Snowed in with the Boss The Snowed

In Series 1st Edition Matilda Martel &

Flirt Club
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmeta.com/product/snowed-in-with-the-boss-the-snowed-in-series-1st-edi
tion-matilda-martel-flirt-club/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Snowed In With The Villain The Snowed In Series 1st

Edition M.K. Moore & Flirt Club

https://ebookmeta.com/product/snowed-in-with-the-villain-the-
snowed-in-series-1st-edition-m-k-moore-flirt-club/

Pucking Snowed In With My Ex Pucking Snowed In 1 1st

Edition Brooklyn Cross

https://ebookmeta.com/product/pucking-snowed-in-with-my-ex-
pucking-snowed-in-1-1st-edition-brooklyn-cross/

Mile High Senator: Mile High Love 1st Edition Matilda

Martel & Flirt Club

https://ebookmeta.com/product/mile-high-senator-mile-high-
love-1st-edition-matilda-martel-flirt-club/

Snowed in with the Bodyguard 1st Edition Fern Fraser

https://ebookmeta.com/product/snowed-in-with-the-bodyguard-1st-
edition-fern-fraser/
Snowed in With the Grump 1st Edition Kat Baxter

https://ebookmeta.com/product/snowed-in-with-the-grump-1st-
edition-kat-baxter/

Snowed In at the Movie Set Snowed In for Christmas 1st

Edition Erica Penrod

https://ebookmeta.com/product/snowed-in-at-the-movie-set-snowed-
in-for-christmas-1st-edition-erica-penrod/

Snowed In With The Villian 1st Edition M K Moore

https://ebookmeta.com/product/snowed-in-with-the-villian-1st-
edition-m-k-moore/

Bad Boss 1st Edition Matilda Martel

https://ebookmeta.com/product/bad-boss-1st-edition-matilda-
martel/

Snowed In with Search Rescue 1st Edition Kameron Claire

https://ebookmeta.com/product/snowed-in-with-search-rescue-1st-
edition-kameron-claire/
Copyright © 2022 by Matilda Martel

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without
written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination
or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
Cover Design: Poppy’s Premades
 CONTENTS
Summary

1. Levi
2. Phoebe
3. Levi
4. Levi
5. Phoebe
6. Phoebe
7. Levi
8. Phoebe
9. Levi
10. Phoebe
11. Levi
12. Levi
13. Phoebe- Two Years Later

About the Author

Also by Matilda Martel
SUMMARY

He's a reformed bad boy with a long-term plan to win the girl he loves. She's a clueless good girl
trying to forget a momentary lapse of reason. When a blizzard traps them together, will a big
romantic gesture be enough to heat things up?

Levi Chamberlain never thought he’d settle down. Handsome and rich, he’s traveled the world and
lived exactly as he wanted. When his father passes, he takes one last nostalgic trip down memory lane
to a mountain resort his father loved. While there, he meets Phoebe Love--- a quirky girl who wants a
wild fling to shake up her sensible life.
After one hot, memorable night, they part ways. Phoebe returns to New York, and Levi secretly
follows--- waiting for his second chance to win Phoebe’s heart.
Phoebe Love doesn’t think she’s built for relationships. Her wealthy parents tried to convince her
she was only fit to be a lady of leisure, but she tried her best to prove them wrong. She can’t let a
temporary slip-up or a momentary indiscretion with a gorgeous stranger stop her from reaching her
goals.
It’s best to put it all behind her--- except he won’t go away.
In a city of eight million, Levi Chamberlain finds a way to be around every corner.
He moves nearby. Frequents the same coffee shop. Shows up to the same bars. Then tricks her
into accepting a new position, a once-in-a-lifetime job, days before he’s officially named CEO.
She should walk away. But it’s the best job, with the best title and salary she’s ever had. If she
can only resist the hot man down the hall a little longer, everything will work out.
But mother nature throws a wrench in her plans.
A polar vortex blows in and shuts the Northeast down. Alone in another city, Phoebe’s cold,
hungry, and scared out of her wits. Until the boss she loves to hate shows up and saves the day.
Will he win her heart?
CHAPTER 1
LEVI
MOUNTAIN RIDGE RESORT, VIRGINIA

“SAY THE WORD, PHOEBE,” I groan and wrap my hand around her throat, cupping her face
with the palm of my hand until her head falls onto my shoulder and her lips are inches from mine.
Hunger devours my heart and churns deep in the pit of my stomach, making it impossible to breathe.
Three hours ago, I was a starving man preparing to feast, convinced that one last time would be
enough to get this little girl out of my system. I’m an idiot. One taste of Phoebe has turned me into a
glutton, and the more I feed, the more ravenous I become.
“Or better yet, say my name.” My voice turns feral. A growl pushes through my clenched throat
and vibrates off her flushed cheek. She’s so beautiful, my fluttering heart jumps and crashes into my
sternum. I’ve avoided this feeling all my life and swore it would never happen to me. But there’s no
denying it now. I’m in love—hopelessly, madly, profoundly in love.
“Say it,” I demand, then press my mouth to hers. Our lips lock, and my tongue dives deep as I let
the taste of her kiss consume my senses.
“Levi,” she breathes, and a tiny moan slips. My lips crash into hers and our mouths meld, locked
in place while our tongues battle for dominance. I pull away and mouth the slope of her neck, licking
long stripes until my teeth graze her earlobe and sink into her flesh.
She shudders and repeats herself, “Levi.”
The sound of my name on her lips, echoing through soft moans, thrills me to no end. I don’t know
how to tell her I’ve fallen in love. It’s crazy dumb and stinks of desperation, but I’ve never felt like
this.
Yesterday, we were nothing more than two strangers on vacation, sunbathing by a mountain lake.
The old me would have ignored the beautiful woman in the white bikini, cooling down by the water.
Women have brought me nothing but trouble and I came here for peace and reflection. Thoughts of
spending a week in quiet contemplation, mourning my father’s death, evaporated the moment we
locked eyes. I’ve never been struck by lightning— never believed in love at first sight. But Phoebe
Love has turned me into a faithful convert.
I talked her into dinner, hoping I could talk my way out of the mess I created. It’s entirely my fault.
Phoebe agreed to a fling with no complications because that’s what I offered. How could I have
known one night would never be enough?
“You’re driving me insane, doll. I don’t think I can let you go.” I thread my fingers through her
long brown hair to hold her steady, and she pushes into me, her back flush with my chest. My eyes
rake over her naked body, lost in a daze of unbridled lust. There’s no way I can walk away from this.
“We said one night, and you’ve talked me into two. No more, Levi...” she whispers, moaning
softly as I bend her over the back of the couch and sink into her tight walls. Once again, her grip
astounds me. I clasp her waist, smoothing my hands down the contoured slope, then dig my fingers
into her perfectly peach-shaped ass. My heart stutters, overwhelmed with an emotion I can't yet grasp.
She isn’t wrong. This was supposed to be a fling, a throwaway affair between strangers. But that was
before my sudden attraction—the one I foolishly believed I could get out of my system—turned into a
lifelong addiction.
This pussy is mine. For good. Forever. I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to take it away from me.
I tug her hair and turn her head, forcing her to look me in the eye while we fuck. Her deep brown
gaze captures mine, and her lips part, quivering through tiny whimpers as my pace builds a staggering
friction. I glare with shameless avarice at the place where our bodies meet. My cock pistons, in and
out, in and out, ramming her hot velvet sheath with a brutal force that can’t be contained. I feel like a
wild animal, unchained by desire and hypnotized by a woman I hardly know.
“I was wrong, Phoebe. This doesn’t have to end.”
“Stop talking, Levi. Please, stop talking,” she sobs, shaking her head as her body starts to unravel.
I wind my arm around her torso, cupping one breast as I pull her tighter into my embrace. I won’t
argue with her now. I'm ruining the vibe with my needy bullshit, and I don’t want to scare her away.
It’s my fault she thinks I’m a terrible investment of time and energy. I made her believe this was about
having a good time, not falling in love.
“Come with me, sweetheart. Be a good girl, and come on my cock. I want to smell like you for
days.” I press the pad of my thumb against her swollen clit and stroke in tight circles. She nods,
grateful for the extra push, mumbling incoherent words of praise and urging me to thrust harder.
“Levi... close.” Phoebe writhes as tremors travel through her undulating body. Her knees weaken,
and her legs fail. I swing my forearm behind her knees and lift her ass into the air, cradling her in my
arms and ramming wildly. The new angle grazes that sweet spot inside her tight walls, and my
beautiful girl shatters, unleashing a torrent of wails in climbing octaves that make my heart swell with
pride. I bring my lips to hers and silence her screams with a kiss that makes my head spin and my
balls ache for release. I don’t need to wait long. The taste of her kiss and the sound of her voice, lost
in ecstasy, usher my release. I pummel faster, pumping through savage groans as her clenching pussy
milks my shaft.
This is the only woman I want. The only woman I’ll ever have again. I don’t care what she says or
where she goes. What’s mine, is mine. It isn’t over.
On the contrary, this is just the beginning.
CHAPTER 2
PHOEBE

A THUNDEROUS SNORE makes my eyes shoot open with surprise. Was that me? Good
heavens, that was loud. Another heavy snort sets my mind at ease before my heart jumps with panic.
My hand drifts to the side and nearly sizzles from the heat radiating into the sheets.
Oh no, I did it again. I wasn’t having a nasty dream--- a filthy but fond recollection from the night
before. I let my bad girl off her tight leash, and now I’m butt naked in Levi Chamberlain’s bed for the
second night in a row.
How the hell can one man be so persuasive?
I need to get the hell out of Dodge before he talks me into round three.
Stunned by my stupidity and weak resolve, my brain spins, forging excuses and hatching getaway
plans while I shimmy to the edge of the mattress. Levi stirs and mumbles dirty things in his sleep. My
ears perk, responding on instinct to the filthy ramblings of a sleeping sex god.
With careful movements, I slip one leg onto the floor, balance my ass mid-air, then place the other
down, toes first, cognizant that any fast motions will wake my sleeping giant. I hold my breath, wiggle
into a squat then place both hands on the area rug by my side of the bed. A wave of relief washes over
my frantic mind when another snore confirms I’ve succeeded.
As I crawl away on the hardwood floor, still shocked by my naughty behavior, I promise myself
this is the last time Levi Chamberlain will talk me into abandoning all decency. No one talks about the
downfalls of loving bad boys. They hype up the sex. And yes, it was incredible. They gush about the
lure of the forbidden and the undeniable thrill of danger.
I can’t tell you how hot it feels to be swept off your feet by a chiseled man with black hair, soulful
blue eyes, and a scorpion tattoo on his neck. But no one mentions the morning after. No one tells you
about these unfortunate moments when you’re stark naked, on your hands and knees, searching for
your underwear in the dark.
Of course, they don’t. Who wants to admit they’ve ever been in this position--- figuratively and
literally.
“Nice ass.” Levi’s breathy rasp catches me off guard. I peek under my arm and spot him on his
side, propped on one elbow and smiling from ear to ear. My heart sinks with mortification. I crawl
faster, yanking clothes left and right, unaware if they’re mine or his, and disappear into the bathroom.
“Where are you going, doll? That’s the closet.”
It’s too late to make a correction. I slip on my bra, pull my shirt over my head and slide into the
ridiculous pair of jean shorts that helped contribute to this mess. He couldn’t keep his grabby hands
off my thighs over dinner; truth be told, that’s why I wore them. I wanted to tempt him because I
wanted him to talk me into another night. But two is all I can take. One more roll in the proverbial
hay, and that beautiful man will make me his slave.
Who has time for that? He said no complications and I believed him. He was just an itch that
needed scratching. We had our fun and now it’s time to be on my way. As much as I love spending
time with him, this has nowhere to go. He said he never stays in one place very long. He’s a drifter, a
traveler who’s never satisfied with the ordinary and mundane.
But that’s precisely what I am--- ordinary and mundane.
The Phoebe he thinks he likes isn’t real. I made her up to look cool and alluring for a man who
probably thought he was hooking up with a bad girl. Nothing could be further from the truth. If he
knew that I crochet when I’m nervous, bake when I’m happy, collect teddy bears, and play a mean
game of chess on Sunday with my grandpa, his enthusiasm would fizzle fast.
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Levi knocks twice, then peeks his head through a crack in the door. When
he sees me scrambling around the floor searching for misplaced items, he flicks on the light switch
and swings the door open. My eyes rise and fixate on his massive length, standing at attention and
ready to party. My face heats with shame. I avert my gaze, horrified by my body’s reaction, and try to
gather my thoughts in its looming presence.
I jump to my feet and brush the mess of hair off my flushed face. “Sorry, I thought this was the
door to the restroom. Thanks for everything. I had a lovely time... again.” I hold out my hand and wait
for him to reciprocate. He doesn’t. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s not amused.
Levi’s eyes narrow as he examines my outstretched hand and cocks his head to one side. “Thank
you? Are you insinuating that I provided a service?”
My dry mouth flies open. “Of course not. I mean, thank you for dinner. There’s no need to thank
you for what transpired here last night because you obviously helped yourself.” I strut past him,
aware I’ve just accused him of tricking me into sex. We both know that’s a lie. One wink, and I
practically threw my panties in his face.
He catches my waist and swings me around to face him. “Where do you think you’re going? We
need to make solid plans, Phoebe. I want to see you again.”
“Let’s not complicate matters with promises you’ll never keep. We agreed to these terms. As a
matter of fact, they were your idea. You called yourself a free spirit, and I accepted your limitations
because we ultimately wanted the same thing--- a good time. But that’s come and gone. You’ve got
your work whatever that may be, and I’ve got my life in New York. It was lovely meeting you, and
now I need to go.” I take a heavy breath and calm the anger brewing deep in my soul. This guy wants
to change the rules mid-game, and I won’t have it. I may not have much experience with men, but I
know enough to bow out while I’m ahead.
“I have roots in New York. I’m not suggesting a long-distance relationship---” My peeved
expression makes him cut his words. His smile quickly fades. Levi Chamberlain is gorgeous, a
fantastic lover with a killer sense of humor. I know he’s a rare catch, but I also know when something
is too good to be true. And I suspect his change of tune has more to do with my rejection than his
genuine interest.
“Goodbye, Levi. I enjoyed our time together and wish you well.” My aching heart stutters as
words I don’t want to speak tumble freely. As much as I want to give in and let this play out to its
natural conclusion, I’m not ready for this level of heartbreak. I’d rather take a minor hit than wait for
him to deliver a lethal blow once my heart is all in.
“No. I don’t accept this.” His words stun me, but I’m too tongue-tied to argue. This was a
mistake--- plain and simple. I'm out of my league and in over my head. I’d never survive going toe to
toe with a player like him, and I don’t want to try.
 “Suit yourself. But you won’t change my mind.” I give him a one-shoulder shrug and open the
door, hoping the last bit of discouragement makes him see the light. As I scamper down his porch and
jump on the path toward my cabin, I hear him utter words that make me second-guess his sanity.
“That's where you’re wrong, Phoebe. Mark my words--- I will change your mind.”
I laugh and give him a half-hearted reply, “Yeah, right, champ. Give it your best shot.”
CHAPTER 3
LEVI
THREE MONTHS LATER- MANHATTAN

THREE YEARS AGO, I had a close encounter with a woman I met in London. Her name was
Colleen. She was pretty and funny and swore up and down she had no use for me outside the
bedroom. That suited me perfectly. I only planned to stay in England for a few weeks, and there was
no sense in becoming involved with anyone who lived on the other side of the ocean.
Of course, there was no chance of that happening. I had no interest in long-term relationships;
even if I did, it would not have been with her. Halfway through dinner, I knew our night would end
early. She was phony, full of herself, and enjoyed pointing out everything wrong with Americans. I
was more annoyed than insulted and asked for the check as soon as she finished her meal.
Colleen assumed I was anxious to get busy. She couldn’t fathom that I was simply eager to get far
away from her. I made up a quick lie and told her I’d call her a cab to take her home. She made a
strange attempt to bully me into sex, questioning my manhood and then insulting my manners. But I
stayed firm and sent her on her way. I assumed I’d never see her again.
But Colleen couldn’t let it go.
In a strange twist that I still don’t entirely understand, she went apeshit. She stalked me,
bombarded my social media, tracked me endlessly around the U.K., and then followed me to Boston,
where she acquired a position at a firm three blocks from mine. It was insane.
We shared a meal and never exchanged more than a quick kiss. There was no reason for her to
form that level of attachment. God knows I'm not that interesting. But she made it her mission to woo
me back for no reason other than to finish what we started. She’s a beautiful woman accustomed to
having men eating out of her hand. I was her only rejection, and she couldn’t bear living with that
reality.
It took me six months and a restraining order to shake her off. And for the life of me, I couldn’t
imagine how anyone could unravel so quickly. Why would they disregard their pride, sanity, and self-
esteem to chase someone who turned them down?
Well, the worm has turned, and I am now the new Colleen.
There’s no denying I have this coming. These are the consequences of my actions, and I have no
one to blame but myself. I spent years playing the field and keeping things casual, but I knew Phoebe
was different from the moment we met. Instead of following my gut, I let my flaky instincts take the
lead. I didn’t have to agree to a fling. Maybe she thought she was giving me what I wanted, and I
never corrected her.
I don’t do complications. Why the fuck did I say that?
The minute I spoke the words, I knew I’d live to regret them. And holy shit, that girl is making me
pay.
 I discovered a whole new side to my personality--- one I never knew existed. It’s dark, ugly, and
incredibly inconvenient when you’re trying to run a company. Every day that passes without Phoebe
by my side, the crazier I grow. I’ve become an unrepentant stalker and have no plans to change my
ways.
Three days after we parted ways, I packed my apartment in D.C. and moved home to New York.
My mother was thrilled to have me back in town. My older brother, Hugo, hid his enthusiasm but
quickly offered me a place at his company. Accepting his help wasn’t easy, but beggars can’t be
choosers. He’s worked hard to expand our father’s company, and although it pains me to admit it, I
have a lot to learn from him.
A month ago, he acquired a new asset in a lengthy and contentious corporate takeover. Stealth
Security is the number one surveillance company in Manhattan and has long-standing contracts with
the state of New York and the federal government. Nothing compares to Stealth. Their proprietary
equipment is top-of-the-line, James Bond kind of shit, and they make money hand over fist. It
momentarily competed with my brother’s much smaller surveillance start-up, but Hugo hates
competition. He used his connections and unlimited bank account to pound them into the ground.
That’s classic Hugo and what I’d expect from my ruthless brother.
Naturally, I wasn’t thrilled to be one of his employees, and fortunately, he wasn’t psyched bossing
me around. Especially since I rarely listen. Two weeks ago, he offered me the position of CEO of
Stealth Security. Can you believe that? That’s like giving a fox the keys to the hen house. With the help
of my recently hired interns, I’ve taken my stalking game to a whole new level.
“She’s leaving her place, dressed to kill.” Sherman’s modulated voice comes through my
carefully placed and nearly undetectable earbuds. “And now she’s heading towards Central Park
West. If you stay put, and she keeps her trajectory, she’ll pass you in thirty seconds.”
“Dressed to kill? What the hell does that mean?” I voice my complaint, perturbed by his
description. “It’s 4:30 in the afternoon, for fuck’s sake, and the sun has yet to set.”
“Don’t kill the messenger, boss. Your lady is wearing a tight black dress with a plunging neckline,
red lipstick, and a pair of fuck-me heels that---” I cut him off with a growl. Sherman takes his job way
too seriously, but he’s ambitious and works after hours for twice the pay. Everyone else has class.
I slink to the edge of the alley, too impatient to wait for her to reach me. He's right. She’s a vision-
-- the embodiment of sex. The sight of her luscious body makes me dizzy with lust. My knees buckle,
but I grasp a nearby railing to hold me steady. I should gouge Sherman’s eyes out for ogling her, but
he’s too valuable to harm. I’ll need him to watch her tomorrow.
Holy Mary, mother of God, where the hell does she think she’s going with that get-up? Does she
have a date? With whom? I know every step she takes, and as far as I’ve seen, she hasn’t had time to
meet anyone else. Lord knows I haven’t given her the privacy to try. I run my hand through my hair
and wipe the sweat on my forehead. I need to focus on the big picture. Details are irrelevant. She’s
going somewhere dressed to the nines, and I’m one hundred percent certain it isn’t with me.
I need to put a stop to it now.
“You look good enough to eat. Where are you going dressed like that?” I slide directly into her
path and accidentally scare the bejesus out of her. Her lips part with a tiny shriek, and her big brown
eyes bug, doubling in size. She clutches her purse and brings it into her chest, assuming I’m here to
mug her. Seconds later, her eyes meet mine, and her frightened expression turns to annoyance.
“Levi! Where did you come from?” She clenches her fists, and an angry pout forms on her glossy
lips. I’m not an unreasonable man. I’m aware my behavior has become borderline unacceptable and
exasperating, but I want the chance to start over. I would never take it this far if I thought I repulsed
her. But I know I’m not alone. I firmly believe she feels something for me too.
“You know I’m always hanging around.” I follow her, my long legs keeping pace with her furious
stride.
“Don’t you mean lurking?” she snaps, bristling with justifiable anger.
“Call it whatever you like--- I’m not giving up.” I follow her to the edge of the sidewalk, running
parallel to the main street, and reach for her hand. She brushes me off, scurrying towards the
intersection with her arm in the air. “Where are you going? You’ll know I’ll find out anyway.”
Desperation makes me obnoxious, but my racing heart prevents me from holding my tongue.
“You need to stop following me around. Why are you still chasing me?” She spots a cab in the
distance and flags him down, waving her arms over her head until he makes an illegal U-turn and
barrels towards the curb.
“Isn’t it obvious? Because I haven’t caught you yet?” I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her
into my chest. “Stop giving me a hard time and let this happen.”
She shakes her head and squirms free. “Quit talking like that. We both know you only want me
because I rejected you. I’m not giving into this strange game you’re playing. Stop ruining my lovely
memory of you. I’m on my way to a set-up with a very nice guy, and I’d like to see where it goes.”
She casually breaks my heart and then darts towards the cab.
I see red. Flames fry my brain and obscure my vision. “A date? I’m right here, Phoebe. I’m not
playing games. I’m not a fucking memory. And I won’t give up until you’re mine.”
She purses her lips and holds the cab door open. Her icy glare stabs my heart, but I can’t look
away. “Goodbye, Levi. Please, move on with your life.”
“Not a chance, Phoebe. Not a fucking chance.”
CHAPTER 4
LEVI

“THAT MIGHT BE the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. It’s five times worse than yesterday's
idiotic idea and twice as creepy.” Grace, my newly appointed executive assistant and an all-around
pain in the ass, squints with disdain and shoots down another fabulous plan. My patience thins. I have
a sound mind to fire her, but I don’t technically wield that kind of power. Grace Bishop is on loan
from Chamberlain Industries, and only my big brother, Hugo, can make that call.
Of course, he would never do that because she’s here to keep an eye on me.
“It’s an incredible plan, and as acting CEO, I insist we move forward with this as soon as
possible.” I make my demand and expect her to comply with my wishes, but I’m not confident she
will. Maybe it’s unconventional and borderline creepy, but there’s too much at stake to sit on my
hands and wait for Phoebe Love to come to me. She’s impervious. I’ve spent three months making an
ass of myself, begging for a second chance to do things right, and although she’s remained more civil
than I deserve, she won’t budge an inch.
And if all that wasn’t enough to stress me out, someone’s trying to steal what’s mine. I don’t know
who this new jackass might be. I’ve been hot on heels since Friday night but lost track of her twice.
She’s learned my methods and found ways to shake me loose. Who knows what happened when I
wasn’t around. I don’t even want to think about it.
Grace yawns and then straightens the lapels of her couture suit. “Don’t be ridiculous. You need to
go through Hugo, and you know it. I’m here to prevent these shenanigans and avert any collateral
damage. Stealth Security still falls under your brother’s umbrella, and your little plan reeks of sexual
harassment. I can’t let you use this company as a vehicle to stalk some poor unsuspecting chick who
doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Grace spits venom like a cobra and leaves me paralyzed with
humiliation. She’s not entirely wrong, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Am I thrilled to stoop so low? No, but I fell head over heels in love, and karma kneed me in the
balls. It’s up to me to make things right, but I can’t do that if she refuses to listen. And I can’t risk her
falling for someone else. I need to put this plan in overdrive.

“You wanted this position. You begged for a chance to prove yourself, and now you want to hold off
on the announcement. If you want me to turn a blind eye, you’ll need clearance from Hugo. I don’t
think he’ll go along with it.” Grace reminds me once again that I’m not technically in charge of shit.
I’m here thanks to nepotism—- plain and simple. My big brother owns the company, and although he
asked for my assistance, I don’t have the proper experience to be helpful. I only agreed to return to the
city to be close to Phoebe. And the only reason I took this position was to prove I’m a responsible
man capable of serious endeavors. As much as I hate working for my brother, I’ll do whatever it takes
to make myself worthy of her time and attention.
“Fine. If that’s what it takes, I’ll be right back.” There’s no sense in beating around the bush. I
know what I want, and I think I know how to get it.
“Hear me out--- I have the best idea. But before I lay it on you, I want you to promise you won’t
dismiss it off hand. I’ve thought long and hard about the best way to lure Phoebe into my web, and I
don’t think Napoleon could have come up with a better strategy.” I catch my brother Hugo on his way
out the door. He’s on his way to D.C. to schmooze a senator, but I have no intention of letting him get
away before he agrees to my plan. I follow him to the elevator and talk a mile a minute, detailing my
kickass strategy to ensnare my Phoebe Love. This isn’t my first attempt to recruit his help, but I have a
hunch it’ll be my last.
“I promise nothing. The last fantastic idea you had nearly got you arrested. Pardon me for not
wanting to get involved with your seedy love life. I’ve got my own problems. And Napoleon got his
ass handed to him at Waterloo.” He charges into the crowded lobby of Chamberlain Industries, his
global headquarters, weaving and waving hellos to his employees on their way upstairs. I know he’s
trying to shake me loose, but my mind is made up.
“Your life is work. I admire your dedication, big brother. And you’ve certainly made my life
easier by devoting every second of your life to the job, but I need more. I demand more. I won’t end
up a forty-three-year-old man with no wife, children, and prospects.” He freezes momentarily,
dumbstruck by my comment, patently unaware of how pathetic his life has become. He’s forty-three,
seven years older than me, and love continues to elude him. By the time I'm his age, I expect to be
happily married to the woman I love with a big house full of children.
I refuse to end up like him.
His eyes bug then narrow to slits. “Now, I’m really not going to help you,” he grunts, then barrels
ahead into a thick herd of commuters, moving left to right, trying like hell to lose me in an unruly
crowd on his way to his hired car. He's not getting away. There’s too much at stake, and this could be
my last chance to drag her into my hemisphere. If I can get her close and force her to listen to reason, I
know she'll see that we're meant to be together.
Desperate and fueled by passion, I fling open the passenger side door and slide in. “That wasn’t
meant to insult you. I wasn’t even talking about you,” I stutter, changing my tune before my big mouth
costs me his cooperation.
“Levi, we’ll talk about this when I get home tomorrow. I have a meeting in D.C. at noon, and I
can’t afford to miss my train,” he rasps, utterly annoyed before I’ve even laid out my idea. This isn’t a
good sign.
“We’ll finish this on the way. I need to set things in motion as soon as possible. You’ll be rid of
me soon— just hear me out,” I say, gesturing with my hands as I proceed to wow him with my genius.
This has to work. Frankly, I’m out of ideas, and the more time passes, the greater the chance she’ll
move on to someone else.
Holy shit, I can't let that happen. I will recover from her loss.
“Out with it, please.” He lifts his wrist and taps on his watch. “You’ve got seven minutes.”
I curl my fists and growl. Hugo’s expecting nonsense, but I know he’ll be impressed with my
brilliance. “Don’t make me nervous. I’ll forget everything, and I want to ensure you’re aware of
today’s blow-by-blow. My happiness is on the line--- the lives of my future children hang in the
balance.”
“You’re wasting time, jackass.” He grits his teeth and groans.
 “I don’t need to tell you about Phoebe. I’m sure you’ve already heard enough about her.” I’ve
bored him for months with stories about my Phoebe.
“Hurry up.” Hugo waves his hand, rushing me to finish my story before we arrive at Penn Station.
“I’ve asked Grace to keep my personal information off the Stealth Security website for the time
being. I’m committed to the job, and thank you for your trust, but I’m in the middle of a project that
needs my anonymity. I’ve asked one of our recruiters to reach out to Phoebe on Job Link and offer her
a position and salary she can’t refuse.” I smile wide, confident that my out-of-this-world idea will
blow his mind.
He stares, confused, then clears his throat, twirling his finger to speed me up. I cringe, fearing he
doesn’t appreciate the work I’ve invested in my plan.
“I know she feels unappreciated in her current job, and there’s a high probability she’ll accept
this role. Don’t you get it? We’ll be in the same office. She’ll work for me and won’t be able to get
away.” I rub my hands together, excited by the prospect of having her so close.
“I want no part of this.” Hugo tries to lay down the law as he exits the car, but I know him better
than that. I’ve been getting my way since we were kids. “I go on record as being against this, and
when she sues you for sexual harassment, I will use this conversation against you.”
“It won’t fail. We’re soul mates.”
CHAPTER 5
PHOEBE

WHO NEEDS COMPLICATIONS? I don’t need complications.

Dear Lord, I need to let that go.
It made sense to keep things casual. We were two ships that passed in the night--- two ships that
went back for seconds. Nothing more. He stated his boundaries, and I expected him to stay true to his
word.
Obviously, I was horribly wrong.
A fling is just a fling. There’s no sense pretending it was anything more. You can’t build a lifelong
love on the back of a two-night stand. This isn’t a Hallmark Christmas movie— although I don’t
remember seeing anything quite so nasty.
I should have come clean about my past. He had a right to know the whole story. But the man said
no complications, and I was naïve enough to believe him. Besides, some things are on a need-to-
know basis. We both consented to a good time with no messiness, and I didn’t feel the need to expose
myself to judgment.
Did he suspect my ineptitude and make himself believe our encounter was extra special? That’s
nonsense. Levi was an older man with knowledge and skills far beyond my years. It made sense to
allow him to take the lead and let him guide me through the murky waters of my sexual debut.
If I’d been more mature, I would have cut things off after the first night. But my inexperience with
the opposite sex left me ill-equipped to deal with the aftermath of rejecting a man like Levi
Chamberlain, and it’s come back to haunt me with a vengeance.
Going forward, I’ll do things differently. My grandpa always says you live and you learn. And I
couldn’t agree more. My bad girl days were few, but I can confidently say they’re far behind me.
I just didn’t expect to get attached so soon, and I had no idea I’d fall in love.
That was an unexpected and unacceptable outcome. I was way out of my depth and fled that
lovely resort as soon as I regained my senses. That should have been the end of it. It wasn’t. Hot guys
never take rejection in stride. They’re used to getting their way, and any perceived slight blows their
mind.
That’s why he can’t let go. That’s why he moved to New York and bought an apartment a block
from mine. And that’s why he claims to be over the moon in love.
But I don’t buy it.
Levi Chamberlain wants what he can’t have. He digs the challenge-- he wants the chase. As soon
as I show the slightest interest, he’ll kick me to the curb and move on with his beautiful life. I may be
young and unsophisticated, but I understand my limitations and won’t expose my vulnerable heart to
his charm.
 No, not again.
I shake my head with disdain, wondering how I let such an obvious bad boy into my heart. The
Levi Chamberlains of the world are a dime a dozen in my part of New York. He’s the kind of guy I’ve
known all my life--- spoiled rich, rotten to their core, but with enough sex appeal to talk a girl out of
her sensible panties.
I thought I was immune to their charm. Lord knows I should be.
When you hear their schtick enough times, you realize that they don’t mean a word they say. This
isn’t my first rodeo--- I’ve ridden the heartbreak express before. I was that ridiculous teenage girl
who was dumb enough to fall for the captain of the football team. When I wouldn’t give him what he
wanted, he dumped me for someone who would.
Levi got what he wanted. And he gave me what I needed. There’s no need to revisit my bad girl
ways. That was vacation Phoebe. Real-world Phoebe wants things to return to normal.
If only he’d get the hint.
“How does this look?” I button my jacket and fluff my hair, twirling in place to give my friend,
Elise, a front and back view of my job interview attire. The suit is brand new, but the pumps are my
tried-and-true favorites.
“Fabulous. You’ll knock them dead with your killer smile and can-do attitude.” She claps her
hands and points to the seat in front of her, anxious to order lunch. “Now sit. I’ve got fifty minutes
before I need to haul ass back to work, and I can’t afford to be late. My dumb boss has his eye on me-
-- and not in a good way. I think he’s looking for excuses to fire me.”
I wiggle into my chair and lift the menu, perusing it quickly to find a sandwich that won’t give me
bad breath before my meeting. The position looks promising, but I refuse to get my hopes up again.
The woman in H.R. is saying all the right things and treating me like I have his in the bag. I swear, her
enthusiasm feels like a canned response. No one is ever that thrilled to interview me. “I need this job,
Elise. My parents were overly concerned with my choice of majors, and if I can’t find a respectable
position, it proves they were right to question my decision. My dad would never throw it in my face,
but my mother is dying to say I told you so.”
“You’ll do great, Pheebs. Stop being so hard on yourself.” Elise waves to a passing waiter and
directs his eyes to her closed menu. When she’s hungry, her patience is non-existent. “And you never
told me what happened on Friday. You dragged me up and down Fifth Avenue searching for a hot
dress and never updated me on your date. How did it go?”
“Elise! We’ve been over this multiple times. There was no date. I wanted him to believe I had a
date so he’d back off.” I shriek and then cringe at the sound of my voice. What’s happening to
me? Who creates make-believe scenarios, buys an expensive dress and new shoes, and gets her hair
blown out only to take a cab, hop off at the nearest subway station, grab a rental car and drive like the
wind to Westchester to spend a quiet evening at home with her grandparents? I planned my escape for
days hoping I’d lose him in the exchange and make him believe I’d disappeared into the night with
another man.
“Oh yeah, I forgot. How were your grandparents?” Elise smothers her giggle with a sip of coffee.
“They’re fine. We streamed the latest serial killer documentary and made popcorn. You know how
much my nana loves true crime,” I sink into my chair and cover my face with my hands. “But the
worst part is it did nothing to deter him. He’s more rabid than ever.”
Elise groans, extends her arm, and pinches my bicep. “I’d kill to have your problems. What do
you have to complain about? You’re a gorgeous girl with killer legs, a beautiful apartment in the
Upper West Side, a dad who adores you, and grandparents who hang on your every word. Plus,
you’ve got a hot man stalking you. That may sound creepy, but I don’t think you believe he’s
dangerous. He’s just needy and desperate. I know you liked him because you haven’t dated anyone
else since you met him, but for some insane reason, you’re playing hard to get now that you’ve got
him eating out of your hand. These are not problems, Phoebe. This is an embarrassment of riches.”
I frown, annoyed that she would mock my pain. “He’s relentless, and I can’t let him suck me back
into his world. I know it sounds insane. He’s beautiful, rich, ripped, and obsessed with me. Why am I
complaining? Why don’t I just give in and see where this goes? But what happens after he’s had his
fill? When the thrill of the chase disappears, and he figures out that the sexy chick he thought he
wanted doesn’t really exist?” I flail my arms wildly, incensed by her dismissal, until the waiter
arrives to take our order, forcing me to rein in my anger. “Men like him love a challenge, and I’m not
interested in helping him get me out of his system.”
She rolls her eyes, and my cheeks heat under her judgmental gaze. “I don’t know why you
believed that making him jealous would make him go away.”
“I read somewhere that men respect other men’s territory more than they respect our decisions.
Apparently, Levi does not subscribe to those rules. Besides, I’m learning as I go. This is all new
territory for me. ”
She huffs and offers no sympathy. “You have no one to blame but yourself. Give it your best
shot? Why would you dare a man using stalker language?”
I gasp, stunned she would blame me for causing his psychosis. “Stalker language? How the hell
was I supposed to recognize stalker lingo? I thought it was a joke. Why would someone like Levi
want to uproot his life for me? I’m no one. I can’t get even get a full-time job.”
Unconvinced by my modesty, Elise stretches her arm and gives my hand a deadly squeeze.
“You’re fucking Phoebe Love, and that girl is my best friend. Embrace your light and stand tall at that
interview today. You’re going to get that job because you deserve it. Forget about your parents. Forget
about Levi. Concentrate on you, and good things will happen.”
I stare, confused. “Who are you, and what have you done with Elise?”
“Shut your mouth and take the compliment. Our food is coming.”
CHAPTER 6
PHOEBE
TWO WEEKS LATER

“HEY, Phoebe! How are you settling in?” Shelly, my direct manager and head of marketing, prowls
into my office with a quick knock and an awkward smile. “Is that your desk?” She tiptoes closer to
inspect the black walnut desk that magically appeared in my office earlier this week. It’s incredible
and specially designed for shorties like me. I mentioned offhand on my first day that my desk was a
little too tall and asked if I could bring my own. Grace, the woman in charge of my onboarding,
assured me the company would handle it.
I never expected anything so nice. It feels custom-designed to my precise measurements, but that’s
a ridiculous thought. How would anyone here know such a thing?
I run my hand against the polished wood, still marveling at the craftsmanship. “Isn’t it lovely? I’ll
have to ask where they purchased it and find a similar one for home.”
Her brows crease with confusion. “Who brought this in? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I shrug, unsure why she doesn’t know about the replacement since I assume everything in this
department requires her approval. “I don’t know. Don’t you? It was here Monday morning.”
She shakes her head and leans in to examine it more closely. “Nope. But you’re right. It is lovely.
I’ll ask the office manager about it. I wouldn’t mind one of these myself.”
I drop my ass into my ergonomic chair, another vast improvement, and return to work. “Did you
need something? I’m getting ready to hop on a call with the graphic designer, and I need to prepare.”
This job is going so much better than I imagined. No one dismisses my ideas. People listen, ask
questions, and together we brainstorm to come up with solutions. I’ve got a meeting in Boston in two
weeks, a corner office overlooking midtown Manhattan and last but not least, I get access to the
company’s car service to take me to and from work. It’s unbelievable. I still can’t believe my good
fortune.
“Yes, I did.” Shelly’s eyes shift up and down, then left to right as she takes inventory of my office
furniture. Her narrowed gaze rests on my chair, and her lips tighten. “Is that a new chair? When the
hell did upper management become so generous?”
"Yeah, it’s fantastic for my posture, and my feet don’t hang two inches above the floor. Don’t you
have one too? We’re about the same height.” I know she doesn’t. I’ve visited her office multiple times
and wondered why she settled for such a bare-bones option.
Irritation twists her features, but she quickly changes gears and forces a smile that doesn’t reach
her eyes. “No. I don’t. But I’ll deal with it shortly. Back to why I’m here--- the CEO would like to
meet you. He’s asked if you wouldn’t mind stopping by his office before you leave for lunch.”
“The CEO?” My eyes grow wide with fear. I’ve only been here a little over a week. What could I
have done in so little time? My heart races with anxiety as I ponder the worst-case scenarios. I can’t
return to my father’s company with my tail tucked between my legs after I left my job without notice. I
couldn’t bear the shame.
Shelly’s expression softens, and a genuine smile appears. “It’s nothing sinister, Phoebe. He just
wants to say hello. Despite this blatant display of favoritism,” she glares at my desk, grimaces, then
continues, “he’s a decent guy--- lovely to everyone. He’s been gone all week but returned this
morning. His office is at the end of the hall--- you can’t miss it.” She exits with a wave and closes the
door behind her.
The CEO? When did they hire him? I checked the website to learn the executive teams’ names,
and the position said vacant. A place like this can’t neglect to update its website--- not if we want to
keep being number one. But that’s why I’m here. I was hired to strengthen this company’s SEO,
establish its brand on social media and manage public relations. It’s essential to show my worth early
and make myself indispensable. With that in mind, I flip open my notebook and jot down a reminder
to revise the company website after my meeting.
The morning flies by in a blur of two video calls, a benefits review with Human Resources, and a
brief encounter with Grace on my way to the lounge. While I check my email, my grumbling stomach
reminds me lunch is approaching. I shift my gaze to the clock on the wall and fly out of my chair. It’s
ten minutes until noon, and there’s no time to freshen up before I head to the executive suite. With a
quick stride, I march down the hall, straightening my skirt, smoothing my hair, and doing a last-minute
breath check before reaching the tall door at the end of the hall. I read the words, Chief Executive
Officer but can’t find the name of the man I’m about to meet.
How strange. These guys love seeing their names in bold letters, large enough to be visible from
space.
I take a deep breath, steel my spine and push the door open. It takes half a second to smell his
cologne. My pulse jumps with exhilaration, and my body instantly betrays me. The familiar scent of
Levi Chamberlain turns my insides to mush. His full lips tip into a gorgeous smile, and butterflies
swarm like killer bees in my tummy.
Why on earth is he here?
“Hey, doll. How do you like your new job?” His smoldering blue eyes meet mine, and my
lovesick heart skips a beat. Nothing makes sense. I didn’t think a guy like him would work for a
living, much less run an entire company. Before I have time to think, bolt, or open my mouth, he
swings his legs to one side and circles his desk to move toward me.
“You have got to be kidding me! You’re the CEO? Why? Where? What’s happening? Is this a
joke, Levi Chamberlain? Am I a joke to you?” Tears flood as reality sets in. I’m such a loser. I wasn’t
hired because someone saw my worth and knew I’d be an asset to the team. I’m here because the boss
misused his power and position to lure me into his web.
Levi rushes to my side and holds his palm out in mock surrender. His smile disappears, and the
look of muted agony replaces it. “Sweetheart, please don’t cry. You’re not a joke.” He shakes his
head, sputtering through one apology after another, trying his best to reassure me. I’m not convinced.
What else can he say? The deed is done, and the best job I’ve ever had is nothing but a fond memory.
And I had so many fabulous ideas to turn this place around.
“I resign, effectively immediately,” I stammer through angry tears, furious he’s wasted my time
with these ridiculous games.
“I don’t accept your resignation.” He takes my hands in his--- I’m too weak and grief-stricken to
fight him--- and peppers my fingers with gentle kisses. I don’t pull away. In my sad state, his touch
feels too good to deny. “Shelly told me you’re perfect for the job. I didn’t influence her decision to
hire you. I’m only responsible for getting you the interview and negotiating your salary and benefits.”
“You’re lying,” I accuse him. He’s the CEO. He can make decisions willy-nilly, and self-
preservation keeps his subordinates from questioning him. If he told someone to hire me, then no
doubt they hired me. And that makes me look like a spoiled princess who stole a position from
someone more deserving.
“I promise I’d never lie to you,” he placates me with confidence, but his words make me seethe.
“You did lie! You lied by omission. I checked out the company website---your name was nowhere
in sight. You knew I’d never take a job where I'd have you as a boss, so you deliberately kept it off
the site. If that’s not a lie, then you and I must have entirely different definitions.
His expression sobers as the truth finally sinks in. “I’m sorry. And you’re right.”
“I am?” I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to steady my quivering pout and blink away tears.
No one ever says I’m right.
“Unequivocally. I was wrong, and you were right. I’ve behaved boorishly, and although my heart
was in the right place, this now feels utterly patronizing. I promise Shelly chose you out of several
candidates. I let her have the ultimate say, and she told me she was incredibly impressed with your
positive attitude and skills. She doesn’t know how I feel about you, and I wouldn’t dream of sharing
that with her.” He leans in and wipes a tear from my hot cheek.
“You’re too much, Levi,” I sniffle, trying hard to regain my composure. “I enjoyed our time
together, and I think of you often. It’s hard not to when you appear around every corner. But I don’t
think I can work for you---”
He interrupts me with an exasperated groan, “You keep telling me I don't know you well enough to
love you. Then let me get to know you, and I guarantee my feelings won’t change.”
“Not in this setting. Under normal circumstances...” I stop to gather my thoughts. There are no
ordinary circumstances. He's asked me out a hundred times since I got back from Virginia, and I’ve
shot him down.
Did I drive him to take such desperate measures?
Well, he didn’t need to be so insufferable.
“You don’t owe me anything, but I’d like you to stay. I’ll back off and stop hounding you. No more
surveillance, and I’ll even limit my texts.” His words do little to assuage my fears.
“Limit?”
He shakes his head and smiles. “You can’t expect me to stop altogether. But I’ll give you privacy
and allow you to work undisturbed. You’ll hardly see me around the office, but maybe every now and
again, you’ll let me take you to lunch and tell me all about the real Phoebe.”
“The real Phoebe?” My voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak. What the hell is he implying,
and how does he know?
He kisses each one of my wrists and then pulls away. His sudden absence makes me shiver, and I
instantly regret standing my ground. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be in his arms.
Why am I so weak?
I don’t want to quit, and I don’t want to leave his office. I'm dying to unzip his trousers, push him
into his chair and work off this sexual tension by riding him hard for a week.
“Lay it on me, little girl. I want to know the good and bad. If we have time, I’ll tell you all about
me, too.” His chipper voice makes me smile. The touch of his lips makes me shudder. Arousal pools
in my cotton panties and my pink cheeks flush crimson.
“Did you order that desk for me?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He nods once and offers a toothy grin that makes my pulse race. His goofy side might be even
more appealing than his sexier version. “I did, indeed. I hope you like it.”
The twinkle in his blue eyes sends me back to that day by the lake when this glorious, sun-kissed,
tattooed god first stole my heart. If I stay here, I know I'll give in to his demands, but with a smile like
that, how can I walk away?
“It’s lovely,” I mumble sheepishly, amazed at how quickly this man gets me hot and bothered. I’m
a fool to agree, but I have no willpower to walk away. Lord, help me. “Thank you.”
“Welcome to the team.”
CHAPTER 7
LEVI
THE FOLLOWING WEEK

“WHAT’S THAT? What are you wearing?” Grace squints, angles her head, and points to the new
fitted dress shirt I commissioned from Hugo’s tailor. I have another lunch date with Phoebe today and
wanted to look my best. The last thing I need is for Grace to make me feel self-conscious.
“It’s a shirt. Stop ogling my body for ten seconds and update me on the Boston meeting. Is Shelly
attending with Phoebe?” I tap a button on my keyboard and hide Phoebe’s Instagram account behind
my quarterly reports. I’ve stayed true to my word---at least as far as she knows. Because I know
where she is during the day and have a hidden camera in her office, there’s no need to stalk her until
after working hours. And yes, I know that still counts.
Sue me. This habit became second nature, and stopping cold turkey fucks with my emotional well-
being. For the sake of her sanity, I let her believe she’s off my radar. I never allow her to see me, and
thanks to our budding friendship, most of my texts aren’t entirely unwelcome.
“Ogling you? You conceited man. That shirt looks ridiculous.” Grace takes a minute to think of a
worthy comeback but drops the ball.
“My shirt looks fantastic. Phoebe already complimented it this morning, and hers is the only
opinion that matters.” I hit another key and click open a tab featuring Phoebe’s office cam. She’s on a
web call, smiling ear to ear and prattling words I can’t hear with the volume on mute. She’s so
fucking adorable. I didn’t think it was possible to like her more than I already did, but every minute
we spend together proves me wrong.
“Shelly’s son is starring in a Christmas pageant that week, and although she’ll be back in time, she
wants to hang around town to help him practice his lines.” Grace updates me, then steps closer,
craning her neck to look at what has me so enraptured. I click out of my Phoebe cam and pretend to
care about Shelly’s family life.
“That makes sense. But I thought he only had one line.” Her kid is playing one of the three wise
men--- that’s hardly a major role.
“He does. But he’s five years old, and it’s his big debut. Cut her some slack.” She takes another
step and sneaks a peek at my monitor, clearly surprised when she sees the quarterly reports plastered
against my screen.
“I assume you want me to book you a flight to Boston next week? Or will you be taking Hugo’s
jet?” She meanders towards the door with a sarcastic grin, judging me every step of the way. Thank
goodness she’s excellent at her job because this girl is endlessly annoying.
“Hugo offered me his jet. But make sure Phoebe travels first class. It’s her first work trip, and I
want her to go in style.” I duck behind my screen and maximize my Phoebe cam, enthralled by the
vision before me. I should feel guilty watching her without her permission, but there’s no way I could
have learned about her tiny quirks and idiosyncratic behavior on my own. As soon as she settles into
her desk, she replaces her four-inch pumps with a pair of pink bunny slippers she stores in her bottom
desk drawer. She always combs her hair and dabs lip gloss before starting her web calls and then
ends each one by waving goodbye to the screen. She blasts Christmas music from the moment she
arrives to the minute she leaves. The office next to hers has already lodged a complaint, but I told
them to go to hell and try to find the spirit of Christmas on the way there. If my lady wants to play her
music---she’ll play her music.
We’ve shared two meals since last week --- a bagel in the lounge and a quick lunch at the food
trucks across the street. Both locations made it nearly impossible to make my move, although God
knows I tried. Late last night, I asked her to join me for dinner. Initially, she rejected my proposition
with a condescending emoji but eventually compromised by agreeing to lunch today.
I swore we’d keep things professional while she’s under my employment, and I’ve done my best
to keep my emotions in check, but the harder I fall, the more impossible that becomes.
Thirty excruciating minutes pass before she meets me downstairs, and I escort her to the hired car
waiting by the curb. She agreed to lunch under the condition we wouldn’t advertise our friendship.
According to her, if people see us together, they may accuse her of using sex to climb the corporate
ladder. If only that were true, I’d give her a seat on the board of directors.
“Did you pick a place, or are we playing it by ear?” She shimmies to the far side of the backseat,
and I give her space to settle in. As much as I want to grab her, peel her panties off with my teeth and
ravish her up and down Park Avenue, she deserves my patience. At least for now.
“I made reservations at a new place a few blocks from here. I hope you like brick oven pizza,” I
stutter aimlessly, finding it difficult to have her so near and yet so far away. I heard her mention this
new establishment on one of her calls. Our designer raved about the pizza, and she made a note to try
it before the end of the week.
“Oh my God, you read my mind!” She scoots closer and graces me with her warmth. “I’ve
checked out their menu online. We should order two different types and share. Are you greedy, or do
you not share your food?” She leans her cheek onto her shoulder and bats her lashes. “You don’t
strike me as greedy.”
Is she flirting with me? Good God, she’s flirting again. My eyes meet hers, and she holds my gaze,
pulling me deep into those big brown eyes--- the only place I want to be. Words squeak through my
clenched throat, but I’m not entirely sure what I say until I hear them aloud. “I can be greedy, but
never with food. And never with you.”
A tiny smile touches her lips, and her sugar-sweet voice comes out with a sigh, “You’ve been
very generous. You’ve always been generous...” Her expression turns dreamy, and my lovesick mind
rehashes nasty memories from July.
I nudge my forehead into hers and inhale her scent, waiting on pins and needles for her to finish
her sentence. Was that sexual? My heart beats in double time and strangles the breath from my lungs.
The air thickens and heats the space between us. Her flushed face shines with a thin sheen of dew, and
I fight the urge to lick it off. That feels like an inappropriate move during work hours.
She exhales, and a whiff of peppermint floats into my face. Does she want me to kiss her? She’s
close enough to stage an accidental slip, but I can’t take advantage so soon. Sweat trickles down my
neck and gathers on my spine. Her eyes focus on my mouth, and her lips part. There’s so much I want
to say, do, and feel with her as the center of my universe. If I don’t get it out soon, I may explode.
“Sometimes you make it impossible to breathe.”
“Good.”
Lord have mercy, I love this girl.
CHAPTER 8
PHOEBE

I THOUGHT for sure he’d kiss me. We shared a hot moment, frozen in time, our mouths inches
apart. Is he a tease? Am I?
Good Lord, I don’t want to be a tease--- I just wanted a kiss for old times’ sake. He’s the only
man who’s ever sent me into a fevered pitch of ecstasy. It isn't easy to admit that I yearn for his love
every single time I stride into work.
Oh no, he’s done it again.
I knew if we worked together and spent time in each other’s company, he’d break down the brick
wall I’ve carefully constructed since I fled the resort like a trampy bat out of hell.
Five minutes in his presence, I surrender all decency, flirt like a floozy, and exit the vehicle with
damp panties. I’m fighting a losing battle, and I know it.
“I told you why I chose Mountain Ridge. It was my dad’s favorite place to take my brother and me
when we were kids. His father took him there as well. But you never told me about your connection. I
would think a young, beautiful girl of twenty-three would go somewhere far more fun than a family
resort in Appalachia.” He pours Pellegrino into two glasses of ice and hands me one. I nod and mouth
a soft thank you, accidentally grazing his hand with my fingertips. A coil deep in my belly winds
tighter, and my chest rises and falls, struggling to fill my lungs with air. Seconds pass before he clears
his throat and draws my attention back from outer space.
“Is it too personal?” He cocks his head and takes a sip of mineral water. His deep blue eyes tether
me, searching my face and probing my soul for answers. It’s not personal, but it is embarrassing.
Unwilling to lie and suddenly comfortable enough to share the truth, I take a quick sip and release
a shaky breath. “It’s dumb and slightly humiliating, but I’m over it now.”
“Now you need to tell me,” he teases amusingly, and a broad smile spreads across his chiseled
face.
Be still my heart.
I smile and hold back the stream of laughter that bubbles up from my nervous belly. “It’s so dumb
and a little pathetic.”
“I’ll bet it isn’t.” He leans in and props his elbows on the table, giving me his undivided attention.
I nod with certainty. “Yes, it is. I graduated from college in early June, and my parents asked me
what I’d like as a graduation present. It feels childish now, but I said I’d like to return to Mountain
Ridge, the resort we visited once when my mother accidentally booked our stay, confusing it with a
much more exclusive resort nearby. My father and I had a blast that week, but my mother was far less
impressed with the amenities. I assumed they understood that my request meant we’d return together
for one final family vacation before I step into adulthood.”
 He chuckles, “And they didn’t assume that?”
I shake my head and sigh, “Nope. They booked my vacation as a solo trip and wished me a happy
graduation. I considered not going, but I’m glad I did.” I swallow the lump in my throat and feel an
unwelcome blush burn my cheeks.
“I’m glad you did, too. Maybe one day we’ll go back together.” He slides his hand across the
table and threads his fingers through mine. “Thanks for coming out with me today. I genuinely enjoy
hearing more about you. You’re the best part of my day.”
“Levi...” I gaze at the menu, the one the waiter forgot to take after we ordered, and pretend to be
fascinated by their dessert options.
“Do you have any siblings? I always talk about my brother, but you never mention anyone.” He
changes the subject and then leans back to make room for the server to place our small pizzas on the
table.
“It’s just me. I envy your relationship with your brother. You complain about him regularly, but
even when you do, your face lights up, and you end whatever you’re saying by telling me he’s always
been a good brother. It must be nice having an older sibling to admire.” I remove a small slice from
the pan and shove half of it in my mouth, afraid I’ve given away how much I notice every little detail
about him. Because I do. His presence, however irritating, brings me joy. I never felt threatened by
his overbearing attention. On the contrary, I always felt safe knowing he was somewhere watching,
ready to pounce if someone hurt me.
His jaw drops, and a chunk of Italian sausage falls to the plate. “Don’t ever repeat those words in
front of Hugo. He’d never let me live it down.”
I try to suppress a giggle and fail miserably. “I promise I won’t. But you shouldn’t deny your
feelings. There’s nothing wrong with a little brotherly love.”
Levi’s amusement comes to a sudden halt, but he tries to hide his displeasure by offering a slice
from his plate. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? Denying our feelings?”
His critical tone makes my smile disappear. I remove a piece of basil from my pizza and pat the
oil down with a napkin, busying myself with nonsense and trying to buy time to reply. He doesn’t
know how I feel, and frankly, he hasn’t denied anything. “That’s not what I’m doing. You asked me to
keep working for you, and I’m trying my best because I genuinely enjoy my job. If my presence
bothers you, I can hand in my resignation.”
“That’s not what I want, and you know it,” he mutters hastily, stuffing his mouth to prevent him
from saying more.
“I like you, Levi. You’re much more sophisticated than me, and I doubt I’ve kept my feelings
entirely hidden.” Every word pains me to speak. My heart aches to confess I may be in love, but
we’ve already put the chicken before the egg once, and I don’t want to repeat past mistakes. Our
blooming friendship may seem ridiculous when we’ve already seen each other naked, but sometimes,
the best things evolve over time.
I read that somewhere.
“What feelings are those?” His expression softens, but his tone remains sharp and accusatory. His
vexation is apparent. What’s happening? Why is Dr. Jeckell turning into Mr. Hyde right when I'm
only now becoming comfortable with him again?
His mocking tone makes me grit my teeth with irritation. “They’re mine, and I'm not ready to share
them. Can we drop this and finish our meal? I have a meeting in thirty minutes.”
His face pales with fear, and remorse makes him change his tune. “I’m sorry, Phoebe. I didn’t
mean to get pissy with you. Thanks for coming out with me. I love spending time with you--- even if
you always leave me wanting more. But that’s my problem, not yours.”
A glazed look of sadness transforms his perfect features, and a stab of guilt pierces my wretched
soul. We could be happy. This beautiful man could make me the happiest woman in the world, but it
could also end in wounds that never heal.
Nothing this good lasts forever--- does it?
“Maybe we can do this again when I return from Boston.” I fight to salvage our lovely lunch and
budding friendship by making plans he may not be interested in keeping.
He nods once, but his enthusiasm wanes. “Let’s play it by ear. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and
I need to concentrate on work.”
My heart sinks, but I put on a brave face and nod in agreement. “Of course. I understand
completely.”
Goddamn it.
CHAPTER 9
LEVI
THE FOLLOWING WEEK- BOSTON

THIS ISN’T WORKING.

I don’t play games in casual relationships--- why should I play them now with the woman I love?
It was my fault for pushing her when things were going so well, but something primal rose from the
pit of my stomach--- a need to cut through the bullshit, prop her over my knee, and spank her until she
confesses that she loves me too.
But that didn’t happen. Instead of manipulating her into sharing her dark secrets, she called my
bluff and backed away. We haven’t spoken since last Friday’s lunch. I promised myself I’d leave her
alone and let her come to me, but five days have passed, and my Phoebe-free life is plunging me into
an endless well of panic and manufactured what-ifs.
On Monday morning, I shipped Sherman to Boston to follow her in my place. I’m not sure why I
still need a play-by-play, but it comforts me to know someone is looking out for my girl in a strange
city. She’s had daily meetings with multiple clients, and although he swears she’s having a good time
and appears unaffected by my absence, I want to believe she’s a fabulous actress hiding her despair.
Because I am fucking miserable.
Two hours ago, I swallowed my pride, tucked my tail between my legs, and boarded Hugo’s
private jet for Logan Airport. I arrived in Boston thirty minutes ago, and I'm now en route to meet
Sherman at a coffeehouse in Cambridge. She’s due to return home tomorrow evening, and I plan to
show up at her hotel and throw myself at her mercy. It’s my last hope.
“I can’t believe you’re here. Don’t you watch the news? There’s a serious front headed in this
direction.” Sherman searches his pockets and produces a newly printed plane ticket. “I changed my
departure for this afternoon. They say it's going to be one of those hundred-year storms.”
I laugh and wave my hand to dismiss his concerns. “For fuck’s sake, Sherman, they say that all the
time. They predict snow and ice every other day. It’s Massachusetts in December. Snow and ice are
par for the course.” I’m too frazzled to take him seriously, but he’s quick to shut my sarcasm down.
“Look at this, Levi. Look at it.” He opens his weather app and points to an animated doppler
radar covered with specs of pastel swimming across the screen. “Do you see these giant blue bands
moving across Ontario? That’s snow. Do you see that band of pink in between the blue? That’s sleet.
And this green right here--” He taps his screen. “That’s rain coming in just before temperatures drop
to zero. I’ve seen a lot of storms, but nothing like this. They’re calling it a polar vortex. Canadians are
freaking out, Levi! Canadians! They’re like polar bears--- nothing scared them.” He shoves his phone
in his pockets and downs the rest of his coffee.
“Where are you going? I thought your flight leaves in a few hours.” Sherman slings his backpack
over his shoulders and buttons his coat.
 “I’m out of here, boss. If I head to the airport now, I may have a chance to get on an earlier flight
and beat this shit to New York. I need to get food, supplies, and firewood in case the city loses
power. If I were you, I’d find Phoebe and drag her home before the storm locks the city down and
leaves you stranded on opposite sides of the city.” He gives a mocking salute, tells me to stay safe,
and heads into the street.
A wave of dread consumes me. I pull out my phone and search for the latest weather reports.
Alerts pour in, one after another. Blizzard warnings. Sleet watches. The polar vortex arrives in four
hours--- take cover now. What in the world? I text my pilot to ensure the jet is refueled and ready for
takeoff, then send a message to Phoebe.
My pilot answers first.

We’re grounded. The only planes allowed to leave are the ones in line now.

Seriously?

They’re calling it the storm of the century. If you don’t mind, I’m parking the jet in your
brother’s hangar and heading for cover. My sister lives near Boston Common, and
she’s offered to house me until this blow over.

Of course. Take cover and stay safe. I need to hunt down Phoebe, explain why I’m in
town, and get her to safety. I’ll be at my old place in Beacon Hill if you need me. Don’t be
shy.

Stay safe

I tuck my phone into my pocket and shrug on my coat. Outside, the streets are bustling with
activity. Flurries are falling steadily, but the air of chaos is brewing. According to the barista waiting
by the door, ready to lock it behind me, Boston is shutting down. A front was expected, but no one
anticipated its strength. I need to get to Phoebe before she tries to head to the airport.
There’s no time to waste.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Dead [1834]. A post captain and C.B. Black Sambo, you and I
never could agree; we hated one another most cordially: as a
midshipman you were tyrannical; as a captain, I know nothing
of you.—[Marshall, iv. 635.]
John Kiel, Midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant. Poor Jack went mad and died.
William Pringle, first a scribe, and then a midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant out-pension; nicknamed ‘Bull Rothery’ and
‘Ponderous and Huge.’ He got the name of ‘Ponderous and
Huge’ from the following circumstance. When we were
storming the poop (as I have mentioned before), I was looking
at John Macredie who had a boarding-pike for a spear, and
repeating the following lines from the Iliad:
And now he shakes his great paternal spear,
Ponderous and huge, which not a Greek could rear—

when Pringle, who was standing by, asked me who Ponderous

and Huge were, and whether they were Greeks or Trojans.[68]
Titus Allardice, Midshipman.
Dead [1832]. A commander [1831]; died insane at Haslar.
Davis, Mate. Dead. A lieutenant. Poor fellow, was broke by
court martial.
John Bull Conolly, Midshipman.
A lieutenant, out-pension; a very good fellow.
Robert Yetts, son of the first lieutenant, midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant; broke by court martial. Poor Bob with all
his faults was a worthy, generous fellow.
Henry Foularton, Midshipman.
Dead. Very religious, and remarkably neat in his dress; but at
last drank very hard, and died regretting that a keg of gin
(along side of him) should see him out, which was really the
case.
Henry Allen, Midshipman.
This unfortunate man was captain of the Rattler sloop of war in
the West Indies and was hanged at the yardarm by the
sentence of a court martial [April 22, 1797, under the 29th
Article of War].
Gregory Grant, Midshipman.
A commander [1810]; a very worthy fellow. Died 1839.—
[Marshall, x. 403.]
William Vosper, Midshipman.
A lieutenant, Royal Asylum, Greenwich Hospital. A very good
fellow and seaman; we were at three schools together, and also
in the Edgar and Berwick.
Richard Heycock, Midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant. Old Dick was a good sailor, but
unfortunately, as deaf as a doornail.
Fras. Roskruge, Midshipman.
Lieutenant [of Britannia], killed [at Trafalgar] in battle. A very
worthy fellow; son of the master.
Frost, Midshipman.
Dead. A master; ‘Hard Frost,’ I have mentioned you before.
Millar, Midshipman.
Dead. A gunner; as worthy a fellow as ever lived; called ‘Tom
Pepper.’[69]
Richard Cole, Midshipman.
Dead. Dicky was an easy, simple fellow.
Emanuel Silva, Midshipman.
A magistrate for the county of Surrey; a gentleman; very much
respected.
Wm. Granger, Midshipman.
A vice-admiral of the blue. [Died 1848.—O’Byrne.]
Hugh Downman, Midshipman.
A vice-admiral; a very good officer. [Died, admiral, 1858—
O’Byrne.]
[John] Hollingsworth, Midshipman.
Killed in battle[70]; a lieutenant.
John Twisden, Midshipman.
A commander; a droll old guardo! [Died 1853.—O’Byrne.]
John Macredie, Midshipman.
Dead [1833]. A commander [1827]; a most worthy fellow whom
I have mentioned before.
Hugh Cook, Midshipman.
Dead [1834]. A post captain [1806]; called ‘Pot luck and what
not.’ Billy Lamb gave him this name, because one evening on
shore, when half seas over, he was asking every one in the
room to come and see him and take ‘pot luck and what not.’—
[Marshall, v. 160.]
Wm. Hugh Dobbie, Midshipman.
Dead [1830]. A post captain; an excellent character.—
[Marshall, v. 136.]
John Tresahar, Midshipman.
A commander; my worthy messmate. [Died 1844.—O’Byrne.]
J. S. Carden, Midshipman.
A post captain. He commanded the Macedonian when she was
captured by an American frigate of superior force. [Died, a
retired rear-admiral, 1858—O’Byrne.]
Edward Brace, Midshipman.
A rear-admiral and K.C.B. [Died, a vice-admiral, in 1843.—
Marshall, iii. 253.]
J. A. Gardner, Midshipman.
A commander.
David Spence 1st, Midshipman, lent.
Dead. A lieutenant; worthy fellow.
David Spence 2nd, Midshipman, lent.
Dead. A master; worthy fellow.
Robert Crosbie, Midshipman, lent.
Dead from drink; a lieutenant not worth his salt.
James Irwin, Midshipman, lent.
Dead. A commander; much respected.
Andrew Macbride, Schoolmaster.
Dead. Splendid abilities.
Crombey, Assistant Surgeon.
Dead. A surgeon; a man of prodigious strength.
John Liggatt, Assistant Surgeon.
Dead. A surgeon. Poor Jack lost his leg in action.
Geo. Gordon, Assistant Surgeon.
Dead. George was not very orthodox.
Duncan Campbell, Assistant Surgeon.
Uncertain. Much the gentleman.
Marsh, Assistant Surgeon.
Uncertain. Drank like a fish.
Lauchlin Maclean, Clerk.
Dead. A paymaster at Greenwich Hospital.
John Scott, Clerk.
Killed in battle [at Trafalgar]. Lord Nelson’s secretary.
Gardner, wrote in the office.
Dead. A very good little fellow; no relation of mine.
Geo. Gray, Gunner.
 Dead. Much respected.
Johnny Bone, Boatswain.
Dead, from drink; Cap-a-bar.
Watson, Boatswain.
Uncertain. Broke by court martial. Said to have been boatswain
with the notorious John Paul Jones when he took Sir Richard
Pearson and my old captain (Piercy) in the American War.
Douglas, Carpenter.
Dead. Builder at Antigua; much respected.
 BARFLEUR, 98

When the Edgar was paid off, Commissioner Martin[71] of the

dockyard at Portsmouth, recommended me to the Barfleur, Vice-
Admiral Roddam (red at the fore) port admiral, and Robert Calder,
Esq., captain. I had not been long on board when Captain Calder
took it into his head to recommend several of us to the Solebay, 32,
fitting at Spithead for the West Indies, and I was one of the number.
This did not suit my inclination, and I requested my mother to make
the circumstance known to the commissioner, who promised her
that I should not be sent out against my will. I waited with great
anxiety the result, and never shall I forget the manner Captain Calder
addressed me the moment he came on board. ‘Your mother is a fool,
sir; you shall not stay in my ship; take your hat off, sir’ (for we were
always obliged to stand with our hats off while speaking to him and I
was rather slack in doffing mine); ‘I will give you one month to
provide yourself with another ship, you are disgraced here;’ and then
turning on his heel went into his cabin. With rage and indignation at
such an unwarrantable attack, I sent in to say I would be glad to
speak to him if he was at leisure. This he immediately granted, and I
was told after by Jefferys, the clerk, who was in the cabin, that he
thought I had made up my mind to go, but he was mistaken. I told
him I came to return him thanks for his kindness in allowing me to
remain in his ship for a month until I could provide myself with
another, but if he pleased I would rather have my discharge
immediately. He looked at me for some time before he made an
answer; at last he roared out in fury, ‘You shall not go at all, sir; and
mind what you are about.’ I answered that I always did mind what I
was about. This increased his rage, and turning to the first lieutenant
(Dolling), who had just come into the cabin, ‘That’s a troublesome
chap, sir, take care of him.’ Now it happened that I had leave to go on
shore before Captain C. came on board and only waited till I saw
him, and was going into the boat, when Lieutenant Dolling came
waddling up to me with the intelligence that I was under arrest, and
to consider myself a prisoner at large; and so I was for upwards of
ten weeks, and the devil thank Bobby Calder for his kindness.
The Spanish armament taking place, we were ordered to
Spithead, and hoisted the flag (blue at the main) of the Honourable
Samuel Barrington, Sir John Jervis (rear-admiral of the blue) captain
of the fleet, and Captain Calder in command of the ship. Sailed for
Torbay, and took command of the fleet assembled there, until the
arrival of Lord Howe, which took place soon after, as admiral of the
fleet, the union jack being hoisted on board the Queen Charlotte, 110.
[72]
His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland, admiral of the
white, attended by Prince William Henry, who commanded the
Valiant, 74, came on board to visit Admiral Barrington, who had
formerly sailed with the duke. Admiral Barrington having shifted his
flag to the Royal George, 110, we hoisted that of Rear-Admiral Sir
John Jervis, K.B., and sailed to the westward with the grand fleet,
and found the old Barfleur an excellent sea boat. After cruising
several weeks the fleet returned, and when off Plymouth we struck
the flag of Sir John Jervis, and proceeded to the Downs and hoisted
the flag (blue at the fore) of Vice-Admiral Elliot, and sailed with
thirteen sail of the line for Spithead, where we found Lord Howe with
the remainder of the fleet, Captain Calder having been appointed to
the Stately, 64. Captain Robert Carthew Reynolds took command of
the Barfleur as flag captain. The chief part of the midshipmen being
removed to the Stately, Captain Calder sent for me and introduced
me to Captain Reynolds, and spoke to him in the highest terms of my
conduct, and among other things said I was particularly active in
going aloft, and if I wished to leave the Barfleur he would keep a
vacancy open on his books; but that the Barfleur being a flagship and
my pay better, he thought it the most eligible of the two to remain.
This was a civil way of parting to outward appearance friends.
The Spanish business being settled we remained at Spithead but
struck our flag. Soon after a mutiny broke out in the ship, which was
soon put a stop to, and the crews of the ships at Spithead (as many as
liked) paid off. The Russian armament commencing, Lord Hood
hoisted his flag on board the Victory, 100, and took command of the
fleet, consisting of thirty-six sail of the line moored in two lines
abreast, the frigates between, which had a most beautiful
appearance, and thousands from all parts of the country came to
gaze, and went back as wise as ever. Rear-Admiral Jonathan
Faulknor[73] (red at the mizen) having hoisted his flag on board of us,
that excellent officer Captain Reynolds left the ship and was
succeeded by Captain John Bourmaster, one of the best men that
ever lived. We remained a considerable time at Spithead until the
business was settled, and then went into harbour to be paid off.
I shall now relate as well as I remember a few circumstances that
took place in the Barfleur during the time I belonged to her. When
we had the command in Torbay, before the arrival of Lord Howe, we
exercised great guns and small arms every day, with loosing and
furling sails, and it was remarked by the fleet that they never looked
at the Barfleur without seeing the men crawling up the rigging ready
for some manœuvre and keeping them constantly on the alert. I have
absolutely been midshipman in the foretop when the sail has been
loosed and furled nineteen times; and long Lloyd (one of our
lieutenants) calling out from the gratings on the bowsprit, ‘Mr.
Gardner, will you have your hammock sent up to you?’—a common
expression in the navy. I could not help answering, ‘I’ll thank you,
sir, for I’m damnation tired.’ He was a good fellow and only laughed.
Our ship’s company were never surpassed. We had the pickings
of the East India men, and our waisters could take helm and lead,
and certainly we could have beaten with ease any two ships of a
foreign power of our rate, and a braver officer never stepped between
stem and stern than Bobby Calder. I had great reason to dislike him,
but I will do him justice as well as my humble abilities will allow. An
error in judgment is what every man is liable to. Even Napoleon, the
greatest man the world ever produced, was guilty of three great
errors: the first in not entirely crushing the Russian army when he
had it in his power after defeating the Emperor Alexander at
Austerlitz; the second in not reinstating the Poles; and the third in
not marrying a Frenchwoman after his divorce from Josephine.
Another great general also made a few blunders; and his retreat from
a certain citadel was, I have been told, anything but superior to that
of the ten thousand under Xenophon.[74] But to return. Sir Robert
Calder was found guilty of an error in judgment by the sentence of a
court martial; but no man can deny that he was a brave and
meritorious officer, possessing the first-rate[75] abilities of a British
admiral.
To some the pow’rs of bloody war belong,
To some, sweet music and the charm of song;
To few, and wondrous few, has Jove assigned
A wise, extensive, all considering mind.

The newspapers at the time were teeming with abuse; but the
braying of those asses soon sunk, and had no other effect than to
shew the malignity of their leading articles. One of the blackguard
papers was particularly vindictive. It was edited
by wicked Daniel,
Who snaps like a cur, and fawns like a spaniel.

From the number of flag officers and captains that were in the
Barfleur, we had so many of their followers of every description that
it is difficult to remember the whole, and we had six or seven
different first lieutenants. However, I shall give as correct a list as
possible, but not exactly in rotation. But first I must relate a few
anecdotes; and with heart-felt respect for your memory, come
forward my old friend Billy Culmer. This gentleman was one of the
mates and is or was so well known in the navy that it would be
superfluous to say anything respecting him, but for a few anecdotes
not generally known which may be interesting.[76]
Billy in person was about five feet eight or nine, and stooped;
hard features marked with the smallpox; blind in an eye, and a wen
nearly the size of an egg under his cheek bone. His dress on a Sunday
was a mate’s uniform coat, with brown velvet waistcoat and
breeches; boots with black tops; a gold-laced hat, and a large hanger
by his side like the sword of John-a-Gaunt. He was proud of being
the oldest midshipman in the navy (for he had been in that capacity
with Lord Hood since 1757[77]), and looked upon young captains and
lieutenants with contempt. Being on shore at Gosport on a Sunday in
the above costume, he tried to get into a tavern when the people were
at church, and was thundering at the door to no purpose, when the
late Captain N. H. Eastwood of the Royal Navy happened to be
passing at the time in plain clothes, made some observations on his
conduct, and said, ‘Mr. Culmer, you are a disgrace to the service.’
Billy at this jumped off the steps, and with his usual oath ‘Damn my
two eyes,’—though he had but one—‘but I’ll slit your gullet, you wa
wa——,’ and with two or three desperate efforts to draw his sword, he
at last succeeded, like Hudibras, in getting it out, and then gave
chase to Eastwood, whose lean figure, moving like a ghost, had got
the start and was fortunate enough to get into his own house just as
Billy came up puffing and blowing and bellowing out, ‘Stop that
lanky son of a —— till I make a razee of him.’
In the American War Billy belonged to the Buffalo, 60. I am not
certain that he was on board at the time the Dogger Bank action was
fought; however, he used to celebrate the praises of his old ship,
which bore a distinguished part in that well-fought battle. The Dutch
fleet commanded by Admiral Zoutman had a convoy under charge,
when our fleet under Vice-Admiral Hyde Parker fell in with them on
the Dogger Bank and bore down immediately to give battle. The
Dutch admiral formed his line to windward of his convoy, and waited
for our fleet, and to his honour be it said that he never fired a gun
until our admiral had formed his line within pistol shot, when up
went the colours of both nations and then the action began. After
several hours’ desperate fighting the Dutch bore away with their
convoy for the Texel, and we were so crippled that it was impossible
to follow them.
Billy would upon all occasions when sea fights were spoken of
sing the following song in honour of his old ship. It was made by a
seaman of the Princess Amelia.
’Twas on the fifth of August by dawning of the day,
We spied some lofty sail, my boys, who to leeward of us lay;
They proved to be Dutchmen, with eight sail neat and fine,
We soon bore down upon them, and then we formed the line.

Bold Admiral Hyde Parker commanded us that day,

Who in the noble Fortitude to the windward of us lay;
To engage the Dutchmen closely the signal then he made,
And at his fore topgallant mast the bloody flag displayed.

And when our ships they did engage with seven sail neat and fine,
The Buffalo being one of them, her valour it did shine;
For she engaged six glasses, her shot did on them play,
Though she had three upon her she made them bear away.
 There were the noble Berwick, Preston and Dolphin too,
Likewise the Bienfaisant, my boys, who made the Dutch to rue;
The old Princess Amelia was not backward on that day,
She lost her valiant captain all in the bloody fray.

Then our ship being so disabled and our rigging shot away,
And twenty of our brave fellows killed in the bloody fray;
And sixty-four were wounded, a dreadful sight to see,
But yet the rest were willing to engage the enemy, &c.

Billy was once singing the above ditty with a voice as melodious
as that of the raven, when old Bob Perkins (a droll old guardo
midshipman) began another that annoyed him sadly; but taking
great care to be in a place where Billy could not easily get at him, says
he, ‘Mr. Culmer, you never were a midshipman before you joined the
Barfleur, and it’s well authenticated that you were cook of the
celebrated Huffey so well known in days of yore.’ He then began
singing the following sonnet:—
Billy the cook got drunk,
Fell down the fore ladder,
And broke his gin bladder,
Then lived upon swipes and salt junk.

Billy the cook got drunk,

Fell into a sty,
And knocked out his eye,
Then into the sick bay he slunk.

As [Billy] had the meanest opinion of any one that would lay by
for sickness, the last line of the above threw him into such a rage that
Perkins, not finding his situation tenable, was obliged to make a
hasty retreat; but not before
he got a switch
As quick as lightning on the breech,

which hastened his way down the cockpit ladder. [Billy] was once
sitting in the gunroom cleaning a pair of huge yellow buckles, when
the same Perkins chalked on a board in large letters, ‘To be seen alive
—The old blind sea monster, cleaning buckles as large as the main
hatchway.’ The moment he got sight of the inscription, [Billy] caught
hold of a cutlass from the stand and cleared the gunroom in an
instant, and had very near given it to Perkins, whom he suspected.
He had a custom, when half seas over, of sounding a horn like a
huntsman and calling the hounds, and used to swear he would be in
at the death.
When he went to pass for lieutenant, one of the midshipmen and
Marr the boatswain went up to London with him. They found it no
easy matter to keep him in order, and he once swore to have them
taken up as runaway soldiers. When he went to the navy board to
undergo his examination he asked the commissioners the meaning of
the word ‘azimuth’ and told them he could never find any wa wa that
knew a word about it. Some of the board had been shipmates with
him and were well acquainted with his ways; and when putting him
right when answering a question, he would say, ‘Go on, go on, my
boy, that’s the way; you are very right,’ as if he was passing them;
and when they told him they had no more questions to ask, he said
he was glad of it and would go back to his ship like a lark.
One night soon after his return, when he had the first watch,
some of the midshipmen reefed his blankets—this is done by making
the ends fast and forming by numerous turns the blanket into the
shape of a ring very difficult to undo. As soon as he was relieved he
went to his hammock and groping about (for he never would take a
light into the tier), he was heard to mutter, ‘What the hell have they
done with the ends?’ and at last roared out, ‘A horse’s collar, by God.’
After several fruitless attempts to shake the reef out, he went upon
deck and brought down the ship’s corporal and quartermaster with a
light, and ordered them to clear his blankets; but they were as unable
as himself, while the midshipmen in the tier were convulsed with
laughter, and Billy, foaming with rage, drove away the corporal and
quartermaster, calling them lubberly wa wa ——s. At this time a cry
was heard from a remote part of the tier, ‘Lay out, you lubberly
rascal, and shake the reef out.’ At this Billy lost all patience, and after
damning his two eyes he unshipped the orlop gratings and got some
billets of wood out of the hold, and in less than a minute the tier was
cleared. Soon after some of the watch came down and put his
bedding to rights and all was quiet. The same compliment that
Cicero paid to Cæsar may also be paid to Billy, “that he remembered
everything but an injury.” The next morning he thought nothing of
the matter.
 Speaking about the Roman history respecting the battle of
Actium between Augustus and Antony, he said he was in the battle
and remembered all about it. The fact was he mistook the name and
thought it was some place where he had been in the American war.
He never heard the last of this, and when speaking of any battle
where he had been present, was always asked if it took place thirty
years before Christ. Captain Calder once sent for him to go in the
launch for beer to Weevil.[78] ‘Go back,’ says he to the quartermaster,
‘and tell Captain C. that Mr. Wood’ (meaning Lord Hood, who he
never called by his right name) ‘never sent me away at seven bells
and I shan’t go now without my dinner. As soon as I have got that I
will go like a lark—damn my two eyes.’ Of course this was not told
the captain.
While we had Admiral Roddam’s flag in the harbour, a Dutch
ship of the line anchored at Spithead and used to fire the morning
and evening gun, without our taking notice of the circumstance.
However, Bobby Calder soon found it out and came on board in a
terrible rage, and gave the commanding officer (Prowse) a severe
lecture, and told us all to prepare for a court martial for neglect in
not reporting the transaction; at the same time sending a message to
the Dutchman that if he persisted in such conduct a ship of the line
would be sent alongside of him. This the Dutchman did not relish
and took himself off as quick as possible.
Captain Calder was a man that had the service at heart and was
a very strict disciplinarian. We dared not appear on deck without our
full uniform, and a round hat was never allowed; our side arms
always on the quarter deck ready for duty, and when exercising sails
the midshipmen in the tops were to be in full dress. I remember
when the signal was made for all lieutenants while lying in Torbay,
that several came on board not exactly in uniform. He, without
hearing a word they had to say, turned them out of the ship with a
severe reprimand—old Lieutenant Noah Webb (with his crossjack
brace[79] eye), who commanded a cutter at the head of them; and
when the late Sir Joseph Yorke (then a lieutenant) came on board at
Spithead with strings in his shoes, Captain Calder came running out
of his cabin and desired him to quit the ship immediately; and
though Sir Joseph told him he was not on duty, it was all to no
purpose; he kept following him to the gangway saying, ‘My hat’s off,
sir; you must go out of the ship,’ which the other was obliged to do in
high dudgeon.
In working the ship no one was allowed to speak but himself,
and I have seen the Barfleur brought to an anchor and the sails
furled like magic, without a voice being heard except his own.[80]
Sedate and silent move the numerous bands;
No sound, no whisper but their chiefs commands;
These only heard, with awe the rest obey,
As if some god had snatched their voice away.—Iliad.

No ship in the navy was in such high order. The midshipmen’s

berths were fitted up in great style (the beginning of luxury which the
war soon after put a stop to), with rules and regulations. If a candle
was taken off the table a fine of sixpence must be paid; and a shilling,
if a hat was hung up in the berth or left on the chairs. This was all
very well for the dandy aristocracy, but did not suit some of us that
formerly belonged to the old Edgar; and Dick Heycock was the first
to kick, and refused to abide by the regulations laid down by a proud
and usurping few; and we carried our point, and things went on
much better when the petty tyranny was abolished. Captain Calder
would always bring the nobility that visited the ship to see the
midshipmen’s berths, and used to say: ‘This is the place where all the
admirals and captains in the service are tried every day, and where
no one escapes being hauled over the coals.’
No man could be more attentive at his table, and he would
particularly address himself to the midshipmen, and even ask their
opinion upon different subjects, to give them confidence. Mrs. Calder
was very fond of boat-sailing, and we had a large double banked
cutter in which she would go to Spithead when blowing very fresh,
and carrying sail as if in chase until the boat’s gunwale was under, so
that everyone thought she was mad; and very few liked the trip
except in fine weather, as she would always feel offended if any
attempt was made to take in sail.
Among the many first lieutenants, we had one that was very
pedantic. I shall not mention his name, but his nickname was Soap-
Suds. The signal being made for all midshipmen, the order[81] was
that a preparative flag would be hoisted before any manœuvre began,
but when hauled down it was immediately to take place. Now not
content with what was written in the order book, he addressed the
midshipmen as follows: ‘The idea strikes me thus, that when the
preparative is hauled down, the evo-lu-ti-on will most certainly
commence, and this pennant is your signal.’
We had another strange first lieutenant—this was Billy
Chantrell, well known in the service. In giving his orders at night he
used to say, ‘Call me at six, and don’t come bothering me about
blowing and raining and all that damned nonsense.’ I was with him
in three ships and never met with so droll and strange a fellow. In
passing Fairlight, near Hastings, on our way from the Downs to
Spithead, Chantrell, pointing out to me the cliff near the church on
Fairlight Down, said, ‘Jemmy, how would you like to be perched up
there in the winter?’ Little did he imagine that in some years after,
when the war broke out and signal stations were erected along the
coast, he should be the first officer appointed to this very spot, and I,
the last; which was the fact.
We led a very lazy life at Spithead for several months, and it was
expected we should strike upon our beef bones, as we never shifted
our berth. We had nothing to do but row guard and go for fresh beef.
Captain Bourmaster lived at Tichfield, and if anything particular
happened a boat was sent with a midshipman to Hellhead or near it
with the orders. On one occasion Mr. S——s, a midshipman, was
dispatched in the cutter and took some of the boat’s crew with him to
Tichfield. On their return, passing by a farmyard, a flock of ducks
and geese began to quack and hiss at them. The midshipman
considered this as a declaration of war, and ordered his party to
prepare for battle and to engage close, which was instantly obeyed,
and after a short contest the enemy took to flight and several of the
ducks were captured. Now the midshipman had read a little of
British history, and particularly remembered that part where
Richard the First in Palestine, and Henry the Fifth at Agincourt, put
their prisoners to death. He immediately followed their example, and
ordered the ducks to be slaughtered. Now the difference between
those great men was this, that Richard and Henry buried their
prisoners or got somebody else to do it, but the midshipman carried
his off; and seeing in an orchard near the farmyard a number of fruit
trees heavily laden, he thought it just that those who began the war
should pay the expenses, which was no new thing in modern warfare,
and gave orders to his party to fill their jackets with pears and
apples, observing that it would ease the trees of their burthen and the
boughs would be in less danger of breaking down. Now all this was
very fair; and peace being restored, the midshipman addressed the
farmer (who had come up with the reserve, but too late to assist the
main body after their defeat): ‘I say, old Hodge, I wish you joy to see
your nose and chin come together after being separated for so many
years. But harkee, old chap, if I should come this way again, and your
feather-bed sons of —— begin their capers, I’m damned if I don’t
stop the grog of every mother’s son belonging to you.’ So saying, he
returned with his dead prisoners, and the war was considered at an
end. But the farmer, being bloody-minded, was of a different
opinion, and breathing revenge, went and made his report to Captain
Bourmaster. The captain, after coolly and deliberately weighing and
investigating the transaction, came to the following conclusion: That
Mr. S——s and his party, instead of going direct to their boat, did go
this way and that way, and every way but the right way; and on a
certain day, and in a certain lane, did kill, or did slay, or did murder
or put to death several ducks, and did keep, and did hold, and did
maintain the same, without any right law or title; and for such
conduct Mr. S——s was sentenced to be dismissed from the Barfleur,
and his party to have slops served out to them at the gangway.[82] The
midshipman thought this extremely hard, and on leaving observed
that had the case been tried before a jury he was sure they would
have brought in a verdict of justifiable duckicide.
A curious bet took place between our chaplain and one of the
officers. The wager was that the latter would bring a man who would
eat eight penny rolls and drink a gallon of beer before the parson
could walk a mile. Now the reverend gentleman was a great
pedestrian, and could walk a mile in less than a quarter of an hour.
The ground being chosen, one began to eat and the other to walk at
the same moment, a gentleman being placed at each end with
watches that corresponded to a second, when the parson to his utter
amazement, after he had walked three-quarters of his mile, met the
other, who had with ease finished his rolls and beer, and was
unwilling that his reverence should have the trouble of walking the
whole mile and therefore came to meet him. The reverend
gentleman, like most clergymen, played well at whist, and once
sitting at his favourite game, our signal was made, and the order was
for the chaplain to attend a man that was to be hanged next morning.
This broke up the game, when one of the officers observed: ‘Doctor,
you have lost the odd trick; but never mind, the fellow you are going
to attend has got nothing by honours.’
 OFFICERS’ NAMES
[Robert] Roddam, Vice-Admiral, Port Admiral.
Dead [1808]. An admiral. Had his flag on board the old
Conquistador, 60, in the American war, as port admiral at the
Nore, at the time Mr. Fegan [post, p. 214] was sent onboard.—
[D.N.B.]
Hon. Samuel Barrington, Admiral of the blue.
Dead [1800]. A great officer. See his masterly manœuvre in the
West Indies.—[D.N.B.]
[John] Elliot, Vice-Admiral.
Dead [1808]. This first-rate officer captured after a severe
action the French squadron off the Irish coast commanded by
Thurot, who fell in the contest. He also commanded the Edgar,
74, in the action when Don Langara was defeated and taken by
Admiral Rodney. He commanded at Newfoundland as
Governor of that island; a great astronomer and an able sailor.
—[D.N.B.]
Sir John Jervis, K.B., Rear-Admiral.
Dead [1823]. Earl St. Vincent, admiral of the fleet; needs no
comment here.—[D.N.B.]
Jonathan Faulknor, Senr., Rear-Admiral.
Dead [1795]. A most able officer who had seen a great deal of
service, and no man understood it better.
Robert Calder, Esq., Captain.
Dead [1818]. An admiral, a baronet, and K.C.B. I have already
spoken of him.—[D.N.B.]
Robert Carthew Reynolds, Captain.
Dead [1811]. A rear-admiral; unfortunately lost on the coast of
Denmark, in the St. George, 98; a brave and meritorious
 officer. [D.N.B.]
John Bourmaster, Esq., Captain.
Dead [1807]. A vice-admiral; one of the best men that ever did
honour to the British navy. [Admiral.]
John Dolling [or Doling], 1st Lieutenant.
Dead [1795]. A post captain with Admiral Rainier in the East
Indies.
Paddy Lee, 2nd and then 1st Lieutenant.
Dead. A commander; a strange, droll hand.
[John] Mathews, 3rd Lieutenant.
Dead [1798]. A post captain [1793]; a first-rate seaman.
Benjamin Hallowell [afterwards Carew], 4th Lieutenant.
Dead [1834]. An admiral and G.C.B.; a brave and skilful officer.
—[D.N.B.]
Robert Savage Daniel, 5th Lieutenant.
Killed on board the Bellerophon, 74, at the battle of the Nile; a
loss to the service.
Wm. Prowse, 2nd and then 1st Lieutenant.
Dead [1826]. A rear-admiral [1821], C.B.; a worthy man.
Ross, Lieutenant; I forget how he stood.
Dead. A satirical gentleman and would be thought a poet
because he wrote a play that was damned, and some poems in
doggerel rhymes of scurrilous merit.
James Nicholl Morris, 1st Lieutenant.
Dead [1830]. A vice-admiral, K.C.B.; a very brave and
meritorious officer. He commanded the Colossus, 74, at
Trafalgar.—[D.N.B.]
Geo. Grey, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead [1828]. Hon. Sir Geo. Grey, Bart. [1814], K.C.B.; late
commissioner at Portsmouth yard.
Wm. Chantrell, 2nd, 3rd, and 1st Lieutenant.
Dead. A very droll and strange fellow.
[Robert] Lloyd, Lieutenant.
I believe a vice-admiral of the blue [1837. Died, vice-admiral of
the white, 1846.—O’Byrne].
Richard Simmonds, Lieutenant.
Dead. Was an agent of transports and lieutenant at Haslar
Hospital. Nicknamed Gentleman Jack, because he came to see
us in our berth in the cockpit, and said he was the gentleman
below, but the officer on deck.
James Carpenter, Lieutenant.
Vice-admiral of the red; since promoted to be admiral of the
blue [Jan. 10, 1837. Died, admiral of the white, 1845.—
O’Byrne.]
Daniel Dobree, Lieutenant.
Dead. A post captain [1802]. See Blonde.
[Thomas] Bowen, Lieutenant.
Uncertain. I believe a post captain [1798]; fiery Welshman.
[Griffith Bowen, his servant. Died 1809.]
Andrew Bracey Taylor, Lieutenant.
Dead. A good officer.
[William] Elliot, 1st Lieutenant.
Dead. A commander. See Salisbury.
Philip Charles Durham, 2nd Lieutenant.
Admiral of the white, G.C.B.; port admiral at Portsmouth.
[Died 1845.—D.N.B.]
Nicholas Kemp, Lieutenant.
Dead. A commander [1797]; a most worthy fellow.
Jackson Dowsing, Lieutenant.