Enigma

by Aimee Ash

  ENIGMA

  AIMEE ASH

  www.aimeeash.co.uk

  E-book Edition Published By

  Aimee Ash

  Enigma

  Copyright 2012 by Aimee Ash

  First Edition – December 2011

  Second Edition – February 2012

  Third Edition – October 2012

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  E-book Edition License Notes

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Other books available from Aimee Ash

  ENIGMA TRILOGY

  Enigma

  Revenge (coming soon)

  SUPERNATURAL SAGA

  Blood on the Moon

  Valentine’s Ghost

  A Touch of Magic

  Hunted

  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

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to those who believe that love is eternal, and as long as we hold onto it, we will always have it.

  With thanks to my dear husband who has supported and never doubted me, my children who have shown me what unconditional love truly is, my parents who taught me to fulfill my dreams and my forever friends, Claire and Michelle, who have encouraged me throughout writing this book and have shown me what true friends are. I love you all.

  Preface

  Somebody wise once told me to look into the eyes of love and ask myself what I see, for love reaches out to us in mysterious ways and at moments when we are least expecting it. Longing and hoping for your dreams to come true will only stand in the way of what fate might bring. Free yourself from doubt and allow yourself to be loved, and its presence will bring its magic in abundance. If you open your mind and your heart, you will never feel alone again.

  Always remember: anything is possible . . .

  CHAPTER 1

  The Californian sun beamed brightly through my windows. Wincing, I peeked at my clock. It was eight, and time for me to get up, but I couldn’t resist having five more minutes of peace before chaos erupted. We had moved into our new house late yesterday afternoon, and after spending the remainder of the day unpacking, I was exhausted. This was our fifth move in six years and I was quite a pro at upheaval; I hadn’t even bothered unpacking some of my boxes from when we had moved the last time. Every gated community now looked the same to me; even the people somehow seemed familiar.

  My father, Doctor Bryce Harris, had promised that this would be our last move for at least a couple of years. He’d bought an office in the heart of Long Beach, where plastic surgery was routine for the wealthy. My father had dragged us around the country and had made quite a reputable name for himself. Whatever you wanted lifted, tucked, enhanced, reduced, reconstructed, implanted, or sucked out, he could do it—for a price, of course. My mother was Exhibit A, and my ghastly, narcissistic sister, Heather, was Exhibit B; I had no intention of becoming Exhibit C.

  Feeling a sense of despair, I hoped that we could finally settle, especially since I was starting college the next day. While I convinced myself to get out of my comfortable bed, a familiar feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Ever since I can remember, I’d felt emotionally deprived; I’d never had a best friend and I was always the new girl: popular for the first week and then dropped like a lead balloon when old friends reunited. I only wanted to belong, to feel connected to someone or someplace, but after our fifth move, I decided it wasn’t even worth making the effort to find a friend; the pain of rejection was dreadful.

  Feeling refreshed after a hot shower, I was as ready as I’d ever be. I sauntered down the grand, gold-trimmed staircase, knowing exactly what everyone would be doing in the kitchen before I walked through the door. Even though we’d moved, the breakfast routine remained the same. My mother, Camilla Harris, would have a pot of camomile tea placed to her left and would be eating a berry and banana fruit salad with organic probiotic yogurt—zero fat. Her rosy cheekbones would exaggerate themselves as she sipped her tea, and her champagne-blonde, bobbed hair would bounce above her slender shoulders as she reached across the table for the newspaper that she didn’t actually have any interest in reading.

  Ahh yes, then there’s my older sister. Heather would be back from her morning walk wearing her custom-made, shape-up sneakers, yet she wouldn’t have broken into a sweat. She would be sitting with her spindly legs crossed while sipping a fruit smoothie, with her thin lips firmly clasped around an eco-friendly straw, avoiding all traces of carbohydrates. Her long, platinum-blonde hair would fall around her skinny face and she would glare at me while I ate pancakes—her worst enemy. Almost every day, she’d tell us that being a model was a lifestyle for her, not just a job, and then we’d hear about how it took dedication and commitment to look as good as she did.

  And let’s not forget my father. He would be rushing out while eating the last of his breakfast to tend to his patients who made appointments at unearthly hours to avoid being seen in daylight. His clothes—as predictable as he was—would be freshly pressed. He’d be wearing a fitted shirt with his initials embroidered on the chest, and it would be complimented by expensive cuff links that matched the gold clasp on his imported silk tie. His brown, Italian-leather loafers would complete his outfit and as he slipped into his silver Mercedes-Benz, he’d wave to the neighbors, making sure everyone had seen him. I’d cringe by the window and watch as the neighbors shook their heads as he turned the corner.

  As for my baby brother, Brett, who knew when he would surface? He would have been out all night at yet another keg party, and I had no doubt that he would have drank far too much, like he always did. His tendency to show off around girls had gotten out of control, but he loved the attention far too much to stop. Being such a popular high school heartthrob was a full-time job for him. His tousled, wavy-blonde hair and soft gray eyes were just two of the many things he had going for him. But he could be so much more than he wanted to be.

  Sometimes I thought that Brett deliberately aimed to fail just to irk our father, who had nothing but negative words for him. I’d cringe as my father shouted at and demoralized Brett, tearing him apart with every word when he thought nobody was listening.

  After his outburst, my dad would retreat to the garden to suck on a cigar and Brett would sulk off to his bedroom. I’d tiptoe to his door and listen to him cry. Sometimes he’d throw books around the room, and then sometimes there would be nothing but silence. When there w
as silence, I knew I had to watch him. Before I entered the kitchen, I paused and glanced at my reflection in the antique, pewter mirror, which had hung in the foyer of every house we’d ever lived in. It was a hideous, gothic, and eerie-looking family heirloom given to my father by his great uncle. I let down my wavy, ash-blonde hair and weaved my fingers through it, trying to rearrange it in an attempt at making myself look like less of a tousled mess. My pale complexion accentuated the dark circles under my sunken eyes. Heather would say that I needed a good dose of vitamin D. I turned to the side, placing my hands down the length of my thighs, and studied my figure. The skinny jeans I wore hugged me in the right places and my loose shirt covered my flaws. My lack of trendy dress sense annoyed my mother, and Heather always had something to say about my casual attire.

  Approving myself for the day, I stepped into the kitchen and smelled something delicious. I was ready to eat and get out of there; I had more unpacking to do, and I had to prepare for my first day of college. As I sat at the table, Heather glared at me with her bright, blue eyes, inspecting my clothes as usual. Her long and wiry platinum-blonde hair flowed neatly down her back and with her every move, it gracefully fell around her face, making her beauty even more apparent. She was a bitch, but a beautiful bitch. My mother looked up from her newspaper and joined Heather in observing me.

  “Kate, darling, are you okay? You aren’t wearing any makeup, not even a dash of mascara. Oh, look at you.” She wrinkled her nose and poked at my pale face.

  “Mom, don’t fuss with her. She hates it. Just leave her alone. If she wants to look that way, then let her face the consequences,” Heather said.

  “Heather, you should look out for Kate.”

  “I have been, Mom. But I’ve lost count of the times I’ve told her about the importance of vitamin D. If she didn’t sulk around the house like a vampire, then perhaps she would’ve heard of that yellow thing in the sky.” Heather smiled at me with pure evil hidden behind her shiny, veneered teeth. My mother shot her a disapproving look.

  “I’m not fussing; I just want Kate to make the best of what she has,” she said, while pouting at me in an attempt to offer me sympathy for my plain looks.

  I hung my head and placed a napkin on my lap. My confidence was already low and it had just taken another hit. I’d accepted early on in life that it was stupid to consider myself anything but average, especially when standing next to Heather, whom I avoided as much as possible. It was Brett who had reassured me that I didn’t look like Frankenstein’s bride; he said I looked like a normal girl and there was nothing wrong with that.

  I took a sip of juice and looked around the new kitchen, which looked pretty much the same as all the others. It had all the usual features and marble countertops—predictable really. Heather eyed me while stirring her smoothie. She was just as predictable as anything else in the kitchen and was quick to pass another unwanted comment.

  “Please tell me you’ve unpacked some of your halfway-decent clothes. For your sake, do not go dressed like a boy for your first day in college. If you have any hope of joining a sorority, then put some makeup on your pale face and treat your feet to some heels. You can’t rely solely on our family name to get you by; you have to make an effort.” Heather flicked her hair away from her eyes. She had a degree in deceit and honors in manipulation, although my mother thought every word that came out of her mouth was the absolute truth. But I knew different.

  I refused to give Heather the satisfaction of even looking over at her. She would be itching for a reaction from me and as much as I wanted to give her hell for being so mean, I refrained, knowing that ignoring her would annoy her more.

  I walked over to Nanny Flo and stood behind her, avoiding her silver gray hair, which was wound up into a neat bun. I bent down to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Flo had been my ally since I was born; she was my role model and had been nothing but an inspiration to me. Every time I felt low, I’d think of her smooth chocolate brown eyes looking at me, and would remember her telling me what really mattered in life. She insisted that our fate and happiness was guided by our own destiny, and that anything in life was attainable with positivity and drive. Flo was certainly a true Italian lady; she could put you in your place in a heartbeat, but would also smother you with kisses. She’d been like a mother to me; she was the mother that every child would want—a mother that every child deserved.

  When I was thirteen, I found Nanny Flo sobbing in the garden. I’d never seen her cry before, so I put my arm around her and she held me so tight, like she would never let me go. That day, she told me a secret she had buried inside of her for years. Nanny Flo confessed that sixteen years ago, she’d given birth to a beautiful baby girl named Maddelena.

  While shopping at their local market in Italy, Maddelena, who’d just turned three years old, went missing. Flo searched for her baby girl for years, hoping that one day she would find her, but Maddelena had never been found. Her obsession with finding her daughter eventually destroyed her marriage. Sadly, she never had more children and never found love again. After ten years of searching for the missing piece of her heart, Flo moved to California to start a new life. She came to work for my parents two days after Heather was born, and since that day, she moved wherever we moved, truly dedicated to our family.

  Flo changed my diapers, prepared my bottles, cooked all my meals, and took me to the park to feed the birds. As I grew up, she would sit and listen to me read, and was the one who came to my piano recitals. She always tied my hair in pretty pigtails with matching ribbons and bows and told me how beautiful I was. It was Flo who tucked me in at bedtime and always gave me a kiss on my cheek after reading my favorite bedtime story once again with no complaint. One day, she confessed to me that I was her favorite of the Harris children; I loved being her favorite; she made me feel incredibly special, and it was lovely to feel wanted.

  Flo turned to face me. “You want blueberry pancakes, or is it chocolate chip today, Bambino?”

  “Oh, I think it’s a chocolate chip day today, Flo,” I answered.

  She laughed as she reached for the chocolate chips. “It’s always a chocolate chip day for you, my lovely Kate.”

  I held my hand out and Flo poured chocolate chips into my palm. I threw them into my mouth and saw Heather roll her eyes at me with disgust. It was hard not to lower myself to her level, but I could see her getting more and more agitated as I ignored her, and the satisfaction it gave me was enough of a reward.

  I smiled and held out my hand again. “Actually, make it a double chocolate chip day, Flo, and some whipped cream would be lovely. I’m starving.” I raised my eyebrows at Heather.

  Flo replenished my hand with chocolate chips. “Double chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream on its way.” We both laughed. There had been many laughs and happy moments between Flo and me.

  “You should lay off the pancakes, Kate. I’ve warned you before: skinny jeans don’t like carbohydrates.” Heather took a bite of a strawberry and threw me another bitchy smile.

  “Well, my skinny jeans fit me just fine,” I said while sucking in my stomach. I sat at the table and reached for a strawberry. Heather finished the strawberry and threw its remains on the table. She pursed her lips, and as she reached for another, couldn’t help herself.

  “You should watch your weight, Kate. Society judges people on their physical appearance these days. You’ll never find an eligible bachelor with thighs the size of yours, and with your plain face, you’ll have to compensate with your weight even more.” Her evil eyes scanned my body as my stomach pushed against my jeans. She made me feel like I’d suddenly gained ten pounds, had a face like a wrinkly corpse, and was naked for her appraisal. I’d tried and failed; Heather was going to get what she so desperately wanted and I despised myself for giving into her. However, deciding I was stronger than she thought I was, I refused to allow her to mentally bully me and make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I glanced over at my mother who was reading her n
ewspaper and playing ignorant to our bickering.

  “Heather, modeling is a career for you, not me. I want a career where I actually have to use my brain.” There it was. I had succumbed to pure bitching and immediately regretted it.

  Heather glared at me. “I’ll have you know, Kate, that modeling does require the use of my brain. I’m considering designing my own clothing line; I have an amazing vision for high-end fashion.” Heather took another sip of her smoothie. I had to wrap up this petty argument before she completely drained me.

  “If you say so, Heather. Good luck with the designing. Considering that you can’t draw a stick figure, I’m sure the clothes will be very interesting.”

  Heather leaned into me. “I am visually gifted, Kate. So I won’t need to draw. I’ll have staff for that.”

  I laughed. Heather’s cheeks turned a bright shade of scarlet and her eyes widened with humiliation.

  My mother slammed her hand down on her newspaper. “Girls, please! Can you just try and get along, even if it’s only while I’m in the same room as you both?” Heather screwed up her face and was taking short breaths.