Four Letters Read online

  Four Letters

  by Lisa M. Harley

  Published by Lisa M. Harley

  Copyright 2013 ©

  All Rights Reserved

  Kindle Edition

  Four Letters-Copyright © Lisa M. Harley 2013. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank my family for all of their support.

  Thanks to: Jamie, Laura, Megan, and Kim for all of your help. I appreciate ya’ll so much.

  Jennie you are the best…seriously.

  I also have to thank Robin with Wicked By Design for her beautiful work on my cover. You are a great cover designer and an even better person.

  I have to thank all of the extremely talented authors I have met through this process. You all amaze me and make me strive to be better. Thank you.

  And to all of the bloggers who have supported me throughout this process – I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.

  To all of my amazingly awesome Facebook and Twitter followers - I love ya’ll!

  And my biggest thanks goes to all of you…the readers. You are the whole reason why I write – thank you for being you and supporting me.

  “Life teaches, Love reveals”

  – Anonymous

  Table of Contents

  Skye

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Lilly

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Adlee

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  The Truth

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  More From this Author

  About the Author

  Skye

  Chapter One~

  Most people would call me a spoiled little rich girl. Most people would be right. Skye Buchanan - poor little princess with the silver spoon dangling from her pouty little lips. It wasn’t my fault that I was that way. My grandfather on my mother’s side made a small, well actually not so small, fortune running a large chain of retail shops specializing in sporting goods across the United States and Europe. He made sure that my mother never wanted for anything. In turn, my mother ensured the same was true for me.

  Sylvia McDaniel, my mother, was expected to marry someone of her caliber. A man in the same class as she. My father had fit the bill perfectly. The only problem with Allen Buchanan was my mother didn’t love him. My grandfather arranged everything from the first date to the wedding. He assured my mother that she would be happy with my father. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. Sure my father took care of her, but he could never give her the one thing she craved - love. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him. Simple as that.

  Father was a trust fund baby, just like my mother, but where my mom could be sweet and act like she had a big heart, my dad was arrogant and extremely controlling. He knew business. That was his world. Family didn’t really fit into that world. With my mother he was cold, but with others he was like a different person - literally oozing charisma. My mother often commented, “Your father could sell ice to the Eskimo’s, and then convince them they needed to buy a heater to melt it.” She was right.

  Along with his outgoing personality, there was also another side to him - the side that came out when he was at home with us. Control was a major issue for him. It was something he required at all times. My mother wasn’t even allowed to purchase her own clothes. A stylist was hired by my father and he instructed her on exactly how he expected my mother to dress. The same was done for me when I was old enough.

  We owned four homes and each was designed and decorated by him. My mother never had a say in anything, and while most of the time it didn’t seem to bother her, some nights I would hear her crying and I just knew - I knew why. She wanted a real marriage and a real family. Even though she had me, I never felt like I was enough. I knew that what she really wanted was the love of her husband. She knew that wasn’t going to happen for her. She was stuck with a man who not only didn’t love her, but who didn’t have the capacity to love at all. He didn’t love her, but he was able to give her the stability and the name that my grandfather wanted for his little girl. I wonder now if my grandfather ever felt remorse for putting my mother in that position or if he honestly believed he had done what was best for her?

  I made a decision at a very young age - I would never be like my mother. I would never settle. Doing what my parents expected of me was one thing, but I would not be controlled by them. My father would not run my life and make decisions for me the way my grandfather had done to my mother before me. I wouldn’t let that happen to me. I would always control my future.

  “Only the best for my Skye,” Father would say. Only the most elite private school was good enough for his daughter. No family road trips over the summer for us. Oh no. Our summers were spent at our home in the Hamptons.

  Of course I realized that I was not living the life of a normal child, but I didn’t care. This was my norm and I loved it. Life was good and needless to say all I’d ever needed to do was bat my eyelashes and my father would give me whatever I wanted. It’s not like he adored me or loved being around me, it was more like I was another possession for him to declare.

  Since their marriage my mother had been his arm candy. As soon as I hit my teens, Father started to drag me along as his “date” to business functions. At times I honestly believed that my mother resented me for that. I never asked, nor did I want, to attend these events with him, being paraded around like a show pony. But, he was my father and when he told me I was going to a business dinner with him, I went. End of story.

  On my sixteenth birthday my father outdid himself. Handling all of the planning, he made sure my party was spectacular. Party doesn’t even do it justice, it was more like an extravaganza.

  I woke up that morning to a card on my bedside table that read, “Look out your window to the driveway.” I had no doubt that I was going to get a new car for my birthday. It was a given. What I didn’t know was that my father had bought me a Porsche Boxster convertible and had it painted my favorite color - lavender. Not purple. Oh no, that wasn’t my favorite color. Lavender was my favorite color, there is a difference between purple and lavender - really there is, and this car was the
perfect shade. It was the most amazing car I’d ever seen. As I glanced down at it from my window my entire body was shaking with excitement.

  That year I not only received the car of my dreams, but my father also surprised me by holding my birthday party on the private island my grandfather owned. He flew me and fifty of my nearest and dearest friends on our private jet to the island for the weekend celebration.

  So, yes…I was a spoiled little rich girl and I was proud of it. I had it super easy, and I liked it that way.

  My love of art started practically at birth. I was infatuated with all the works of art that hung in our many homes.

  The first time I visited Paris is a memory I’ll never forget. I was twelve and my father insisted we visit the Louvre. Most twelve year old girls wouldn’t have been so excited about spending the day in a stuffy old art museum, but I was beyond thrilled. My father and I spent the entire day viewing the most magnificent works. He gave me a brief overview of each of the pieces.

  When we finally reached the Mona Lisa it was like one of those moments you see in the movies. The choir of angels began to sing as a bright light shone through me, directing me to the most magnificent piece in the entire museum. As crazy as this might sound, I watched as her mouth began to move and those ever famous lips parted and she spoke to me. As I stood and stared at her in awe, she whispered, “Skye, you must go forth and procure art for the wealthy. Make this your life goal.”

  Who the hell could argue with the Mona Lisa? I mean, seriously that wasn’t even an option. My career path was chosen at that moment. I decided to do whatever I needed to do to fulfill this goal.

  The next step for me was an Ivy League college where I studied Art History and absolutely loved every damn minute of it. The career path I had chosen couldn’t have been more perfect for me. It just made me happy.

  Once I earned my degree my father promised me he would provide the funding for an art gallery in New York City.

  It was getting closer and closer. I was so close to fulfilling my dream. That big piece of parchment paper that declared my knowledge of fine art was placed in an elegant frame my father presented to me for my new office. The office that was located within the perfect space that my father and his realtor had procured for my new gallery.

  Most people never have their dreams come to fruition, but what I’d always dreamed of was so close to becoming a reality I could taste it.

  You know what they say about life though…it can change in an instant. This was my instant - the moment I met a man named Sterling Smith.

  ***

  Since my mother no longer attempted to spend any time with my father, and he did the same, as the dutiful daughter I was attending more and more of his annoying business functions. It was his time to parade me around and pretend that he actually enjoyed my company. One good thing about agreeing to go with him was that he would always buy me a beautiful new dress, shoes, bag, whatever he needed to do to ensure my attendance.

  Due to my unusual height (I stand at five feet, eleven inches), the stylist always had her work cut out for her. She made sure to perfectly accentuate my long legs. Working out and running everyday helped to keep my body very toned and athletic. I learned at an early age that exercise is a great stress reliever. It really does work wonders when you’ve had a rather shitty day. My black hair was cut into a short angled bob before it was all the rage and my big eyes, that I’ve always despised, are a really odd mixture of blue and green. I’ve always hated them, but I’ve been told by more than one boy who’s stared longingly into them that they are extraordinary - their words.

  This soiree was turning out like so many before it - scratch my fingernails down a chalkboard boring. Just another night for me to schmooze with my father’s friends. Well they were not really friends, more like acquaintances and business contacts. Speaking of which, an older man with white hair that was styled in a rather delectable - gag me - comb over, an unimpressive fake tan, and an impressive real Rolex was trying his damnedest to flirt with me. Much to his dismay, all he was succeeding in doing was making my skin crawl. The thought of this man laying his hands on me in an intimate, or any other, way completely disgusted me. Nonetheless I listened to him and smiled and nodded at all the appropriate times. To the unknowing observer it probably looked like I had some interest in what he was saying. In reality that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

  As I was listening to this old man pontificate on issues I had absolutely no interest in, something caught my eye. Actually, someone caught my eye. He was tall and lean wearing a black tuxedo with a silver vest and bow tie. His dark hair was slicked back and perfectly styled, glistening under the candlelight. The eyes are what made my head snap in his direction. I’d never seen eyes that blue. They were so intense and …oh my god…they were absolutely breathtaking. Even through his tux I could tell that he was rather muscular. It was hugging him in all the right places.

  Once my thorough inspection of this mystery man was complete, I noticed he was standing at the bar conversing with some Botox laden fake Barbie who was pulling out every weapon in her arsenal to get his attention. Then it happened. Ever so slowly his eyes found mine and it took everything in me to catch my breath. The beautiful mystery man stopped talking to the aforementioned Barbie and after shooting me a smile that would bring Mother Teresa to her knees, he started to slowly saunter toward me. Yes, the man was sauntering and what a fucking sexy saunter it was. With the corner of his mouth still raised up in a small grin, he nodded his head in my direction. I raised an eyebrow and gave him a small smile back.

  As he continued to cross the room toward me, my heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t beautiful, no he was so much more than that. If I had to label it I would say he was exquisite. At that moment I decided something - I wanted this man and I was going to have him. When Skye Buchanan wants something - she gets it. The decision had been made, before the night was over Mr. Exquisite would be taking up residence in my nice warm bed.

  Before he could get to me, I politely excused myself from the creeper and closed the distance between Mr. Exquisite and myself. When he reached out and placed his hand on my elbow a shiver traveled throughout my entire body. Looking into his eyes I could tell he felt it too. When he finally spoke his voice was a deep panty-melting baritone.

  “Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked with a cocky grin.

  This was going to be fun. I needed to play with him a little before I took over. “Really? Is that the best you can do?” I smirked.

  “Oh, no, I can do better,” he responded coyly.

  “Well, who am I to stifle your creativity? Please, by all means continue.”

  “Of course. So, did it hurt?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

  “Did what hurt?”

  “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” he chuckled and removing his hand from its firm grip on my elbow, he placed it in front of me to shake.

  “That was so amazingly cheesy,” I responded as I placed my hand in his and shook it lightly.

  “Yes. It really was, uh…?”

  “Uh, what?”

  “Well, I just realized here I am using my best pick-up lines on you and I don’t even know your name. I really think it would be in your best interest to share that information with me.”

  “Really? My best interest, huh? I’m not so sure about that, Mr. Uh…”

  “See, it’s annoying isn’t it?” he laughed. “Maybe if you went over to the bar with me we could have a drink and you would be more inclined to share your name with me.” He was still grasping my hand in his.

  When his gaze caught mine again, I could see that he was feeling the same things I was. I knew at that moment there was just something about this guy. Something that said I needed to have him.

  “I would love to have a drink with you,” I finally responded once I caught my breath. Then I added as I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “I’ll have a drink with you and hopefully we’ll be sharing a lot more
than names by the end of the night.”

  His grip on my hand tightened and when I pulled back from him I could see the lust sparkling in his baby blues. Yes, this evening was going to end just the way I wanted it to.

  We walked to the bar, holding hands the entire way. I caught a glimpse of my father. He was standing in the corner talking to one of his associates, and he smiled at me when he saw that I was with my mystery man. With a slight nod of approval from my father, I continued on my path with Mr. Exquisite.

  “So, what would you like to drink Miss…uh…Miss?” he asked with a smile.

  “I don’t think we are to that point yet, sir. I don’t even have my drink yet. I can’t show you all my cards this early in the game now, can I?” I let go of his hand and leaned into the bar. I was pressing my side into it and when I did that my cleavage was rather impressively on display.

  He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I didn’t realize this was a game. But now that I do, I’m intrigued.” He placed a light kiss below my ear. As he pulled away from me I could once again see the lust shining in those amazing blue eyes.

  “Isn’t life just a big game? I mean aren’t we all just trying to win at this crazy game of life?”

  “And I’m the cheesy one? Wow. That statement was chock full of the cheese,” he laughed.

  “Okay, fine. It was a little cheesy. I’m not used to this small talk thing.”

  “You aren’t? What do you normally do to get to know someone?” he asked with a quizzical look on his face.

  “Well, normally I start with…” I leaned toward him and whispered, “Fucking. That usually tells me everything I need to know about someone.”

  I watched his adam’s apple jump as he swallowed hard.