by Amarie Avant
She grabbed it and descended the stairs, heading for her grandfather’s toolbox in the garage. Didn’t have to cherish this box like a silly little fourteen-year-old who imagined her mother would one day come and save her. Now she knew her mother.
Grabbing a flathead screwdriver, she hurried back up to her room, unsure if Annette would be coming home from the hospital soon. Plopping on her bed, she wedged it slowly, working the tool in between the brass clasp until it popped open.
With itchy palms, Raven opened it. Inside was a diary. The diary was stuffed with pictures of Charlene kissing Jonathan. Her nostrils flared. Guess I should’ve opened it years ago… With the tips of her thumbs, she outlined the pictures of them at fairs, at the park, at the meadow where her half-brother Liam had neglected to meet her. They were smiling and posing, in love. She read through the diary of the last days of Charlene’s life in Bellwood.
Dear Diary,
Today I found out Jonathan has been cheating on me with that girl! Elise came by to show me a huge engagement ring! I hope I’m not pregnant! I don’t want Jonathan, and I do NOT want his child!
I told Alvin I’m leaving. He thinks I should stay to confront Jonathan. He thinks that if I am pregnant, I should keep it. But I told him if I were pregnant, someone in Los Angeles will help me get rid of it.
Raven’s heart sank. That damn Damien Wright was wrong! Charlene didn’t want her. Flipping back a few pages to a letter dating a week before, Charlene talked about possibly being pregnant, hoping it was a girl. Had her life planned out, would move with Jonathan. She’d be an actress. He’d play football at USC. They’d take care of their baby!
Tormenting herself, she returned to the end of the diary and reread how her mother had changed. The “hopefully it’s a girl” turned into an it she wanted to kill.
Charlene no longer wanted a child… Raven thought about thanking Roy Timmons. If Charlene hadn’t been in a coma for the better part of her pregnancy, Raven wouldn’t exist. And she wished she hadn’t survived.
From all of her flipping back and forth, Raven noticed red streaks on the diary pages. Looking down at her palms, she found they were cut, raw. She had held her fist closed so tightly, her long nails had dug into flesh. As she glared at shreds of skin, she still didn’t feel pain. A fresh sense of hatred washed over her. Her mom never loved her, not even from the start.
She was nobody, had nobody. No Liam. Raven pulled, tugged, and ripped the pages into pieces. Tearing every last piece until it was an empty vessel.
God help me, please! Chest heaving, she hurled the empty diary across the room. It hit the bedroom door with a clunk. All around her were torn paper and photos. Jonathan’s love letters were bits and pieces. The letters of love had transformed into a distorted, ugly, dirty, black bird: Raven.
Storming to the dresser, Raven used her forearms to swipe across the wood top until everything came crashing down; perfume, hair products, mail, and the mermaid trinket that Damien Wright had given her.
“Liam!” Raven sunk to the floor. In the past, if she closed her eyes, she saw hazel eyes, but today they were gone. She tried again. Nothing, only darkness.
Cradling her flat stomach, Raven felt like ripping out the seed that was growing, an innocent baby.
She stopped trying to claw at her stomach.
It was not the baby’s fault, and it was not Raven’s fault.
No, it wasn’t Charlene’s fault or Jonathan’s fault or Liam’s. Everything was Elise’s fault.
CHAPTER 29
Six months had passed. It had to be too late. That didn’t stop Liam from telling the French girl he was on a date with that he had to go. The date was gorgeous, doe brown eyes, short auburn hair that brought the focal point back to those damn eyes, and pouty lips. Liam and his date were enrolled at the same university and were on their way to an early dinner after class. He’d felt like walking. She wanted to take a ride in his new Porsche Spider that Grand-père bought for his graduation. He insisted on strolling to a five-star restaurant, and because everyone knew him as the legacy, she consented.
Before rushing off, Liam had compared his date to Raven a thousand times over, and they’d only walked across the street from school. Raven would’ve loved walking around the pond, pointing out the scenery. Then again, as stubborn as Raven was, there’d have been no consent from her.
The Eiffel Tower was the scenic backdrop, symbolizing the only place he’d anticipated taking Raven. He reminisced about how Raven talked of Paris before taking him into her mouth.
The girl jabbered in French, trying to keep his attention when she didn’t have it in the first place. He was just lonely. Any other day, he was able to psych himself into being interested, but they were cutting through a park when he saw…a teenage girl with a nose ring, dirty blonde hair, and a very round belly. How many months? Liam stopped to watch her pass. Raven would’ve been about seven…
The pregnant woman strolled alongside with a man who had to be the father. The guy had one tattooed arm around her shoulder. Liam yearned to offer the man a million dollars to know what he whispered in her ear to have her smile just so. The pregnant woman’s contagious laughter made Liam stop dead in his tracks. He almost heard the carefree sound of Raven’s laughter. This was as close as he’d been to love in a while.
“Liam.” His date pulled on his leather jacket. Her eyes were larger, pupils wide with interest. Had she done something wrong? Why wasn’t he entertained?
For a moment, Liam had no answer. He continued to stare at the couple, regardless of stolen liberties and being perceived as a stalker. Dead in his tracks, Liam stood there. He blatantly watched them. Other people on an evening walk or on their way to dinner strolled around them as he watched the young family-to-be move toward a waning orange ball of fire. The evening sun drowned them from view.
“Je suis désolé. Je dois aller–I’m sorry. I have to go.” Liam looked into his date’s gray eyes then hurried back to the Delacroix Hotel. His shoes thumped against the stone pavement as he went. A white-haired waiter pulled the chair out for a woman at an umbrella-shaded table, right outside of a bistro. He zipped out of the way in the nick of time, shooting a quick apology in French. Why had he given up on them so easily? Every second he exerted himself, was a moment he breathed again. He took in a lungful of air for the first time in a long time, pace slowing as a red Alfa Romeo zoomed into the valet of the first ever D-Hotel.
He mumbled a greeting to the valet and the attendants at the Paris chain of his family’s string of hotels. Everybody wanted to say hello to the heir of the Delacroix fortune. A quick smile appeared, fading in seconds after tourists took his picture. He was a European celebrity. On the top floor, he opened the door to the penthouse suite, wishing the renovations on his loft would be complete soon.
Veering straight to the glass bar, Liam poured a cognac and downed it. I shouldn’t have gotten on the plane. A few drinks later, that feeling where you’re not supposed to care anymore started to creep in. It wasn’t enough. He poured one after another until he was drunk enough, drunk enough to make that call. Pulling out his new cell phone, Liam leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the street below him as fancy cars pulled into valet.
Stabbing the buttons with shaky fingers, Liam hesitated. He realized the momentary reprieve from suffocation had ended. A big gulp of air shot through his lungs. Liam pressed the CALL button and placed the phone to his ear. Blood pumped in his ears as he waited for Raven to answer.
It was early morning in North Carolina, but he needed his love to answer. His heart stopped for a fraction of a second when the call went to voicemail.
Taking a deep breath, he said, “Raven?” He rubbed the burn in his eyes, and spoke to the voicemail. Different emotions took over. Liam turned around and slipped down on the floor, leaning against the window. “ReRe, I need to talk to you about the letter. Call me.”
It had to be too late. She must have already done it, but he still needed her. She w
as family. The only family he had besides Grand-père, as far as he was concerned. He left his phone number, told her to call anytime.
For a moment he thought about declaring that he was on the way to the airport, that he’d be on the very next plane home. Yet, courage failed him. He needed the reassurance of her voice first. Raven had to respond to him.
Who the hell was he kidding? She has to hate me… Liam pressed the END button. He’d respect her wishes. For now, Liam waited for her to call.
ENVY: Deceptive Desires #2 will release September 22nd or sooner ;)
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Without any further ado, check out the sneak peek of the (even more suspenseful) second book. ENVY: Deceptive Desires II
ENVY: Deceptive Desires II
Chapter 1
Dallas, TX
Five years later
“Raven, you just went deathly quiet.” Calum’s mellow voice crashed into her thoughts. For the first time today, there was a small level of uncertainty in the overly confident, upcoming rocker’s tone. As if to say what just went wrong? All along, he thought he’d had her open. If this were a different world, yes, she’d be wide open, feigning, ready.
“Just focused is all,” Raven responded from the safety of the darkness which surrounded her. They were at the top level of a brownstone building which had natural lighting from a 180 degree view. She basked in obscurity as her muse was bathed in illumination. ‘Keep it professional’ was her motto, yet a warm flush crept up her body.
Licking her lips, her eyes roamed over white boxer-briefs, a thin barrier over a bulging package. His body was a canvas, a paraphilia exhibit. From neck to toe, tattoos covered the muscles of his lean body. Fortunately, her tripod acted an imaginary line between the two. And the use of her camera allowed her voyeuristic diversion to run rampant.
He had a shock of blond hair. His angular jaw was the reason Raven had been so excited about switching up her approach and taking a facial shot. Calum was perfect, yet there was something about him that she hadn’t noticed before when they’d crossed paths at her day job at the coffee shop.
Calum’s face was a dead ringer for Liam.
The camera looped around the back of her neck came to rest at her chest. He didn’t seem to be buying the “I’m in the zone” spiel.
Raven’s head tilted just slightly. “I’m not one of your groupies, so no need to read me.”
Calum’s hazel eyes, which reminded her of that good homey feeling and a man she hated more than life itself, shaded slightly. He still wasn’t buying it.
“Just off my game for a moment, Calum.” Damn, the cocky bastard pulled the truth from me anyway.
“That’s why we need to keep the pathways for communication open.” He spoke softly, seductively, as if privy to her every thought. His undertones seemed to be offering to mend her broken heart. Well the damn thing wasn’t broken, it was numb. And after almost five years, no badass punk rocker was going to change that. Even if looking at him gave her panties the liquid stamp of approval.
As she captured a rosary and skull tattoo across his eight pack, Calum continued to cultivate a connection. “Communication is usually a must for me, Raven. The only way the two of us can get exactly what we want is to be open with each other.”
“M-hummm,” Raven murmured, not really listening to his mind games, which worked wonders when he came into the coffee shop for poetry night and his morning cup of coffee.
And then through her lens, their safe proximities diminished. He started off the stage.
Raven jutted her chin to where he should be. “Get your ass back up there.” She took a quick snapshot of his cocky grin.
“So we’re good?”
“Fucking golden, Calum.”
“Bueno. See, Raven, I knew one day after…how many years have I known you?”
“Known? None. Acquainted? Three.”
“Sheesh, those blue eyes of yours have always been so cold. I feel like I know you.” He licked his lips, and her camera’s rapid succession of shots had to have gotten something great. “But whatever, acquaintances, friends… we have ample time to work on that. How about drinks when we finish up here?” Those lips that many women imagined on their skin curved slightly. For Calum, smiling was a must. It was part of his charisma when chicks expected to be manhandled, fucked to perfection, and tossed away with their own giddy grins.
Instantly, her gold-toned cheeks burned a deep raspberry. It was hard replying while eye level with his cock, which was pretty darn happy at the moment. At least from what she could see—all ll the light was on him, and he wasn’t close.
She twirled her index finger for Calum to turn around, to which his head cocked to the side, nudging her to answer the question. Finally, she replied, “I have a boyfriend.”
“Who?” He went into an angular motion, displaying length and superb back muscles.
A giggle of happiness almost escaped as she discovered the gem to her portfolio. The tiger on his back would appear to pop out of that picture when developed. Pure genius.
“Raven, I asked who he is.” Calum faced forward for a split second.
God, this man is fine as fuck…“Cooperate, please,” Raven scolded. “His name is William. He’s a biochemical major at Dallas University.”
“Sounds boring.” Calum faced her again, thick eyebrow lifted. The way Calum bit his bottom lip made her body ache for him. But he wasn’t the first to stroke her desire without getting any.
“Not boring…intelligent.” Her heartbeat kept pace with the muscles of his legs which tensed and relaxed. He stepped off the platform, sauntering over. His measured strides and the look in his eyes reminded her of the tiger on his back that she had been so intrigued to capture.
“Calum, get your crazy white ass back on the stage,” she said, surprising herself with her ability to form a coherent sentence.
Calum was too handsome, too suave, too self-confident just like… Liam—which instantly turned her off. She slapped his hand away as he undid the top button of her flannel shirt. His searing stare dared her to re-button it and hide the exposed bit of her lace bra.
“I’m celibate.” She smiled.
“I’m gonna go out on the limb here and guess that it just means it’s been awhile since you had good dick.”
“Calum—” The curses slammed back down her throat as his hands gripped her waist and pulled her up onto the counter spanning the back of the room. The sink beside them was splattered in various colors due to some photographer’s painting fetish. The entire floor of the brownstone was owned by her Professor Tinker. Each photography student was allotted a certain amount of time per semester if they wanted to utilize the studio for a photoshoot. Though Raven had signed up for this time block, any of her fellow classmates had the key code and could come rushing in.
Yet logic was gone. His movements were precise, quick, and luckily didn’t involve him slamming her head back into redbrick behind her as he pawed her legs open.
Their lips flew to each other. It had been over five years since her body craved the touch of a man.
“You fucking want me so bad,” Calum said, searing hazel eyes bringing her thoughts back to Liam.
“Ye…yes,” the word broke forth from her bruised lips. Calum’s fingers roamed beneath the tight spandex mini she wore. The skirt had been an accident, the only change of clothes she had from going to the gym this morning, and a gift from a friend who argued about her always wearing jeans.
He held one hand in his boxer briefs, and
the way he stroked at his cock made her think very bad, bad things.
“I’ve been waiting long enough to fuck you, Raven.” He had this Mark Walberg tone which soothed, even though his actions were hard. And damn it, she wanted him to fuck the cobwebs from her pussy.
Honey liquid lust controlled her every thought as his finger slipped past the thin, silk barrier. Her hips bucked against his finger as it gushed into her wet, warm core.
“Li—” She almost called him a name she hadn’t uttered in years. Calum didn’t notice. Not at all, because the residual lust were clung to him.
“Raven!” barked an all-too-familiar voice.
Her eyes closed momentarily as Calum stepped away from her. He held his hands up in mock defeat, but his eyes said he was game for later.
She climbed off the counter and pulled her skirt down to a respectable length as the man who shouted her name in such a hard, disappointed voice stared , hands on his hips.
“Is this William?” Calum didn’t sound convinced. The man before him wasn’t the quintessence of boring, not in the least.
Stephen had the warmest caramel skin ever. He was wearing his navy blue work uniform, but there was no doubt that his body was drenched in muscles. Soulful brown eyes and typically, a smile which was second only to his southern drawl.
“No, I’m not that joke!” Stephen said of Raven’s boyfriend, William.
“Stay here,” Raven told Calum at the same time as Stephen pushed through the door.
Yet those hazel eyes looked on inquisitively. There was way too much emotion in Stephen’s eyes to stymie Calum’s curiosity. Stephen was the man she loved. But he was also the longest friend she had since the death of her Grandpa Otis to cancer. Needless to say, best friend was exactly where he’d stay. And William? He’d play “boyfriend”—or more fitting—Safe Man.
