Drawn to You: Volume 1: The Prequel (Millionaire's Row Book 5)

by Vanessa Booke

  Try as I may, I can’t ignore the feeling that her hand naturally fits mine—it’s just a little too right.

  “My name is Emily,” she offers, with a blush.

  My Lily Pad.

  FIVE

  Emily

  ‘Emily, you’re always such a good girl.’ Ceci’s words replay in my mind as I stare up at the stranger walking so closely beside me. He ushers us through the crowd never letting my hand go, despite the cluster of people standing in our way. It’s strange to say I feel a connection to someone I’ve just met, but I do with him. There’s something about the way he touches me that sets my skin on fire. Although I know it can’t be true, it feels familiar in a way.

  His long dark hair hangs just shy of his collar as it sits pushed black in one long swoop of gel. From the length of it, I can guess that he isn’t used to having it slicked back. It’s easy to imagine him wearing it down like some heavy metal singer from the eighties with leather pants and a black tee. He would look good in leather pants. Too good.

  Now I’m glad that Ceci decided not to follow me when I left for some fresh air. My best friend has a knack for seducing men and women. Some are even twice her age. Fortunately for me, she’s on her best behavior tonight. At least so far. I look up to find the handsome waiter staring at me. His face looks incredibly familiar, but I can’t put my finger on when I’ve seen him before. Perhaps I saw him waiting at another party.

  “Do you work at the hotel?” I ask as I try to fill the silence.

  “No, I’m just here for tonight.”

  I wince as he runs my finger underneath hot water and warmth spreads through my body as his leg brushes mine. The employee bathroom doesn’t give us much space to move, especially when it isn’t any bigger than a broom closet. I focus my attention on his hands hoping to calm my fluttering heart. I watch him as he meticulously wraps a small piece of gauze around my palm. His hand smoothly moves the cloth across my skin and the mere touch sends a shiver down my body.

  He looks up as if noticing my reaction, and I feel the air slowly sucked out of the room. His finger brushes across the top of my hand with familiarity. Several seconds pass in silence, as the tension in the room grows thicker.

  “So you never told me your name,” I say.

  Unfortunately, talking to guys is not on my skills list. Even Ceci would agree. A look of disappointment crosses his face as he contemplates my question. Did he already tell me his name and I forgot?

  “It’s Tristan.”

  Tristan? The name rolls over me like cold water filtering through my veins. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name. A very long time. I bite back a gasp at the realization of who he is. Tristan Knight. Our Tristan. The last person that I ever thought I would see here. He looks different from what I remember. His once scrawny features are not replaced by thick muscles and a rugged jawline.

  “Are you here with someone?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  The unusual question catches me off guard.

  “Someone?”

  “You look too young to be here on your own,” he says, wrapping a piece of surgical tape around my finger. The touch of his hand sends a hot streak over my body and to my center.

  “I’m sixteen,” I reply.

  He pauses for a moment and looks down at me. The gesture pulls my gaze to the suit that he’s wearing. I didn’t notice it at first, but there’s something about the smoke color that brings out the green in his hazel eyes.

  “Only sixteen?”

  “Yes,” I laugh. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one,” he smiles.

  “I see.”

  “It’s such a pity…” he begins to say.

  “What?”

  “That I can’t kiss you.”

  SIX

  TRISTAN

  The shocked look on Emily’s face makes my lips itch to follow through with my jest. I don’t know why I said it, but the thought of kissing her was the first thing that flew out of my mouth. As much as I would like to think that it isn’t true, I’d be a fucking liar. In fact, I feel like a fucking pervert for even saying it. She’s sixteen. Even the idea of other men looking at her that way would make me crazy. Who am I kidding? I’d punch the fucker that got near her. Christ. Seeing her makes me feel out of control.

  I haven’t spoken to her these past four years and now here I am, acting like a little school boy as I trip over my thoughts. I need to focus. I’m not here to reconcile my relationship with them. I’m here to confront Stefan about my mother and that’s it. Perhaps I’d feel better if I punched him in the face. Maybe then I could move on.

  “We should get back to the party,” I suggest.

  “Do you really not know who I am?”

  A look of disappointment crosses her face as she brushes back a strand of her hair. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure she remembered me. Maybe I was making those years with the StoneHaven family a bigger deal than they were. After all, I was just part of the help. It didn’t seem like it back then, but maybe I was kidding myself. Perhaps they spent time with me because they couldn’t find anyone else to entertain them. I can’t think of any other reason why they didn’t come looking for me.

  “Because I remember you,” she says as she grabs my hand. “We missed you when you left. I couldn’t believe it those first few days…”

  Guilt racks its way into my chest as she purses her lips and carefully studies my face, looking for any hint of recognition. I need to get the hell out of here. I can’t do this. Coming here was a mistake. I didn’t think I would feel this way seeing her. Her beautiful smile is an ugly reminder of everything I lost. Now, the only thing I have to go home to is a dumpy apartment and a sick mother.

  “I need to get back to my shift.”

  “Wait!”

  I step around her and return to the party just in time to catch sight of Nicholas nudging Alexander’s shoulder. I slow my step just to capture the image of them in my mind. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they laugh together clinking their glasses of champagne. I wince at the realization that they’re going on with their lives just fine without me while I’m barely holding myself together. Just like my mother. The thought leaves me breathlessly in pain. I scan the room for Vivian, but she’s nowhere in sight. Fuck it. I’ll apologize to her later.

  Stefan’s voice calls out to me as I’m halfway across the ballroom floor. The conversations of his guests die down to a murmur as he walks over to me. I keep my back to him hoping that I can still slip outside without causing a commotion, but I know it’s too late.

  “Tristan, stop.”

  I’m tempted to tell him to go fuck himself, but I hold myself back at the sight of Emily entering the room. Her cheeks turn red as she rushes over to me, her hand still wrapped in gauze. Fuck it all to hell. I turn to find a gray haired Stefan staring at me with wide eyes. His gaze washes over me as he grinds the end of his cigar on a nearby ashtray and walks past a gawking crowd. I step back in reaction as he comes closer. Even my body is telling me to put space between us. Although it really doesn’t matter the amount of space I put between us because it seems it will never be enough to forget him.

  If I ever needed a cigarette, right now would be the perfect time.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  I’m sure he never thought he’d see me again. I’m tempted to make a fool of myself and knock him in his teeth, but I can’t seem to muster the strength with everyone watching. God, this is so fucked up. I force myself to remember the image of my mother lying passed out on the bed after I helped bathe her and the way she cried out for Stefan when I burned the newspaper article with his name.

  “I was just leaving,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Son, wait.”

  I’m not your son, you fucking shit. My fists clench at the way the word son rolls off his tongue. He reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I dodge his grasp. His face turns red in frustration as I stand there trying my best to look
completely unaffected by the frown plastered to his face. I’m sure he hates being embarrassed in front of his guests. I spot Vivian maneuvering through the crowd of people still holding her silver tray. She’s far enough away that I can’t hear her, but I see her waving stop at me through the air. If I get in a fight with Stefan now, I’m sure she’ll be fired for recommending me to do this gig.

  “Is this how you treat someone who helped you?” Stefan asks, pulling my attention.

  “Helped?” I scoff.

  “Wait, what?” Alexander, Emily’s eldest brother, steps through the crowd of onlookers and joins his father’s side. “Dad, maybe we should take this outside.”

  I was never close to Alex, but it was probably the differences in age growing up. He was almost never home when he was away at college and when he was, he didn’t even have much time to hang out with his own siblings.

  “I think it’s time for me to go.”

  “Tristan, wait,” Emily squeaks. She fidgets with her dress staring past me as the words tumbled from her beautiful lips. “Stay. You’ve been so missed.”

  Nicholas’s frown lightens as a small smile breaks across his face. He steps forward, hesitating just slightly before he pulls me into an embrace.

  “Where have you been?” he asks. “High school wasn’t the same without you.” The surprising gesture sucks the tension that radiates beneath my skin as I return the embrace.

  “You should ask your father.”

  “Dad said you and your mom moved out of state. Something about finding another job somewhere.”

  A feeling of nausea passes over me. Moved? That’s the last thing I would call it. “Your dad lied,” I answer bitterly.

  “What?” Nicholas says.

  “He’s been lying to you,” I say.

  Nicholas turns back to Stefan with a confused look on his face.

  “What is he talking about?”

  I turn to leave, unwilling to watch the train wreck behind me. I need to get the fuck out of here. Now.

  “Tristan, don’t leave,” Stefan calls out.

  SEVEN

  EMILY

  My father’s voice sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking as he tries to grab hold of Tristan. The scene in front of me is enough to send me over the edge. I feel hot tears sliding down my cheeks as the venomous words shot from Tristan’s mouth. The hate that had spewed from him leaves me reeling in shock. Where is the loving and tender person that I used to know when I was little?

  “Dad, let him go. He obviously doesn’t want to talk to us,” Alexander says.

  Where has Tristan been all of this time? I keep asking myself the same question as I stare at his closed off expression. To my surprise, Alex steps forward and pulls my father to the side. He keeps his voice low, but I hear him talking about the crowd of guests watching us like zoo animals in cages. I’m sure any media at the event are salivating like hyenas over the scene we’re making. I watch my father hand Tristan a crisp eggshell colored business card with gold lettering that reads Stefan Isaac StoneHaven, CEO of StoneHaven Publishing.

  “If you don’t have plans for the Fourth of July, I hope you’ll consider joining us at our home,” he says before turning and heading back to the crowd of gaping guests. I watch as my brother, Alexander, does his best to do damage control with the flutter of photographers nearby. Eventually, my reluctant father heads back toward his guests while acting as if nothing happened.

  “I’m going to assume from your silence that you don’t have any plans,” Nicholas asks Tristan with a polite smile.

  “Nick, I think your family’s house is the last place I should be.”

  A look of despair washes over Tristan’s face as he studies the sleek card in his hand. Despite his outburst, I can’t help but feel like he wants to be here with us, or he wouldn’t still be standing here.

  “Perfect, then you’ll join us for dinner. I’ll have our driver pick you up next Friday at five p.m.,” Nicholas says. “Just text me your address.”

  “You’re not listening,” Tristan says, looking up at him.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure we can fix this. I just want my best friend back.”

  “Please, come, Tristan,” I beg.

  Nicholas squeezes my shoulder to console me, but I feel the air leave my lungs as I watch Tristan leave. All of this time, I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t ever see him again. After the first few years, it started to feel like I had made the entire memory of him up. Nicholas stopped talking about him after my father told him he left with his mother and that he wasn’t coming back. I know Nicholas was angry that Tristan didn’t bother telling him that he was leaving.

  I just can’t believe he was in so close to us all this time.

  “What do we do now?” I ask Nick.

  “Tristan just has some shit to figure out.”

  Nicholas’s words are meant to sound reassuring, but instead, I get the feeling that he isn’t so sure himself that Tristan’s coming back.

  EIGHT

  TRISTAN

  The Fourth of July is my favorite holiday. It’s one of the few days where it isn’t a complete pain in the ass to walk down the street in New York City. With over 5 million residents leaving to celebrate out of town, it’s like having the Big Apple all to myself. For the past four years, I’ve spent each Fourth of July walking through Central Park and sketching the random visitors and bums that seem to find their way there. It’s one of the few things I find entertaining and free.

  This year might be the first Fourth of July I don’t spend alone. The last holiday my mother and I actually celebrated was our first Christmas in our apartment. It was three months after we left the StoneHaven’s and it was also the first Christmas I spent cleaning up after my mother.

  At seventeen, you don’t expect to have to become the adult in the relationship. It was already bad enough that I had to drop out of high school, get my GED, and start working. That’s how I met my friend Vivian. She worked at a bar next to the Pleasure Chest. I used to pass it on the way home from the library in Manhattan. It was a great place for digging up fries from their trash. The first time Vivian caught me, she brought me out a burger and told me to come back later. When I came back the next night, she had a job for me as a bus boy.

  My mother enters the kitchen holding the butt of an old cigarette that looks like it was found between the cushions of the couch. She rubs the matted spots of hair against her head and takes a seat at the kitchen breakfast bar to smoke. I wince at the sight of the dark bags under her eyes. They add at least ten years to her face. Maybe it’s better that I don’t leave her alone again tonight. A few days ago, I stayed out late to play at the Pleasure Chest and when I got home, the front door was wide open. My mother seems to be forgetting simple things like closing doors and windows. Thankfully, we don’t really have anything to steal.

  “Mom, would you like to go out today?” I ask hopefully.

  “No.”

  “It’ll be quiet. We can go to a museum…”

  “I think I’ll stay here.”

  “All right,” I say, giving up. “I’ll be back tonight. I’m just going to go out for a few hours.”

  She walks over and briefly kisses my cheek before quickly retreating to the bedroom. After a few moments, I hear the blinds in the room close and the sound of the bedsprings compressing together. She must be going to sleep again. I’m starting to doubt that mother will even notice I’m gone.

  NINE

  TRISTAN

  After a long cab ride over, I finally arrive at the all too familiar limestone mansion the StoneHaven family calls home. The size of the house is bigger than I remember. Black wrought iron gates surround the home sectioning it off from the outside world. When I was younger, I was told it was one of the original mansions on Fifth Avenue. I must admit the handful of houses beside it pale in comparison to its architectural magnitude. I’m sure even the most esteemed architectural engineer would agree.

&nbs
p; I spot a row of flashy cars that line the street leading up to the house. I recognize each one from the car magazines they leave stowed in the bathrooms at the Pleasure Chest. I wouldn’t be surprised if just one could pay our rent for several years.

  As I arrive at the front door, the sun finally begins to set behind the vanilla pink summer sky that surrounds it in an amber glow. Despite the pent up anger I’ve felt these past years, I find my nerves getting the better of me as I pause to take in my reasons for coming here. Why am I nervous? I rub my hands against my pants as they begin to sweat.

  At the door, the sight of one of Stefan’s maids greets me. My stomach spirals as she smiles and happily ushers me into the house. Dark thoughts filter their way through my mind as I watch her. I can’t help but wonder if Stefan’s stopped his old ways or if he’s somehow involved with her, too.

  We step into the foyer and then we pass the spiraling staircase as we head toward the dining room section of the house. The inside is just as I remember it with its marble floors and cherry wood furnishings.

  “You’re here,” a voice calls out.

  A petite woman with raven hair and green eyes walks up to me. She’s holding a plate of cookies in her hands. Her thin lips curve into a smirk as she eyes my faded jeans and ripped up Depeche Mode t-shirt. There’s a certain haughtiness about her that tells me she doesn’t let people like me into her house. I’ve come to terms that much like my worn out clothes, I’m just another piece of filth that permanently litters this city to them.

  “Hello.”

  “You must be…”

  “Tristan.”

  A flicker of irritation crosses her face as I extend my hand. She doesn’t even remember me or at least she sure as hell is pretending like she doesn’t. She turns, completely ignoring my hand as she heads down the hall.