The Boss (A Billionaire Romance) Page 3

  Chapter 6

  Hours later, Clara was asleep in her bed, dreaming of Fredrick's smooth mouth on hers, his fingertips moving slowly over her tummy on their way to her sex, and the warm solid treat she imagined between his legs.

  "So hot . . . ah," she moaned, throwing off her bedcovers to cool down.

  Her moans irritated her sore chest, and she rolled over on her side to choke.

  Something toxic smothered her lungs and stifled her breath…

  Something was restricting her.

  "What the . . ?" she said, struggling to sit up.

  Wafting her arms around, she tried to clear a visual path.

  "What's going on?" she said, rubbing her eyes and straining to see through the post-sleep blurry vision, into her hazy room.

  Her room was too hot and her eyes were teary, making her sniff.

  “Smoke? ... What the…”

  The realization quickly set in.

  “Fuck! My house is on fire!”

  Rushing to listen at her bedroom door for clues as to whether she could escape through it, she was terrified of the heat against her cheek and the loud roar of flames beyond it.

  How far away are the flames?

  On this floor?

  Should I stay in my room, where it's smoky, but at least there's no fire?

  Yet.

  "No, not that way," she said to herself, running over to her window to fiddle with the lock. "Fuck, fuck, please open. Open!"

  In her panic, with smoke stinging her eyes, she couldn't turn the key and when she banged hard against the pane of glass, hoping to alert a passerby or break it, all she did was disable her wrist with a loud crack.

  Panic.

  "Ah . . ." Clara fell to the floor in pain, panting at the thick hot smoke as it passed beneath the door and corroded her lungs and throat.

  Fuck.

  The pillows on her bed would help to block the corrosive fumes, but Clara stared at them, already too dizzy and weak to get to her feet.

  All she could do was scream as loud as her damaged throat would allow…

  "Help, someone help. Help."

  Her screams were muffled.

  Her lungs were full already.

  Fuck.

  This was no way to go.

  The floor came rushing towards her face, and crashed against her cheek.

  Blackness swallowed her up in a kind of terrifying peace.

  Her last thoughts were of a white rose, her father's tears, and Fredrick's smile.

  Chapter 7

  As their fire truck pulled up outside the burning building, Fredrick and his squad were called to, he radioed back to base.

  "Units responding, medic engine 223 on the scene, establishing 212 in command. We have a two-story family dwelling with heavy smoke and fire coming from the front door."

  Pulling up to the house, Fredrick found distressed neighbors hanging around.

  "We will ascertain more on the scene."

  The hope was always that if anyone's suspected to be inside, members of the public would inform him, "And report further as events role out. Over."

  As he disembarked from the truck and everyone else in his squad moved to their posts, Fredrick estimated the fire was concentrated, for the time being at least, on the ground floor.

  This could be a good thing for anyone sleeping on the first floor, if the smoke hadn't already killed them.

  Drake, Fredrick's second in command reported to him via speaker, "All units be advised, enter this property via the North to the South. We have power lines down back here."

  "Copy that," Fredrick said, noticing a woman in her nightdress looking eager to speak to him. While the rest of the crew fired their hoses into the blaze, he approached her and asked, "Can you tell me if anyone is likely to be in there, Ma'am?"

  Fear and shock temporarily struck the elderly lady, but a second later she gushed, "Oh yes, yes. A lovely young lady lives there. Yes, yes. She rarely stays out past ten. Oh no, you have to do something. She'll be in bed, help her." The woman grabbed his arm with a shaky hand, "You have to get her out."

  "Thank you, Ma'am. I aim to do just that." Fredrick looked up at the first floor windows to judge the level of risk, "You need to stay well back from here." He addressed everyone else loitering and taking pictures, and shouted at them, "You too, stand well back."

  With a tearful pale face, the lady wrapped her arms around herself and backed away, repeating, "Poor girl, poor, poor girl."

  Fredrick jogged right up to the house, reporting to base, "To all units, G1IC, this is 223 reporting. I have reports confirming there is most likely one woman trapped inside the house, possibly on the first floor."

  He moved around the house, checking for anything which might cause additional problems, and which should be taken care of before an attempt at evacuation. There was nothing to concern him. "Check done. We're going to make entry and perform a rescue. Over."

  Neighbors shouted, "What are you waiting for, man? Get in there," as he went about his business.

  People found it irritating when fire fighters didn't run inside like superheroes, but he understood their sense of urgency.

  Panic and their complete ignorance of safety procedures in place to protect the fire fighter's, those in the fire, and those within a few miles radius of the scene, didn't help.

  They were trained to ignore the crowds and to follow procedures, and that's exactly what Fredrick did every time.

  Drake aimed his hose in through the doorway, having removed the door, and awaited instruction.

  "Go on, and get it going!"

  Without hesitation, Drake held tight to the hose and freed the water, creating a pathway for Fredrick.

  "Work on the fire," said Fredrick. "I'm going to pass you."

  Helmet, mask, and gloves in place Fredrick gulped on a lungful of air and entered the darkened smoke and flame filled building, where anything could happen.

  As he passed Drake, he grinned, loving his job, "Copy that."

  Fredrick left the ground floor and pushed his way up the stairs to the trapped woman beyond the flames.

  His helmet, with its light, speaker, radio and oxygen mask, always made him feel far safer than he really was in these circumstances.

  He didn't hear the roar of the orange mistress all around him, taste her sooty residue on his tongue, or experience her scorching his lungs.

  He was proud of his record as a fire fighter, proud of his crew, and more proud of this job than all the money his father made from casinos.

  But when things went wrong in this job, it was almost unbearable.

  Fredrick moved through the smoke and left the flames to creep up behind him as he climbed higher, respecting the blazing mistress with every considered step.

  There was no place for panic, and he was well known for being calm amidst chaos.

  Once he'd assessed the situation on the first floor with a trained eye, Fredrick stormed from room to room, calling, "Lady, you in here? Lady?"

  From one empty room after another, he ran, hoping she was out for the evening, getting laid, having fun, living.

  Then he came across the master bedroom.

  With flames building behind him, he burst through the door.

  "Lady? Anyone ... you in here?"

  He slammed the door shut behind him, knowing that route was now closed due to the fire chasing him.

  "Yeah, 223 reporting. I'm going to need ladders to the top right window ASAP. Over."

  Crumpled bed sheets told him it had been slept in.

  But where was she now?

  Why wasn't she screaming for help?

  A lack of screams often meant he found a body rather than a survivor, and this made him nervous.

  But he never left a building until he'd made every effort possible to find them, no matter what state he found them in.

  He scoured the corners of the room where most people fled to, thinking they would be somehow safer, "Lady? Anyone?"

  No one replied
, but a white haze moved in one corner, near the dresser.

  He rushed to it and found a petite woman with her head covered with a shirt.

  "Ma'am? Talk to me."

  He part moved the shirt from her face to find her nose, mouth and hair was so blackened with smoke, he could hardly make out her features.

  But she was alive.

  She groaned and writhed on the floor.

  "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now."

  He returned to the window and used his axe to smash it clear.

  His brute strength made the window fly outwards.

  The ladders were waiting for him.

  Admiring her grit, he picked her up and hoisted her tiny frame over his shoulder, "It's all going to be fine, I’ve got you now."

  The flames burned at the bedroom door.

  He had no time to waste.

  He moved swiftly to carry her through the window and down the ladder, to the lawns below.

  There, he laid her on the grass and removed his helmet while the paramedics rushed to her side to do their thing.

  It was then, when his heart stopped hammering and she was safe, when he recognized her.

  He'd only just saved the woman of his dreams—literally. "Clara? Is that you?"

  Clara didn't answer.

  "Clara, that's her name?" asked the paramedic checking her vitals. "You know her well?"

  "Not really." He knew how her red her hair was beneath the smoky residue, how peachy pale her completion had been when flushed with irritation. "Her name is Clara James, though."

  He walked away, leaving Clara safe under the care of the medics.

  He had a job to finish and the last person she would want to see when she woke up was the guy from her disastrous date.

  "223 reporting. The woman is alive, clear of the house and in medical care. The fire is under control. Over."

  On his way to the engine, he smiled to himself, marveling at how manipulative fate could be, or how serendipitous.

  From the clutches of death into his arms?

  Maybe it was fate…

  Chapter 8

  As oxygen cleansed her lungs and the paramedics fussed over her wellbeing, Clara opened her eyes and began to see through the initial blur.

  A murky sky hung above her, the sounds of panicky neighbors and the glaring lights of fire trucks and emergency vehicles disturbed the peace she longed for.

  She shivered, but she felt the grass against her legs and the reassuring smell of it gave her hope that she was indeed saved from the fire.

  Emergency staff lifted her on a stretcher.

  As they wheeled her to the ambulance, she remembered how reassuring and strangely familiar the voice of the fire fighter who saved her had sounded.

  She needed to meet her hero before he was lost forever.

  He saved her life.

  He deserved her thanks at the very least.

  Besides, who didn't need a hero in their lives?

  Sliding the oxygen mask from her face, she croaked at the two men in control of her care, "Where is he?"

  "Who?" asked the larger man on her right, keeping his eyes on route.

  "The guy who got me out?" she said, searching the faces as they passed everyone.

  A stupid thing to do considering she never saw her hero's face.

  She tried to sit up, concentrating on sounds, hoping to pick out his voice, but the medic pushed her down on the stretcher.

  "Leave me alone, where is he?" her chest was sore and it hurt to talk, but she had to find him. "Let me meet him before you take me anywhere."

  "He's doing his job Ma'am, fighting the fire. Lie back. You've had a nasty shock. It was close back there, you need to rest."

  "Exactly, he saved my life. I need to meet him.”

  “Stubborn, this one,” the paramedic mumbled to his partner.

  “At least promise to ask him to come and see me. I must thank him."

  "Getting you to the hospital alive is our job, but I'll see what I can do after that, if you behave," he smiled, helping his partner to hoist her into the ambulance. "Now rest your throat, it's got to be sore, huh? And you'll have a nasty bruise on that cheek of yours."

  "Yeah, sorry," she pulled the oxygen mask over her face and breathed in as deeply as possible before choking.

  The medic was right, it hurt to speak and to breathe, but she didn't regret taking the chance before it was entirely lost.

  Once on board the ambulance, the medic put a line in her arm and injected her with something cold. "This is a little something to help your body relax, okay."

  Clara didn't want to sleep, she did not want to forget him.

  "No, not yet."

  Too late - the icy fluid ran through her veins, "Not till I've spoken to . . ." and blackness carried her away.

  Chapter 9

  Fredrick had ensured his job was taken care of, so he went to find Clara, but he was told the paramedics left to take her to the hospital already.

  Should I go visit her there?

  Wasn't he the last person she would want to see after their dreadful date?

  Either way, he needed to check on her in the aftermath of the fire.

  And who knows, maybe he should try for another date?

  Especially if she has the hot for guys who save her life.

  Yep, she may not be a Champagne girl, but heroes are a different thing altogether.

  As he packed away his equipment, a radio message came in for him. "You Fredrick? This is Dave, the medic from the house fire."

  "Sure," a weird feeling gripped his stomach. "Um, what's up?"

  "The patient, a Miss. Clara James wishes to meet her rescuer and thank you personally. It was you, right?"

  "Yeah, it was me." A grin ate up Fredrick's face. "How is she, where's she at?"

  "We gave her saline, sedated her and took her to St Michaels. She's not doing too badly though thanks to you; a little sore but she'll recover."

  "So she won't be there long?"

  "She'll be signed out tomorrow if there are no complications. No idea where she's off to though, what with her house being burned to the ground and all. Any clues as to how the fire started?"

  "No, not yet. The investigators are poking around."

  "Could be electrics, the house was old. Could be a candle. She looks like the scented candle type."

  "You might be right." Wait? This is Clara James. "Actually, no. She's way too smart to leave one burning."

  "So, you know her well, then?"

  "No… Yes." Fredrick was too tired to explain. "It's a long story. Listen, thanks for letting me know. I'll head up there after my shift."

  "Be lucky," said Dave before hanging up.

  Fredrick's grin, still very much in place, caught the attention of Drake. "Hey, what's got you all worked up?"

  "Oh, nothing interesting. I could really do with leaving straight after my shift this time, though. Will you write this one up?" Fredrick usually did the paperwork, so this was a strange request for him.

  "Sure, what gives?" Drake smirked and raised one eyebrow. "Who is she? Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

  "Let's just say, I'm a born again believer in second chances and today, I may have landed one."

  "Second chance at what?" He waited a moment for a reply, but impatiently prodded. "Hey, come on big man--share. I want to smile like that."

  "Oh," Fredrick shrugged, feeling smug, and it was nothing to shrug about, "a second chance to impress a remarkable woman. That's all."

  "Hey, awesome news dude." Drake slapped him on his back, "Is she a keeper though, or just another hook-up? I only ask coz you do love your hook-ups."

  "Nah, she's no-one’s hook-up."

  "Now that is good news. There comes a time for every man to settle down." Drake looked off into infinity, "Marrying my Sheena was the best move I ever made."

  "Yeah, so I hear." Sheena and Drake made a great couple. "Who wouldn't settle for Sheena?"

  "Hey," Drake play-pun
ched Fredrick in the arm, climbing into the truck. "So, this lady you're off to see - what's so special about her?"

  Fredrick thought about Clara, what could he say?

  How could he sum her up?

  He couldn't.

  "If you ever get to meet her, you'll see."

  "What're you waiting for then? Get going. I'll catch you next week, yeah. I'm going to want details."

  Fredrick called a cab and went straight to the hospital.

  On the way, he called a contractor to recover any intact belongings from her house as soon as the investigation was complete, and to store them until she found somewhere else to live, or until her house could be restored.

  As he pulled up outside the hospital, he realized he was still wearing his uniform and reeked of smoke again.

  Shit.

  Will she ever see me clean?

  Chapter 10

  Clara slept for a few hours and when she woke in hospital, she tried to remember the details of the night before.

  Had she been negligent in some way, and caused the fire, which almost killed her?

  She was always so careful?

  How many of her prized possessions had she lost--her photos, CD's, jewelry, and a letter of apology from her father sent from prison.

  The door opposite her bed led to the ladies room and she could really do with freshening up.

  The smell of smoke in her hair made her nauseous and she longed to go back for the long soak in the tub she enjoyed the night before.

  Of course, she couldn't, not any more.

  A flood of tears stung her cheeks and the rims of her eyes, and she buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

  All lost forever.

  How did this awful thing happen?

  She remembered the death threats she received from the loan sharks last time she tried to push for a prosecution on behalf of one of their victims.

  But that was a few weeks ago?

  A honeyed voice said, "Hey now. You've just woken up, I'm guessing?"

  Clara instantly recognized the luscious voice.

  It was the voice of her hero but also the voice of her tragic blind date.