The White Chapel: Book 2 in the Steamy New Adult Contemporary Romance Series (The Chapel Series)

by Marilyn Cruise

  Contents

  The White Chapel

  Copyright Page

  Other Books

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  The White Chapel

  Marilyn Cruise

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations

  and events portrayed in this novel are either products of

  the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  First Edition Feb. 02, 2015

  ISBN-13: 978-1508457169

  ISBN-10: 1508457166

  Ebook ISBN: 9781311230973

  Copyright © 2015 Marilyn Cruise

  All rights reserved.

  Other books by Marilyn Cruise

  The Black Chapel

  Book 1 in the Chapel Series

  Now Available

  The Everlasting Chapel

  Book 3 in the Chapel Series

  Now Available

  Way Too Far

  Coming Soon

  1

  I wake up in my bed feeling like a truck has just run over me. My eyes are swollen, and my pillow is still moist from all the tears. It takes me a half a moment, but then it all comes back to me like a tsunami of fire. Did I really just end it forever this time?

  Yes, I did.

  My heart feels like it’s about to implode, my stomach like it might turn itself inside out.

  But then I remember why I did it. Michael and I aren’t good for each other. For starters, we both have the inability to be completely honest about things, and I can just see a future with him as a complete disaster as one lie after another slowly annihilates any and all trust between us. Around every turn I’ll always be wondering if he is cheating on me, and I’ll constantly be feeling guilty because I can’t be open with him about things I struggle with, like lying about who I am and what I did in the past. It tears me apart though, because I…fuck. I really care about this man!

  But we have a truckload of issues. Another thing is, I don’t want to continue on this road I have started. I’ve lied to my father for six long months since taking the job as a stripper, and every time I see him, the guilt grows a little more, festering in my gut like a wicked little devil. I thought it would become easier to lie as time went on—but no. It has only become much harder, because, the lies keep multiplying around every turn.

  Michael on the other hand, it seems this is the way he is, like it’s part of his nature. Not only is he cheating on me with…well, the stripper me, he is also lying to his dying mother just so he can get his hands on the inheritance. What I don’t understand is, he is a highly successful businessman who has everything he needs. Why does he go to such lengths to get more?

  And what’s worse, he’s dragged me into this and now I’m part of that despicable deal. I actually willingly said yes to it. What does that say about me?

  Well, at least I’ve never done this before, but now…since I met him, I just got deeper and deeper in this lying shit.

  I have to stop this.

  I have stopped this.

  I ended it. I…oh, God!

  I cup my hand over my mouth and let out a long sob. Catching a glimpse of the engagement ring on my finger, I pause, remembering the moment he pretend proposed to me in front of his entire family. This is so messed up. Everything is a goddamn lie! I’m glad I put an end to this madness before it completely destroyed me. It was the right thing to do.

  But if ending it was the right thing to do then why is it so hard? Why does it feel as if my insides are being torn apart and my life is coming to an end?

  With a heavy heart, I slide the rock off my finger and put it on top of the nightstand next to my bed. I refuse to wear something that does nothing other than remind me of how I can’t seem to make a single intelligent decision for my life.

  After another twenty minutes of gut-wrenching sobs, I drag my ass out of bed and take a long, hot shower. I have got to pull myself together. I keep repeating to myself that ending it was a mature decision and I need to and am fully capable of getting a grip on these destructive emotions fast.

  Once I’ve dressed in a pair of dark skinny jeans and a white sweater, I crack open my laptop to search for a cancer treatment center for my father. I don’t want to go to the one we visited before. They denied us treatment since we didn’t have the funds available, and Michael had mentioned something about another center.

  While searching, an email shows up in my inbox. I click on it, and to my great dismay, I see that there’s another email from Michael to Samantha.

  Fucking unbelievable.

  Does that man have nothing else on his mind other than sex? Oh, dear lord. Sex…with Michael. Just thinking about it makes my insides turn into a ball of burning desire.

  Stop, Scarlett! I scold myself. I cannot and will not do this anymore. I have to get him out of my head and move on. I’m not a child anymore, just acting on the whims of my emotions isn’t an option. But his strong hands on me, his tongue, his amazing…oh…everything.

  I bite my lip. It wasn’t that it was just so amazing. It was that in my entire life, I’ve never given myself to a man so completely, so fully in that way. He made me feel like the sexiest woman alive, and so wanted. He brought the confidence out in me, and every time I was around him, I felt so at ease, that I could be me, that I could give him all of me. I felt like I had come home. It was freeing and absolutely amazing to experience that, and part of me is terrified I’ll never find that again.

  But, damn reason tells me that he is not the one for me. If I continue down this crazy path, and it is crazier than shit, I will only stoop lower and become a person I don’t want to be. He’s a liar. A cheater. And I can no longer pretend like he isn’t. I just need to see the deal through, and then all will be well. If I can just hang on a little longer…it’s just another few weeks and we’ll be married and divorced, and I’ll have what I need to live my life comfortably. Hell, way more than comfortably. I’ll be a billionaire.

  Not wanting to read the email from the cheater to the stripper, I close the laptop.

  I head downstairs and dial Anne’s number to wish her a Merry Christmas. She picks up after three rings.

  “Merry Christmas, beautiful!” I say.

  “Scarlett! I’m so glad to hear from you. How are you?”

  Tears spring to my eyes at the sound of her voice. It’s amazing how when you have a close friend and they ask you how you’re doing you can’t just pretend everything is okay.

  “I’m…okay.” I force a smile to my lips, hoping she’ll somehow notice my lips rising upward through the phone.

  “Oh, no. What is it?” she asks.

  Well, it was worth a try. I start to sob.

  “Scarlett, sweet thing, tell me,” she pleads.

  I sniffle. “I guess I just finally realized that it’s not going to work between Michael and me.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry to hear that, honey.” Her voice is full of compassion. “Was it because you told him you were…you know, Samantha?”

  “No, I couldn’t bring myself to.” I sniffle and wipe away the tears cascading down my face. “I need that money for my father, and if I tell Michael…” I can�
��t even finish the sentence.

  “You think he’ll pull the deal,” she says. “Yeah. Well, you’re in a real pickle, I can tell you that.” She pauses for a second as if hesitating about telling me something. “Tell me honestly, though. Did you sleep with him?”

  Dammit, she knows me all too well. She can probably hear it in my voice. Should I tell her? I decide to be truthful. “Yes.”

  “Oh, hell. And do I even need to ask how the sex was?” she asks.

  “It was amazing. I mean, I never even realized I’d never had an orgasm.” I manage to let out a laugh.

  She laughs out loud. “Finally!”

  “But…now…”

  “Okay, listen. I’m really sorry, but I don’t have much time. Do you want the sympathetic me to just listen, or do you want to hear what I really think?” she says.

  “I…the honest you,” I cry, wiping another tear.

  “Okay, here goes. You’re over-thinking this, Scarlett. Take a step back and look where you are. You’ve had a hot guy fuck your brains out, you’ve had your first of many orgasms to come, and you’re going to be a billionaire soon…”

  “But…” Somehow in my crazy shit brain, I thought I could figure out how to keep both Michael and the deal. I don’t know what I was thinking.

  “Sweetie, just keep your head on straight. If it’s meant to be between you two, it will all work out. And girl, with all that money, you never have to rely on a guy ever again.”

  Okay. I’m going to go with that because she’s right. I just have to trust that everything will be alright in the end. I mean, there are billions of men out there. Michael can’t be the only one I’d ever fall in love with.

  Wait.

  In love with? No, I’m not there yet. Wait, shit. I don’t know. I’m so confused. All I know is that I want so much more of him and that I don’t want it to end.

  “You’re a strong woman, Scarlett, and any man would be the luckiest guy on earth if he ended up with you. He’s the idiot for not seeing that,” she says.

  “But I’m like a slut,” I whine.

  “Stop degrading yourself. You are not a slut in the least. What—you’ve had sex with like two guys ever?” she says.

  True. I’m just awfulizing.

  “You did the best you could under the circumstances given to you,” she says. “Not every daughter would have taken a lowly job like you did so she could keep her parents’ house and pay for her father’s chemo. That’s why you’re so amazing, Scarlett, and that’s why I look up to you so much.”

  I pause. “You do?” I ask in disbelief.

  “So much more than you know.”

  I laugh a little. “How come you always know what to say?” I ask, feeling a little better just for having spoken to her for a few minutes.

  She says, “Let’s just say I’ve been around the block a few times, and what I’ve found is that no matter how black everything looks, it all works out in the end.”

  “Thanks.” I walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. “So what are you doing today?” I ask, feeling a little guilty for having dumped on her and not having taken the time to see how she’s doing.

  “Well, I was going to tell you this earlier, but…my parents invited me home for a few days. I’ve been here since yesterday, and I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  Last time she spoke to her parents, they said they never wanted to see Anne ever again because they thought she had been sleeping around when she became pregnant.

  The justice system is so unfair sometimes. Instead of believing Anne, they let the guy who raped her and left her pregnant go. Not enough evidence, the jury said, and as far as they could tell, the sex had been consensual. Her parents inviting her home again is huge. I just hope she doesn’t end up brokenhearted again like she did before when they kicked her out.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dud friend that I didn’t ask earlier. Are they…treating you well?” I ask.

  “Well, let’s just say it’s a start,” she says with a sigh.

  I hear the struggle in her voice, as if she’s holding back the tears.

  “I’m really happy for you, Anne. I hope it works out.” I’m just about to ask if she visited the family who adopted her daughter, but she speaks first.

  “Well, we’re going to my uncle’s house in Orlando, so I have to run. But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay.”

  “Okay. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

  “I promise,” she says.

  “Hey, and thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime. Merry Christmas.”

  “To you, too.”

  I hang up the phone and go upstairs. After I’ve washed and folded three loads of laundry, I can no longer put off reading the email from Michael to Samantha. I hop onto my bed and open the laptop, my heart pounding against my ribs.

  From: MM@ManningRE.com

  Subject: Merry Christmas to you too!

  Date: 12.25.2013 Time: 9:01 a.m.

  _______________________________

  Samantha,

  I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, and if I don’t hear from you, a very Happy New Year.

  Sincerely,

  Michael Manning

  _______________________________

  Wow, that was tame. No sexual offers of anything? He really is bad at this hiring a stripper thing if that’s what he’s trying to do. Then a ridiculous thought comes to me. Should I write him back? Shit, why do I torture myself? I fall back into the pillows and press my palms to my still slightly swollen eyes. It would be very unwise to continue any contact with Michael, even with—hell—especially as Samantha. But oh… his hands on me, his intoxicating kisses, his dirty mouth.

  I miss him.

  All of him.

  Maybe I can have the best of both worlds. Maybe I can just keep him a while longer, let Samantha string him on, and when the time comes to truly let him go, it won’t be as difficult or as sudden.

  From: Samanthatbc88@yahoo.com

  Subject: Merry Christmas Sexy!

  Date: 12.25.2013 Time: 11:12 a.m.

  _______________________________

  Dear Mr. Manning,

  I’m sorry I haven’t responded to your emails. I’ve been in the hospital, seeking treatment. But don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.

  I hope this email finds you well. While in the hospital, I had a lot of time to reconsider your offer. I’d love to meet with you again. I too have been thinking about you, and I would love to meet you in The Sanctuary for a great time. I can come in today even, if you’d like and want to see me.

  XOXO Samantha

  _______________________________

  I press the send button and wait. He’ll never go for today. He’s got a bunch of family commitments. But maybe in a few days.

  When there’s no reply, I head outside and check the mail. It’s been a while since I’ve emptied the mailbox, and I might have missed a few Christmas cards from our extended family. At the mailbox, I pick up a pile of letters and cards, and once back inside, I start to open them. Then I hear that ping, notifying me I’ve received an email. My stomach flutters.

  I run upstairs as fast as I can, my heart in my throat, and sit down on my bed with the laptop on my lap.

  From: MM@ManningRE.com

  Subject: Merry Christmas to you too!

  Date: 12.25.2013 Time: 11:20 a.m.

  ______________________________

  Samantha,

  I am pleasantly surprised and delighted to get an email from you. I must admit, I thought you’d never contact me, and I was quite upset thinking that I’d never have the chance to see you again.

  Having said that, though, I do appreciate your willingness to see me. But I have moved on. I wish you the best of luck in the future, and I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,

  Sincerely, Michael

  _______________________________

  I frown. Rejected? I smile. Could it be that by saying he’s moved on that
he’s…? No. Don’t even think about it, Scarlett. I wish he had expounded on his email a little more.

  Should I email him back? Invite him a little more…seductively? See if he really has moved on? Yes. Oh, God. I hate myself right now, but I need to know if Samantha is truly out of the picture or not.

  Guiltily, I hit the reply button.

  From: Samanthatbc88@yahoo.com

  Subject: Merry Christmas!

  Date: 12.25.2013 Time: 11:25 a.m.

  ______________________________

  Dearest Michael,

  I completely understand “moving on.” I have done it many times myself. I hope I didn’t do anything or say anything to upset you. I just thought we had such a wonderful time in The Sanctuary, and I can’t stop thinking about your strong, sensual hands gliding across my silky soft skin and caressing my body. Your touch sent me to another place, sent my head spinning and my heart beating so fast, I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

  Your mouth on mine felt so right, so raw and honest. And ever since that night, I can’t help touching myself whenever I think of you.

  I thought maybe you had felt the same.

  But of course I understand if you don’t want to meet again. Sometimes the best thing is to shut the door on the past and move on. If you change your mind, please email me. The offer is still open, and I’d still love for you to explore my body even further.

  XOXO Samantha

  ____________________________