Love Came Back (a Pyro-Princess Design and Style novel Book 1)

by Garza, Stephanie Nicole

  However, my classes weren’t what I had issues with. It was Mags. She could always see right through my bullcrap. Only known each other for just over a year and she could already detect it.

  Sigh.

  “What the fuck happened to your face, Sidda?”

  Looking around to make sure no bystanders had heard her outburst and to keep others from being privy to my personal life, I chided her to keep her voice down.

  “Magdalene, keep it down! I tripped and fell over those heels I like to wear while I was walking down the stairs. I hit my wrist pretty hard on the down fall and my ring scratched my face.”

  I made sure to speak as normally and calm enough, so the “Mags Inquisition” would cease.

  “Hmm…Say I even buy this. Where was Mikhail?”

  I knew she thought I’d hesitate, but she was dead wrong.

  “In the next room. When he heard the crash, he came, picked me up and took me to Texas Women’s. Waited there with me and took good care of me.”

  Who knew lying would come so easy after the first deception was put out there?

  “Hmm, that was mighty sweet of him.”

  I knew Mags was still skeptical with that excuse. Even the look on her face was proof positive she didn’t really buy it. She knew I was generally clumsy, but also that I could walk pretty well on heels. She taught me.

  She was going to college for shoe design. She wanted a part of my own clothing line when I finally opened my dream boutique to showcase her own designs.

  “Mags, I am ok. No harm, much. No foul. Let it go, girl.”

  Squinting her golden hazel cat eyes at me, she nodded firmly that she was giving. She believed my lie. Thank God.

  “Alright, baby-cakes, but if I figure out or find that creepy McCreeperson is laying a hand to you, I will beat his too-good-looking ass into next week, feel me, girl?”

  “Yeah, I feel you.”

  Her attempt at gangsta talk of ‘feel me’ made me smile and I nodded as we proceeded to go to our weekly lunch date at the local bar and grill.

  Our classes were different this semester. Hers centered on shoe making, in which I tease her mercilessly on being a cobbler. Especially since she was a lover of pies as well, the double meaning isn’t lost on her. Her response?

  “Why are you so strange?”

  Couldn’t help but laugh at that one.

  “Duh, you know me Mags, I love making myself laugh and that makes me laugh. Cobbler…almost sounds like gobble, like a turkey? Gobble, gobble, gobble.”

  I couldn’t help but crack up laughing. I was indeed strange but silly strange. So it worked out just fine.

  She cracks just a few laughs before she sobers up and stares at me with meaning and purpose.

  “I know you. I know what you’re doing, baby-cakes.”

  “It’s ok, Mags. I’m fine. Let’s get outta here.”

  After lunch, we had to go our separate ways. Hers to class and since I had an hour and a half to kill before my next class, I drove to my marketing class. I walked over and sat underneath a shady tree.

  Pulling out my brand spanking new book, Show No Mercy by Cindy Gerard, I lost myself in a love story filled with hot men, and the women that fall for them. I let Jenna and Gabe’s story take me to the heart of Buenos Aires, Argentina.

  6

  Fake ID’s and Birthday Wishes

  After my wrist accident, yeah that’s what I’m calling it, I started talking to Mags less and less. Even my family noticed how absent I was. Although for them, my excuse was easy. I hardly saw them with school and a full-time job. Mags on the other hand? Not quite so easy.

  I hadn’t realized I was distancing myself so efficiently from everyone I loved. Sure enough, that’s what I was doing, so effortlessly.

  Since that lunch in late August, things had been strained between Mags and myself. I knew she must have suspected that Mikhail was involved in my wrist accident, but after our little wtf-happened-to-you inquisition, Mags stayed out of my relationship with him.

  I knew she wanted me to drop him and move on, and I was almost at the point of not caring and just hoofing it. How could I let the threats he’s holding over my shoulders about my family go without a thought? I couldn’t do that. If it was a choice between my family and me for safety? It was my family. Hands down. It was a risk that I just couldn’t bear to take.

  ♥

  Mikhail was gone the weekend of my twentieth birthday. Mags told me she was going to take me out to celebrate. I tried to refuse, I didn’t want to be a victim once again to Mikhail’s wrath.

  But Mags, God love her, didn’t take no for an answer. No refusals. My bestie, the wench, told me to pack an overnight bag because we were hitting up 6th Street in Austin. If you’ve never been to Austin and 6th Street, it’s a ‘partiers partiest’ party. The whole street of clubs and bars. Every college students dream.

  We were looking tight and hot in our sequined mini dresses. Mine was purple, hers was teal. I designed them last year in our first design class. Mags even made our heels to match each other’s dress. Never let it be said we didn’t coordinate our clothes with one another.

  “Um, Mags, this is cool, but we aren’t even twenty-one. We can’t even drink. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  That’s when this chick, my bestest friend in the world, pops out two fake-ass ID’s. Yes, they looked real, but totally fake. Never had a fake ID before!

  Mags noticed my freaked-out face, and laid her hands on my shoulders.

  “Girlfriend, we are going to celebrate your birthday, in style. Free birdies for the night. Mike’s gone for the weekend and I’m so not dating right now. With our hour glass figures, we shouldn’t be buying our own damn drinks anyway. Let’s throw some shapes. If we want to drink, all those guys should buy it for us. It’s no big. Fun is the word this night girlfriend. Siddaleigh, fun, you remember fun, right?”

  “Agh, fuck it. Alright, Mags. I know I’ll probably regret this come morning but let’s get our groove on.”

  ♥

  By two in the AM, we were both half lit and loving it. My poison of choice? Jägerbombs. Tastes just like Vicks Nyquil. No problem ever taking that before. And after two more hours, we were feeling just right.

  Full faculties’ and awareness was fading. All the shit over the past seven months was so far from my mind. We danced with a few guys, hopefully they were hot, but mostly we danced with each other. This night was not about dudes. It was about chicks before dicks. As Mags pointed out to me as we hopped from bar to bar and club to club.

  Mags made reservations at a swanky hotel within walking distance which was so beneficial for us. We imbibed too well it seems. Calling it a night at half past four, I turned to Mags in the elevator.

  “Thanks Mags. I needed this so badly. I had the best time!” I hugged her fiercely and she returned it with just as much gusto.

  “Happy birthday, Siddaleigh. Anything for my bestie and sista’ from another motha’.”

  We drunkenly made it to our room and when we opened the door we practically fell over the threshold giggling in happiness. We didn’t care about undressing, we just made our way over to the queen size bed. We didn’t need two beds, because we’ve shared a bed in our apartment whenever the other needed comfort and a shoulder to cry on. Our shoulders knew each other’s tears of joy, happiness, sorrow and heartbreak.

  The next thing I’m seeing is the back of my eye lids. That night, I had no dreams. Just sweet blissful sleep.

  I woke up with Mags and myself facing each other. Mags usually slept like the dead. Looking at her closed eye lids, I told her everything. I knew she wouldn’t hear me. I just couldn’t keep my troubles to myself anymore. How everything since the day I moved out was such a mistake and I wanted to be free of him. About the threat hanging over my head. It was only a matter of time before he threatened my relationship with Mags and I knew I wouldn’t be able to survive without her. She was my glue most of the time since we met. Two young girls nee
ding friendship and a loyalty I just never had before her.

  I had a good size hangover but without the headache. Disentangling myself from the sheets, I got up to relieve myself of the awful feeling of fullness in my bladder. After the flush, I looked up into the bathroom mirror.

  Holy schnikies. I looked rough. We didn’t even think about changing. So my dress clung to my curves like a tick. My boobs were ready to pop out and greet the world. After adjusting, I tried to clean my face as best as I could. That’s when I heard my iPhone belting out Hot and Cold by Katy Perry. Definitely Mikhail’s song.

  Oh, shit. That was Mikhail’s ringtone. Texts and calls. I scrambled over to the bed and snatched it before it woke up Mags.

  Twenty missed calls, two voicemails, and ten text messages. I checked the texts first as I walked into the front room with closing the bedroom door behind me.

  Mikhail: 8pm Happy Birthday

  8:30 Hello?

  8:47 Where are you?

  9:00 Why aren’t you answering me Siddaleigh?

  9:15 Austin?

  11:00 I hope you’re enjoying yourself

  11:15 You better answer when I call you next, Siddaleigh Mare

  12am Hmm, no answer

  1:00: Oh Siddaleigh

  1:38 You need another lesson, don’t you?

  No. No, no, no, no. What have I done? I was too afraid to check the voicemails. I knew better though. If I didn’t, it would be most likely ten times worse when I get home and didn’t remember what he said.

  First voicemail was at fifteen after eight. You’re not answering your phone, baby. Hopefully you had a long day at school and are asleep. You aren’t working much these days anymore. I know it’s not where you are. I checked with your boss. Happy 20th Birthday. For being a good girl the last few weeks, maybe we could go out tomorrow night and celebrate.

  Okay, that one didn’t sound so bad. Not bad at all compared to the second.

  This one was at eleven forty-five. Austin? Really, Siddaleigh? Let me guess. Mags? You really should’ve known better. We will discuss this at length when you get home. I will give you until two this afternoon because your bitch ass will be drunk. Most likely. Which that will be discussed as well. If you are late, you will receive more than what you already will be punished for. Don’t make me reach out to someone you love.

  Fuck! It’s eight thirty in the morning!

  “MAGS! Get up! We gotta go! Mikhail wants to take me out tonight to celebrate my birthday! I need to get home and get myself ready!”

  I skidded back in the bedroom and tore the sheets from her scantily clothed body and ripped off her face mask.

  “MAGS, NOW!”

  “Ugh. Fine, baby-cakes. Calm down, and you are so driving.”

  No effing problem. We packed our small amount of clothing after changing into jeans and t-shirts.

  Never in my life did I need to get home as fast as I needed to get home this day. I broke every limit I could within reason without getting caught and got home.

  Stat.

  ♥

  With just thirty minutes to spare, I dropped myself off and tossed Mags the keys. With a hasty thank you for the best present ever and even a hastier goodbye, I jogged down the drive, stopped at the porch then calmed myself before walking in,

  Going through the door and closing it behind me, the house seemed so eerily quiet. The shadows from the curtains swallowed any light from the windows and that’s when I felt him behind me. My mind was screaming, help me, God.

  7

  Birthdays Officially Suck

  Mikhail had crept up behind me, yanked my head back by gripping my hair and shoved me onto the floor. I heard myself scream and he clamped a hand over my mouth.

  “Austin, Sidda? Really? Who the fuck do you think you are? Strutting your fat ass all over the place. Why did you go? What were you wearing? Some slutty dress I bet. You think any guy wants this piece?”

  He cupped my vagina and pushed in. The pressure hurt. He released my mouth so I could answer but kept me still. Never have I ever been as scared to answer as I was now.

  “Mags wanted to celebrate my birthday. I didn’t think you’d-

  He replaced his hand back over my mouth.

  “That’s right, you cunt. You didn’t fucking think. As for your punishment, you will receive twenty spankings. Fitting, since it’s your twentieth birthday. It will not be soft. You will learn to ask permission before leaving this house. No more school, no more work. You can work for me inside this house. You’ll do as I say. Do you understand?”

  I jerked in surprise by what he said. Spankings? What the hell? Did he mean he was going to actually spank me? Like a disobedient child?

  “I don’t need to ask permission, Mikhail. I am an adult. I can do as I please. We aren’t married.”

  I said this strongly, but when I caught the steely hardness in his eyes and the flare of his nostrils, I flinched. His expression was hostile for a fleeting moment, before his normal façade of indifference took hold and he smirked.

  “Do as you please, huh?”

  I was shoved down to my elbows and knees as he released my hair. He drew his now free hand to my jeans, unbuttoned them, and told me not to move or he’d make my punishment worse.

  I felt my elbows, arms and knees getting tired from the hardwood floor. I tried not crying. At least, not too loudly. I knew he meant to degrade me down to nothing. I just willed God to make me endure this with strength.

  He pulled my pants and panties down enough to expose my rear, then a loud smack echoed. Jerking forward and crying out, I knew he was serious about spanking me. I started to feel terribly sick to my stomach.

  “I said quiet. The only sound you’re allowed to make is counting your punishment. I want you to know how many you are receiving.”

  With that, he hit my butt again. It felt harsher than the last one, but I reeled in my whimper and the urge to cry out by biting down on my own teeth.

  “Siddaleigh?”

  Oh. That’s right. He wanted me to count. I took a deep breath, “Two.”

  SMACK!

  “Three.”

  With each new hit, it seemed to sting more and hurt worse. When I finally reached twenty, he stopped and I heard unzipping. The hand that was holding my hip went to the back of my neck and my face was pressed even further into the ground. How this was possible, I didn’t know. Without any further ado, Mikhail shoved his penis between my thighs and I felt something inside my inner walls tear. I was dry and he wouldn’t relent or ease up.

  “Mikhail, please.” I reached my hand back to stop him but he just grunted and pulled my hand tight against my back.

  “Are you sorry yet, Sidda?” He pounded into me without remorse.

  “YES! Yes, I’m sorry, Mikhail. Please, stop this,” I would say anything to make him stop.

  “What are you sorry for, Siddaleigh?” Mikhail grabbed my other hand, the one I injured before and clenched them both against my spine. He was grunting and moaning in pleasure. I was almost ready to toss up the contents of my stomach, but I held it in my throat and swallowed a deep breath before speaking.

  “Mikhail, I am sorry I didn’t ask permission before going out. I should have called you and told you Mags wanted to take me out.”

  After a few more thrusts, I felt him finish inside me. He took himself from my body quickly, which made me flinch with pain and I cried out. He tucked himself back into his pants and moved to stand up. As I tried to right myself, he stood next to me, and kicked me in the ribs. I can guarantee this, I didn’t hold back the sobs and tears anymore. That hurt like I’ve never hurt before.

  “Your cunt is bleeding, must be that time of the month. Take care of the mess you made and go clean yourself up. You need to learn who is boss around here, Sidda. I have a very important client coming tonight at seven. You have until then to clean up and make a meal for him and his trophy bitch wife. I made sure not to hurt your face but you need to wear something to cover everything else.”
>
  I nodded in acquiescence and hurried to do what I was told.

  ♥

  Dinner went splendidly. Mikhail seemed happy enough. He poured on the charm. I wore a simple shift dress that went to my knees and the scoop neck was just low enough for the barest hint of cleavage. I thought it was tasteful while meeting ‘high in the instep’ type people Mikhail wouldn’t shut up about. On my feet, were matching Jimmy Cho’s Mikhail insisted I wear.

  I looked nice with Mikhail’s hand attached to my hip while he talked business with his guest, Mr. Winston. We were made for each other in public. The small town demure girl and a high brow-businessman. In private, was a totally different story if anyone who bothered to look under the surface could imagine.

  ♥

  After the Winston’s left, Mikhail shut and locked the door, before turning and stepping into the kitchen to check on me.

  “You did very well tonight. Except for that dress.”

  I looked down at myself to see what was wrong but not seeing anything, I looked back at him in confusion.

  “What’s wrong with this dress? It’s demure and elegant. Just like Mrs. Winston said and complimented me on.”

  Mikhail walked up to me and placed a palm over the small line of cleavage showing.

  “This,” gesturing to my breasts, “is not demure. Especially in front of a man I’m trying to get to invest in my father’s bank. You teased him with showing off your big tits. You might as well have shoved your big ass in his face screaming ‘screw me’!”

  I couldn’t help but show my shock. I was in total shock, with a heavy dose of denial. This dress was the peak of appropriateness and femininity. So here I go, letting the sparks of self-righteousness and anger inside me go free.