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Chapter One - Ryan
BehindtheHaleSecurityfirm, the summer sun beats down heavily on a group of robust men as they train in pairs. It has only been an hour and a half since we started preparing the newcomers. Yet the group has already begun to tire.
Looking at the new employees, I can't help but be disappointed.
My friend, a colleague, and my firm's new employee trainer, Gray Henderson, comments, "The newcomers have the stamina of ten-year-olds."
Watching the group struggle to pace their breathing, I scoff, "You're getting it wrong. Ten-year-olds have better stamina. You see just a bunch of old men in front of you."
Gray chuckles as I read the details on the tablet before me. "So, what are your orders, captain?"
Dissatisfied with the results, I almost bark out the order, "Have them complete ten more sets of burpees, ten sets of squat-jumping, and ten laps around the field."
Gray winces, "Damn, you're out for some newcomer blood, aren't you? They're not going to like you much after today."
"It doesn't matter if they don't like me. They work for me, so they'll do whatever I tell them. If they don't like it, they can quit. So can you, Henderson." I say as I smack Gray on his back, making him grunt in pain.
Obviously annoyed, Gray turns and tries to rub his back futilely to ease the pain as he glares at me. "You never miss a chance to smack my back, do you?"
I shrug as my cell rings, "When did I do that?"
Just as I turn to answer the call, Gray shouts, "I hate you!"
"You love me!" I reply smugly.
Answering the call, I hear my sister's voice come through. "Ryan, when will you get here?"
Walking toward the parking area, I lie, "I'll be there in half an hour."
"Don't tell me you're at your firm!" Gwen knows me well, but sometimes I hate that she knows me too well.
Putting the car in gear, I back out of the parking lot and assure her, "Don't worry. I'll be there soon."
"You better be because I'm not waiting for you if you're too late." Gwen was starting to irritate me.
Frustrated, I know I will be late. I say with a mini eye roll, "You're having lunch. It's my treat if you wait for me."
"Great! Don't hurry up and get here, dear brother." I scoff, imagining the annoying smile she would have on her face as she ends the call.
Annoyed, I slip my phone into my pants pocket and drive recklessly. I'd rather die than give in to my sister.
My name is Ryan Hale. I'm thirty-two years old, an ex-military captain, the owner of the Hale Security firm in Chicago, and the heir to America's most prominent business empire.
Chapter Two - Jenna
Istareatmybest friend, Gwen Hale, as she smiles wide when she ends the call, probably feeling smug after bullying her brother. Sitting across the table from her in my light blue, floral-patterned chiffon blouse tucked neatly into plain fuchsia pink pants, I ask, "You're never going to stop bullying your brother, are you?"
"Why should I stop?" Confused, Gwen looked at me as if she had never considered the thought.
Realizing it would be useless to convince Gwen to do something she doesn't want, I focus on my turkey, tomato, and cheese sandwich accompanied by black coffee made from pure Italian coffee beans. I moan, digging into my lunch and coffee. I've been starving the entire morning, working with only air as fuel and depending on splashing water on my face to stay awake. Now that I'm having lunch, I feel like the happiest person in the world.
My name is Jenna Hart, twenty-nine years old, a journalist working for News Daily – a local newspaper, and a single mother with a beautiful son named Cale. "A young single mother!" people would exclaim, but unfortunately, Cale's father and I were high-school sweethearts, separated not by state law but by the natural law of life and death. Since then, I have stayed away from other relationship prospects, too scared of reliving the emotional breakdown I faced when my husband died. I wanted to know if I could handle it and still look after Cale.
But my decision doesn't stop my best friend, Gwen, from finding numerous romantic prospects for me. The possibilities seem so endless that my friend looks almost obsessed with finding a boyfriend for me. Nearly every time she brings someone to introduce me, I feel guilty about wasting her efforts.
Suddenly Gwen starts, sarcasm marking her words, "Geez, Jenna. Would you stop making out with your sandwich? If it weren't for your previous husband, I'd think you had a thing for sandwiches. So why waste our time looking for humans for you to date? We could order whatever sandwich you'd like to go out with."
Feeling playful, I joke back, taking another bite of the sandwich while inserting a deliberate moan. "Mmmmm. That's for sure. 'Cause whatever a guy can offer, I'm sure this sandwich can do much more."
