Accidental Acquisition by Evangeline Anderson
1
“I’m sorry, but there are no returns, refunds, or exchanges of any kind.” The Mistress who ran the stall folded her arms over her bare breasts and looked down her long nose at Jillian. “I thought I made that clear when you bought the thaelite in the first place.”
“But…but I thought I was only paying for the thaelite itself,” Jillian protested, staring at the woman. “You sold me a person!”
She gestured to the huge, muscular warrior at her side, who was standing with his arms crossed over his broad chest and staring impassively into the distance.
He looked kind of like a Kindred—at least he had the size of one. He was at least seven feet tall with shoulders fully twice as broad as her own. But his eyes were green and silver and they almost seemed to glow—Jillian didn’t know of any Kindred with eyes like that.
The bodyslave also had thick dark hair which was iron gray at the temples and a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard. Given the gray in his hair, he might be in his late forties or early fifties—it was hard to tell, Jillian thought. At any rate, he was in amazing shape, so only the hair and a few crow’s feet around his piercing silver-green eyes gave away his age, which was probably five or six years older than her own.
The warrior bodyslave was dressed like he came out of a gladiator movie. He was bare-chested, which showed off his massive arms as well as the many scars on his back and chest. He looked liked he’d been in some pretty fierce fights, Jillian thought, eyeing him warily. From the waist down all he had on was a short leather kilt, which showed off thighs like tree trunks—proving he didn’t skip leg day—and brown leather boots.
He was currently just standing there, arms crossed, staring straight ahead while Jillian argued with his former Mistress. If he had any thoughts on the fact that Jillian was trying to “return” him, they didn’t show on his stern features.
“Look, I didn’t mean to buy him!” she argued with the stall owner, who was still looking down her from her rather imposing height, since she was wearing stilt-like heels that were almost three feet tall. If she hadn’t also been wearing a dress that prominently displayed her bare breasts, hidden only by a thin veil of see-through silk, the shoes would have been the most arresting thing about her.
“I made everything perfectly clear when you bought the thaelite,” the woman snapped. “It’s not my fault if you’re too stupid to understand!”
“That’s really insulting!” Jillian exclaimed. “And you tricked me into buying him!”
“I did nothing of the sort.” The woman’s eyes—which happened to be an improbable shade of lavender—flashed dangerously. “And as I said before, there are absolutely no refunds, returns, or exchanges!” She leaned down from her stilt-like heels and stared into Jillian’s face. “Let me put this in a way you can understand—Kalis is now your bodyslave, bound and sworn to you for life. You are stuck with him.”
“My old Mistress is correct. I am yours, little Mistress,” the huge warrior rumbled. Then he knelt in the dust of the marketplace right at Jillian’s feet. Even kneeling, he was so big they were almost eye-to-eye. “I will serve you always,” he said, looking deep into Jillian’s eyes. “I will pleasure you and protect you from any who wish to harm you. To the last drop of my blood and the last breath of air in my body, I dedicate myself to you completely.”
“Oh…” Jillian whispered, looking into those deep silver-green eyes. “Oh God, what am I going to do?”
She stared at the huge bodyslave in dismay, nervously tucking a sheaf of wheat-blonde hair behind her ear and nibbling her lower lip as she tried to think. How had she gotten herself into such a sticky situation? If only she’d stayed down on Earth instead of moving up to the Kindred Mother Ship in the first place, this never would have happened.
This is all Brad’s fault! she thought ruefully.
She shook her head, not wanting to think of her ex. Though if she was honest, Brad was the main reason she had come to the Mother Ship in the first place. But she never would have given him the time of day if she hadn’t been so lonely.
Lonely and stupid,whispered a little voice in her head. Stupid not to realize what kind of guy Brad was in the first place. You worked in Vegas long enough to know a shark when you saw one. But no—you closed your eyes to all the signs because you wanted so badly to be loved…
Jillian had been working as the Executive Chef of The Palms, an upscale steakhouse in Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas. It wasn’t easy to be a woman in the male-dominated world of fine dining—a fact she’d learned the hard way as she was climbing the ladder. The culinary world could be cutthroat and filled with nineteen-hour days. There was no time for a husband or kids.
Which was fine with Jillian—she honestly didn’t want kids. Not at the time, anyway. She loved being creative with food and she had a talent for organization and leadership. She always kept a cool head, no matter how dire the situation, which made her an excellent executive chef.
But she’d risen through the ranks to the very top of the restaurant food chain by sacrificing any kind of family life—she didn’t even have any pets, except a couple of goldfish. They were the only animals she didn’t feel guilty about leaving alone all day.
All of which left her lonely and vulnerable as she got into middle age—though Jillian never would have admitted it to herself. It was then that Brad had come into her life. He had been dining with a group of high rollers, who were ordering bottle after bottle of Cristal and the most expensive Wagyu steaks on the menu, which had led Jillian to believe he was a high roller himself.
Which turned out to be a big mistake.
Not that she was looking for a rich guy, but she was in her mid forties—she wanted someone who was financially independent and responsible with money. She herself owned a modestly upscale home in a nice neighborhood which was all paid off. Since there was rarely time in her life for vacations and she didn’t have any kids to spend her money on, her spare income went to paying off her mortgage and into her bank account.
She had mistakenly assumed that Brad was well-off financially because of the company he kept. She hadn’t realized that his expensive meals were mostly paid for by his many “friends.” The fact was, her ex was a grifter. Like a remora eel, he latched onto unsuspecting hosts and sucked them dry. He had probably seen her as an easy meal ticket—a lonely woman in her forties, hungry to be held and cherished.
But of course, Jillian hadn’t known any of that on the night when she went out dutifully to check on the high-roller table and make sure they were happy with everything they were getting. It was one of her duties, as executive chef, to make certain the VIP guests were satisfied—she’d had no idea she was letting herself in for a world of hurt.
Brad had been at his gregarious best that night, ordering more champagne for the table and cracking jokes that made everyone laugh. When Jillian asked if they were enjoying their meal, he praised the food to the skies.
“Wait a minute—so you’re the executive chef here? Does that mean you wrote the menu?” he’d asked, wide-eyed with excitement when Jillian introduced herself. “You must be some kind of culinary genius! And so beautiful, too!”
Jillian still winced when she remembered how she’d reacted to his lavish praise. She had blushed like a schoolgirl and it hadn’t escaped her notice that Brad had completely ignored the twenty-something showgirl who was acting as their waitress in favor of talking to her.
That first night had turned into a whirlwind courtship. Brad had asked if he could see her when the restaurant closed and Jillian had agreed. After that, he wanted to see her every day and they began spending time together constantly. It wasn’t long before they said “I do” in a romantic little drive-thru wedding venue. Jillian had thought it was charming at the time—so utterly Vegas. Later, she understood that everything about Brad was like Vegas—all glitter and glamour on the surface with no substance underneath.
But by the time she figured that out, it was too late.
After wiggling his way into her life, Brad had wiggled his way into her finances as well. It turned out that he was an expert forger and it didn’t take him long to learn how to do her signature. By the time Jillian caught him in bed with a buxom blonde from the Circque du Soleil Zumanity show and kicked him out of her house and her life, he had managed to max out her credit cards, ruin her credit, drain her bank account dry, and get two new mortgages on her house that she could never hope to pay off.
About the only thing he hadn’t gotten into was the safety deposit box she kept at her bank—and that wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d attempted to clean it out as well, only the bank hadn’t allowed him to get in because he hadn’t found the key, which Jillian had hidden in a safe spot.
It was after she found out about the second mortgage and realized how completely financially ruined she was, that Jillian’s old sous chef, Suzanne, had looked her up and asked her to come out to lunch.
Suzanne had been Claimed by Twin Kindred warriors about a year before—the two of them had simply come into the kitchen and literally swept her off her feet right in the middle of dinner service.
Jillian had vacillated between irritation—it was hard to find a good sous chef who was also a good friend—and happiness for Suzanne, who seemed completely ecstatic. Her old sous chef had moved up to the Mother Ship to be with her new husbands and Jillian hadn’t seen her again until she’d dropped by to say hello and show off her pregnant belly.
“Well, you seem to be doing great!” Jillian had eyed her friend’s swollen midsection with a mixture of awe and envy. “Do you have twins in there?”
“Of course! With Twin Kindred, you always have twin babies,” Suzanne had informed her. “But shouldn’t you be preggers yourself? Last I heard, you were all married and settled down and ready to board the baby train.”
Jillian had sighed. She hated like Hell to spill the sad story of her grifter ex—it was still too soon and the pain was too fresh. Plus, she had just found out that morning she was going to lose her house and possibly her job and she had no idea where she was going to stay. But Suzanne was a good friend—the kind she could tell anything to. And she needed to get it off her chest.
“Not exactly,” she said bitterly. “I mean, I thought that was the plan—Brad made me think it was possible to settle down and have a family and all that. But that was before I caught him in bed with another woman and found out he’d ruined my finances.”
“What? Oh, no!” Suzanne had put a hand over Jillian’s and looked at her anxiously. “You’d better tell me everything, Jilly. What happened?”
So Jillian had spilled the whole, sad, predictable story in her friend’s lap and Suzanne had listened with sympathy.
“He sounds like a real asshole,” she said indignantly, when Jillian was finished. “And there’s nothing you can do to him legally?”
“Maybe if anyone could catch him, but he was in the wind an hour after I found him in my bed with a bimbo,” Jillian sighed. “And unfortunately, he took pretty much everything with him. I’m cleaned out, Suze. And my house is double mortgaged—I’m going to lose it. I’ll probably have to declare bankruptcy too, since he ruined my credit, and…and…”
But at that point, she had broken down in tears.
“I just don’t see how I can start all over again,” she had sobbed. “That bastard was stealing Wagyu steaks and lobster tails from the walk-in and selling them, too. So now my job’s on really shaky ground. They don’t believe I wasn’t somehow involved, even though I told them how he screwed me too. Management thinks it ‘reflects poorly on my judgment’ so I don’t think I’m going to be running the kitchen at The Palms much longer. And how I’m ever going to get another job with a black mark like that on my resume, I have no idea…”
The tears kept flowing but Suzanne had hugged her and held her while she cried. When Jillian finally got hold of herself, she said,
“Why don’t you just forget all of this and come up to the Mother Ship?”
“And do what?” Jillian had asked, swiping at her eyes with her apron. “Just hang out with you?”
“No, silly—get a job and live there,” Suzanne said, smiling. “And I know just the gig for you. The boys and I just bought a restaurant on the edge of the Common Area in the Kindred Mother Ship. I was going to run it myself, but then these two came along…” She rubbed her swollen belly fondly. “Of course, the Kindred are very supportive of working mothers, but honestly, I think I want to stay home with the babies. So we need a new head chef for Pa-tar—that’s the name of the restaurant. It’s kind of a fusion place with a mix of classic Earth dishes and Kindred food, too.”
“I don’t know…” Jillian had shaken her head. “It sounds like a really big change.”
“Well, maybe a big change is what you need,” Suzanne told her. “Look, I know it’s kind of a step down—going from running a palace like The Palms to a little place that only seats fifty on a good night. But right now it sounds to me like you could use a little less stress in your life. “Who knows—maybe you’ll even find a Kindred or two of your own and settle down like I did.” She grinned at Jillian hopefully.
“No—no more settling down for me,” Jillian said grimly. “I’ve had enough romance to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. The one time I try to open my heart, look what happens—I get scammed.” She shook her head. “No, I have absolutely no interest in ever getting married or even dating ever again!” She sighed. “But I could use a fresh start.”
“Then let me give you one,” Suzanne said gently. “You gave me one—remember? You took a chance on me when no one else would.”
Suzanne had come from a pretty rough background. When she was only nineteen, she’d been tricked by an abusive boyfriend into becoming a drug mule. When she’d been caught, her boyfriend had thrown her under the bus completely and she wound up serving several years in prison. After that, she’d had a really hard time finding a job but she had worked in the prison kitchen and had some rudimentary skills.
Revealing all this in her interview to Jillian, she had broken down sobbing. Her rent was past due and if she didn’t find a job soon, she was going to be in trouble with her parole officer. She had begged Jillian to give her a chance and Jillian had—and she had never regretted it. Suzanne had worked her way up the kitchen hierarchy from dishwasher to line cook to Jillian’s personal sous chef and she had never once let Jillian down.
“Remember what you said to me during our interview?” Suzanne asked her. “You said, ‘everybody deserves a second chance.’ So let me give you one now, Jilly. You deserve to get away from this mess and start fresh. Come up to the Mother Ship with me and leave all this crap behind.”
With a mixture of relief and regret, Jillian had agreed. A week later, after wrapping up her life on Earth and quitting her job at The Palms before she could be fired, she stepped onto a Kindred shuttle driven by one of Suzanne’s new husbands and went up to the Mother Ship to start a whole new life.
