31 Days of Winter

  31 Days of Winter

  By C. J. Fallowfield

  Kindle Edition

  Version 2E

  ASIN: B00NA8E4GK

  Copyright © 2014 C. J. Fallowfield

  All Rights Reserved Worldwide

  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author

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

  Image Copyright © 2014

  Edited by Ella Marie

  Proofreading by Karen J

  Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

  http://www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Foreword

  Thank you so much for buying 31 Days of Winter.

  This is book one of the 31 Days Series, a duology combining romance, erotica and humour. The series is designed to be read in the following sequence:

  31 Days of Winter

  then

  31 Days of Summer

  Find out more on my social media pages:

  http://www.cjfallowfield.co.uk

  https://www.facebook.com/cjfallowfield

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7807992.C_J_Fallowfield

  https://www.twitter.com/CJFallowfield

  Chapters

  Day One

  Day Two

  Day Three

  Day Four

  Day Five

  Day Six

  Day Seven

  Day Eight

  Day Nine

  Day Ten

  Day Eleven

  Day Twelve

  Day Thirteen

  Day Fourteen

  Day Fifteen

  Day Sixteen

  Day Seventeen

  Day Eighteen

  Day Nineteen

  Day Twenty

  Day Twenty One

  Day Twenty Two

  Day Twenty Three

  Day Twenty Four

  Day Twenty Five

  Day Twenty Six

  Day Twenty Seven

  Day Twenty Eight

  Day Twenty Nine

  Day Thirty

  Day Thirty One

  31 Days of Summer

  Acknowledgments

  Next Release

  For the Night Series

  The Austin Series

  Day One

  Ellie

  As I stood in the doorway of my bedroom and tried to work out who and what I was seeing from the tangled limbs and the bodies adorning my bed, I realised that this Friday was going to end like no other ever had.

  When I woke up that morning, Friday the sixth of December, it had started out just like every Friday morning for the last year. I was in a routine, a seriously boring routine. Zac, my fiancé of four years would come into the bedroom in his three piece suit, his black briefcase in one hand and his stainless steel travel mug emitting delicious coffee scented steam in the other, to kiss me goodbye before heading into the City to broker share deals for his clients. I’d get up, shower, dress in a smart power suit and grab a bagel from the local deli, which I’d eat on my tube ride to my job as a Senior Editor to the most ill-tempered CEO of a publishing house ever born. Most people were happy in their jobs on a Friday, because the working week was nearly over, not him. If anything his mood darkened as the day progressed, you could practically witness the storm clouds rolling in ready for the lightning strike, due to his fury at everyone racing for the exit door at five p.m. I always dreaded those Friday afternoons at work, they left me so stressed. I was always one of the first in that mad dash for the door, for that sudden bid for freedom, we were like herds of stampeding wildebeest and it was our weekly migration. I’d head home, cook and eat, usually alone, as Zac often worked late then went for a drink with his colleagues. I’d have a relaxing bath with a glass or two of wine to ease the tension, then an early night to prepare me for a relaxing weekend. And that was my Friday routine for as long as I could remember, until today.

  I’d been with Zac for five years, we’d met straight after I finished University and had moved in together a year later. He was a charmer, he could sell condoms to a eunuch and man, did he know how to woo a girl. He was handsome, well-toned and funny, and had me in hysterics more often than not. I really enjoyed spending time with him and had happily accepted when he proposed, but lately I wasn’t entirely convinced that it was love, if it had ever been. He was an easy package to fall for, but I was wondering if that was all it was, easy. I felt no great passion or lust for him and didn’t pine when we were apart for any reason. I was a romantic, I’d always believed that great loves would die without each other, like Romeo and Juliet. I wanted that, without the whole misunderstanding and tragic death part, of course. I wanted to want someone, badly, and be that desired in return.

  I cared for Zac deeply, but I’d never wanted him, or needed him. It was just easy. Except for the sex. Our sex life, if you could call it that, had diminished to the point that we only did it if he was drunk enough to initiate it, or if it was a special occasion, even then it had been nearly a year since we had. New Year’s Eve, eleven whole months of no sex. I’d been re-virginised and was spending a serious amount of money on batteries and vibrator cleansing wipes. With Zac working as a Stockbroker in London’s financial district, known as the City, and given the state of play of the markets for the last few years, I assumed that his lack of interest in me was due to the stress he was under. I could have initiated sex myself, but after a few rejections, which had really hurt my ego, quite frankly I preferred my vibrator. That pretty much spoke volumes about the state of our relationship.

  As for his obvious lack of desire for me, well that I just couldn’t fathom. It wasn’t like I was unattractive, far from it. I was five foot ten, a size twelve with a firm pert pair of tits and an arse that men loved to grab, even when it was uninvited. I had below the shoulder straight blonde hair, which offset my pale skin making my emerald green eyes seem even brighter. I always drew attention on a night out and when we’d first started dating and living together he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off me. Yet, leading up to our permanent drought, sex had seemed to have become a function that we felt we had to perform, until it finally fizzled out altogether. Even his humour was starting to wane, he was tense and irritable and spent more and more hours in the office.

  It wasn’t as if I were totally blameless, I knew that. As well as my preference for my vibrator, I felt totally unfulfilled in my job. As if working alongside my boss John, fondly known as Captain Cranky amongst the staff, wasn’t bad enough, I was convinced I could do a better job at writing than half of the books that I was being paid to edit. Recently I’d dreamed of packing it in and just trying my hand at a novel. Financially we could afford for me to do it, Zac owned a penthouse apartment on Canary Wharf, mortgage free, and we had considerable joint savings which had a balance standing at a little over £60,000 when I last checked. He paid all the bills, I covered the food and did the cooking and cleaning. Most of my wages, that weren’t spent on shoes, clothes and bags, an admitted indulgence of mine, went into savings. We were building up a nest egg to move out of London and into the country, ready for when we got married and started a family.

  We also kept individual savings and I’d managed to accrue just over £20,000 in mine. I could afford to pack in work, try writing for a few months and if it didn’t work out look for another edit
ing job with a new firm. I was respected in the industry and had been headhunted a number of times, but despite my current predicament with Captain Cranky, I really didn’t like change, better the devil and all that. I’d suffered some loss in my life and found routine and stability suited me.

  As I stood on the tube, tucking into my cream cheese bagel, I pondered my plans for Zac’s birthday tomorrow. I decided I needed to think of doing something special to cheer him up, as I was fed up being surrounded by irritable men lately. Given that I was also sex starved, I figured if we couldn’t try and reignite our libidos on his birthday, then when could we? So that’s how my day began. Full of routine and completely lacking in excitement. I got to work and was virtually slammed back into the lift by the wave of tension emanating from the few employees who were already in and decided I didn’t need this today, not if I wanted to be in the right frame of mind for an attempted romantic fun birthday weekend. I went and knocked on the Captain’s open door.

  ‘What?’ he roared in my direction, my hair billowing behind me as I wiped my mouth from the imaginary flobber that had flown across the room from his snarling jaws.

  ‘I need to take the day off, John.’

  ‘Why?’ His titanium grey eyes snapped up to meet mine, bathing me in disapproval.

  ‘Personal reasons.’

  ‘I need you here,’ he muttered stubbornly.

  ‘I’ve already completed all of my deadlines for the week, I have no clients to see today and if anything comes in this afternoon I’ll get Natasha to email it over and work on it this weekend.’ I held his gaze, no way was I backing down, I hadn’t had a day off in four months and I’d learned with John never to ask, you told him what you wanted and he respected you all the more for it.

  ‘You’d better work all bloody weekend if something comes in,’ he snapped.

  ‘I’ve never let you down before,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Fine,’ he relented. ‘Where the hell’s Natasha? I need my coffee.’

  ‘It’s eight-twenty, she doesn’t start until nine.’

  ‘What use is that to me? I want her here by eight-thirty the latest.’

  ‘You pay her nine to five, John,’ I replied, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. ‘You’d need to discuss that with HR and see if Natasha’s prepared to do more hours.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, what happened to working the hours needed to get the job done? Fine, get me a coffee and you can go,’ he sighed as he looked back down at the papers on his desk. I gave in and rolled my eyes, failing to point out that I was only paid from nine as well, and given that he’d just agreed for me to take the day off, I was actually free to leave. Instead I thought of how much more irritable he’d be without his caffeine fix and decided to spare Natasha the receptionist even more aggro when she walked through the door.

  I stepped out to the crisp December morning and stood on the pavement outside our office building, looking left and right as I tried to formulate a plan of action.

  I spent the morning being preened and polished with a haircut, a mani-pedi and facial, a leg, underarm and bikini wax, then went to Harrods and treated myself to a glass of champagne and some oysters for lunch. I’d need as much help as I could bump starting my libido for Zac again. I purchased a new pair of sexy gold strapped high heeled sandals and a halter-neck cream and gold sleeveless maxi dress, with a revealing side slit and cleavage enhancing neckline.

  ‘Afternoon Miss Baxter, you’re home early,’ called Harry the security guard, from his position behind the desk in the lobby of our apartment building.

  ‘I fancied a day off, to prepare a surprise for Zac,’ I smiled. He pulled a knowing face as he nodded and I saw the hint of a frown. ‘Is everything ok, Harry?’

  ‘I can’t complain, Miss Baxter,’ he smiled as he rose and strode to the lift doors and pressed the button for me, obviously sensing that given all of the bags in my hands I’d find it difficult.

  ‘You’re so kind, thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ He reached into the lift and pressed the button to the Penthouse for me.

  ‘See you soon, Harry.’ I smiled at him as the doors closed and the lift trembled its way up to the top floor. I had quite a feat to hold my bags in one hand as I used the other to turn the key in the lock and was surprised to see Zac’s briefcase in the hall. I dumped my bags and headed into the open plan living room and kitchen, where there was no sign of life, except for a bottle of nearly empty champagne sitting on the island. How odd, I thought. It wasn’t like Zac to be home at this time, unless he was ill. But if he was unwell what was he doing drinking a bottle of champagne? I walked over to our bedroom and opened the door, and took in a sharp, shocked, inhalation of air as I looked at the scene in front of me.

  Zac was naked, pounding the hell out of some brunette from behind, while she had her face buried between a blonde’s legs, who in turn was eating her out. Zac must’ve heard my gasp and looked around and his face went pale as he saw me standing there, not quite able to believe what I was seeing. It was car crash TV, I knew I shouldn’t be looking, but my stupid eyes wouldn’t look away. At least he had the good grace to stop fucking her immediately, that was something I supposed.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, Ellie! You were supposed to be at work,’ he groaned and the girls stopped their munching and one of them giggled.

  ‘O I’m sorry Zac, how rude of me to come back to my own house during the day and interrupt your threesome! I should’ve checked that you’d pencilled into your diary “Cheat on Ellie in our bed” and I’d have known to stay out of the way and give you some privacy. My apologies for the inconvenience, please carry on, enjoy your orgasms.’ I turned and slammed the door, marched to the kitchen and drank some of the dregs of champagne from the bottle. I idly ran my finger over the worktop which had white flour all over it, odd given Zac didn’t even know how to cook. My hands were visibly shaking, but what was more shocking was the fact that I was more upset that he was fucking other women in our bed, my favourite, comfiest place in the entire apartment, rather than him actually fucking other women. I put the bottle back to my lips as the bedroom door swung open and he appeared bare chested buttoning up his jeans.

  ‘Fuck El, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘Two whores by the looks of it, I can smell them all over you from here. Get them out right now, or so help me God I’ll drag them out by the hair,’ I warned.

  ‘They’re going. Please don’t be mad with me, honey.’

  ‘Don’t you dare “honey” me, and don’t be mad with you?! You haven’t touched me in months Zac, then you bring home two women to fuck in our bed behind my back? I knew we were having a rough time, but Jesus …’ I shook my head and pinched the top of my nose as I leaned back against the kitchen worktop.

  ‘El, I love you, but you don’t understand how tough it’s been for me lately at work. I’ve lost a fortune and my clients are out for my blood. I needed to blow off some steam.’

  ‘You couldn’t have talked to me or blown it off with me? What did those two woman have that I didn’t? We’re engaged.’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘O, so suddenly it’s my fault again?’ I fixed him with a glare and he flinched.

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying, I …’ he went silent as the bedroom door opened and the two women came out. One look at their clothes told me he hadn’t just picked up two women, he’d paid for prostitutes, cheap ones at that. I suddenly felt physically sick and needed out of here. I marched to the spare bedroom, fuming.

  ‘You’d better pay them Zac, while I get out of the way. They need to be gone by the time I get out or I won’t be held responsible for my actions.’ I slammed the door behind me and opened the wardrobe and pulled out my overnight suitcase. No way was I staying here tonight, the way I was feeling right now … I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to stay here again. I flopped down on the spare bed and picked up the phone and rang my best friend Brooke.

  ‘Hey babe,
what’s up? Captain Crank reached gale force ten already?’ she laughed as she answered.

  ‘Not sure about him, but I’m at violent storm level eleven.’

  ‘Shit, that’s some serious blow. What’s he done now?’

  ‘Not him, Zac. I came home early to plan a nice birthday weekend, to try and reconnect you know, and I found him fucking two prostitutes in our bed.’

  ‘O God, babe,’ she sighed. ‘Pack a bag and get your arse over here right now. I’ll go make up the spare room.’

  ‘You sure I won’t be in your way?’

  ‘Nah, I’ll tell Steve he can come over another time. He fucks me too often as it is, I need a break or I’ll need surgery on my dislocated arthritic hips. Get over here and I’ll have a bottle of Grigio on ice for us and we can talk. Love you, babe.’

  ‘You too, Brooke. I reckon it will be about six by the time I’ve packed up and headed over.’

  ‘No problem, see you soon,’ she breezed. I sighed as I put the phone down. Getting out of here and seeing Brooke would do me a world of good. We’d met in a casino where we’d both worked while I was at Uni and had hit it off straight away, she was a straight talker, no bullshit and I loved that. You never asked Brooke if your arse looked fat in your new jeans as she’d tell you that it did. I opened the bedroom door, case in hand and stepped into the lounge to find Zac slumped on the sofa. He leapt to his feet as I came out and looked panicked when he saw my case.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Packing and getting out of here.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘Until I’ve processed how I’m feeling and decided if I want to come back.’

  ‘El, I’m so sorry, I really mean it,’ he groaned.

  ‘Don’t make excuses Zac, you’re a grown man. If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t have done it.’