Read Forever Distraction (Distraction #3) Online
Authors: Stephanie Jean
Forever Distraction (Distraction #3)
Forever Distraction
By Stephanie Jean
Forever Distraction
Copyright © 2014 Stephanie Jean
Digital Edition: September 2014
Edited by Kayla
Robichaux and Hot Tree Editing
Cover picture by Lee Whiting. Models Kyleigh Sun and Scott Godfrey
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distrusted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This book is a word of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.
Stephanie Jean is in no way affiliated with any restaurants, brands, songs or musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
Dedication
To all my
amazing readers, thank you for your support. And to all the people who have helped me through this jouney, this book was written for you…and with you.
Contents
A loud noise wakes me from my safe bed. I pull the covers up
past my nose and peer out. I’m scared. The sound is all around me; it sounds like thunder and lightning, but it’s not. It’s my daddy. He appears angry, and I am really frightened. I stare over the top of the blanket as he rips things from my shelves and tosses them in a garbage can. He’s throwing away all my favorite things. When he’s finished, he moves quickly toward my bed.
“Katarina, get up.”
I can hardly breathe. His voice is louder when he yells it again. I slowly pull back the covers and slip off my bed. “Hello, Daddy.” My eyes drift up to his face, but I don’t recognize this man. He looks like a monster. He is wearing my daddy’s clothes and he smells like him, but his face is dark, and his eyes red on the outside and pitch black on the inside.
“Look at you,” he says like he’s eaten something Mother cooked for us and he wants to spit it out. I look down anyway. My nightgown is white and I smooth down a wrinkle, making sure to please my daddy
, because he likes everything perfect. “You are weak,” he spits out, and I feel moisture on my face. “You need to be strong.” He reaches for my arm and yanks it. My feet fall out from underneath me and I am dragged to the closet. He leans in close to my face to whisper, and the smell of his breath makes it hard for me to breathe; it’s like gas fumes.
“You are a troublemaker, Katarina, and I am going to make you tough.” He takes a step back to close the door and then returns by my side. The closet is dark
, and I hear his voice all around me. “He wants you for his son. He’s a powerful man and has his eyes on you.” His belt rattles in the dark, and I curl in a ball trying to shield myself for what’s next.
Thwack! Thwack!
I start to cry as the sting settles around my back and sides. I scream as I am hit again.
“Count!” he yells
, and I do, but quietly to myself. “Use numbers, Katarina.” I count and picture every number in my head as I hear the whip of his belt and the sound of my body reacting to the hit.
“You’ll thank me one day
, when you’re a strong lady and nobody can hurt you. You’ll be numb and you’ll thank me.” His blows continue along with my weeping, and it is hard to breathe through the sobs. I want my nanny. I want her to kiss me goodnight again and read me a story about a princess and a prince. I love my nanny; she always takes care of me.
He stop
s, and as his heavy breathing fills the closet, I can smell his rancid breath.
“I fucked up. I fucked up more than once, and if I let him have you, my slate will be wiped clean. He is not going to hurt you. I will make sure by the time his fucked up
son is old enough to take you, you’ll be numb. I messed up, Katarina, but no one else will hurt you. You will be perfect on the outside and empty on the inside. I am doing this for you. No more dreams, no more fairytales, and no more being a baby. Tonight, you grow up.” He swings the belt at me two more times and then leaves the closet. I hear the door click closed behind him, and then the lock makes a
thunk
sound. I scramble toward the door, banging on it and trying to open it. It was never locked before. Ever. It is so dark in here. My body is wet and achy, and I am so cold. I sob, not sure why I’m here. I wish it was just a horrible dream.
Suddenly,
I hear something on the other side of the door.
“
Bri, is that you? Bri…” I listen, trying to hear his voice, but my weeping continues as I whisper, “Bri, I’m cold in here, and it’s so dark.” I close my eyes tightly, concentrating to pick up his voice and I hear it. A smile forms on my lips at the sound; he is singing to me through the door. I love my brother.
When I open my eyes in the morning, the door is slightly open
, and I slowly crawl out of the closet. My room is empty. Everything has vanished, even my flower and butterfly comforter…gone. I close my eyes; they hurt as badly as my body does. No tears are left for me to cry over all of my favorite things. Movement at the door has me jerking in that direction. It is my mother.
“Get dressed. We’re going to meet your new pediatrician today.”
What?
“I like my old one
, the one who has the stuffed frog in his pocket. He’s funny and makes me laugh.” One time, I skinned my knee and I was sad, so he told me to rub dirt in it. It was funny.
“No, Katarina.” She tugs on my hair with the brush and it hurts.
“I want Sally. She does my hair in braids.” She continues to punish my hair for my spiteful words.
“You’re too old for a nanny, Katarina. We let her go. It’s time you gr
ow up.”
I hate today.
One
Coming H
ome
By the time I reached the freeway, I was dizzy from holding my breath. I inhaled a steady stream of oxygen in an attempt to calm myself, the smell of the leather seats reminding me I was on another journey. The feeling both comforting and frightening, tears welled in my eyes, but I kept driving. My hands shook as I tried to relax. I was a trembling, throbbing mess, and I drove like an escape artist who couldn’t get away fast enough. I molded myself into my comfy seat, taking solace in the comfort of my car. It was definitely my safe place. In my mind, it had superpowers and could protect me from the evils that dwelled in the outside world. I closed my eyes and inhaled, adjusting my stiff grip on the steering wheel as I glided down the highway. It was a Tuesday evening and the highway was clear, no one to watch me scurry away, and no one following. It was what I used to thrive on, the clean get away, the escape from people and their constant judgment but now it didn’t seem so thrilling. I wasn’t sure what I felt, but I knew for sure this time when I ran it wasn’t exciting…it was cowardly. I should have stayed and confronted William’s words and Jason’s actions, but that wasn’t me. I ran from…life.
I was in a constant battle
trying to pull my emotions together, trying to understand how I misjudged Jason. I thought about all the sweet things he said, all the wonderful feelings he made me feel, but he was the same as everyone. He had a cause, a mission, just like everyone in my life had. I was just blinded by his smile, his piercing eyes, and his seductive touch. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head trying to remove his face from my head. He was only a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I was a conquest to him, I was naïve, and I trusted him. I berated myself for hours. I actually welcomed it; this was better than crying. I thought about his family and his dog, how he acted and cared for them; there was love all around him. It tore me apart knowing I would never see any of them again. I held the tears back, forcing them down my throat and into my already nauseated stomach. I focused on my anger and how furious he made me. I wondered if William, Jacy’s brother, hadn’t told me everything, would Jason have? I quickly answered myself,
probably when I was least expecting it…like, ‘Pass me the salt; oh, and your grandfather killed my girlfriend.
I heard William’s words echoing in my head
. ‘
So…that must have been awkward for you, mainly because your grandfather killed Jacy.’
He was so casual about all of it that I was curious if he enjoyed being the one to break the news.
‘You look like her from behind,’
he told me, referring to Jacy.
What the heck did he mean by that?
He finished his hurtful conversation with letting me in on Jason’s revenge. I was supposed to fall in love with him and then he would break my heart; that was what William said, and I bought every word.
Why,
I questioned myself,
would I believe a complete stranger?
The answer was simple, no one would make up such a juvenile revenge…it had to be true.
I spent hours of my drive going over everything in my mind
, trying to figure out if I could or would have changed anything. I was glad I told him how I felt, and relieved…even if that’s what his plan was. I was honest with him. What I got from Jason was something I had never gotten from anyone; whether he knew it or not, the way he made me feel was more powerful and worth more than the largest sum of money. I hated all the secrets he kept from me, and if I knew I wouldn’t cave and fall back into those beautiful green eyes and that seductive smile, I would go back and tell him…no,
scold
him. I went over what I would say, picturing me saying it to his face. I was strong, egging on the confrontation in my daydream. I knew the reality was I would never say those things, never purposely make someone tell me what their feelings were for me. I was a runner. I avoided as much confrontation as possible. I came to the same conclusion as always; I was better by myself, no one to hurt me, and no one to lose trust in. I trust myself. I didn’t need anyone or anything to make me whole. Everybody had a story, one they wanted to share, one they felt like they needed to share, or like me, they simply just had one. I decided in that moment Jason’s part in this story would be a positive one. He was gentle and kind, and if I never met William, he would’ve ultimately been the man I compared all other men to.
I turned the radio up and
focused back on the road ahead. I was different. My mind thought of the journey ahead, not what happened in the past. That past was behind me. I would find a way to forget, and maybe one day forgive. Detachment and deflection were things I excelled in.
I wasn’t sure what happened to the time
, because it took me a lot longer than it should have. I arrived at my parents’ home close to seven in the morning. The nerves settled in as I approached. It sat behind an iron gate like a sumo wrestler, barely contained by the black fencing and pine trees that surrounded it. Different variations of gray stone made up the outside structure, stretching all the way to the third story, where the roof peaked over the windows. One of the windows used to be mine, and all the secrets remained behind that white-trimmed pane. I continued down the driveway and over the arched bridge, inhaling the scent of the water as it flowed under my car. The house was spread into three sections, with the garage around the back. I pulled up alongside the green manicured lawn and fountain in front of the main house and forced myself from the comfort of my Mercedes. I remembered the day I ran from here. Jared was the reason I left, but my family was the reason I stayed away. I thought about the lack of anger I had after Jared did what he did to me, how easy it was for me to shut out the rape as if it never happened. Memories of Jared and my father came flooding back to me as I took each step leading to the two large, dark-stained doors. My heart jumped in my chest and my hands grew sweaty.
I had no real reason for returning here
, my brain confirmed, even as my body moved forward, denying my inner voice telling me to turn and run the hell away.
I exhaled and stilled on the concrete steps
, twisting to check on my car. My eyes squeezed shut and I told myself the only reason I felt this way was because I had avoided these people for too long...six years. I was tired from my frayed feelings, and the thought of facing my fears alone made more tears spring to my eyes. I stuffed all of those feelings down deep and decided to take another step toward the doom behind the massive doors. I had to come back, at least to find out my grandfather’s plans for me. Grandfather always told me people weren’t perfect; he told me he wasn’t perfect and had many regrets, and I was hoping the same for my parents. The truth was, I was tired of running, tired of being scared someone would find out who I really was; it was time to face the music.
Whatever that meant. Can you really face music?
I shook my head clearing my thoughts.
My grandfather came from money
, not just money, but wealth and power. It was old money too, generations of passed down wealth, and even though he had a bucket load of it, his immediate family was always first.
He fell in love with my grandmother at a charity event
, his
family’s
charity event; she was the planner, and completely forbidden to date. I wasn’t sure why, but I know he was almost disinherited for marrying her, but he loved her…really, really loved her. They had my mother, and my grandmother almost died in the process; she lost too much blood. After that, grandfather protected his family like it was part of his own survival. You hear it all the time, but my grandfather had the money and the power to make it actually happen. My mother was never let out of the house alone until college. He paid teachers to come in and tutor her, and that’s just how it was. Because of that, the minute my mother got to college, bodyguard or not, she met and was attracted to my father, a complete control freak, just like her dad, and they fell in love. My father came from money, but not wealth, so he was always awkward around my grandfather, constantly trying to prove his worthiness. My grandfather saw right through his fake act and hated it.
After six months of dating
, my parents eloped. My grandfather was crushed. He despised my father after that; he didn’t have any respect for a man who would sneak away and marry his only daughter without his blessing. My father knew how my grandfather felt about him and never welcomed him into our house. He found ways to rub in the fact that grandfather wasn’t welcome, reminding him who was in charge. That’s how the family dynamics worked; he was selfish and made it difficult for us children to visit our grandparents. Two alpha males peed over what was theirs, and anger was the only focus, blocking out the love. Brian was persistent and continued to ask at a young age to learn from grandfather because of his love for business, and my mother allowed it. Father was irate about sharing, but ultimately, she had the underlying say. I was limited, but every second with my grandparents was a cherished one.
Finally
showing up here, I was torn; part of me craved a family like Jason’s, and the other part craved the final getaway, the ultimate ‘screw you, I am leaving’. I was curious which part would win out in the end. Growing up in their home, I was merely a puppet and they pulled all the strings. I felt sick remembering the time spent with them, and how I dreamed of the day when I would escape forever. My father did everything to the extreme, work, play, and discipline. He sent me to etiquette school; he wanted to show me off more, teach me manners so I would be the perfect daughter, proper in every way. That was my puppet training. I often wondered why they even had me in the first place. I figured it was to one-up someone else, a girl to complete the ideal family. Not that I was complaining, or admitting I was a victim in any way, because every sumo-house needed a little girl, one to throw her hair over the third story window to the ground below and wait for her prince to save her from the surrounding dragons…
.
I smiled to myself at my tiny joke.
And that was it…here I was
, standing on the outside, debating on slipping away. The doors creaked open, pulling the air from my lungs simultaneously as I stood frozen, my mind blank, my eyes rounding in surprise. The doorman stood on the other side; he must have been watching me for minutes as I battled my heavy thoughts and scaled the five steps.
“Good morning, Ms. Covington
, is there anything I can bring in from your car?” At the mention of my last name, my robot skills kicked in and I lifted my head, narrowing my eyes to comb over him, black suit, white shirt, and gloves, not even a hair out of place. He was very polished.
“
No, thank you, doorman.” I hadn’t practiced my Covington snotty side in a while; I was rusty. I am pretty sure he thinks I am a royal bitch by the way I just judged him, never looking at him like he was a person, just an object. My grandfather would have made me apologize for that. I shook the thought from my head.
I
stepped into the foyer, and immediately, my heart sped up with my breathing. I flashed to the last night I was here. I scanned the white room, my eyes falling on the curved staircase, and I remembered how I fumbled down the stairs and ran out the door, needing an escape from my life. I was suffocating already, the large walls closing in, and I instinctively turned back toward the doors I just walked through, seeking an exit. My journey was short-lived when a large body blocked my way and I bumped directly into Smith.
Smith didn’t budge from his
unwavering spot in front of me. Instead, he crossed arms over his chest and broadened his stance. I took a large step back and my eyes drifted up slowly to his. He looked furious, lips in a straight line, and I pictured his beady eyes behind his dark glasses. I am pretty sure he was scolding me silently, so I lifted my chin and attempted to scrutinize him, repeating my judgy sweep from his shiny black shoes to the top of his perfectly styled hair, but he just lurked over me. He was a tall, muscular man, and he always wore the same thing, a black suit, thin black tie, with a gold tie clip. Smith sported dark sunglasses and had an earpiece that disappeared under his stark white dress shirt. His brown hair with a tint of red and starting to recede was neatly combed, parted on the side. He was my grandfather’s main bodyguard, but was in charge of me as well. Smith was one of the only bodyguards I couldn’t sneak away from. At a young age, I called him Smith, not because that’s what his name was, but because he reminded me of a villain in a movie, one that couldn’t be killed, one that kept returning. I think he was flattered; he started dressing the part, making all of his protégés dress it as well. Sometimes, like now when he was really infuriated, he made a face that was dead-on Agent Smith in the movie. He always caught me until recently, and that’s why he was pissed at me, if I was guessing. Gracey approached me from behind, signaling me to follow her into the white-carpeted seating room. She was a nice lady in her late thirties with brown, short, straight-styled hair. She was my height, and today, she wore a gray skirt and a black, silk dress shirt. Gracey was handpicked by my grandfather a year ago to be my personal assistant, and if she were good enough to impress
him
, I would keep her for life.
She
turned as we entered the large room, and I glanced at the small computer in her hand. “Good morning, Katarina, I am happy to see you.” Her bright smile warmed me instantly, and it soothed my tattered nerves. I reached in my purse and pulled out a piece of paper that had names on it.