Trust me, my love

by Emma Quinn

  Copyright 2020 by Emma Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  WARNING: This eBook contains mature themes and language intended for 18+ readers only.

  Trust me, my love

  Emma Quinn

  Content

  Trust me, my love

  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

  Extract from the book: It’s my turn to Love you

  Trust me, my love

  Emma Quinn

  1

  Dylan

  L

  iving in California and being super filthy rich certainly has its perks, I thought as I sat on the balcony overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting fast, and the orange-gold seemed to have lit the waves on fire. I was chilling, just relaxing and waiting for the darkness. That’s when all the best fun would start. Isn’t that when all the best things happen?

  Mishauna, my girlfriend, was inside getting us more drinks. The thumping music and laughter of the already wild party spilled outside, washing over me. I enjoyed the feeling. There were celebrities inside—actors, actresses, and models. As I was funding the festivities, I was thrilled that some of the sexiest lingerie models in the business were in there; and that certain actresses who were exploding onto the Hollywood scene and taking it by storm were also in there, yes, I was thrilled.

  Just to hobnob and rub shoulders with them gave me a thrill, but to know I could actually score with someone that night was an even better feeling. It would not be absurd to say that I felt like a god as I lounged there waiting for Mishauna to get back with my refreshment. She hated it when I mingled with the beauties at my parties, but hey, I didn’t care one bit. She could either get onboard with my lifestyle and live like a queen, or she could go back to her low-level modeling career and live however. I had told her that on more than one occasion. Secretly, I would have hated to lose her. She was gorgeous, sexy, and put up with my bullshit with considerably less drama than my last girlfriend.

  That night, however, I had my partially drunken eye set on a hot little number who had recently debuted in her first feature-length film, which had resulted in immediate offers for leading parts in two other films. The director for one of them was Steven Spielberg and the other was Ron Howard. Her career was set unless she had a fantastically stupid manager or agent that screwed it up for her somehow.

  Nevertheless, I knew I might not see her at another one of my galas for a while. If I didn’t act soon, I might not get a second chance to get my hands on her. She was older than most of the women I went for at these parties, but I thought she looked damn fine to be twenty-seven, only one year younger than myself. And, hey, I was feeling adventurous.

  Twenty minutes passed and Mishauna still had not returned. Breathing deep of the warm salty air, I closed my eyes for a moment, visualizing how stunning Leona, the actress, looked as she swayed to the music with both hands in the air. That silver, body-hugging dress was so sexy on her it should have been illegal. And, it probably was somewhere in the world—but not in California, and for that I was thankful. The neckline plunged dangerously toward her belly button; the hemline barely covered her ass when she stood still.

  I shivered as a delicious chill swept over me, raising gooseflesh on my arms. I could imagine unpinning that long, wavy mane of dark hair. Yes, she would be naked except for that gorgeous hair falling down and covering just enough of her body to tease me.

  Opening my eyes, I turned to the house. All three levels on that side were glass—how else were my guests and I supposed to get the best views of the Pacific Ocean? My father, Philip Rochester, had taken one look at the place and gone off on a rant about how I should be outgrowing my party-boy ways and looking for a less juvenile house. I saw nothing juvenile about it as I stared in at the throngs of celebs having a good time.

  I spotted Leona dancing on the second floor with a group of men and women. She was surrounded by admirers but seemed to be totally alone, in her own world as she swayed and enticed.

  A quick survey of the entrance showed that Mishauna was nowhere in sight. She had probably been sidetracked by some of her catty friends, who undoubtedly had her pulled into some corner gossiping about someone at the party they found offensive for some trumped up reason that would give them an excuse to be the snooty bitches for a while. I think they seriously just wanted to talk shit about people to make themselves feel as if they were better than others. I didn’t like Mishauna’s friends, but she always seemed to invite them to the parties anyway, and we usually ended up in an argument over it.

  Keeping my eye on Leona as I strolled toward the house, I grinned as I caught teasing little glimpses of her perfect ass cheeks. Did she know I was out there, looking up at her? Yeah, I think she probably did. Women like to be noticed, and they like even more to be desired. Nearing thirty, she was working it like she was afraid it would disappear if she stopped.

  Aging was never easy on women, especially when they were in front of cameras and everyone expected them to remain as flawless and ageless as they were when they were twenty. That fact caused a bit of insecurity in some women—and yes, I would exploit that insecurity if I needed to so I could get them into bed. Was I ashamed of that? Absolutely not. It’s just the way I had always been. A player will do whatever he deems necessary to become the hero in his target’s mind.

  And then, for that little while, the time when the woman submitted to my charms, I felt even more like a god.

  Making my way through the thronging crowd, there was no sign of Mishauna. I sidled up close to Leona and began a grinding dance with her back pressed up to my chest. She was all in for it. I leaned close to her ear and introduced myself.

  “I know who you are, Dylan.” She giggled and flipped her hair over one shoulder.

  That was more of an invitation than I needed at that point. The upbeat tempo changed to a smoother, slower jazz number and I was almost sad as she turned to face me. She had given me a goodly dose of lust as she wiggled her body against mine. Turning to me, she laced one arm up and over my shoulder, her fingers playing with my hair.

  “Why don’t you show me somewhere more private so we can take care of that?” She twisted her hip to bump into my erection.

  I groaned, surprised by her action. Chuckling, I nodded. “That’s a good idea.” I twirled her around and led her toward a staircase that led to the third floor.

  As we reached the landing, she put her back against a wall, grabbed my shirt, and pulled me close. We were locked in a heated kiss, our hands furtively exploring each other’s bodies, and she gripped me through my pants. I moaned deeply, loving her outright desire for me.

  Just as I put my hand on her breast, still locked in a tongue-war kiss, I heard the unmistakable sound of Mishauna clearing her throat. Guiltily, I snatched my hand away and pushed Leona against the wall, raking her hand from my crotch.

&nb
sp; I spun to face Mishauna. She stood with her hands on her hips, eyes blazing.

  “What the righteous hell do you think you’re doing, Dylan?” She flipped a hand toward Leona. “And who the hell is she?”

  “Mishauna,” I began, shocked and stuttering. I hated being caught off my guard, and she had done exactly that. “It’s not…” My voice trailed off as I debated whether I really cared what it looked like. Did I really care that my girlfriend had caught me in the throes of ecstasy with another woman? Not particularly, but in a way, yes.

  “Oh, no! Don’t you go trying to make excuses for this. You were practically eating her face. I’m pretty damn sure your tongue was down her throat. And that ain’t even mentioning her playing racecar stick shift with your Johnson.” She nodded to my crotch.

  Leona cringed, realizing what was going on. “I’m going now. Sorry, I didn’t know you were with him.”

  “Honey-pants, you better believe I am. You ain’t the first one he’s done this with. So, you just run on downstairs and find you another stud.” Mishauna flapped her hand dismissively at Leona.

  “Mishauna, stop it!” I turned to Leona to call her back, but she had fled the scene entirely. All I saw was her hair as she turned the corner. I spun back to Mishauna. “Really? You think you can just go all out like that, like you have a deed to me, or some shit?”

  Without warning, she slapped at me. My quick reflexes saved me from the worst of the strike, but she still landed the hit and rocked my head back. I grabbed her wrist as she swung again, this time with a fist instead of an open palm.

  “Let go of me, you cheating prick!” She yanked her hand away from me. The rage and hate in her eyes were a bit scary.

  “All right, I’m sorry. I think we’ve come to the end of the line, though, don’t you?” I moved so my back wasn’t to the stairs.

  “You think?” She screamed at me. “Where were you headed with her? To our bedroom, Dylan?” Tears began to streak down her pretty face.

  My player persona came out then. “No, baby, it wasn’t like that. She didn’t mean a thing to me, I swear it.” Realizing what I was doing, I forced myself to stop. This relationship was over, and I knew it. There was no salvaging the wreckage this time, she had seen too much. Running my hand through my hair, I said, “Mishauna, you don’t really want to be with me, do you? I mean, I’m no good for you. You deserve so much better. I’m really sorry you had to see that, but that’s just who I am.” I added just enough pleading to my tone to sound almost sincere.

  She broke down into great sobs. That was my cue to move in and comfort her while still directing her as gently as possible out of my life. I reached out to put a comforting arm around her shoulders, falling into character so easily it was scary, and she hit me.

  I mean, she really laid one on me. A fist to the left cheek that left little white sparks shooting through my vision.

  She stood straight and swiped at her tears. “You jackass, of course we’re done. I’ve had enough of your playing and making me look like a damn fool. And, for your information, I do deserve better.” She flipped her hair and headed down the stairs, calling over her shoulder, “And I plan on finding better; it shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Then, she was gone, too.

  Furious that she had taken my endgame away from me and turned it so shockingly around on me, I stormed into my room and grabbed my motorcycle key. Even her tears had apparently been faked just to trick me into thinking she was really upset. How dare she, I thought as I stomped downstairs and shouldered rudely between people.

  I started straddled my motorcycle, started it, and tore out of the garage, weaving between the cars parked on my land until I reached the paved road, and then I really turned it loose and let it run. There was no better way to relieve the anger and stress than a good, fast, and slightly dangerous ride through the city.

  So early in the morning, the streets were mostly empty. There were a few cabbies going about their business, and fewer pedestrians, but for the most part, people were still in their homes. Some would be sleeping, I knew—at four in the morning, most people are. And, some would be up getting ready to start their workdays.

  Me? I hadn’t even been to bed yet, and I wouldn’t be ready to sleep for another few hours. My habit was to stay up partying as much as possible until a little after sunrise, and then I would crash into bed, or on a sofa, and sleep well into the afternoon. I would wake up in time to nurse my hangover, if I had one, and then make plans for that evening and night.

  Like I said, the best things in life always seem to happen in the dark. My stiff-collar father disagrees. His motto is the exact opposite of mine. He says some old school shit like ‘make hay while the sun shines’, and ‘the early bird gets the worm’. I hate those stupid sayings and can’t believe he made his millions living by them.

  Besides, what’s the point in creating an empire if you never get to enjoy the fruits of your labor? Every now and then, he should kick back, put his feet up, and enjoy the life he created. But no, I really think he was born before fun was invented.

  I zipped between the few cars on the roadways, switching lanes at will, not bothering with the stupid speed limit signs or traffic lights. It was exhilarating, and before too long, all the angst of my night, and my life, began to fade into the distance. Once again, I was outrunning those negative feelings. Once again, I was truly free.

  2

  Emily

  “ W

  ho goes to the library at five in the morning, Emily? Really?” I stared at my reflection in the mirror by the door. I was tired, but at least I was up and ready for the day, put together, groomed neatly, and nearly fried from the last week at school. My reflection showed it, too. No matter how pretty my hair was or how much makeup I applied, that disconnected, drained expression stubbornly remained in my eyes.

  Hoisting my backpack to the arm of the sofa, I double-checked that I had everything I needed. Books, project papers, pens, laptop, and an energy drink that I knew I should not be drinking were all neatly packed and in order. I zipped it and shouldered the straps, liking the weight of the bag against my back.

  I took the stairs even though I was on the fifth floor and there was an elevator in perfect condition just down the hall. Staying in shape was important to me, and the stairs were one way I kept up with my exercise. Studying to be a surgeon was hard work to say the least, and it was easy to trade an hour in the gym for an extra hour of sleep.

  I had found that it was also easy to let my usual healthy eating habits slip to the wayside. It was a constant battle to find a happy medium with school, studies, work, and a semi-healthy lifestyle. When I was younger, I wondered at all the doctors I knew who weren’t in the best health. As a medical student, I had figured out why they weren’t the healthiest people in the world, as their profession should dictate. They probably ruined part of their health simply getting through school.

  So, I did what I could and really worked at being healthy and balanced. Figuring out that I retained more information and was much more productive early in the mornings while the rest of the world was just waking up had helped me tremendously. And, it left me that hour in the evenings, three days a week, to hit the gym.

  This day, though, I had to work on my project early so I could go to work at Rochester Industries Warehouse #1 and pull a longer shift than usual. My father was the manager of the main warehouse for Rochester Industries, and he allowed me to work there part-time to help finance my studies. He sacrificed the most for me to attend medical school, though, footing the biggest bills. I never allowed myself to forget his sacrifices, or mother’s.

  Tramping down the stairs, sadness fluttered through my heart at her memory, and I tried to push it away. She had worked hard when I had been a child. She worked at her teaching job through the school year. In the evenings, she taught piano classes from a studio down the road. In the summers, she picked up jobs left and right; sometimes as a waitress, sometimes as a cashier at a local store, and stil
l taught piano classes. On top of all that, she offered online tutoring classes to students wishing to brush up on their German language skills or learn the language.

  My memories of her were happy but very busy ones. She always had a smile, and it seemed that she lived in a whirlwind of activity all the time. But she was happy, and she always had time for me. She never made me feel as if it were a chore to take time to cook a good, nutritious dinner, or take me to the park, or just sit with me and read stories. Truly, she was an amazing woman, and I hoped to be able to live up to her memory at least partially.

  It was unfair that she was taken from me and Daddy, but it happened. To watch such a vibrant and lively woman waste away with cancer was the most horrible thing I had ever dealt with. And, it nearly ruined my father.

  As I pushed the door open and exited to the sidewalk, I looked to the East. The sun had only just begun to paint the horizon with blush. I was on time. Taking a deep breath, I hooked my thumbs into the straps at my shoulders and forced a smile.

  Think positive, I thought, closing my eyes. Thank you, Mama and Daddy, this is all because of you, I continued with my eyes lightly closed and the cool air softly caressing my cheeks.

  Opening my eyes, I walked two blocks up and turned left, going deeper into the city. It was a forty-minute brisk walk to the library; a walk that I had always enjoyed. It never failed that by the time I reached my destination, whatever had been bothering me when I left my apartment would seem insignificant, and I would be ready to tackle whatever came my way that day.

  Twenty-five minutes into the walk, I stopped on the sidewalk, smiling toward the burst of light on the horizon. There was only a cab idling at the red light, and everything was peaceful—that’s another reason I liked the early morning hours. Before the drone and roar of endless traffic started up every day, I had time to mentally set my path for success for that day. I know, it sounds a little Zen-ish, but it worked for me.