A Gift of Passion (Lover's Gift Book 1)

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  Copyright © 2019 Adom Sample.

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Adom Sample

  Edited by Erin Foster & Nikki Mentges

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  A Gift of Matrimony

  Dear Reader

  Author

  Prologue

  Dante

  TEN SECONDS . . . FIVE SECONDS . . . ONE SECOND . . .

  That was all it took. My letters would tell her my story. In her eyes, I would be made whole. Those few seconds would give me the chance to begin.

  I leaned against the wall and gazed out the window of my villa in solitude as I always did. I couldn’t help myself. The entrancing view of the beach that stretched to the blue ocean and mountains in the distance called to me every evening as I had a glass of Richebourg, my favorite brand of red wine, before supper. I told myself the view of the beach was the reason, but I knew that wasn’t the truth. It was her. She didn’t know I was watching her. She never knew.

  I hid in the shadows within my villa, surrounded by a beautiful landscape with exquisite scenery between sunrise and sunset. I could have any woman I desired. There was no shortage of beautiful women willing to climb into my bed and comfort me until sundown. But none of that interested me . . . Not anymore. The only thing I wanted in this world was her—Isabella Kam.

  She wasn’t the typical woman who would go for someone like me. She didn’t have fake breasts, doctored lips, or a surgically enhanced backside. None of those superficial traits interested me at all. It was her overwhelming sense of confidence that sparked my attention. Her pride, modesty, humbleness, and inner strength made my heart palpitate with the very mention of her name. Personality wise, I saw her as ambitious and kind—two traits that were rarely mutually inclusive.

  Her name rang with such elegant ambience each time it escaped my lips. Her athletic build, silky black hair, firm backside, and full lips drove me mad with desire. I needed her.

  We came from different industries, and our paths were likely never to cross, for now at least. However, I knew the moment I saw her speak at the Youths Convention that something about her was different. Her words touched my heart unlike any other woman’s had before. That’s when I knew. I wanted her and she would be mine.

  To be closer to her, I purchased this luxurious villa next to her own. In a space that could house more than twenty people, I stayed here alone with my thoughts of her. The marble floors, large L-shaped sofas, leather lounge chairs, warm fireplace, and balcony doors that led out to the terrace were all too much for me, but I bought what I needed to be close to her. Ten million dollars was nothing in my world.

  I would write it off as an investment, as I didn’t plan to stay here very long. Everything I did since seeing her again was to please my obsession. I thought of nothing else. Nonetheless, I never realized my proximity to her would compel me to watch the horror that she called a marriage.

  Her narcissistic and abusive husband knew nothing of how to treat a woman of her stature. I saw the signs. I saw the betrayal—the multiple women who’d come in and out of that house at his beckoning call. She didn’t deserve this. I had strong faith in the monogamous nature of marriage, so I dared not make my move until their marriage ended. Never interfering in their so-called love until I knew for a fact that it was over was something I promised myself.

  All the same, it grew harder each day to remain silent in the face of her beauty. As she sat on the beachfront alone, hair waving in the wind as though she were an angel placed on this earth to be viewed by me solely, I couldn’t help but wonder. What would it be like?

  Her pain was mine to feel. The plight of her sadness despite all of her success filled me with regret for not pursuing her more vehemently when I had the chance. Why did women choose to give their hearts to men like him? Couldn’t she see the signs? Did she not hear the sounds of discontent and deviousness in his voice when he uttered the words I love you? Nothing could be further from the truth. I knew he didn’t love her.

  As I gazed into the beachfront overlooking the water, I saw her—walking alone outside with a glass of wine, tears in her eyes. Her hair was like a stunning visual of black silk blowing in the wind. As much as my heart burned for it, I wouldn’t approach her. I promised never to set myself up for heartbreak. I knew nothing would come of it as long as she was still with her husband.

  There must be something I could do to free her of this pain. That poor excuse of a man she called her soul mate was nothing compared to what I could do for her. Given his lack of career, job, stature, or manners, what the hell could she possibly see in him? That was something I must find out, no matter the cost. She would be mine. In those ten seconds I gazed upon her beauty from my villa, I vowed that I would know her—and her, me.

  Chapter 1

  Isabella

  I didn’t know what to do with him anymore. The love in our marriage seemed to have run its course, and every day I wished things would return to the way they once were. He had changed, and not for the better. I didn’t think he had gone astray, but if he had, it would be over.

  I trusted him just as he did me. I knew that I still loved him. How was I to know if he felt the same? Ignoring me seemed to be his favorite pastime. My very presence tended to irritate him. Sometimes I found myself daydreaming, wishing he would be more like the men in the novels I read alone on the beachfront.

  He never asked how I was doing or how my day went when I got home from work. The only things he was concerned with were his phone and computer, which he hid and password protected religiously. My friends told me the things they’d heard about him over the last year, but I refused to believe them. He was there for me when I had nothing, and I would not abandon him based on silly rumors. After all, they were just rumors. That was what I would tell myself, but the time for blatant denial was over. I had to put truth to this gossip.

  Something had to be wrong when your husband hadn’t touched you in over a year. Did he still love me? The coldness of his embrace, the shallowness of his words whenever he spoke the phrase I love you haunted my nerves to the point where I wanted to explode if I didn’t get an
swers. What could he be doing all day when he didn’t answer my calls? He didn’t even bother to bring me lunch at the office anymore.

  He always claimed the scent of other women on his clothes was from his personal-training hobby and the number of female clients he had. I knew it was bullshit. I needed to stop being so damn naïve and face the facts. I thought about hiring a private investigator, but what would it say of me? Maybe I was too damn insecure. What kind of woman would it make me if I hired someone to tail him?

  If the situation was that awful, then I should just leave. But with what cause? I didn’t want to end our marriage on the premise of rumor and suspicion. If he still loved me, then I had to know—the truth. Perhaps it was just the wine talking. Maybe I was drunk again, allowing self-doubt to get the better of me. I needed to take my mind of this and focus on something else.

  The beach was clear and refreshing this time of day. Mesmerized by the dying sunlight, I didn’t notice when something washed up on the shore. I looked down at my feet and saw a bottle with a thin piece of paper inside. Another letter. For the last few weeks, I’d been collecting these letters. They were never addressed to me, so I was hoarding these things without knowing who they belonged to or who they were meant for.

  What kind of a hopeless romantic would put a letter in a bottle on the beach for anyone to find? And why was it always I who found them? That didn’t matter now. I’d open it and read it just like the others. They gave me hope that love was not lost. I picked up the bottle and removed the letter. It was a little damp, but the words were still readable all the same.

  “Isabella Kam-Williams, I hope this reaches you . . .”

  My brow curled and my jaw dropped. I was taken aback. Did I just read my name?

  “. . . I love you more than anything . . .”

  I couldn’t keep reading. It—it wasn’t possible. This letter, unlike the others, had my name written on it. How could it have my name on it? Maybe it was my husband trying to trigger the romance back into our marriage. My curiosity had to be sated so I continued to read.

  Dear Isabella Kam-Williams,

  I hope this reaches you. For months, I have watched you, hoping you would notice me watching you. You don’t know me, but I know you, and hopefully, soon we will know each other very well. I sincerely hope my other letters have found you. I just wanted to let you know you are the honey that marinates my thoughts each morning before my breakfast.

  Observing you sit in your chair on the beach sipping your wine, thinking your thoughts, every day makes my very being shine with a light brighter than that of the sun. Even though I don’t know you well enough to say this, I love you more than anything. I’ve followed your progress and successful business acumen in the fashion and cosmetic industries, coupled with your unflinching loyalty to your employees and your respectful, kind treatment of everyone you encounter.

  Your kind heart and ambitious nature deserve so much more. You deserve real love, a love that would shake the sky and ravage the mountaintops, raining down peace and romanticism not seen since the dawn of Victorian poetry. I hope soon—one day very soon—the barriers that hold us apart will crumble like the Berlin Wall to make way for a real love told about in the romance stories you read each day.

  This is the first time I have dared to include your name in my letters, as I promised myself I would never interfere with the affairs of a married couple. However, the things I have seen, I have heard, forced me to express what I feel for you. Please don’t think a home-wrecker or me vain for I will keep my distance until you find out the truth. Until then I will leave you with this: Love—a word that is meaningless unless the person who says it truly means it. One cannot force love; it must be felt, and both parties must desire it. That undying, gratifying sensation that we call love will befall you someday. I hope that when the day comes, I will be the one to earn it from you. So long—for now, Isabella Kam.

  These letters couldn’t be from my husband. He would never write such kind words. Now I had to find out whom these were from. He was penetrating my heart without me even knowing who he was. I had to find out, and soon.

  Chapter 2

  Dante

  I watched as Nathan set out to go hunting, and it wasn’t long before he found his prey. This time it was a woman he met at a grocery store. His sexual conquests knew no bounds. Putting him under surveillance was no easy task. But I had to be sure. I needed to know whether the rumors of his transgression held any truth. And what I found was beyond repugnant to say the least.

  He’d kept a log detailing the richness of each woman he coerced into his bed. He labeled everything from the amount of time it took him to talk them out of their clothes, to the positions they used while having sex. The number of orgasms they’d have, their ethnicity, their age, their level of naïvety. He also included a grade on how well they’d performed.

  He hid his sexual conquests well enough to buy his wife’s confidence, but not that of her friends, who always knew something was off with him. With his sweet promises and way with words, it only took him an hour before he and his conquest were headed to his home. He knew Isabella wouldn’t be there. With no shame or remorse, the second they entered the house he ripped her clothes off and started licking her navel.

  I could see it all as Isabella’s husband, Nathan Williams—the professional womanizer—had his way with yet another woman. My nerves fluttered in disgust as I watched him from my villa. If the walls of their home had not been mostly glass, I would have been spared the repugnance of this rendezvous. Nathan didn’t seem to care. He believed he had his wife so firmly tied around his finger that she wouldn’t believe anyone, even if they were to show her pictures and videos of his indiscretions. He was a cocky bastard as well as delusional.

  I couldn’t begin to understand what Isabella saw in this man, and hoped my letters would somehow influence her decision to leave him. I wasn’t quite sure if Isabella was receiving my messages or if they were being washed away in the vast sea that pierced the beachfront. All I could do was hope she received them.

  Gazing through the window, I watched as Nathan, in less than five minutes, had his way with the woman. If only Isabella could have walked in right as it was happening. While it would hurt, she would finally be free of the fucker. I would just have to wait until that day came. Until then, I would watch silently in the hopes that day came sooner as opposed to later.

  Chapter 3

  Nathan

  “You were great,” I said before rolling off her to grab a cigar. With her large doe-eyes, she gazed at me and smiled. I lit my cigar and blew smoke into her face without returning the gesture. “Now get the fuck out.” She looked at me, shocked. Only then did I smile. Pulling the sheets over her body, she sat upright and glared at me.

  “What do you mean, get out?”

  I laughed and took a long drag of my cigar before taking a seat on a nearby chair.

  “I mean . . . Get. The. Fuck. Out,” I said, giving her a dismissive gaze.

  “So you thought you’d just fuck me and kick me out? Who the hell do you think you are?” she bellowed. I laughed even harder.

  “Take a look, whore.” I dug into the pocket of my jeans lying on the floor and threw a picture of me and my wife on vacation in the Bahamas straight at her face. “I’m the married man you just let fuck you raw on the first date. Now, get the hell out of my home and the fuck out of my life.” I flicked the ashes from the cigar onto the floor with a devious grin. She stared at the picture in shock and then jumped out of bed.

  “You’re a fucking asshole!”

  “Ya gotta be something, right? Now get your shit and get the hell out.”

  She put on her clothes swiftly and stormed out the front door. “Good luck getting a taxi out here,” I sneered. I then hopped onto the bed and spread out my limbs, satisfied. Another one for my log. Continuing to smoke my cigar, I pulled a notebook from underneath the pillow. I saw a faint image of one of our neighbors looking on as my latest conquest wal
ked down my driveway half-naked.

  And I hoped he saw everything that happened beforehand. Putting on a show for the neighbors was something that satisfied me. I was just lucky enough that none of them had the guts to tell Isabella what went on when she was gone. And how could they? Most of the people who lived around here were cowards, too afraid to admit to themselves what truly turned them on. I was confident in that fear and Isabella would never know.

  Chapter 4

  Dante

  “Make sure that woman gets home safely,” I told my business manager and close friend, Gaspard Dufort. I couldn’t believe he was just going to let that woman walk home. Heartless bastard.

  “Should I call her a taxi or offer her a ride myself?” asked Gaspard.

  “Offer her a ride. It’s up to her if she’ll take it or not.”

  “Of course, Dante,” Gaspard said before he took his keys and headed to his car. I decided to leave for Madrid for a few days to clear my head. This couldn’t last long, as I figured Isabella would catch her husband in the middle of one of his trysts soon enough. When that day came, I would have an opportunity to make my move. As I glanced out the window just before leaving, I could see the bastard. I took my binoculars to where I could see Nathan across the way, lying on the bed and writing in his notebook. The book alone would be incriminating enough, so I hoped Isabella would find it.

  Chapter 5

  Isabella

  Work was draining as usual. Focusing on emerging markets in Asia was costly and time-consuming. We were testing to see if our cosmetic products would appeal to the Korean and Chinese markets.

  I had been working on this partnership with the Zinghai Ma Corporation for months, and if this deal went through, it would catapult me into being a leader in this industry, as it should. On the eve of our initial public offering, this company, this brand I’d built from the ground up, would be an economic powerhouse. This was all I had focused on for the last year, and the stress was getting to me.