The Dragon Shifter´s Chosen Mate: Billionaire Bad Boy Pregnancy Young Adult Romance Read online

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  The Dragon Shifter´s Chosen Mate

  A Paranormal Romance

  By Jasmine Wylder

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter One

  Cara looked at the bags that were being pulled out from under the bus. She walked, with only a small weekend bag and her purse, away from the greyhound station. She’d brought nothing with her but the few essentials she’d tucked into her little bag a few weeks ago, back when she’d had the foresight to create a hidden “getaway” bag.

  She pushed her large dark sunglasses onto her face, pulled her baseball cap down low on her forehead then looked around.

  “Need a ride?” a man’s voice came from behind her.

  Cara jumped at the sound. Her heart hammered and she put one fluttering hand to her chest.

  “You ok?” the man asked, looking Cara over, deliberating over her intense reaction.

  "I'm fine," Cara gave a half smile. Of course, it wouldn't be Dimitri, couldn't be Dimitri. Cara tugged at her hat one more time. She watched the man's eyes trail over her body.

  If she hadn't packed her bag with some normal clothes she would still be in the mini dress and knee high boots that she'd left the Vegas hotel in. The small clothes had strained against Cara's big curves just the way Stavros had liked it. He'd loved showing off Cara's curves in Gucci, Prada, and Dior… until some other man looked a little too hard, then he would take it out on Cara as if she'd been the one who picked her outfits.

  There was a slam of a car door and a rush of fear slid down Cara’s spine. For a moment she remembered the sound of Stavros’ head hitting marble. She’d never heard a sound like that. Her life would never be the same because of that sound.

  “…the Yankees?”

  Cara realized that the man had been asking her something. She understood it must have been about her hat.

  “Mm,” Cara made a non-committal sound and walked away from the man and his prowling eyes. She touched her Yankees hat. Her father had given it to her as a child. Cara gave her face a little pat. It was time to focus.

  She shivered as she stepped out into the sun. The humidity draped itself around Cara like a damp towel but still her skin still prickled. Stavros’ flesh had never felt so cold. He’d always been hot to the touch.

  “Focus,” she whispered to herself.

  Cara pressed her fingers against the small slip of paper in her jeans pocket and her mind went to the seventy-four dollars in her wallet. Seventy-four dollars was all she had left after buying her bus ticket.

  By the time she pulled up to the address that she’d spent nearly two days traveling to, her seventy-four dollars was down to fifty-two.

  Cara begrudgingly tipped the cab driver and walked up the driveway to a small guardhouse. It was a small glimpse of the vast network protecting Marco Martinez’s fifty million dollar estate.

  “Hi, I’m Cara Slovenyak, Maria Ruiz is expecting me.” Cara flashed her best smile. She’d already taken off her hat and fluffed her hair in the car.

  “Give me a second,” the man put up a finger and stepped back into the little structure. Cara had been preparing herself for this. She knew she had to play it the right way or everything could fall down around her.

  Though he didn’t know it yet, Marcos Martinez was the only person who could keep her safe and his house was the only place she would be able to stay alive.

  “Your name isn’t on the list, is she expecting you?” The man came back out.

  “I talked to her a week ago. I am supposed to be a new housemaid.”

  “House maid?” the man looked at her Chanel bag.

  Cara inched the bag further behind her body, “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll be wanting Mrs. Caulfield, she’s the head of all house staff.”

  "Oh, thank you, Randy," Cara read the man's nametag and he smiled briefly at the sound of his own name.

  Randy went back into the building and picked up the phone. Cara’s stomach clenched, she didn’t know anything about a Mrs. Caulfield.

  Cara had begun dabbling in the idea of her escape almost a full year after the first time. Stavros had come home raging and drunk that night. His casino had lost a lot of money and he’d lost control. The first slap was cold hard reality, surprising in every way. Then he'd nearly broken her arm. After that, he was able to control his temper less and less. Then nothing mattered, his casino did well and still he lost control, a man looked at her too long and he lost control, she spilled his drink and he lost control.

  She knew hot blood ran in his veins that he was capable of much more than what he showed on those shadowy nights that she cried herself to sleep. She knew that if she stayed she would die. So she’d packed a weekender, pulled a name from his work contacts, a name she knew could save her, and she’d called Maria.

  But it had all gone wrong. So wrong.

  “Mrs. Caulfield will see you,” Randy hit the gate button and a large privacy fence opened.

  A man pulled up on a golf cart. He took her weekender from her and Cara stepped in. She rode in silence up a long winding driveway. A golf course was on their left, and they passed tennis courts, then a swimming pool on their right. Cara felt more like she was in a country club than a private residence.

  The house was magnificent. Huge windows stretched from floor to ceiling on most rooms. Cara could see a young woman vacuuming on the first floor next to a grand piano, giant paintings, and prolific sculptures. The golf cart turned and wound around the side entrance.

  The staff entrance, Cara thought. Only a few days ago she’d had staff of her own, but that had come with a price.

  A tall, thin woman with stylish gray hair came out of a side entrance as the golf cart stopped.

  “You are Maria’s replacement?” The woman had a crisp British accent.

  “Yes,” Cara said the word before she had time to second-guess herself. When had Maria left? Why had Maria left?

  “Judy never mentioned you were coming,” Mrs. Caulfield was looking her over.

  Cara decided not to say anything to this, better to say too little than too much and be found out.

  “Well, come on then,” Mrs. Caulfield turned with an impatient head nod. Cara whirled around but the golf cart was already gone and her bag was next to her feet. She picked it up and hurried behind the elegant older woman.

  “Staff eats together in the kitchen, meal time
s depend on the household schedule. This wing of the house is for staff use and the main wing of the house is only for Mr. Martinez and his guests. Just because he might be away on business does not mean you can use his personal gym, pools, sauna, any of the sporting equipment, the private beach, or any other part of the property,” Mrs. Caulfield spoke as if she’d said these exact same words many times before.

  Cara nodded though no one was looking to see it. They walked through an enormous kitchen, with every beautiful appliance and fancy tool on display.

  A man with a white chef’s jacket was mixing a sauce as a woman wearing the same stood at a counter chopping vegetables.

  “This is Marcel our chef, and Adrienne his sous chef. Marcel is a three star Michelin rated chef,” Mrs. Caulfield looked as proud of the accomplishment as if it were her own. “We will go upstairs,” she began walking up a lovely modern staircase. Even the staff wing was dripping in luxury.

  “How many people work here?” Cara asked on a thick exhale. Mrs. Caulfield was taking the stairs at a quick clip while Cara was already gasping for breath.

  “Almost everyone in Miami works for Mr. Martinez in one way or another, but I assume you already know that. Ten people live in this wing. There is also a gardeners cottage and then most of the house and recreational staff live off the property.” Mrs. Caulfield stopped suddenly and Cara nearly bumped into her.

  “This will be your room,” she reached one manicured hand out in the direction of Cara’s door. “I will see you downstairs in one hour to review your duties and help settle you in.”

  Mrs. Caulfield didn't move and Cara wasn't sure if she should go into the room or wait for Mrs. Caulfield to say something more. After another beat of silence, Cara took hold of the doorknob.

  “Welcome to the house,” Mrs. Caulfield spoke the words in a rather unwelcoming way as she walked by Cara and back down the stairs.

  Cara walked forward, closed the door behind her, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was in.

  Chapter Two

  Cara had not realized what it really meant to clean. She’d naively thought it would be hard physical work but rather straightforward. This illusion was quickly put aside after her first hour of work.

  For her first week at the house, her work was double checked by Mrs. Caulfield, who was more scrupulous than anyone she had ever met. Things Cara had never considered before were considered important, droplets of water that had dried on the sink, the direction in which she wiped the towel to dry a surface, or the way towels ought to be folded so no ends showed.

  By the end of the week, Mr. Martinez was still on a boating holiday with friends and had not been seen at the house.

  “Please let me stay here at this house… and protect me from Dimitri,” Cara looked up at the night sky and stars. It was late at night and her sleep was filled with dreams of Stavros throwing her against a wall and Dimitri threatening to follow her to the ends of the earth, so she tried not to sleep. Instead, she spent a good deal of time sitting by her bedroom window talking to the night sky.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she leaned her head back on the wall. The sky was brilliant, stars flickering wildly, shining in clusters as if there were a large party going on in the sky tonight. “One day Mrs. Caulfield will figure out that I am not meant to be here, she already sees that I’m not a very good house maid.”

  Cara looked at her hands. Callouses were forming on her fingers—fingers that seemed incapable of getting anything done effectively or efficiently enough for Mrs. Caulfield.

  She looked out of her window once more and saw a yacht pull into the private dock. She could not make out anything but the general merriment of the group on deck. There was a cheer as a bottle of champagne popped open. One of the women almost fell but a man caught her in time. Another man threw bags to the dock with no thought to valuables or breakable items and Cara realized that they were all drunk.

  Standing up she walked to her bedroom door. Her curiosity had grown so intense over the mysterious Marco Martinez that she was determined to spy on the group and figure out what he was like in real life.

  Padding down the stairs she rushed into the kitchen but stopped abruptly.

  Mrs. Caulfield sat at the kitchen table in front of her. She looked up sharply as Cara stopped in front of her.

  “I was… A group just pulled up in a yacht, I thought probably Mr. Martinez and… I thought I should let you know,” Cara rubbed her lips together.

  Mrs. Caulfield seemed satisfied with this answer and looked down at the table in front of her, “Yes. I had a phone call.” The woman looked despondent. She was deep in thought and serious matters were floating through her mind. Cara’s stomach squeezed, Mrs. Caulfield had found out about Cara, she’d figured out that Judy had not sent her.

  “He wants to have a giant party tomorrow evening, to celebrate his time away,” Mrs. Caulfield looked up at Cara.

  Cara exhaled with relief. She couldn’t be sure but she thought that the older woman might have actually cried over this news.

  “A party? But that will be nice,” Cara sat opposite Mrs. Caulfield.

  “Our party planner is in the hospital, giving birth… her assistant is in some small town in China visiting family and I cannot get a hold of her.” Mrs. Caulfield put both of her hands palms down on the table. Her left hand stroked the wood grain as if it were a pet.

  “I can help,” Cara leaned forward, desperate to make this scary woman less sad. There was something terrible about her predicament though it hardly seemed so dire as Mrs. Caulfield looked.

  “You?” Mrs. Caulfield’s eyes lifted to Cara.

  “Sure I used to plans lots of parties,” Cara felt like she was stepping into a pot that might soon boil over. It was a bad idea to begin sharing too much information with Mrs. Caulfield.

  “Like, children’s parties?” Mrs. Caulfield asked.

  "No, like…" Cara drifted off thinking of how much to divulge. Eventually, Mrs. Caulfield was going to find out that Cara wasn't sent by Judy, but if Cara could make herself valuable to Mrs. Caulfield then maybe… Cara took a breath. "Like Vegas parties, costume parties, charity balls, there was even a murder mystery whodunit party once."

  Cara felt like Mrs. Caulfield’s crisply manicured hand was squeezing around her heart as the older woman scrutinized her.

  “Ok,” Mrs. Caulfield tapped both her palms on the table. “I will give you the vendor list of who we usually use. But this is not some little Vegas party, Cara, this is a Marco Martinez party—it has to be better than anything you’ve ever seen or heard of. Understood?” Cara could see that Mrs. Caulfield was still trying to decide if she was making the right decision.

  “If this doesn’t go well… we could both lose our jobs.” Mrs. Caulfield was studying Cara.

  “He would do that?”

  “You are sure you can do this?” Mrs. Caulfield’s eyes told Cara everything she needed to know about Marco Martinez’s temperament. Cara had known she wasn’t safely tucked into the household yet but Mrs. Caulfield?

  “I’ll get started right now,” Cara tried her best to smile. “How many people and what’s the budget?”

  The look of worry left Mrs. Caulfield’s face for a moment as she smiled at Cara, “This is Marco Martinez we are talking about—there is no budget.”

  Cara had hoped to talk to Marco himself about her party plans, but he was unavailable and Mrs. Caulfield thought it unwise anyway. If Marco knew there was someone new in charge of everything, then he would be scrutinizing it all even closer than normal.

  Since the party was to celebrate the recent travels on Marco’s yacht, Cara had decided on a “port of call” themed party. There would be music, food, dancers, and entertainment from all over the world. Trinidad dancers with huge dresses and tiny costumes, a DJ playing the same house music currently being played in Ibiza, Sevruga caviar from the Aegean Sea, octopus and tuna served in the Japanese style.

  She spent most of the night planning, creating
ideas and laying out plans. As the new day dawned she began to see exactly what the name Marco Martinez meant in Miami.

  Each new place she called she expected to be turned down, chastened for her last minute requests. But people responded immediately. Other companies canceled previous engagements and didn't bat an eyelash to make room for a Marco Martinez event.

  When caterers, dancers, musicians, even a fire eater were all set in place by seven that evening, it was like magic. Though terrified of Marco and his reaction to her work, Cara felt in her element. She was good at this.

  She slipped on the dress she’d left Vegas in, the knee high boots that cost more than she now got paid in a month, plumped her lips with a bright red lipstick and went down to the kitchen.

  The smells were heavenly. Food was everywhere. Cara smiled at the many people populating the kitchen.

  “Guests have begun to arrive,” Mrs. Caulfield looked at Cara. “Everything seems to be in order.”

  Cara wondered if this was the closest Mrs. Caulfield got to give a compliment.

  “Would you like to go out with me? I’d like to get the tango dancers ready for the opening dance.” Cara pushed her hands out like a tango dancer hoping to see Mrs. Caulfield smile but it was of no use.

  "I suppose I should just be in the way out there, I'll stay here, for now, help get food out and whatnot." Mrs. Caulfield nodded to herself and immediately went to the door where a fresh bundle of delicacies were being brought in.

  Cara walked out into the warm night air. The sound of music and people chattering was soothing. She made her way around the back patio, looked toward the dock where island dancers were beginning an easy rhythm into the early evening air. Cara had planned for the lighter music and dancing to begin the evening, the DJ would start inside in a few hours.

  Despite it being his party, Cara didn’t see Marco Martinez anywhere. She watched guests laugh and talk, she watched women sensually eat the food they were handed, and men robustly place hands and mouths on their women.