Tell Me Everything: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  CONTENTS

  Tell Me Everything

  NEWSLETTER

  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

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  Collaborations

  About the Author

  TELL ME EVERYTHING

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 290

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2022 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  TELL ME EVERYTHING

  I have a problem.

  I run an advice blog called Tell Me Everything and one of my readers wants tips for a first date.

  The thing is… I’ve never been on a date.

  I have no idea what to write.

  Then Preston Packer overhears me in the elevator of my crummy office job. He’s there for charity work, not to solve my problems.

  An ex-football star and millionaire with silver-streaked hair, and a body that fills my mind with steamy fantasies. At six and a half feet with more experience than I could ever dream of, I know he’d never be interested in me.

  But then he makes an offer.

  He’ll take me out. It's an experience for my blog, he says.

  I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything. I’m a twenty year old virgin. I’ve never even had a real boyfriend. He’s just being nice.

  Then he kisses me in the most possessive way imaginable.

  I can’t believe it. I’m on the curvy side, shy as hell, and a virgin to boot, and he wants me?

  But can I live up to his expectations?

  And, there is the tiny matter that my boss happens to be his ex-girlfriend.

  * Tell Me Everything is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Penny

  “Don’t you usually make it up?” Juliana takes a sip of her coffee, pausing when I flash her a look. “Sorry, what did I say?”

  I quickly offer her a smile, sliding my finger around the rim of my empty mug. Beyond the break room, the office is a hub of activity, tapping keys and raised voices as employees arrange media appearances, PR strategies, and generally keep the office running smoothly.

  I’m an admin assistant, the lowest of the low in this giant media conglomerate, but I still feel a faint shiver of pride at the way everyone pitches in, doing their best to make the company as successful as possible.

  It sure as heck beats waitressing… at least at the restaurant where I worked last year, where the manager was the grumpiest, cruelest man I’ve ever met.

  I shake my head, jolting back to the conversation with Juliana. “You’re right. A lot of my advice isn’t based on personal experiences. But I’m not sure I’d say I make it up.”

  Juliana nods. She’s a few years older than me at twenty-eight, with long dark hair almost black. She wears her curves easily, owning them in her form-hugging outfits, whereas I do my best to cover mine with baggy clothes.

  It’s not that I’m ashamed but I don’t want to single myself out as a mark for bullying.

  I try to push that feeling away. I’m twenty. High school is a long way away. There’s no reason for me to think anybody would spontaneously start bullying me.

  But life is like that, I guess. Some memories leave a stain.

  Juliana smiles. “Why can’t you do the same here?”

  We’re talking about my advice blog, Tell Me Everything, which has accumulated a respectable following ever since I started it just last year. I made the website one afternoon on a whim, never dreaming it would grow so quickly to ten thousand loyal readers.

  People email in with all sorts of problems, from work stress to relationship advice. The latter is the most awkward because I’ve never even had a real relationship, never had a real date.

  So why the heck did I start an advice blog?

  I’ve asked myself the same question many times, mostly when I’m lying awake at night, unable to sleep as my mind swims with ideas about my dream career, becoming a talk show host, perhaps as an offshoot of my website.

  Tall dreams for a girl who can barely look her friend in the eye.

  What freaking planet am I on?

  “I’m getting tired of talking out of my ass,” I mutter.

  “Hey.” Juliana frowns. “Don’t you dare start throwing a pity party. You don’t talk out of your ass. You’re clearly an empathetic person. I couldn’t do what you do. When you give your advice, Penny, it’s like you become that person. At that point, you don’t need to have lived exactly what they have.”

  I shrug, nodding, even as her words expand that hollow feeling in my chest. Last night, somebody wrote a long message, asking for advice about her first date with a long-time crush.

  Leaning over my laptop, I’d poised my fingertips over the keys. Normally, I took a few minutes, or up to an hour, to ponder their situation. I do a mental exercise where I really think through their message, imagining myself in their place, brainstorming the best course of action.

  It’s much easier when you’re on the outside, free from the confusion of the situation, able to view it objectively.

  “I’ve never even been on a date,” I whispered under my breath, dropping my hands, and staring at the message.

  The word fraud rose inside my head jackhammering in my chest, making my heart thud.

  Juliana sighs. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not like I can just ask a random stranger out on a date.”

  “Why not?”

  I laugh, but there’s an edge to it. “I feel like I’ll die of embarrassment just thinking about it.”

  “Oh, Penny.” Juliana’s wedding and engagement rings brush against her coffee mug, making a metal clinking sound, reminding me that she’s living a life worlds away from mine. “I don’t think that’s true at all. Just turn on your babble charm.”

  I giggle, this time more genuine. Babble charm is what Juliana branded it when we first met, around ten months ago. I was so nervous when I started working here, I couldn’t stop talking, blurting out sentence after sentence, not even conscious of what I was saying.

  I thought I came across as the biggest dork in the universe, but Juliana said I was endearing.

  “Maybe I’ll shut the blog down,” I mutter.

  “Why?” Juliana demands.

  “It’s not fair on my readers, acting like I know what’s best for them when I don’t even know what’s best for myself.”

  Juliana leans forwards, her eyes narrowing. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed a little off all day.”

  My heart pounds harder in my chest. I think about not telling her, but she’s obviously noticed something, and Juliana is my best work friend. Heck, considering how few I have – basically Juliana and my sister – I could say she’s my best friend, period.

  I glance at the clock, seeing there are still ten minutes before we have to return to our desks.

  “It’s the anniversary today,” I say quietly.

  She looks at me for a moment, then her eyebrows shoot up. “Of your dad’s passing?”

  Passing seems like a weird way to phrase it, making me think of drifting off peacefully in sleep, making me think of softly gliding away to some magical place.

  Not what happened to dad, not all that pain and violence.

  I wave a hand at her. “Anyway, there are bigger problems in the world than my little blog.”

  “It’s not a little blog,” she says. “You’ve grown it way more than most people ever could. You should be proud. And if you want to talk about your dad, I’m here.”

  “Thank you.” I smile, letting her know I’m grateful. “Let’s change the
subject. I’m even bumming myself out.”

  We talk about her kids for a while, laughing about her eldest, who recently decided he wanted to make a fort out of all the cereal boxes from the industrial recycling bin down the street from their house. I grin at the thought, but there’s an unfair feeling at the back of it all, tugging painfully at my heart, telling me this sort of love will never be mine.

  Back at my desk, I get on with my work. As an admin assistant, a lot of my duties are rote and boring.

  I spend the afternoon proofreading copy for a bunch of press releases, paying special attention to every line.

  My boss, Lena, can be a real hardass when we make even the smallest mistake.

  It’s like Lena has read my mind.

  Just as I’m thinking about her, she comes to stand over my desk, a tall lean woman with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper grimace. She wears her hair in a tight bun, scraped close to her head.

  On the other side of the desk, Juliana glances up at me, a frown on her face. We both know what could be on the way. Another of Lena’s infamous rants.

  “Where’s the press release for the Policheck account?”

  I swallowed, glancing at my computer screen. My email is open. Clicking onto the sent section, I pray that it’s there, that it hasn’t been sitting in my outbox waiting to be sent when I completed it almost an hour ago.

  But no, it’s been sent, straight to Lena’s account.

  Nodding at the screen, I say, “I sent it fifty-two minutes ago.”

  “Hmm.” Lena huffs as she looks at my screen, then back to me. “Then why isn’t it in my inbox?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? Have you done something wrong?”

  I resist the urge to groan. Lena is mostly a good manager, giving us the leeway to approach our work how we think best, but sometimes she’ll spiral into these rants, as though getting some perverse pleasure out of it.

  “No,” I say.

  Lena laughs coldly. “Pretty confident considering there’s no way you can know that for sure. I’m going to talk to IT. If this is your fault, there will be consequences.”

  With a melodramatic huff, Lena spins and stalks through the office, her hands' tight fists at her sides.

  “What the heck was that about?” I murmur. “The email is right there.”

  Juliana leans over her desk, lowering her voice. “I wouldn’t worry about it. She’s been on edge all day. Apparently, her ex-boyfriend is coming in for a meeting later.”

  “Really? What about?”

  “You know Preston Packer, the football star?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not great when it comes to sports.”

  “He’s in his forties now. You were just a kid when he made his mark, winning countless awards… anyway, they dated for a while, I heard, years ago. But she’s never been able to let it go. It’s nothing to do with you, Penny. It’s all her.”

  I swallow, not liking the idea of getting caught between them one bit.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Preston

  “You should’ve told me,” I growl, squeezing the steering wheel hard so hard it might crack as I drive through the city.

  Freddie, my old football buddy and now my publicity manager, sighs through the speaker in my car. I can imagine him standing on his apartment’s balcony, a grim set to his lips, staring out over the sea.

  “I didn’t know until this morning,” he says. “But what difference does it make?”

  I think about Lena, how we left things. It’s been eight years since we split up. We only lived together for only two months, but it was the worst time of my life, reminding me that that sort of life isn’t for me.

  I’m too much of a grim bastard. I haven’t got the emotional depth a woman needs. All my life, I’ve been waiting to feel what other men apparently do, that soul-capturing longing, that deep primal need.

  It’s never happened.

  So I focused on my real estate business, my media appearances, and my sportscasting work. I focused, most of all, on my charity work, helping people with brain injuries live their fullest lives.

  “Preston?”

  “If these media appearances weren’t for the charity,” I tell him, “I’d turn this car around right now.”

  “It’s been eight years,” Freddie reasons. “Surely she’s moved on.”

  “I hope so. I want nothing to do with her.”

  “You never told me exactly what happened between you two.”

  “Nothing major,” I say with a grunt. “But I’d still rather not see her. Let’s just hope you’re right. Let’s hope she’s found someone.”

  Freddie remains silent, and I can imagine what he’s thinking.

  When am I going to find somebody else?

  But moving in with Lena taught me something. I can’t force myself to be the sort of man society tells me to be, find a woman, settle down, and start a family.

  I want those things. Sometimes, I dream about having a full life and a happy family.

  But I’ve never found the right woman. I’ve stopped looking honestly. No one makes me feel a damn thing.

  It does wonders for my working life, meaning I can dedicate myself to my work, but I’ve accumulated a fortune. I’ve built something of an empire.

  What’s it all for?

  “You probably won’t even see her,” Freddie says. “You’re meeting with the CEO. You’re a big deal. There’s no reason for you to meet with one of their dozen managers.”

  “Flattery, Freddie?” I say, trying for a laugh. “Is that what you’ve been reduced to?”

  He chuckles. “I’ve got to try something, you grumpy motherfucker.”

  We both laugh, sinking into the easy banter we shared in the locker rooms.

  “This is a ceremonial meeting, right? Dotting the i’s and all that?”

  “Yeah,” Freddie says. “You should be in and out in no more than thirty minutes.”

  “All right. I’ll hold you to that.”

  Freddie chuckles again. “And if you’re out in thirty-one minutes instead?”

  I grin. “Then I’m going to fire your ass.”

  We both know I’m joking, and soon we move on to other topics.

  But there’s still that lingering worry at the back of my mind when I think about Lena causing a scene. It would be just like her to resort to melodrama.

  The meeting goes smoothly, just like Freddie promised it would. My meeting is on the top floor of the building, in a large office overlooking the city. I’m going to be giving a series of talks, some of them televised, later this year.

  Despite knowing that Lena is in the building somewhere – probably seething at my very presence – I leave the office with a smile on my face.

  This meeting is going to result in more money for my charity, which in turn will make the lives of those suffering from traumatic brain injuries easier.

  I walk down the hallway, to the elevator, almost whistling a tune. I feel like a jackass for being so grumpy about the whole thing earlier, but maybe that’s just who I am, deep down, a pessimistic man trying to do some good despite my moods.

  Whatever. I don’t like spending all day looking inward, introspecting about all my motivations and desires.

  I’m going to head down to the gym, and get a quick pre-session workout before I host the kids’ boxing class I give.

  If I can’t have a family of my own – if no woman has ever ignited that unstoppable tsunami of hunger inside of me – at least I can help the younger generation grow in confidence, ability, and general wellbeing.