Awaken The Dark Paradise Chronicles 1

by Isadora Brown

  Awaken

  Book 1 of the Dark Paradise Chronicles

  Isadora Brown

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Andie

  2. Keirah

  3. Reese

  4. Andie

  5. Keirah

  6. Reese

  7. Andie

  8. Keirah

  9. Reese

  10. Andie

  11. Keirah

  12. Reese

  13. Andie

  14. Keirah

  15. Reese

  16. Andie

  17. Keirah

  18. Reese

  19. Andie

  20. Keirah

  21. Reese

  22. Andie

  23. Keirah

  24. Reese

  25. Andie

  26. Keirah

  27. Reese

  28. Andie

  29. Keirah

  30. Reese

  31. Andie

  32. Keirah

  33. Reese

  34. Andie

  35. Keirah

  36. Reese

  37. Andie

  38. Keirah

  Epilogue

  Did You Like Awaken?

  Catalyst

  Acknowledgments

  Newsletter Information

  Also by Isadora Brown

  Also by Isadora Brown

  Also by Isadora Brown

  Written with Rebecca Hamilton

  Prologue

  He knew the moment she arrived in Onyx: she was special. She was different. She was the key.

  Not that she knew it.

  In fact, she didn’t know anything. Her parents brought her here after the accident because Onyx had most of the best doctors in the country. For the past year she had been in a coma. She’d be turning seventeen in a manner of minutes, according to the pocket watch he borrowed from the Ferry.

  He slipped the watch into the pocket of his brown slacks and turned his attention back to her. As clichéd as it sounded, he hadn’t seen anyone more angelic in his entire life, and he’d been around for a long time.

  His lips curled into a smirk. It was time.

  He was going to wake her up.

  Strolling over to her, his eyes took in her sleeping form. It was nearly midnight and the full moon’s soft glow seeped through the window, casting an ethereal aura around her. In all honesty, he hadn’t known she’d be this beautiful. It would make his job much easier.

  He had thirty seconds.

  His eyes traced her sculpted face: the hollow, high cheekbones, the short bridge of her upturned nose, the pale, almost sickly face, her pointed chin, and the blonde waves that invaded her forehead and tumbled past her shoulders to the middle of her chest. The silky strands glowed, attesting someone was washing and conditioning her hair for her even though hair upkeep wasn’t important for someone in her state.

  Ten seconds.

  He couldn’t see the color of her eyes, her height, or the shape of her body, but he could wait. He had been waiting for a long time; a few more days weren’t going to make a difference.

  Five seconds.

  Her lips were full. Whoever was washing her hair was putting lip balm on her lips. They were shaped like a bow, the angles more rounded than sharp. It fit her.

  Three …

  He bent his head, licking his lips in preparation.

  Two …

  His hair fell into his face, but he paid it no mind before pressing his lips to hers.

  All it takes is a kiss, as they say.

  Though he knew it was dangerous if she caught him standing there, he stayed until her eyes snapped open so he could see the color, a stormy grey. It was another unexpected thing about her. Her eyes were feisty, completely unlike the fragile features that composed the symmetry of her face. It was nice to be surprised again.

  Before she could make him out, decipher the reality of his presence, he was gone. His job was done. Now all he had to do was wait for the pieces to fall into place.

  1

  Andie

  To put it mildly, Andie was pissed.

  Her strawberry blonde hair decided to go frizzy on the one day she needed to look professional for an interview, and it was especially noticeable since she had decided to cut it to her chin over the summer. As she was getting her usual hot chocolate with extra whipped cream from Starbucks, some jerk completely spilled his hot black coffee all over her only white collared blouse that burned her skin and caused her to shout an expletive in front of a breastfeeding mother who shot her a look of disconcertment in her direction. Andie took a breath and waved an apology but the mother was already readjusting her newborn baby.

  By the time she reached Phillip Enterprises for her interview, she already knew she wasn’t going to get the internship due to her frazzled appearance, but she'd have to suffer through it thanks to her high school business class requirements. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to run her fingers through her hair, blinking away her tears. She needed some sort of internship by the end of the week or else she’d fail the class. She was already stressed out due to her mother’s constant reminders about how important it was that she got this internship, how the money from Andie’s work at the Spirit Museum and her older sister, Keirah’s, job at the bank just wasn’t cutting it anymore, and that taking care of one’s family was more important than getting a good education. Her mother would certainly be disappointed. No doubt she’d remind her how desperately they were struggling ever since their father left, and how she was depending on Andie to help out, how she couldn't count on Keirah the way she could depend on Andie. “Couldn’t you just do a little more?” Her mother would plead. “It will go such a long way.”

  The interviewer, by the way, was not Jack Phillip like she expected - Onyx High School wanted to make sure their students spoke to as many business owners as possible, even if they did not get the internship - but some old guy whose job title was Executive Assistant to the Assistant to the Assistant Director. He was someone who did not seem like he wanted to spend the time to educate Andie regarding business advice as he kept checking his expensive watch every few seconds. Apparently Mr. Phillip couldn’t be bothered to interview a high school junior clamoring for the lone internship his company offered, even though he was only a few years older than she.

  The interviewer began with the dumbest question she had ever heard: “Did you know you have a stain on your shirt?”

  The pressure she felt spilled out. “Yes, I did." The tears started to come but she tried to hold them in. It wasn't professional and she knew her interviewer had little if any sympathy. "I-I." She cut herself off and sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry. I'm not having a good day."

  "Yes, well, that's life, isn't it?" he asked snidely before glancing at his watch.

  The interview went on the same. By the time he asked the last question - "Why do you think you'd be an asset to Phillip Enterprises?" - Andie was done.

  "Let's cut the shit," she said, before she could stop herself. She winced but it was like the words couldn't stop. "We both know I'm not getting the job. Let's stop wasting each other's time."

  Because of that particular retort, security had to be called, because what’s a party without rent-a-cops? In a commendable fifteen seconds, Andie found herself walking the streets of Onyx, running her shaky fingers through her brow-length bangs. This was a new feeling for her, being absolutely furious. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. Her fingers itched to call her best friend, but she was heading over to Carey’s house now. And anyway, it wasn’t likely she could even formulate words at the moment. Her head was starting to pound and as a result her well-honed pedest
rian dodging skills weren’t up to par. She ran into someone, someone built, because instead of knocking him over, she fell down rather ungracefully on her backside.

  “This is just typical,” she hissed through gritted teeth. Before she knew it, someone grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  She cast her eyes up, ready to tell the person to watch where he was going, when she came in contact with a pair of jade-green eyes. He was tall, probably six feet, and dressed casually—something uncharacteristic for him; he was rarely seen in anything but one of those designer suits he owned. His thick chestnut brown hair was not slicked back from his face the way he normally wore it, but falling loosely, framing his long face. His thin lips, notorious for frowning or making out with his flavor of the week, were pursed, and he looked at her with a quizzical brow, probably due to the furious look she was giving him.

  “Of course,” she muttered. “Who do I happen to run into on this already horrible day? You.”

  Andie knew today wasn't his fault. She knew it. But she couldn't stop herself. The word vomit kept coming out, like she was already in too deep and stopping was just not an option.

  They were standing on the bustling sidewalk, the passersby none the wiser a celebrity was in their mist. Andie could tell he was getting uncomfortable, but she didn’t care.

  “I’ve had the worst day because of you,” she snapped, dropping her eyes to his causual designer outfit. He was wearing a royal blue V-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and pressed khaki pants. She needed to stop. She knew she needed to stop, but then she thought of her mother and the disappointment at failing at one simple task and she couldn't. “I went to your building to be interviewed for your internship and obviously didn’t get the job because the interviewer—who wasn’t you, by the way, like I was led to believe—asked the stupidest question and ugh!” She threw her arms up in frustration.

  It was official: she was having a tantrum. Andie hadn't had one of those since she was a toddler. In fact, she didn't remember feeling like she had permission to complain about anything - not with the unrealistic expectations her mother placed on her even though Keirah was a year older than she was. Why everything fell on Andie's shoulders, Andie did not know.

  Jack Phillip blinked once, twice, and cordially said in his usual low, soft-spoken voice, “Do you think it might have to do with your attitude? Because, certainly, my staff—who I do train personally, though it isn’t any of your business—would never hire someone as rude, brash, and obnoxious as you. And they certainly don’t need me to tell them otherwise. You, on the other hand, would need more supervision than I could afford to hire. Want some advice? Watch your mouth.”

  Her mouth dropped open as fast as if he had reached over and slapped her across the face. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was PMSing. Maybe she was having some sort of breakdown because of all the pressure and expectations she just failed to meet. She was being completely unprofessional, but in the heat of the moment, it didn’t matter. His words had no time to sink in. Before she realized what she was doing, she grabbed her water bottle from her oversized bag, unscrewed the cap, and dumped it on him. Being only five foot six, Andie couldn’t pour it over him like she wanted to - she opted for flats instead of heels - but at least she got him wet. His countenance darkened and his jade green eyes took on an edge.

  Phillip’s sudden change in demeanor didn’t intimidate the seventeen-year-old. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said. “You have no idea the pressure I'm under to secure a steady paycheck. Do you think I’m naturally a bitch?”

  Before she could follow up, he answered with one firm nod. “Yes.”

  Once again, her mouth dropped open, and before she could finish, he began to walk away. She would be damned if she let him get away with the last word. If she could get a win somehow, this would be it, and it wasn't like she would ever see him again so she decided to finish the word-vomit and end up on top.

  God, she was being petty, but she wasn't even in her right mind to care.

  Andie quickly positioned herself directly in front of him, preventing him from walking any further. “Maybe you’re right and my attitude could use some fine-tuning,” she admitted. “It’s no excuse for my behavior, but I’ve had the worst day. And it frustrates me that you look like nothing is bugging you. No stress. No family to support. Not that my problems should mean you should have problems but -"

  "What is it you're trying to say because you constantly contradict yourself?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Andie caught her breath. He was being surprisingly patient with her, despite how rude she acted. Just because she was having a bad day didn't mean everyone needed to have a bad day to make her feel better. She could end this on a high note, even if she started at the bottom.

  "I'm just sorry," she finally said, meeting his eyes. "Enjoy your nice day, Mr. Phillip."

  "Come on." The corner of his lip flickered up. "That wasn't what you wanted to say. Tell me."

  Andie furrowed her brow and glanced away. Traffic was starting to build up on Seventeenth Street. It didn't help that they were paving the roads.

  "Come on," he implored her, a twinkle tickling his eyes. "Tell me."

  "Your interviewer is an asshole," Andie said finally. "And that makes you one by association."

  "By ass-ociation?" he asked.

  Andie felt herself smile, despite herself. She shook her head and stepped around him, preparing herself for the long trek across the city to the residential neighborhoods and finally at Carey's place.

  - - -

  Her walk to Carey’s home was a blur. Carey lived with her parents in a townhouse tucked in Onyx Garden, a gated community, and she had to press in the key code three times before her fingers got the numbers correct. From there, it was a two minute walk to the blue and white classic colonial-style home. Andie walked up to the door and all but pounded on it.

  “Geesh, Andie,” Carey said as she opened the door. “What’s your—” she stopped mid-sentence, her quick brown eyes taking in her friend’s appearance. “You look like shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wanna talk about it over chocolate chip cookies?” Carey led Andie through the foyer to the marble-topped kitchen counter. “My mom made a fresh batch before she had to scurry off to confirm a really important job tomorrow. You know, the one we’re waitressing for?” She winked as she took a seat on the barstool.

  Andie headed for the island, after grabbing a glass of milk. She took a seat across from Carey and remained silent while she took a bite of the still-warm cookie. It melted on her tongue. She had no idea how, but homemade chocolate chip cookies always made her problems disappear. Now she could talk.

  “Oh my God,” Carey said, reaching up to touch the back of her neck. Her pixie-cut, dark blonde hair and soft facial features made her look like a fairy, and her dimples just added to the allure, giving mischievousness to her adorable façade. “You did what?”

  “I know, I know,” Andie said, wincing like a puppy being scolded. “I shouldn’t have gone off on him. It just happened. Look, in all likelihood, I’ll never see the guy again. I’m planning to chalk the whole incident up to PMS, learn to not take my problems out on rich douchebags, and forget about the whole thing, okay? I just hope the guy hasn’t blacklisted me. Oh my gosh, do you think he can fire me from the Spirit Museum? I mean, technically he doesn’t own it, but he donates so much that I bet if he called them—”

  “Dude, Andie, calm down,” Carey said, grabbing Andie’s wrist to emphasize her point. “You’ll be fine. It’ll all work out.”

  Andie’s eyes narrowed on Carey’s sucked-in cheeks. Carey only sucked in her cheeks when she wasn’t telling Andie something, something important. “What, Carey?” she asked. “What did you do?”

  “Okay, the thing is, when you hear what happens next, you’ll be slapping your knees due to how funny life is,” she explained, her voice getting breathier the faster she spoke. “You know the waitr
essing job tomorrow night? The catering job my mom is confirming right now, that you already agreed to waitress with me? Well, that job is at Phillip’s party tomorrow night.”

  Andie’s mouth dropped open. The cookie fell apart in her hands but she didn’t notice. “That’s just great,” she muttered. “Not that I don’t appreciate the job, Care, because I do. I definitely need the money, but I’m pretty sure once he sees my face, he’ll kick me out of his house for sure.” She paused, sighing, and in a nicer tone, asked, “There’s no way I can get out of this?”

  Carey pressed her lips together and looked at the smooth surface of the marble countertop. That was a no.

  “Fine.” Andie felt her stomach sink into a pool on the black and white tile floor. “What time tomorrow night?”

  2

  Keirah

  Keirah glanced at the clock on her desk. It was just after one o’clock on Thursday afternoon, which meant Dr. Hawkins wouldn’t be back for another half hour. It was also the time Andie would be at her interview with Jack Phillip.

  It was a little embarrassing that her younger sister was in her business class—a class that was supposed to be restricted to seniors. For whatever reason, everyone seemed to like Andie, so she managed to talk the school counselor, Mrs. Kate, into letting her take the class early. That meant Keirah had to deal with Andie and her overabundant ambition every Friday when the class met to turn in their weekly progress reports and discuss the local business environment.