Charlie Read online

  Books in this series

  PLEASE NOTE

  DEDICATION

  Prologue

  Coffee Confusion

  CHAPTER 1

  Mr. Robertson

  CHAPTER 2

  Ireland

  CHAPTER 3

  Trinity College

  CHAPTER 4

  Late Night Texts

  Bus Trip

  CHAPTER 6

  French Pastry

  CHAPTER 7

  Kilmacduagh Abbey

  CHAPTER 8

  Worth It?

  CHAPTER 9

  Movie Night

  CHAPTER 10

  Snoring

  CHAPTER 11

  The Mastermind Group

  CHAPTER 12

  Sunday Dinner

  CHAPTER 13

  Status Report

  CHAPTER 14

  Reconciliation

  CHAPTER 15

  Moving In

  CHAPTER 16

  Questions

  CHAPTER 17

  Stirring the Pot

  CHAPTER 18

  Brainwashing

  CHAPTER 19

  The Body

  CHAPTER 20

  A Cry for Attention

  CHAPTER 21

  When Adults Lie

  CHAPTER 22

  Deal Breaker

  CHAPTER 23

  Unhinged

  CHAPTER 24

  Heat

  CHAPTER 25

  The Next Level

  CHAPTER 26

  Flying Bullets

  CHAPTER 27

  Goodbye

  EPILOGUE

  Pool Party

  BONUS

  CHAPTER 1

  Books in this series

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Copyright © 2019

  By Elin Peer

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, excepting brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  ASIN: B07TVL5774

  Charlie – Cultivated #1

  First Edition

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons or organizations is coincidental and not intended by the author. Recommended for mature readers due to adult content.

  Cover Art by Kellie Dennis: bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Editing: www.martinohearn.com

  Books in this series

  For the best reading experience and to avoid spoilers this is the recommended order to read the Cultivated series in.

  #1 Charlie

  #2 Atlas

  #3 Lumi

  #4 Nathan

  #5 River

  #6 Maximum

  To be alerted for new book releases, sign up to my list and receive a free e-book as a welcome gift. www.elinpeer.com

  Have you read all of my books yet?

  Men of the North:

  1 prequel and 10 romantic stories that take place 400 years in the future where women rule the world.

  These stories are unlike anything you’ve ever read and have made several bestselling lists on Amazon.

  It’s a tug of war between the crude alpha men on one side of the border and the altruristic women on the other side.

  Can they find a way to integrate?

  Clashing Colors:

  These 5 contemporary romance stories dive into the theme of opposites attract.

  From romantic comedy to dramatic scenes offering food for thought; these books will make you both laugh and cry.

  The Slave Series:

  5 intense “enemy to lovers” books portraying strong women who won’t be defined as victims.

  Expect some dark scenes and steamy sex.

  PLEASE NOTE

  This book is intended for mature readers only, as it contains a few graphic scenes and some inappropriate language. It deals with the subject of suicide so if you know that’s a trigger, this book is not for you.

  All characters are fictional and any likeness to a living person or organization is coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my good friend Bolette

  Thank you for flying to Ireland and helping me with my research.

  Seeing Dublin, Trinity College, Howth, the cliffs of Moher, and the medieval city of Galway was amazing, and so was staying in an old Irish castle for a few days.

  Not least because of your amazing company.

  Elin

  Prologue

  Coffee Confusion

  Charles

  The comforting aroma of coffee hit me as soon as I opened the door and stepped into one of the coffee shops on campus. For a Wednesday morning the line wasn’t too long, but most of the tables were taken by study groups who preferred the informal setting over the study hall at the library.

  Without making eye contact with the guy behind the register, I gave my order. “I’ll just have a large Americano.”

  “Any snacks or pastry with that today?”

  “No thanks.”

  “All right. What’s the name for the order?”

  “Charlie.”

  “Okay, we’ll have your coffee coming right up.”

  Moving over to let other customers give their orders, I scanned the room but saw no one that I knew. It wasn’t surprising, since I was no social butterfly and the people that I considered friends were few. With thousands of students on campus it was rare that I ran into anyone I knew by chance.

  The loud sound of a chair scraping over the floor drew my attention when a young woman got up from her group and walked to the counter to study the coffee shop’s display of cakes and sandwiches.

  The knitted sweater she had on was dark blue and looked worn, which made me think this was one of her favorites. It fell over her left shoulder revealing her smooth skin and a thin white lace bra-strap that made it impossible for me not to envision what the rest of that bra looked like on her. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and her long curly brown hair was damp as if she’d showered and hurried out the door, but with her feminine curves and symmetrical features, she stood out to me as an example of natural beauty.

  “Can I have one of your cinnamon rolls and a hot chocolate?” The natural beauty pushed her right hand into her back pocket to fish out some crumpled-up dollars. It was impossible not to notice how round and perfect her behind was. Calculating the amount of sugar that she would be indulging in, I wondered how she managed to look like she lived off broccoli and seaweed.

  She talked with the barista as if they were old friends and they laughed about his claim that he could eat a whole cinnamon bun in one bite. He was flirting with her and I watched in fascination how easy he made it seem.

  I would’ve shaved off a whole grade point from my last exam to act that natural and relaxed around women. For me it was the opposite as beautiful women like her made me nervous, which was stupid since they never even looked in my direction.

  A female barista interrupted them when she addressed the guy at the register, “You need to take your break now before the lunch rush comes in. I’ll handle the store.”

  “Yes, boss.” He gave another smile to his cute customer and handed a cup to his colleague. “She wants a hot chocolate.”

  “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”

  He nodded like it was no big deal, while I sighed because I hated waiting on my coffee and now there would be one less employee working.

  The young man left and the noisy coffee machine drowned out conversations around the café. When Miss Natural Beauty looked over at me, flames shot up my neck and my tics kicked in so I turned my attention upon a community board, focusing on reading notes about tutoring, cooking classes, roommate opportunities, and sales of school books.

  “Hey.”


  Turning my head, I saw that she had moved over to stand next to me.

  “Hey.” I avoided eye contact and pretended to be very interested in the information on the board.

  “Are you looking at that support group? My friend Brian is involved in it. Have you been?”

  My heart was pumping and I felt my shyness pull up the protective shield of indifference that I’d perfected in my twenty-four years of living.

  “Been where?”

  She nodded to the note that she must have thought I was studying.

  Break your porn addiction!

  Join our support group

  Mondays and Wednesdays from 8 to 9 p.m.

  Everyone is welcome.

  “No, I… ehh…” I frowned and crossed my arms. “I don’t have a problem with porn.”

  With a playful smile, she tilted her head. “As in you don’t watch it or you don’t think there’s anything wrong with watching it?”

  Jeez! My heart was beating fast. I’d never discussed my view on porn with anyone.

  When I didn’t answer or smile back, she withdrew a little. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to be funny. My friends say I lack a filter and I guess I just proved them right.”

  “Charlie.” The barista placed my order on the counter in front of us, but before I could react, Miss No Filter reached for my warm drink, gave the barista a “thanks,” and lifted my cup of coffee to her lips.

  My brow rose in surprise at the same time her face scrunched up.

  “Excuse me but I asked for hot chocolate, this is coffee.”

  The barista looked over. “I’m sorry, did I get it wrong?”

  “No, it’s my order.”

  She turned to me. “Yours? No, it’s mine – see, it says Charlie on the side.”

  “I’m Charlie.”

  Her eyes widened and then she burst out, “Shut up. You’re called Charlie? Me too. It’s short for Charlotte but I never liked that name. My friends call me either Charlie, Liv, and sometimes Chris.”

  “That’s a lot of names for one person.”

  “I know, right.” She smiled. “Liv is my middle name and Chris is short for Christensen which is my last name. What about you? I bet you’re a Charles. You look like a Charles, being so stoic and serious.”

  My arms, which had been folded, dropped to my sides and I shifted my balance. I only appeared stoic and serious to people I didn’t know, and the bubbly personality of this woman was like a feather tickling and teasing me to let out my humor. If only she didn’t make me so nervous.

  “Yeah, I’m Charles. Charles McCann.” So much for coming up with a funny or clever response; and to make it worse, my tics kicked in again. Come on, say something clever and interesting. Ask her a question.

  There were a few seconds of silence and then she played with her hair. “I’m a freshman. An old freshman, but that’s because I took a few years after high school to work and travel. You?”

  “Not a freshman.” My tics were driving me insane. Just look normal for once.

  I looked to the door, mentally marking my escape route from this fail of an encounter with a woman who was everything I dreamed of when I was alone.

  “I bet you’re a numbers guy or a law student.”

  Nodding my head, I confirmed it. “International law. Finished my undergrad last year.”

  “Oh, so you already did the first four years. Then you only have what… three years left?”

  “Something like that.” I looked down at my cup of coffee that she was still holding. It made her jolt.

  “Shit, I’m so sorry. Here. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” A faint redness spread in her cheeks, just as the barista announced:

  “Here’s your hot chocolate with whipped cream.”

  “Thank you, ehm, I also paid for a cinnamon roll.” Charlie took the cup and brought it to her nose, sniffing in the scent. “Yup, this is much better than coffee.” Her smile revealed that her teeth were white, straight, and as perfect as the rest of her.

  “Did you have braces?” I could have face-palmed myself, but Charlie didn’t seem to mind my random question.

  “I did.” She flashed another big smile that unleashed another annoying round of tics for me.

  “Did you just wink at me?” She was still smiling, but the way she tilted her head so as to figure me out made me so bloody nervous that my tics went crazy. My right shoulder lifted, my nose wrinkled up, and my eyes winked again. All in quick succession and with me leaving her hanging and saying nothing.

  “Here’s your cinnamon roll,” the barista told her.

  Charlie reached for the plate and was just about to walk off when she stopped and looked down at the cup in my hands. “Are you okay drinking that? I don’t have any diseases or anything, but I can buy you another cup if you want me to.”

  I should have been charming and flirtatious and told her that putting my lips where hers had just been would be a pleasure, but I’d never been a smooth talker, so I just shook my head.

  “So, we’re fine then?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine. I can just take off the top.”

  There was a micro expression of embarrassment on her face. “Right.”

  I had my coffee and should get out of here, but as if Charlie were the sun of this campus, I was pulled in by her strong gravity, eager to stay in orbit a bit longer, just so I could feel her warmth.

  Tell her it came out wrong and that any man would be honored to share a cup with her.

  “Okay then. It was nice meeting you, Charles. I’m going to go back to my studies so I can one day become an influential anthropologist.”

  “Yes, very nice meeting you too, Charlie.”

  Come on. Ask for her phone number. Say something.

  This woman was stunning and charming and my instincts told me that I’d regret it if I left without a way to get ahold of her.

  With the same scraping of the floor as before, she pulled out her chair and joined her group again.

  Come on, just man up, and ask her out. I closed my eyes, regretting that I hadn’t done it earlier. Now she was surrounded by people and walking over there would be ten times more challenging for me.

  Stretching and fisting my hands, I pumped myself up, but just as I took my second step in her direction, the guy next to her pulled her in.

  “Babe, come on, give me some of your delicious bun. I know you want to.”

  She laughed and tried to protect her pastry, but he opened his mouth trying to take a bite. The playful energy between them made it clear to me that they were intimate.

  Of course she’s not single. That would have been a fucking miracle.

  I abandoned my mission of asking her out and headed to the exit.

  CHAPTER 1

  Mr. Robertson

  Liv

  5 Years Later

  The black interior of the limousine with the wet bar, the large sunroof, and the partition glass was all luxurious and a far cry from my own small Volkswagen beetle.

  It had been almost forty-five minutes since the driver had picked me up at my building in the center of Chicago. We were now in the suburb of Winnetka.

  With a major in anthropology, I was fascinated with the different demographics in neighborhoods. Winnetka shouted money: the beautiful view of Lake Michigan, the stately houses, and the lush golf course where well-dressed players drove golf carts and enjoyed time with their friends.

  The glass partition lowered between the driver and me. “We’re almost there, Miss Christensen.”

  “Thank you.”

  Opening my bag, I pulled out my phone and looked at the mysterious email I’d received three days ago.

  Dear Ms. Christensen,

  We trust you are well.

  Mr. Robertson, chairman of Solver Industries, would like to meet and discuss a private matter with you this Thursday, October 22nd, at 5 p.m.

  Are you available?

  Regards,

  Damon Green,

  PA for Mr.
Robertson, Solver Industries.

  The email didn’t give me any more details than it had the first time that I’d read it. Not even my response to Damon Green asking for an agenda had resulted in answers.

  All he had been able to say was that he didn’t know the agenda, as the meeting was of a private nature.

  I wasn’t one to jump when rich people asked me to, but Robertson was among the hundred most influential men in the world and a benefactor to Harvard, which I’d graduated from. He was known for his sharp intellect and his impressive rags-to- riches story.

  The limousine took a sharp turn and continued up a gorgeous driveway where tall trees formed an arched canopy above us.

  My parents had money but this was a different level of wealth than what I’d grown up with. It was certainly in stark contrast to the modest life I lived now. With my student debt and a job as an International Nonprofit Administrator, I was lucky to have my two-bedroom apartment in a decent building in downtown Chicago.

  The car came to a stop in front of a wide staircase in white stone. Before I had a chance to open my door, a man in a dark suit opened it for me.

  “Welcome Miss Christensen. I’m Damon Green. We corresponded.”

  “Hello.” Stepping out of the limousine with all the grace my mother had instilled in me from early childhood, I offered my hand to Damon, who was in his fifties and reminded me a little of an old-fashioned butler with the way he stood straight.

  “How was the drive?”

  “Fine, it’s a pretty area.”

  “Yes.” Waving his hand to the staircase, he gave me a polite smile. “Mr. Robertson is ready to see you.”

  We walked up the stairs and into the grand entry, where two curved staircases provided symmetry in a room created to impress.

  “May I take your jacket?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Damon waited for me to shrug out of my soft green leather jacket, which had been high fashion three years ago.