My perfect family.
We do have to get ready though because Darius is on his way, and both girls will be excited to see their uncle. I think it’s the leather cut and rumbling of the motorcycle that always has them squealing.
He’s also softened. His usually grim features will relax when he sees them, and he’ll give them a smile I haven’t seen on my brother before. At least, not for a long time. Not since we were kids. It’s good to see him change before my very eyes. The man he became is less of a violent rogue, and more like a family man. My thoughts flick to his love life, and I wonder if he’ll ever find someone who will lock him down and give him a family of his own.
He’s great with Kadence and Kailee, so I believe he’ll be a great father. He just needs to realize there is more to life than killing and revenge. I suppose, running a motorcycle club has its responsibilities, and he has to portray a certain persona. But there comes a time in everyone’s life where they have to change. Where they have to really think about what’s important.
I turn and make my way down the hall toward the back door, which leads me out into the sunshine. The garden looks magnificent with the flowers blooming, the grass is a stunning, bright green. With summer being here, we’ve spent a lot of time outdoors. Scarlett’s company is doing well and watching her grow into a businesswoman fills me with pride.
“Are my beautiful princesses behaving?” I question, as I close the distance between us.
“Yes, dad!” They both answer at the same time, giggles filtering to me, and I chuckle. They race up to me, and I quickly scoop them up in my arms. Scarlett pushes to her feet, coming toward me to kiss me, and we get a chorus of ewww from the girls.
This is the life.
This is happiness.
This is our happily ever after.
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While She Sleeps
Prologue
Vera
He is the first person who sees the real me.
Sees what’s hidden inside.
Not the darkness, not the light, but the gray in between.
I was the first person to see past his affliction, and that’s what started our twisted journey. We were both broken by the life given to us, and in order to survive, we needed each other.
I spent my life falling in love with the stories my nanny read to me. The fairy tales that spoke of princes and castles. And since I lived in a castle—well, a house so big it could be considered a castle—myself, I always thought I would find my prince.
I lost my mother when I was young. And when I fell into the darkness of my depression, I found solace in the depravity that came with addiction. I didn’t waste away on drugs, and I certainly didn’t drink myself into a coma.
No.
My need came from something far dirtier and unmentionable. A desire that grabbed hold of me and didn’t let go.
Until him.
My life was always filled with light, until my mother was no longer around, and I was left to my own devices. Children shouldn’t be left to fend for themselves, especially children like me—privileged. I admit I’m broken, that I should never have found myself on the website I had become addicted to.
But that same lapse in judgment brought him to me.
Each night, I would wait and watch the screen as it illuminated my old bedroom, and I would watch for him. My heart would kick wildly in my chest when I saw his name light up, and his message appear.
I don’t have anyone else but him.
I’m the possession of someone who ran away from me when I first met him. The memory is still clear of that day, and I recall his disdain for me so clearly. But now I find myself in the dark in a bedroom, which is homely, warm, and cozy. I’ve fought, screamed, and cried, but my owner only ignores me when I act like this. He may have shown me his face, but I’ve yet to see his soul.
For now, I wait. I know he’s there, watching.
I don’t know how long it’s been.
Only that he visits me every day.
I know his name. He was the first person I ever came to love and to crave. And even now, I know he will be the only one who understands my desires.
He makes me feel things.
I shiver again when I think about him. Rolling onto my back, I sigh loudly, and it echoes in the vast bedroom. It’s different from the one I had while I was growing up.
I no longer have teddy bears on my bed. There are no longer pink and pastel blue furnishings and curtains. This bedroom is filled with deep shades of cobalt and charcoal hues that offer more warmth than what I’d envisioned.
Each night, in the dark, my visitor comes to me. He talks to me in that deep, gravelly tone, which only turns the spark inside me into a raging inferno. He tells me he’s ill and that he doesn’t understand why he is broken.
I want to tell him I am too. My heart, my mind, it’s not the same, and there’s nothing I can do about it but tamp it down and ignore it. I want to ask him so many questions that plague me daily, but I don’t. Perhaps the less I know, the better.
The sun streams through the window, informing me of a new day. He told me I’ll be able to go outside soon. And I can’t wait to run through the forest. I’ve sat in the window seat every day since I woke up in this bedroom, and I’ve watched the birds flit about and the flowers bloom as spring nears.
Last night, he came to me and sat
