by Aimie Grey
(Accepting Fate, Book 2)
Aimie Grey
Copyright © 2015 by Aimie Grey.
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Published by Insanity Press, Hilliard, Ohio
Cover Design by Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs
Front Cover Image © Perrywinkle Photography
Back Cover Image © peshkova / Dollar Photo Club
Edited by Liz Aguilar of Book Peddler’s Editing
Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com
e-book formatting by BB eBooks
Never to Hope/ Aimie Grey.—1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-9903409-4-2
For Heather and Carrie
My inspiration, my mentors, my friends
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Part Two
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Letter from Aimie
About the Author
PROLOGUE
Six Years Ago
The cold tile floor on which I sat sent chills through the thin material of my robe to my nearly bare skin, and the cinderblock walls holding me upright were as unforgiving as my conscience. My body was tucked tightly into the corner, and my knees were covered with black streaks from running mascara as I hid my face against them and sobbed.
Over the years my body had been at the mercy of what others wanted, but I had survived, and I’d taken back control over what happened to me. For the first time, I’d used my body to benefit myself instead of my family, and the rush felt…good.
The power I’d experienced the first night was an incredible high—as if I’d given the universe a giant “fuck you”. I couldn’t quite reconcile the emotional pleasure I felt that night with my painful sexual history. All I knew was that I got to call the shots. I got to choose who and what I did. The power was in my hands.
The second night, however, was much harder, and the third was nearly unbearable…and now here I was huddled in a corner, crying. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—give up, though.
“Hey, are you all right?” A pair of smooth, shapely legs came into view when I lifted my watery gaze. “Pretty new here, huh?”
Nodding, I did my best to dry my cheeks and then swiped my forearm beneath my runny nose.
“What’s your name?” she asked as she crouched down to my level.
“Alissa,” I replied quietly.
“No, it’s not,” she said in a firm voice. “Not here, anyway. The first rule of survival is anonymity.” She paused for a moment, as if working something out in her mind. “From now on, every time you step through those doors, your name will be Lisa.”
“Lisa…” I repeated hesitantly, testing the name on my lips.
“I’m Veronica, by the way, but the clients know me as Vicki. How did you make out tonight?”
“Not very well,” I admitted. The money was better than waitressing but nowhere near what I’d been told to expect.
“You’ll need a new look to go with your new name. I’ve worked here long enough to know what the customers want. My sister owns the little beauty shop a couple of blocks over on Bridgeview. Meet me there tomorrow at noon, and we’ll get started.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because someone helped me when I was sitting in that corner. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. Someday, you’ll have an opportunity to pay it forward.”
*
The next day, Veronica, who I barely recognized in jeans and a billowy blouse, pounced on me the moment I stepped over the threshold and led me to a station. I hadn’t experienced the chemical smell of a salon in over ten years. The room had a worn-out feel to it, but all of the women in the chairs wore smiles and appeared to be gossiping with their respective stylist.
“I’m going to work on you today,” Veronica said as she pushed me into the chair and draped a plastic cape over my body. Noting the skepticism in my eyes, she added, “Don’t worry; I went to beauty school. This is my day job.” She ran her fingers through my overlong, drab brown hair. “First, I’m going to bleach your hair. It’s a two-step process: the actual bleaching, and then applying a toner to even out the color and get it to the right shade. Most of the clients at the club prefer blondes, and I think you’d look great as a honey blonde. Then I’m going to cut off all of the dead ends and give it some shape. After I’m done with you, Kimmy is going to wax you from head to toe, and then Barb will do your nails.”
“Two things,” I interjected in a panic. “First, I can’t afford all of that. Second, what do you mean by ‘head to toe’?”
“You can pay me back over time. You’ll start making a ton of cash after we get you fixed up.” Veronica paused for a few seconds to stir some goop in a plastic cup. “And it may sound painful, but trust me, you want to be waxed down there. Guys love it; it’s so much easier than shaving all the time, and it’s much cleaner.”
Trusting her experience, I let her and her coworkers have their way with me for several hours. After I was coiffed, smooth, and polished, Veronica took me to the makeup station and painted my face. When she was finished, she removed the bib she’d placed round my neck and led me to the bathroom.
“Don’t look in the mirror. Just go directly to the big stall and take off your clothes,” she said. “You can leave your bra and panties on.”
“W-why?” I asked.
“Trust me; just do it.”
Figuring I didn’t have anything left to lose, I went into the stall, unbuttoned my shirt, and kicked off my jeans. “What now?” I asked through the door.
“Unlock it and turn to face the back wall and then back out slowly. I’ll guide you so you don’t run into anything.”
Following her instructions, I felt her warm hands on my shoulders as I stepped backwards out of the stall. She guided me for several steps and then stopped.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
She slowly turned me around to reveal
a full-length mirror. “I’d like you to meet Lisa.”
I examined the stranger in the mirror looking back at me. She was beautiful, even sexy.
“Lisa is a vixen,” Veronica said with her hands grasping my upper arms and her chin resting on my shoulder. “Lisa is tough. Lisa has no fear. Lisa doesn’t cry in corners. Lisa is in complete control of every situation.”
Looking into Lisa’s eyes, I knew she was exactly what I needed to continue to survive. She would protect me and give me the strength to do the things required to achieve my goals. She would keep me from losing power over what happened to my body ever again.
“Hello, Lisa, nice to meet you.”
Part One
Chapter One
“Fuck!” I had to make a split-second decision: let go of my most valuable possession so I could catch myself, or fall on my face. In my profession, broken bones—or even a couple of bruises—could cost me weeks’ worth of work, so the expensive phone went flying.
Before my right hand was fully wrapped around the smooth wooden banister, my nervous system registered the pain that was now shooting from my foot all the way to my spine. I’d never hated the acrylic overlay on my toenails more; instead of bending or breaking upon impact, the reinforced nail jammed straight back. A quick glance told me that, even though it hurt like a bitch, there wasn’t any real damage. Hell, the polish hadn’t even chipped, for which I was extremely grateful.
No, I wasn’t a vain airhead; my job just required me to look like one. The hotter I was, the more money I made. Sometimes, having pretty toes made the difference between average and extraordinary earnings for the night.
As I did a one-footed jig on the bottom step, I cursed the candy-themed game that had distracted me to the point of not noticing the pile of boxes at the bottom of the stairs. “Who the fuck is stupid enough to leave all of this shit here?” I mumbled to myself. Looking around, I noticed most of the foyer was covered in boxes. It wasn’t a very big space, maybe a little over a hundred square feet, but only a few scattered patches of the grungy beige tile were visible. After adjusting my grip on the rail, I leaned around the wall that partially obstructed my view. There was one more spot of tile showing; however, in the middle of this spot was a pair of black work boots sticking out from beneath dark blue denim.
“That would be me.” My eyes slowly followed a path from the boots to the jeans, which hugged a set of muscular thighs, to the pale blue T-shirt that was tight enough to hint at the solid chest underneath but still left something to the imagination. After being briefly distracted, I found the source of the smooth, deep voice. His lips were perfect, not too thin and not too full, and the dimple in his chin was designed to be licked. I hadn’t yet made it past admiring his strong jaw covered in day-old stubble when he spoke again. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”
The tall man carefully climbed over a stack of boxes until he was in the general vicinity of where my phone had crash-landed. When his tight ass came into perfect view as he bent over to pick it up, the throbbing in my foot unexpectedly vanished and was replaced with a mysterious warming sensation in places I didn’t want to acknowledge. Watching the muscles in his back flex underneath the now stretched cotton of his shirt didn’t help my predicament in the least. I couldn’t tell if the definition was the result of hours in the gym or some sort of physical labor, but it didn’t matter; every inch of his body was absolutely perfect.
He turned and looked at me through long, thick lashes that outlined his beautiful deep brown eyes. God must have taken the schematics from my head and used them to create my ideal man. Right about then, I realized there was something about him—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on—that felt comfortable…familiar even. There was no way I’d met him at work—a man like him would have definitely made a lasting impression. Only one guy had ever caught my attention there, and my attraction to him wasn’t even remotely as potent as this.
A well-defined forearm came into my field of vision as he held out my phone to me. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that I realized I’d been standing there frozen a little too long. What had he asked me? Oh yeah, he wanted to know if I was okay.
“Yeah, just stubbed my toe. I didn’t realize they’d run out of apartments and decided to rent out the foyer.” I took my phone from him and glanced at it to make sure it was still in one piece. Relieved the expensive protective case had done its job, I slid it into the back pocket of my shorts. “Thanks for getting it for me. Guess I need to pay attention to where I’m going—and remember to wear shoes—when I come down to check the mail.”
Looking to my right, I couldn’t even see my mailbox thanks to the stack of brown cardboard boxes piled directly in front of it. The letter I’d been anxiously expecting for months was supposed to be delivered any day now. The steel box hanging on the wall just a couple of yards away might be holding the news that would change my life, yet it was just out of reach.
“Wow, I’ve never seen such fancy toes.”
I wondered how long he’d been examining my feet. “I can’t stand them,” I replied. Work was the only reason I endured the hours it took to get a manicure and pedicure every other week. I absolutely hated sitting still that long with nothing to do but make small talk. We stood in awkward silence for a moment, and I couldn’t quite shake the feeling I’d met him before. “Do we know each other?”
His head tilted as he studied me. The intensity in his eyes had my insecurities running at an all-time high. “Not yet, but I have a feeling we’re supposed to.”
Any tension I might have felt was instantly broken. It took everything I had to keep from laughing in his face. “Has that line ever worked?”
“Oh, uh…” He looked away while running a hand down the back of his neck.
And, the discomfort was back. “It wasn’t a line, was it?” I asked. His eyes darted around the space but never landed on me. “I’m sorry. I’ve heard so many lines over the years that everything sounds like a come-on to me.” After a few seconds of quiet, I gently kicked the box in front of me.
“Sorry about the mess.” He must have decided to let my faux pas go. The sparkle in his gorgeous eyes returned, which did something strange to my stomach. “I waited too long to reserve a U-Haul, so I could only get it for a few hours this morning. My friend helped me carry most of the furniture upstairs, but we didn’t have time to take these boxes up to my apartment, so we just dumped them here. I figured everyone would be at work for a few more hours, but I guess I was wrong. I’ll get them moved as quickly as I can.”
Based on the size of the pile, it would take him all day. There was no way I could wait that long to see if my letter had arrived. “I’ll help; just let me get my shoes.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I do if I want to get my mail anytime soon,” I said with a smile. “Plus, I can use the exercise.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” Although, in all reality, who enjoys moving enough to volunteer to do it? “I’ll be right back.”
It only took me a couple of minutes to run up to my third-floor apartment and put on my socks and shoes. On my way back down, I found him coming out of the unit closest to the steps on the first floor. “That’s me,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
“That’s not too bad, but it’ll still take a while to get all of that stuff up here. Is your friend coming back?”
“No, he had to go to work.” Crap. I tried to think if there was anyone I knew who could help. My parents were probably as high as the International Space Station, as usual, and I didn’t want anyone from work to know my real name, let alone where I lived.
When we made it back to the ground floor, I surveyed the heap of boxes again. There was no way a single man would have so much stuff. “How about your girlfriend? Is she coming to help?” I was slightly disappointed at the thought, but I knew it didn’t matter. It’s not like he could ever be mine.
<
br /> “Don’t have one.”
“Oh, boyfriend? Roommate?”
“None of the above; it’s just me.”
“Then what’s with all of this stuff? I thought bachelors lived light.”
“My last place was quite a bit bigger, so it didn’t seem like that much until I boxed it up. I blame my mother and her decorator.”
Ah, so he was raised with a silver spoon in his mouth.
“I’m Carter, by the way. Carter Smith.” He took my hand and helped me climb to the largest bare spot on the floor, which was just barely big enough for us both to fit. My breasts pushed against his chest as I steadied myself in the cramped space.
“Alissa Ross,” I replied. Even after I found my footing, he still hadn’t let go of my hand. “Okay, let’s get started.”
“Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do on a Monday afternoon?” he asked.
“Nope. I was going to be lazy until I have to go to work tonight.”
“What time do you have to leave?”
“Shift starts at ten, so I’ll probably hit the road about nine.” When I pulled my phone out to check the time, he finally released my hand and moved to another vacant spot. “It’s only noon, so we have plenty of time. I just hope we can at least clear a path before everyone comes home. Mr. Pereira, the guy who lives across the hall from you, is a cranky old bastard.”
“Thanks for the heads up about my new neighbor. Sounds like he will be loads of fun.” The boyish grin on his face was adorable. “I work nights, too. I’ll probably need to leave around eight-thirty since I’m not used to the commute from here.” While he spoke, I turned around and squatted the best I could in the confined area so I could lift the box on which I’d stubbed my toe. “Where do you work?”
Shit. “Centennial Midwest,” I replied. It wasn’t a lie. CM was a holding company that owned a ton of fine dining establishments, among other things, in the state of Indiana. Most of them were right here in Indianapolis. Carter lifted a box of his own and followed me up the steps.