LUCA (Because You're Mine) (The Sicilian Mafia Series Book 2)
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One perilous evening, her wish came true.
On the way back from working at the bar, Olivia was attacked. She screamed for help, relieved when her cries are answered...but surprised when she saw who her rescuer was. It was the eyes. It was the hair. It was none other than the mysterious homeless man.
That night, Olivia learned two things. One, his name was Kit, and two, Kit had skills… skills which didn’t fit a man living on the streets.
Day after day, Olivia slowly pushed the boundaries, coaxing out the man hiding behind the hair. Kit Chain wasn’t only trained like men she watched in movies, he was also the most beautiful. Bit by bit, Olivia managed to break down his walls, revealing secrets that would change her life. Secrets that would put both of them in terrible danger.
However, there was one thing about secrets...
Everyone had them.
WARNING: This is NOT a traditional love story. It contains disturbing subject matter, including themes of questionable consent for both male and female, as well as graphic sexual content. This is a work of fiction intended for a mature, 18+ audience only. The author neither endorses nor condones this type of behaviour.
Gone were the days when my life was simple, easy, and carefree. I now lived my life on the run. Why? Well, I’ll get to that part later on. For now, I just wanted you to see how it all started. See when my quiet life went from zero to well over a hundred within the blink of an eye.
It was funny how you looked back and remembered seeing things differently. I was twenty when it all started. I moved from Cambridge to London because I wanted to live life in the city... Well, that is kind of a lie, but I’ll also get to that part later.
To be honest, I wanted to be free after losing both my parents. My father killed himself and, soon after, my mother found out she had cancer. She lived only two more years before she succumbed to the disease, then I was on my own.
I was angry at my father because I thought he was selfish for leaving us behind to pick up the pieces. We were always moving, never settling down. As a child, it used to frustrate me because I would just be making friends when we had to move again.
So what did I do? I never made friends. I became a recluse, feeling depressed and lonely at the age of fifteen. I hated my life. I hated my parents for making me that way, and I hated that my only comfort after their deaths was I would never have to worry about money again.
Yes, I had money. I had lots of money. But how could I celebrate that knowing where this money came from? How could I live in the knowledge that I would never have to worry about paying my bills again when I was the loneliest woman in the world? I know. That was a slight exaggeration, but it was how I felt. After my mother died, I spiralled down quickly. I was getting deeper and deeper into a dark abyss that was threatening to swallow me whole. I stayed in my house, hardly ate, hardly spoke to anyone.
I just existed.
This brings me to the next part of my story. You see, I might have just existed and I might have been depressed, but I held onto something. It was a spark of something within me that was just itching to get out. I had lots of time to think, so I planned. Eventually, I accepted Uncle’s help and he planned with me. He wasn’t actually my uncle. I was just told to call him that from a very young age. He helped me through my tough times and, believe me, I’d been through a few. He was my necessary evil. I say evil because there was definitely something dark about him. Something mysteriously dark and most definitely dangerous. I knew he was a very powerful man because of the hold I could see he had over my father.
My father was always scared. I would go as far as saying he was even a little paranoid. Before he went to bed each night, he would check the house five times. I would sometimes watch him as he frantically searched in every corner. He never knew I did, though. As far as he was concerned, I never existed. He was too busy making money, influencing people, and trying his hardest not to get himself killed…which was funny considering he killed himself in the end.
Anyway, I should get back to the here and now. I didn’t want to wallow anymore. I wanted to do something for myself…and for other people.
So what did I do? With the help of Uncle, I moved to London, rented a two-bedroom house, got myself a part-time job in a pub, and used the rest of my time to feed the homeless at the soup kitchen.
I also loved to paint. If I ever felt myself digging that hole I usually crawled into, I would get my brush out and start creating. That was what my second bedroom was used for. It was my studio. My sanctuary. It held a multitude of paintings, each one giving me purpose. It made me want to live, want to see the world from a fresh perspective. It was my home within my home.
Which brings me to the most important part of my story—again. I’ll elaborate later but, for now, you just need to know the essential details.
In my quest to find myself and help others, I met a homeless man. A very dark, mysterious homeless man. Unfortunately, I’d met lots of homeless people, but this one stood out, and do you know why? He never spoke to me. He never uttered a word, never acknowledged my presence. And, quite frankly, it annoyed the hell out of me. Everyone else was so friendly and caring. Despite their own misfortune, they would go out of their way to help, but this man? Nothing. It made me want to know more. Actually, if I was being totally honest, it made me frustrated as hell.
Of course, it didn’t end there. I think you know where this is going but, for now, I will tell you this. The man I was so mystified with, the man who both annoyed me and bewildered me? His name was Kit Chain…
And this was our story.
Jaimie Roberts was born in London, but moved to Gibraltar in 2001. She is married with two sons, and in her spare time, she writes.
In June 2013, Jaimie published her first book, Take a Breath, with the second released in November 2013. With the reviews, Jaimie took time out to read and learn how to become a better writer. She gets tremendous enjoyment out of writing, and even more so from the feedback she receives.
If you would like to send Jaimie a message, please do so by visiting her Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJaimieRoberts