Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
It was all planned out … until he appeared.
Walking into the coffee shop where I’m sketching, Derrick is as hot as sin, and things I have never felt before erupt inside of me. The way he looks at me like I’m the only woman on Earth, makes me ready to give him anything.
From that day forward, I feel like eyes are always watching me, someone waiting just around the corner to make me theirs.
I know it's him. Derrick. It should scare me to death, except … what if I want to belong to him?
I can't help myself. From the very beginning, I knew Alina was the one.
She's gorgeous, with curves in all the right places, and a mouthwatering innocence that makes me want to claim her for myself.
I'm not letting her go. She's mine.
But I've come to Cape May to get away from the world, and if she finds out who I really am, is there any way she can ever want me for the man I am, and not the numbers in my bank account?
Unable to let her go, I watch every step she takes, keeping tabs on her until the right moment I can make her mine. She just needs to trust me, and the chemistry between us will take care of the rest.
A man like me always gets what he wants, and this time, it's her.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
ALINA
I’ve always been an introvert. It doesn’t bother me to be alone; it’s just part of who I am. Sure, I enjoy having friends and spending time with them in low-key situations, but I’ve never wanted or needed to be any sort of social butterfly.
When my mom passed away earlier this year, it tore me into pieces, but it wasn’t really unexpected. She had dealt with several addictions for so long that I had seen the writing on the walls for years. What I didn’t expect, though, was that the house we were living in would be taken away from me in a flash. Without her disability checks, and me barely scraping by as a freelance digital artist, there was no way for me to pay the rent.
Which of course, left me with one option—my dad.
Dad lived with Mom and me for the first five years of my life in Indiana, but his mid-life crisis hit him like a Mac truck, and he left us to live in New Jersey as a newly single man. He sent birthday cards and visited every few Christmases to see me, but Dad was always more of an idea than some tangible member of my family. I never expected to be twenty and on the brink of homelessness, though, and I swiftly only had Dad to fall back on.
Luckily, Dad had bought an enormous historical home in Cape May and made himself quite a bit of money as a real estate mogul. On the drive over from Indiana, I counted at least ten billboards with his face on them.
Ugh. It makes me embarrassed to even think about it. Maybe it’s a good thing my social circle is so small—less of a chance that someone will see one of those billboards and make fun of me for it for the rest of my life.
Now, I find myself standing at the end of his long gravel driveway, staring up at the huge blue Victorian house with white shutters. My old red Honda Civic is next to me, hot from the long drive even in late September.
And there is my Dad, standing in the doorway, waiting for me, looking as awkward as I feel. He’s obviously got plenty of room for me, but that doesn’t mean this is an easy experience for either of us.
But finally, the dam breaks, and he opens his arms for a hug. “Come here, kid.”
So I do.
Dad had a suitcase packed by the door, but he stayed long enough to get me settled in my own room and show me around. There was the strained conversation about Mom, where I admitted we barely spoke for the last two years anyway. I cried, and he hugged me once more, stiff as a board and supremely uncomfortable. At least we got that out of the way early.
He isn’t leaving me for good—again. Instead, his tiny speck of fame from his real estate business has won him the affection of a much younger fitness influencer from California. He’s flying out to stay with her for two weeks, and his trip just so happened to coincide with my hastily planned arrival. I don’t mind … much. While I hope to have some time to bond with the father I barely know, I also understand that it will be nice to have some time alone to adjust to my new life.
It definitely puts a damper on the secret goal I’ve been holding close to my heart, something I have a hard time admitting to myself. Deep down, I want to build a relationship with my father. I’m just so lonely. I think I said goodbye to my mother a long time ago when I knew she wasn’t going to get any better or stop using. I left my few friends back in Indiana, and with all of my work contacts being online, I sometimes can go a week without talking to anyone face to face.
There’s this part of me that thought Dad and I would form this instant bond, and that loneliness I’ve held for so long would be healed. But of course, he has plans. A life. He has to leave, and I’ve already forced myself to get over it.
Really, I shouldn’t complain. I have a place to stay rent-free and a chance to jumpstart my life. Still, that hole inside of me remains.
Blinking back an unexpected fresh bout of tears, I focus instead on my new living space. The decor is what I expected—minimalist stylings that tell me Dad hired an interior designer mixed in with the more classic lines and pieces that must have come with the old house. The fixtures are all new, and everything in the kitchen is shining chrome. My room is done in creams and pale blues and has clearly never been used before. It’s plenty big, and there’s a bathroom right down the hall. It’s all I need—simple and functional.