Read Entangled (Vice Games) Online
Authors: Alice Cooper
Entangled (Vice Games)
Love. Lust. Money. Games.
When Phoebe Walters prevents a teenage girl from jumping off a bridge, she did not anticipate that it would also bring her into the path of Tristan Vice – the young girl’s handsome and incredibly rich brother. Despite being attracted to him, Phoebe finds him cold and unnerving. But she cannot stop thinking about him and its turning her into an insomniac.
Despite rejecting his offer the first time, a turn of events forces Phoebe into his employment. But the job requires more than just keeping watch over his sister’s mental health and Phoebe quickly becomes entangled in his family game for control.
DISCLAIMER: Entangled contains language, violence and explicit scenes. It is intended for a mature audience.
Entangled
(A Vice Game Novel)
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without prior written permission from the author; with the exception of promotional purposes and not exceeding two percent of the total page count.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of all products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover art by Alice Cooper
Contents
Chapter 1 – The Chance Meeting
Chapter 2 – An unexpected visitor
Chapter 5 – The home of Tristan Vice
Chapter 6 – The Silent Contract
Chapter 7 – Meeting Elliot Vice
Chapter 8 – A short lived celebration
Chapter 9 – A clash of hearts and minds
Chapter 10 – Awkward encounters
Chapter 13 – Secrets and Truths
Chapter 14 – A reluctant bride
Chapter 15 – A heart-fuelled decision
Chapter 18 – A call from the Main House
Chapter 19 – A flirt with death
Chapter 20 – A union of broken souls
It was a horrid day. The wind blew rain at my face and soaked my hair.
My run down flat was not too far away and cutting through the park was closer than going through the street. As I walked towards the bridge, I saw a fellow soaked creature standing on top of the rails. She was brunette, sixteen and crying. She wore an oversized shirt and black male trousers.
‘Shit,’ I found myself saying. The girl was going to jump. Below was a swelling river. ‘Hey!’ I called out to her. She turned her head, black mascara lined her cheeks. There was a needle in her left hand.
‘Fuck off!’ she yelled at me.
‘Everything’s going to be alright,’ I told her.
‘No it’s not!’ she shook her head. Her face was filled with pain and grief. ‘No one fucking cares about me.’
‘Hey, I’m sure there’s someone…’I started, unsure about what to do. She was about to jump and I could not just simply stand here and let her.
‘You don’t know me!’ she cried. Her sobs mingled with the heavy rain. ‘Just fuck off!’
‘What’s your name?’ I asked, doing my best to stay calm. How do you convince a suicidal teen not to kill herself?
A little voice inside my head told me to keep her talking.
‘Why does it matter?’
‘So when you’re dead, I can tell the police who it is,’ I said with a surprisingly calm tone. My brain was not working properly and perhaps it is not the best thing to say at this particular moment. It’s not like I deal with this sort of thing on a day to day basis. I’m not a social working or a nurse or anyone qualified to do this. I work in the fruit and vegetables aisle at the supermarket. But I was the only one on the bridge and there was no time to call anyone for help.
The girl paused and hesitated for a moment. ‘Annabelle
Vice.’
‘Alright Annabelle, what should I tell them? I mean, what was it that drove you here?’ There I go again. It sounded almost like an encouragement for her to kill herself. But it brought me some time.
It allowed me to edge closer without her noticing.
‘Why should I tell you? You’re no one. And no one cares about me anyway.’
‘Alright, no one cares,’ I said. ‘Anyone in particular you’re thinking of? Is there anyone I should call and tell them this message? I mean, that’s what people do isn’t it? When they’re about to kill themselves, they always leave some sort of message.’
Annabelle seemed confused. I should be telling her to stop, to get down from the railing and prevent herself from t
he plunge to death by drowning. I was only a step away.
‘Who the hell are you?’ she asked.
‘Phoebe Walters.’
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
I blinked, unsure what this distressed girl meant by her question.
‘I don’t know. I work at Grover’s, you know the grocery store next to mall? I just got off my shift and on my way home. How did you get here?’
The girl whimpered. ‘That bitch,’ she uttered with a seething ferocity in her voice. ‘She’s bloody using me to get to Tristan. If I die, he’ll be free.’
‘Who’s Tristan?’ I asked, ‘your boyfriend?’
The distressed teen threw me a confused look.
‘What? No. He’s my brother.’
I blinked. Now that was unexpected.
‘And this bitch you’re talking about is who?’
‘Shut up. Why would you care? You don’t know me.’
‘You know I can’t do both at the same time, I mean shutting up and answer your question. You’re right about one thing though, I don’t know you but whatever your problem is with the bitch, do you really think that killing yourself is going to work? I mean, achieve whatever it is you want to achieve.’
I spoke without thought. In this sort of situation, I should really be trying to coax her down from the edge of the bridge. But then I didn’t really have much time to pause, contemplate and chose my words carefully.
Something I said
must have installed some sensibility back into her confused mind. I saw a wave of emotions moved through her body and giant globs of tears could be seen dripping from her eyes.
‘I don’t know,’ she cried.
‘What would you do?’
‘Stay alive,’ I said. Here was my chance but a
gust of wind caught her body and pushed her over the edge. I lunged after her and caught her hand. She screamed and gripped my arm tightly. There is something about being dangled ten feet over death that makes you think things over very quickly.
‘Hey, I’ve got you,’ I told her.
Annabelle didn’t really want to die after all. It was clear when she exhorted all her strength against it. I braced myself against the slippery railing. I don’t know how but I managed to haul her up. Or perhaps the peril of falling in with her gave me the burst of strength I needed.
It felt much longer than it actually took and I soon found her seated next to be on the bridge. She cried and I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. We were both drenched.
‘Everything’s going to be alright,’ I told her.
She shook her head and cried. I could feel her warm tears and saw on her wrist
s the marks of a drug user. The rain refused to ease up. Annabelle produced a phone from her pocket and handed it to me.
‘Please call Tristan,’ she begged, her voice quivered as she spoke. We were both shivering from the cold rain. ‘He’s my brother.’
I already knew that but didn’t say anything.
She curled up in my lap like a puppy and closed her eyes. My thumb fumbled over the touch screen and I did my best to shield the device from the rain. I managed to hold up so far in her pocket but I doubted it could last that long to prolonged exposure to the buckets of water that fell from the sky. There wasn’t many names and numbers on her contact list; three to be exact. I quickly pressed my fingers to call Tristan.
‘Anna,’ answered a cracked voice. I could hear the reception going and decided to act fast.
‘Not Anna,’ I told him
. ‘I’m at West Spring Park. Your sister just tried to kill herself. My flat isn’t too far away, number 32B Locks Street. How fast can you get here?’
‘Fifteen minutes,’ said the voice. ‘Is she alright?’
‘Alive, yes. Alright? You can be the judge. It’s raining and we’re soaked. I’ll take her to my place. Meet you there.’
Just as I finished my sentence, the phone connection died.
The rain had gotten in and fried the circuits. Electronics and water was never made to be together.
‘Is he coming?’ Anna asked.
‘Fifteen minutes. I told him to meet me at my flat. Come on, we’ll be dry there.’
She staggered as she walked and I made sure to k
eep her supported at all times. The building was only just through the park and I took her up the dank stairs. There was hardly any light and Anna struggled with her legs. I wondered if I should call an ambulance, but her brother is on his way. He can sort her out.
I fumbled with my keys. When we were finally inside, Anna plotted herself down in the
hallway and curled up again.
‘Come on, you can’t lie there like that,’ I urged as I pulled her to her feet again. She cried and sobbed wildly. But in her messed up state, Anna was complacent enough to move into the living room. I went into my bedroom, pulled back the wardrobe doors and
took out all the clean towels I had; which wasn’t many. Living on ten bucks an hour doesn’t let you have too many possessions. I dried the distressed girl’s hair and wrapped a clean dry towel around her shoulders. She hugged it like a blanket.
It was about roughly three minutes later that a loud urgent knock came at the door. I went to answer it and was surprised by the sight.
A man in his late twenties stood on the other side. He wore a tailored dark grey suit, his hair slicked back in a professional and yet dangerously attractive fashion and his face – clean shaven, high cheekbones and strong jawline – it took me by surprise. He was a professional, an office worker of some sort. But the quality of his suit and the way he presented himself told me that he was more than just a mere office boy. The attraction was instant and I felt frumpy in my soaked state.
‘Where is she?’
His voice was low and strong; his deep blue eyes alluringly beautiful and dangerous. It was clear that he was not in the mood for any sort of conversation.
‘Inside,’ I said. ‘You’re Tristan?’
‘Yes. Tristan Vice.’
There was a sense of embarrassment to lead a living god into my derelict ‘home’. There was a puddle on the kitchen floor where the roof leaked. Anna
remained exactly as I had left her – curled up, crying and wrapped in a towel. Tristan Vice went and knelt down next to her. He took a look at her wrists and there was nothing to be said. Along with needle wounds, there were cuts and slashes and bruises from some sort of struggle or fight. Anna opened her eyes and at the sight of her brother, she threw her arms around him.