by K. Webster
This Isn’t You, Baby
Copyright © 2016 K. Webster
Cover Design: All By Design
Photo: Adobe Stock
Editor: Premier Romance Editing
Formatting: Champagne Formats
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
PART ONE
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
PART TWO
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
PART THREE
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Playlist
Books by Author K Webster
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Warning:
This Isn’t You, Baby is a dark romance. Strong sexual themes, excessive drug use, and violence, which could trigger emotional distress are found in this story. If you are sensitive to dark themes, then this story is not for YOU.
This story will make YOU smile.
This story will make YOU angry.
This story will make YOU crazy.
I hope YOU love it, baby.
“My only love sprung from my only hate.”
— William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Age Sixteen
“This is stupid, Dad,” I say with a grunt. “We should have called the cops and had them follow us to Coronado Beach. That prick belongs in prison.”
Dad leans back in his office chair and swivels to regard me. Frown lines mar his otherwise smooth forehead, and I swear he’s sporting a few greys that weren’t there last month. The meeting with Gabe and Hannah at the beach several days ago has taken a toll on my father. It’s driving him crazy not being able to tell my mother. The guilt is written all over his face. “We can’t and you know that. They’ll take her away from us.”
I wince at his rough tone and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “I know,” I concede. “I just hate him. Hate that the old fucker is with Han.”
“Language, son,” he grunts before turning back to his computer where he’s been looking up Gabe’s daughter’s whereabouts. “I hate him too. He’s evil and unpredictable but…” he trails off.
So is Hannah.
We’re both thinking it but neither of us voice it.
She killed Gabe’s wife, for crying out loud. If we called the police, they’d take away my sister right along with him. And while that would upset our family, it would devastate my father. He loves her with damn blinders on. Sees past her moments of crazy that the rest of us in this family can’t always overlook.
“Heath Berkley looks good on paper,” he says as he toggles between screens. My dad is smart as shit with computer stuff. I’m not stupid enough to not know that what he’s doing is illegal. But when it comes to his family, I think Dad would do whatever needed to be done. “I just wish there was a way we could keep an eye on her. She’s our only insurance. The Berkleys live about an hour from here. It’ll be hard to stay on top of her.”
While Dad flips through his financials, I scroll through my pictures to some selfies Hannah took with my phone. In the pictures, my sister looks calm and casual. The storm that brews sometimes in her eyes isn’t present in the photos. It saddens me. I fucking miss her crazy ass.
“Jesus Jacopo.”
“What?”
“That’s the name of the kid who mows their lawn. They don’t use a fancy lawn service. Just some kid,” Dad states as if this means anything to me.
“Okaaaaaay,” I draw out, furrowing my brows together in confusion.
“I’m going to call Jesus and double what he makes in an entire season working for them. You’re going to take his place.”
At this I laugh. “No, Dad.”
“Ren,” he grumbles. “You’re sixteen with no job. Just because we aren’t hurting for money doesn’t mean you’ll get away with not having a job. Most males have a job at sixteen. It’s like a rite of passage.”
I huff. “Hannah didn’t have a job.”
“Hannah’s different. We’ve discussed this.”
I curl up my lip in disgust. “So I’m supposed to mow lawns for some family just so I can spy on psycho Gabe’s daughter.”
He frowns and turns to regard me. “The girl lost her mother and her father without any explanation. It isn’t fair for her. Just do this for our family. Please.”
Guilt surges through me. Not because of the girl but because Dad has never really asked me to do anything of such importance. I don’t want to let him down.
“Fine. But if she’s insane like her dad, I’m out.”
I pull up to the sprawling gated Berkley Estate. They’re clearly loaded as hell. The house is gigantic and so is the damn yard. I could be surfing this summer but instead, twice a week, it looks like I’ll be the Berkeley’s indentured servant.
Thanks a lot, Han.
With a huff, I climb out of the black truck my parents bought me eight months ago. My irritation shows as I stomp to the back of my truck and wrangle my brand new lawnmower out. Dad purchased the lawn equipment for me last night. We spun a story for Mom and she believes I’m mowing to earn some extra cash to start paying for my own car insurance. Dad droned on and on about how teens need to earn things so they don’t turn out to be spoiled brats. After all that’s happened with Hannah lately, I don’t even think Mom was really listening.
At first, as I begin mowing the big ass lawn, I’m pissed. I crank up some Nine Inch Nails on my headphones and ignore the world around me. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye out for this Gabriella girl, but she’s nowhere to be found. Just me and the damn never-ending yard. When I become completely drenched in sweat, I yank off my wet T-shirt and stuff it into the back of my shorts. It’s then when I feel it.
Someone staring at me.
Stopping the mower, I swipe at the sweat on my forehead as Closer starts thumping its bass in my headphones. I drag my gaze along the windows of the house. The shades are all drawn and I wonder why I feel like someone is watching me. When I glance up at the second floor, I lock eyes with a brown-eyed girl. The same brown eyes as that motherfucker who is banging my sister. Gabriella. But this girl’s eyes don’t look evil. They look sad. She peeks at me from behind the glass with her plump lips in a pout. A red-headed girl pops in beside her to see what she’s staring at. Then, the other girl tries tugging Gabriella from the window.
Gabriella reaches for the glass—almost as if she’s reaching for me—and my heart rate quickens in response. She disappears and I feel disappointed almost immediately. A protectiveness—much l
ike I always felt with Hannah—settles over me. The girl can’t help she’s the spawn of Satan. Right? She needs people like Dad and I looking after her. Right?
I restart the mower and this time, I don’t rush my work. For the next several hours, I meticulously trim and weed-eat the massive yard. After I load my equipment back into the truck, I can’t help but look back at her window.
Gabriella sits perched on the ledge. She’s wearing a pair of jean shorts and her short legs are stretched out along the window as she paints her toenails. Long, wavy dark brown hair hangs in front of her shoulders.
I wonder if her hair is soft.
The thought jars me, and I shake it out of my head. When she notices me frowning, she frowns too.
I want to see her smile.
Lifting my chin, I give her a small wave and a huge grin. She sits up and in return gives me the most breathtaking smile.
She’s beautiful.
I’m disappointed when she leaves the window once again. But as I climb into my truck, I have a whole new outlook. This job just got a whole lot more interesting.
Don’t worry, Gabriella, I’ll look after you now.
Three years later
“Hair up or down?” Vienna questions, her back to me as she fusses with her dark red locks. “Dad will want it up.” At this she sends me a pouty look in the mirror.
Just the mention of her father—my adopted dad—Heath Berkley has my skin crawling. I’ve been under his roof since I was fifteen. And now that I’m nearing my eighteenth birthday, the vibe around him has gone from creepy to menacing. I feel like time is ticking by way too quickly and when it finally hits its mark, I’ll be in for a rude awakening.
“Wear it down. You look like Ariel from The Little Mermaid,” I tell her as I scroll through my phone. When Vee and I turned sixteen, Heath got us phones.
There aren’t many people in my contact list. Heath, his wife Izzie, Vee, Oscar Rojas, and…Ren.
“Ugh, that’s what your boy toy always says too.” She sticks her tongue out at me.
As if on cue, he texts me.
Romeo: Can I crash the party tonight?
A smile tugs at my lips. We’ve been out a few times on dates when Heath is away on business, although those dates have dwindled since Ren went to college. He’s taking a crap ton of courses and no longer mows our lawn. However, since he’s out of school for the summer, we can go back to seeing each other again. Besides Vee, he’s my closest friend.
A friend who I’ve kissed more times than I can count.
A friend who I want to do much more with.
A friend who never fails to text or call me each day.
I just wish we could be more than friends.
Me: Heath wouldn’t like it. You better not.
“Green dress or red dress?” Vee questions. Her red eyebrow is raised in question. I’d kill to have her silky hair and cute, freckly face. Everything about her is adorable.
“Red clashes with your hair,” I say with a laugh.
She huffs at me but tosses the red dress.
Romeo: I miss you.
My heart flutters at his words. I haven’t seen him since spring break when we snuck off for a beach day with his brother Calder and Vee. Heath just thought us girls were going shopping. Had he known we went off with boys, he’d have forbidden it. That day, under the warm March sun, Ren and I made out like...well, teenagers. He nearly grinded me into the sand where, might I add, I had my first orgasm. Luckily, Calder and Vee were on the Jet Ski so they didn’t notice my embarrassing moans. If we hadn’t been low on time and out in public, I’d have begged Ren to take my virginity right there on the beach.
“You should get dressed,” Vee says with a huff as she zips up her fitted jade-colored dress. “Dad doesn’t like it when we’re not ready to go.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Why? He’ll just make me change anyway.”
At this, her pale cheeks burn bright red. I know she’s embarrassed about how her father acts around me. Like I’m a piece of property. Neither she nor I will discuss why he’s this way. It’s awkward for us both. The only thing that makes sense about my life is the fact that she and I became best friends. She was a lonely, homeschooled child while I’d lost everyone closest to me. We were naturally drawn to one another. I hurry and fire off another text to Ren before Heath gets here.
Me: I miss you too.
Vee spritzes some perfume on and fusses with her eyeliner. She’s looking especially stunning today. I know she’s attempting to please her dumb dad. And probably hoping to lure one of the Rojas brothers into liking her.
It won’t work.
None of the Rojas brothers—not even Oscar—are interested in her. It’s why I’m here in the first place. To be married off to one of them. And while I get along with Oscar the best, I don’t want to be married off to anyone. I had plans. College. A career in filmmaking. And then later on down the road, marriage and a family. But ever since Dad lost his mind and ran off with the psycho who killed my mother, my plans got slaughtered too.
“Earth to Brie,” Vee snaps, looking feisty with her hands on her hips.
God I wish they would like her instead so I would be off the hook. Life would be a lot simpler that way.
“What?”
“I asked if you were texting with Ren. Has Calder asked about me?” She bats her eyelashes sweetly. I don’t know why she’s asking about Calder. Last time he tried to kiss her, she avoided him. Since I’ve known her, she’s been obsessed with Oscar. And even though Calder is a hot, nice guy, she just doesn’t seem too into him for some reason.
“Ren wanted to crash the party,” I say with a laugh. “And no, he didn’t mention Calder.”
She pouts, and I swear it makes her look sultry, as she tosses her red hair over her shoulder. “Dad would have a fit if Ren showed up. In fact, if he knew you two sort of dated, he’d go nuts.”
I let out a huff. “And that’s why he’ll never know. As far as your dad’s concerned, I’m his dumb little puppet.”
Vee’s eyes well up with tears and I worry she’ll mess up her newly applied makeup. “I’m sorry,” she tells me for the millionth time since I came here. “But I’m not sorry you’re my best friend. If Dad hadn’t adopted you…” Her words trail off and her lip trembles. “I was lonely until you came to live with us.”
I toss my phone on the bed and pull her in for a hug. She’s taller than me, especially now that she’s wearing heels, so I basically get a face full of boobs.
“You’re my family now, Vee. I’m happy I have you.”
We’re still in a sisterly embrace when tension crackles through the air. I can always sense his presence before I ever see or hear him.
Heath Berkley.
The man who owns me.
“Vienna, baby doll, your mother was looking for you. The wait staff is arriving for the party, and she needs you to help direct them where to go,” he says in a smooth tone that makes me shiver.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers against my hair before releasing me.
As soon as she exits the bedroom, Heath pounces.
Like a black panther stalking its prey, he strides over to me. His knuckles lift my chin so our eyes meet. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
Irritation trickles through me and I narrow my gaze at him. “You always make me change anyway.”
He steps away from me and regards my outfit with a disgusted look. “You know I hate when you wear this shit.” He waves at my black yoga pants and oversized T-shirt. “Take it off.”
I’m stunned by his words as he storms into my massive closet. Hangers clang together as he searches for something for me to wear. When he reemerges, a scowl paints his features.
“Off.”
“W-What?” I hiss. “Not while you’re watching me.”
His face reddens and a vein in his forehead pulsates with rage. Normally I do as he says, but he’s never asked me to undress in front of him before. I have to draw the line somewhere.
<
br /> “Gabriella, take off your goddamned clothes before I take them off for you,” he growls.
Tears pinch the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to let him see me cry. For three years, I’ve lived in this house and hidden my emotions from him. Not once have I let him see how broken I am inside at having seen my mother’s bloody, dead body or how devastated I was that my dad chose her killer over me.
When he takes a menacing step toward me, I let out a yelp. “Gabriella.” His low, warning growl has me peeling off the big T-shirt. Had I known he was going to force me to undress in front of him, I’d have worn a bra. As soon as the shirt hits the floor, his eyes flicker with desire. I don’t miss the way his slacks bulge with his erection. A shiver of fear ripples through me.
“Pants.”
Swallowing, I slowly push the material down over my hips toward my knees. Thankfully I have on a pair of black lacey boy short panties. He stalks over to me and brushes some hair away from my face. His scent chokes me, and I nearly gag.
“So perfect,” he praises, his fingertips tangling in my hair. He presses a soft kiss to my mouth. My entire body freezes. Heath has kissed me but never on the mouth. Usually on the cheek, forehead, or the top of my head. “Please wear a bra with this dress.” His voice is husky. The heat from his body nearly scorches me although we are barely touching.
“Okay.”
“Now, Gabriella.”
I jolt away from him and scramble to find a bra. Once I’ve put it on in record speed, I start for the dress he’s laid out on the bed. When I bend over to grab it, he steps behind me. His large hands find my hips and he pulls my ass against his hard-on.
“Do you feel what you do to me?”
I swallow and try not to cringe. Embarrassment causes my flesh to heat. “I’m sorry?”
He chuckles and his thumbs rub circles on my hipbones. “I’m not.”
A shriek escapes me when he pops my ass softly with his hand before striding away from me. Before he exits, he turns to regard me with a sly grin. “What do you want for your birthday?”