The Complete Bad Boy Series (5 in 1): Best Billionaire Romance Collection (Bad Boy Billionaire Stepbrother Romance Paranormal Series)

by Wallace, Brenda

  It had all come to ahead one night when Laura had found an article based in their very apartment and had to share it with her mother, found it so intriguing that she couldn’t just let it slide.

  “Mom, look at this! Check this out!” she had screamed, running into their dining room. Her mother had glanced up from the paper.

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “It’s just a brief blurb, I’ll have to head back to the library to look more into it, and I know you hate my reading this material, but it really is so so interesting! Check it out!” and she had shoved the short article in her mother’s face. Her mother had scanned it quickly, and then her face grew pale, her eyes darting from the text back to Laura.

  “You will not read of this ever again, do you hear me?” she hissed, crumbling up the article.

  “But mom! A little girl died! Here! Right outside our very house! A young girl about my age. Don’t you find that fascinating? Don’t you want to know more? Don’t you-“

  “I won’t hear any more of it. This habit serves no purpose. It’s twisted,” her mother had said, shooting her down.

  And thus, the next day, the movers had been there, moving them into an even more stunning, older and intriguing house. It was as if her mother were testing her, daring her to give into her love of research of the dead. Challenge accepted.

  Now, she flopped down on her bed, staring at the long cracks in her ceiling; cracks that looked like the walls were trying to whisper to her their secrets. There was a soft pitter-patter at the door and her mother came trailing in, sitting beside her on the bed.

  “Are you liking your new room?” her mother asked bravely, nervous and well aware of the fact that this question could easily send Laura into a fit of anger or tears, depending on her mood. She exhaled gratefully when Laura continued to stare at the ceiling, smiling a bit.

  “Yeah, it should be fine,” she said finally. Her mother nodded.

  “Yes, of course it will be, sweetheart. Just know your father and I are doing this for you. This is a chance for you to begin again; to make good and better decisions, out here in the country where no one knows anything about you.”

  “You hate who I am,” Laura said as if it were fact. She liked to challenge her mother at times like these, forcing her to tell her how much she loved her, manipulating her to do so. Her mother took in a sharp breath.

  “How can you say that? I love you dearly,” she said as she leaned over and ran a hand on Laura’s soft, pale cheek. Laura turned her back away.

  “Can we go to the library tomorrow? Begin some of my classes there?”

  “Let’s begin classes here and get settled in. Then, once things start going well, as I am sure they will, we can venture out.”

  “So, I’m locked up in this freaking place?” Laura shot out, her voice tired and exhausted. Her mother held her hand.

  “I wouldn’t say ‘locked up’, I would just say we’re trying to settle ourselves first.”

  “You two are the most overprotective people I have ever met in my entire life,” she mumbled. Her mother sighed again.

  “We just want to protect you, and want the best for you…always,” she leaned over, kissing her on the forehead.

  Laura knew in that moment that she would have to sneak out at some point in search of their local library. Her palms began to sweat and her heart raced in anticipation of discovering all the secrets her house held. She squeezed her mother’s hand back and her mother left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  Chapter Two: Stranger at My Door

  A few days and nights came and went and after her studies, she would explore the house. Their dining room had a large wall that was filled with stain glass, and Laura would spend hours coming up with stories about it in her mind. There was a picture of a mother holding a child, waves behind her, and another of four other children running in the fields.

  “Damn thing is creepy,” her father mumbled as he passed her one evening.

  “I think it’s beautiful,” she said and he had huffed, walking away.

  Their home had long stairwells and secret passages, winding hallways and these aspects begged to be photographed. Laura found her father’s old camera, dusted it off, and would spend her nights photographing the ins and outs of their home.

  “Mom, could I set up a black room in the house to develop my own pictures?” she had asked one night over dinner.

  “I think that’s a great idea,” her father had said.

  “Maybe we could even bring a photography class into our home schooling program,” her mother suggested, and Laura’s blue eyes had lit up, truly happy for the first time since moving there. Maybe her parents were opening up a bit.

  “Great idea, honey. And we could encourage some creative writing prompts to accompany the pictures!” her said added, excited. There weren’t many things that excited her father, a tall, dark and quiet type, and this made her feel elated. She hadn’t seen her parents so proud and happy with her in years, and she felt her heart warming, feeling as if she had a small success in this house already. She was proud of herself, something she hadn’t felt for a few years.

  “Yes, I would love that!” she encouraged, ecstatic.

  “Nothing morbid though,” her mother chimed in. Her father rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, Beatrice, let her write about what she wants. Isn’t it enough that we home school her?” he asked and Laura smiled brightly, feeling like her father understood her, even if just for a moment. Her mother’s shoulders shrunk and she shrugged.

  “I suppose as long as it’s in a creative sense, then that should be fine.”

  “The dark room is going to have to be in the basement though,” her father said and Laura froze.

  “That basement is scary,” Laura said sheepishly, looking down at her plate of food, occupying herself with moving her peas and carrots around on her plate with her fork.

  “Oh honey, you love that stuff,” her father pointed out and Laura agreed, figuring she was being absurd and ridiculous.

  So began Laura’s newest and most intriguing talent; she would spend days and nights capturing their home in all its nuances and behaviors, waiting for the perfect ray of sunshine to sparkle in or finding new crevasses and hiding spots. She would then allow her mind to wander and in her journal, write for hours, developing stories based on the pictures she had taken and developed herself, her hands and mind a piece of artwork themselves.

  She ignored the doorbells, the neighbors who came over to drop off meals and who sat with her parents for coffee. Her parents never invited her down anyways and this was something she was not only fine with, but content with. She hated small talk and would rather spend her time enchanted in her new home and the exploration of it.

  Often she wondered why none of the neighborhood students had stopped by to introduce themselves, but she didn’t pay it too much mind. It had only been a few weeks since they had moved in, and she figured she or they would get around to it shortly.

  She sat in the basement one night, pumping out her rock and roll on the radio, dancing as she worked in her dark room, excited about the new roll of film that was developing in front of her, like watching a secret becoming exposed right in front of your very eyes.

  Suddenly, she heard what she thought was a knock at the back door of the basement. She turned down her music, twirling quickly on her feet, her long black skirt encircling her energy and body. She waited a few more pauses, and then heard the knock again. She glanced at the clock; it was midnight, and she felt her heart tighten, scared for a moment. She moved closer to the door.

  “Hello?” she said through it. She paused, waiting for an answer, unsure if the person on the other side could even hear her. She looked down at her pale arms, blue veins pulsating through her snow white skin. She waited, anticipating and hoping for an answer.

  “Hey,” she heard a deep male voice. Her heart pounded excited for human interaction, a conversation with someone that was outside the
four walls of her home.

  “Hi,” she said again.

  “I just wanted to come by and say hello, introduce myself to the new family in town.” She smiled behind the door.

  “Any reason you’re doing this at midnight? And at our back door?”

  “Any reason you’re making me talk through the door?” the voice questioned and she laughed.

  “Well, like I said, it’s midnight.”

  “Well, I didn’t very well think that I could come to the front door at midnight. I saw the light on down here and figured I might as well come say hello.” Laura unlocked the door and turned it slowly, opening it, revealing the young man standing in the doorway. She felt her breath stick in her throat as she glanced up at the startling handsome boy standing in front of her, one arm draped around the door frame, holding him up, his bright green eyes startling her, peering at her under the light they had above the door.

  “Hi,” she whispered hoarsely. He smiled, revealing startling white teeth and two dimples. She smiled back, revealing her own innocent and pure smile.

  “Hey. I’m Ian,” he said extending a hand. She shook it. It was cold to the touch and made hers shiver.

  “Hi Ian, I’m Laura,” she said. She opened the door a bit, allowing him into the basement. He moved past her swiftly and slowly, coming inside.

  “Nice little thing you got going here,” he said as he observed her basement.

  “I was working in my black room,” she said and he nodded.

  “That’s awesome,” he encouraged, sitting down on an old chair they had been storing in the basement. She sat next to him, occupying a similar chair.

  “So, you’re a neighbor?” she asked and he nodded.

  “Yup, I live in the house across the street with my parents. I’m an only child too. Where are you from originally? How old are you?”

  “How did you know I’m an only child?” she asked, curious. He laughed.

  “Because only children have a certain look to them.” She laughed alongside him, agreeing.

  “True. We lived in New York. I’m 17.”

  “New York? That’s so cool. I actually lived there briefly too and I’m 17. Looks like we’ll have to be friends, then,” he said as he smiled. His eyes were an ice cold green and pierced through her, felt him resonate and stir something within her soul and she shuddered, excited.

  They talked to the wee hours of the morning, Ian telling Laura all about their town and drawing her a map of where the library was. He even offered to walk with her there the following night, and she had agreed enthusiastically. She had confided in him her interest in ghosts and he had seemed intrigued as well.

  “You don’t think it’s weird? Or dumb?” she asked, looking at her long fingers, embarrassed to be exposing herself to someone who just a few hours ago had been a stranger.

  “No, not at all. Ghosts are intriguing; they’re real, in a sense. I mean, they used to walk these very streets that we walk now. How powerful is that?” he asked and her eyes lit up, his green emeralds sparkling.

  “Yes, yes! Exactly!” she exclaimed, excited to have someone who finally saw her how she saw it, and agreed and seemed to encourage her interest. He observed the excitement in her eyes, the way her long vanilla arms and collarbone peaked out from behind the contrasts of the dark black attire, the long blond locks of her hair and he found himself staring at her a few moments longer than he should’ve, and he secretly hoped she didn’t notice.

  Eventually they said goodnight to one another, Laura telling him to come back the following night, making sure to tell him not to stop by during the day. When Ian inquired as to why, she said that her parents weren’t really all that accepting or friendly and he had laughed, asking whose parents really were, and she had agreed, telling him that perhaps after a few more nights of them hanging out, he might want to say hello to her parents.

  Chapter Three: A Familiar Face with a Future

  She heard the familiar raps on the door the following night and they snuck out onto the streets of the town, Ian taking her hand, cold to the touch, wanting to show her where she lived now and she loved the excitement of the exploration. He took her first to the park down the road and they sat on the swings, rocking back and forth in unison.

  “Do you go to the school down the road?” Laura asked, curious. He shook his head.

  “Nah. My mom home schools me.”

  “Really? Mine too,” she said, shocked by the similarities their lives had. She felt a connection to him, a strong bond between them as if they had been friends for years.

  “I figured, since I haven’t seen you leave the house yet.” They continued swinging and Ian told Laura about his intense love for literature, how he preferred night time over day time, and how his dad had left them when he was a child. She listened intently, the same way he had listened to her the night before, his voice filling the night and the air.

  As they left the park, Laura took Ian’s hand and he allowed her to without hesitation, looked in her eyes as she had done so, his eyes vibrating with hers so intensely that she had to look away. He had a certain force to him, a strength that sucked her in the same way the scent of skin sucks in moths in the summertime. They jumped over rocks and balanced on curbsides, Laura laughing a genuine laughter that she hadn’t heard emanate from her body for a long time. Finally, they found themselves outside the library, Ian shining his flashlight to show her the vast greatness that lay before them.

  It stood before Laura like an old prideful man, stout and firm in its roots and Laura ran up the stairs, placing a hand on its old bricks.

  “This building is stunning,” she whispered and he had come next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, Laura feeling the electricity between the two of them vibrate throughout her body.

  “It’s one of my favorite places to be,” Ian concurred. Laura felt a cold gust of wind shake her to the core and bones and she shivered. Ian reached up to her and rubbed her shoulders to warm her.

  “Well, come on,” he said as he motioned for her to follow him.

  “Now?” she asked and he nodded, leading her to a lower back window in the library that was left open a crack. Ian slipped his tall body in through the window, a long arm reaching out for hers afterwards. She grabbed it and he help to scoot her inside the building as well, shining his flashlight against the walls.

  “We have to go to the first floor if you want to get some ghost research done tonight,” he said and she followed him, allowing him to guide her. Every so often she would catch a glimpse of his stark blond hair in her flashlight, like the light surrounding an angel, and she walked behind him, allowing him to guide her as an angel would.

  They made their way to the reference center, Laura sliding into a chair and accessing a computer, Ian sitting next to her. He pulled out a book from the backpack that sat on his back and two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

  “Wow, you really plan ahead,” Laura said and he smiled, his smile sparkling in the dark room. She grabbed a sandwich and munched on it while she absorbed and searched for all the information on the small town she had just moved into, her palms sweating and her heart pounding, in great anticipation for what she might find.

  “Don’t you want to get info too?” Laura asked, her eyes refusing to move from the computer screen.

  “Nah, I think I know this town pretty well. I’ve been here forever,” she heard his raspy and husky voice admit.

  “Well, then why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “Because this is what you like to do,” he pointed out and she heard him turn a page of his book. She couldn’t argue with that, and so she clicked on article after article, printing numerous pages and artifacts, excited to go home and read it later.

  After a few hours, Laura glanced at the clock and said she needed to head home, thanking Ian immensely for having taken the time to sneak her into a place that was so important to her, admiring him for having taken a chance and understanding what her hobby and interests.<
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  “I know how hard it can be to find someone who ‘gets’ you,” he admitted, and then continued on, “but I think we get one another. I feel something here between the two of us. Something that’s undeniable,” he finished, suddenly seeming shy in her presence for having voiced their truth. She felt acknowledgment and justification in what she had felt was present between the two of them too. She smiled broadly.

  “I agree. I’m really glad you came knocking on my door. Now, don’t forget to come knocking again tomorrow,” she said, turning on her heel and leading herself back into her house.

  And so Ian came to her every night for the next few weeks, Laura divulging to him every night an article that she had read that day. She had to hide her articles in her room under her bed; she had accumulated a large binder of information about her town, gathering information that ranged from hundreds of years ago to those that were only just a few years old. Her favorite articles were those accompanied with pictures. She had pictures of the old high school (the new one having been built atop on the dust and ashes of the old one) , the downtown area, old homes and speak easies, horses and carriages ranging to cars and homes of the early 1990s. She looked at old homes, read about old mayors and murders that occurred over sex, drugs and broken hearts.

  “Have you ever heard about the old tale of Mary in downtown square’s grocery store?” Laura asked one night, each night having a new tale to spin to Ethan like a long ball of yarn.

  “Oh yeah, old Mary. They say if you stand in the middle of the grocery store and say her name while spinning around, you can see her face for a few moments.”

  “Have you ever tried it?” she pondered, eyes lighting up. He shook his head.

  “Nah.” She shoved the articles about it into his lap and he looked uncomfortable, unsure and uneasy. It was an expression Laura had never seen on him; she had always seen his confidence shine out of him like rays of hot sunshine, a glow and warmth she wanted to surrounded herself in, blanket herself in, daily.