Losing Her (Lost and Found Book 1)

by K. S. Marshall

  “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

  I hadn’t even hit the end button before Rosa let out a marbled sound that was a cross between a squeal and a scream. I looked at her like she had three heads, “What in the world, Rosa?!”

  “You two are absolutely darling!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

  “Darling?”

  “Yes! The way your face lights up when he’s on the other end of the phone. The way his face lights up when he sees you. Dar-ling! I love it!”

  I chuckled, shaking my head, “Rosa, you are reaching hardcore here.”

  “Oh I am? Tell me your heart isn’t racing right now. Tell me you don’t feel slightly light-headed this very moment. Tell me those things and I’ll drop it.”

  I studied her smiling face. She was right. My heart was racing in my chest, frantically trying to find a steady rhythm. It’d been that way since he answered the phone in his deep, confident voice. And I did feel a bit light-headed. Just knowing that I’d be seeing him later kind of made me anxious in a good way.

  “Exactamente!” she exclaimed.

  “I just met the man, Rosa,” I retorted back, not liking just how right she was about how I felt about Derrick.

  “Listen, Alinita. Enamorarse toma una fracción de segundo.”

  Falling in love takes a split second. I’d heard that before.

  But I couldn’t be falling in love with Derrick, could I?

  “Rosa, it’s not that serious. We’re just getting to know each other.”

  “Si lo dices. If you say so,” she said smugly, closing her eyes and tipping back her mug for another sip of coffee.

  “Ugh. Anyway. I need your advice,” I said, switching gears.

  “About Derrick?”

  “No!” I exclaimed, “sobre mi familia.”

  “Ah! What is it, dear?” she asked, switching from super playful and mildly irritating Rosa to serious friend Rosa. And I loved her for it.

  She was the only one, outside of Derrick now, who knew about me leaving the Gold Coast and why I was in Cold Spring. At first, I had been hesitant to tell anyone, but she was the closest thing to real friend I’d ever had and knowing I could trust her with my secrets meant all the more to me.

  “I’m thinking about calling home.”

  “Ah,” she said thoughtfully, “why is that?”

  “I don’t know…” I trailed off, thinking, “Just to let them know I’m still alive I guess?”

  “That’s a big step. I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

  “I’m worried about them. And I miss them a lot, mostly my father.

  But I came here for a reason, you know?”

  She nodded solemnly, “I do. I get it, cariña. Maybe you should go see them?”

  “I don’t know,” I hesitated, feeling queasy at just the thought of returning back home, “it’s been less than a month.”

  “I’m not suggesting you go home for good, but a visit may be just what you all need. Not just them, you too.”

  I considered it. Going home did sound intriguing. But even as I thought about all the positives that could come from a visit home, the negatives loomed overhead. Press. Schedules. Jason. The incessant pleas and demands for me to return home. The threat of tarnishing the Prescott name. I shook my head, trying to rid my mind of those thoughts.

  “Maybe.”

  “Think about it,” Rosa pushed back from the counter, standing to her feet, “I have to go now, but I’ll check on you later.”

  “Yes, I need to hear all about this Ricardo situation.”

  She sighed, dramatically, “Aye.”

  I followed her towards the door, giving her a long hug that I’m positive both of us needed and a quick kiss on the cheek before shutting the door behind her.

  The day passed by quickly. I did absolutely nothing, choosing to lounge around in my pajamas and watch tv. I still wasn’t used to drinking as much alcohol as I had the night before so my body felt lethargic with the surplus of liquor in my system. Sipping on water, I paused the show I was watching as a scene unfolded that made my chest ache for home.

  In it, a family was being reunited after a long time apart. I hadn’t paid much attention to the backstory, but tears sprang in my eyes nonetheless.

  I missed home.

  Dashing out of bed, I dug out the phone from my top dresser drawer and stared at it. It was a smart phone, an iPhone, and one I’d had for years. I had a similar one that I used now, but it was devoid of any special markers. Rosa called it my burner phone. Pressing the button, the familiar logo flashed on the screen as it powered on.

  Almost as soon as it came on, the vibrating started. Missed call after missed call and several voicemails and text messages. It kept vibrating. Even when I set it down on the nightstand and crawled back into bed, it continued buzzing and beeping to let me know that people had been trying to reach me. I chewed on my lip worrying myself over those messages and missed calls. How much had I missed? How upset were they? Clearly they cared, but would they try to talk me into coming back or had they figured things had been better off since ‘Alina the rebel child’ had left town?

  After few minutes, the phone stopped pinging and I reached over to grab it. My voicemail inbox was full. I had over a hundred missed calls and double that in text messages. Almost all of the voicemails were from either my mother or Jason. That wasn’t a huge surprise. They typically worked together on everything, Jason being so far up my mother’s ass that, at times, it was hard to discern the difference between the two.

  The thought infuriated me momentarily. Jason was a tyrant. A snake in an expensive suit. When he first began working for my family, I thought he was pretty great. He was always friendly and helpful. My parents adored him and I admired his dedication to my family. I couldn't remember exactly what had changed. I just recall feeling like after the summer I’d interned for him, he became manipulative and controlling. I became the focus of his tyranny. The way he smiled gave me the creeps, especially when he turned his snake-like eyes on me. We’d been mortal enemies ever since.

  Scanning through the voicemails, I saw a few coming from my fathers number. I pressed play to hear what he’d left for me two days after I left home.

  “Baby girl, this is your daddy,” he started in the deep, soothing voice I’d come to know as his, “I don’t know why you left, but I’m scared for you. You’ve always been so protected and I hate to think of you being out and all alone in this world. Please come home, sweetheart.”

  The robotic female voice prompted me to skip, save, or delete the message. I saved it. The next voice was Jason’s.

  “Another one of your stunts again, huh Alina? I bet you ran off to go be the little slut you are. Wonder how much this is going to cost mommy and daddy, “ he sneered. His voice made the tiny hairs on my neck stand straight up. “Bring your ass home,” he commanded loudly.

  I didn’t need any prompting to delete his message or any of the others he’d left me. Without listening, I scrolled through and deleted any voicemails that came from any number linked to him.Afterwards, I spun the phone around on the bed, contemplating making the call back home. It’d been three weeks since they last heard from me.

  I pressed my father’s personal cell number before I could chicken out. My heart rate quickened and part of me hoped he wouldn’t answer and I could just leave him a voice message. But I had no such luck. He answered after the third ring, his voice lilted up, hope tinging each syllable.

  “Alina?”

  I swallowed, “Hey daddy.”

  “Alina, is that you?”

  My own voice took on a more girlish quality. I sounded every bit of the little girl he knew and loved, “It’s me, daddy. How are you?”`

  “Oh my gosh, baby girl. Where are you? Are you ok?”

  “I’m fine. I just needed to get away for a bit. You understand don’t you?”

  I clutched the phone tightly, pressing it closer to my ear, hoping that he did, in fact, understand
. Out of everyone, I was closest to my father. My brothers, Jonathan and Benjamin were always busy doing their own thing. Jonathan being the older one seemed to be the crowd favorite, while Benjamin was just trying to follow in his brothers footsteps. They didn’t just not have time for their baby sister, they didn’t want to make the time for me. And with my mother’s jam packed society calendar, I spent most of my time getting primped and prepped to stand stoically and model the perfect Prescott image.

  Despite my fathers work schedule, that had him out of the house most mornings before the sun rose and coming in just in time for dinner most nights, he’d always made time for me. Unlike my brothers, who’d

  grown tired of being tucked in at night as they grew older, I savored the few special moments I was afforded his undivided attention.

  He would sing songs, read books, tell me stories about his day, and genuinely inquire about mine. As I started to rebel in my teenage years, he never yelled or disciplined me, instead he would ask me about my feelings or justifications for my thoughts and decisions. He was a ruthless business man, but a gentle giant with me. And I adored him for it. He’d always made me feel safe.

  “I understand. This life isn’t very easy, is it?” he chuckled.

  “Not at all,” I said, feeling the tension drain from my back as I let out a small laugh, “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. Everyone does.” His voice was tender and I felt the familiar stirring of homesickness.

  “I’m sure not everyone misses me.”

  “It’s quite boring around here without your spunk and attitude livening things up. We need a bit of that around here.”

  We shared another easy laugh, both of us knowing that virtually no one actually missed me at the compound. His laughter died off at a commotion taking place in the background, wherever he was.

  I heard a rustling sound and then nothing, as if he’d covered the phone with his hand. A few seconds later, I heard my mother’s shrill voice.

  “Alina Joy Prescott. Three weeks. Three weeks you’ve been gone and you’re just now deciding to call home to let us know you’re alright?”

  My happiness burst as if it’d been encased in a bubble. Vivian Prescott was in her element.

  “I apologize mother.”

  I was amazed at how quickly my formality came back to me.

  Out here in Cold Spring, I could be myself. Back home and around my mother, I was forced to be rigid and formal in nearly every way. The

  constant reminder of what my last name meant to the society as a whole was drilled into me for a long as I could remember. No wonder she could trigger it back on like a switch.

  “Your apologies are too little and too late, Alina. You need to come home.”

  I shook my head sadly, “I’m doing good, by the way. I’m not in jail or in trouble. I don’t fear for my safety. I’m taking care of myself.”

  “Oh, um…okay,” she stammered, confused.

  “You just didn’t ask. You grabbed the phone from dad and just started yelling at me. I wanted you to hear from me that I am okay out here.”

  She sighed audibly, blowing air through the phone, “I don’t need the attitude, Alina.”

  “And neither do I,” I bit back.

  “Where are you?” she asked, her tone laced with frustration at not knowing everything.

  “It doesn’t matter where I am.”

  “It does, Alina Joy. It matters a lot. Your father is running for mayor. We have a lot of eyes on us right now and you being gone is raising some questions.”

  “That’s not my concern, mother.”

  “It should be. You are a Prescott.”

  “You are a Prescott,” I mocked, “I know the spiel. I’ve heard that from you nearly every day of my life. I get it. But it doesn’t change anything for me. I’m still not coming home.”

  She breathed again, “Listen darling, your father has a fundraising event coming up in a few days that would be incredibly beneficial for him. He needs you there. We need you there. Even if it’s just for the night. It would mean a lot to your father.”

  She had me there. My father was my weakness. I’d do just about anything to make him happy, as he’d done for me so effortlessly over the years. Even if whatever it was would kill me. A tiny part of me was thrilled at the idea of being home, but I still hesitated.

  “Well?” she asked, “will you consider it?”

  “I’ll consider it,” I answered shortly. “I have to go mom.”

  Knowing that if I stayed on the phone too long, they would wear me down and have me packing up and catching the next train home. I wasn’t quite ready to do that. Even a quick trip home for an event left me with doubts. I ended the call quickly, telling them that I loved them both and would call back in a little while.

  I fell back against my pillows, letting the phone fall to the side.

  Less than a five minute phone call had drained me of the little energy I had for the day. Closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep,hoping for pleasant dreams.

  ELEVEN | Alina

  My hopes for a restful nap were dashed as my dreams were marked with anxious running.I awoke abruptly to the sound of the doorbell ringing through my apartment. My body moved automatically down the stairs and to the front door, while my eyes remained shut, still trying to push the negative thoughts from my brain.

  “Hey sleepyhead.”

  The deep sensuality laced in his voice sent heat straight to my core. My eyes popped open, resting on his softly lit silhouette. As he closed the small distance between us, a shudder of remembered pleasure rippled through me.

  “Derrick…” I said longingly, as if he wasn’t real and I was still dreaming.

  “It’s me baby.”

  His large hands touched my bare shoulders and smoothed down my body until they were resting on my hips. He pulled me against him, tilting his head down to kiss me full on the mouth.

  When our lips parted and the kiss deepened, I grabbed his shoulders, trying to move closer against him. His fingers lifted the hem of my shirt and brushed against my skin, causing my breath to hitch momentarily. Another delicious shiver of pleasure ran over me as he dragged his fingers up my heated skin, finding the swell of my breasts then the hardened points of my nipples. He groaned into my mouth, pinching and rolling them between his fingers. I gasped at the sensation as his lips moved to my throat.

  “Ah, Derrick…” I rasped.

  “Hmmm?” he murmured against my neck.

  “Mmm..my..neighbors can see..ah…ev-everything…right now,” I panted.

  His hands moved back down to my hips and he pulled his mouth away from my neck. His eyes were bright with desire as he chuckled, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Turning, he shut the front door.

  I took that small space of time to steady my breathing and readjust my clothes. Damn, the man could kiss. When he turned back, he seemed to have regained some sense of composure as well. There was fire behind his eyes, but it was tamed. For now.

  “Are you done with your work for the day?” I asked.

  “I am.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile, “I’m glad too. I missed you today.”

  I beamed up at him, taking his hand, “C’mon in. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  He shook his head, “Nope. I’m good. I had a big lunch.”

  I lead him out of the entryway and just as we hit the bottom stair to move up to the second floor, my stomach rumbled. Loudly. I dropped his hand, clutching my midsection uneasily.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” I blurted out just as he laughed out loud.

  “Ha ha! Don’t be sorry, hun. You’re obviously hungry. Let’s get you something to eat.”

  He dragged me into the kitchen, spinning me around him and pinning me to the island. His thick arms planted on either side of me, caged me in and my pulse quickened as he pressed his hips to mine.

  “You’re beautiful, you know that?” h
e whispered.

  I smiled, unsure of how to respond, but feeling genuinely touched at the compliment. He lowered his head, tilting it slightly before he kissed me. His raging lust was just below the surface. I could tell he was holding it back. I pressed my body against his, loving the way my sensitive nipples felt against his hard, muscled flesh. He pulled away, much too soon, gripping my hips and lifting me onto the counter.

  I giggled looking down on him as his deft hands parted my legs and he stepped between them. He kissed me again. This time I was just slightly taller than him, so I angled my mouth down to his. His fingers rubbed at the exposed flesh of my thighs and I ached to feel his fingers in my cleft. All too soon, again, he pulled away.