“How about you show me your pool skills?” Caden joked, as I had once told him how perfectly terrible I was at playing pool.
“Just wait, maybe I was sandbagging. I may take you down,” I teased. Passing a bathroom, I added, “Quick pit stop and I’ll meet you there?”
“I’ll grab the bottle of wine Dwayne left us.” And with that, he kissed my hand and left me.
Closing the door to the marbled bathroom, I held onto the sink for a minute. The sick feeling had come back. All of the sudden, I knew I was going to throw up this time. Cursing myself for the wine, I sat on the cold floor in front of the toilet and heaved. It only took a moment, and then I felt completely okay again. But sweat had formed beads on my forehead. I got up, splashed my face with cold water, and used the mouthwash I found under the sink. What was going on with me?
When I walked out, Caden was standing there with two wine glasses and a bottle of wine. His expression dropped when he saw me.
“Cara, what's wrong? We need to get you to see someone. You're sick.”
“I honestly feel better now. I don't know what is going on with me.”
He put down the wine and glasses and pulled out his phone and Dwayne's card. Within minutes, Dwayne was back at our building, with a nurse in tow.
“This is Nora, our on-call nurse,” Dwayne said. “She’ll take care of you.” Dwayne bowed away to give us our privacy.
“Let's go up to your room,” Nora instructed.
Caden protectively put his arm around me to help me up the stairs.
“Caden, I promise you, I don't feel that bad anymore,” I said. “I’m fine to walk up the stairs.”
“You are so stubborn. Just let me help you.”
Nora smiled at our banter, and dutifully followed us. Caden turned the key in the door and opened it, allowing us to enter first. I sat on the bed while Nora got out her stethoscope and thermometer to check my vital signs.
“Everything looks good,” she concluded after she was done. “There's just one more thing I think we should check.” Caden and I looked at one another questioningly and then back toward her. Nora pulled out a box and then looked at me. I looked at the box, and Caden and I must have read it at the same time.
“You carry those with you?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed suddenly, and also a little scared.
“You'd be surprised how often this is the cause.” Nora held the box out toward me. It was a pregnancy test. Not knowing what else to do, I took it in to the bathroom with me, scared to look at Caden on the way.
Locking the door, I pulled out the stick with every thought possible going through my head. When was my last period? It was almost two months ago, but with all the drama of LJ leaving, I’d chalked up the late period to stress.
I read the directions and peed on the stick in the way it described, then left it to sit on the sink counter. Two lines were already forming. I looked at the directions again, willing them to change. Two lines meant pregnant; one meant not. How likely was it that in the next minute and a half the other line would just disappear?
I stared for three more minutes. Nothing changed. I probably would have stayed there forever, had there not been a light tap on the door.
“Cara? Are you okay? It's been a bit longer than two minutes.” Caden. How could I come out and face him?
Epilogue
Caden
Cara walked out of the bathroom. Her face was pale and white as she clutched the small plastic stick. “I guess it’s the stomach flu,” she said as she stuffed the stick back into the box and wrapped it up in the bag of trash. “I’m sorry to ruin the weekend, Caden.”
“Are you sure?” asked Nora. She took a step towards Cara and gently placed her hand on her shoulder. “Sometimes those things can be wrong.”
“I’m sure,” Cara reiterated. “I think I just need to lie down and relax for a bit. Thank you for all of your help.” Cara pushed past Nora and hugged me. “I’d like to rest for a bit. Maybe it’ll pass and we can enjoy everything you had planned.”
“Okay, whatever you want.” I gave her a gentle hug and walked her over to the bed. “Nora, can we call if we need anything?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Zahn. Here’s my number.” Nora passed him a card and made her way to the door. She looked back at Cara. “I hope you feel better.”
A moment later, Nora was gone, leaving Cara and me alone in the room.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked. I eased myself onto the edge of the bed where Cara had nestled herself under the covers and gathered herself into a ball.
“I’ll be fine. I just need some rest and maybe something light to eat to settle my stomach. Any chance you could find something for me?”
“I’m on it.”
I kissed Cara on the head and left. I hated to see her sick.
As I made my way to the first floor, I could hear Dwayne talking with Nora in the front office near where we had checked in. Their whispers echoed through the quiet corridors, but as I approached, they quickly stopped.
“Mr. Zahn, is everything all right?” asked Nora.
“Yes. Cara decided she wanted something light to eat. Any chance I could raid the kitchen?”
Dwayne straightened. “I could have the staff prepare something for her—”
“No, Dwayne. I’ll take care of it if that’s okay. Just point me in the right direction.”
Dwayne smiled and nodded down the hallway. “First door on your left. Help yourself to anything you need.”
“Thanks.”
I took the short walk down the hallway and pushed open the heavy swinging doors. The kitchen was cold and dark and the stainless-steel countertops reflected the glare from the emergency lights scattered throughout the kitchen.
It was an extraordinarily large kitchen and I could imagine the staff running around, preparing meals for the guests.
I flipped on the switch and the kitchen came to life. Fluorescent bulbs flickered on, casting a bright white flood of light everywhere.
This was definitely not the evening or start to the weekend I had planned, but taking care of Cara was the priority and seemed natural, almost like we had been together for years instead of a bit over a month.
I grabbed a few boxes from the pantry and spread the contents across a plate I had grabbed from the shelf, neatly arranging everything as if I were a master chef. I opened the large refrigerator and pulled out a selection of cheese and a can of ginger ale.
Carefully, I put everything on a tray I had found sitting on the side counter and finished the spread off with a few glasses of water and a glass of ice. I pushed through the second set of swinging doors that led to the empty dining room and swiped a small vase from a table that held a single red rose.
Nora smiled at me as I passed her in the hallway. “You’re a good man, Mr. Zahn,” she said.
I nodded and smiled back, not taking my focus or concentration off of balancing everything on the tray.
A moment later, I was through the door of the room and staring at the empty bed where I had left Cara.
“Cara?”
The bathroom door swung open and Cara stood in the doorway, looking better than she had before I had left. “I wanted to clean up a bit. I’m feeling better.” She smiled as she looked at the tray.
“I managed to whip a little something up for you.”
“You did?”
I set the tray on the empty bed and walked over to Cara and wrapped my arms around her. “Are you sure you’re feeling better? I can take you back to your place, it’s no problem.”
“I want to be here with you.” Cara pulled me over to the bed and we both lay down, careful not to tip the carefully balanced tray. “I appreciate you taking care of me.”
“You’re welcome. You’re the person I believe I’ve been searching for and just never found, until that day. I’ve never looked back. I can see an amazing future with you and one that I want to start now.” I rolled onto my side and faced Cara as I grabbed her hand. “I wa
nt to travel with you, I want to build a life with you…” I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed it. “I want to take care of you, no matter what.”
Cara’s face flushed as she smiled through pursed lips. “I...I know. I feel the same way Caden, but…”
“But what?”
“I—it’s complicated. There’s no one I want more than you, and I’m getting there. I’m there, but maybe I just need some time to process a few things.”
“Cara, we’ve been through a lot these last weeks. More than most relationships. I’m here for you, no matter what.”
Cara turned and stared at the ceiling, arching her neck as tears streamed from the corners of her eyes and rolled toward her ears. “Caden, I’m—”
“Pregnant,” I said. “I know. I heard Nora and Dwayne talking when I left the room. And based on how you were feeling, it isn’t a surprise.” I wiped the tears from either side of her face and kissed her cheek. “We’ll deal with this, together. Right now, we need to focus on you and maybe trying to enjoy the rest of the weekend if you’re still up for it.”
“I’d like to,” she said, “but honestly, I think I’d feel better if we just got some sleep and headed back home tomorrow. I’m so sorry to disappoint you, I know you’ve put a lot of effort into this weekend, making sure everything was perfect.”
I kissed her cheek again and inhaled, taking in the smell of her hair, the smell of strawberries. “You could never disappoint me Cara. Never.”
Dear Reader,
Thank you for downloading and reading Torn. As a thank you, I’ve include sneak peeks of several of my recent releases that you may not have read yet. Enjoy!
Ellie & Tristan
Unlawfully Yours
(An Alpha Billionaire Romance)
By
Ellie Danes
&
Tristan Vaughan
www.EllieDanes.com
www.AuthorTristanVaughan.com
Copyright
First Edition, July 2017
Copyright © 2017 by Ellie Danes, Tristan Vaughan
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations are the product of the author's imagination.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
License
This book is available exclusively on Amazon.com. If you found this book for free or from a site other than an Amazon.com country specific website it means the author was not compensated for this book and you have likely obtained this book through an unapproved distribution channel.
Chapter 1
Veronica
“Did you get a good look at his face, ma’am?” the officer asked, pen hovering above his notepad, brow wrinkled.
I sighed. “No. I saw him get into his car. Look, I know who did this. There’s no doubt in my damn mind.” Jackson was the only person who knew how much the art supplies had meant to me. He was the only one who’d had a spare key to my apartment until a week ago, when he’d dumped my ass and told me that I wasn’t creative enough. That I wasn’t in keeping with the artist’s aesthetic he strove to perfect.
Asshole.
“Who?” Officer Brady asked.
“My ex-boyfriend.”
Officer Brady didn’t write it down. He twiddled the pen back and forth and studied me. “You’re sure about that, ma’am. Did you get a good look at the plates on that car?”
“No, but I know it was his Kia,” I replied, and tamped down my frustration. If I snapped at the police officer, he wouldn’t take me seriously on this. And I needed to report Jackson because I needed him out of my hair.
There were too many things on my plate – late rent, back rent, in fact, the cursed life of an artist in New York, and my absentee sister, Jayne – for me to deal with a thieving scumbag on top of it all.
“He’s threatened me before,” I said. Absolutely true. “And he’s also an artist.”
“Really?” Brady’s eyebrows jumped upward. What was this, rookie hour?
“Yes,” I said. “It’s not that uncommon.”
“Yeah, sure, sure. It’s just the apartment,” he replied, and gestured with his ballpoint.
I looked around the studio. The high ceiling, the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that looked out on SoHo. An art easel lay on its side next to the weathered, rosewood desk in the corner. “What about it?”
“Nothin’, nothin’.”
“No, tell me,” I said, hackles rising already. I’d gotten this kind of attitude a lot from the people who visited. My mom and dad, the cousins, shoot, even my friend, Georgia, had been a little dubious at first.
“It’s just an expensive area. You know?”
“Meaning I can’t afford the loft?” I asked.
Officer Brady’s neck colored bright red.
“No,” I said. “It’s okay. I can’t afford the loft on my own. I can barely afford the toilet paper in the bathroom. My boyfriend was staying with me and helping out with the rent up until last week. And my sister stayed with me before that.” except my sister was AWOL now, and I had no means of making her half of the rent. Shoot, I probably wouldn’t make my half of the rent. And I already owed the month’s prior, since Jackson hadn’t given me the money for that yet.
Jackson, cheater that he was, had connections. He came from a family of artists and he’d hooked both of us up with showings at local galleries. I’d sold loads of pieces. Jackson, not so much. But with him gone, I didn’t have many prospects.
That was fine. I’d figure it out. I wasn’t afraid to do what it took to make it. And if I lost the apartment, I’d move back with my parents. That wasn’t too sad at twenty-three years old, right? Oh, gosh, my insides curled up into a ball at that thought.
Back home with Momma and Pops breathing down my neck and telling me to get a real job. Perhaps, they had a point.
Office Brady scribbled things down on his notepad, clearly avoiding all the information I’d just thrown at him.
“It was Jackson DuPont,” I said.
“Frenchman?”
“He wishes,” I said. “No, he’s just got a lucky last name.” I swiped my palm across my forehead and it came away wet with sweat.
So much to do, so little time. I squirmed my cell phone out of my pocket and checked the lock screen. Two missed calls from Georgia, nothing from Jayne. Of course, I’d given up hoping on that one.
My sister had been practically invisible for a year and a half. She’d eloped with her current husband and billionaire, Carter Jones, on one of our arty trips to Italy. Jayne had loved the arts but lacked the talent – not that I was Da Vinci. She’d moved in with me after her last breakup, only to leave me hanging yet again.
Jayne. Mom’s favorite and Daddy’s little girl. Gosh, I sounded bitter.
My cell phone buzzed, and I jumped. Georgia’s name flashed on the screen. “Do you mind?” I asked.
“Go ahead,” Brady said. “I need to write this up.”
I swiped my thumb across the screen and pressed the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Are you ready for tonight? You’d better wear that cocktail dress I got for you.”
“Georg –”
My bestie didn’t hold back. “I don’t want to hear it. I get it that you’re the artsy type but there’s a limit to how many pairs of black tailored pants one woman should have. Scratch that, one human being should have. I mean, seriously. Get a fashion sense.”
“I –”
“And that cocktail dress cost a lot of dough. It’s black. Consider it my gift to you for all future events. You’ve got to wear it.”
“It’s not –”
“Don’t tell me it’s not long enough, woman. I swear, you’re channeling Mother Theresa these days or something. This breakup thing has hit you in your squishy fashion bits and I’ll be damned i
f I let you –”
“Georgia!” I yelled.
“What?!”
“Jackson broke into my apartment and stole just about everything. I’m with a police officer right now.”
Georgia shuddered a gasp in true theatrical style. All that time auditioning for Broadway plays had paid off. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Do I need to give you evidence, too?”
Georgia swallowed. “What a loser. I can’t believe he’d do this to you. He seemed so normal, I mean as far as artists go.”
“Ah, veiled insults. The cornerstone of every good friendship,” I said and chewed my lip. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, but do me one favor?”
“I’m kind of maxed out right now, G.”
“Just check whether he took the dress or not. If he didn’t, you have to wear it tonight, ‘kay?”
“Yeah, yeah. See you later.”
“Kiss, kiss, daaaaarling.” She hung up and saved me the opportunity to rib her for that ridiculous sign off.
I sighed and locked my smartphone’s screen. “I guess this kind of thing happens all the time,” I said to Brady, more to distract myself with chatter than anything else. “Ex’s breaking into each other’s houses.”
“Usually,” Brady said, scribbling away, “they trash the place. But this is downright theft. You said that your brushes are missing?”
“Yes,” I replied.
His eyebrows did a little dance. “Were these, uh, brushes worth much?”
“Yes. About eight dollars per brush.”
“Eighty dollars,” Brady exclaimed, and wrote at the same time. “Hot damn, that’s a lot for bristles on the end of a stick.”
I nodded. I’d been able to afford it at the time. “Officer, what are my options here? Jackson has issues, clearly, with the fact that we broke up. Is there anything I can do to keep him away?”
“Restraining order,” the officer replied. “But you’ll have to present proof that he’s harassed you. That it’s warranted, y’know?”
“Right,” I said and folded my arms. “That shouldn’t be a problem. He’s sent me some weird, vaguely threatening messages over the past week. Here, take a look.” I unlocked the screen of my phone again, then handed him the device.
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