by Ivy Stone
I V Y S T O N E
Divided
Unguarded Series Book Two
By Ivy Stone
Copyright © 2016 Ivy Stone
Published by Ivy Stone, First Edition February 2016
All rights reserved. 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 permission in writing. Except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For permission requests, email the author at [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
WARNING
For Mature Audience 18+
Contains Adult Situations & Language
Editing: Swish Design & Editing
Proofreading: Fiona Dreaming Proofreading & Formatting
Formatting: Swish Design & Editing
Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Images: Darren Birks Photography
Cover image Copyright 2016
Divided is book two in the Unguarded Series. Therefore Exposed, book one, should be read before reading Divided. These books are not standalones. The stories do continue throughout each novel so reading them in order is necessary.
We were strangers.
Two people on different paths that were never meant to cross.
He saved me.
I ruined her.
We had no control.
We were powerless against fate.
It wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t right, but it was real.
Ours was a toxic love. So lethal it was destined to ruin us both, and it did. In the end, everything went wrong for all the right reasons.
Our lives divided. But our love would be infinite.
A forbidden crush.
A destructive romance.
A fierce love.
To my own Phoenix Tate.
A boy who brought out a strength in me I didn’t know I had.
Nash, Mumma loves you.
Author Note
Blurb
Dedication
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Connect With Me Online
About the Author – Ivy Stone
Age Fifteen
Rough hands pull at the material on my body, stripping me bare of my clothes—my dignity. My eyes dart around the strip club frantically for an out, but it’s no use. Giuseppe, his associates, and Lucio, they’re beside me, behind me, in front of me. There is no escape. Fright spikes my heart rate. It picks up speed, racing with my mind to come up with answers, a reason, something to help me understand why I’m here in one of the clubs Giuseppe Marino owns. A throb jolts through my shoulder and I’m shoved forward onto the empty stage at Sweet Tarts. Tears sear my cheeks like flames. The burn, a reality of what might be to come. I want to hide, hide my tears, hide from the humiliation of standing naked before these men. Giuseppe trains his gun on me and it forces me to move up the stage even though my mind tells me to run. Run far.
“Dance my girl. It will make me a very happy man. And after what your sister did today, leaving me like that… I need a happy ending. And you want to please me don’t you?” Giuseppe’s voice rips through the air, scaring me, confusing me. Why is he doing this? He’s been like a father to me for the past three years since he took my sister, her best friend, and me in. A bruising hand shoves me again, this time harder. My body racks with fear as I hesitantly turn around. Five middle-aged men and a boy, who I believed cared about me, focus their hungry eyes lower on my body. A shudder of disgust racks through me. I glance at Lucio and his gaze catches mine. His eyes gloss over as I plead with him silently to help me. His face turns ashen. Sorrow builds behind his features and my stomach churns. He knows what’s going to come and we both know he can’t do a thing about it. Or at least, he won’t. Despite how much the Marino Prince may care about me, he values his life and his position within the family business, more than our friendship.
“Dance, girl! I won’t say it again.”
I jump at the bellowing voice of a man I thought loved me like a daughter. My head spins and my body shakes as I begin to move with the hope of getting out of here in one piece. Sweat drips from my forehead falling down my face along with my tears until everything’s a blur behind the water in my eyes, and I can no longer separate the two. I shift on my feet from side to side. Hanging my head low, my chest caves in and I curl into myself as if hiding my face will somehow protect me from their roaming eyes and verbal abuse. Deep voices laugh at me, they echo through the club and chip away at my self-esteem. Maybe if I can just block it all out, I can get through this. The insults tear at my confidence, they’re loud and angry—degrading.
A lump of dread forms in my belly, I’m not pleasing them. And why would I be? My dancing is terrible. I’m too nervous, too shaky. I’m fucking terrified. What did they expect? I close my eyes and my chest rises as I take a deep breath. I listen for the beat of the music playing lowly in the background and swing my hips while I swallow the bile rising in my throat. Fear encourages my heart to smack painfully against my ribs. But then all breath leaves me when Giuseppe’s gun kisses my temple.
I freeze. My eyes fly open and I wince as the gun digs into my face. I glue my lips together to hold in the sobs but it’s no use. One wrenches from me. He growls and pulls back the trigger. My body tremors and I shake my head.
“No. Please,” I whimper. “Don’t do this.”
I thrash around my instincts now in survival mode. But bruising hands grab me and they’re too strong. I’m forced to stay still. So I scream until my voice is hoarse and then I cry. I cry until I have nothing left. My mouth, dry and sore. I open it, ready to beg for my life when the gun is pulled away and soulless eyes, black and evil, level with mine. I blink through the blur until the familiar hues become clear. A chill coats my skin as his icy stare drills more panic into me.
Where is the kind man who homed me years ago, who’s read to me, fed me, clothed me?
The hardness of Giuseppe’s gun digs into my face. “You can’t dance can you, Alison? Pull yourself together, girl. I’m almost sorry to do this because you look so pathetic and weak already.”
He bends closer to me and I turn my head to the side.
“Lindsey made a grave mistake leaving me today. And now you’re
going to pay the price.”
My bottom lip trembles. My legs threaten to give way. Oh God, I don’t want to die. Is he really doing this just because Lindsey and Oliver left the house, the family, the business? All because they don’t want to work for him anymore doing whatever the hell it is they do? I just want my sister. She’d know what to do. She’d save me from the monster in front of me. But she’s not here. My heart aches with regret. What have I done? I’d fought with her. Argued with her that here is where I belonged. The Marino house was my home. Adriana, Valentina, Lucio, and Giuseppe were as much my family as she and Oliver were. I wanted to stay after she tried everything she could to have me leave. But I still refused to leave the safety of the place I call home.
How in just hours, had life changed so drastically?
Voices shout at me, mocking me with every insult imaginable.
Giuseppe lowers his gun, pointing it at the dirty wooden floor. “Get on your knees.”
I fumble over my feet and fall anyway. I ignore the laughs that follow, but my heart doesn’t. It dies a little inside. I drop my head, refusing to look at any of them. Trying to hide, refusing to give them the satisfaction of showing them fear. The unmistakable sound of zippers undoing wracks another gut wrenching sob from my throat.
I lift my head, shaking it from side to side as the tears flow a waterfall down my face. Each man below me is reaching for their crotch.
“No. Please. Just let me go. Please.” I beg.
Giuseppe retakes his seat around the table in front of the stage. His white teeth gleam with delight and any hope left in me deflates with my shoulders as they curve over my chest. My eyes burn at the sight before me. Men’s features laced with pleasure as they stroke their lengths, without a care another man is beside them doing the same disgusting thing. But not Giuseppe, or Lucio. Giuseppe’s stare is slime on my skin. A gleam of satisfaction watching me squirm, hurt and self-destruct. I rub my arms, I scratch at my legs, but all I do is draw blood to the surface.
Giuseppe’s sharp voice cuts through the air and I lift my head.
“Don’t look away, boy. Or are you not man enough to handle this?”
Lucio slides down in his seat at the end of the table.
He shakes his head. “No, Papa. I’m fine.”
I plead with him to stand up for me, to pray for me. To do something, but he doesn’t give me his eyes. He can’t. Because deep down the boy who I’ve come to care for, the boy who’s now all grown up, does still exist. But his mind is clouded by his heart’s biggest desire—for his father to love him.
Another tear rolls down my cheek. But it isn’t out of fear, or the dreaded nightmare of what I’m about to endure. This tear, the only one I’ll shed for him, is full of regret and betrayal. Regret that I’d given Lucio my affection. My trust. And betrayal—he’d ruined every moment we’d ever shared. My heart’s being stomped on by the people I trust most, the ones I hold dearest, and with every second the cuts become deeper.
One of the men stands and walks over in front of me. His greasy black hair shining under the lights coming from the stage. With his hard length poking out of his slacks he pulls a small clear bag from his back pocket. I grimace, realizing what it is and a whimper escapes my lips. He empties the white powder carefully onto the top of his length, making sure the powder stops before reaching the tip. I lift my eyes, chancing a look at the offending man in front of me. The muscles in his middle-aged face tense and his nostrils flare. I recoil. How could he be turned on by a fifteen-year-old girl weeping on her knees before him? They’re sick. All of them.
“Lick it up, bitch. All of it. And if you bite me, I’ll pull my dick out of your sweet little mouth and shove it in your ass. I’ll fuck you raw until you’re bleeding and screaming for me to kill you.”
I gasp and cringe with fear. I shuffle back without thinking, the natural instinct to back away from danger does nothing but agitate him further. His rough hand squeezes my shoulder and yanks me forward. My body turns to stone under his touch.
“Do it now.” His tone is demanding—absolute. I have two choices. I can do as he says and hope to make it out alive. Or, I can bite him and he’ll kill me. Either way, I’ll be dead inside by the end of this night.
I close my eyes and breathe in deep. Bracing myself for what I’m about to do. If it saves me from dying and I get to see another day, I’ll do it. I’ll do it because the moment I’m free I’ll run and never look back.
On shaky knees, I lift myself up. The cocaine taunts me from just centimeters away. Gradually leaning forward, my bones shake. I squeeze my eyes as tight as I can. I can’t see this. I can’t think about it. My tongue darts out and connects with the powder. It’s rough on my tongue and I gag as my body revolts the drug. I quickly lick the last of it up and hurl myself away from prying eyes. I gasp. I choke. I vomit. But I don’t get away fast enough.
They’re enclosing on me. They’re all I can smell. All I can feel. The only thing I can see. All I can breathe. But none of it matters by the time they’re done with me.
Feeling becomes a nightmare.
Seeing brings only horror.
And breathing? Breathing doesn’t let me forget. Breathing forces me to live in hell.
Eleven Months Later
My feet pound the pavement of the familiar path. Adrenaline boosts to a high causing my heart to thunder in my chest with every step. Hiding in the shadow of my hoodie, covering my face as well as my head, I keep my head down as I jog onto the Brooklyn Bridge along the same route I run every night. Out here it’s quiet, even when it’s loud. Somehow being alone is the calm I never feel anywhere else.
But tonight the quiet is outweighed by sobs. Soft cries pull me from the calm and that’s when I notice her. Tears fall through gaps in her fingers covering her face. Ratty blonde hair sits on her shoulders as they shake with each sob. Her small frame leans against the structure of the bridge and I glance around for someone, anyone. But we’re all alone. Nothing but the bright lights and city sounds of New York at night fill the small distance between us. I shift on my feet and rub the back of my neck. I could continue my run—go back home, pretend I never saw her, do what most other people would do when they see a stranger upset. Because no one helps anyone anymore, no one cares about your problems when we’re already burdened with a fucking ton of our own. But she’s upset leaning on the side of the bridge, and that knowledge alone is enough to curdle my stomach with unease. I can’t fight my feet from moving toward her. I can’t fight the training ingrained in me to help. It’s my job, my life, the one thing that makes me proud and gives me a purpose in life.
The girl steps out of her shoes and braces her hands on the bridge.
“Ah, fuck.” I curse under my breath. There’s no time to think further, only time to act.
A few quick strides and I’m beside her. Still hiding my face from view, hands tucked into the front pocket of my hoodie, but ready to move.
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
My deep voice catches her attention and her hair swishes in the air as she turns her head in my direction. Stormy eyes, tear into me with shock. I watch her search my face, for what I don’t know. It’s dark, and I’m too far away for her to get a good look at me. But I see her. Her porcelain skin is illuminated by a streetlight. Her gaunt cheeks are stained with the pain behind her tears. She’s young, thin—way too thin. A pang resonates in my chest at the agony in the face staring back at me. Shit, this isn’t good.
She lifts a shaky hand and wipes her face. Her soft voice sounds through the sobs as her chest heaves from too much crying. “And why is that?”
My brows bunch in and I bite the inside of my cheek before saying the wrong thing. I open my mouth to speak—to give the same ridiculous spiel my training tells me to use in situations like these, but the truth begs to come out and I’ve never been one to follow the rules.
I take another step closer and the pressure on my chest alleviates the slightest knowing I’m clo
ser to her, within reach.
“Might hurt yourself.”
Okay. Maybe not the smartest fucking thing to say.
She scoffs and flicks her gaze back over the water as she mutters, “That’s the point, jackass.”
My lips curve into a small smirk at her attitude, and relief unwinds the tension in my muscles because she just gave me everything I needed to know.
She’s still got an attitude, she’s still got fight in her. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t stop to hesitate. She’d jump off this bridge with a sense of relief. Maybe it wouldn’t happen quite like that. I’ve never claimed to be a profiler. But watching her right now, this can’t be what she really wants.
Moving to the railing, I come up beside her. “So you think jumping off a bridge is gonna solve all your problems for you?”
“Yes.” Fear creeps into her shaky voice.
I grimace at her response and anger ignites within the questions in my head. Who had such a power over this girl to convince her this is where she should be? That she should end her life because she isn’t worthy of this world, isn’t good enough to be here?
My lips flatten into a hard line as I hold in the hatred I already have for someone I don’t know. Fucking assholes of the world. “Well, you’re wrong. They’ll still be there, long after you jump.”
I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole, but when she cringes and her shoulders curl over her chest, I realize my mistake. I open my mouth to apologize but her words halt me.
“It doesn’t matter. The moment I hit that water and all the life is taken from this body of mine, I’ll be a shell of nothingness, which won’t be that much different to what it is now,” she whispers, her words so quiet I almost don’t hear them all.
I move closer to her but still don’t touch her. My hands itch to reach out and hug her, hold her. But I’m a stranger and the last thing this girl needs.
