HEART’S DESIRE
Game of Hearts Series
Book 2
SARAH ALABASTER
Devin Robinson takes a walk in the city he loves to find himself running into the woman of his dreams. She is there at every place he visits. Around every corner he turns. When she spills coffee on him the connection they share sparks a desire he never felt before. But when he approaches her to find out who she is, she assumes he's stalking her and his intentions are all lost - or so it would seem.
Clara moved to the big city to hide from the world. Lost in a sea of people she figured no one that came looking for her would find her among all these people. When she sees a man she recognizes, her defenses go up and survival instincts kick in. Comforting him is all she thinks about when she leaves her apartment. Fear is no longer in her DNA, so she stands her ground with him only to discover a connection she never felt with anyone.
How do you make a relationship with a stranger when you are so afraid to be yourself?
How could you protect yourself from the one thing you never anticipated happening - desire?
*Content Warning: This book ends in a cliffhanger that leads into the next book in the series. Not intended for all audiences. Contains explicit details, sexual content, and strong language. Written for 18+ audience.
Copyright © 2018 by Sarah Alabaster
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 publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Added Touches Publishing. Ebook formatting by Added Touches, LLC. Cover design by Added Touches. Edited by The Formatting Fairies. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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Printed in the United States of America
First printing, 2018
Visit the publisher’s website at www.addedtouches.com.
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Table of Contents
Copyright © 2018 by Sarah Alabaster
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
About the Author
Prologue
Prologue
“Shhh,” she hears as the burn begins to register.
It’s a fleeting sound that makes its way into the deepest corners of her psyche.
Thoughts of tomorrow rush past her as the unwelcome cloudiness begins its decent upon her being.
It’s the pain of the blade as it penetrates over and over, again and again, along with the burn that accompanies it each and every time.
“Shhh” is all she hears now, but she can’t figure out the voice that’s saying it.
Then the darkness welcomes itself to her. It’s the last thing she hears—the hush from a man who is trying to kill her.
***
It’s hard to tell where this all began, but for me this is the moment that embeds itself in my brain like a tape stuck on repeat. Over and over the moment takes hold, shattering what’s left of me. Over and over I hear the hush from someone I just can’t place.
Why won’t this stop? I ask myself as I gaze upon my reflection in the mirror. Flashes of that moment play once again in the background, like a memory just out of reach.
Why do I have to keep enduring this?
Looking up at the sky, I pray for an answer I know won’t come.
Why can’t this all just go away?
Burying my head in my hands, a tear slides down my cheek. I’m stuck in a nightmare.
But it’s been eight years!
I’m exasperated at once again having to relive this whole ordeal. My scars are just now beginning to fade from the deep reddish color they were to more of a white that blends into my skin more and more every day.
Why can’t the memories fade as well?
It’s progress to finally be able to look at myself in the mirror without having to see what happened, but those stupid flashbacks bring it all back time and again. The stranglehold of the memories chokes me until I can barely breathe as it plays out in my mind. It draws out the devastation in my heart. I still can’t believe that the person who inflicted all this on me was never found. I can’t even remember who he was. I couldn’t give the police or anyone else the information they needed to find him.
It kills me that I’ve never got the justice I so rightly deserve.
He’s still out there. Is he waiting? Will he return someday? When will that moment come? Today? Tomorrow? Next week?
It’s the wait that maddens me, the sheer drama and terror of it all. I live my life never knowing if that person will be back. I’m always looking in the darkest corners of wherever I am to see if someone will come out and attack me. Heck, we don’t even know if it’s a man or woman at this point, so we can’t even narrow down the general population to a target demographic that could be psycho.
I remember knowing that voice at the time, but once I woke up in the hospital, that memory was so faded that all I could recollect were the words—not the person who was saying them.
The memories of that day never seem far from my subconscious. The answers are just out of reach, and prevent me from finding out the truth. The sounds of the hush are clear, yet still not audible enough to make out who was there.
All I know is that that person stole the promising life of a young woman just beginning to take on the world.
Chapter One
I tell myself it’s the time of year that has me on edge, and not the crowded room of people eager to get my reaction from the latest news footage. I don’t want to see the correspondent state the similarities of the latest victim to my situation yet again.
I’m not a situation! I yell to myself inside my head.
That was my life that someone destroyed. Eight years of this hell hasn’t produced any real results in terms of closure, and yet, as I begin to register the people in the room, it’s with a heavy heart that I come to a new realization.
It could be anyone…
Ugh, this seriously needs to change. My life now is a bunch of people I hardly know critiquing my interpretation of news footage of the latest victim—who’s not even in close proximity to this town or where all of this originally occurred.
It’s in that moment that I finally make a decision.
It’s time to go! It’s time to get my life back—for myself. Time for me—not everyone else—to live.
As I continue to survey the room, it’s then that I notice my friends are not looking at me in support, but more for my reaction, and what they can gain from it. It’s one thing to be the friend of the victim who had to endure the aftermath. It’s quite another to be the person who helps out from the outside, look
ing in on the stranger who went through the ordeal.
My subconscious is stating what I’ve already known for a while.
Friends don’t bask in your pain. Friends help you grieve what you lost and move on. Yet, in the eight years since this happened, the only things moving forward are their careers and padded pocketbooks as they recite the latest tribulations of what it’s like being the friend of the victim.
Just as I’m mulling over these rather blatant insights, the news footage features Bethany recounting the moment when I heard about the attack, only a few counties away.
Once shy and timid, Bethany could hardly talk to a camera—let alone on one—in the old days, and now here she is, richer from the generous payments the station gives to those they interview.
No wonder my friends seem to want to know how I’m feeling all the time. Have I always been this clueless?
Bethany can’t help but notice my eyes watching her as she begins to approach me from across the room. Regarding her as she makes her way over, I’m dismayed by the cool stare she gives me. It’s not one of genuine concern, but that of a predator about to attack its prey. Knowing she probably doesn’t want to upset the meal ticket she sponges off, I plaster the façade of the victim back on my face.
“Doing okay over there?” she asks as she stops in front of me.
I swear I will lose it if she attempts to touch me or go in for a “supportive” hug.
What was with the hugging nonsense, anyway? When did it become okay to paw at victims like myself?
I shake my head to keep from saying anything. I don’t want her to know what I’m thinking. Then I watch as she narrows her eyes, contemplating what’s going on inside my head.
If she only knew.
Trying to hide my distain, I smile as politely as possible, not wanting to give anything away.
“Yep,” I answer curtly, the pop in the p sounded a little harsher than I’d intended.
To her credit, she feigns mock shock as she grabs for my arm in apparent concern.
“Dang, honey, you wanna get outta here and talk about it?”
Crap, I knew I couldn’t hide my disgust well enough. This only solidifies what I need to do next. I decide to take a different approach to the situation.
Don’t go with distain, don’t go with distain, I tell myself. Don’t go with wanting to wrap your hands around her neck and screaming at everyone. Those opportunistic pricks, how dare they all pretend to be my friends! Don’t think about the satisfaction it would bring to scream at the top of your lungs, “You assholes! How dare you take advantage of my situation?”
“Bethany, I’m as good as can be expected.” Oh, that’s good, I say to myself. “Now’s not the time for talking. I’m just not up for it.”
I’m not sure where that came from, but she looks genuinely contrite, and I take this as a victory as I begin to plan my next move.
***
“Honey, we’re off, unless you need us to stay with you for the night?”
Were they always doing this, and I was just too caught up in my own bubble that I missed it?
“No, you guys go, I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna curl up with the latest Sydney Landon book and indulge in some impossible fantasies about how guys who know how to treat a woman.”
“Haven’t you figured out by now that those men don’t exist?” Logan’s asks in mock disbelief as his brows shoot up. “I know you’ve been looking for him to just sweep you up off your feet and take you against the wall, but have you seen the guys that come into this place? I mean, do you really want that sweaty guy over there strolling up to you wrapping his arms around your waist?”
“Ew! That’s enough, Logan! Gross! Just stop it and go! Get out!”
“Come on, Clarbear. I’m just teasing,” he says with a twist of his mouth.
“The last thing I need after today is images of that! With him!”
My shudders can’t take away the dirty feeling that makes its way over my skin. Gee, three showers probably won’t be able to wash that away. God knows I’ll try, though. Maybe five would be better. Yuck. I just shake my head and wonder what’s wrong with Logan’s.
After a few moments he breaks through my reverie and quickly apologizes as they make their way out the door.
“Night!”
One by one they leave without any additional words, but what should I expect now that I know what is really going on with my so-called friends?
I usually never close. My boss knows I don’t do that kind of thing. I don’t like the idea of putting myself in any situation that could bring about an incident similar to that of the attack. The thought alone has my heart pounding as the clock ticks by, seconds to minutes, minutes to hours. It’s getting closer to that time when night is darkest, closer to that time when the darkest thing happened to me once before. It only took that one incident, that one terrible moment, to ruin certain hours of the day for me. Now I simply close my eyes and try to get through it. I can’t bear to be alone during this time of day, but I know I must—for my own sanity.
Plagued with images of the attack, my thoughts fixate on the moment that changed my life forever, and I am once again back where I was then—mentally broken. Now I’m just a shadow of the woman I should have become. If only things were different, and I could redo that particular portion of life. Things would be so different. Things would have turned out so much better for me.
My thoughts are always plagued with a sense of shame. My mind tries its best to move forward, but it remains locked in the same position. The aftereffects of a trauma that just won’t break its hold on me.
Then it hits me like a sledgehammer: I’m doing this! I’m the one making myself nuts.
Once again, this day has shown me again how blind I’ve been. Once again, it all becomes clear as I undo the apron from around my waist, allowing it to drop off my hips into a pool on the floor.
Once again, I know what I need to do.
It’s in that moment that I voice the thoughts that played across my mind all night.
Standing in front of the restaurant manager, I finally say it.
“I quit.”
And then I walk out the door without looking back.
Chapter Two
It’s a time and a place that I’ve come to adore. It was a time that I once couldn’t stand before, but now I know and love it. I’m home…
Who knew I would love it here?
Okay, inner voice, you did, and that’s why we left. I’ve finally found a place that’s secure, a life that I adore. Now I can’t fathom being anywhere else.
Who knew this girl from a small town—a waitress no less—could find such wonderful friends in a big city? I have such a loving home here, surrounded by all these people who don’t know anything about my past. They’ve welcomed me with such open arms almost from the time I arrived.
Who knew I could love living in this condo, so high up?
I’m finally happy.
If only my old “friends” could see me now. Man, they would be pissed when I informed them I was leaving for a fresh start somewhere far away. Ha.
I think I actually saw a vein in Brice’s head pop when he realized his cash cow was leaving with no forwarding address. Sure, I said I’d keep in touch, but really, after I figured it out, why would I be friends with those people after what they did to me?
Ugh, even Bethany had tried to make me stay. When she realized that there was no talking me out of it, she had actually tried to scare me into staying.
Wow, that had been ballsy.
Who knew she could be so cold and calculated?
After two years in my new city, I can’t help but smile at how wonderful life has become. I moved across the country with no forwarding address. I changed my last name to an alias that only I know, and somehow I found the courage to actually go through with it all.
I really thought that I was going to chicken out when a panic attack hit me hard that first time. I thought I would have to ask for forg
iveness from everyone, and beg them to stay with me as I crumbled yet again. My inner strength wouldn’t let me, though. The voice inside my head could be a real bitch when it came to discerning the leeches and discarding the bad elements from my life.
It seemed as if my mind was set before my heart could process what was happening. Then I was gone by way of the northwest frontier. Okay, it really isn’t much of a frontier, since my condo has all the trimmings of a penthouse, with the security of Fort Knox.
I hug myself as I twirl around the lush space that is my living room. My job is remote, so I can be anywhere and still do my work. Just last week I made it to Palm Beach and enjoyed finalizing the project I had spent the last year facilitating.
My job is complicated, demanding, and time-consuming. Did I mention demanding? And I love, love, love every minute of it!
One morning the sounds of the traffic below give way to the silence that surrounds my sanctuary. It’s the quiet hum that lulls me to sleep. It’s strange, because I don’t normally sleep during the day. Usually I’m a night owl. After what happened, though, the night terrors make sound sleep impossible, so I spend most of it reading or catching a few hours here and there where I can. Night is when I sleep—well, try to sleep, whereas daytime just doesn’t give me the peace I require for my shut-eye, so it’s weird that I should find peace enough to sleep until midday today.
The dreams are the same, though, no matter the time of day. It’s the voice whispering the shush that registers in my mind first. Then come the visions of the reflection of light in the blade, just before it starts slicing into my side. After the attack, metallic sparks of light made me instantly burst into tears, and had me shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
Like I said, the dreams are always the same. The hush, the light shining off the blade, me remembering the burn, and the lack of pain at first, until the adrenaline passed. The haze of a face I don’t see is always above me, watching. That’s all I see of the person who did this to me. That’s all I see before I wake, screaming and sobbing in tears.
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