Lilly (Angel Series Book 3)

by Tracy Lorraine

  Lilly

  Angel #3

  Tracy Lorraine

  Copyright © 2017 by Tracy Lorraine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Pinpoint Editing

  Formatted by Tracy Lorraine

  Cover design by Tracy Lorraine

  Lindsay, my sister from another mister.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Tracy Lorraine

  Foreword

  Lilly and Lucas’ story can be read as a standalone but I would recommend reading the series from the beginning.

  Prologue

  Lilly

  I pull the door open and know instantly that something isn’t right. His eyes are crazy, he’s sweating and his chest is heaving up and down with his increased breaths.

  I’ve had moments in my life where I have been scared, but I have never felt like this—like I need to be scared for my life.

  I rack my brain for what I could have done to annoy him this much, but I can’t come up with anything.

  “Jake, what’s wr—” I don’t get to finish asking my question, because he reaches out his hand and grasps the top of my arm tightly.

  “You fucking whore,” he grates out in a really eerie voice.

  I’m too shocked by his words to reply. Apparently, this doesn’t please him though.

  “YOU FUCKING WHORE,” he repeats—only this time, at the top of his voice.

  “I…I haven’t—” my words are cut off as I get pulled harshly towards him.

  “You’ve been sharing my pussy with other men, you fucking whore.”

  I think about Ewan, the guy Taylor’s been seeing who walked me home after turning up in the same bar earlier tonight. Does Jake really think I brought him home?

  “Ugh,” I grunt as my body hits the wall with a thud.

  Jake is still shouting, spitting at me with each vile word, but the only thing I can focus on is the blinding pain in my shoulder where it just collided with the brickwork of our hallway.

  “Argh…Jake...stop. I haven’t—”

  I’m suddenly flying through the air like a rag doll. The pain of my back hitting the stairs is unbelievable, and when my head smacks down on one concrete step I swear I hear a crack before everything goes black for a few seconds. I roll down the last few stairs until I am laid out on the landing. I’m aware that I’m screaming, vaguely aware that my neighbours in the other flats on this floor could hear me and come to my rescue. The second I open my eyes and see him leering down at me, I shut my mouth. I know it’s no good. I’m about to experience the full force that is a drug-filled, alcohol-fuelled, angry Jake.

  “Fucking whore,” he says again before he jolts towards me.

  I roll onto my side, clutching at my stomach, hoping that I can do something to ease the excruciating pain. It’s all consuming. I’ve never felt anything like it.

  I lift my hand when I feel something run down my fingers and sheer panic rushes through me when I see my hand is covered in blood. My blood.

  I’m going to die here. Alone and in the hallway of my building.

  I’m fading in and out, alternating between the spinning vision of the stairwell in front of me and the blackness that keeps taking over my body. I like the blackness. The pain and the memories of the last few moments disappear when that comes.

  When I come to again, a ringing sound gets my attention, and after a few seconds I remember putting my phone in my back pocket before answering the door. I feel a rush of relief as I realise that I might not die here after all.

  My arm feels like lead as I try to move it to grab my phone. I’m moving so slow that the ringing stops and my panic starts to set in again. What if I can’t get to it?

  Thankfully, the person trying to get hold of me rings again, and it gives me a renewed sense of strength. I try with everything my weakening body has to get to it.

  When I eventually pull it in front of my face I’m not even a little surprised to see who it is. He will know something is wrong; he will always be there to help me.

  “Lilly, what’s wrong?” Dec shouts down the line when I answer.

  “Ambulance,” I whisper.

  “What, I can’t hear you.” The panic in his voice is increasing with every word.

  I take a moment to find the energy to talk.

  “Ambulance. My flat.”

  “Fuck, Lilly, what’s happened? Are you okay? FUCK,” he screams into the phone.

  “Don’t tell Mum and Dad. Need you,” is the last thing I remember saying before everything goes black again.

  I’m suddenly awake, sweating and panting. I push my wet hair off my face and will my heart to slow down. I pat my bed, reminding myself that I’m safe and everything is fine. My hand finds its way to rest on the scar on my stomach and I begin to sob, just like I do every time I wake up this way.

  It isn’t just a dream. It’s a nightmare.

  Chapter One

  Lilly

  “Roxanne’s been sacked for unacceptable behaviour, so…” my boss says as she looks at all of us.

  I glance to the side to see the same apprehensive look on my colleagues’ faces that I’m sure I have. No one wants their name to be said next.

  “Lilly, you’ve been here the longest, so you get to clean the King’s lair. Stay behind and I’ll go through everything with you.”

  I say goodbye to my usual work mates, Imogen and Eve, and await my fate.

  I’ve been working mornings cleaning at the hotel since I started uni and discovered most days I don’t have to go in until the afternoon. It’s the perfect opportunity to earn some money so I’m not sponging off Mum and Dad. They’ve done enough, buying the flat Taylor and I live in. I don’t want to take any more from them.

  I mostly love it. I say mostly, because you wouldn’t believe the state we find the rooms in some days. And some of the things people bring to a hotel and leave out for the cleaners beggars belief. That being said, it does mean we have some very entertaining mornings!

  I watch everyone else leave and follow Hillary towards her office. I spend the next ten minutes listening to what I already know. Mr. Dalton, the hotel’s manager, has very particular tastes and expects things not only to be done his way but also to perfection, hence so many cleaners have come and gone before me. I think the longest one has lasted since Mr. Dalton took over here is two months. I’ve got no hope. I’ll be the first person to say that my cleaning standards aren’t up to scratch for his requirements.

  “Can you just read through this and sign please, Lilly?”

  I look down at the paperwork Hilary has just pushed over and my chin drops. I always thought it was a rumour that any cleaner that entered the King’s lair, as we’ve all nicknamed it, has to sign an NDA. I mean seriously, what are we likely to find? Let alone tell the world
about?

  I quickly scan over the paperwork and sign without much thought. I have no intention of spreading whatever gossip Mr. Dalton is worried about around the place. All I really want to do is my job, although that job has just got a million times harder.

  “You could look a little more excited, Lilly. You get to work in the best room in the hotel,” Hilary says, trying to focus on the positives.

  “Yeah, but how long for? Denise was the best cleaner we’ve had for years and she was gone after two months. I don’t stand a chance.” Not only does Mr. Dalton have immaculate taste—I would say bordering on OCD where cleaning’s concerned—he is young and drop dead gorgeous. Not my type, but still gorgeous. Add his obvious wealth to that and his reputation as a ladies’ man, and some of the women around here have issues containing themselves.

  Like I said, he’s hot, but so not for me. He always looks perfect, not a single slicked back piece of hair out of place and not a speck of dust on his sharp suits. I like my men a little more rough around the edges. I want a tattooed bad boy who is actually the biggest sweetheart ever under all the ink and the scruffy, brooding image.

  I let out a huge breath as I follow Hilary to the penthouse. I thought I’d found all those things in Jake, until he found drugs and alcohol.

  I try to shake off my depressing thoughts as we wait for the lift to take us higher. I promised myself I was going to fight it. I’m moving on with my life, putting that waste of space behind me.

  It takes over an hour for Hilary to go through everything: exactly how he prefers his towels to be folded, the order he expects the bottles on his vanity unit to be in, and the perfect little point on the toilet roll…and that’s just the bathroom. Apparently, I’ve even got to line the remote controls up a certain way on his coffee table. It’s utterly insane. By the time she leaves me to it, my head is spinning with everything I’ve got to remember so I still have a job this time tomorrow.

  I clean everything in the bathroom twice then triple check everything is in the correct position before attempting the rest of the suite. The chances of me making it to uni this afternoon are slim to none. I’m going to be here for hours. I just hope I get used to his quirks fast so I can speed this whole process up slightly.

  I’ve dusted the coffee table and arranged the remote controls exactly as I was shown when my phone rings. I shouldn’t really have it on me, but after everything that happened with Jake, I like to have it to hand at all times. It’s like my security blanket. I also shouldn’t really have black jeans on either, but there we go. Typical that today of all days is the one I forgot to wash my usual black trousers. I’m just hoping the King doesn’t appear while I’m still here because being out of the standard uniform is sure to push his buttons.

  I pull it from my back pocket as I fall back on the sofa. The second I see it’s a text from Connie, my stomach does a little flip. I immediately unlock my phone and open the message. My eyes start to well up immediately, because staring back at me is not only my smiling friend but a tiny baby wrapped in a blue blanket. Under the photo it says Noah Fredrick Willis, 7lb 6oz, born at 06.33 on 14th February.

  I’m so happy for Connie and Fin, I really am, but as my first tear hits the phone screen I can’t help feeling hollow.

  I zoom in on his little face. His eyes are shut tight, he’s got a cute little button nose and full lips. He’s Fin’s son, that’s for sure.

  I drop the phone into my lap and rest my head back on the sofa. I’m so jealous of Connie right now and I hate that I feel that way, but I can’t help it. I’m desperate to experience what she is right now. I’d give anything to have the chance.

  My phone ringing interrupts my depressing thoughts. I pull my head up and look down at the screen.

  It’s Molly, my unofficial sister. She knows I’m at work, so wouldn’t call unless it was important.

  “Hello,” I say as cheerfully as possible when I put the phone to my ear.

  “Lilly, what’s wrong?” So that was successful, then.

  “Nothing. Connie just sent me a photo of her and the baby and I got a little emotional.”

  “Oh my God,” Molly squeals, “Connie’s given birth?”

  “Yeah. I thought that was why you were ringing, to tell me.”

  “No, I’ve got other news. What did she have?”

  I go on to tell her all I know. “So what did you have to tell me?”

  “You will not believe what Daniel’s done,” she exclaims.

  “Go on.” Knowing Molly’s brother, it could be anything.

  “He whisked Beth back off to Paris and proposed on the Eiffel Tower. I just got a photo of the two of them still up there with her wearing this massive rock on her finger. And when I say massive, I mean it’s fucking huge, Lills.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing,” I say, trying to muster up as much happiness as I can. Because just like Connie, it’s not that I’m not happy for them. I’m ecstatic that Daniel’s found someone. I just feel like everyone is moving on with their lives. All this amazing stuff is happening to them but I’m stuck. I’m fighting every day to pull myself out of the pits of hell while everyone around me is enjoying everything life is throwing at them. I feel like I’m still lying in my stairwell six months ago, wondering if I’m going to survive.

  I just about manage to get Molly off the phone before I completely break down. Dec, my twin brother, is the only member of my family that knows what happened last summer. Everyone I love has been through so much in the last couple of years with losing my older sister, Hannah, that I kept everything from them. Dec wasn’t happy with my decision, but he stuck by me.

  I’m unattractively sobbing on the sofa when I suddenly hear a throat clearing behind me. I jump up from my seat in panic and turn around to see who’s walked in.

  My eyes run from his spotlessly polished shoes, up his perfectly pressed trousers and over his waistcoat and crisp shirt until I reach his eyes. They are dark and staring daggers at me. His glare renders me motionless but my heart starts to race. A huge part of me wants to run, run as far away and as fast as I can from this situation. I’ve barely had this promotion two hours and I’ve already screwed it up.

  I square my shoulders and stand up. I wipe the tears from my cheeks with the backs of my hands as I wait for the ear bashing I’m about to get for slacking on the job.

  Only it doesn’t come.

  His eyes start of hard and vicious but as the seconds tick by they begin to soften as he continues to stare at me. I must be mistaken though, because there is nothing about the man stood in front of me that’s soft. He’s a ruthless businessman who tramples on anyone who gets in his way. I have no reason to suspect he’s going to go gentle on me just because I’ve shed a few tears. I raise my chin slightly to him as I prepare for him to tear a strip off me.

  He opens his mouth to say something but what comes out shocks the hell out of me. “Are you okay?” There is no harsh demanding tone. Instead, there’s concern. Weird.

  “I’m…uh…” I stutter because this is so unexpected. I thought I’d already be on my way home with my P45 in my hand by now. “I’m fine. I just received some news and I…” I don’t continue, because I realise that he really doesn’t care; he’s just trying to be kind and I appreciate that, but I’m here to do a job. “I’ll just get on with it,” I say, gesturing to the room.

  I pick up my phone and go to walk past him. I don’t make eye contact. I’m scared he’ll return to his usual self once I get back to work.

  I’m frozen to the spot when he moves and clamps his hand around my wrist. I daren’t look up at him because I don’t know what I might find looking back at me—and also because he really doesn’t need to see the fresh tears in my eyes.

  “If you need to go and have some time…”

  I’m so shocked by his words that my eyes snap up to his. Close up, they look bluer than I thought.

  “It…it’s fine, honestly.” My voice quivers, showing that I’m anything but fine really.r />
  “Well, if you’re sure,” he says hesitantly. I can only presume that being in the presence of an emotional woman isn’t the norm for him.

  He holds my eye contact and I’m powerless to look away. There are only inches between us. I’m surrounded by his scent and his kindness touches me. Then I do something so unlike me and so utterly stupid that I can’t even comprehend it.

  I lean forward and kiss him. I actually kiss him!

  I pull back the second my lips touch his, like I’ve been burned. What the hell am I doing?

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter before rushing out of the room.

  My heart’s pounding and I’m sweating from running the short distance from the hotel to my flat. I rush up the stairs and through the living room before landing face down on my bed. I scream into my pillow to release my frustration and anger at myself for my appalling behaviour. I scream until the tears take over, then I sob for what feels like hours. I cry sad tears for what I had, for what has been taken from me. I cry happy tears for Daniel and Beth, then some more for Connie, Fin and little Noah. Connie and I have become close friends over the last few months while I helped with her and Fin’s house renovations. Connie’s best friend is my older sister, Emma, and Fin is Emma’s husband’s best friend. It’s all a bit close and complicated, but it’s safe to say I’m jealous of all of them. I know I’m only young and I’ve got all the time in the world, but knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better. It doesn’t even matter when I do find ‘the one’; the chances of me having my own family are slim to none now, thanks the Jake.