by Theresa Papa
Table of Contents
Dedication
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
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
THE POPE FAMILY TRILOGY CONTINUES…
Note from the Author
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Immoral Obsession
A Brush With
OBSESSION
Book 1
Of
The Pope Family Trilogy
THERESA PAPA
A BRUSH WITH OBSESSION
Copyright © 2017 by T. PAPA All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, businesses or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. This book contains sexual content, dark themes, and violence of a sexual and physical nature that could trigger emotional distress in readers.
It is intended for adult readers ages 18 years or older.
ISBN-13: 978-1-7333091-1-0 (Ebook)
ISBN-13: 978-1-7333091-0-3 (Paperback)
Library of Congress Control Number:2019910820
Editor: Chelsea Kuhel - https://www.madisonseidler.com/
Proofreader: Jenny Sims - http://www.editing4indies.com/
Cover Design: Shannon - https://www.shanoffdesigns.com/
Photographer: Andrew Dickerson - https://dickerson.photography
Cover Model: Jaclyn Papa
Interior Book Design: Bob Houston eBook Formatting
Dedication
Dedicated to my husband who has always cheered me on in whatever I do with faith, love, and support.
Chapter 1
Samantha Marconi
“Slow down! Stop!”
When he ignores my pleas, I pummel him with my fists while my protests pierce his eardrums.
My condo building located right on Sheridan Road is one of the few buildings on Lake Michigan with a private beach. Living on the lake lends to the urban, casual, and energetic feel that my friends and I enjoy especially during the summer months. We tend to gravitate toward it for many of our activities; ultimate Frisbee on the beach, lunch at the pier, boating, and what has me scared out of my mind right now. Picking me up at the beach for a ride on his Jet Ski around the lake was such an original idea, and that was why I allowed this guy a second date. Big mistake.
Five minutes ago, this was fun. Nothing is more magnificent than the Chicago skyline from the water out on Lake Michigan. The skyscrapers and the beaches along the shoreline flying past as the warm August wind blows my hair back.
The jagged, stacked rocks of the shoreline break wall are coming up fast. My arms and legs are going numb from my vise-like grip. Why won’t he slow down? The idiot is heading toward the rocks at full speed. Is he joking? Does he have a death wish?
I bury my face in his back and lock my arms around his waist just as he steers away from it. The watercraft just marginally avoids the rocks, sending a spray of water into the air. His whole torso shakes from laughter when we finally come to a stop at the edge of my beach. This infuriates me even further as I jump off to swirl around on him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? We could have been killed!”
He throws his leg over and steps off the craft with a wide-eyed expression at my outburst. “Samantha, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little? I was just showing off to try to impress you.”
I storm out of the water, throwing my life vest at him with all my might. My whole body shakes as I pack my bag on the beach. I see him walking up the beach in my peripheral vision with his arms perpendicular to his sides, palms facing out.
“Come on, Sam! I was in control the whole time. Nothing was going to happen to you.”
He believes his perfectly sculpted six-pack and handsome good looks are going to melt me back into submission. I zip up my bag and glare at him, then head up to the back entrance of my condo building and use my key to open the security door.
“Are you really going to act like a child and ignore me?” he calls up from the beach.
I put my bag tight up on my shoulder and turn around to face him while holding the door open with my foot.
“My best friend’s parents died in a boating accident. They slammed into the break wall. That is why I’m a little more sensitive in this situation,” I calmly explain. “That being said, I—”
“Okay, I’m sorry I scared you. But do you have to be such a bitch about it?” he interrupts, still gesturing. Thank goodness, he’s out of reach because what he just said warrants a slap across his smartass mouth.
“Your behavior was reckless, immature, and with no regard for my well-being or my feelings, which tells me you are not the type of guy I want to date. And that last comment has just put the final nail in your coffin! Goodbye.” I move my foot, letting the door slam loudly behind me.
I lean up against the door to catch my breath. Why is it so difficult to meet the caring, attentive, and genuine man that I want in life? I refuse to settle for someone who has no respect at all.
And as if to punctuate my last thought, the loud motor of the wave runner speeding away gets fainter as it gains distance.
Chapter 2
Samantha Marconi
I throw myself on the bed among the clothes strewn everywhere and let out an ea
rsplitting scream. Thankfully, I’m face down, so all the fabric has muffled the volume and my neighbors won’t think I’m being brutally murdered. I would be embarrassed if one of them ran over to investigate. The explanation of my temporary bout of insanity over such an inane problem would be difficult. I can’t figure out what to wear.
Of course, life in the city of Chicago can be risky at times. The murder rate nearly doubled between 2014 and 2016, so I don’t doubt that they could believe the worst if they heard me. But then again, I live in a rather safe four-story building. The people here all get along well and, in turn, look out for one another. With a lift of my head, I listen to the possibility of anyone at either of my doors. Within moments, a pounding knock sounds on the front door.
My best friend, Jen, appears wearing a WTF look on her face as I crack open the door.
Jennifer Chambers and I were students when we met. I’ve known her ever since my parents helped me buy my swanky little two-bedroom, one-bath garden-level condo that was in foreclosure three years ago. The day after I moved in while I soaked up the sun by the water, Jen approached me for the first time. As she walked toward me, all I could consider was how jealous I was of her in the skimpy bikini she wore. Her light colored hair is shiny and healthy looking, as are her large olive shaped brown eyes. And her body would rival that of any Playboy model.
“Samantha Marie Marconi, are you all right? I heard a scream. What the fuck is going on? I thought you’d be ready by now.”
“What are you, my mother? Scolding me using my full name?”
Shortly after we met, I realized that this girl is just as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. Her vulnerability made you want to take care of her even though she portrayed a tough street wise exterior. She has a foul mouth when we’re not in mixed company, but she is the first one there to help when I’m sick or my parents need help. All those delightful attributes are still what Jennifer is all about today except for the underlying sadness in her eyes. That is an unfortunate result of her parents' unexpected accident and subsequent deaths. But right now, her eyes are bugging out at me, waiting for an answer.
“It was a stupid frustrated scream. That’s all.” She closes the door and follows me back into the bedroom. “Damn my woeful, drab wardrobe and my curvy body. My whole wardrobe is businesslike, not trendy and cool. I want to look hot for the beauty show.” I sit on the bed and take a deep breath, blowing it out through pursed lips.
“Hey bitch! You look gorgeous in anything you wear. C’mon, let’s primp. Teach me some of that shit you learned in your dad’s salon,” she encourages as she plops me in the chair at my makeup table.
“When Mom was a makeup artist, she taught me between clients. It really is a simple concept to just remember when shading that lighter color makes features stand out and darker colors make them recede. So cleverly working with my two colors of foundation, I highlight the tip of my nose with the lighter and use the shade darker on the sides, and magically, the perception is a thinner nose. Then before using my mascara, I wipe the tip with a tissue to remove any clumps on the brush that can transfer to my lashes. This trick gives my lashes a more natural long, feathery look,” I teach her as I apply it to bring out my brown eyes.
She tries the foundation trick behind me in the mirror.
“What did you do at the salon?” she asks.
“Early on, I used to love to sweep the floors when I was three or four years old. I always had so much fun with all the people who worked for him. It made me feel special when the manicurists painted my nails. Then as I got older, I learned almost every job. I ordered supplies, worked the front desk, and even did payroll.”
I turn and survey my dark brown wavy tresses falling down my back and secretly curse the fact that time and money constraints have kept me from a good haircut way too long. I wish my busy schedule wasn’t keeping me from visiting home for my dad to cut it, but I refuse to waste money on a hair stylist I don’t know or trust.
“What I wear can’t be boring.” Looking down, I brush my royal blue top with my hand, and I take it as a sign that it must be the one.
“That’s my favorite top on you.” Glancing at the clock, I roll my eyes at my reflection and slip the top over my skinny jeans.
“Hey, whatever happened with that guy you were supposed to go out on the lake with?” Jen asks as she holds my necklace up to her neck while gazing in the mirror.
“Mr. Second Date gets points for a firm, muscular body, to which I was holding onto for dear life. Thank goodness, the water wasn’t choppy today since I chose to ride behind Evel Knievel. Maneuvering through rough waters or over waves from another craft would’ve probably propelled me up into the air like being shot out of a cannon. So much for that guy considering my safety. Then after I called him out on it, he called me a bitch! I gave him the boot. Asshole.”
“That was a morning you could have fucking done without. What a waste of time.”
“I know, right? On my twenty-fourth birthday, I told myself, ‘Samantha, if there’s no chemistry with a man on the first date, you don’t have the time to waste.’ And it’s true. With my work and school schedule, it forces me to be extremely organized to keep my grades up and have a social life during the school year. This being my final year of law school, maybe I need to give up on finding a man in the interest of saving time.”
“Come on, bitch, you don’t mean that … We all need relationships whether it be for romance, companionship, or even just hot fucking sex,” Jen says as she waggles her eyebrows. In the past, Jen would pull away with no explanation and immerse herself in destructive behavior with dangerous people. She’s alluded to the fact that she has been in sexually disturbing scenarios with men. I, on the other hand, am not as brave or accepting of those sexual situations. Maybe because the opportunity has never come up.
“It’s been a long time since … you know. Jason and I were in a relationship for two years, and the sex was boring. I’d rather be without it. That’s probably why we both agreed to part when we graduated. We were comfortable together, but we lacked the chemistry needed for a long-term relationship and marriage. It was just easier to stay with him instead of trying to date while attending a university that was 63.7% female.”
“Let me get this straight. Sex is not as important to you as saving time?” A bark of laughter escapes her throat. “Are you nuts? Girl.”
I nod my head. “I’m serious. I even want to find a part-time job within walking distance from my school and my internship just in the interest of saving time. If I manage to find one, I’ll be a full-time student with two part-time jobs. Consequently, dating will be even more selective, especially to satisfy my list for the perfect guy, a very important detail,” I reply as I apply my perfume and grab my shoes from the closet.
“Oh, please! Keeping to that list will make you a fucking old maid or the lady with ten cats for companionship,” Jen jokes.
“I am realistic, though, because I’ve learned that looks are not the most important attribute for the perfect guy.” She gives me a doubtful look. “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate a buff, tall, dark, and handsome man just as much as any other red-blooded girl, but if there’s no integrity or respect for me personally, they could be model gorgeous and still turn me off. I seek the man who can’t live without me and goes out of his way to show me I’m special to him. Not with gifts or jewelry, but with time, thoughtfulness, protection, and even adoration. A man who is secure enough to openly adore his woman through his actions and body language is very sexy. Don’t you agree?”
“I do. But if a man like that exists, I sure as fuck haven’t met him.”
“When I do find him someday, I will adore him right back and do everything in my power to make him happy.”
“Sounds wonderful. All I ever get are assholes, so when you find him, let me know if he has a brother.”
We both giggle as I gather my bag, keys, and do a spin in front of Jennifer.
&n
bsp; “You look gorgeous!” Jen says with a smile and a hug. Leave it to my best friend to make me feel confident.
“Thanks, Jen.”
We head out into the front hallway of our building, and I lock my door.
I smile back as she reaches for the outer door handle. A burst of humid air wafts over us.
“I’ll drive,” I say.
“Okay, you got the tickets?” she asks.
“Yup.”
Chapter 3
Samantha Marconi
“The America’s Beauty Show, as it’s called now, is always held at McCormick Place. But it used to be called the Midwest Beauty Show. My dad always went when he had his salon. My parents had their first date there,” I explain.
“Why would he take your mom there on a first date?”
“It was actually her idea,” I say with a grin as I recall the story my mom told me.
“What? Why?” Jen’s eyebrows are raised and her lips are twisted as she questions me. “You have to tell me this story. Love stories are my favorite; it makes me feel like there’s hope in this fucking world.”
I chuckle as I put on my turn signal to proceed to Lake Shore Drive.
“My parents actually met in a dance club. But when it came time for my father to ask her out, she said no because she was in a three-year relationship with another guy. On their first date, she was actually cheating on her current boyfriend,” I explain.
“Thank God she took the risk. They’ve been together at least thirty years. Right?”
Jen turns her body in the seat toward me before I continue.
“Right, but what she had to do to correct her first mistake of turning him down is funny. The realization hit her that she couldn’t stay with the guy she was with when her attraction to my dad was so intense. My mom came up with a plan that meant she wouldn’t actually be asking my dad out but that they could meet at the Midwest Beauty Show. Of course, my dad would be going since it was his business. She convinced one of her friends to go with her to the dance club the night before the beauty show. Her friend wasn’t agreeable at all. In the end, the friend rode there in her pajamas and waited in the car.”