PROLOGUE
CHAR
Fifteen years earlier
Stretching my arms overhead,my back arched like a cat, I attempt to shrug off the exhaustion clinging to my weary body. I should’ve known it’d be rough going this morning. Staying up into the wee hours cramming for my chemistry exam wasn’t the smartest move. But science isnotmy jam. “Grrr. It’s going to be a long day,” I groan over a yawn. My gaze, still hazy from the dense fog of sleep, connects with the clock on the bedside table.
7:20 a.m.
My eyes spring open, and I bolt upright, immediately wide awake.Shit. How did this happen?I know I set that darn alarm.
Clutching the outfit I’d laid out the night before in my arms, I pile my hair into a messy bun and dash down the hall to grab the fastest shower in history. “Lord, please don’t let me miss this test.” I’m already struggling in this class. Losing points by taking a make-up exam is the last thing I need.
After flying through my normal routine, I sprint back to my closet to grab my shoes and stop dead in my tracks.Where are all of my clothes?
Correction. It’s notallof them. The ratty ones I wear most of the time are still folded on the shelves. Yet, the high-end pieces Geoff bought me are conspicuously absent. I reach up to straighten a haphazard hanger, stunned. There’s no real sentimental value to any of the garments. Not beyond the fact it was the first time someone had gifted me anything so beautiful.
Despite the fact I’d need to teleport to arrive at school on time, I grab my tennis shoes and make my way to my mother’s room, wondering if she and my stepdad had a fight. Late or not, I need to prepare for the fallout.
There, in the center of her four-poster king bed, lay a stack of gorgeous dresses and designer clothing. Yet onlymyitems have been placed there. Not hers.
To be fair, my stepfather had really gone overboard in the last year. Many of the items strewn across her bed still had tags attached. I never understood his need to indulge me in that way. I mean, where was I going to wear any of them? He’d touted they were a reward for good grades and mature behavior. Was he merely trying to break the ice the only way he knew how?
I couldn’t help questioning if this was simply how he managed his home. If Geoff’s seemingly infinite wealth made him hardwired to provide for anyone residing under his roof. It probably wasn’t a big deal to him. He likely had personal assistants who obtained the items without giving it a second thought.
But there was no denying it felt awkward. I reasoned it would take some adjustment, going from having almost nothing to being lavished in unimaginable affluence. However, the uneasiness that crawled over my skin with each new purchase was getting harder and harder to ignore. And wearing them hadn’t brought the joy I’d imagined. They’d only attracted unwanted attention from the mean girls in school.
Plus, there were the lude comments from that asshat, Bryan. He was always coming on to me. Clearly that jock has never heard the word no from a girl. He seemed outraged that I’d had the nerve to dismiss his advances. That alone was reason enough to stick with my threadbare jeans and thrift store novelty shirts.
“Should’ve known you’d come looking for these.” The venom in my mother’s tone cuts through my thoughts. As if on autopilot, my spine stiffens in preparation for her usual tirade. She was always accusing me of taking things that didn’t belong to me.
After years of her ridicule, I was counting down the days until Icould leave for college and put as much distance between us as possible. I needed to keep my grades up, if for no other reason than to pave the way for my escape.
“Don’t think I’m not on to you. You’re trying to wrap him around your little finger. Think because you’re young and fit you can lure him away?”Jesus. It’s not even 8:00 a.m.She doesn’t normally get this unhinged until the afternoon. But then again, my stepfather deciding to take this business trip without her has been like pouring gas on the fire of her insecurity. “It’s not enough I kept you fed and clothed all of these years when your father wanted nothing to do with you,” she sneers. “You could’ve ended up in foster care if it weren’t for me.”
Or adopted by a couple who actually wanted a child.
While the kick ass, down on their luck, single mothers who starred in the romance novels I read were laser-focused on caring for their kids, my reality had been much different. My mother’s attention was fixated on how she could land a sugar daddy.
“And how do you thank me? By trying to swish your hips around my husband.”
Stepping back as if I’ve been slapped, I shudder at her words. Heck, I may have just vomited in my mouth a little. Geoff is a little overly touchy for my taste. However, I’ll be the first to admit I have a skewed ability to interpret physical affection after years of being taught how unwanted I was.
The daily reminder of what a burden I’d been had caused me to retreat further and further into the escape books and movies provided. The dream of a happily ever after, regardless of how unrealistic. Anything to shift my focus away from my current existence.
What had I done in a past life to be saddled with a mother like this? I’d learned over the years to keep my head down and my mouth shut. Questioning anything would only sharpen her tongue. She managed to hide her wrath from the rest of the world. On the few occasions her husband was privy to her behavior, he’d pull me into his side in an uncomfortable attempt to comfort me. This only turned her simmering anger into a full pot of rage once his back was turned.
Trust me. Joan Crawford inMommie Dearesthad nothing on my mother.
Alicia Peabody had worked hard to lock down the newly single millionaire mogul, Geoffrey Markham. She’d acquired a variety of jobs to make ends meet through the years, but her primary occupation wasn’t climbing the corporate ladder.
It was landing a CEO.
My mother is beautiful. Movie star thin with long sleek brunette tresses, and deep blue eyes. With my blonde hair, slightly athletic figure, and green eyes, I’m her polar opposite. She works out with a personal trainer and has regular visits to the spa to ensure she’s in top trophy wife condition. She’s not addicted to drugs or alcohol. Although, they certainly don’t help her rabid disposition.
My mother’s biggest weakness is her paranoia. The unrelenting fear she’ll be abandoned. Then again, it could be the men she sets her sights on. Superficial assholes who can give her the Kardashian lifestyle and financial security she craves. Dear old Mom definitely didn’t marry for love. Heck, I’m not sure she’s capable of loving another human. Not even herself.
The details of my biological father’s life have been limited to biting words of vitriol. That he dared walk away from her when she was pregnant with his child. I’ve given up learning anything concrete. I speculated she likely wasn’t able to fight his attorneys to claim child support. Either that or he paid her off. Then, once the windfall was gone, she resorted to slandering his reputation. That and making the constant reminder of him,namely me,pay for his indiscretions as if I was serving an eighteen-year sentence.
