Drawn to You — Volume Two

by Vanessa Booke

  DRAWN TO YOU

  VOLUME 2

  VANESSA BOOKE

  Copyright © 2014 Vanessa Booke

  Drawn to You: Volume 2

  By Vanessa Booke

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by Studio 22 Cover Designs

  Editing and Formatting Provided by

  Rogena Mitchell-Jones Manuscript Service

  www.RogenaMitchell.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imdagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, brands, media, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ALSO BY VANESSA BOOKE

  ABOUT VANESSA BOOKE

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my husband.

  Thank you for putting up with my craziness and for encouraging me to follow my dreams.

  I love you so very much.

  “The great art of life is sensation,

  to feel that we exist, even in pain.”

  - Lord Byron

  PROLOGUE

  TRISTAN

  I’VE RUINED EVERYTHING.

  The thought filters through me as I climb the staircase with Emily in my arms. She shivers as we pass through the desolate hallway that leads to the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. Emily’s bright eyes watch me as I sit her down on the edge of the giant sunken bathtub. The bottom of Emily’s nightie is stained red with blotches of blood. The sight of it gives me both pleasure and causes me pain. I turn to the bathtub and flip the faucet on letting the water rise to a tolerable temperature. Emily sits silently staring at me with a confused look on her face. I reach over and begin to pull up her nightie, but the bright flame that stains her cheeks stops me.

  “A bath will help with any discomfort you might feel,” I say, pushing back a stray strand of blonde from her face. “I’m going to go look for some aspirin while you get in. Just be careful. It might be too hot at first.”

  “Okay,” she mumbles.

  “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  I disappear down the stairs and into the kitchen, grateful that Nicholas hasn’t woken up. I tear through the pantry in search of aspirin. I slip the bottle into my pocket and head back to my room to dress. It isn’t until I’m halfway to my bed that I realize the sub I was playing with earlier is still in my room.

  The young blonde’s breathless voice calls out to me from the edge of my mattress as her hands are crossed and bound above her head. She tugs on the restraints to loosen them but they only squeeze tighter. A worried look crosses her face as I enter the room still reeling from what took place on the stairs. She tilts her head to get a better look at me, but I avoid her questioning gaze. I can’t stand to look at her. Even worse is the fact I can’t erase the image of Emily’s startled face when she caught me with the sub.

  “Is everything all right?” she asks hesitantly.

  Fuck no. The smell of Emily on my skin guts me as I spot the wet marks on the sheets from my time with the sub. I untie her restraints and hand her the mini skirt she came in. She slowly slides off the bed pulling the sheet off my bed with her. I’m going to burn these sheets. I don’t want any memory of tonight including the blonde in my bed. She kneels at my feet never taking her eyes off her knees. In the short amount of time together, she’s learned me well.

  “Master, did I do something to anger you?”

  “You need to go.”

  “But we were just getting started…”

  “I don’t give a shit. You need to leave.”

  I watch her with irritation as she looks at me with a look of betrayal. I probably won’t hear the end of it from everyone at the Pleasure Chest. They don’t take kindly to those who screw over other members. I watch the blonde slip on the rest of her clothes and then scurry out of my room. I don’t bother asking to call a cab for her. I know I’m a dick, but I don’t care. I’m grateful when her pouty lips are out of my sight as she finally makes her way out the front door of the StoneHaven mansion.

  A gutting rush of shame overwhelms me as I stare at my reflection in my bedroom mirror. There’s no clean way out of the mess I’ve made tonight. The lines between Emily and I have been blurred, and I’m not sure we can ever go back. What the fuck was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking. I let my emotions take control of me. I let go of the control I’ve desperately craved my entire life. How can I ever look Nicholas in the face again? Fuck, I’m going to lose them all over again.

  Anger pulsates through me as my fist makes contact with one of my shelves, sending books flying everywhere. Despite the pain that radiates through my hand, it doesn’t ease my guilt. The image of Emily’s face as I push inside her sends my heart slamming into my chest. I took something from her I can never give back. There’s no walking away from this in one piece. Surely, I’m eternally damned for this.

  A light trail of steam flows out from inside the spacious bathroom. To my surprise, Emily is still in the bathtub where I left her. Her aquamarine eyes flutter open as I carefully close the bathroom door behind me. She watches me with a look of curiosity as I pace back and forth a few feet away. Try as I may, I can’t look away from the way her naked curves peak up from beneath the water. She doesn’t move or say anything as I lean down on the tile beside the sunken tub. Our eyes connect, and for a brief moment, I forget my guilt and the consuming need to fix what I’ve broken.

  Leaning forward, I trace the curve of her breast with my fingertips. I feel myself harden at the sight of her nipples perking up. I reach over her for a nearby sponge and watch with a small trace of amusement as her eyes widen. She watches me as I slowly reach down into the water and run the sponge from her ankle to the center between her legs. Emily flinches, but she doesn’t stop me as I put pressure against her. Her body arches against my palm, and it takes all of my restraint not to touch her any further. After running the sponge over the rest of her legs, I help her towel off.

  She doesn’t ask me to, but I turn to look at the wall as she dresses in my black Nine Inch Nails T-shirt. The black tee was a gift from my co-worker Vivian, but I haven’t worn it once since she gave it to me. I turn at the feeling of Emily’s hand on the back of my shoulder. The sight of her wearing my shi
rt sends a strange sensation through my chest. She’s wearing my shirt. Somehow, it looks better on her.

  If life were simpler, she would be mine.

  And I would be hers.

  * * * * *

  EMILY

  I WAKE SEVERAL hours later to the sound of my alarm clock going off. It doesn’t take me long to realize I’m back in my bedroom, alone. My memory is foggy, and despite the familiar surroundings, my room looks different. I reach down to lift my nightie over my head, but I quickly stop as I notice the fabric fits strangely big on me. It takes me several minutes to realize I’m wearing one of Tristan’s shirts. Tristan. I shift in my bed, and a tender ache throbs from between my legs. The sensation increases as I sit up and lift my legs over the edge of the bed. I reach down, fingering the hem of the oversize shirt, and slowly pull it up. I blush at the realization that I’m not wearing any underwear. Tristan must’ve taken them off. Or perhaps I wasn’t wearing any in the first place.

  The smell of Tristan’s cologne triggers a flood of memories. Memories of Tristan carrying me to the bathroom, when he turned as I undressed, and the gentle pressure of my loofa grazing the inside of my legs. My heart flutters at the memory of Tristan’s gaze as he helped me bathe. I couldn’t help but stare at him as he gently touched me. Neither of us said much, but it didn’t take away from the need I felt for him to take me again. Even now, my body throbs at the thought of it.

  I step off my bed and walk toward the freestanding mirror across the room curious to see if I look any different from last night. My hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and there are light circles under my eyes, but besides that, there isn’t much different. I turn and lift my shirt again. As I stare at myself in the mirror, I spot a small bruise on my inner thigh. I reach down and run my finger over the bruise. Despite its dark color, it doesn’t seem to hurt.

  I’ve always hated how I bruise so easily, but this time, I don’t mind. Butterflies fill my stomach at the thought of seeing Tristan again. How am I ever going to face him again without thinking about last night? Unable to contain my curiosity, I quickly pull on some jean shorts and head downstairs. The house is quiet, but I’m not surprised considering my parents are still out of town. Nicholas is probably still asleep, too.

  “Emily?”

  I turn toward the sound of a familiar voice and spot my older brother, Alexander, standing in the corridor with a cup in his hand. He’s dressed in a fine blue suit with a matching baby blue tie. My cheeks warm as his eyes take in my frazzled appearance. Thank God he didn’t see me earlier.

  “Hi, Alex. I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “You are? I don’t technically live here, but I try to stop by when I can.”

  The surprise in his voice catches me off guard. Alex hasn’t been around Nicholas or me as much as we’d like him to be. As the heir to StoneHaven Publishing, most of his days are spent shadowing my father or reaching out to investors.

  “It’s nice to have you home.” I smile.

  His striking gray eyes wash over me before wandering over toward the front door of Tristan’s bedroom.

  “I thought I would stop by before going to see Nina.”

  Nina, Alex’s college sweetheart and the women he’s been after for years. Except he only just realized he loves her. It’s funny how sometimes you fall for the people who are right in front of you.

  “Where were you headed off to?” he asks.

  “I was just coming downstairs to make myself some cereal,” I answer with a nervous smile.

  He takes a sip from his mug before eyeing the oversized shirt I’m wearing. A rush of panic seizes my chest thinking he might know who the shirt actually belongs to. I watch as he sets his mug down and walks over toward me. A serious look paints his face as he places his hand on my shoulder.

  “Emily, I know having Tristan live with us is exciting, but just remember, we don’t really know him all that well anymore. I would hate for you to get attached to someone who will probably end up leaving in the next month or two.”

  “What do you mean? Why would you say that?”

  A look of pity flashes across Alex’s face.

  “You can’t really think he won’t leave after he gets what he wants?”

  I nearly choke on the thought that Alex knows about what happened between the two of us last night. How could he? Is it written all over my face? My mother used to warn me that if I had sex, somehow, she would know—as if losing your v-card is a status permanently tattooed to your forehead.

  “Dad’s already offered to pay for Tristan to go to college. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sends him to Barcelona.”

  “Europe?” I squeak.

  The small sense of relief fills me at the realization Alexander isn’t talking about last night, and it’s quickly replaced by concern. Tristan might leave? Again?

  “Yes, Dad has some business partners out there who recommended a school. I was surprised he wasn’t interested in sending him to France. Seems like the most logical choice considering we have the villa out there.”

  Alex steps back as he examines the lettering on the front of my T-shirt.

  “By the way, whose shirt is this? You’re a little young to listen to Nine Inch Nails.”

  The sound of the front door opening cuts Alex’s interrogation short. I’m grateful for the small distraction as my mind spins at the new information. A burst of light spills through the front door as my mother and father come strolling in with several bags from what looks like a not so mini shopping spree. My mother’s bright smile forces me to hide the deepening look of despair on mine. Her green eyes stare at me with curiosity as I lean against the staircase banister for support. She walks over toward me for an embrace, placing a small kiss on the top of my head.

  “You look different…”

  “It must be my lack of sleep,” I say with a forced smile.

  “Careful, sweetheart, that’s how you ruin good skin.”

  I roll my eyes at my mother’s strange obsession with trying to look twenty years younger at all times. She’s always trying the latest beauty health trend. I’m surprised she hasn’t discovered the rejuvenating secret of moose pee.

  “I hope you had a wonderful birthday.”

  Wonderful is not even close to how I really feel about my birthday. Last night felt like a dream, but the tenderness I felt this morning is evidence that it was anything but that. The only thing I regret is the feeling I felt after Tristan pulled away from me. I’m not sure what scared him more—the fact that I was a virgin or that it was me.

  ONE

  TRISTAN

  TWO WEEKS LATER…

  THEY SAY, WHEN someone dies, they’re never really gone. So why does it feel like every trace of my mother has been sucked out of this world?

  Heavy rain pounds against the cement beneath my feet as I make way across the cemetery parking lot. The massive grounds in front of me reach farther than I can see, and the number of headstones lining the hills is daunting. I race through the muddy grass trying to escape the storm cloud that hovers above, but each step I take sends water splattering across the fabric of my pants.

  I’m a fucking mess. No, I’m a traitor.

  I’m a traitor who’s wearing a borrowed five-hundred-dollar suit to his mother’s funeral. His mother who died penniless and alone. Who am I? I woke this morning asking myself that same question over and over. A feeling of suffocation overwhelms me as I tear off the jacket of my suit and tie, flinging them to the ground. My lungs burn from running, but the feeling doesn’t compare to the pain that rips through the rest of my chest as I get closer and closer to where her remains rest.

  “There you are,” says a voice calling out to me from behind.

  I turn to find my old co-worker, Vivian, standing in front of me.

  “What happened to you?” she asks. “Did you lose your jacket?”

  “Something like that,” I mutter.

  I haven’t spoken to Vivian in quite a while, and yet she’s the only
person I could think of to be here. The only person who would let me borrow money to cremate my mother. After calling the funeral director at a nearby funeral home, I quickly realized burying my mother would be out of the question. Where the hell was I supposed to get $7,000? While I’m starting to get more customers from the Pleasure Chest, the amount I make is nowhere near the money I needed. There wasn’t a chance in hell I would ask Stefan for the money either. It’s better that he doesn’t know my mother has been alive all of this time. He doesn’t get to have closure. My mother never did.

  “Here,” Vivian says, offering space for me to step beside her under the large umbrella.

  Rain drips down the side of the umbrella-like water gushing from a spout. God, I hope she hasn’t been here long. From her damp appearance, I can only guess she has. I take a step forward and approach the ever-daunting wall of names in front of the columbarium where they’ve placed the ashes of my mother. Vivian pushes back her black waves as she stares at the pattern of memorial plaques in front of her with a thoughtful expression.

  “Thank you for coming,” I say.

  “I’m glad you finally called me. I was wondering if the city swallowed you up.”

  “Believe me, sometimes it feels like it.”

  She lays her hand on my shoulder and squeezes it lightly before returning her gaze to the wall in front of us. Rainwater washes over me, baptizing me in its cold sensation as I close my eyes and imagine what life would be like if the rain could really wash away our sins. If only we could all be forgiven so easily. I open my eyes as I feel a tap on my shoulder. To my surprise, I find Vivian staring at me with tears in her eyes. Since I’ve known Vivian, she’s never shown a shred of weakness. If I didn’t know any better, I would say she’s the reason why people use the expression ‘tough as nails.‘