Interrupted Vol 1

by S. Moose

  By S. Moose

  Copyright © 2014 S. Moose

  Interrupted Volume 1

  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.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are

  the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by EmCat Designs

  https://www.facebook.com/EmCatDesigns

  Editing and interior design by Snow Editing

  www.SnowEditing.com

  Cover image used under license from

  http://www.dollarphotoclub.com

  Dedication

  To everyone who pushed me to write Interrupted and get out

  of my comfort zone. Your words of encouragement, faith and love

  means the world to me, so thank you for always believing in me, even when I stopped believing in myself.

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  IT’S BEEN TEN YEARS.

  Three thousand, six hundred and fifty-two days since he left. Lying on the couch, clinging to the box of our memories, I try to hold back the tears. Digging deep inside I try to find the strong woman, hoping to find the voice that’ll help me through this, but she’s not here.

  Pushing the box away from my chest, my eyes land on the cover. The beige, almost perfect, shoebox cover holds my past, a past I visit once a year, but I don’t open the box. Not ever. Every year, on June 13, I get the same feeling — alone and scared. Even though I’ve moved on, I still feel like the eighteen-year-old girl waiting.

  Touching the cover of the box, I rest my hand on top, not moving. I’m scared to look at the pictures and objects that represented us. Seeing these things will bring back the memories of the boy who stole my heart when I was twelve and held my hand when I needed him to.

  In twenty-seven years, I’ve endured more loss and heartbreak than anyone should have to experience: losing the love of my life, losing my parents and losing my son, Patrick.

  I’m Cam VonWart, also known as Cam Ellison. I’m the woman with everything but nothing at all.

  Does that make sense?

  It’s been ten years.

  Three thousand, six hundred and fifty-two days since he left.

  I keep wondering where he is and what he’s doing. His smile never leaves my mind. The connection between us still pulls on my heart. It’s a connection that never weakens, no matter who I’m with. His eyes, the way they shined when he’d see me, stay in my heart.

  “THANKS FOR TONIGHT.” I get up from the bed, putting on my clothes. I need to get the fuck out of here. I don’t spend the night with women I fuck. I’m the ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’ type of man. If you spend the night with a woman she’ll think you want more, and I do not want more.

  “No, thank you, baby. Come here and spend the night with me. We can go at it again in the morning and spend the day together. I can show you more of Paris.”

  Looking at my watch I see the time. Fuck. I’m late, and I’m never late. Cocking my brow and leaving my expression emotionless, I don’t acknowledge her request. Although the offer sounds tempting, I’m over her pussy. I spent too much time with her already. Blame it on the Remy. Blame it on the Goose. Blame it on my cock and her fine pussy.

  The white sheet slides off her body showing off her fake boobs. I look away, not needing to be bothered with the sight of her double D’s.

  After dining with her in the downstairs restaurant, I brought her back to my room and demanded she shower before my mouth and dick met her pussy. I made sure she was clean because no one wants a stale-smelling pussy.

  We fucked everywhere in the hotel room, from the bathroom to the bedroom. She was a pretty good fuck too, but I have rules. She did her job satisfying me, and I don’t have any use for her anymore.

  “No, I’m all right.”

  “Wait, what? You’re leaving?” She slides out of the bed, naked, rubbing her body against mine. “Don’t you wanna fuck my ass again? Play time’s not over yet. We totally connected, don’t you think?”

  Great, a woman who wants to talk and stick by my side because she rode my cock once. I know he’s awesome because I taught him well, but my cock doesn’t like fucking the same pussy twice. I need to cut her out fast before she starts planning our fucking wedding. I have two rules. Rule number one, I don’t do relationships; and rule number two, I don’t see the same woman more than once. I don’t care if her pussy is gold. One time only. When you give women more than one night, they’ll fucking take your heart and stomp the shit out of it until you’re nothing. Just a soulless man, waiting. Fucking waiting.

  “It’s over. I don’t feel like playing with the same toy again. It gets boring. Listen doll, you sucked my cock, rode me,and let me fuck your ass. It was good. Not the best, but good.” I touch her face, “you’re cute, but I’m done.” Kissing her cheek, I grab my jacket and head for the door. I move to the right just as a glass crashes against the wall. Typical and predictable.

  “You’re a fucking asshole!”

  “I get that a lot. You aren’t the first woman to say that to me, and you won’t be the last.”

  Leaving the hotel room, I head down to my limo and head back to my hotel. I don’t bring women I’m fucking to the hotel I’m staying in. I’d rather not deal with crazy broads. During my time in Paris, I’ve had my fill of Parisian pussy. Kinky as hell, but not enough for me to break my rules. There’s enough pussy in the world. I don’t need the same one twice.

  As soon as I walk inside my room, I check on the two most important people to me, making sure they’re okay. My mother and son are fast asleep, away from the fucked up world in which I live.

  Heading back out to the living area, I place three ice cubes in a tumbler and pour the liquid amber of Cognac in the glass. Taking a seat on the chair, crossing my right ankle on top of my knee, bring the glass to my lips and take a healthy gulp. It easily slides down my throat, burning on the way down. Putting down the glass on my desk, I pull out the files I need. Turning the pages, I review what I need to know. Reaching for my glass, I pick it up, resting it on my chin. Everything needs to be perfect. It’s been too fucking long. Gripping the glass hard, I take it all in one gulp, fill and repeat.

  I’ve been a patient man, working my ass off to give my son a great life and give myself a name, a name people recognize and fear, getting what I want. Except her. It’s been a long and lonely road, but I’m done with the games. Things need to start moving faster. I need to start putting my plans into motion.

  It’s time. I’ll be back in a few weeks.

  -Sharp

  Sending the email I click back to my inbox and answer the last few emai
ls confirming meetings and events. Owning your own business is hard work, but I fucking love it. This company is my life, and I’ve worked too damn hard to let it slip away. I have only the best and most loyal people working for me. I cut out idiots and don’t waste my time on those who don’t care. When people care about their work, your business grows, so I show them what it’s like to be part of Sharp Security Incorporated with generous bonuses, health benefits, vacation and sick time, and feeling like they’re part of a family. Isn’t that what people want? To belong?

  An email from my personal assistant comes in.

  Sharp-

  I hope you’re enjoying all the European pussy you’re getting. Disgusting man. Make sure you wrap it, and don’t bring anything back with you unless it says Louis Vuitton (for me of course).

  Everything in the office is good. Taylor’s pissed at you, as usual. I hope you’re coming back in a better mood and don’t go on a firing rampage. We need a few new people, so I’ve attached a plethora of resumes to this email for your reviewing pleasure ;)

  I’m glad you’re coming back soon. The office is quiet without your lovely voice booming through the halls.

  Seriously, Sharp! Lighten up. It’ll all work out. Give Grayson kisses for me. See you in a few weeks, Sunshine.

  -Natalie

  If she hadn’t been with me for almost two years, I would have fired her because of this shit email. I’m fine and will be fine. I’ve always been fine. People need to relax and stop asking me and telling me everything’s going to be okay. Looking through the resumes, I trash each one before coming across one that catches my eye. Cam VonWart. Reading through her resume I’m thoroughly impressed with her studies and accomplishments, but no job history. Stroking my chin, I think about whether it’s smart to hire someone without any experience. Sure she has her diploma from a prestigious college and graduated at the top of her class, but is she street smart? Will she be able to think on her feet?

  Natalie-

  Schedule Camila VonWart for an interview.

  -Sharp

  Finishing my drink, I’m about to head to bed when my email pings. A smile spreads across my face.

  Sharp-

  Whatever you say. I’ll schedule her to meet with Taylor sometime this week. Talk soon.

  -Natalie

  Closing out of her email, I step outside on the balcony and take in the June night air. I inhale the quiet air, forcing myself to breathe and concentrate. Looking out at nothing in particular, I close my eyes and feel my chest constricting. Gripping the cold steel railing, I bend my head down and close my eyes. Fuck, I hate feeling like a damn pussy. I focus on Grayson, the only right thing I’ve done in my life, and slowly feel myself grasping a hold of my emotions.

  Heading inside, I get into bed, folding my arms under my head. Tonight’s been a clusterfuck of a mess. Being with Bimbo Barbie didn’t help. Nothing does.

  Closing my eyes, I think about her.

  • • •

  Waking up in a pool of cold sweat, I look around the dark room, realizing it’s just me in here. Releasing a forceful sigh and attempting to catch my breath, I lay back down. The dullness in my chest grows, leaving me restless and awake. Rubbing my face, I close my eyes again, but fuck, it’s not working. Turning on my right side, I see the time and decide it’s time to get up after only sleeping for three hours. It’s been months since my last nightmare, but now it’s coming back. The scenes play in my head and each time is the same no matter what I do. I always lose her in the end.

  Putting on my white shirt, I head to the kitchen and wait for the coffee to brew. Standing in the middle of the kitchen alone, I feel like a small child who has been waiting his entire life for something with meaning. I’m not the millionaire man; I’m the lost boy standing in a middle of a dimly lit room, searching, always searching.

  Shaking away those thoughts, I pull out my phone and send Natalie an email telling her to take care of the emails letting people know I’ll be unavailable today.

  When the coffee finishes brewing, I take the steaming cup and head into my office and out on the balcony. Slowly taking small sips, I run through the plan I have in my head. I’ve examined each step to ensure it’s fool proof; it is. I think about Grayson and hope I’m making the right decisions. I’ll see him in a few hours, and he’ll get to experience Paris with me. Even if he won’t remember this trip, I will. As a father, I want my son to have everything in the world. Since I can afford it, I’m going to do whatever I can to give him everything. That’s the most important thing for Grayson. He’ll always know he’s loved and cared for. I want to give him a life I never had and give him experiences that’ll teach him how to be strong, how to read people and understand body language. It’s what’s kept me alive.

  Walking back inside, I settle on the chair in front of my computer. Something catches my eye, and I find it staring at me. The framed photograph of her smiling has saved me more than once. I remember the day that photo was taken, the way her hair whipped in the wind, the sun shining off the strands in prisms. She’s smiling at me, showing me how much she loves me. There’s love in her bright eyes, letting me know everything will be okay. Pushing aside the picture, I refocus and stare at my computer. I can’t get distracted.

  LOOKING THROUGH MY EMAIL, I come across one from Sharp Securities Inc. Clicking on the message, I can’t believe what I’m reading.

  Mrs. Camila VonWart,

  We’d like to schedule an interview with you sometime this week. Our CEO, Mr. Sharp, is very interested in bringing you on board. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.

  Sincerely,

  Natalie Baum

  Personal Assistant to Mr. Sharp

  It’s been a few years since I’ve graduated with my degree from RIT, and frankly I’m bored being home all day as a stay-at-home wife. There’s only so much I can do. I type a quick response back to Natalie and finish getting ready for Henry’s second annual gala at the Hilton.

  Slipping on my dark plum, sleeveless dress, I smooth down the front, admiring how I look this evening. I’m not vain or conceited whatsoever, but this dress makes me feel sexy. The tight bodice enhances my curves, accentuating my hips and defining my waist. Turning around to the side, I smile and mentally thank my personal trainer for my nice, squat ass.

  “Wow,” Henry says, making his way over to me, kissing my lips. “You look amazing, Sweetheart.”

  “Why, thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself, Handsome.” His hands wrap around my hips as he kisses me again. “Thank you for helping me organize the gala tonight. I don’t know where I’d be without you, Cam.”

  “And you’ll never have to know, Henry. I’m your partner for life, through the good and the bad. No matter what life brings us, we’ll get through it because we love each other. Don’t worry about tonight. Everything will be great, and we’ll have a nice evening with our friends. Then tonight,” I wink, “I’ll show you what’s underneath the dress.”

  “Can’t wait.” He brushes his finger against my blushed cheeks to my collarbone. Our eyes stay connected as he sets my body on fire. His lips touch my shoulder as his hand slides down my back to my ass. Giving it a little squeeze, I throw my head back laughing, bringing his head to my neck. I feel his lips kissing me, going up my neck to my lips. I love moments like this.

  Our limo waits for us outside the house and the drive is quiet. Looking over at Henry, I really take in how handsome he is with his tall, lean, runner’s body and shaggy brown hair. But his eyes, his silver eyes, are what makes me weak. Leaning in closer, I place my head on his shoulder and my hand on his knee. Life truly cannot get any better.

  Walking into the banquet hall at the Hilton with Henry by my side, I’m amazed and so impressed with the way the room’s set up. The aroma of roses and sandalwood fill the room as we walk around taking in the beauty and elegance. The soft lights are dim as people are mingling, enjoying the hand-pressed hors d’oeuvres and champagne. There’s soft piano music playi
ng in the background and it brings me to a different time, but I brush away that moment and focus on my husband, the man of the hour.

  The silver, white, and black decorations give the room a little more pizzazz with lanterns floating across the high ceilings and candles surrounding the room. We wanted the ballroom to bring comfort and a night where pain doesn’t exist. Tonight stands as a night for everyone to come together so questions can be answered and miracles can be created.

  The white rose petals scattered across black tablecloths each hold a card with a couple’s journey, telling their story of starting a family and finding Henry and Martin.

  “Camila, if you don’t mind I need to speak to Martin.”

  “Okay, I’m going to find Suzanne.”

  I watch my husband walking away, feeling nothing but pride and joy knowing what he’s done.

  “Cam! You look incredible.”

  “Thank you, Suzanne! Look at you! Didn’t you just have Thomas?”

  She blushes, knowing she looks amazing in her skin-tight, dark-green ball gown. “Yes. He’ll be four months in a few weeks. Do stop by soon. We need to catch up,” Suzanne looks around, slowly approaching me. “I have some juicy gossip for you.”

  “Oh, let’s plan a coffee date,” I smile, whispering back.

  Henry and Martin, Suzanne’s husband, work the room while we talk. The annual gala for their practice is always a wonderful event, bringing new light to their medical advances with in vitro fertilization. Looking around the room, seeing their success, brings a smile to my face. They’ve worked so hard to get through medical school and opening their own practice.

  If only I can be part of their success.

  “How are you doing?” She asks, lightly touching my arm.

  Closing my eyes, I steady my breathing. I hate when people ask how I am. What am I supposed to say? Oh I’m doing fine! My son died and I never got to hold him or see him.

  “Better,” I muster a smile. “It’s hard, but we have an appointment to try again.”