Love Notes

By Jason Miller

Sometimes we plan life down to the very small and minute details. We shift and rotate priorities so that our desires will match the outcome. But then there are other days...

Grant knew it was time. No one told him; he just knew, but explaining it to others wasn’t something he looked forward to. His parents were old and definitely, wouldn’t understand and Veronica... well, Veronica would probably split a side seam in her very tight and very expensive designer dress if she found out. And she would find out.

The first pure romance novelette by Jason Miller, bestselling author of "To Be a Master: an anthology of erotic pokemon stories" "Can't Stump Donald J. Trump" and "White Wives Matter" comes the timeless tale of Mr Grant Ambrose media tycoon and his trials and tribulations balancing a public life exposing others with his own personal secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Miller
• Release date: Jan 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370030101

Jason Miller

Jason Miller (Inominandum) has devoted more than three decades to studying practical magick in its many forms. He is the author of six books, including the now classic Protection & Reversal Magick as well as Consorting with Spirits, Real Sorcery, and The Elements of Spellcrafting. He teaches several courses online, including the Strategic Sorcery One-Year Course, the Sorcery of Hekate Training, and the Black School of Saint Cyprian. He lives with his wife and children in the mountains of Vermont. Find out more at StrategicSorcery.net.

Book preview

Love Notes

Published by Jason Miller at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Jason Miller

Chapter 1

Grant knew it was time. No one told him; he just knew, but explaining it to others wasn’t something he looked forward to. His parents were old and definitely, wouldn’t understand and Veronica… well, Veronica would probably split a side seam in her very tight and very expensive designer dress if she found out. And she would find out.

Though Veronica topped the list of potential naysayers, they were other females in Grant Ambrose’s life who would certainly ring his phone when the news spread of the situation.

Of course, confidentiality agreements had to be signed and the emphasis of secrecy had to be impressed upon the chosen one. However, this was Virginia Beach and privacy was a long dreamed of fallacy. Grant should know… his expertise and profession could be summed up in the colloquial statement, ‘to explain is to expose.’

The moniker in the lobby of his building announced his business in grand style and people had come to expect even more grand things from his organization. He would not disappoint, but he didn’t care to have his latest ‘initiative’ ousted. The impossibility of secrecy didn’t evade his ever ticking mind as he entered his office that Sunday morning.

The office of Mr. Grant Ambrose was quiet as was expected on a day like today. He relished in it even though it was entirely unnecessary. He could have had four solid walls like regular bosses but he was the one who insisted on his office being designed in an old-school fashion - Venetian blinds on glass walls, a door that offered no real security and absolutely no sound proofing at all.

It kept Grant connected to his staff in a ‘Peter Parker, Johan Jameson’ type manner. As Editor in chief of ‘The Explainer,’ and unlike the grumpy old editor of comic book fame, Grant believed the staff was his lifeline and didn’t adopt the antagonistic manner of his childhood idol.

Back then, in the beginning of his adult life at twenty-two years old, he had a problem- probably a challenge that most socially conscious young people experienced – the world didn’t make sense. Majoring in Journalism and Publishing only cemented his desire to do something about the half truths and web spinning that the media perpetuated. Grant made up his mind not to fail.

To say it was a rough beginning would be an understatement. Grant’s parents could not understand how their academically progressive son could drop their family values to run a rogue operation. Mary and Tom Ambrose were convinced the feds would kill their son or they would preempt that by dying from embarrassment. The latter or former hadn’t occurred so far and they were both surprised.

The newspaper Grant ran and owned wasn’t a tabloid, but it wasn’t necessarily a regular news outfit either. The publication’s mission was to present the stuff regular people watched or read on the news daily, and break it down into layman’s terms.

Simple enough premise, but the execution was a whole other matter. Grant had learned several lessons – some hard and some even harder - about the fickle nature of human beings. So far he had evaded jail and fought and won four liable suits- there were still two or three running through the court system.

People didn’t like their business revealed on the printed page and they definitely didn’t like that Grant became quite rich off of it, so when the ‘injured’ parties saw his financial jugular vein exposed, they went for the kill.

As he flopped down into the antique overstuffed office chair behind his equally antique desk, Grant exhaled and forced his head back almost violently into the head rest. Something had been bothering him and regardless of the rationale he tried to present his ego with, the annoying voice of his conscience refused to be silenced.

It was something she said. Perhaps he should have known it would come from her mouth eventually- her body language had been saying it for a long time but love could be blinding.

Grant had been dating Veronica Langston for three years. They didn’t live together but they did appear together in public quite often.

Veronica had modeled in her early twenties. Actually, she was ‘the’ model everyone wanted and her image appeared on countless magazine covers which sat on her resume right next to the many endorsements and honorary endowments she earned. If modeling were an empire, certainly, she would be queen.

Grant was thirty-two with a net worth of several million and she was now twenty-eight with her own fortune. They were a money couple if nothing else and the world took notice.

Because of his controversial business, the people who ran the real tabloids made it their business to record and report on even the most mundane happenings of the couple’s life.

The media almost broke when he publicly bid on a rare diamond intended for their engagement. The reaction from the airwaves was no less turbulent when one of the staff in his beach house leaked it to the world that he had broken the engagement with her less than twenty-four hours later. Grant let Veronica Keep the ring.

Really and truly, their break up should not have surprised any mature and right thinking person. The trained eye could see the veil or mask of a relationship that had no depth. As a matter of a fact, Grant’s mother often asked how he could stand such an uppity brat, but Grant’s dismissed his mother’s concerns as just maternal overprotection.

Introspection would have done him well. Unfortunately, it was too late for that now and with hindsight and twenty/twenty vision up close and personal, Grant had no choice but to cut his losses and move on.

The intended nuptials were scheduled for December – Veronica’s favorite time of the year- they had long discussed it and as usual, Grant let her have her way. Having a fine dinner at his house wasn’t odd for them and the night after the engagement was no different.

The hopeless romantic maids and housekeepers at Grant’s mansion needed no prompting in the decorative side of things and the entrance hall quickly became flooded with lilacs and Lilies creating a most enchanting aroma. The dimmers created a calm and intimate effect while the intoxicating scent of lobster and other delicious edibles traveled through the house.

The butler didn’t open the door for Veronica tonight. Instead, her husband to be greeted her at the door with a smile to rival a child at Christmas.

In her typical dramatic style, she emerged from her Limo with assistance from the driver wearing a stunning thigh length yellow sun dress. A gentle sea breeze threatened to reveal more than Grant was willing for the driver to see and Veronica flipped her waist length blonde hair to add to the alluring moment.

As her sequined, heeled sandals made their way up the cobblestone steps, Grant marveled that had been so lucky as to snag a trophy such as Veronica Langston. Joining him on the landing, Veronica leaned in for a formal peck on the cheek, but Grant thought as intended man and wife, there was no need for formality.

He circled his well worked on arms around her narrow waist and pulled her close for a deep kiss. Veronica participated but hesitantly so. Leaning back to look into her eyes, Grant inquired what the problem was. Her blue eyes held a look he didn’t recognize and she dismissed his concerns with s smile and a wave of her hand.

When dinner was well underway, Veronica revealed her thoughts.

I have been thinking about a few things Hun…

Grant froze in suspended animation- his fork full of seafood paused mid-air.

His father had always said nothing good came from a conversation with a woman who started off with those words.

Ok. I already knew something was up… let me hear it.

Veronica hung her head and toyed with one of her golden strands before blurting out, I don’t want children Grant. I cannot imagine ruining my body to produce any little being who will undoubtedly take over my life.

Grant’s fork hit his almost empty plate with an unintentional clatter. Clearing his throat, he leaned back in his carved mahogany dinner chair and resisted the urge to comment as Veronica’s speech had obviously not come to an end.

She let out a nervous laugh in a weak attempt to calm the suddenly unsettled atmosphere before rushing to continue. I think we’re doing just fine… you know… just me and you…

Grant stroked his manicured goatee while listening to his bride to be, wondering if she had been victim of a nervous breakdown. Never before had she said anything to indicate she wouldn’t be a willing participant in making babies.

The sad scene faded from his mind and Grant drifted back to the reality of his office where he sat – alone. And Grant smirked at the irony of his situation – sure a five ft eight, hundred and ten-pound model, would want to have three children and give up her Versace dresses for old navy jeans, soccer games and Ballet recitals. How very obvious Grant muttered to himself.

Time to move on. Well, Grant told himself, it was time to move press forward with his life, but with caution. Regardless of how superficial his relationship had appeared to the world, Grant had loved Veronica. It hurt to be ripped away from her even though it was his choice.

Never again would he ever allow anyone to enter his heart in that way but If that was the case then why was he here in his office early on a Sunday morning waiting to do a deal that would do just that?

Why did he ask the other participant in the pending meeting to walk with the information? Information to help him make a decision that would ultimately bind him to another human being in an almost inseparable manner? Grant had no answer. The compulsion indeed was unexplainable.

Eight am the clock said, and a knock came on the glass door but there was no need for that because Grant had seen the man, well doctor, enter the empty newsroom through the glass. He motioned with his hand for him to enter and after the two men exchanged pleasantries, the meeting that would change Grant’s life and ultimately the lives of others, got underway.

***

There were options and then there were choices. At least according to Claire’s mother but at this point, she could see none of these options or choices clearly. There was foreclosure or eviction… whichever came first. There was quitting the lousy job or getting fired from it by the putrid looking manager who stayed on her case. There was stealing the Ramen noodles or starving. Talk about a rock and a hard place!

At four thirty pm her shift at Telecorp ended and Claire was the first one off the phones. Piece of crap job and a piece of crap life... She muttered to herself while yanking the headset off her face. She had hung up on Mrs. Grace who had spent the last hour trying to figure out how to enter the Wi-Fi pass code on her brand new laptop. Claire didn’t care about how the old woman figured it out – it was time to get out of dodge.

Mrs. Charles, the demon supervisor from hell, lifted her head over the cubicle separator just as Claire touched the locker room door where her purse lay locked away. She pretended she didn’t hear the ugly, relentless woman and quickened her step.

Apparently, Mrs. Charles wasn’t deterred that easily and before the fleeting employee could enter the lock combination, she had busted into the room. Cornered, Claire breathed a sigh of anguish before gathering the courage to face the dragon.

Predator and prey faced off and there were no witnesses as to how it would go down. Someone may emerge bleeding… Claire remained hopeful that it wouldn’t be her and drew for her best defense tactic.

Oh, Mrs. Charles I am so sorry I have to go so quickly. My mom is in the hospital and I need to get there before visiting hours end…I know you understand how it is… it was so sad when your own mother passed away last year.

The grieving look on the mature woman’s face could break anyone’s heart but it didn’t affect Claire. The act had been well written and planned for this occasion- the execution couldn’t be more lethal.

Oh my God Claire… I had no idea that your mother was ill… yes, yes,I do understand the situation now.

Tears welled up in her puffy makeup-less eyes and Mrs. Charles went from fire-breathing dragon, to a lamb, meek and mild. Mission accomplished Claire finally walked away from the place that held her captive for the last eight hours.

While she was physically free, Claire still felt mentally and emotionally captive. She had no friends on the job and regardless of the sad story she had fed the supervisor, her mother had been dead for many years.

Her dad remained alive, but he too had his challenges and what could he really offer her? Absolutely nothing, and right now Claire needed something tangible – more specifically, food.

One of the reasons she tolerated her job was the free coffee. It could keep a person going for an entire day without lunch and broke as Claire was, it proved vital to her survival. The noodles at home - a staple in her otherwise empty cupboard- had ran out and the temptation to break the law became very real.

Life in Green Run where Claire lived wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good. Some places looked nicer than others but it could never be as grand as where the well off and established lived. The crime in her area fluctuated and the lawlessness could sometimes be disheartening, but Claire told herself that things were like this everywhere and the good and bad were inseparable on many levels.

This evening, the bad inside of her willed to come out as she paused in front of the small convenience store on her block. Mr. Singh, the owner, knew her and her shopping habits very well. Once a week- Fridays to be exact- she bought six packages of noodles, six eggs, a loaf of bread a carton of milk and sometimes a Snicker. It was all she could afford and he knew it. Sometimes he gave her the Snicker for free.

How very odd would it be for her to enter his store, walk around and then walk back out without purchasing anything? On a scale of one to ten, she would rate the oddity at about eleven.

Walk to the mall, Claire told herself, maybe you will have a better strategy by the time you walk back this way.

Sure she lied about her mother to her supervisor