Chasing Darien (Chasing Series Book 1)

by J. M Stoneback

  “Who is this?” Alana picks up a picture of my dad and Cydney, celebrating one of their anniversaries in Spain. In the picture, my father has his arms around her waist and they were at a beach.

  “My stepmom. She died last year in a car accident.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Her words are genuine, not artificial, like others, when they don’t know what to say. She set the picture back down on the entertainment center.

  “Is that how your dad . . .” She trails off, and I nod.

  “They were on their way home, and they got hit by a drunk driver. My stepmom was killed on impact.”

  “I’m sorry, Darien.” She holds my hand and squeezes tight.

  “I’m fine. My stepmom was good to me.”

  “Dinner is ready,” Jade calls out.

  We all sit at the dinner table, stuff our faces with Thanksgiving food, and Andrew sits next to Alana, flirting with her. I swear he is a ladies’ man at the age of five. Jade needs to watch out for him when he gets in high school—he is gonna have a lot of girlfriends.

  After dinner, I show her my old bedroom before I went off to college. She lies on the king-size bed and old Michael Jackson posters hang on the wall. The white paint peels on the wall. “What happened to your mom?” she asks, patting the spot next to her. I sit next to her and think about fucking her on it. I lie down, pulling her into my arms, and we fall back on the flimsy mattress.

  Exhaling, I say, “My father divorced her when I was one year old. My mom was a junkie.”

  She looks at me with sad eyes.

  “Don’t pity me.”

  “I’m not.” She makes circles on my chest and says, “Is your mom still alive?”

  “Dunno, I don’t care to find out.”

  She’s dead to me. If she ever tries to come back into my life, I will tell her to fuck off. “My father raised me as a single parent up until I was twelve and that’s when he met my stepmother. She was a sweet woman to me. She treated me like her own. In my book, she is my real mom.”

  Several seconds later, Alana giggles and she sits up, propping her hand under her head.

  “What, sweetheart?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you were a snob when I first met you.”

  “Really?” I arch an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I thought you were out of my league too.”

  I sit up and pat between my legs, and she snuggles between them.

  “What do you think about me now?”

  “Cocky. Arrogant. Sexy. And . . .” She taps her red nails on her chin. “Caring and loving. You make me happy.”

  Warmth surges through my chest. I angle her chin and my lips meet her soft glossy lips. This girl not only owns my dick, she also owns my heart.

  Three weeks pass and Alana spends most nights at my place even when she works at the strip joint. Sometimes, when she comes to my place, I’m already asleep. She gets off around three in the morning and we barely have time to see each other, since I work sixty hours a week and she works two jobs. I want to tell her to quit the strip joint so we can have more time together, because I won’t be able to cut back my hours from work, since I bought out American Banking. Don’t know what she is going to do when she starts school.

  It’s Christmas Day. My dad is in the hospital—he caught pneumonia. I pace the black and white tile. Jade said he was having a hard time breathing, so she brought him to the ER. Alana sits in the chair next to him and watches Bob’s Burgers. I’m grateful that she is here supporting me in my time of need. The humming noise from the machine is pissing me off and the cold air blows from the A/C, which I don’t understand since it’s cold outside.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I whip it out and it’s an unknown number. I step out of the room and slide my finger across the glass screen.

  “Hello?” I snap.

  “Darien, baby, it’s me. We are meeting with our lawyers on Thursday,” Mia says.

  Did she just call me “baby”? Like we are together? She needs to calm down with the pet names.

  “I already knew that. Why the fuck are you calling me?” I ask. The nurses in their blue scrubs at the station frown at me. Tempted to flip them the bird, I turn on the ball of my foot and walk to the snack machine, grab a dollar from my back pocket, stick it in the machine and press a button. It makes a weird sound, and the honey bun falls, and I grab it from the dispenser.

  “I need money.”

  “I gave you the condo back. What else do you need?” I say, between bites.

  “For food and stuff. My last check from my modeling gig didn’t pay enough. I’ve been clean, I swear.” I hear a television in the background.

  “Good for you.” I hit the red button and finish eating the honey bun. It’s the closest snack I’ll get to eat that is healthy. Why do hospitals offer junk food in the vending machines if the doctors want you to eat healthy? I toss the wrapper in the trash can.

  If she thinks I’m going to fall for her bullshit, she better think again. Not about to fall for her lies again.

  “Who was that?” Alana says, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Lisa. She wanted to know about the holiday party,” I lie.

  “Is she the one who keeps calling you in the middle of the night?” She frowns. I don’t respond. She steps up to me, tilting her chin to glare at me. “You disappear to take calls, and you have a lock on your phone. Is there something I should know?”

  She casts her eyes down to the tiles. I stare at her for a few minutes, debating if I should tell her about Mia. She needs to know, but not right now. The truth is—I’m worried that if I tell her, she’s not going to be with me, but the more I keep this lie going the more I dig myself into a deeper hole. Alana deserves honesty and the truth.

  When I don’t respond, she turns on her heel and walks towards the room. Sighing, I grab her by the arm and she turns back around. The nurses at the station watch us closely, and one of them tells us to keep it down. I rub the back of my neck.

  “I’m not cheating on you, Red.” I rub her cheek, and she flinches. “I promise.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my gray sweatpants. “Do you trust me?”

  “I’m starting to,” she says, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

  I tilt her chin so her beautiful eyes meet mine. “I would never cheat on you,” I say.

  An older nurse with white hair walks into the room, and we both follow her. Don’t know if Alana believes me, but I need to tell her about Mia soon.

  “Dr. Lin is going to discharge Mr. Adam,” she says, before disappearing out of the room.

  We sit with Dad for a few hours, and the hospital releases him to go home.

  Back at my condo, I lay my dad in bed and bring the covers to his neck. He is out like a light. I call Jade and give her the update, and she says she will be over first thing in the morning. When he is feeling better, I’ll take him home.

  I go to my room. Alana pulls one of my big cotton shirts over her body. Grabbing her by the ass, I throw her small body on the bed like a rag doll. She giggles. Haven’t been inside her in over a month and I’m dying to bury myself between her legs. Pushing her legs apart, I slide between them and my dick throbs against her.

  “You finally giving in on your stupid rule?” she whispers. Man, I want her to take me in her mouth.

  “I’m fucking you without a condom.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. I want to feel you raw,” I growl, pulling her panties down and cupping her pussy. I feel the heat radiating from her and blood rushes to my dick, making it hurt more. She breathes rapidly as she rubs her stomach. “Sweetheart, relax.”

  “I don’t want to get pregnant.”

  “You’ve been taking your birth control, right?” I pull down my sweats and toss them to the polished wooden floor. I remove my boxers, fisting my dick and stroking it.

  “Yeah.” She spreads her legs wide, giving me a view of her pink flesh.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pull o
ut before I come.” I position the tip at her entrance and push my dick inside and her tight little pussy grips my dick. She inhales deep breaths as she adjusts to my size. I forgot how great it feels without using a condom. If I move, I might come, so I wait a few seconds then pump inside of her. She moans, and my name sounds good on those pretty pouty lips. Love what I do to her.

  “Move in with me,” I growl.

  “W-what?” She wraps her legs around me and digs her nails into my back.

  “Move”—thrust—“in”—thrust—“with”—thrust—“me.”

  “No!” She pulses and her pussy tightens around my dick like a vise. Shit feels beyond awesome around my dick. Her come leaks on my balls.

  “You will, Alana. I’m not taking no for an answer.” I slide my hands under her shirt, grabbing her tits as I fuck her. My balls tighten and I feel my dick build, so I pull out and come on her stomach.

  “Yuck,” she mumbles, pulling her shirt off and wiping the come off her stomach and tossing the shirt to the floor. My dick is coated with her come, so I don’t even bother to wash myself, just grab my boxers from the floor and slide them on. If I could, I would bottle up her scent and carry it with me everywhere I go.

  “Don’t you think we are moving too fast?” she asks. I shake my head and go to a drawer and pull out a joint, pop it in my mouth and light it. I blow smoke from the side of my mouth. “I’ll make you a deal, if we keep having sex I need to have a drawer here.” She wraps her hands around my waist and squeezes tight.

  “Deal,” I say, putting the bud out in the ashtray. “Before we go any further, I have to confess something,” I say, and push her hair back. Well, I hope what I’m about to say doesn’t end our relationship. “I’m married.”

  Alana

  HE’S MARRIED.

  What. The. Fuck?

  I sit up and wrap my arms around my waist. My hands are clammy and my throat goes dry at his words. The Darien I know is not a liar and has always been upfront with me. I don’t recognize this man, the man who took me out for my birthday, demanded that we start dating. Never once has he showed signs of being married, for Christ’s sake. I’ve been here every damn day. Is this a sick joke? He lowers his gaze to the beige ceramic floors. Oh my God, he is serious.

  My heart can’t take another ache. Tears burn in the back of my eye sockets, and I try to swallow the lump clogging my throat.

  On autopilot, I throw on my ugly Christmas sweater and jeans I wore earlier. He grabs my elbow, and I snatch it away and say, “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  He takes a step back, and I head to the door as fast as my feet can carry me, but Darien stands in front of it, blocking the doorknob. Bastard. “It’s not what you think.” His voice is low.

  “Tell me what I think, huh? That my boyfriend tells me that he is married. That he is cheating on his wife, and I’m a mistress. Because that’s what the hell it looks like to me!” I slap my palm across his hard chest, but he doesn’t flinch.

  God, I must be an idiot. Do I have “stupid” written on my forehead or something? Or do I come with a stamp that attracts assholes? I bared my soul to this man, told him about Cole. I shared my secrets and insecurities and became vulnerable, and he’s doing the exact same thing to his wife that Charles did to me. He is the biggest asshole I know.

  In my eyes, he is no different than Charles.

  “Oh my God, you made me a Rebecca!” I need to get away from him fast. He folds his arms across his chest.

  “Shut up. Don’t you ever say that shit again!” The vein on the side of his neck pops.

  “You did, Darien,” I whisper as tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t even bother to wipe them.

  “I haven’t been with Mia in two years, Alana.”

  “Bullshit,” I say, grinding my teeth.

  “I’m not lying, I was divorcing my wife before you came in the picture.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Why should I? He lied to me the whole time, and he was never mine from the beginning. He belonged to someone else.

  Is Darien his real name? Does he have any kids I don’t know about? That explains the late-night calls and shit.

  “Come with me to the mediation on Thursday,” he pleads.

  I ignore his question. “Why didn’t you tell me in the beginning?”

  “Didn’t think our relationship would go anywhere, but when I saw you the second time at the strip joint, I just knew you were mine. Thought about you so much I began stalking you, showing up at your job and lying that Gunner told me to pick you up. Never meant to hurt you, Alana.” He rubs my cheek with the pad of his thumb, and I flinch under his touch. “When we were at the boathouse, and you told me that you liked me, and I felt the passion between us, I knew I couldn’t stay away from you. Not going to stay away from you.”

  He presses his lips to mine, and I stand there like a statue. Pulling away, I can see the hurt in his eyes.

  “Come with me Thursday so that way you won’t think I’m lying,” he says, swallowing hard.

  He searches my face for answers and I say, “I need time to think and process this.”

  Reluctantly, he sidesteps and I turn the knob on the door and leave, with a crack right down the middle of my heart.

  Whoever came up with that dumbass slogan, “Follow your heart,” needs to be shot. Seriously, every time I follow my heart, it always ends up in the hands of some liar and cheater. My heart is stupid, I tell ya. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It does dumb flutters when I like someone. It tells me to look past people’s faults, even though my smart brain tells me not to. It tells me to let go and forgive when it knows that it has been shit on.

  The sun peeks between my floral curtains, lighting up my room. Dust motes float in the fluorescents, reminding me that I need to clean my room. I’m up too early for my liking. I stare at the Death Note poster hanging above my desk. I didn’t get much sleep last night, tossing and turning in the purple cotton sheets of my bed that feel so foreign because I haven’t spent nights here recently.

  Rolling out of bed, I throw on a pink sweater and white sweatpants and head to the kitchen. As I grab the cup of coffee from the counter, Crystal walks in with her hair looking like Freakazoid. Lavender, thin hair sticks up like a peacock, and her big round belly peeks out from under the blue long-sleeved shirt. Black thick jeans fit loosely around her waist. She found out that she is having a girl, so I’m going to ask Gunner to have a baby shower at his place. Our condo is too small to fit everyone.

  “You’re home?” she asks, grabbing a mug from the chestnut cabinet and pouring herself a cup.

  “You’re not supposed to drink coffee while you’re pregnant, preggo,” I say before taking a sip from my mug. The steam tickles my nose.

  “I can have one cup of coffee,” she whines and perches on the high black stool at the breakfast nook. “Did you tell Darien you are hanging out with me today?” A smile is plastered across her face. My heart aches at the mention of his name, and I want to grab a bag of chocolate chip cookies, crawl under the sheets and hide from the world.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” I lie, putting on my poker face. Dumping the stale coffee into the sink, I go to the coat rack and shrug on my black coat with the fur on the hood that I bought at Forever 21, and wait for Crystal to wobble to the door.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” she murmurs, sliding on her thick white coat and her knee-high boots, and we both stroll out the door.

  Outside, snow sprinkles slowly from the sky, and it coats cars, buildings, and streets, creating a winter wonderland. People bundle in their coats, strolling on the wet concrete to their destination.

  As cars drive past us, the chilly air smacks me in the face.

  Crystal’s car is in the shop, so we are relying on a taxi to take us to Babies ‘R’ Us. We stand at the edge of the curb, putting our hands in the air, flagging down a taxi.

  “Alana Underwood,” a voice says behind us. We both turn our view to a stocky old man with sprouts of silver hair com
ing from his scalp. The black suit he is sporting looks a little too big for his frame.

  “Yes, sir,” I say, waving my arm in the air.

  “I’m Tristan, your driver. Where would you like to go?” He opens the door to a jet-black Maybach. Holy shit. Those cars are expensive as hell. Gunner owns a few. I look at the guy and back at the car, and arch an eyebrow.

  “It’s courtesy of Mr. Darien Casey.”

  I stand there like a statue and a teenager wearing a black beanie bumps my shoulder and turns around and says, “Sorry.”

  I turn my view back to Tristan.

  “Ma’am?” Tristan says.

  Crystal wobbles to the car like a penguin and says, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  I want to turn down the offer, but Crystal is already in the car, strapping on her seatbelt and smiling like she won the lottery. Haven’t told her Darien is married yet. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around it.

  As I pull the seatbelt over my body, I admire the interior. Cream leather seats that recline and brown trimmings on the seats. A flat television covers the back of the passenger and driver seat. “Wow. Your boyfriend knows how to spoil a girl,” she squeals.

  Boyfriend? Haven’t decided if I want to break up with him. Crystal hits a button on the side of the door.

  “My butt is getting warm,” she sighs in relief.

  The driver pulls off onto the icy road.

  “Where would you like to go, ma’am?” Tristan asks, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Babies ‘R’ Us,” Crystal answers for us.

  My fingers are itching to text Darien and thank him for the ride. He deserves a thank you.

  I whip out my phone, tap my fingers on the screen as I fire off a text.

  Me: Thanks for the ride.

  D: You’re welcome. Are you still pissed off at me?

  Me: I’m hurt, Darien. Not pissed.

  D: I’m sorry, sweetheart. Come over tonight so we can talk.

  Me: Can’t.

  D: Are you coming to the mediation?