The Vessel Read online

  The Vessel

  Jenika Snow

  THE VESSEL

  By Jenika Snow

  www.JenikaSnow.com

  [email protected]

  Copyright © July 2020 by Jenika Snow

  First E-book Publication: July 2020

  Photo provided by: Adobe Stock

  Cover Designer: Lori Jackson

  Editor: Kayla Robichaux

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  About the Author

  Create an heir or I lose the family business.

  The final decree from my father on his deathbed, a millionaire who cared more about his business and money than what his son wanted in life, than if his son was happy.

  I had a year to find a woman and convince her to have my baby or I’d lose everything. It was easy enough with the socialites who hung around in hopes I’d be with one of them.

  But it would never happen.

  I wanted a woman for my own, someone I could love, who could see past all my money and wanted me for me and not how I could advance their life. Yet at the end of the day, women only wanted me because I had deep pockets.

  But then there was Elise. My employee. A woman who I needed to keep a professional relationship with. I didn’t see her as a means to an end. I saw her as the only woman who sparked life inside me with just a look. The only woman to have ever done that.

  I hadn’t desired someone in a long time, hadn’t wanted a woman in my bed for longer than I’d admit.

  I wanted to say screw it with my father’s demand, and if that meant losing everything, so be it.

  But could Elise be the one to give me everything? Happiness, love… a baby?

  1

  Lucius

  “You have to be fucking kidding me.” I didn’t even bother censoring what I said.

  Leave it to my father to fuck me over even from the grave.

  I leaned back in the leather chair and stared at my father’s attorney. Francis had been a bastard of a man to everyone he came in contact with, a God-awful father, and a possible sociopath if I really thought about it. But he’d been a brilliant businessman, could rub two pennies together and turn them into hundreds.

  He showed me zero compassion and love while I’d been growing up, instead pawning me off on nannies and maids who raised me. He’d been a strict fucker, showed no remorse when I’d been a crying child because of his rants, but I guessed all of that shaped me into who I was today.

  Since my father started Blacksmith, the brick-and-mortar consumer loan market company, a decade ago, I’d since taken over this avenue of the family business, so we now streamlined and incorporated it into an online venture. We can now help approve loans faster than banks. The success and hard work of Blacksmith now created a worth of 2.5 billion dollars.

  He might not have been liked for his personality, or lack thereof, but people respected him, because he was a shark and legacy in what he did.

  For many years, I felt sorry for him and myself. Because of him, I had a hard time connecting with people on an emotional and even personal level. It was hard for me to open up to anyone, to be real.

  Another big “fuck you” from my father that would last me until the day I died.

  “Theodore, please tell me this is a joke.” My father passed away just last week, a heart attack taking him in the middle of the night. I’d been surprised I felt a twinge of sadness. But then I remembered Francis Blacksmith hadn’t been a good man, especially to his only son.

  The only form of affection I’d gotten had been from the nannies, even some of the estate staff who didn’t have sticks up their asses thanks to my old man. But even then, they’d shown me kindness in secrecy, afraid of my father’s wrath.

  Because emotions signified weakness, and nobody got higher in life by not having a backbone. Or so he told me many times over.

  My father didn’t have a child out of love. He had a child so he’d have an heir to pass his company down to... so his name would never die.

  And the bastard was forcing my hand on my personal life now.

  “Mr. Blacksmith, although I admit the stipulations in your father’s trust are quite… particular, unfortunately, they are ironclad in this instance.”

  I scoffed at the words coming from Theodore Jackson. I’d know my father’s attorney for my entire life—thirty-seven long fucking years. Hell, I knew the only reason he was even still practicing was because my father made him. The old man would’ve been done and retired by now, probably would now, given the fact that there wasn’t a threat of my father’s rage hanging over his head.

  “So what you’re telling me, Theodore, is that I’m shit out of luck?”

  Theodore pushed his thin, wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and pursed his lips, taking on a serious expression. “In so many words, Mr. Blacksmith, yes.”

  I looked past the attorney through his office windows, the city sprawling just on the other side of the glass. Lifting a hand, I ran my palm over the back of my head, no doubt mussing the short dark-blond strands.

  In order for me to inherit anything, and I meant anything that was attached to the Blacksmith name, which I worked toward and built for decades, I had to produce an heir in a year’s time. I didn’t need a marriage of convince, didn’t even need anything more than a surrogate, according to my father’s last words.

  I just needed a biological heir.

  If I got that, the Blacksmith fortune, the companies, the properties and everything that entailed, stayed mine. And if I failed... well, I lost everything.

  As easy as it sounded, given the fact that there were enough money-hungry women who ran in my circles, ones who would be more than willing to give me what I wanted and be attached to the Blacksmith name in some form, this entire thing disgusted me.

  I may have never saw myself finding a woman to spend the rest of my life with or have a family together. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about it, wished that had been in my cards. My father had been a cold, heartless bastard. He might have engrained some of that apathetic nature in me through learned behavior, but the truth was, I’d love to have children, a wife who I loved, and the whole “dream” of being a family man.

  So my options were pretty black-and-white.

  Knock up a female to get that heir in twelve months.

  Or kiss the Blacksmith legacy goodbye.


  2

  Elise

  “No, no, no.”

  I clenched my teeth and refrained from snapping back at Merla, the “head housekeeper” for Lucius Blacksmith, which I knew she gave herself the title because there were no tiered employees working for the man. It wasn’t like she got a raise by calling herself that, so I thought she was just a crusty old woman who was stuck in her way and wanted to make everyone follow her lead.

  But she’d been here the longest, knew damn near everything, right down to how Mr. Blacksmith liked his coffee and at what time in the mornings, so everybody respected her and just fell in line. And I didn’t want to ruffle feathers, so I did what I was told.

  I might not have bene here for very long in the grand scheme of things, but I was professional at every avenue, but I really didn’t like someone berating me, even bitching about the way I polished the mahogany fireplace mantle.

  I kept my mouth shut and just continued polishing. Merla was working behind me as we tag teamed Mr. Blacksmith’s study.

  When I first worked here and saw this room, it was instantly my favorite. Three out of four of the walls were nothing but built-in bookshelves, paperbacks and hardbacks lining the massive solid wood shelving. I’d always been an avid reader, and being here was like I’d fallen into the rabbit hole as if I were Alice. I didn’t even care that almost all the books were about law or similar topics. I was just transfixed by it all.

  I looked over my shoulder even as I continued polishing the mantle. Merla was busy working on the coffee table, her polishing meticulous. I had to give her credit, because she was damn good at what she did.

  I glanced over at the bookshelves again, my secret love. More times than not, I thought about sneaking in here, grabbing one of the few non-law books, and sinking into the massive, distressed, brown leather loveseat that sat in front of the fireplace. I imagined curling up and letting the heat from the fire warm me on the outside, while a good book did the same on the inside.

  When I saw Merla start to move away from the table, I quickly turned back around and focused on the mantle.

  Once we were finished with the office, we made our way to the next room. Lucius Blacksmith’s home was massive at three levels and a square footage that was no doubt in the five digits.

  Why did one man need so much room? He wasn’t married, had no children, and I’d never seen or heard of him with female companionship. He certainly never brought anyone back to the house, at least not when I was working. Maybe this was a family home? I only knew the bare basics of him from the staff, and of course the little I could find online. There was loads on the internet about his business life, but his personal side was almost non-existent.

  But what everyone kept saying, what I kept reading, was that Lucius Blacksmith was one of the hottest, most eligible bachelors. And yeah, he really was.

  I moved around the living room and started going to work there, and about twenty minutes later, I heard Mr. Blacksmith enter through the massive double front doors. I could hear his no doubt shined, expensive leather loafers padding over the granite foyer. His routine was always the same when he came home.

  He set his large, heavy-looking suitcase by the door, the one that had his name embossed on the side, the lock at the top always gleaming gold as if he just polished it.

  He hung up his suit jacket on the hook by the door then made his way into the kitchen, where I knew he poured himself a glass of scotch.

  I made my way out of the living room with the small bucket of cleaning supplies. I lifted it up and pointed to the empty spray bottle, the natural concoction I personally mixed, a formula my grandmother taught my mom and my mother taught me.

  It was a mixture of lavender, a few other essential oils, vinegar, water, and a couple other family secret ingredients that was so much better for the gorgeous, natural wood in Lucian’s house, and it made me feel better knowing I wasn’t using a bunch of chemicals.

  Merla gave me a nod, as she understood what I was doing. She went back to cleaning.

  The truth was, I had a whole full bottle in my bucket. I just wanted an excuse to check out Lucius. I liked seeing him in his suits when he got off work, the power that always surrounded him, but it seemed even more potent when he just got out of the office.

  For months, I’d been lusting after my employer, but I wasn’t stupid enough to tell anybody, to be unprofessional, or to be caught staring. Instead, I did things like pretend I needed to do a refill of the cleaning supplies.

  I made my way into the kitchen and turned the corner to step into the room. The kitchen screamed of wealth and modern decor. Stainless steel appliances, white marble countertops, coordinating cupboards with rose gold accents. I didn’t even want to think about how much all this actually cost.

  I saw him before he saw me. Lucius Blacksmith and his intimidating form leaned against the counter. He had one foot crossed over the other, a palm braced on the counter beside him, and a bottle of beer in his free hand. On the granite next to him was a bottle of scotch, the cap facing up beside it, and an empty glass next to that. He tipped the bottle back and took a long pull from it, and as I stepped farther into the kitchen, my bucket hit the wall, causing a loud, echoing noise. That, in turn, had Lucius glancing over at me, the bottle still to his mouth, his eyes locked on me. His expression gave nothing away, just this stark, stoic mask covering his gorgeous, masculine face.

  I gave him a small, polite smile, but inside I was a wreck, nervous as if I were under a microscope and he was examining me. I felt his eyes track my every move as I made my way over to the sink. I set the bucket on the counter, the bottles rattling around slightly. I chanced a look over at him; of course he still stared at me, probably wondering why I couldn’t take my focus off him.

  Lucius was a man in every sense of the word, exactly what I envisioned a real man was like. God, how he probably was in bed… how he’d take care of a woman in more ways than one.

  “How is your evening going, Elise?”

  I knew my eyes were wide. I felt them, like I was a deer caught in headlights, unable to do anything but be frozen in place. He knew my name. Sure, I’d been working for him for the past three months, but aside from a few small interactions, hellos or goodbyes, good evening or good morning, Lucius didn’t really speak with me. We shared plenty of pleasantries, but hell, even those didn’t mean he knew every employee on his payroll. And, it wasn’t like he hired me. Everything had gone through Merla.

  I nodded. “Good. Thank you, Mr. Blacksmith.” I hated that my voice betrayed my emotions. I felt my face heat because of that and quickly turned away from him to face the sink, trying to hide as much as I could.

  For a moment, I forgot why I was even in the kitchen then realized I needed to “make another batch of cleaner.” But I could still feel him watching me, his gaze heavy and thick, but I tried to ignore it despite the fact that I wouldn’t be able to do the simplest of tasks right now because of him being so close.

  I bent at the waist and opened up the cabinet underneath the sink, gathering what I’d need. I happened to glance over at him, and my breath left me when I saw where his focus was.

  On my ass.

  It’s not like I was wearing anything remotely revealing or attractive. All the staff wore the same thing. Either black slacks and a white cotton T-shirt, or a black knee-length dress with a white apron around the waist. I tried on the slacks at first, but the material felt restricting and itchy, so I just went with the dress, which was far easier for me to work in. And the fact that Mr. Blacksmith was staring at me—at that part of my body—had this flash of heat stealing over my entire body.

  He slowly lifted his eyes to look up at me, and if I thought he’d act shamed or even guilty that he’d been caught checking me out, I was sorely mistaken. There wasn’t one ounce of embarrassment over the fact that I caught him looking at my ass. Instead, he brought the bottle up to his mouth and finished it off as he stared me in the eyes, this heaviness coming from him.r />
  I could have sworn he almost seemed… proud that I’d seen him.

  “That’s good you’re doing well.” His voice was so thick and deep. He set the empty beer bottle down on the counter and shoved his hands in the front pockets of his slacks.

  God, he looked good in that dark suit, the white shirt underneath crisp, the red tie a contrast. He had the shirtsleeves rolled up his forearms, and I couldn’t help but notice how muscular they were, vein-rippled, with a light sprinkling of dark-blond hair covering them.

  I straightened and tried to breathe through this sudden arousal. If Merla saw me not doing work, she’d probably be pissed despite I was conversing with the boss. Merla was a stickler for procedure and professionalism; that was for sure. And I didn’t think Lucius checking out my ass fell into that category.

  I licked my lips and gave him another smile. “Thank you. I hope your day is going well too, Mr. Blacksmith.”

  “Call me, Lucius. Mr. Blacksmith was my father.” His voice was deep and authoritative. I could picture him in a boardroom, commanding everyone with a simple string of words.

  I wasn’t sure what else to say, how to respond. For long seconds, we just stared at each other, this intense moment in which we held each other’s gaze. It felt extremely… intimate.

  “Elise, we need to start getting to work on the second level.”

  I heard Merla call out to me, and a second later, she stepped into the kitchen. I glanced over my shoulder at her, saw her posture stiffen as she took in Lucius standing just a couple feet from me. I looked over at him and saw he still watched me, paying no attention to the fact that we were no longer alone.