Capturing the Goddess Read online

  Capturing the Goddess

  An Alpha Billionaire Romance

  Lucy Eden

  Copyright © 2018 by Lucy Eden

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/ or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

  This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.

  No one is related in this book.

  Hello Dear Reader,

  Welcome to my newest steamy story, Melted.

  If you’re into love at first sight, steamy sex scenes, audacious yet innocent heroines, brooding alpha males & happy endings, you’ve come to right place.

  This is a standalone story so you don’t need to read any of my other stories to enjoy this one, but I highly recommend that you do.

  Be sure to visit me online & let me know what you think:

  website: lucyeden.com

  instagram.com/lucyedenauthor

  twitter.com/lucyedenauthor

  email: [email protected]

  All my best,

  Lucy xx

  Contents

  Preface

  1. Gaia

  2. Trevor

  3. Gaia

  4. Trevor

  5. Gaia

  6. Trevor

  7. Gaia

  8. Trevor

  9. Gaia

  Also by Lucy Eden

  Athena

  Grant

  Tessa

  Charles

  About the Author

  Preface

  Gaia

  I've never been a nanny before, but I've always loved children. I'm an artist, well, an art student. My professor/ mentor recommended me for a job as a nanny for one of her friends. She knew I could use the money and I was grateful for the opportunity.

  I threw on what I hoped looked professional; a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt and a pair of black leather pumps. I tamed my waist length brown hair into a feasibly polished looking bun and traded my usual contacts for my glasses to complete the ensemble.

  I arrived with ten minutes to spare and rang the door of a large townhouse in the historic district. A severe looking man in his sixties opened the door.

  "Miss Wesley." He said before I had the chance to open my mouth. It was a statement, not a question. "Mr. Edwards is expecting you. Right this way."

  Mr. Edwards, I thought to myself, and at that very moment realized that I did zero research on my possible future employer. I didn't even know his name. As I followed my guide through the house, I desperately studied my surroundings hoping to learn something, anything about the family that was about to trust me with their children possibly, or child, I didn't know.

  The house was impeccably decorated but surprisingly colorful, and whoever Mr. Edwards was he had fantastic taste in art. The walls were adorned with an eclectic mix classic an contemporary pieces including works by Basquiat, Haring, what I would swear was an actual Monet, and sitting on a small table in one of the many sitting rooms was what looked like a Kusama pumpkin. How in the world would someone get a Kusama pumpkin for their house? Then it hit me: Mr. Edwards, the large townhouse, and the extensive collection of priceless art, both contemporary and classic. This was the home of Trevor Edwards.

  Trevor

  When my long-time colleague and friend, Victoria Swenson, recommended one of her students to help me care for my children, I was quite resistant to the idea. It had been five years since I'd lost my wife and the thought of putting myself through the hiring process for something so intimate as childcare was not an idea I relished. Olivia had hired our children's first nanny, and Mrs. Bast had remained with us for years. She cared for us during Olivia’s illness and guided the children and me through our grief. Six months ago, she decided to retire and help her daughter raise her grandchildren. Naturally, Liam and Eloise were devastated, and I was beside myself. Losing Edna would be like losing Olivia all over again. She had handpicked Edna Bast from dozens of applicants, and she was the only mother figure the children had known. How could I possibly hope to replace her? Running a billion-dollar corporation was easy. There was no emotion involved. I could hire and fire at will, but choosing a person to help raise your children, without input from their mother, whom they'd barely known was quite another story. I offered Mrs. Bast an embarrassing amount of money to stay on, but she refused, insisting that I was ready and was perfectly capable of finding the right person. She specifically said the word "person" not nanny.

  When Frederick led Miss Wesley into my study, I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't her. For starters, she was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She was dressed demurely, but I could instantly tell it was a facade. She gave the impression of a young woman trying to appear older and more sophisticated, but when she fixed her eyes on me, I sensed something of a wild, untamed spirit. I felt something awaken inside me and I wanted nothing more at that moment than to possess her. I felt myself getting rock hard as I imagined crossing the room in long strides, ripping her blouse open sending buttons scattering across the floor and burying my face in soft, fragrant skin of her breasts. I hadn't felt this way before, and it was confusing. I pushed it out of my mind and focused on the task at hand.

  I dismissed Fredrick, took a seat at my desk to hide my massive erection and motioned for Miss Wesley to sit. I could tell by the way she moved that she was untouched. How she managed to remain a virgin for twenty-three years, five of which in art school was beyond me but she had the unmistakable walk of a maiden. If I had my way, that wouldn't last. I had asked Victoria not to reveal my identity to her prospect, but I could immediately tell by her expression that she had worked out who I was. Absent from her face was the usual opportunistic hunger that the women I'd come in contact with over the years unsuccessfully tried to hide in the presence of a single grieving billionaire with two young children. The look on Miss Wesley's face told me she wanted nothing from me and in that moment I wanted to give her everything.

  Gaia

  Trevor Edwards. I was sitting in the office of Trevor Edwards. It was no wonder Professor Swensen didn't bother to mention the name of the person who wanted to hire me. I probably would've been too nervous to show up.

  Trevor Edwards was the founder and CEO of Pax Industries. I know it's a multinational, diverse company, but what Trevor Edwards is known for, what I know him for, is that he is famous for being a patron of the arts. It's where his fortune began. He has a talent for seeing the beauty and potential in works of art (and artists) and turning it into millions of dollars. The story was, and I'm not sure if this right, but it's pretty damn cool, that as an art student he found a Rembrandt at a yard sale, purchased it for $40 bucks, restored it himself and sold it at auction for four million dollars. He used the money to start Pax as an auction house, and the rest is history.

  And now here I sat, in the same room, potentially interviewing to be his nanny. I wondered if it was too late to run out the room, but my guide, whom I learned was named Fredrick, closed the door behind him as he left
.

  “Soooo, Gaia?" He was reading my resume. I didn't even remember handing it to him, but I must've because it was no longer in my hand.

  “Yeah, Gaia.” I stammered. “It’s the Earth Goddess. My parents were hippies.” I laughed nervously.

  "I'm familiar. So are you a fan of Gaia?" His face was inquisitive, but I couldn't read his expression. What I did know was that he was the sexiest man I'd ever seen. I've seen the rare photo in the paper or on the news, but nothing compared to seeing the real Trevor Edwards up close.

  He was gorgeous. I knew he was in his early thirties, but he had a ruggedly handsome boyish face with sparkling green eyes. He was tall, at least six feet, with a broad chest and well-defined muscles. He had been wearing a suit, but the suit jacket and tie had been draped over a nearby chair. His crisp powder blue dress shirt had the top two buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up. I imagined him scooping me up in his big strong arms, laying me across his desk and making me a woman, his woman. I suddenly realized that he'd been staring at me, expectantly. He'd asked me a question. I was so entranced in his emerald eyes I hadn't bothered to answer.

  “Ummm, the Earth Goddess?” I blurted out, wondering how much time had passed since he asked the question. “Yeah, I guess I’m a fan of the Earth…” I trailed off looking down at my hands folding in my lap. I felt like an idiot. Had I just told Trevor Edwards I was a fan of the Earth? I struggled with the feeling of simultaneously wanting to run out of this townhouse and never look back and not wanting to embarrass Professor Swensen. I chose the latter and stayed in my seat. When I forced myself to look at him, I saw he was smiling. He had the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen on a man, with dimples. And when he smiled at me, he smiled with his eyes.

  “I was referring to Gaia, the artist.” He replied, obviously struggling to stifle a laugh. Of course, he meant Gaia, the other Gaia. I wanted to sink into my chair and disappear.

  "I'm a big fan," I started nervously, "I love the way he uses iconic figures and themes and incorporates them into modern urban landscapes..”

  “He’s a hack.” He cut me off. “Tired. Overdone. He just a…”

  “Excuse me?!" I interjected. I suddenly was no longer embarrassed, and while I can't remember exactly what I said after that, I remember having a heated debate about the future of modern art and place of street artists in the hierarchy. I vaguely remember composing myself enough to thank Mr. Edwards for the interview hoping it was enough to save face with my professor.

  As I stood on the stoop of the townhouse after Fredrick saw me out, I knew three things for sure: I would not be getting the job as the nanny, I had argued with one of the most important people in the art world and that I was hopelessly in love with him.

  Trevor

  It had been two days since my interview with Gaia Wesley, and she's occupied every waking moment. She was beautiful, intelligent and she ignited a fire in me that I had long thought extinguished. If any other person would have spoken to me the way she did they would have lived to regret it, but I wanted to punish my little goddess by grabbing her, tearing her clothes off and fucking her until she screams my name, begging for more. I also wanted more. I wanted her, all of her. I wanted to possess her, keep her, hold her in my arms and never let go. She was the first person I encountered in years that wasn't interested in my money or connections and wasn't afraid to challenge me if she didn't agree with my opinions. I didn't know how much I needed that until I'd insulted the artist who shared her name. Her iridescent blue eyes flashed, and at that moment I was gone. I was hers, and she needed to be mine.

  “Daddy!” I heard a high pitch squeal from outside my study where I’d apparently been spending too much time staring at an empty chair, her chair. “C’mon, we gotta leave now, or we're gonna be late!” It was Eloise, my six-year-old daughter and the only person who could tear me away from my tortured thoughts, besides Liam, her eight-year-old brother. They were dressed up, Liam in a miniature version of the tuxedo I was wearing, but he insisted on a bow tie that covered in cartoon webs as a nod to his favorite superhero and Eloise looked perfect in a pink confection covered in rhinestones and matching bow for her dark auburn curls. "Auntie Victoria is waiting for us. Now, let's go!"

  "Yes, ma'am!" I chuckled, and we climbed into the car and headed to the opening of a new gallery across town.

  As we pulled in front, there was already a crowd of photographers. We exited the car and the kids, spotting Victoria, scrambled out of the car screaming, "Auntie Victoria!"

  “Check out this sweet bow tie!”

  “Do you like my dress? Watch me twirl!”

  “You two look amazing!” she beamed. “Let’s go inside. There’s a chocolate fountain!”

  Two sets of little eyes lit up and raced for the door. We followed them inside.

  "Daddy, can we go get some chocolate?"

  “Yes, Liam just keep an eye on your sister and stay where I can see you.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell him not to get his tux dirty?” Victoria smirked.

  "Hell no. What if someone told an eight-year-old Jackson Pollock to keep his clothes clean?" She smiled at that and turned to face me.

  “So, how was your interview? Isn’t Gaia great?”

  I rounded on her, “What on earth were you thinking sending that girl to my house? You should have seen the way she conducted herself. She blew up at me because I insulted an artist she liked.”

  “Hmm, sounds like someone I know.”

  “I would never act that way in a professional setting.” She shot me a look that said, Really? I pretended not to see it. “I’ve never seen anything like it, Vic.”

  “So,” she inquired still smirking, “you liked her that much?”

  "What exactly are you…" I stopped mid-sentence. I saw Liam a few feet away completely engrossed in the chocolate fountain, but no sign of the cotton candy pink dress and bouncing brown curls. "Do you see Eloise?"

  Victoria shook her head, her eyes scanning the crowd.

  "Liam," I called quickly closing the distance between us, with Victoria close behind, "Where is your sister?" Liam, who was in the process of sliding a giant chocolate covered marshmallow in his mouth, looked around frantically then up at me and shrugged.

  “I’ll check the bathroom,” Victoria called over her shoulder, already in transit.

  I called the head of security, who was a few feet away.

  “I need you to cover all exits and keep an eye on my son.” I gestured to Liam. “We’re looking for a little girl in a pink dress.”

  "Yes, sir." He started barking into a radio attached to his jacket as he followed me around the gallery. I had a feeling I knew where she was headed. For a six-year-old, Eloise had forgotten more about art than I had ever learned by the time I was her age. She also had an innate talent for recognizing good art, something she inherited from her mother. We were only searching for a matter of seconds when I spotted what looked like a large puff of cotton candy with feet and taller woman in a black dress, both with waist length chestnut hair. They had their backs turned to me, and they were standing in front of an oil painting of a woman sleeping. Eloise was talking animatedly with the stranger, pointing at different aspects of the painting. The head of security approached me to speak, and I quickly held a finger to my lips and nodded in his direction. He nodded back and whispered into his shoulder, "We got her. Original positions everyone." before backing out of site and disappearing around the corner.

  I turned my full attention back to the pair admiring one of Henri Matisse’s most famous paintings, on loan from Madrid.

  “…It’s his daughter.” Continued Eloise, unaware she was being observed. “Her name is Marjory, I think.”

  “Marguerite.” The mystery woman and I said in unison. Eloise whipped around at the sound of my voice. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “Daddy!” She ran and jumped into my arms.

  “Eloise,” I squeezed her tight, trying to squeeze the last terrif
ying three minutes out of my mind. “I thought I told you to stay where I could see you.”

  “I’m sorry Daddy, but I wanted to see the sleeping lady again, and look… I made a new friend!”

  I looked up and in the direction that Eloise was eagerly pointing.

  I was face to face with Gaia Wesley.

  Gaia

  "Her name is Gaia, Daddy." My new little friend said excitedly. I was frozen, rooted to the spot. I had come to interview at his house and instead insulted him, now he finds me with his daughter, who had apparently been missing. Despite my shock and embarrassment, I still could help noticing how sexy he looked in his perfectly tailored tuxedo like he'd just stepped out of a spy movie. The way he was so tender and loving to little Eloise, I felt like I would collapse if I didn’t sit down soon. "Same as the guy you like that paints on buildings." I snapped to attention. I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at him. He was a fan of Gaia after he allowed me to rant and rave in his study like a crazy person. He returned my gaze with a raised eyebrow and mischievous grin. I was both turned on and furious, but I still couldn't bring myself to speak.