Forever Distraction (Distraction #3) Read online

  At work, more plans were made regarding sites for the charity project, and after dinner, I asked to return to the beach house. Tommy was careful how he answered and catered to my wishes. He asked me if he could drive me, which again, I knew was illusion, but one I happily clung to. He let me believe I had control of the decisions, when in reality, my life was the exact opposite. He drove me to the beach house and we walked down to the ocean to sit side-by-side.

  “I am leaving the day after tomorrow. I have to check on my grandfather’s foundations.” I spoke clearly, because I wanted to make sure he heard every word. He didn’t face me, which made what I was going to say much easier.

  “I am never going to marry you, Tommy. I think you’re funny and smart, I always have but I can’t be what you want.” I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my head, still gazing at him.

  “I’ll grow on you, pretty thing; it’ll be fun.” He turned and his eyes burned into mine. His smile was wickedly naughty. “Is it too late to tell you I don’t hate you anymore?”

  I laughed; what he was saying was awkwardly sweet, which made it funny. He reached to run his thumb across my teeth and lips. “You already told me,” I whispered back.

  “No, I told you about the time when I was fifteen. I’m talking about seven years ago, when you left me.”

  “Oh.” My voice drifted off, but I continued to stare at him. His young brown eyes were filled with hope and it made me instantly sad.

  “I have a costume party Tuesday night. Who do you want to go as?” he asked me with a sincere grin, knowing I wouldn’t deny him that simple request, and he was right.

  “I’ll be a princess, any princess you choose.”

  His hand reached out again and he tucked some windblown hair behind my ear. His boyish smile never faded, and suddenly, he burst into laughter. The idea of me being a princess wasn’t that funny. “It’s just…it’s just,” he was laughing so hard he lost his ability to speak clearly, but I wasn’t upset he viewed me differently, so I waited patiently for him to finish, “you never liked fairytales before.”

  “It will be the last time.” I tore my heavy gaze away from him, because I didn’t want him to see right through me; I didn’t want him to see my heart. “I just want to feel like a princess for one more day.” I heard the word princess leave his lips more in disbelief and I had to turn my head. I hated how he said it, or maybe it was just because it was him saying it. When I faced him again, it was tense between us. There was more he wanted to say; I could feel it, but I was done. I wanted the night to be over.

  I was the first to get up. He took my hand and walked me back to the house. We strolled together through the quiet house. When we reached the front door, he spun around to face me, and before I could say anything, he kissed me. I pulled back immediately, mainly out of shock. I didn’t feel anything, just the wetness that surrounded my mouth. I gazed up into his kind brown eyes, eyes that seemed now like he would never hurt me, and he leaned down and kissed me again. My lips didn’t move and I left my eyes wide open, watching as moments passed with his closed eyes and hot mouth staying buried in my face. I was not aware if I kissed him back, because my body was still completely numb. He pulled back and grinned, a self-satisfied grin, like he knew something I wasn’t privy to. Then, he turned and left without a word. I moved to follow him, but Smith Three grabbed my elbow.

  “Stay inside, Ms. Covington,” he said as he glared me down, trying to control me. Fuck you! I wanted to say. I moved past the door’s threshold anyway, just to prove who was in charge.

  “Tommy,” I yelled. My voice was small compared to the heavy wind. He turned and smiled, and then made his way back over to me. As he scaled the steps, I thought about the reasons why I couldn’t be with him. Number one: my parents, and the agreement between them and his father. To hell with that. Number two: Tommy was there the night Jared attacked me, and when Jared kicked him out, he didn’t fight back. He didn’t even pretend to fight; I wasn’t important enough to him to take a few punches. He scurried away like a spineless coward, and I was troubled by that. Number three: his father was Dr. Holtin, creepy Dr. Holtin, who put me through years of unpleasant moments, which I tried really hard to forget about.

  I stopped counting my reasons when he was face-to-face with me. I wanted to trust him, but from experience, I knew he was after something. What? “Tommy,” I inhaled, not knowing what to say next, “is your father a pediatrician?”

  He was shocked by my questioning and shook his head side-to-side, contemplating something. “No, Katarina, you know this. He was a surgeon like your parents. Now, he has a dozen hospitals.” He reached out in a comforting way, like he was calming me, indulging me, and I hated it.

  “He was mine, though,” I informed him. Tommy moved his head slowly side-to-side again, signaling I was mistaken and crazy. “He’s seen me naked.” His eyes popped open and then narrowed at me. “More than once…more than ten times,” he withdrew his hands from me, and I continued, “more than fifty times.” He started to back away, as if I was diseased now.

  “Stop!” he yelled, but like the kissing, I was immune. “I know what you’re doing. You’re scared of this.” He waved his hand between us. “You’re scared, because our parents were right. We are made for each other. You’re acting crazy, making up things like you did when you were young. You’re lying for attention. It’s not going to work with me, Katarina; you can’t manipulate me this way.”

  I stood in front of him blankly, years of people not hearing me or not wanting to hear me, all of it bubbling to the surface like a volcano about to erupt. I knew he had more ill words to say, so I waited, held strong, and kept all my features in check with my years of training. Finally, he glanced down, and his long hair fell in his face as he spoke. “I know what this is really about…” he paused, sucking in his top lip to chewing on it before he yelled at me, “Jason Riggs…Princess, that’s what he called you, right?”

  My mouth fell open, and it wasn’t just out of shock; I was completely dumbfounded. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and then he looked down his nose at me, fucking looked down his nose and growled, “I’ll give you until Tuesday, then no more moping, no more staying in bed, and no more self-pity.” I closed my mouth and bit my tongue. I felt tears spring to the surface, but I fought every one, pushing them down with fury. “I did some checking. I watch you, Kat, all the time. Just know that, and I always have.”

  My eyes were locked into his. I couldn’t break his spell on me. It was like his hands were gripped tightly around my head to keep me focused on him. “I also know you can’t say no to me. So,” he ran a light finger over my cheek, collecting all of the hair that fell in my mouth from the constant wind, “you can tell me you’re not going to marry me all the way down the aisle, but you will never say no. We’re going to be great together; can’t you see that? Your name and your Grandfather’s combined with mine, we are going to be a powerful couple, and our children…they are going to be the next generation of perfection.”

  His words made time stand still. What happened to my boyish Tommy, my equal, the harmless fly? Who freaking says, ‘I watch you all the time’? His father does; that’s who. I found my voice out of pure desperation. He was right; I could never say no, not in this world, where there were so many demons, because saying no demanded me to stand my ground, made me permanently fixed. I was the sneak-out-and-leave girl, not the stand-up-for-what-I-believed-in type, but he always promised me one thing, and that one thing made me break my frustrated silence.

  “Children, Tommy? We always said no children. You agreed children would only get hurt. No, I will never have children with you.” He glanced away, his body stiff and hands fisted at his sides.

  “I’ll see you Tuesday night,” he snapped, never looking at me; instead, he glared down his nose at Smith Three. “Keep both eyes on her,” he ordered, and then he turned and ran down the steps, returning to his red Porsche. I think he was whistling. Freaking creepy stalker!

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nbsp; I pushed past Smith Three and made my way upstairs loathing everyone…more than loathing, fucking hating every breathing person in my life. He stalked me, had an investigation on me, and without asking me, had found out about Jason. Then, he was an utter asshole about it, and to top off, all he wanted was my last name and the last name of my grandfather…and freaking children. To hell with that. I stripped, practically ripping my clothes into shreds, and stepped into the hot water of the shower, scrubbing my face where he kissed me.

  ****

  The next day was spent with Gracey. All I wanted was to crawl back into bed and pull the sheets over my head. I still felt sick and achy all over. I even lost my urge to run and tease Smith. I had an event to attend that evening with my father, so a group of women came in and took turns making me presentable.

  I arrived on time; my father, dressed in a black tux, perfect in his appearance in every way, swept me from the limo he had sent for me. Smith was in his usual grumpy mood, and insisted he travel in the same vehicle as me. The driver eventually caved, even though he was told no one was to accompany me. He took one look at Smith and cowered, which only gave Smith more power, telling the driver to be conscious of the following SUV.

  We entered the ballroom, my father directly at my side, and my three bodyguards trailing behind us.

  “You are very pretty tonight, Katarina.” My father’s compliment was stiff, and it did the opposite of lift me up. Even his nice words twisted knots in my stomach. I hated his cold, authoritative voice. He led me around the room, stopping and talking to only people of his same class, surgeons, and hospital board members, introducing me like he was a proud father. “This is my Katarina,” he would say, and I would give whomever my fake smile. We moved about the room and I started to devise my exit strategy. I excused myself after about forty minutes at my father’s side, and told him I had to use the powder room.

  I wandered around trying to keep an eye on the exits. People found ways to talk to me; I became dizzy, lost in the abyss of socialites, and everything merged into a blur. My brother Brian appeared before me, and I was never so excited to see him before. He pulled me to the bar and I perched on a seat next to him, continuing to focus on my escape.

  “Planning your exit?” he said to me before ordering our drinks.

  “Yes,” I answered simply.

  He thanked the bartender and turned toward me, taking a long drink of his beverage before demanding, “Tell me.”

  I flashed him a sweet smile. “Okay, I think the obvious exit choice is the main entrance, but Smith is blocking that, and he looks extra cranky tonight. The balcony is my next choice; I know we are on the second floor, but I can climb down or jump off and take my chances.” I watched as two of my bodyguards moved to stand next to the balcony. “I know Smith has me bugged, and I probably have a tracker drilled into my skull.”

  “Where to? If you escape, where are you going?” There was silence as he took another drink. “Back to the animal guy? Was he good to you?” He scanned the room, making it easier for me to talk about Jason, a person I hadn’t mentioned in a week.

  It was funny how normal he was with me, no signs of anger toward me at all. I liked this Brian. “I don’t know. I mean, if he walked through those doors right now, I would probably go to him.”

  He swirled his drink and I sipped mine; it was water. Of course, my brother would order the blandest thing for me, knowing I was the blandest person. “He came to see me the other day,” he said, with his eyes locked on mine, and my heart began to beat rapidly. “He said he’s sorry. He wanted ten minutes with you to explain. He told me things you told him, Katarina.” His voice had grown fierce, but I didn’t respond. “He wants you to call him. Oh, and he said you told him you loved him.” I felt tears surface in my eyes, and I choked them down and turned away from my brother. It was quiet for a long time while we just sat there.

  I finally budged. “I heard a song on the radio the other day. I really liked it. ‘Brave’ I think the title was.”

  He smiled, relieved in the change of topic. “Sara Bareilles…I like that song too.” He talked to me a little about her, giving me other great songs she sang, and I was grateful for the lighthearted conversation.

  We were told it was time to return to the dining room, and Brian put his arm out for me to take it, so I did, happy to have my brother back. We found my father and I sat beside him, Brian sitting directly across from me. Dinner was served, and I moved my fancy food around my plate. I heard a female voice through all the male voices, and I looked up to see a pretty, brown-haired woman leaning into my brother. She was now whispering in his ear. He was annoyed; I could tell. His stare was straight ahead at me, and his nostrils flared a little. She touched the fork he was holding, then ran her finger up his hand and arm and I saw him flinch, right before he grabbed her hand and told her to leave. A smile spread across my face, and he returned my knowing look.

  “You know, Bri, you seem a little uptight.” I was provoking him; I knew it, and it felt great. He watched me and then looked to his plate. I saw him reach for a grape and a cube of cheese from one of the centerpieces. It reminded me of our food fights when we were kids. He would get angry and try to make me cry by throwing food at me, except we would only end up laughing. We never got caught; the servants always cleared the mess before our parents came home. I reached up the table and grabbed my own supply of grapes and cheeses. I gave him his smug smile back, nodding my head, telling him to bring it on. “Make it good,” I mouthed.

  That was when I felt it—the cold, stiff hand on the back of my neck. My father’s hand squeezed, and I shut off every feeling and emotion. My face fell, my arms went limp, my breathing was controlled and steady, and I counted silently. I hated when my father put his hands on me. Everything went dark for me in an instant, and it felt like long moments passed before I could hear or see anything but black. My chair started to move from behind me, but the hand on my neck just gripped tighter.

  “Ms. Covington, it’s time to leave; you have other appointments.” It was Smith’s voice. He grabbed my elbow to help me up, and then I heard in a really loud cold voice, “Dr. Covington, if you would, remove your hand from your daughter’s neck.” The room went silent and I was suddenly released.

  I walked away from the table with Smith’s hand still on my upper arm. I peeked up to see Brian by the door and was surprised. I didn’t stop walking as we passed him. He nodded at Smith and said, “Thanks,” then gave me a sad smile. I slid onto my seat in the SUV, the Smiths took their places, and we drove away. Smith reached over, plucked some barrettes from my hair, put them in his pocket, and then turned to face his window.

  The next morning, the plane took off. I was surprised to see Brian and my father on the plane. Brian said he was checking it out from the business standpoint, but I was sure there was some hidden agenda. The stewardess must not have gotten the memo it was my plane we were flying in, because she flirted relentlessly with my brother and father the entire flight. It was disgusting, disturbing, and I was growing tired of trying to ignore it, so when she slipped off her panties and handed them to Brian, I lost it. I verbally came unglued. Needless to say, I fired her on the spot, reminding everyone on board the plane that they worked for me. For the remainder of the flight, everyone referred to me instead of the males present. Brian leaned into me after it grew quiet again and asked if he had to give the panties back. I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me, but it didn’t work. My father enjoyed it though; his laughter echoed across the entire plane.

  I thought it would feel better than this to fire someone—God knows I have wanted to for days—but it didn’t. Maybe it was because I was firing the wrong person. I thought back to when I arrived and how bad I wanted to fire the family accountant. I asked Smith for my phone and called him. After a brief introduction, I fired him too. My only regret was the drama. I was so irritated by all of it I blew up, exploded, erupting into a first class bitch. It was the first time I lost control in fro
nt of my father and brother. When I was finished, their eyes were large and there was no laughter. My vocalized anger was new, and I hated the way I felt afterwards; I needed to find a better way to control it.

  The day flew by. We went to the new school and I read books to a handful of classrooms. I took a lot of pictures. My father made an effort to walk next to me, but I ignored him. It felt forced, and I hated being forced to do anything. I knew Smith didn’t like him at all by the way he purposely blocked him from me. By dinner, I was done with people and talking. I snuck away after—well, I tried to anyway. There were so many males, and all of them in protective mode. When I got up to my hotel suite, I closed the door behind me, and it immediately started to rumble with knocking. When I opened it, all three Smiths came pouring in. I moved quickly to my bedroom, and closed and locked that door.

  I wrote a letter to Jason; for some reason, he was on my mind a lot, and I wanted him to move on, to forget about me. I tried to explain how I’d moved on from him, but I’m sure I was unsuccessful at it. I opened the door, handed it to one of the Smiths, and asked him to mail it overnight.

  Chapter Eight

  A New Hobby

  It was crazy, the things you do to blend in, or maybe I was crazy for attempting to in the first place. Three whole days I went without talking. It started off as a game, but then brazen curiosity took over and I wondered if it mattered if I spoke. You know how they say ‘be careful what you wish for’? Well, that was me, the crazy girl not talking, and wishing I could blend in like I used to. Instead, it backfired; turned out people liked me better when I just stood and looked pretty. It was a different kind of invisible; people knew who I was and constantly judged me, sending me nonverbal messages that I was juvenile and too young to hold the power I had. Basically, rather than blending in to the scenery and remaining hidden, I was labeled a spoiled little rich girl, throwing a silent treatment, attention-seeking tantrum.