Fyre & Revenge

By Mina Carter

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This book is a
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Published
by:

Blue Hedgehog Press

Copyright 2012
by Mina Carter

Editor:
Craig Kim

Cover
Artist:
Mina Carter

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By Mina Carter

Men the world
over wanted to fuck Zette Matthews. The outrageously curvy singer
had a figure to tempt a saint and a voice that said dirty things.
Things that got a guy hot and hard just hearing her sing in that
come-to-bed voice. Jarrett Jensen, JJ to his friends, was one of
them. With one exception. He intended to make those fantasies a
reality.

He stood by the
window in his expansive office, hands shoved carelessly in his
pockets. The sharp suit he wore concealed a surprisingly muscled
frame, well for a businessman anyway. Especially one like JJ. A
rolling tsunami of sheer willpower, he appeared to exist solely in
the confines of boardrooms and business meetings, moving from one
to the next as he propelled Jensen Industries to the top of the
corporate ladder.

Somewhere,
somehow though, he found time to exercise. The hotels he chose to
stay in always had a top notch gym and a pool so he could siphon
off some of the energy that coursed through him daily. It had
gotten to the point years before where he’d learnt to force himself
into exercise, in an attempt to exhaust his body and, hopefully,
quell the endless activity of his agile mind.

It didn’t work
often though. He just added his daily workout to his schedule and
kept up the punishing routine that had gotten him to where he was
today. CEO of JI. There was even a rumour floating around the
Jensen head offices that JJ had ceased to need sleep a couple of
years ago, like some strange executive version of a vampire that
existed solely on a diet of coffee and sheer adrenalin.

It wasn’t quite
accurate but some days it seemed near enough to the truth.
Especially when he could almost smell the closure of a deal or a
takeover…pulling back-to-back meetings and all-nighters with an
ease that gave him an almost God-like reputation among the
executives in the company. One that was built on his own merits,
not just because he was the Old Man’s grandson. His lips quirked at
that thought; it had always been a battle of wills between them.
Even now that battle extended beyond the grave, Charles Jensen
still trying to rule JJ’s life. Well, no more. JJ was about to
wrest that power from him for good. The smile broadened as he
looked out onto the London skyline, enjoying a rare moment of
solitude and actual inactivity.

Time to
reflect.

Time to savour
his triumph as he killed two birds with one stone; getting one over
on the old man who’d ruled his orphaned grandson’s life with a rod
of iron and one on the woman who’d scorned and rejected him all
those years ago. Granted she’d been little more than a child then,
barely eighteen, but there were some things a man didn’t forget and
a rejection from a gold-digger was one of them.

His hazel eyes
glinted in satisfaction as he looked out the window. His attention
wasn’t on the view, fantastic as it was. He was used to stunning
views like this from every office and apartment he called his own.
Luxuries like that were just some of the perks of money.

But the view he
wanted to see wasn’t from a window. Behind him, spread open on the
expansive desk was a file containing the usual legal mumbo-jumbo he
navigated on a day-to-day basis. But in the middle of it all lay
the centre spread for one of the expensive glossy magazines. The
main picture was of Zette spread across a lush bed in one of her
trademark corsets, her hair spread around her like a cloak and a
sexy look in her come-hither eyes.
That
was the view JJ
wanted to see, in his own bed, and one he was intent on making a
reality very, very soon.

Provided of
course he got through this meeting alive. He had no doubt Zette
would be pissed when she stormed through those doors, intent on
giving him a right dressing down…he paused, corrected himself…no,
intent on giving the head of Anders Entertainment a right dressing
down. His lips curved in a wicked little smile. At this moment she
had no idea that the man she was expecting to see and JJ were one
and the same.

If she did, he
was fairly sure she’d refuse to show for the meeting she’d finally
managed to get with him, browbeating the receptionist on the front
desk and running the gauntlet with various people until she reached
his PA. Or at least the woman they’d assigned as his PA after his
swift and unpublicised takeover of Anders Entertainment two weeks
ago. His
deliberately
unpublicised takeover.

He had to
admire her persistence and determination though. It couldn’t have
been easy to get this morning’s appointment, especially when he’d
forbidden his new staff to agree to one until he gave the order. He
had to be sure he had everything set up before he sprung the trap.
He straightened as a car pulled into the entrance below,
disappearing under the canopy outside reception. She was here.

JJ smiled, his
voice soft in the large office. “Come into my parlour, said the
spider to the fly.”

* * *

She’d
arrived.

Zette took a
deep breath, mentally composing herself for the battle ahead as the
limo door opened. She hated riding in it, preferring to drive
herself. Except in London. She just didn’t have the aggressive
nature to cope with driving in London, getting flustered too
easily, so the limo it had to be. She slid to the edge of the seat,
reaching for the slim leather file next to her, the heavy silver
bangle on her wrist peeking out from under her cuff for a second as
she slid from the vehicle with well-practised ease.

Rockstar 101,
she thought with a smile as she realised she’d clenched her knees
together, crossing them on automatic as though she was wearing a
micro miniskirt with a horde of photographers all eager to discover
what colour her panties were for tomorrow's headline photo. She
shuddered, well used to that sort of human piranha; glad that today
at least, she could get out of a vehicle without getting blinded by
flashes. She stood, smiling at the chauffeur as he got the door for
her. They’d have been disappointed today anyway; Zette’s voluptuous
figure was encased in a rather severe business suit.

It was an
effort to fit into the world she had to deal with today to save her
Midsummer
Night’s
Dream
concert from
being a ‘failed before it got started’ effort rather than the
raging success she wanted it to be. Knew it was going to be.

Everyone liked
a charity concert, it made them feel good to be doing something for
a good cause and she’d put a lot of effort into making sure that
all the money collected would be going to the various chosen
causes. With the line-up she had organised, it should be a
resounding success. It couldn’t possibly be anything else.

The trouble
was, with the suit on and her mass of sable hair scraped back into
a businesslike pleat, she felt completely out of place. Like a
young girl playing dress up with her mother’s clothing and
pretending to be all grown up.

She sighed and
tugged at the jacket, smoothing it over her ample hips and wishing
she was dressed in her usual comfortable jeans. Her fingers brushed
the steel bones of the corset she wore, almost hidden under the
severe jacket and she smiled. Her confidence returned at the small
reminder of who she was, adding an extra sassy sway to her walk as
she headed into the reception hall.

“Zette
Matthews, I have an appointment at eleven with Mr. Anders,” she
announced to the young blonde on reception, hiding a smile at the
younger woman’s double take as she heard Zette’s distinctive smoky,
sultry voice and connected it with the rather petite woman who
stood in front of her.

Zette ignored
the look, used to it by now. People always seemed to expect her to
be taller.

Probably
because her stage persona was so much larger than life, her singing
voice on the lusty side of powerful.

“Oh yes!
Welcome to Anders Entertainment, Ms. Matthews! We didn’t expect to
see you just yet,” she admitted, explaining some of her surprise to
see Zette, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall.

It read five to
eleven.

Zette sighed
mentally. Along with expecting her to be taller there were also
those who expected her to be the prima-donna stereotype just
because she was a celebrity. Continually late, temper tantrums,
etc. It was a misconception that totally got on Zette’s nerves. She
never had been the sulky rock-chick type and she didn’t intend to
start any time soon.

She hid her
irritation well and smiled. “I always like to be early for an
appointment,” she admitted. “I know I get cranky if I’m waiting on
someone, doesn’t seem fair to expect them to wait for me.”

“Of course, of
course. If you’ll just take a seat for a moment, I’ll call up to
Mr. Je… I mean Mr. Anders’s assistant. Can I get you anything
whilst you wait? Tea, coffee…” She trailed off, looking at Zette
expectantly, the receptionist patter honed to perfection.

“No, thank you,
I’m good.” Zette replied on automatic, moving over to take a seat
and admiring the view from the wall to wall windows overlooking a
rather nice landscaped garden. She liked gardening. After the
hectic whirlwind her life became sometimes it was nice to grub
around in the dirt weeding. Plants didn’t care who or what she was,
they didn’t ask questions or flash cameras at her and sometimes she
needed that tranquillity.

She really
didn’t expect to be kept waiting long. To do that would be
incredibly rude, not to mention could damage future relations, she
mused. Although she was here today to discuss a charity, aka
non-profit, event, one for which Anders Entertainment had pledged
the use of Swithland Park, there was also the fact that Zette was
an artist in her own right. One who toured frequently. Tours that
were not charity events and would also need venues.

She just hoped
this guy remembered that, and she could use that bit of leverage to
her advantage. Tucking the file with her papers in by her thigh she
checked covertly around, to see if anyone was watching her. The two
receptionists were intent on the screens in front of them and the
rest of the entrance lobby was empty. Zette felt safe to wriggle a
little, using her jacket to cover as she rearranged her corset a
little to display her cleavage to its best advantage.

Never pass up a
little va-va-voom, you never knew when it might come in handy. Of
course, she didn’t expect this Anders to be some handsome young
stud but hopefully he wouldn’t be that far into his dotage that she
couldn’t indulge in a little light-hearted flirtation. A flirtation
that, with the solid facts and figures her team had prepared, would
hopefully ease whatever worries he had over hosting
Midsummer
Night’s
Dream
at
Swithland.