Controlling Interest: Erotically Bound, #3

By Francesca Hawley

It's hard to keep things strictly business when the naturally submissive Mozelle “Mouse” Vincent challenges Torin Stuart at every turn and he finds there's more at stake than a controlling interest in the exclusive BDSM club they now share. Because love is the ultimate prize in their power exchange.

Note: This title was previously published.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Francesca Hawley
• Release date: Feb 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524285081

Francesca Hawley

Hi. I’m Francesca Hawley and I’m a fat chick. A woman with dangerous curves just like my heroines. Many people don’t like the word, “fat” but I do because it’s the truth and I’ve learned to own it. I am a fat chick and I always will be. When I first began to read romance, the heroines were all thin. I kept wondering, where were the fat heroines? I wanted to read about a fat chick who loved herself—or at least learned to love herself—and a hot alpha hero who liked her jiggly bits just the way they were. Since I didn’t find many big girls to read about, I decided to write about them, so Francesca Hawley – author of Romance with Dangerous Curves was born. In a Francesca Hawley romance, my readers will find authentic, sensual, fat heroines who love and are loved by their intense, passionate, and seductive Alpha heroes. I hope you enjoy their dangerous curves just as much as their hunky heroes do. Web site: http://www.francescahawley.com Blog: http://www.francescasmindstream.blogspot.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/francesca.hawley Twitter: https://twitter.com/francescahawley Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/francescahawley Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/FrancescaHawley

Book preview

Chapter One

"She did what?" Torin Stuart rose from his chair with a roar.

Mouse was entirely grateful that the lion’s roar was directed at his late mother’s attorney and not at her, but the attorney was unperturbed.

Your mother left her controlling interest in your club Erotically Bound to Ms. Mozelle Vincent.

"But Mother knew..."

Please sit down and allow me to finish reading the will in a proper manner, Mr. Stuart.

Tor ran his fingers through his bright ginger hair and glared at her briefly before sitting with a growl. Mouse kept her hands tightly around her purse. He’d been really kind in letting her stay in the townhouse his mother had set aside for her use, but with this news, he’d probably toss her out on her ass. Damn it. She thought she was done with being homeless.

Ms. Vincent, shall I continue? Mouse nodded. Very well. The lawyer cleared his throat. I leave my controlling interest in the amount of fifty-one percent in the club Erotically Bound to Ms. Mozelle Vincent. In addition, I will her the townhouse and all furnishings thereof in which she has been living for the last five years. The estate will pay property taxes for two years, but then, and I quote ‘you’re on your own’. Do you understand, Ms. Vincent?

Mouse’s jaw dropped. That townhouse was stunning. Huge and smack in the center of Washington D.C. with a multicar garage. It was located in the historic Capitol Hill district, just blocks from the Capitol building and Pennsylvania Avenue. The place was worth...millions.

Ms. Vincent, do you understand the terms of the will regarding the townhome?

Yes, I own it and Regine’s estate will pay the first two years of property taxes then it’s my responsibility.

Precisely.

Is that all? Can we discuss my club now?

The lawyer frowned at Torin over the top of his reading glasses, his bushy white brows extending over the frames. I have not finished. Please remain silent until I do, sir.

Tor waved his hand with a sigh and the lawyer nodded. Mouse wanted to laugh at the byplay between the two men, but she was too shocked. What had Regine been thinking?

She had to have had an ulterior motive for doing this, God knew, she always did. Regine Stuart was always three moves ahead of everyone else...a master strategist. That was how she’d managed to be one of D.C. society’s reigning queens. When Regine spoke, everyone listened...even the president.

Ms. Vincent, please attend.

Mouse looked up as the lawyer admonished her. Sorry. She shrugged.

Finally, for—and again I quote—surviving six years in my employ as my downtrodden Jill-of-all-trades and for making my final years a pleasure instead of a burden, I will Mozelle Vincent twenty million dollars.

Ice filled her body before unbearable heat melted her emotions. Her jaw dropped, but she was so utterly shocked she couldn’t move. Then she burst into uncontrollable tears. Throughout most of her life she’d hadn’t had a pot to piss in, but then six years ago she literally tripped over Regine Stuart and her world had completely turned on its head. The lawyer rose and approached her.

My dear, are you quite all right? He awkwardly patted her shoulder and she nodded, still trying to cover her abrupt emotional response.

She hated crying. She hated losing control of her emotions. She hid whatever she felt behind a façade of calm, which was something Regine had always valued in her. And it was something they had in common. Even if the world came crashing down around them, both she and Regine could remain calm to pick up the pieces and move forward.

Mouse glanced at Tor, worried that he’d think she was being overly dramatic or that she was getting money she didn’t deserve, but he seemed moved by her emotional display rather than scornful. When she could catch her breath, she cleared her throat.

Don’t mind me, really. Go on with reading the will.

There isn’t too much more. The lawyer returned to his desk. To my household staff...

Mouse stared at her perfectly manicured fingers as the lawyer finished. Those nails were a luxury she’d gotten used to with a steady paycheck and Regine’s insistence that she look polished at all times. God, if she had walked past the Capitol building five minutes earlier or five minutes later six years ago, she and Regine never would have met. Regine had given her a chance when no one else would. Sometimes miracles really did happen.

This concludes the last will and testament of Regine Stuart.

Can we discuss my club now? Please... Tor growled as he turned to her. Mouse, how much do you want for it?

The lawyer held up his hand as the remaining beneficiaries filed out of the room, leaving Mouse alone with the lawyer and Tor.

I’m sorry, Mr. Stuart. Your mother left explicit instructions. Mouse...rather Miss Mozelle is required to hold her interest in the club for a minimum of six months. Under the terms of the will, the two of you are required to work together during that time.

Tor opened his mouth then closed it again. He stood and began to pace. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and the most amazing ass she’d ever seen. Add a stunning body to his ginger hair and bright blue eyes and he was a package of mischief that made better women than her melt and get silly.

Mouse looked down at her hands out of habit. Ever since she began to work for Regine, she’d quietly had the hots for Tor, but putting that attraction to the test was unthinkable. First, she was sure Regine wouldn’t have been keen on having her assistant flirt with her son. And second, and most important, Torin Stuart had been seen escorting tall, slender and decidedly beautiful super models around town—his lovers had most definitely not been chunky personal assistants with frizzy, flyaway, boring brown hair and dull brown eyes.

Mouse... Mouse, did you hear me?

She met Tor’s blue-eyed gaze and felt the blush crawl up her neck. Damn.

What?

He sighed and rolled his eyes. You’ve had a tough six years working for Mother. Just relax for the next six months then I’ll offer you a great price for the interest in the club.

The lawyer cleared his throat, causing Tor to whip around. Damn it, Thompson. What the hell is it?

"Your mother required you to work together to manage the club. If any of the terms of her bequest are violated, the shares will be sold...but not to you."

What?

"If the two of you don’t work together, or if you make an offer for her shares before six months have passed, which she accepts, then the shares will be sold to anyone but you."

The shares belong to Mouse. She can sell to whomever she wants.

No, I’m afraid not. If she goes against the terms of the will, she loses everything your mother willed to her.

God, she didn’t want to challenge Tor about this, but she wouldn’t go back to living on the streets. She just wouldn’t.

She cleared her throat. I’m sorry, Tor. I have to abide by the will.

I thought you were different. He snorted, shaking his head. But it’s always about money.

Says the man who’s always had it, she retorted sharply.

Tor frowned at her. Damn it, Mouse...

She waved his words away. I’ve been careful with my money, but I will not toss your mother’s largesse down the drain as if it has no value. I just won’t.

He ran his fingers through his hair. I can make it worth your while.

She cocked her head at him, raised her brows and crossed her arms.

He opened his mouth to argue then closed it again, turning to the lawyer. Okay, what did Mother do?

The lawyer took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. If Miss Vincent forfeits her inheritance by violating the terms of the will, you also forfeit your inheritance.

Which means?

"Your mother left you the bulk of her estate. Both of you must abide by the terms of the will or you both lose...everything. Your inheritance will go to charity instead."

And my club?

The shares for your club will be sold by this firm to the highest bidder—but that bidder may not be you.

Son of a bitch!

Yes, you are, Mouse muttered.

You just called my mother a bitch.

Mouse laughed. She was and she knew it. In fact, she considered it a badge of honor.

Tor chuckled. You’re right. She did. Their gazes met, and Mouse felt it right down to her toes. I can stand it, if you can, he growled.

Stand it?

Working with me at the club.

Oh right. I’m sure I can manage. I was a good assistant to your mother.

His brows shot up. You aren’t the assistant anymore, darlin’ Mouse. You’re an owner.

Her belly tightened. She wasn’t just an owner... I’m your boss now. Aren’t I, Tor?

He winced. It would seem so.

It is so, Mr. Stuart. Ms. Vincent is indeed the primary owner of your...um...club. Mouse frowned as the older man grew flustered.

What’s the name of it again?

The lawyer studied her and she gained the impression from the intensity of his stare that he was trying to decide if she was playing some game. She wasn’t. She couldn’t remember anything after she found out Regine left her the townhouse.

The club is called, he tugged the neckline of his shirt and again mopped his brow with a handkerchief, um...Erotically Bound. It is a rather special sort of club.

Tor smiled for the first time since the big announcement. Special indeed. That’s a genteel way of putting it.

I don’t understand. Is it a strip club or something?

Or something... the lawyer muttered, glancing at Tor.

She shook her head. It either is or it isn’t.

Tor cleared his throat. "It’s a private—members only—BDSM club."

Mouse blinked then she began to blush. You mean like whips and tying people up?

Still interested in being my boss? Tor grinned.

She straightened. I can handle it. Can you?

For six months, I can be the submissive.

She put her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. "You? Submissive? I’ll believe it when I