Red Collar Read online

  RED

  Collar

  Clarissa Cartharn

  Red Collar

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Clarissa Cartharn

  Copyright © Text Clarissa Cartharn 2013

  Copyright © Cover design Clarissa Cartharn 2013

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  *******

  REDCollar

  Clarissa Cartharn

  Kate Ripley is struggling to provide for her four siblings and her ill-mother. So when she loses her job to an unpredictable redundancy, she resorts to the unthinkable. She accepts the offer of secretary-cum-mistress to billionaire Clayton Reid. But can she survive this new role without sacrificing her dignity… and falling in love.

  Tired of secretaries taking advantage of their proximity to win his heart, wealthy bachelor Clayton devises the ultimate solution- hire the secretary who can also perform dual duties as mistress. And Clayton thinks he's found the perfect woman in escort Kate Ripley. Until he discovers the one flaw in his perfect plan- he can never let her go. Can he afford to fight against his principles and risk all he’s worked for to keep her?

  RED

  Collar

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 1

  “And how old are you?” he asked.

  “Twenty-seven,” she answered.

  Kate watched him take a short stroll from his desk to the long windows of his office.

  He was a short man. His stomach fell over his belt and his hair receded way to the back of his head. There was nothing compellingly attractive about him other than his soft brown eyes that sometimes grew harsh as he spoke to her.

  “You look younger,” he said, thinking.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Whitton,” she replied, slightly annoyed. “I don’t see what my age has got to do with this position. I can assure you that I have the experience to carry out this role.”

  “You know what it entails then,” he lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not your… everyday nine to five employment, Ms Ripley.”

  “I have been briefed of its duties quite clearly. Madge Harris told me all that I needed to know of it. It is only after which I deliberated that I would make the perfect candidate. I have a secretarial qualification from a renowned institution and having already worked for a large company for three years, I also understand the corporate responsibilities that accompany the duties of a secretary to a director. As for the unspoken aspect of the position, well…” she hesitated briefly. Swallowing a lump in a throat and blinking away the glaze in her eyes, she stared determinedly and directly at the shorter, older man. “You can’t possibly be suspecting that I would still be a virgin at twenty-seven?”

  Bob Whitton cocked his head to the side as he listened to her short attempt of persuasion. He put a finger to his tie and tugged it loose. He was suddenly feeling suffocated by the formalities of his dress and his role as the company solicitor.

  “I hope you understand Ms Ripley that I don’t often conduct such interviews,” he said quietly.

  He turned to the young woman. Her long, dark hair was tied back neatly into a sleek French roll. She was definitely pretty with an oval face and honey-filled eyes. She was dressed in a professional, black dress. Her slim shoulders carried a tailored dark jacket. It wasn’t what he expected. Particularly for such a position.

  “I won’t go into the details of the job description. I assume that Ms Harris has run you over with the matter?” he added.

  She nodded her head.

  He coughed. “I must say that you come highly recommended by Ms Harris. I have already had a look at your medical records as provided by her. They are clean. Your academic records and employment referrals all check out as outstanding. Do you have any questions?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, but does that mean I have the job?”

  He nodded, giving her a small smile. “Yes. You can start tomorrow.”

  She returned his smile, extending her hand. He took it hesitantly and shook it.

  “Well,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr Whitton,” she replied, excitedly. “But where do I report for my duties?”

  “Right,” he replied. He rummaged through his draw and pulled out a card. “Here,” he said, handing it over to her. “You start at ten o’clock in the evening tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” she said, her face growing pale. “Yes.”

  He watched her closely. “It is the nature of the position. You can still turn it down if you’re uncertain about it.”

  “No,” she replied, uneasily. “Of course I’m not. It’s just that I expected those aspects would follow much later in the course of my employment. I didn’t know it would be so… immediate.”

  “Ms Ripley…,” he started.

  But she interrupted him as quickly. “Might as well get it over with, right?” she laughed nervously. She stared down at the address.

  “Is everything alright, Ms Ripley?” Bob Whitton asked, still unsure of what to make of the younger woman.

  “Of course, Mr Whitton,” she answered, raising her head, her lips drawn into a smile. “Well, if there isn’t anything else, I should start preparing myself to meet the boss.”

  “His name is Clayton Reid. He will be expecting you.”

  She rose from her chair and turned towards the door.

  “Ms Ripley,” Bob said. He paused momentarily as he looked at her. He appeared to want to say something but then changed his mind. “You’ll find the Human Resource Manager, Greg Baker on the second door to the left as you go down the corridor. You need to sign your contract with the company. He will also notify you of the terms contained within it. Oh and your annual income is a hundred and fifty thousand. You’re okay with that, right?”

  *****

  A hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year. Kate took in a deep breath as she stepped through the doorway of her apartment building. She moved to the side and pulled out of her bag the white envelope containing her contract. Edging it out slowly, her eyes swept quickly at the clause stating her income.

  “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” she mouthed silently as she read it yet again.

  For the first time in many years, she felt a sense of empowerment envelope her. There was so much she could do with such an exuberant salary. She leant against the graffiti walls of her apartment lobby and gave a sigh of relief.

  Above her, she heard argumentative voices pierce through the old walls.

  “Lorenzo! I haven’t finished talking to you! Como se dice! Where are you going?!” a woman screamed.

  The door slammed, drowning her voice. Kate guessed Lorenzo didn’t want to hear any more of what the woman had to say. She heard his heavy steps crashing down the stairs. He emerged from the stairway, a young man in his late teens. He gave her a short glance and then marched out of the lobby.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised by the commotion but she was. Such altercations were common
place as she had spent much of her life in the projects of New York. God only knew she had seen worse. Why then was she taken aback by this particular young man? It was perhaps that Lorenzo was handsome with beautiful dark skin. He had thick and dark glossy hair that fell to his nape and bounced as he walked. She watched him melt away into the distance. Sighing, her eyes travelled to the dirty staircase.

  She looked back at the contract in her hand. There was hope, she repeated to herself.

  She trudged up the stairs to the third floor of the building. The elevator, as usual, would have been slow and creaky. It also reeked of urine if the cleaners failed to show, which on large occasions happened to be often. She found it safer to climb the three stair levels, although she was often warned that the stairs were a more dangerous route than the health hazardous elevator. She was perhaps grateful that it wasn’t an apartment so far up the building.

  Walking towards her apartment, she was already delving for her keys in her bag but then decided against it. She wanted to test out a sudden theory that popped into her mind.

  She curved her palm around the door knob and slowly turned it. The door gave way. A sudden rage filled her which she fought desperately to stifle.

  “Johnny!” she growled with her teeth clenched. “How many times have I told you to keep this door locked!”

  The seven year old boy looked up, surprised by her entrance.

  “I did. I swear,” he said calmly. His eyes returned to the television.

  “So why is it open then?” Kate minced the words out in anger.

  “Ask Libby. She’s the one who does ever leave this house.”

  Kate turned on her heels and marched towards the first bedroom. There were only two bedrooms that catered for the six people that lived in it. It was a wonder they had managed all this while.

  “Libby!” She flung the bedroom door to find the fifteen year old laying on the bed, rocking to some music she was listening to on her smart phone.

  Kate pulled roughly at the headphones.

  “What the fuck?!” the young girl spat out.

  “Don’t use that language in this house,” Kate warned. “I mean it.”

  “You’re not my mother.” The younger girl tried to snatch back her headphones.

  “Not yet.” Kate held away the headphones.

  “What is wrong with you!”

  “Me?! What’s wrong with you! How many times have I told you to keep the front door locked, Libby. I expect some responsibility from you while I’m away.”

  “Why me? Why not Johnny or Rudy? Why does it have to be me?!”

  “I’m sorry that it has to be that way Libby but it so happens you’re the oldest when I’m gone.” Kate threw her bag onto the bed in frustration. “Should you decide you’re not up for that role, I suggest you get off your lazy ass and find a job. Either way, I will not be supporting any bums in this house. You got that? So get your act together and start making yourself useful.”

  She walked out of the room leaving Libby seething on the bed. She knocked lightly on the door of the only other bedroom. “Mom?” she called out softly.

  “Kate?” her mother answered.

  “How you feeling?” asked Kate as she stepped inside and neared the bed.

  The frail, older woman sat herself up against the pillows at the bed-head. “Alright.” Her long thin fingers fidgeted with the hems of her sheet. “I didn’t barf,” she added and gave a nervous chuckle.

  Kate smiled. “Have you eaten?”

  Her mother ran her fingers through her coarse, graying hair. “No. I, I…can’t. I mean, I don’t want to. I’m not hungry.”

  Kate sighed. “You need to eat. It’s important that you keep your diet going. Remember what the doctor said.”

  “I know. I know. I would if I could. But I can’t. If I do, it’ll just all come right back up again. And then so will the blood and… I get scared Kate.” Her mother whimpered softly.

  Kate held her mother’s palm in hers. “You need to try, Mom. For us. Please. You can’t just give up like that.”

  Her mother nodded. She wiped away the tears and gave a small sniff. “So how are the job interviews coming along?”

  Kate smiled. “Very well. As a matter of fact, I start on a job tomorrow.”

  “Really?” Her mother nudged her to come closer. “I’m so happy for you, Kate. I knew you could do it. You always had it in you. You’re so much like your father.”

  Kate gave her a small hug. “I need to start with dinner.”

  “Kate?” her mother called out before she could disappear out her door. “Take it easy on Libby. She isn’t as lucky as you.”

  *****

  Kate Ripley never considered herself lucky. She was born in a small run-down apartment in Brooklyn. Her dad, Keith was a construction worker. Her mother, Terri was a housewife and the odd casual employee of a pizzeria or a bakery or wherever work called out for her. For most times though, Terri loved to spend the days with little Kate. They drew pictures of a happy sun, shiny stars, sang old nursery rhymes and played in the tiny playground outside their apartment building. In the evenings, Terri would prepare dinner as Kate would watch an old TV rerun while waiting for her dad to return from work. Until Kate was six, she thought she had the best life. And then luck, as her mother called it, ran out on her.

  One day, she waited outside her school for her mother to pick her up as usual. As the hours slowly passed by, she realized that her mother would never come. That was the first day she walked home alone. The next day, she waited for at least an hour before she started her walk home. As days passed, she waited lesser and lesser until she stopped waiting at all.

  The serene family evenings that she eagerly used to look forward to, was also replaced by unending arguments and fights. She found herself more than often hurdled tightly in the corner of her bed and her wardrobe as she played make-believe with her dolls. One evening, everything just quieted and when she walked out of her little corner, she found her mother had left. She was only eight.

  It was now, she and her father after that. He would have been all she needed but unfortunately he didn’t know much about what girls needed. In his favor, he would buy her clothes from the charity store up her street but they were always two sizes bigger. She was growing, her father would tell her. Her clothes needed to allow her body to develop. However, more than often, her clothes would tatter before she could ever outgrow them. At thirteen, she gave him the ultimatum of letting her buy her own clothes or she’d elope with Joey Kimmett, the notorious fifteen year old bully who went to the same school as she did. Her father couldn’t have that, although he knew Joey never did ask to elope with Kate. But Kate had made her point and her father relented. And that was how it was for the next ten years until he died four years ago.

  His heart gave up, they said. But she knew it had always been heartache. Ever since her mother had left. So she felt it quite ironic when her mother returned for his burial. It beat her how she found out about the funeral. But there she was, standing by the fresh earth of his grave in her long dark skirt and tall boots.

  She didn’t come alone. She brought along her four children. The youngest, Lily was only two, tugging at her mother’s skirt.

  When she did leave two days after the funeral, so did the one fifty dollar note Kate carried in her wallet. She only heard from her mother occasionally after that, until a year ago.

  She was sobbing on the phone. Kate assumed that she had been hit by her partner again. But it was cirrhosis. Her drinking had at last caught up with her, like her father always feared. Her liver was damaged and she was dying. Kate did all she could to help her pay for her medication and treatment, but when she lost her job three months ago, she thought it would be the opportune time to move in with her mother and half-siblings. Much against the advice of her friends and everyone she knew.

  *****

  She climbed up the stairs to the red door. Masseuses by Madge was etched high and proudly above the door.


  Inside an ash blonde woman greeted her at the reception.

  “I’d like to see Madge Harris,” Kate said.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No but…”

  “You have to have an appointment to see Ms Harris. Besides she is unavailable at the moment,” the woman replied with a feigned smile as she briskly surveyed Kate with her eyes. “Would you like to leave a message?”

  “Would you tell Madame Madge that Kate Ripley’s at reception? I think she would be quite interested to hear the news I have for her.” Kate gave her a curt smile and strolled away towards the lounge by the large windows overlooking the gardens.

  She took slight pleasure in watching the woman’s smile melt as she stressed on the term Madame. She readjusted the belt of her coat. It was a fiddly habit she had whenever she tried to suppress her excitement in public. She would look nervous and tensed instead.

  She heard the woman’s hushed tone behind her as she relayed the details of her presence to someone over the phone. The receptionist was now evidently aware that Kate knew all about the façade masking the real operations of the business.

  *****

  Kate first heard of Madame Madge four months ago. She was then still secretary to the sleazy Russell Wilder at Miller’s Furniture Designs. In her three years of service, she had successfully managed to brush away much of his sexual innuendo with a tight smile. However it was obvious that his patience for her to take his bait was slowly wearing thin. When rumors of another set of redundancy began surfacing, she had inkling she would be heading that list.

  She was biting her nails over her options one afternoon when Bridget Lantz dropped her ass on her desk.

  “Well, have you decided what you’re doing when you get the sack?” she said, twisting her pencil in her fingers.

  “We don’t know if I’m getting one yet,” Kate smirked.