Chosen Heart
CHOSEN
HEART
by
Ann
Stewart and Stephanie Nash
Copyright © 2013 Ann Stewart and
Stephanie Nash
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to
any person, living or dead, any place, events, or occurrences, is purely
coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the
author’s imagination or are used factiously.
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the
property of their respective owners.
No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except
by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you
are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an
author/publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and
support the author by purchasing the e-book from one of its many distributors.
P
ROLOGUE
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Looking past my bleak reflection,
a neon sign hangs in the window of the bar. The word “OPEN” appearing
garish in bright neon red, that four letter word describes exactly how I’m
feeling; open…exposed…vulnerable. With a sigh, my eyes turn back towards
my unrecognizable reflection. Dark circles encompass my bloodshot
eyes. My usual vivacity is nowhere to be seen. Instead, the
puffiness of my eyelids show the hours of tears I’ve shed.
“Coward!” I silently mouth to my
reflection. Unable to move from the car, I cower in the darkness avoiding
confrontation. I know what’s about to occur. A battle of the heart
is not something that comes easily, not something that one can be prepared for.
Gripping the steering wheel, I
close my eyes momentarily.
Breathe Ely! Just breathe!
I steady myself as I slowly lift the handle. “I guess what doesn’t kill
you makes you stronger.” I repeat the words attempting to calm my erratic
breathing. Reaching behind, I pull my tussled ponytail tighter and
finally exit the car and make my way towards the front door.
A man wearing tight jeans and a
sweat stained t-shirt walks towards me making no attempts at subtlety as his
eyes take me in, setting squarely on my behind. I roll my eyes and
quicken my step to avoid his unwanted attention.
Pig!
I
practically have “fuck off” tattooed on my forehead and it still doesn’t stop
him from making a comment about my ass. He snorts and lets out a loud
belch. In that instant I’m reminded of why I’ve stayed away from dives
like this. Ignoring my growing irritation, I take another deep breath and
enter the bar.
The smoke filled room is
overwhelming as I take a few steps beyond the front door. I scan the
seats as “Red Light” by David Nail plays on the speakers. What an
appropriate song to set the mood. Swallowing the lump growing in my
throat, I fight back tears as my eyes continue their search. Reaching the
far corner past the row of pool tables, my eyes finally rest on him. He
looks disgustingly attractive with his unshaven face and brown disheveled hair,
as he sits by himself with a small glass filled with an auburn liquid. He
lacks his normal wardrobe of a suit and matching tie. Instead, he’s
wearing a black button-up with dark blue jeans; his shirt sleeves rolled up to
his elbows.
His unnerving blue eyes follow me
as I walk towards him, and as I approach him the all too familiar pull of
anticipation sweeps over me. Standing, he pulls out a chair. I’ve
always loved his level of mannerism, even under circumstances like these.
Purposely, I walk past him and sit at the chair on the opposite side. I
can’t be near him right now. Being in such close proximity might bring me
to my knees, somewhere I’m already too close to being. He sighs heavily,
pushing the chair back in and returns to his seat across from me.
Staring blankly at his drink, his
fingers run over the scratches on the tarnished table. His eyes look
heavy as if he hasn’t slept for days, but even with our matching dark circles
he is painfully beautiful. Knowing how far we’ve come, to take such a
leap backwards, has gutted us both, and it’s evident with each dark shadow.
“Why did you want to meet me
here, Alex?” I question as I glance down at my knotted fingers. Neither
one of us are making eye contact, we stare at everything except each other.
“We needed to talk,” he mumbles
still toying with the grooves in the table.
“I really don’t know what else
there is to say,” I respond, solemnly. “Let’s not do this to each other…”
“Elyssa…” Alex interrupts
me. “Just let me get this out.” Closing his eyes momentarily, he
pauses while searching for the words that he wants to say. “You are
perfect,” he declares. “Sitting here looking at you makes me forget the
past two days of utter hell I’ve had to deal with.” His words make me
melt. A knot begins to build in my throat. He can’t do this to me.
To us.
“This,” Alex gestures between the
two of us, “This isn’t us. We are sitting here not looking at one
another, not saying the words that need to be said. Don’t you think I
deserve something? Some semblance of an answer? Can you give me
that at least?” He stares at me, searching for a glimmer of hope that his
words have not fallen on deaf ears. “The last time I saw you…I’m just at
a loss for words. I don’t understand.”
For a moment my defenses drop and
with soft eyes I lift my head, finally making eye contact; willing myself not
to cry.
No Ely, you have to bring yourself to the sobering reality
that you have been placed in. Letting him get under your skin will only
bring more pain.
“What do you want from me,
Alex? What do you want me to say?”
“What happened to us? How
did we get here?” The expression on his face darkens, his eyes searching
my face.
The looming questions at hand
linger in the smoke filled air as Alex stares at his empty shot glass. I
look around the bar, searching for a sign on how to answer the prolonged
questions.
How did we get here?
In every way possible, Alex
and I are perfect for one another. If it wasn’t for my deal with the
devil, then I would give into him. I would let him take me home and make
love to me. We would forget our pasts and just lose ourselves in one
another.
How did we get here? I’m
not so sure anymore.
I tilt my head back thinking back to the past six weeks. Six weeks that
have permanently changed my life. It’s when I first started with Salerno
Health and also the first time I laid eyes on
him
.
HAPTER
1
Monday September 17, 2012
Escaping the cool breeze of the
building, the sun blasts me with intense warmth that stills me right outside
the door. The balmy summer air feels lovely against my skin as I take a moment
to revel in the last days of summer. Las Vegas in the morning is possibly
the only time during the summer that you can sit and enjoy the weather.
By the end of the day, I’ll be thankful summer is almost over since it feels
like living in the depths of hell. People say that dry heat is better
than humidity, but let’s face it, hot is hot. These are probably the same
people that think Las Vegas locals live on the strip and rent hotel rooms by
the day. Little do they know that the life of the city is outside of the
hustle and bustle of the strip.
Being known for attracting
vagrants, chronic gamblers, and alcoholics, Las Vegas is more than the catch
phrase “whatever happens here, stays here.” The beauty of the dessert
surrounds the valley and the vast mountains cradle the city like a nurtured
child. But just like any city, the metropolis is heavily regulated by our
local police and I’m truly thankful, although there are areas that I don’t
frequently visit, especially after dark.
I’m feeling slightly nervous
considering my choice of wardrobe this morning has already attracted the
unwanted attention of the laborers loitering in the nearby parking lot. I
ignored their whistles when I entered the gas station to pick up a pack of gum
and some water, but I can’t help but fidget as I gracefully walk back towards
my car.
Resting just above my knee line,
my dress flares flirtatiously yet is still professional enough for my first day
of work. I decided to jump ship and start the next chapter of my life a
month ago. Accepting the position as a Sales Executive at Salerno Health
was a no brainer. The CEO, Arianna Salerno, is well known in the
insurance community, and her reputation precedes her as very generous, yet
extremely demanding.
I, of course, know her on a
completely different level. Arianna was my mother’s closest friend before
she passed away. “Sorority sisters for life,” was their motto, which is
why my mother always referred to her as my Aunt Arianna. If it wasn’t for
my older sister Rachel stepping in, she would’ve been the mother figure in my
life. As it was, Rachel would’ve never allowed anyone else to raise
me. She felt it was her duty, and she did a remarkable job, if I do say
so myself.
When I applied for the position
at SHI I thought my employment was a done deal, but when Arianna told me I had
to interview, I almost lost it.
“I can’t show favoritism,” she
explained. I understood, but I desperately needed the position. I
wasn’t just upset, I was terrified. My rent was far more than I could
afford and my savings was running out due to my move. I didn’t dare ask
Rachel for help, so I was depending on the position at SHI in order to cover my
living expenses. If I hadn’t gotten the position, I don’t know what I
would’ve done. Thank goodness it was just a formality.
“Hi beautiful,” the raspy voice
startles me, causing me to lose my train of thought and turn in surprise.
His tousled appearance and soil reddened clothes give him away
instantaneously. Matching the laborers nearby, I’m assuming he’s
panhandling on the side while waiting for another job to drive up. That
or he wanted to continue the sexual harassment they started on my way into the
building.
“Can I help you?” I
question. But, just as I utter the words, my attention is drawn away from
his response. I’m blinded by piercing blue eyes staring in my
direction. Glancing over the laborer’s shoulder, my face feels flush as I
look at the most stunning man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Exuding confidence,
he leans against his sleek white BMW, hands in his pockets. Gloriously
tall, his muscles are prominent in his stark black, three piece suit. His
blue shirt accentuates his azure eyes, bringing more attention to his perfectly
sculpted face. Catching me staring, I notice a small smirk developing on
his flawless lips. Our eyes lock, and for a brief moment, all I can feel
is the thumping in my chest. Flustered at my lack of subtlety, my
attention is brought back to the gentleman standing in front of me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch
what you needed.”
“Do you have a dollar to
spare?” Looking closer, his appearance is more that of a beggar.
His concaved cheeks show the lack of nutrition and my heart breaks. No
one should go hungry, let alone a man that is willing to do manual labor to
earn a few measly dollars. Unable to avoid looking over his shoulder, the
object of my obsession is frowning in my direction and is now on alert.
He appears to be attentively watching my interaction with the man in front of
me, concern on his face.