Loving Nicole (26 page)
“Taking you back to our room to show you the only fucking tongue you’ll ever need.”
My man, he always has the best ideas.
The End
At least for now!
Read on for a personal note from the author as well as a glimpse of Claiming Crusher coming August,
2015.
Dear Readers,
I hope you enjoyed this book as much as I did. As mentioned, I never meant for this book to develop in the way that it did. Sometimes, the characters have wills of their own, and I find I enjoy it much more when they do. Because of the way Nicole bloomed though, it changed previous plans for Claiming Crusher (and this is why I don’t write by outline).
Claiming Crusher’s timeline takes place at the same time as Loving Nicole, and though the book starts with the past, so you get to know the characters, the actual chapters will start two weeks before Nicole and Dani were warned that Michael was lurking. I try to make my books standalones and for the most part they still are, but Loving Nicole weaves the series and future spin-offs together. For instance, Diesel is screaming for his own story and I’m dying to write it. So, with the time line in mind, please read on for a glimpse of Claiming Crusher.
J
Her
Melinda
I
don’t know
what sets him off this time. I honestly don’t. I’m always so careful—the past year has
taught
me to be careful. I don’t argue, I don’t question. I make sure everything he could possibly want or ask from me is within easy reach. The cook knows the menu a solid week in advance. All meals are approved by Michael. In fact, everything is approved by Michael right down to the color of my hair and the pale, pink lip gloss I wear. I do not make a move unless it is approved by him.
I’ve been doing this for so long now, it has become second nature. I am almost robotic with it all. So, I honestly have no idea why I’m being summoned into Michael’s office. My hands are shaking and a cold, clammy sweat pops out over my body. My stomach flutters nervously and I’m glad I haven’t eaten. I’m standing outside Michael’s office in our home and I’m terrified to knock, because I
know
what will happen. If I don’t knock? If I try to run away? Michael will make me
pay
. I know, because I’ve done it in the past. I’ve learned not to run now—it hurts less. I stiffen my backbone and knock gently. I send up a prayer that he will be asleep or gone. As usual, the prayer goes unanswered. God forgot me long ago. I’m not sure he ever remembered me.
“Come in, Melinda.” Michael says through the closed door. His voice sounds bored, tired even. I know better. The monster inside of him is pacing quickly back and forth, waiting to pounce.
I walk in without a word. I still the shaking in my hands so I can gently shut the door. I walk to the chair in front of the desk, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact. When I sit down and notice the green silk, slip dress I have on, I panic. Michael doesn’t like green. He prefers me to wear light pastels. I have closets full of pink, lavender, and yellow. Those are acceptable colors. I have on the green dress because Michael was to be gone today. Is that what upset him? I’m so
stupid
! Why do I even keep this dress?
“It would appear we have a problem, Melinda,” he begins calmly. It’s as if he is talking about the weather. Then again, Michael is always calm. Even when he is doling out punishment, his voice never raises. It stays in a clipped, concise, and in a proper tone. That somehow makes him scarier, to me.
“I’m sorry,” I say by reflex. I don’t know what I’ve done, it
doesn’t matter
what I’ve done.
“I’m afraid that’s not good enough considering your crime.”
My
crime
. He always uses that term, as if he is judge, jury and executioner in charge and I the repeat offender. I want to ask what I did. It’s on the tip of my tongue to question. I don’t, I bite my tongue and concentrate on the pain instead. When I make no move to question him further, Michael lets off a loud sigh. The sound is one of annoyance. Annoyance from Michael and directed at me, only means bad things. I can’t stop the way my heart kicks into overdrive, or the apologies which immediately spring up and rest on my lips. I don’t give them voice, I beat them back. You can’t show the monster weakness, he smells it and devours you. I pull my eyes from my shoes, to look out the window. I search for the sun outside. I’m not free, but if I can concentrate on the warm glare of the sun it will help—another lesson I’ve learned over the last year. I try to focus my breathing and that’s when I see
it
.
On his desk is a tube of carnal, red lipstick. I love it and I sneak and put it on when I am alone. I dream of a day when I can wear this color all the time. I’m not brave enough to buy it. No, I’m not sure I have any bravery left in me. It was a gift from Nicole. I try to keep nothing out in the open of Nicole or my time at Three Oaks. Nicole might have hated the place, but I loved every minute of it. If only because it allowed me to stay away from Michael. When his lawyers found a judge they could buy and had that portion of my father’s will overturned,
hell
truly began for me. I had no choice but to marry Michael and move in with him. I tried running. I
tried
and
failed
. I have the scars to prove it.
So, I stored away the good memories I had. Most of which, admittedly, revolve around Nicole. I risk a lot just to remain in contact with Nic, but she is my lifeline. If I don’t hear her voice at least once a week, I feel hopeless. I can’t let hope fade. If I give in…I’ll never survive. Then, Michael will truly win.
How did he find the lipstick? I’m always so careful. I rack my brain trying to remember where I would have left it. Then I see it. The small, wooden box I keep hidden in the air conditioning vent in my closet. Inside are my most prized possessions. I may have been the Marinetti Shipping heir, but I had nothing unless Michael provided it. No, my most prized possession would bring you nothing at an auction. They consist of four things. Four things that mean everything to me.
First was the lipstick Nicole gave me. Next was a note from my father. The very last note I ever got from him. I don’t know
why
I keep it. I hate him for what he did to me. There’s a picture of me and Nicole in one of those silly photo booths at a town fair. It was probably the best day I’ve ever had in my life. Finally, there is the one thing in this world that I need to survive. The one thing I touch every night. My mother’s medallion. She gave it to me before she died. It’s my last connection to my mother. I can’t lose it.
I can’t.
My heart stops. The monster has them. I know he won’t give them back. He will destroy them, just to prove a point. He will relish the fact that he is hurting me. A hundred words come to my lips, words I could use to beg him to give me my things back. I clinch my hands in tight fists, letting my nails bite into my skin. I can’t beg. Begging him only incites him to go further, to be meaner. I remain quiet, waiting.
“Have you nothing to say, Melinda?”
“I am sorry, Michael.”
“Is there some reason you have kept these things hidden from me, my darling wife?”
The fake sugary-sweetness he uses when calling me his wife causes the acid in my stomach to boil. How much hate can one person hold in their body? There are times, when I think I have nothing but hate.
How do I answer here? Do I tell him I didn’t want him touching them? That if he did, he would somehow taint them? Do I lie and say they are unimportant? I’m honestly at a loss on how to answer.
In the end, I shrug and try playing down the whole thing.
“They are just memories of my childhood. Nothing that important Michael,” I answer, trying to inject sincerity into my words.
Michael comes around in front of me leaning on his desk. His arms are crossed and he looks so relaxed. I know what’s coming though. I know what always happens when I do something to displease the monster. The sick feeling inside of me floods through my bloodstream. Will he kill me this time? He’s come close before. Will tonight be the final end of it all? I think I’d be okay if it was. I need it to end. I can’t keep going like this.
I’m tired.
By book three you would think I have this author thing figured out right? You forget I’m blonde. There are way too many people to thank, and I’m trying to get better and condensing so I don’t bore everyone. So, let me begin by giving a blanket thank you to my Street Team and the woman who runs it Neringa. Those girls blow my mind daily with their laughter, their encouragement and their friendship. There’s not a one of them I don’t love and appreciate.
Kurt Gangluff I miss you daily. Thank you so much for the encouragement and friendship.
Thank you to Margreet Asselbergs with Rebel and Edit designs for designing and re-designing this cover. It’s not easy to go against what is mainstream. It’s much harder to go against the grain of what is expected in an MC book. I will not lie though, this is my favorite cover to date and I would have messed it up completely had Margreet not held steady and strong and taught me to go with my gut.
Thank you to Sabrina Paige. For your mentorship certainly, but more importantly for your friendship. My day is empty if I go without at least saying hi to you.
Thank you to Sam Crescent. I was panicking and you calmed me. I was thinking of not writing again and you calmed me. You my friend are just an amazing human being and a kick-ass author. To even be able to say I have spoken with you means the world, because your books kept me sane when Poppy was dying. I am still and will forever be star-struck. (The same could be said for your partner in crime Jenika Snow).
Thank you to Jen Wildner of Just One More Page for being so amazing in everything you do for authors, and for holding my hand, encouraging me and making me laugh. I love you to infinity and beyond.
Thank you to Fran Owens and CJ Fling for editing and being here every step of the way. I love you women.
Thank you to Mayra Stratham for just being a totally amazing human being and friend.
Thank you to Jess Peterson for your friendship, your encouragement and for running kick-ass parties. I can’t wait to see how fantastic your new business will be. Though I miss your touch and help with my books, I have all the faith in the world in you and can’t wait to see your business explode! Love you Big.
Thank you to Krissy Gentry, Tami Czenkus, Corry Parnese, LaVida Brisco and Echo Clayton for your laughter, your support and most of all for being my friend.
KA Matthews you were phenomenal in your help with this book. I wish you every success with your new venture!
Dessure Hutchins I love you from your Double D’s to your tiny ass and your sexy toes. No words express how much you mean to me.
Nicole Panepinto Violino and Andrea Florkowski you two have so much to deal with and you do so with laughter, grace and a kick ass attitude. You inspire me.
Tammie Smith. I can’t! There just aren’t words to thank you for what you have done and how tirelessly you work. You are my lifeline some days. I love you to the moon and back again and beyond because there are no limits. I love you Wonder Twin.
I said I was going to condense—I failed. There are so many more authors and bloggers and friends, if you didn’t get mentioned just know I was afraid to start in case I forgot someone! For everything you’ve done to help me, you have my gratitude and devotion. I love you all.
Jordan.
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