever met.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was alone,” I inform him with a dirty glare. I may be a big girl, but damn he makes me look small.
“Bueno, Cara.” His eyes roam sensually over my body. A dreadful thought hits my brain. I know exactly what he’s thinking. It’s a terrible rumor an industry rival put out there when I refused his advances. He claimed that I had achieved my success by sleeping with clients. Those who had worked with me knew it was a lie, but new clients either eyed me with a level of distrust until the deal was completed successfully or some would flat out offer a bonus if I’d fuck them. Those clients were shown the door.
I take a step past him to unlock the gallery, shaking as I slip the key into the door. I feel his breath on my neck, telling me that he has no intention of giving me any space. I find it unfathomable for him to be interested in more than just a fun hookup, but this woman didn’t wait her entire life to surrender her v-card for a one-night stand. I just met the man. I find him rude and arrogant, yet I’m so tempted. He’s the typical tall, dark, and handsome foreigner with a gravelly, thick accent and muscular build. He could handle my weight easily.
I hit the security panel with my personal code, then I turn on the light before spinning to confront my sexy, brutish client. “Mr. De Luca, the rumors about me aren’t true, so please don’t treat me like I’m easy. I don’t appreciate it or respect it.”
A low grumble erupts from his chest, he leans forward with an air of domination and tips my chin to look up at him. The feel of his fingers on me is heavenly. In a hushed warning, he says, “Bella ragazza. I don’t believe everything I hear. I must say that I can see why men are attracted to you, but I do not care for it, not one bit.” I can see he’s serious, but his eyes have not stopped looking at me like I’m prey.
“Mr. De Luca. Please,” I warn him. It’s terrible that the first man I want to look at me like that is a client or at least a soon-to-be client. His collection is precious and a part of Italian history. It’s a score for my gallery. I have worked hard over the past six years to have clients of his caliber. Now it can all be ruined with lust. Lust, I’m doing my best to ignore, but the man can seduce a houseplant.
Chapter 3
Domani
“Mr. De Luca. Please,” she utters with her pouty red lips. I h
ave no idea what the rumors are, but it is clear they are about her intimacies. Internally, I am seething. My possessive need for her only makes this revelation worse. Who would dare lay a hand on her? She belongs to me. She does not know it yet, but I will not allow anyone to touch her ever again.
“Please, what, Stella?” I impress, moving closer to her so that our bodies are almost touching.
“I’m not interested in you, and it’s clear that you’re acting oblivious to that fact.” She practically sneers at me, but I let it go. She takes a step back from me which doesn’t upset me. For all the refusal in her words, her body gives away her secrets. My persistence is the reason I am so successful. I have never let something I want to get away from me. And for the first time, that determination will be on a woman.
“Amore mia, I’m doing no such thing. I must say that I’m intrigued by your beauty, and I can tell that you’re intrigued by me as well. However, all good things must come to those who wait. For now, let us discuss business. I’m only in town for today before I fly to my next gallery for a review of the plans and possible contract.” I see a brief look of sadness before it’s masked with a professional strength. I don’t want to leave her at all. Fuck, I wish I could get it over and done within a day that way I could have more time by her side.
“Very well, Mr. De Luca, please follow me.” The central reception area is only blocked off by an opened bamboo wall. We veer off to the right where there is a large open floor plan. Further back is another divider wall with more gallery space. We reach a locked metal door that she enters a passcode into a panel on the wall. It’s the large storage area. It smells like boxes and sawdust. We walk past a few crates another door on the right. This is her office which is decorated with lovely black and white portraits of landscapes. They are just store-bought poster prints, but they do give the room a refreshing vibe.
“Mr. De Luca, please take a seat.”