by Jade Winters
Lost In You
by
Jade Winters
Lost In You
by Jade Winters
Published by Wicked Winters Books
Copyright © 2017 Jade Winters
www.jade-winters.com
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue
Coming Soon
BOOK LIST
About The Author
Chapter One
Heidi sat deep in thought as the rain pelted against the windowpane of her sparsely-furnished office at the Young Minds Centre in Kentish Town. She was tired. Worn down by her lack of progress. Despite her tremendous effort in arranging fundraising events, donations were down again for the seventh month running. To her dismay, the public seemed to think that now being gay was ‘tolerated’, there was no longer the need to give money to organisations such as the one Heidi had managed for the past five years. But they couldn’t have been more wrong. The teenagers that passed through the centre’s doors each day were still vulnerable and looking for their place in the world. The social stigma of being a minority was a cause of anxiety and depression in itself. It was because of the services that places like Young Minds offered that troubled teenagers had the support to guide them through some of the darkest periods of their lives. It gave them hope.
It was an honour for Heidi to have been part of something that was so beneficial to so many people, which made her decision that much harder. On the computer screen in front of her was an online application form for a vacancy at Citizens Advice. She was applying for a debt advisor role, which seemed ironic considering the amount of debt she was in herself.
Fingers poised above the keyboard, Heidi began typing and hastily entered her name, address and age. Who’d have thought I’d be in this position at twenty-nine? The younger Heidi had dreams and aspirations of owning her own home by the time she reached thirty, finally ready to settle down after travelling the world. Sadly, she’d achieved neither.
In which time frame do I plan to change jobs? Heidi paused. Hmm, let me see … before I lose my home, perhaps?
Resigned to the fact that leaving the centre was something that she had, no, needed to do, Heidi flew through the rest of the questions on the form. Once finished, she gave her answers a quick once over and hit the send button before she second-guessed herself.
A message box popped up announcing the successful transmission of the application.
Guilt crept into her mind but she pushed the thoughts aside swiftly. How could it be a bad thing for her to look for greener pastures so that she could keep a roof over her head?
The simple fact was that in the past year she had downsized in all areas of her life to keep debt at bay. She sold her car and bought a smaller one so she could cut back on fuel consumption. Meals out and takeaways were a no-no. All of the food she ate was cooked from scratch, the fruit and vegetables bought from the market. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a haircut. Yet at the end of each month, a week after payday, she was back into her overdraft again. It was a never-ending dilemma.
The silence in the room was broken by the shrill sound of the phone ringing, jolting her from her ponderings. Heidi reached for the off-white device.
‘YM,’ she answered, abbreviating the name of the centre.
‘Ms Cross?’ a woman’s voice asked.
‘Speaking. How can I help you?’
‘Hi there. This is Priscilla Jones, reporter from Channel Five News.’
What could a journalist want with me?
Before Heidi could hazard a guess, Priscilla continued, ‘I’m calling to get your thoughts on the news. It must have been quite a shock for you.’
‘And what news would that be?’ Heidi asked, thinking she must be referring to another celebrity coming out of the closet. If that was the case, she had no comment at all.
‘The announcement from Berkley O’Neil,’ Priscilla informed her.
‘Who the hell is he?’
‘Who?’ Priscilla asked.
Heidi furrowed her brows together and let out an exasperated breath, ‘This man, Berkley, who—’
‘Sorry, it’s not a man, I’m referring to Berkley, O’Neil and Associates.’ Priscilla paused for Heidi’s reaction, but when she gave none Priscilla continued, ‘The property developers?’
‘I’ve never heard of them,’ Heidi muttered.
‘I’m surprised. I thought someone like you would know exactly who they are.’
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Like me? ‘So what’s this big announcement you’re going on about?’
‘They’ve just bought your building—’
‘They’ve done what? How—’
‘It’s what companies like that do. I suggest you look them up. In the meantime, can you tell me what this means for the charity? Will you have to close down?’
Close the centre down? Heidi’s stomach churned over at the dire words, thinking of her colleagues losing their jobs, clients having nowhere to find solace. She looked out of the window up towards the clouds and wished she could somehow climb onto one and escape somewhere far, far away.
There were a few moments of silence before she spoke again. ‘I know you’re probably up against a deadline for your story, Priscilla, but I need time to speak to my staff before I make an official comment.’
‘I’ll be waiting for your call.’
Heidi dropped the receiver on its cradle. Howard would have told us if he was selling up … Wouldn’t he? Feeling horribly shaky, Heidi googled ‘berkley o’neil property developers’. From what she could see on their homepage, the company developed luxury apartments for more money than she would earn in a lifetime. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she scanned the page looking for an announcement of their latest purchase. Nothing. Heidi didn’t know what to think. Priscilla’s got to be winding me up. She gave a cynical laugh. And to think I really believed her.
For no reason other than curiosity, Heidi clicked on the ‘About Us’ tab. Craig O’Neil, CEO. The photographer had captured a dark air of authority about him. Erect shoulders. A strong, forbidding jawline. The slight tilt of his chin gave the impression he was looking down on y
ou. The look in his eyes was hard, callous even. Someone who didn’t care who he trampled on to get his own way. Heidi knew she could be totally misjudging him, but for some reason she doubted it. The eyes are the window to the soul, after all.
Beneath his picture was … Vanessa O’Neil. Heidi’s mouth gaped open as the realisation of who she was dawned on her. The woman’s face was forever in gay magazines and newspapers. Sleek and polished with long, thick, glossy hair falling in waves to her shoulders, framing her face which was both strong and beautiful. A smile curved her sensuous lips bringing warmth to her eyes that transfixed Heidi. And a lot of other women too, if her reputation was anything to go by. Vanessa was always photographed with a beautiful woman on her arm, but there had never been any mention of who she was actually dating. Maybe she’s like me and uses her job as the perfect cover for a shambolic love life. In Heidi’s not-so-extensive experience, finding a woman who was up for a bit of fun between the sheets was the easy part. It was forming a genuine connection outside of the bedroom that proved to be an uphill battle.
Heidi wasn’t fussy by nature, on the contrary, the qualities she sought in a partner weren’t outlandish in anyway. They were unassuming ones; compassionate, honest, warm, loving. Someone who could make her stomach flutter with butterflies with a simple glance. Someone like Vanessa. It was almost as if Heidi had somehow managed to conjure Vanessa O’Neil up out of her fantasies and made her a reality.
Heidi tutted, reigning herself in. The last thing she needed was to get hung up on a stranger on the internet, who the chances of meeting were zero to none.
Women like Vanessa—classy, rich, and sexy as hell—were well out of her league. Not only that, but Heidi wouldn’t know how or where to meet such a woman. Just because they’d possibly bought the building didn’t mean she’d show up at the centre, and it wasn’t as if there was any chance of her bumping into Vanessa in the freezer aisle at her local Tesco.
With a slight shake of her head, Heidi forced the unattainable dream from her mind and turned her attention to the mounting paperwork piled on her desk. It needed to be tackled before it got much higher, but not until she took a quick peep at the property developer’s Twitter page. If they were going to announce anything big, surely it would be on there. And if it wasn’t? Then Priscilla Jones had played a cruel prank on her.
As the page loaded, goose pimples travelled the length of her arms and a twisting sensation in her stomach tightened like a snake around its prey, as she realised the reporter was spot on. Disbelief, shock and anger intermingled as her brain struggled to comprehend the words staring back at her.
Property acquired in Kentish Town. #Luxuryapartments.
Ten minutes earlier, Heidi would never have thought a two-word hashtag would be capable of stopping her world from spinning. Any form of hope seeped out of her completely as she dropped her face into her hands. How can this be happening?
Following the death of the previous landlord, Heidi assumed things would continue as normal, especially after the unexpected visit from his son, Howard. Now she realised what a naïve fool she’d been as she connected the dots.
Stupidly, she hadn’t given Howard’s surprise visit another thought. Nor had she suspected that something was going on—not even when his companion; a smug-faced woman, decked out in a black business suit, showed overzealous interest in the building. If she had thought for a second that Howard had been plotting the charity’s demise right there in front of her, she would have … Heidi snorted. I would have what? Begged, pleaded, grovelled? Yes, to all of the above, especially if it prevented the inevitable.
Lost in her private reverie, Heidi jumped involuntarily as the door to her office burst open. The petite figure of a breathless Christina appeared at the entrance. At eighteen, she was one of the centre’s youngest serving volunteers.
‘Whoa, where’s the fire?’
‘Heidi, have you heard?’ Christina didn’t wait to be invited in. She crossed the room, tossing her shock of dark curly hair over her shoulder, and sagged down onto the chair opposite Heidi. A look of understanding was evident in her expressive blue eyes. ‘You already know?’
Heidi gave a solemn nod.
‘This place is going to be knocked down to erect a block of fucking flats.’
Christina was small in stature but her anger knew no bounds when confronted with injustice.
‘Not just any old flats, Chris, luxury flats,’ Heidi quipped, attempting to inject a little humour into the dire situation.
‘I couldn’t give a toss what they are. And do you know who runs the company? Vanessa O’Neil. A bloody lesbian! Turning her back on her own kind.’
The irony of it wasn’t lost on Heidi. ‘I didn’t even realise she was a property developer. The last I heard she was some hot shot art dealer.’
Christina’s shoulders slumped. Her eyes now brimmed with tears. ‘They can’t just evict us can they?’
‘I’m going to have to look at the terms of the lease in detail, but from what I remember there is a break clause.’
‘Which means?’
‘Which means if the landlord decides to sell he can give us notice to leave.’
‘You have to think of some way around it.’ Christina looked pleadingly at her. ‘Anything. We’re all depending on you.’
The last thing Heidi needed was Christina laying the huge responsibility of saving the centre on her shoulders, especially in the midst of her own soon-to-be-homeless drama. A small groan escaped her lips. Yes, in the past, Heidi had taken on the opposition and won, but they were nerdy civil servants giving her a hard time over her request for bigger recycling bins. Civil servants were not in the same league as property developers—rich property developers with extremely deep pockets at that.
In life there were winners and losers, and Heidi knew that Young Minds were going to be the latter. Instead of saying this aloud, Heidi slumped back in her seat. Even though, touch wood, she might not be the manager for much longer, it pained her greatly to think of the centre closing. She wanted it to thrive. To have new life breathed into it for the next generations of gay teenagers.
This last thought made something inside her stir with indignation. What the hell am I thinking? Me, abandon a sinking ship when I’m needed most. Never! So what if I’m made homeless before I get another job? If I can save the centre, I’ll always have my office to sleep in.
Heidi needed to pull on her big-girl pants and put aside her own personal needs until the centre was safe. She would do whatever she had to in order to achieve her goal. Local councillors had always applauded the charity for the outstanding service they provided and with this knowledge in her armoury, Heidi concluded she needed a plan of attack to outsmart the developers. Kick up a public storm. Get local people behind them. And she knew exactly how to do that.
Adrenaline seeped into her veins as she rose from her chair. ‘Christina, contact the local newspapers and TV stations. I’m going to give a press conference.’
Not only did Christina’s face light up, but so did Heidi’s heart.
‘A press conference!’ Christina clasped her hands in excitement. ‘When and where? Do you want me to arrange it for Thursday?’
Heidi shook her head so ferociously that her hair whipped across her cheeks. ‘Thursday will be too late. It has to be tomorrow. At ten. We’ll meet the media in front of the building, so our banners can be seen on camera.’
Heidi would fight this eviction to the bitter end because she was proud of what the charity stood for and, more than that, it was her job.
Chapter Two
Vanessa sat behind her desk on the 12th floor of Berkley, O’Neil and Associates in central London. The company’s long serving chief architect, Brett Jenkins, sat opposite and their attention was focused on a large sheet plan. The mild rumble of thunder outside resembled a drum beat, running from one side of the room to the other, but soon came another sort of thunder—her brother, Craig.
He burst through her office
door without so much as a knock, because, as Vanessa knew, Craig had never met courtesy or its distant cousin, consideration. With his blue suit jacket flapping in flight, he all but shouted, ‘Vanessa.’
Vanessa looked up from the plan. ‘Craig, you can see I’m busy. I’ll come to your office when I’m done.’
Craig ignored her. ‘Brett, out. Now. Vanessa, this is urgent.’ Craig made for the flat screen TV in her makeshift waiting area. He threw himself over the sofa, sidestepped the coffee table and grabbed the TV remote.
Vanessa rose from her seat and said through gritted teeth, ‘What the hell are you doing? Do you really think I’ve got time to watch TV?’
After their father suffered a heart attack and could no longer work, Craig had appointed himself patriarch of the family. This meant he thought he could still pull rank over her, like when they were kids. Even adulthood didn’t absolve her from Craig punishing, no, bullying her. He ignored the fact that she was a grown woman of thirty and still treated her as if she was a little brat under his trampling feet.
Brett stood and moved towards the door. ‘I’ll catch up with you later, Vanessa.’
Vanessa gave him an apologetic glance. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Yes you will.’ The TV screen filled with a news segment showing a group of protesters outside a residential building. ‘Sit,’ he ordered.
Vanessa dropped back into her chair as the energy sapped from her and wearily said, ‘What’s this about, Craig?’
‘Remember that building we bought in Kentish Town?’
‘The red brick mews?’
‘No, no, no. That property next to the park.’
‘The three-story with the garden?’ she asked, remembering the proposals for a building he’d shoved under her nose while she was driving.
‘Yeah that one. Now get this. The owner …. No, not owner, the manager of the charity housed there has a bone to pick with us about it.’ He slapped his thigh in delight. ‘Fancies herself a hero of the people or something. I’ll show her—’