Inescapable
By
Version: 1
Kindle Edition
ASIN: B07CX7FHFR
Copyright © 2018
All Rights Reserved Worldwide
Any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations and places or events, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
I am a British author and write in British English, unless writing from an American’s point of view where their own spellings and slang are used.
Image Copyright © 2018
Copy Editing by Karen J
First Proofread by Emma Mack of Ultra Editing
Second Proofread by Tracy G
Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk
Book content pictures purchased from Adobe Stock, iStock and Shutterstock
Foreword
Amazon Author Page
www.cjfallowfield.co.uk
31 Days Trilogy Box Set
31 Days of Winter – 31 Days of Summer – 31 Days of Autumn
A Red Hot Christmas
Paris
All That Glisters
Destined (The Austin Series Prequel)
For the Night Series Complete Box Set
Strangers for the Night – Virgin for the Night – Filthy for the Night – Ménage for the Night – Sophisticated for the Night – Biker for the Night – Dominant for the Night – Actor for the Night
Inescapable
The Austin Series Box Set (Books 1-3)
Destined (The Austin Series Prequel) – New Leaves, No Strings – Baggage & Buttons – Forever & an Engine
The Austin Series Box Set (Books 4-6)
The Honeymoon Period – Love & Loss – Infinite Love
The Domville Complete Box Set
The Domville 1 – 8
The Temptress
Torn
I also write romantic comedy novels under the pen name Charlotte Fallowfield.
Amazon Author Page
www.charlottefallowfield.co.uk
Until We Collide
Dilbury Village Series
Never The Bride (Dilbury Village #1)
The Great Escape (Dilbury Village #2)
The Best Medicine (Dilbury Village #3)
Dedication
Inescapable is dedicated to everyone who has ever suffered emotional or physical abuse.
Believe that you deserve better.
Believe that you are worthy of more.
There’s always someone who will help you, if you just have the courage to reach out your hand.
http://www.nationaldomesticviolencehelpline.org.uk
Table of Contents
Inescapable
Foreword
Dedication
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Next Release
C.J. Fallowfield’s Novels
C.J. Fallowfield’s Book Club
Charlotte Fallowfield’s Novels
Prologue
Izzie Knight
December
Glasgow, Scotland
‘IZZIE, YOU SEEN THAT guy checking you out?’ Shaz shouted over the thumping bass of the music, as she flicked her unruly red mane in the direction of the bar.
‘Yeah, I’ve seen him,’ I chuckled as I lifted my arms and swayed, letting my body move rhythmically, sexily, to the beat.
‘What you gonna do about it?’ A huge pink balloon expanded from her clear-glossed lips, before it popped and she sucked the gum back into her mouth.
‘Nothing,’ I shrugged. ‘He’ll come to me if he’s that interested.’
‘Well, look whose confidence is at an all-time high,’ she laughed. ‘Playing dress up in big sister’s clothes suits you.’
I grinned at her, before flashing him a seductive smile as I slowly gyrated my hips. His eyes were glued to the strip of exposed stomach above my leather mini, pale flesh that contrasted with the black and purple corset I was wearing. Both borrowed off Shaz, of course. I didn’t own anything nearly as daring.
This guy wasn’t the usual type of sleazebag this club attracted. He could have been plucked straight out of the pages of Vogue. Hot businessman advertising an expensive watch. Yeah, that was what he looked like, with his probing brown eyes, dark good looks, and fancy three-piece suit. Definitely a few cuts above average for these parts. Why the hell he couldn’t take his focus off me was the confusing part of it all. He looked like the kind of guy that would be better suited with a twinset and pearls kind of girl. With my rock-chick look, ripped tights, and long dark hair, that I wasn’t. Even when I didn’t let Shaz dress me up, I was still pretty far removed from the type of woman I imagined he’d ever go for. That said, I was never one to back down from a challenge, so I held his gaze, taking in his well-dressed and muscular body.
‘Bet you a fiver he don’t come over, he’s too good for the likes of us,’ my best friend said as she bounced her eyes between the two of us eye fucking each other.
‘I’ll take that bet and raise it to a tenner.’
‘I don’t have a tenner. I’m skint. We’re skint. We’re down to our last fiver and don’t even have money for food for the weekend. If I wasn’t screwing Tommy the doorman, we wouldn’t even have been able to get into this dive.’
‘Thank God for Tommy, as I think this guy at the bar is looking for a bit of rough tonight,’ I giggled as I spun around to face her, breaking the stranger’s intense gaze.
‘Nah, he might be looking for a bit of rough, but try as hard as you can to be like me, you’re not, Izzie Knight. And one-night-stand gal you certainly ain’t, with your fairy-tale dreams of handsome princes, castles, babies, and happy ever afters.’
‘Who says he might not be my happy ever after?’ I asked as I stopped dancing and cast a look back over my shoulder at him. He smiled and tipped his drink in my direction as he winked.
‘Girls like us, from the wrong side of the tracks, we don’t get the dream,’ she reminded me.
‘No, we don’t, do we.’ I sighed, full of frustration at the thought that this was going to be my life story, as I ran a hand through my hair.
Shaz had been put into St. Catherine’s children’s home when she was nine. Her drug-addled, deadbeat mum had found it too much of an inconvenience to look after a kid between shooting up. Shaz had grown up on the roughest estate in Glasgow, the same estate where we now shared a pretty grim, ground-floor flat together.
I’d been more fortunate. For a time anyway. My parents had doted on me, and I’d been spoiled, growing up in the nicer part of town, with the added bonus of a boarding school education. My life had been pretty perfect, until my dad was arrested for pension fund fraud and died in a prison brawl, and my distraught mum, an art teacher, committed suicide
. Quicker than you could snap your fingers, I went from having it all, to having nothing. And that, I thought, was even worse than never having had it in the first place.
I was eleven when I was sent to St. Catherine’s with nothing but a small suitcase. My only mementos of my parents were a cuddly penguin called Peter, given to me one Christmas, and a photo of the three of us. I’d found myself in a tiny box room in the eaves, with a rickety old bunk bed squashed in the corner, lacking any kind of natural light with only a tiny, dirt-covered skylight in the roof. That was it, nothing else in there other than a furious looking Sharon Mackie, who told me she’d kick my arse if I so much as looked at her the wrong way, then challenged me to a fight to prove it. To say she was hostile to sharing her precious space was an understatement.
I think even she was surprised to find herself sneaking into my lower bunk to hug me as I cried myself to sleep that first night. At two years older than me, I think my tears had brought out her protective streak. We’d been inseparable from that moment on. There had been plenty of nice families that had wanted to adopt me, but no one wanted the feisty, flame-haired, freckle-nosed, potty-mouthed teenager. And if they wouldn’t take her too, I’d made damn sure to act in a way that stopped them from wanting to take me. We were a team, a unit, we’d decided that we went together or not at all.
Those years of misery in that children’s home had never stopped me dreaming of a better life for us both, though. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe we’d be superglued to each other’s sides forever, but we’d always be sisters. I’d always love her, but I wanted more. I wanted someone to love me with the intensity my dad had my mum, and I’d be just like her, loving them just as fiercely in return, not wanting to live if I couldn’t be with them. But if I had a baby I would live. I’d never abandon my child the way she did me, no matter what happened. Seeing how much losing our mothers had affected Shaz and me, my maternal instinct was heightened. I wanted to offer a child everything I’d lost. Shaz was the opposite, she said she didn’t want the burden of screwing up a kid’s life, the way her mum had hers.
I was the optimist and dreamer. Shaz the pessimist and realist.
‘Glad we didn’t shake on that bet or I’d be down my last fiver, which I need for smokes. He’s coming for you, just like you said.’
‘What?’ I shook my head as she startled me from my thoughts.
‘Tall, dark, and dangerous. See you in the morning, kiddo. For once, just do what I’d do and have some goddamn fun, eh?’ She winked, before strutting off, weaving through the bodies that surrounded us on the sticky dance floor.
‘Hey,’ came an American accent, as a pair of strong hands slid around my waist and palmed my stomach.
‘So, Americans don’t introduce themselves before they touch up a woman?’ I asked, slapping his hands away as I pulled out of his grasp. He laughed as I turned to face him, with a scowl on my face and my hands placed indignantly on my hips. I’d been playing the part of a sexually-confident Shaz, when in reality I was still an insecure naïve virgin. I swallowed hard as I faced off with him. He was so much better looking close up than with my beer goggles from a distance. The opposite was usually true, but those hazel eyes of his were hypnotic.
‘Normally I would introduce myself, but from the way you were dancing and holding my gaze, like I was the only guy in the room, I didn’t think you were the kind of girl that would want to be wooed.’
‘Well, maybe I’m just having fun pretending to be someone I’m not.’ I moved my hands off my hips and folded my arms across my chest as we eyed each other curiously.
‘Maybe I am too,’ he said, mirroring my pose.
‘Hmmm, let me guess, you’re really just a hobo who rubbed a dirty old lamp, a genie appeared, and you got granted three magic wishes. You chose good looks, a snappy outfit, and the best club this side of the river to pick up some posh bird for a night of fun. Well, you lucked out on wish three, as this really is the best club this side of the river and I’m the closest you’ll come to posh, there’s really not a whole lot of choice in this club.’
‘If that was true, I’m thinking I certainly didn’t “luck out.” You’re incredibly beautiful close up, though that dark hair of yours should be blonde with your complexion and blue eyes, and longer, down to your waist. I’d make you wear dresses to show off your feminine curves, but not your flesh, as that makes you look cheap. And I’d insist on high heels to elongate your slender calves, instead of those clumpy biker boots. I could turn you from a pretty little girl into the most stunning woman, in the blink of an eye.’
‘Is this a “get in my knickers” kind of deal?’ It was rare for a man around here to throw a girl a compliment, let alone that many in a sentence. And I had to say, as a seduction technique it was working on me, even without that deep masculine voice and totally un-Glaswegian accent. ‘As I’ve got to tell you, I wasn’t lying when I said I was playing a role tonight. This is all just an act, I don’t put out as soon as I meet a guy.’
‘I’m happy to hear it.’
‘Are you? As you came over here looking to score, what changed?’
‘I’ll admit that I was looking to blow off some steam, especially with the girl I thought you were. But now that I’ve seen you up close and personal, you’re the type of girl I’d rather ask out on a date.’
‘A date?’ I scoffed, as I tried to size him up and work out if he was joking. ‘A guy like you, with a girl like me? I don’t think so. You’d be a laughing stock if you took me back into your world. No way. Besides, I don’t want to date a guy who’ll be flying halfway across the world to return home any moment.’
‘I’m here for six months with work. And while I concede that my colleagues might be a little … shocked to meet the current you, I wager that I could take you to a corporate ball in London in two weeks, and you’d pass muster alongside any of their high-society dates.’
‘Yeah, right,’ I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
‘Are you too scared to accept my challenge?’ He smiled as he studied me, and I felt my eyebrows rise into my hairline in surprise.
‘You’re actually serious, aren’t you? You think that in two weeks you can turn me into a lady.’
‘I do, and if I’m proved right, you’ll accompany me to the ball as my date.’
‘You realise that I’m not a hooker, right? This isn’t some Scottish version of Pretty Woman, where you can buy my compliance and expect sexual favours in return. I don’t care how much younger, or hotter, than Richard Gere you are.’
‘If you were a hooker, you’re a terrible one,’ he countered with an amused chuckle. ‘You have absolutely no idea of the concept “time is money” as you stand here arguing with me.’
‘Say I did accept this challenge, what would it entail?’ I asked, my curiosity peaked. What girl hadn’t watched Pretty Woman and idly imagined a handsome guy with money swooping in to offer her a better life?
‘You’d move into my hotel, separate suites of course,’ he quickly added as my eyebrows raised even higher. ‘I’d pay for all of your beauty treatments, a new wardrobe and accessories, elocution and deportment lessons, though you’re oddly more refined than I was led to believe from first glance, and I’d spend each evening with you, teaching you social skills and table etiquette.’
‘Oh, thank God you added in table etiquette, as you know here, in backwards Glasgow, no one knows how to use a knife and fork. How can I ever thank you for saving me?’
‘We’d also work on keeping that sarcasm in check,’ he retorted. ‘So, do we have a deal?’
‘Maybe,’ I shrugged, still thinking that this sounded too good to be true. ‘I need some time to think it over.’
‘You have tonight. I want your answer tomorrow, as we’d have a lot of work to do,’ he stated as he slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out a business card, which he handed to me. I burst out laughing as I read the name Richard King.
‘Damn, your name’s really Richard? Maybe you are my Ric
hard Gere after all. But I’m warning you now, I’m definitely no Julia Roberts.’
‘On that we’ll have to disagree. Let’s start again. Hi there, I’m Richard King,’ he stated, holding out his hand. ‘And at twenty-six I’m far younger than Richard Gere, and hotter, as you correctly observed.’
‘Isabelle Knight, aged eighteen. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Richard King.’ I placed my small hand in his surprisingly strong one, and he lifted it to his lips and kissed it.
‘Trust me, Isabelle, the pleasure is all mine.’
June - Six Months Later
I sat on the edge of the faded moth-eaten sofa, wondering if it had always been this dirty. Or had the whirlwind romance and fancy hotel living of the last few months given me ideas above my station? It was certainly true, once you’d had a taste of the high life, it was hard to go back.
Except I wasn’t going back, this was one night only. One night to say goodbye to my best friend, before Richard took me home with him to Washington D.C. I really was living out a Scottish Pretty Woman fantasy, without the whole me being a paid hooker part. But Richard had done as he’d promised, invested time and money in me, and brought out the lady that I probably always would have been had my parents not been taken from me. And in the process, he’d swept me off my feet. He’d shown me what it felt like to be the centre of someone’s world, to be loved, to feel safe and protected. Not to mention what the trappings were, of being in a relationship with an older man of means. I certainly wouldn’t miss this skanky flat, but there was one thing I was going to miss terribly. Shaz.
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