Indebted Heart

by Stone, Measha

  Indebted Heart

  Measha Stone

  Copyright © 2019 by Measha Stone

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  LIBERATED HEART

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Measha Stone

  Chapter 1

  Alex Tribelli switched lanes on the I-90 headed west toward Elgin to meet his father. Normally, he wouldn’t be heading out to the suburbs in the middle of the week, but he had been beckoned—and no one refused Paul Tribelli, least of all his only child.

  Thankfully, the rush hour traffic began to die down before he’d been able to free himself from his office. Trying to hold down one career while launching a second was beginning to take its toll.

  Although he loved advertising and the success he’d found with it, he had longed for something more—more meaningful, exciting, something that allowed him to be himself with no thoughts of apology or remorse. Opening up the new members’ club, Top Floor, had been just the sort of outlet he’d needed. However, it had meant more evenings at the club and early mornings at the ad agency. His father had apparently grown tired of Alex’s excuses of unavailability over the past few weeks.

  The conversation hadn’t been long. His father didn’t even ask how he was doing. He simply told him to come over straight after work, his tone leaving no room for argument. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t seen the man in several weeks, and he missed him.

  Soft yellow illuminated the small porch of the brick ranch as Alex pulled his car up the driveway. Shifting the car into park, he got out and made his way up the walkway to the house. The summer sun had finally set, and the humidity of the day seemed slightly less annoying. The beckoning of the air conditioning inside made him quicken his step as he took the steps two at a time. The front door pulled open, and his father pushed the screen door to allow Alex entrance.

  Paul Tribelli stood the same height as his son, matching him eye to eye. They shared equal stature as well. Alex’s well-toned physique was a product of the gym, however, while Paul’s was a tribute to his years of back-breaking construction work.

  “Hey, Dad.” Alex clapped his father on the back while pulling him into a tight hug. “Everything okay? You sounded pissed on the phone.”

  Paul shut the door and motioned toward the kitchen. “I made pasta.” He walked past his son and led them into the small, eat-in kitchen.

  The room smelled the same as it had when Alex was a boy. Food had always been cooking. He’d spent his afternoons doing homework in the kitchen while his mother stirred a pot, rolled out dough, or chopped vegetables.

  He took his seat at the cozy table that sat four comfortably, five in desperation. A plate of spaghetti appeared in front of him as well as his fork and knife. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and placed it on one of the empty chairs. His father plated another serving and sat across from Alex.

  “You’re freaking me out, what is it?” Alex said, getting up to grab a beer from the same olive-green refrigerator he’d grab afterschool snacks from.

  “Two weeks since I’ve seen you.” His father held up two fingers, wagging them in the air. A slight squint to his eyes, and a wrinkling of his cheeks summed up his emotional state.

  “Dad, I’m sorry. Work—”

  “Eh! Work!” He waved a hand through the air to cut him off. “I know how it is. I do.” There had been many nights Alex would have dinner alone with his mother because his father was stuck on site. “It’s just…I’ve missed you.” He gave a shrug and dug into his pasta.

  “Is that what you wanted? You could have just said so, I would have come.”

  “Would you?” His father squinted again.

  Alex took a pull of his beer and sighed. “I don’t know.” He knew in his heart he probably would have tried to push it off until the weekend. There was an open house for Top Floor going on he had hoped to spearhead. He’d had to ask Bradley, a large investor who took a hands-on approach in the management of the club, to take his place for the evening.

  “There you go. Now, eat.” Paul pointed to the untouched pasta with his fork.

  The two spent the rest of their meal talking about the usual. Paul gave him the details of the latest gossip he’d heard at the senior center, and Alex promptly teased him, calling him an old woman. In truth, Alex was glad to see his father out and socializing. When his mother died two years ago, Paul lost himself for a while. He hadn't wanted to see or talk to anyone. He just wanted to grieve in a dark, empty home. It took the empty threat of Alex throwing him into an old folks’ home to get him to snap out of it. He’d raged at him for even having the idea. Alex took the verbal lashing willingly, because his father slowly came back to him.

  “Son.” Paul leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on the table. Alex turned from the sink where he had just finished washing their dishes and leaned against the counter, giving his father his full attention. “I have a confession.” He kept his eyes forward, not looking at Alex. “I have a favor to ask you, and I didn’t want to ask over the phone.” He swung his deep green eyes to Alex, meeting his gaze. Alex noted the concern.

  “Okay. What is it?” Alex tossed the towel he’d been drying his hands with onto the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “It can’t be all that bad.”

  “No, no, it’s not bad. It’s just…you’re so busy, and this…well, it’s gonna take some of your time.” A pang gripped his chest. After all the things his father had done for him over the years, he felt guilty about asking for some of Alex’s time. Obviously, he needed to rearrange his schedule a bit better.

  “Whatever it is, Dad, no problem. Consider it done. What is it?”

  “Well, an old friend of mine…her daughter is moving to the city.” He looked uncomfortable as he continued. “She’s never lived in a big city before, grew up just south of St. Louis. Anyway, she doesn’t know anyone here and I thought you might be able to show her around. Maybe introduce her to the girls?” Paul had always taken a fatherly interest in Jessica, Kelly, and Erin.

  “I don’t see how that’s inconvenient. When is she arriving? I’m meeting everyone for dinner on Friday, she can join us.” When his father didn’t relax, he thought of another worry. “You aren't trying to set me up, are you?” His father snapped his eyes to meet Alex’s.

  “No! Of course not!” he grumbled. “You’ll find your woman, your way, in your time. Although, I will say you sure are taking your sweet ass time.”

  “Okay.” Wanting to move away from the subject of his love life, he brought the topic
back to the favor. “So, when is this girl arriving. Young? Going to school? Have a job?”

  “She’s a year or two younger than you, I think. No school, her mother wasn’t concerned with her education. She’s got an interview lined up, some club downtown—don’t remember which one she said. It’s new.”

  “If it’s been around for the last fifty years, would you know it?” Alex reached for the door to the fridge to grab a second beer.

  “Smartass.” His father laughed until a bout of coughing took over. He gripped the edge of the table as the deep crackling became more fierce. Alex left the fridge open and moved to him, rubbing his back hard. Paul had been fighting off a harsh cough for over a month, and although Alex told him over and over to go to the doctor, his father refused.

  Slowly, the cough subsided, leaving Paul winded from the effort of trying to breathe through the attack. He pushed Alex away and waved him off. “I’m fine,” he declared, resting his head on his hand. Alex shook his head, but left him to retrieve the beer he’d abandoned in the fridge.

  “Dad, you need to see the doctor. It’s getting worse.” Alex sat back in his chair with his now open beer, watching his father reclaim his breath.

  “I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Paul looked up and gave Alex the same glare he had as a child—a warning to let it drop or there’d be hell to pay. Paul had never raised a hand to Alex, but his tongue lashings and hours of hard labor following were nothing to laugh about.

  As a child, Alex idolized his father. Paul was a guy’s guy, the man every dad in the neighborhood clapped on the back and made sure to wave hello to when they saw him. He was respected, wise, and rational. When other dads would bellow at their sons to do better on the ball field, Paul would yell encouragement and give tips in a soft manner between innings. Alex never feared his father’s anger, but he sure did everything he could to avoid his disappointment.

  Paul worked his ass off for the construction company he and his brother inherited from their father. Long days and even longer nights were spent working the books, planning projects, putting in bids for new projects. He showed Alex exactly what it meant to put in an honest day's work. When Paul’s brother died suddenly of a heart attack, Alex’s mother, Marie, thought he would slow down too, take the hint, as she’d said. But Paul didn’t know the meaning of slow.

  No matter how busy, Paul always seemed to find a way to spend time with Alex. He never once missed a baseball game. And every Sunday, the three of them would pile into the second pew of the Divine Savior Church before heading to the local pancake house for breakfast.

  Seeing the man he always looked up to glaring at him and refusing to get help for something like a cough irritated Alex. He controlled his emotions well, but Alex was finding it difficult not to throw the bottle of beer at his father and demand he get his ass in his car and see the doctor. If he were a woman, his woman, he’d have no trouble taking control of the situation. However, this was his father. He heaved out a sigh. “Fine. Now, this girl—what’s her name and how do I get a hold of her?”

  Chapter 2

  Alyssa Sanders stepped onto Canal Street and took a deep breath, the overwhelming smell of exhaust fumes from Union Station filling her lungs. She took smaller breaths until her lungs cleared and adjusted to the city air, then waved down a cab, wanting nothing more than to get to her hotel.

  The train ride from St. Louis took two hours longer than expected thanks to a delayed arrival. For the better part of the ride, she had been stuck sitting next to an older man who didn’t have the decency to pretend he wasn’t gawking at her breasts. Even after she put her sweat jacket on and zipped it up to her chin, his gaze continued to grope her. The weekend was shaping up to be worse than her week had been. A hot shower and a bed would be heaven.

  She relaxed against the back of the seat as the cab driver maneuvered through the afternoon traffic. A month ago, everything had been normal. Not great, but normal. She had a job, an apartment, and was feeling like things were finally on the right track for her. It didn’t take much to make everything blow up around her. Her boss at the small-town bar announced he was shutting down. No warning, no severance package, just locking up and selling the property. She went home to lick her wounds, only to find her roommate packing. Apparently, her two-night-stand was the real deal, and she was moving in with him, leaving Alyssa with an unaffordable rent payment.

  The only thing keeping her sane at the moment was the prospect of a new start in the big city. She was all too happy to buy a train ticket out of St. Louis and head up to Chicago. She’d always wanted to live in the city. As a young girl, she spent several summers with her grandmother on the Northside. Every weekend, they took the train downtown, visiting museums, parks, or dips in the chilly water of Lake Michigan. She loved her time with her grandmother and found the city to be full of life and hope—nothing like the life she lived back in Missouri with her mother.

  After taking a day to wallow in her own self-pity, she’d decided to wipe off the grime and look for a new adventure—something that would get her away from that waste of a town. There was an ad for several openings at a new club in Chicago. She wasted no time cashing out her savings and getting a train ticket. A few calls were placed for apartments, and before she had time to absorb what she was doing, she found herself headed north.

  An old friend lived in the area, and she had managed to get a hold of him just a few days before. As usual, he lectured her about being safe and making solid decisions. He wouldn’t let her off the phone until she gave him the rundown of her plans. She would stay at a hotel until she could track down an apartment and a job. She had just enough savings to get her through a few months. Only after assuring him she had enough money to embark on her adventure did he lighten up and give her a few ideas of areas to look into. The last time she’d been in the city was as a young girl; she didn’t know where anything was or what areas were good. Her ex-boyfriend even helped by calling in a favor to get her an interview. It didn’t surprise her he would have a friend in Chicago, or that he was part owner of a new BDSM club.

  Her cab pulled up to Hotel Indigo on Dearborn and promptly required payment. She barely managed to look out the window at the deep blue awning and expansive height before she was thrust onto the curb with her bags at her feet. With a deep breath, she took in her surroundings.

  When she had booked the hotel, she had worried the low cost of the room would equal low quality of the building, but the appearance calmed her worry. The lobby was stunning compared to any motel she had ever stayed in before. The wood flooring practically shined, and the wonderful contrasts of blues and greens provided a soothing atmosphere.

  The lady at the front desk checked her in and offered assistance to her room, which she declined. She only had the two bags and her pockets weren't brimming with tip money. The room surprised her even more than the lobby. The deep, vibrant colors swept her away from the dreary morning she had awakened to in Smithton just southeast of St. Louis. It reminded her of the art galleries her grandmother took her to during her visits. She pitched her bags onto the bright orange armchair and tossed herself onto the lush bed.

  “This is the starting line, Alyssa,” she announced to the empty room. “This is where it begins.” A large grin crept over her lips, and she found herself staring up at the ceiling like a loon. Leaping up, she threw back the curtains and drew in her breath at the sight before her. The lakefront was only a few blocks away, within walking distance for sure. Her cell buzzed, alerting her to the fact that she had an appointment to look at an apartment.

  Several hours later, Alyssa sank into the tub of her hotel room, letting the bubbles reach the tip of her nose. The afternoon, however productive, had left her exhausted. After viewing six apartments, she managed to find one clean enough to live in and within her budget. The size wasn’t very impressive, a tiny studio rarely is, but it was furnished, and it was cheap. After she had cleared the background check and handed over the deposit
, the landlord assured her she’d be able to move in by midweek.

  The next item to deal with was employment. The landlord hadn’t been excited about starting the paperwork on her apartment without a job to back her up, but the three months’ rent seemed to appease the little man well enough. The bar she waitressed at was miniscule compared to the clubs of the city, but it was the only skill she had to work with at the moment.

  Growing up with a single mother who thought more about where to get her next sugar daddy than making sure her little girl received a well-rounded education left her with little skills. Alyssa had managed to get through high school barely hanging on to honor roll, but with no help from her mother. When she wasn’t working, she spent tireless hours at the library.

  “You need to pull your own weight.” Her mother had told her time and time again. Alyssa worked at the food court in the mall to earn enough to keep herself clothed and bus fare in her pocket. Whatever little extra she had, her mother took to pay the rent if she was between boyfriends. Alyssa stopped caring about the endless line of boyfriends her mother had paraded through the house in middle school.

  Only one of them ever made a real impact. Alyssa met him accidentally the night he came home with her mother. Most of her mom’s boyfriends ignored Alyssa, shooing her away, but that night, this man took a few minutes to talk to her. He ended up leaving before her mother could work her magic on him for rent money. But he came back every year and made a point of stopping by to check in on Alyssa.