A Stranger’s Affection
Tough Love Book Two
By
Charlene Namdhari
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
A Stranger’s Affection
COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Charlene Namdhari
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Cover Art by Raven Designs
Edited by Jeanette Naidoo
ISBN: 978-1-990938-51-1 Ebook
ISBN: 978-1-990938-52-8 Paperback
Dedication
IT TAKES A STRONG WOMAN to stand up for herself. But, an even stronger woman to stand up for everyone else.
This book is dedicated to all the woman in the world. Whether you’re a mum, a daughter, a teacher, a student, a CEO, married or unmarried—most importantly, you’re a woman.
Your strength lies in YOU – own it.
Blurb
“THERE IS NOTHING STRONGER than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself.” – Hannah Gadsby
Revenge is a deadly weapon. But it takes a special kind of vengeance to make a woman kill without remorse, to laugh without mirth, to challenge without thought. Kidnapped at seventeen, held captive and then forced into the world of crime, Nishani Scott Callahan defines fearless.
Back with her family eleven years later and ready for normalcy, fate strikes another blow. Abducted on her honeymoon, she’s severely assaulted. Fierce determination sees her escaping straight into the headlamps of a stranger's vehicle.
Billionaire Colton Black is hardcore. A man who treads a fine line between good and bad. He's got no time for love, until a rough pearl with dark hair and deep blue eyes lands in his lap, badly beaten and missing a chunk of her memory. Saving her means risking his guarded privacy, but her feistiness when she awakens catches him completely off-guard.
Equally unprepared, Nishani can’t fathom this ferociously controlled man who appears to reach past her scars to touch her fractured soul.
Will he be her salvation or her ruin?
Contents
Dedication
Blurb
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
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
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Epilogue
Also by the Author
Chapter One
Thirteen Years Ago – Sometime in 2006
“ASH, LET’S GO.” NISHANI Callahan tugged her sister’s arm.
“Quit whining, Shani, and have some fun,” her sister muttered without pulling her gaze away from the game of beer pong currently in session.
Annoyed, Nishani turned away. “I’m leaving,” she yelled over her shoulder, aware Ashni’s interest lay in how many tequilas she could down by sunrise.
“You’re not leaving, are you.”
Nishani looked up at the guy blocking her path to the door. She didn’t recognize him. Either he was new or didn’t go to her school. “Yes.” She brushed past him.
“Aww, c’mon have one drink with me, then you can go.” He caught her hand, his smile charming.
She turned and studied him for a second. The guy wasn’t handsome, but she couldn’t call him ugly either. The black-rimmed glasses gave him a certain appeal. Her interest was severely lacking when it came to boys. She’d just turned seventeen and had her whole life ahead of her to choose the right guy. For now, studying and reading were more of her thing.
“Fine.” Unsure why she relented, Nishani accepted the plastic cup and took a sip. She coughed and spat out the Vodka. “Yuck.”
He laughed. “I’m guessing you don’t drink much, do you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t drink alcohol. Thank you, though, for the drink.” She smiled and walked away. Outside, she stopped at the end of the driveway, turned, and looked back. The guy stood at the door. He smiled, waved to her, and went inside.
As she slipped through the gate, Nishani grinned. It was the first time some guy had shown a little interest in her. Where Ashni was into short skirts, make-up, and boys, Nishani preferred to chill out in sweatpants with a good book or movie. She was a loner and didn’t need friends—she couldn’t handle the idle gossip girls yacked up when they had nothing better—
The sudden squeal of rubber made her stop and turn. A black sedan headed down the road. The vehicle’s speed gave the impression the driver participated in either a race or a chase. As the car screeched to a halt a couple of meters from where she stood, Nishani’s sixth sense pricked up. The two back doors opened. A man, dressed in a black suit, climbed out, and Nishani got the sudden, the calm before the storm, feeling. Something didn’t feel right. She could feel it in the air—some serious shit was about to go down.
It took a moment for her to grasp the fact that the man headed in her direction. Nishani glanced around and, for the first time, noticed the dimly lit streets enhanced by the quiet surroundings. Who the hell chose this place for a party? What in God’s name was she thinking—leaving to walk home alone? Home was miles away, how did she intend walking there?
That was her all right, always leaping without thinking. The neighborhood on the outskirts of Darien, Connecticut, wasn’t the best of places for a lone girl to be caught on—well, anyone for that matter. Her breath hitched in her throat when a second man climbed out of the vehicle. He stood looking at her over the roof. Under the single lamppost, the ragged scar from brow to lip on the left side of his face gave her the creeps.
Run! Her instincts chilled a notch higher as her thoughts became jumbled chaos, wavering between fear and confusion. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, and just as the man reached her, she turned and ran. Her legs, suddenly taking on a life of their own, resembled something close to bullet speed.
“Fuck,” the man yelled to the one standing at the car. “Go after her.” His impatient bark all she needed to confirm he hadn’t stopped to ask for directions.
Shit. Her heart pounding, Nishani veered off to her left and down an alley between a fenced off block of apartments and another building. She ducked behind a dumpster and dropped to the ground. Panic clawed it's way back into her chest, choking her. Tears blurred her vision as she pulled out her mobile. “Breathe, girl.” She swiped her eyes, desperately trying to shake off the fear and dialed.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I-I—”
“She went this way,” the sudden shout forced Nishani to cut the call before taking off. At the end of the alley
, she turned right and rounded the corner in a rush. Her gaze snagged the hole in the fence. Without thinking, she stepped through and raced for the sparsely lit building and hoped someone was still around. Nishani reached the door, tried the handle, and heaved a sigh when it opened. Inside, she eyed the long, faintly lit passage. It had to be a warehouse. Moving swiftly and stealthily through the dark shadows, Nishani prayed the men gave up chasing her and left. She tried her phone. No signal. Shit.
As she neared the end of another passage, a sudden noise halted her step. Frightened, Nishani dared not to breathe. Sweat speckled her upper lift and pooled at her armpits. A strangled sound from the hallway to her left knitted her brows in confusion—it sounded like someone in pain. Slowly, she inched her way forward and listened for the source of the noise. She turned the corner and caught sight of the crumpled heap on the floor. Nishani crept closer. She froze.
No! It was the guy who’d offered her a drink back at the party. Blood ran down the side of his face. She dropped to her knees and reached out a hesitant hand. “Hey?” Maybe he saw the guys chasing her and followed. Maybe he tried to help and got clobbered instead. While the possible scenarios raced through her mind, Nishani gave him a gentle shake. He didn’t move. She checked his pulse—there was none. Oh, God! Stunned, she bit down on her bottom lip to stifle her scream and backed away from the body, only stopping when her shoulders hit something hard.
Hiccupping on a sob, Nishani looked up. Scarface. A hulk of a man, he bent down, slammed a hand across her mouth, and lifted her off the floor. Her screams paused in her throat. Silent muffles no one could hear. With a violent shake of her head, Nishani kicked and thrashed despite his iron grip on her body. As he dragged her through the passages, she fought harder, challenging his hold. When they reached the door, an adrenaline-induced panic forced one final attempt to get free. The man’s grasp slipped a notch. Taking advantage, Nishani bucked hard against him kicking his shin with the back of her heel. He yelped and let go.
She didn’t stick around to find out whether she’d hurt him. Shoving the door with a hard push, Nishani sprinted outside, her screams similar to a wailing banshee. “Oof.” The sudden blow to her stomach caught her by surprise. Nishani doubled over in pain.
A second guy grabbed her by the arms. His hand covered her mouth as he carried her through the hole in the fence. With a grunt, he pushed her into the backseat of the waiting sedan. Scarface slid in on the opposite side. Both doors shut with a brutal sense of finality, and Nishani’s heart sank. Don’t give up. It’s not over. Grinding gears, the driver burned rubber down the road. The man holding her, let go. She pulled in a few deep breaths, raised her hand, and aiming for the man’s nuts, brought her elbow down hard, screaming as loudly as she possibly could.
The vehicle swerved uncontrollably for a few seconds before the driver yelled, “Shut her the fuck up!”
Cursing, the man she hit, nursed his crotch while Scarface clamped his large hand over her mouth. The vehicle picked up speed. Like a crazed Pitbull, Nishani sank her teeth into the soft part of where his thumb met his palm and locked her jaw.
“Son of a bitch!” Scarface howled and tugged at his hand. “Fucking hell! Get this bitch off me. Now!” he yelled. His friend let go of his crotch, gripped her hair, and yanked. She refused to budge, sinking her teeth deeper until she tasted blood.
Crotch man grabbed her neck and squeezed hard. “Let go, bitch.” When that didn’t help, he fisted his palm, ready to punch.
“No. Remember what he said. No bruises,” Scarface screamed, still trying to tug his hand free. “Get the fucking needle!”
A fourth man in the passenger seat leaned over, his fingers clenched around a fat syringe. Nishani’s eyes widened. He dodged her flailing hands and jabbed the needle into her thrashing thigh. Barely two seconds passed before her muscles began to betray her. She whimpered. Her jaw loosened and released her hold on the man’s hand.
He cursed, “’Bout fucking time. Get me something to wrap this damn wound.”
Nishani fought hard to keep her eyes open, but a blissful peace settled over her body.
“The old man got himself a real fighter in this one,” the driver said. “Maybe he’ll give us a taste. I like it when they fight back, makes the fuck more entertaining.” He chuckled before her lids finally dipped, and everything went black.
Nishani jerked awake. She opened her eyes and squinted through the blur of bright lights. Unable to focus, she closed them again, counted to ten, then reopened her eyes. Slowly, she absorbed her surroundings. The room was way too pink to be her bedroom. It was a lie that girls loved pink. She, for one, hated the color. Black and pink candy stripes made up the three walls she could see. Nishani tilted her head up to look at the wall behind her head, but all she could see was the pink, furry headboard that resembled a giant teddy bear. Where am I?
She glanced down at her body. A sequenced bra top and a mini skirt. God, what am I wearing? Great, Ashni had suckered her into another one of her stupid games. Her sister was continually coming up with silly pastimes. Annoyed, Nishani tried to move her legs but couldn’t. She looked down. Her legs were spread wide, each foot cuffed to the end of the bed. Still fuzzy with sleep, she shook her head in confusion. What had her sister gotten her into now? She tugged her hand to turn. It didn’t move. Surprised, she looked first to her left then her right. Someone had cuffed her to either side of the headboard. And for the first time since she opened her eyes, panic set in. “Ashni, you need to cut this shit out,” she attempted a shout, but the dryness in her mouth caused a feeble yell. She tried swallowing.
“So, you’re finally awake.”
Startled by the deep voice, Nishani’s head jerked around, trying to locate the source. “Hello,” she called. Her body tensed, mind on high alert. There was something so wrong with the scene. Panic flattened out and became horror—a profound dread.
“Hello, kitten,” that voice again.
Suddenly, the bed started moving, rotating slowly toward the wall she couldn’t see. Anxious, Nishani’s gaze darted all over the place. And as the scene unfolded before her eyes—dread pumped adrenaline harshly into every nerve cell. Survival instinct took over. “No,” she whispered. Her heart rate increased by the second. Cold sweat brushed her skin. “This isn’t happening.” Recollection kicked in—this was no game—those men had kidnapped her. Tears pricked her lids.
The wall parted down the center whirring away to reveal a wall of glass. “No,” Nishani choked out past the lump of terror clogged in her throat. Fear the size of golf balls knotted her insides—nothing to do with the tall old man who stepped forward and smiled but the scene behind him. A row of six men, ranging in ages, sat in large comfortable seats, eyes lustful, smiles greedy, they stared at her—their expensive suits a dead giveaway to their profession—buyers. Cruel clarity sliced through her thought process for a second. These were powerful men who bought young girls. At the last thought, anxiety seized her, squeezing hard until every nerve cell begged for air.
Her hands shook violently, causing the cuffs to chafe against her wrists. “Please. Please let me go,” she cried out.
The old man standing, nodded to someone, and the glass partition opened. He stepped closer. “It’s okay, kitten. No one will hurt you. You’re safe.”
Something about him made her insides cringe. He was a normal good-looking man. Judging by the expensive suit, the large watch on his wrist, and the gold chain around his neck, he was rich—he could easily be someone’s grandfather. But it was the eyes that scared her the most. Despite his warm and friendly smile, his eyes remained cold—chillingly intense and devoid of sympathy—a warning not to mess with him.
“Please let me go. I promise not to tell anyone,” Nishani begged.
He threw back his head and laughed, his perfect white teeth flashing. “No, kitten. Let me explain how this works.” He sat down on the bed and rubbed her thigh. Nishani flinched, but the restraint prevented her from pulling away. “You�
�re in my palace now. And whoever enters cannot leave until I say so. And you, kitten, have just arrived.” He slipped his hand further up her thigh. Her vision blurred as tears leaked into her ears. “This pussy—” he cupped her private area. She jerked wildly. “It’s mine.”
Nishani’s skin crawled. Her insides twisted. “Please don’t,” she begged, shaking her head from side to side.
“What’s the matter, kitten? Don’t you like my touch?” His manic laugh grated on her nerves like a warning bell. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
“No!” Her shrill scream pierced the room. Her hands and legs lurched against the cuffs. The cold metal cutting into her skin no comparison to the pain of knowing this man would take a sacred part of her—she’d promised her virginity to the man who’d steal her heart forever.
The old man stood. “Isn’t she a beauty, boys? So tender and innocent at this age.”
Grunts of approval filtered through the sound of her crying before someone muttered, “You can’t have her all to yourself, Rajah.”
“Maybe you’ll get a piece. Maybe you won’t, boys,” he replied, his tone condescending.
They were calling him King. The knowledge sickened her further. Her tears fell harder. “Please don’t.” She yanked hard on the cuffs. “Let me go. I won’t say anything.”
His gaze never leaving hers, he unbuttoned his jacket and let it fall to the floor. When his shirt followed, Nishani looked away. Her heart rate spiked, sobs choking on each exhale.
“Look at me, kitten, and I won’t hurt you,” he warned. “Defy me, and you’ll probably leave here. In a casket.” The words, harsh and icy, made her blood run colder than the air blasting from the vent above the bed and pulled her gaze back to him. “There’s a good girl.”
He smiled, and Nishani cringed. Nausea replaced her hiccups. She swallowed hard. The foul taste of vomit disgusting as it burned back down her throat. Still looking at her, he unbuckled his belt then unzipped his pants. Nishani struggled once more. Please, God, don’t let this happen to me. He slid his pants down along with his underwear. She kept her gaze fixed on his face. Once he was fully naked, he leaned down and opened the wraparound skirt that served as the only cover to her privates. A chorus of stomach-turning comments from the seated men filled the room. Nishani screamed, rocking her body to stop him from touching her. When he ripped the bra from her chest, she twisted her body until the cuffs drew blood. Her tears fell faster, spilled down her temples and into her hair.
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