Sinful Mates (Savage #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

As I wake groggily, the sun is just barely breaking through the windshield of my beat-up Honda Civic. My body aches as I stretch, trying to get comfortable. I have been living in my car for three months, and my body is protesting my living predicament.

Sitting up, I shield my eyes from the brutal sun and pull my blanket around myself, trying to warm my freezing skin.

An empty vodka bottle rolls off the seat and onto the passenger-side floorboard.

Now, I know what you are probably thinking - I’m an alcoholic. I’m not, nor do I ever drink and drive.

The first night, I had to sleep in my car. It was minus three degrees, and I was in danger of freezing. Luckily, my mother's drinks saved the night. My trunk was half full of spirits. I’m not lying when I say she likes to drink.

I was going to dispose of it, but that horrendous night made me glad I didn’t.

Her bestie’s name is Vodka, seconded by her equally harsh friend, Tequila.

I’m not much of a drinker; watching her was enough to deter anyone from taking that path.

On that freezing night, though, I decided, why not?

I grabbed a bottle, hoping to help myself sleep and forget I was now homeless and living in my car.

My life is already at a pretty crappy crossroads, so what will one more vice hurt?

That night I learned that alcohol could get you through the bitterest wintry nights.

You don’t feel the sting of the air when you’re intoxicated.

In fact, you feel little of anything. My alcohol tolerance has become rather impressive.

I don’t drink myself to oblivion, but on nights like the first night I spent in this cramped car and like last night, I knocked a few back to help chase away the cold.

The sun slowly rises over the horizon, bringing its warm rays to chase the chills away, the heat filtering through the windshield.

There is one plus side to living in your car: I’m never late for work, seeing as I live in the workplace parking garage.

Only the janitor, Tom, knows that little secret.

Tom is a sixty-year-old man, balding on top, with kind eyes, a cuddly figure, and a grandfatherly nature.

He stumbled upon me sleeping in my car one night.

I told him it was only temporary, so he kept the secret between us.

My bosses just think I am an eager and enthusiastic worker.

I am always the first person to work besides Tom, who opens the parking garage and the building, and I’m always the last to leave.

I’m not about to correct them. They can assume whatever they want. I need this job.

Reaching for the ignition, I turn my car on, my phone instantly lights up and charges through the lighter socket while my engine growls in complaint and shakes off the lingering cold.

It’s 7 AM. Getting up, I lean over into the back and grab my outfit for the day that is hanging from the roof by the back door.

Sliding my seat all the way back, I shimmy my track pants off and grab a fresh set of panties.

I pull them up my legs, then put my black slacks on and button them up.

I seize my bra and duck down behind the steering wheel.

I don't want to give Tom a heart attack.

After ripping my shirt off, I put on my white button-up blouse.

I have just finished slipping my heels on when I notice Tom walking up the driveway to the top level of the parking garage. I toss my sleeping pants on top of the bottles to hide them and smile at him. Swinging my door open, I greet him.

“Hey, Tom,” I say with a quick wave before reaching in and grabbing my handbag from the passenger seat.

Tom strides over, holding two paper cups.

Our morning ritual has become my favorite part of the day.

Every morning Tom walks all the way to the top level of the parking garage, brings me a coffee, and we trot back down to the entry together.

“Hi, love. How was your night?” Tom asks, concern evident in his voice.

“It was fine, a bit chilly, but nothing I’m not used to by now,” I tell him, grabbing the Styrofoam cup from his hand. I let the heat warm my palms, hesitant to drink the beverage and take away my source of warmth. It is silly; I'd be plenty warm inside the office.

“You know you can always stay—”

“Tom,” I say, cutting him off, “I know, but really, I’m fine.

This is only temporary.” I give him the same smile I always give him.

The mask that everything is fine in my world, and this is just a minor bump in the road, slips over me effortlessly like a well-practiced rehearsal.

I repeat it daily to him; I sometimes wonder if I am accepting this as my new normal.

He shakes his head. Every morning for the last few months, he's heard the same excuse. He knows there is no use arguing with me. I’m too stubborn and am not one for accepting help, even if it would help prevent frostbite.

Tom continues to the door before punching in the security code to let us access the building.

He's offered me to stay with him and his wife more than a dozen times by now.

But I don't want to intrude, and it isn't so bad here.

It is a lot safer than the park I was originally parked at.

I shudder at those hazy memories of what could have happened to me.

No, being at the top of a parking garage, safe in my car is far better.

Tom lets me in early every morning. I usually go straight upstairs to my desk, which is conveniently directly in front of the air conditioner.

Catching the elevator to the top floor, I step out and into the foyer and walk to my workstation, clicking on the marble floors.

Grabbing the AC remote, I turn the heater up full blast and stand directly under it, warming myself up while I sip my coffee.

Once I’m warm, I sit at my desk, power up my laptop, and look over the day's schedule and any notes I may have left for myself. I’ve been working at Kane and Madden industries for around twelve months.

I’m the secretary for Theo Madden and Tobias Kane.

They own the tech company, and I am about ninety-eight percent sure they are a couple.

Not that I have seen them officially together or anything at any of the company parties or even shared a glance with each other outside these doors.

They have separate offices, but they have this way of communicating.

They always seem so in sync with each other, and I have caught them staring weirdly at each other.

I’ve also walked in on Theo, kissing and sucking on Tobias’s neck.

So that seems to be a pretty big indicator that they are little more than business partners.

I must admit it was hot, and it kind of turned me on until Tobias noticed me gawking, which made Theo freeze, and then, it got awkward and tense exceedingly fast. I ran from the room.

They never mentioned it, so I assumed I was let off the hook.

I’ve since added that memory to the it-never-happened file of my brain.

It’s a shame they are both gay. They are the hottest gay couple I've ever seen. Or whatever their dynamic is.

Tobias is the most imposing one. His intense gaze sends shivers down my spine and also chilling vibes that rival my car.

Even before I'd walked in on him. If he weren't gay, I'd think I am prey with the way he stares. Sometimes, when he speaks to me, he gets this faraway expression on his face, like he is looking straight through me instead of at me. I swear, one time, I thought I heard him growl! I know that’s insane. People don’t growl, not like predators do.

I put it down to the eighteen-hour shift I worked that day.

Tobias Kane is tall, dark-haired, muscular, sports a 5 o’clock shadow daily, possesses a strong jaw and is gifted with sharp piercing blue eyes.

Theo Madden, on the other hand, has softer features.

He is just as tall as Tobias but has a very casual laid-back attitude and fluffy brown hair that is short on the sides and a little longer on the top.

He has green eyes that sparkle when he talks to me, and high cheekbones.

Both are breathtakingly handsome. Even after all my time working here, I still get stunned by their godlike appearances.

I’m incredibly surprised I haven’t been fired.

I have been caught way too many times daydreaming, staring off into space, and having inappropriate thoughts about my bosses.

But I also know I’m extremely good at my job.

No one has lasted this long as their secretary, and no one is willing to do the sometimes-grueling hours I have had in my position.

Once I finish checking my laptop, I check the time.

It is 8:30 AM. I still have half an hour before my bosses arrive.

Slipping out of my seat, I stroll to the bathroom with my handbag.

I set my makeup on the counter and pull my brush out.

I brush my unruly waist length blonde hair.

After deciding to pull it into a high ponytail, I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and quickly brush my teeth.

I apply mascara to my already long thick eyelashes and some eyeliner to brighten my dark green eyes before applying red lipstick. It contrasts nicely with my fair skin.

I’m so glad this floor has no cameras because it would be too embarrassing if my bosses found out about my morning routine.

Plus, they would see me in all my morning bedhead (or car head) glory.

Tom doesn't count. He doesn't care what I look like, and I’m always comfortable around him.

But if anyone else saw me, I think it would be a bit awkward.