A Constant Attraction
A J Walters
A J Walters is a contemporary romance author who made her first appearance on to the indie circuit with the release of An Acute Attraction. Having interests in history, romance and elements of erotica, she has brought all of these together in The Attraction Series.
She currently lives in Staffordshire, England with her two children.
Copyright (c) A J Walters, 2014
All right reserved
Front cover copyright (c) John Walters, 2014
Books by A J Walters
An Acute Attraction
Dedication
In memory of my mum, thank you for the memories.
To the two best boys in the World, here's to making many more.
Contents
Emelie
Isabel
Marc
Emelie
Marc
Isabel
Emelie
Marc
Emelie
Marc
Isabel
Marc
Isabel
Acknowledgements
Emelie
Standing tall, at the large imposing window of her Cambridge hotel room, Dr Emiliana Acerbi presses the end call button on her phone. She is confident that she is the one in control. She is the one calling all of the shots, holding all of the cards and that she is the strongest out of the two of them, out of her and Marc Sanders. She has always been this way, since very early on in life and had to be in order to succeed, to succeed in what is mainly seen as a man's world.
From a young age men had been the authoritative figures within her family and community in Italy. There the men were still very firmly set in their ways. The men were the bread winners, head of the family and everyone looked up to them. This became more apparent after her father passed away, after losing his battle to lung cancer, when she was only six years old and her mother had to turn to her uncle, her father's elder brother for help and support. As it was him who they had to rely upon, to avoid being homeless and put out on to the street, he used and abused the situation. Emiliana wasn't allowed to do anything without his permission and in time, her mother turned into the ghost of a woman she once was. Valeria Martinelli had no say in what discipline or punishment was handed out, or which direction her daughter was to take, therefore just blended into everything else around them.
However Emelie wasn't a daft or silly little girl. In fact, she was the complete opposite. Yes, she played by the rules and did what was expected of her. She kept her mouth shut and continued to do what was asked of her. The display and theatre she put on for her uncle was enough to pacify him, but not too obvious for him to question the reasoning behind her way of living. At the age of ten, Emelie made the conscious decision that she was not going to lead the rest of her sorry and turbulent life like that. So, she buckled down at school and any spare time she had in between having to do chores around the house and entertaining her uncle, she would do extra studying. As any spare time was sparse, she would often stay awake late into the night and, either using the bright moonlight or what little street lighting there was, she would cram as much as she could in. Emelie knew her uncle would never fund her college or university fees, as he wanted her to become another little woman, just like her mother, who stayed at home and did nothing else.
With this she needed to prove to herself and others, such as her teachers at school, what she was truly capable of doing. Striving to be the best, to be at the top of her classes, taking home extra work, Emelie hoped it would lead to her getting a scholarship or grant.
As it went, she did ace her exams and at the age of sixteen, Emelie packed the one case she could get a hold of and left for Milan, her only possessions being a few clothes, her diary and a photograph of her parents taken during happier times. Her uncle hadn't been a complete tyrant. He would give Emelie 'pocket money' as he called it, for when she worked incredibly hard for him, entertaining him and his comrades. Six years of saving and stashing the money in an old antique tin under her bed, meant she had enough to buy her ticket and pay for the first couple of months rent. It broke her heart to sell the one item that had belonged to her father, but she knew that her father would approve of her using the money from the sale of the gold pocket watch, to fulfil her dream of becoming something and someone. So, until her grant kicked in, she had to use the cash to live off.
Her living conditions may not have been great, but she was free!
From that moment on her attitude was one of all out for herself. She would be proven yet again that she could accomplish anything, accomplish a great deal in what was predominately a man's world.
It was through her tough, strong attitude to life and her succeeding in her studies that lead her to where she is now. (This is also what attracted Stefano to her when they were both attending the same University. He saw her passion, her wanting in life and determination to get it.) The more she studied medicine, in particular her research in finding a cure for cancer, the more obsessed she became by it. The disease had taken her father from her, taken her early years away from her and she wasn't going to let it take any more away from her or others. Right now though, other elements have come into play and there is no way on this earth, anyone is going to spoil her future and chances of success with in the medical sector. That includes Marc Sanders.
She and Marc have known each other for some years now, as it was twelve years ago that they had met at a conference in Montreal. Both she and Stefano had attended together, when they were introduced by a mutual colleague. As a threesome they seemed to hit it off straight away. As well as a common interest with in the medical field, Marc and Stefano had a shared interest in golf and architecture. Okay, Marc didn't play golf particularly well and more often than not would lose the bet they put on, but it was the company and conversation that made it so they soon became firm friends. Whenever either party were visiting respective countries; Italy and America, they didn't have to worry too much about where to stay or which hotel to book into, as they would be invited to stay over at each others homes. Marc's triplex apartment situated close to the Charles River, had more than enough space for them all to stay in. Emelie and Stefano's four bedroomed house on the outskirts of Bologna, offered the change of pace that appealed to Marc.
In this time Emelie had grown to know Marc very well. She had seen him date a few women and had witnessed the way he'd been around them. Yes he slept with them. Yes, he had wined and dined them. However, she had never seen him be the way he was when with Isabel. The look he gave her. The way his deep, emerald green eyes glinted in her presence and shone when he and Isabel spoke or laughed together. The way she had wanted him to look at her.
Emelie herself had tried to be more than friends with Marc at one stage, when her marriage to Stefano had hit a rocky patch. She had flirted and made her intentions incredibly clear to him, but Marc didn't want to know. He made it abundantly clear that he would never, in no uncertain terms, date or have sexual relations with any woman who was already involved with another man, no matter how unstable or loveless the relationship was between either partner. On one occasion Emelie felt that she had been publicly humiliated and embarrassed when Marc forcibly removed her hand away after she had tenderly touched his cheek and offered her bed to him. The wine that had been consumed had made her all the more braver to do it. He verbally told her, nothing more could come of the professional relationship they shared.
Emelie inwardly spat, remembering how he told her to sober up and to go home to Stefano, to work their marriage out. Marc had pronounced the words 'professional relationship' as though the friendship they also supposedly had, was nothing.<
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Following on from that incident, there did seem to be a weighted awkwardness between them. A chasm had opened up and she worked tirelessly to close it again. Marc's visits to their family home in Italy started to dwindle and he, what she thought, made excuses whenever she spoke about the possibility of staying with him or whenever she had to go over to the US with work. In the end and as it still is now, the only time that Emelie, Stefano and Marc would meet up, would be at medical conferences and presentations held around the world. Typically, Emelie saw that her so-called loving husband, Stefano hadn't even noticed the tension and what was going on around them in their personal life, as he was too engrossed in his career and the research they were doing. That part of his life had taken over everything else. At one point in their marriage, they had a fiery and raw sexual relationship. Stefano being the red hot blooded Italian he is, was a stud in the bedroom, but then the greed for fame and fortune took over the greed for lust and love. They started sleeping in separate bedrooms as he would work longer and longer hours at the university lab, forcing them to become more and more distant. And yet in public they could put on a show stopping display of mutual unification; Stefano constantly holding on to his wife by her elbow, seemingly shackled together, him being the heavy iron ball.
Eventually Emelie fell into this way of living, (if you can call it living) performing for the spectators and audience. However once behind closed doors it all changed and so did her heart, it froze over as there was no warmth, no fire in their shambles of a marriage. With that, she followed the same selfish path as Stefano. Her original reason for going into medicine had been replaced by the wealth, fortune and having her name known around the world. This was what her future consisted of now. She no longer cared about what others thought of her. She had heard all of the whispers, the names of 'Ice maiden' and 'cold hearted bitch' being thrown around. However, these only spurred her on even more; she had power and was feared by many.
So now standing in her cold, clean and clinical looking room, she knew exactly what she had to do.
Isabel
“Oh, my gosh! These are gorgeous!”
As I looked at the reflection in the mirror I knew there and then, that treating myself to a new pair of heels was the best idea Erin could have ever come up with; unless they were delivered to me on a gold satin cushion by the luscious David Gandy or flown in by the 'Man Of Steel' himself, Henry Cavill of course! She was also correct when she exclaimed that “One can never have too many shoes”.
Checking out the elegant satin-like shoe, from every possible angle, I beamed with delight. I had teetered along in a couple of other pairs, before I had laid my eyes upon these beauties; which at first I couldn't because considering the height of the darn things. These however, they fitted like, well, like a shoe believe it or not; they were extraordinarily comfortable- as long as I didn't have to walk any further than five hundred feet in them, at any one time that is. The pair that I had bought from Cambridge for the evening out Marc and I had gone to, were more of a pump style heeled shoe, as the Americans call them and wine in colour. With the event consisting of wining, dining and dancing, they were the safer option (not so far to fall). These however were blood red colour and the killer heels; never in a million years did I think I would be able to stand up in them, never mind traipse around a shop. With first-class assistance from Erin though, as I had initially held on to her and walked behind clutching on to her shoulders; like a toddler does to it's walker, I was now able to parade up and down the aisle without any help what-so-ever. Ok, I still looked like a prancing pony, but with practise and advice from the runway queen herself, I will eventually get there. I felt so incredibly proud of myself, which probably sounds daft, but I reckoned I deserved a certificate of achievement once I'm back at school!
“You look fabulous darling”, Erin pronounces in her best Sharon Osbourne impersonation, that really falls flat on it's face, causing me to laugh so much that I nearly follow Erin's impression. And yes I did let out a slight snort at the end of each laughing phrase, which only makes us laugh even harder. Before we get thrown out of the shop for being too raucous, I suggest that I get out of these shoes and buy them. I love them and remembering Marc's comment, how he had thigh clinchingly whispered into my ear, that his favourite colour was in fact red, I knew he would love them too.
“What has happened to you Mrs?” I know Erin is jesting as she questions me, while I rummage around in my favourite monogrammed, Argylle bag for my purse.
“Erm! It's Ms now I have you know. And I have no idea what you mean.”
I can kind of do know what she means, but I don't let on to her.
Leaning against the counter, Erin takes the shoes from my hand so it then makes my mammoth search easier.
“Well you used to just dress in black all of the time when you were down here. Black trousers, black tops, black flat shoes...I was waiting for the day you came to work with your hair dyed black!” Erin tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
“Now look at you, you're off at the other end of the spectrum.”
I couldn't disagree with Erin one bit. I had used to wear dark, dowdy clothes and I felt I wore them very well because that's exactly how I felt at the time. I had no reason to make any effort and didn't attend any occasions that required me to buy anything different. You know all of this already, but for Erin to ask me, it has really got me thinking. The way I dressed was as though as I was in mourning and I suppose I was in a way. I was mourning for the life that had been taken away from me at the hands of a despicable and controlling man. A man who vowed to love me until death do us part, which was very nearly the case the last time I saw him and the palm of his hand as he slapped me. He hit me with such force, I was knocked unconscious when my head hit the coffee table. My stomach churns at the memory....it's different now however.
So I wouldn't put this dramatic change of not only the exterior of me, but also interior, down to just Marc as I started the process long before I met him. It started the day I woke up in my hospital bed. Feeling sore and swollen was enough of an incentive for me to make the decision. From then on every day was a new one, a new transition, a regeneration I suppose. I'm giggling to myself as I think of a friend, a very good friend who shares an interest in Doctor Who with me....I wonder if there ever could be a female Doctor? Scandalous, I hear the cry!! Reining my thoughts back in again.....I recall the day Jackie commented and complimented on the fact I was starting to add more colour to the clothing I was wearing. I had ditched the bleach blonde highlights in my hair that I thought looked okay at the time and dyed it to a beautiful, warm auburn colour, then grew it back to the length it was before I had the children. My tresses used to be a lovely length, draping over my shoulders and down my back, but having a combination of a baby pulling on them whilst feeding him and the lack of time (or patience) to style or doing anything with it, I took the drastic decision to have my all of my chopped off. I seriously couldn't watch the hairdresser in the mirror, taking the first few cuts. She had already tied the hair into a ponytail, so when she held it aloft and said that they would use it for wigs.....
I did cry myself to sleep that night, kicking myself and wondering what the hell had I just done! How I was feeling at that precise moment, I could have quite easily gone out and bought myself a wig to cover up the super short spikes that were now there. Sods law would have well and truly have rubbed salt into the wound, had the wig been made out of my own beautiful locks though!
Obviously over time, a long time I might add, I had learned to live with it and let it grow back again a little. However I still kept it short while the kids were young.
Now it is back to its original length and a deep autumnal red colour. I know all of this is sounding daft and probably even more so, when I tell you that it does appear to be more naturally vibrant since meeting Marc, just like the rest of me feels.
Now not remembering what Erin had asked me in the first place, I rack my brain and I really can't
remember! I break out of my reverie long enough to see that she is no longer standing next to me by the counter. Just where the heck did she disappear to? I've wished many folk would do a 'Houdini', but not Erin!
Looking from side to side and then back again to the now annoyed shop assistant, who is impatiently waving my receipt in front of my face. I apologetically take it from her and turn to find Erin standing by the entrance with her arms sternly crossed.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to notice I'd gone Ms Chambers!” Erin yells across a half full shop and makes a few shoppers stop sharply in their wake to look at who this loony woman is shouting at. I hush her by placing a finger on my lips and scowl at her, but then I am distracted by a figure staring through the window. I can't quite make them out as the glare from the sun is causing a shadow, however what I do make out is enough to make me frown.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you have waved, acknowledged or smiled at a person thinking you recognised them? Then have gone on to make a complete arse of yourself, when you realise they are not who you thought they were? Yup! I have had many of them, hence why even though I don't go to wave at this person, I swear I recognise them. It's something about the clothing they're wearing, more than the features of this person. I'm not sure if my mind is starting to play tricks on me because the thing is, if this person looks remotely like who I think it is, there would be no way on this earth I'd want to acknowledge them. A cold shiver escalates down my spine, causing me to shudder uncontrollably. I force myself to look away and turn my attention to Erin, before going back to the window again. In those few seconds the figure has disappeared. Oh for goodness sake Chambers, it is just one of those moments. Rubbing my eyes to focus ahead, I give myself a telling off. Forget it and move on.
A Constant Attraction (Attraction #2) Page 1