Embrace Me (Stark Ever After Book 7) Page 7

  Curious to know the B.B.S.’s name? You’ll find out in Enchant Me!

  And more than that, you have a say in what Nikki and Damien name the baby!

  Just follow the link below to submit your choice for Baby Boy Stark’s name, then be sure to pre-order Enchant Me so you’re the first to know his name!

  Here’s the link:

  https://www.juliekenner.com/lets-name-baby-boy-stark/

  (All readers who submit the chosen name will receive an acknowledgment in the book!)

  Hurry, the suggestion form will be closed at midnight CST on May 31, 2021!

  Have you ordered Enchant Me?

  It was supposed to be a new beginning for billionaire Damien Stark, his wife Nikki, and their family…

  I thought I knew everything about my beloved husband, Damien Stark. In our years together, I’d heard all the rumors, faced all the dark secrets, and survived the danger that comes hand-in-hand with loving a powerful magnate like Damien.

  After all we’ve been through, I believed we were finally free of the past, of the darkness, ready to move into the light of our future together. As we stand ready to renew our vows in front of our friends and family and move on to the next chapter of our life together, I am giddy with joy and love.

  I am unprepared for the devastation that steals my happiness and threatens our future in ways I never imagined. Given our past, I should have expected it. But how could I when Damien didn’t either?

  This man has come from nowhere, and he says he’s Damien’s son. Everything is chaos, Damien is wrecked, and I don’t know where to turn. The worst part? I think I believe him.

  And he has promised to destroy everything we love.

  Click to preorder your copy of Enchant Me now!

  And as a side note, if you don’t know the story about Nikki and her father, Frank’s, reunion, you can read that in Deepest Kiss, available in ebook here: Deepest Kiss

  Be sure to keep reading for the first FOUR chapters of My Fallen Saint, the first book in my newest trilogy featuring billionaire philanthropist Devlin Saint.

  “Something unimaginable and extraordinary has happened in My Fallen Saint. Devlin Saint just captured my heart's number one spot as a broken, dominating and delicious alpha man from J. Kenner. This story was explosive and enticing. It was such a powerful mix of passion, suspense and angst. I have no words. No words.” PP’s Bookshelf

  My Fallen Saint

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  The wind stings my face and the glare from the afternoon sun obscures my vision as I fly down the long stretch of Sunset Canyon Road at well over a hundred miles per hour.

  My heart pounds and my palms are sweaty, but not because of my speed. On the contrary, this is what I need. The rush. The thrill. I crave it like a junkie, and it affects me like a toddler on a sugar high.

  Honestly, it’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to put my 1965 Shelby Cobra through her paces and kick her powerful engine up even more.

  I can’t, though. Not today. Not here.

  Not when I’m back, and certainly not when my homecoming has roused a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. When every curve in this road brings back memories that have tears clogging my throat and my bowels rumbling with nerves.

  Dammit.

  I pound down the clutch, then slam my foot onto the brake, shifting into neutral as I simultaneously yank the wheel sharply to the left. The tires squeal in protest as I make a U-turn across the oncoming lane, the car’s ass fishtailing before skidding to a stop in the turnout. I’m breathing hard, and honestly, I think Shelby is, too. She’s more than a car to me; she’s a lifelong best friend, and I don’t usually fuck with her like this.

  Now, though…

  Well, now she’s dangerously close to the cliff’s edge, her entire passenger side resting parallel to a void that boasts a view of the distant coastline. Not to mention a seriously stunning glimpse of the small downtown below.

  I ratchet up the emergency brake as my heartbeat pounds in my throat. And only when I’m certain we won’t go skidding down the side of the cliff do I kill Shelby’s engine, wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, and let my body relax.

  Well, hello to you, too, Laguna Cortez.

  With a sigh, I take off my ball cap, allowing my dark curls to bounce free around my face and graze my shoulders.

  “Get a grip, Ellie,” I murmur, then suck in a deep breath. Not so much for courage—I’m not afraid of this town—but for fortitude. Because Laguna Cortez beat me down before, and it’s going to take all of my strength to walk those streets again.

  One more breath, and then I step out of the car. I walk to the edge of the turnout. There’s no barrier, and loose dirt and small stones clatter down the hill as I balance on the very edge.

  Below me, jagged rocks protrude from the canyon walls. Further down, the harsh angles smooth to gentle slopes with homes of all shapes and sizes nestled among the rocks and scrubby plants. The tiled roofs follow the tightly winding road that leads down to the Arts District. Tucked neatly in the valley formed by a U of hills and canyons, the area opens onto the town’s largest beach and draws a steady stream of tourists and locals.

  As far as the public is concerned, Laguna Cortez is one of the gems of the Pacific Coast. A laid-back town with just under sixty-thousand people and miles of sandy and rocky beaches.

  Most people would give their right arm to live here.

  As far as I’m concerned, it’s hell.

  It’s the place where I lost my heart and my virginity. Not to mention everybody close to me. My parents. My uncle.

  And Alex.

  The boy I’d loved. The man who broke me.

  Not a single one of them is here anymore. My family, all dead. And Alex, long gone.

  I ran, too, desperate to escape the weight of my losses and the sting of betrayal. I swore to myself that I’d never return.

  As far as I was concerned, nothing would get me back.

  But now it’s ten years later, and here am I again, drawn back down to hell by the ghosts of my past.

  Chapter Two

  I met Alex Leto on my sixteenth birthday, and the first time I saw him, something inside me turned on. Something like happiness, yet so much more complicated. Optimism, maybe, but mixed with rainbows and unicorns.

  The day started gray and dismal, with storms rolling in at dawn. They parked themselves over my house, spread their dark gray arms, and stirred up wind and rain from daybreak all the way into the evening. Six of my ten invited guests called to cancel, but even before the party started, I’d known that it was ruined.

  I should have seen it coming. Maybe not a gale, but something. After all, I was not the most blessed of kids. For starters, I was an orphan.

  I’d turned four the day after my mother died, and though I used to tell my dad that I remembered her, by the time I was ten, that was a lie.

  Her brother, my Uncle Peter, moved his commercial real estate business to Laguna Cortez after she died. My dad couldn’t afford to hire help, and as Chief of Police he had an erratic schedule. Daddy and I lived in the hills, but I’d go to Uncle Peter’s huge, light-filled beach house most days after school.

  It was a stunning home, but I hated every moment away from my dad. Maybe some part of me knew what was coming. I don’t know. All I know is that I wanted him beside me and safe.

  But wanting doesn’t matter. It never does. Wants are just so much fluff, and Fate is a goddamn bitch. The summer I turned thirteen, I learned that lesson well.

  That’s when a gunman murdered my father, then killed himself. People tried to comfort me by pointing out that my father died on duty in the job he loved. But it didn’t help. He was still horribly, painfully dead.

  After that, my life spiraled even more. I moved in with Uncle Peter, and all my friends thought that I was so lucky, because there aren’t that many beachfront homes in Laguna Cortez.

  But I wasn’t. I wasn’t lucky at all.

  E
ventually, I grew accustomed to my new normal. I’d find myself going entire days feeling happy, only to hate myself at night, because how could I experience joy when my parents had both died so horribly?

  Which was why I wasn’t surprised when the storms rolled in on my birthday, because life will always sneak up and bite you.

  Still, even with only a few kids showing up, we’d had fun. Instead of the beach, we settled into the media room to watch movies. And when Brandy and I went downstairs to ask Uncle Peter if my favorite pizza place was delivering in the storm, there he was.

  A few years older than me, Alex was tall and lean, with close-cropped blond hair, a clean-shaven face that still had a boyish roundness, but an expression that was fully adult. His sandy brown eyes held me in place when he turned to look at me. And when his wide mouth curved into a friendly smile, a low, thrum teased between my thighs.

  I’d had a crush or two by then, but I’d never reacted that viscerally to a guy. But Alex … well, a mere glimpse gave me more understanding of what all the fuss was about than any of the late-night gossip sessions at Brandy’s frequent slumber parties.

  When he came over to shake my hand and wish me a happy birthday, I almost passed out. I was so flustered that I could only stand there, my hand in his, as I tried to play back the conversation of the last few seconds.

  Alex Leto. That’s how he’d introduced himself. And he was working for Uncle Peter during his gap year while he decided on a college.

  “Hi,” I’d squeaked, then kicked myself for being utterly uninteresting.

  “Trouble with the movie?” Uncle Peter had asked, and I’d squinted at him, not understanding a word. “The projector,” he clarified. “Did you come down because I need to fix something?”

  “Oh! Right. Pizza. We want to order pizza. Will they deliver in this weather?”

  “If not, I can go get it for you,” Alex said, and if I hadn’t already fallen hard, that would have sealed the deal. A real live Prince Charming right in my kitchen.

  Once Uncle Peter agreed, there’d been no more reason to hang out in the kitchen, and Brandy and I reluctantly went back to the media room. “Oh. My. God,” she whisper-squealed as we climbed the stairs. “Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

  “He was being polite,” I countered, though her words revived that down low tingle, now complemented by a swarm of butterflies in my belly.

  “Was he?” She winked at me, and I grabbed her wrist before she could burst into the media room.

  “Don’t say anything.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “I just … I … please? Can we tell them about the pizza and leave it at that?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  She gave me a quick conspiratorial smile. “But he really is super cute.”

  “I know, right?” And we both burst into giggles, only to fall into total hysterics when our friend Carrie pushed open the door with a scowl.

  “Hello? Waiting the movie on you two. I mean, rude.”

  We clapped our hands over our mouths to bite back another flood of laughter, took our seats, and settled in until the pizza came. And even though Alex was the one who delivered it—and even though he stayed to watch the second half of Aliens and sat right next to me—Brandy never said a word. Not then. Not ever.

  Which is a big part of why she’s my best friend to this day.

  After that, Alex was around a lot. Peter had a home office, but he did most of his work at construction sites or in the offices of the apartments and hotels he owned. He’d hired Alex to do administrative stuff, which meant that Alex was at the house most every day.

  I turned down beach and movie offers from my friends, choosing to stay in and fetch Alex water and snacks and coffee. Each time I’d linger a bit, asking what he was doing, and he’d never blow me off. He’d even invite me to stay. Then one day he asked if I wanted to help.

  “Not as interesting as spending the summer with your friends,” he’d said, “but I’d love the company.” He smiled then, and that tiny little motion—nothing more than muscles around lips—had melted me.

  “Good. Because I’d rather be here.”

  “Would you?”

  I nodded, my heart pounding with such ferocity I was sure he must be able to hear it.

  “That works out great, because I like having you here.”

  I met his eyes, and something deep inside me roared. For the first time in my life, I felt the hard punch of true, sexual desire.

  “Right.” I swallowed, trying to overcome my desert-dry mouth.

  So that’s what I did, helping him when I could, taking up space the rest of the time. And we talked. About anything and everything. I’d never been as comfortable with anyone in all my life, and that was despite the humming, buzzing, crackling in the air whenever we were near each other.

  “Have you done anything?” Brandy asked when we were back in school months later.

  “No! He works for my uncle, remember? Besides, he’s eighteen. Me, sixteen. And he knows it.”

  She waved away my words. “Yeah, but so what? You act older. Ever since … well, my mom says you raised yourself.”

  Honestly, Mrs. Bradshaw wasn’t wrong. My uncle may have sheltered and fed and clothed me these last few years, but that was about it. Nurturing, I got at Brandy’s house. And the rest? Well, I guess maybe I did raise myself.

  “Eighteen,” I repeated firmly. “Nineteen next week.”

  “That’s perfect.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Wrap yourself in a bow, and you can be his present.”

  I didn’t give myself to him, of course, but when he turned nineteen, I gave him a leather friendship bracelet with a Celtic knot. “That’s called a love knot,” he said, and I felt my cheeks burn hot.

  “I—I didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t you? Well, it makes it all the more special to me.”

  “Oh.”

  He held out his arm to me. “Fasten it?”

  I did, lightly stroking my thumb over his wrist as I manipulated the clasp.

  “This is fucked up,” he said, so soft I could barely hear him.

  “What?”

  “Us,” he said, the words like ice.

  “I’m sorry. I should—” I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. We were alone in Uncle Peter’s study, and he held me in place.

  “You’re sixteen.” He practically growled the words. “Why the hell are you only sixteen?”

  I shook my head, blinking as I tried to prevent the flood of tears.

  “We can’t,” he said, and I didn’t have to ask what he meant.

  “I know,” I whispered. I’d been talking to the ground, but I told myself that wasn’t fair. He deserved the words. He deserved to see my heart. I looked up and met his eyes. “But I want to.”

  His head tilted in the slightest of nods. “I know,” he said. “I want it, too.”

  Chapter Three

  For months, being with Alex was both torture and bliss. It was like living in a pressure cooker, and I think we both knew that the day would come when we couldn’t fight it anymore.

  Then, right after Christmas break, Brandy’s dad pulled up stakes and moved the whole family to San Diego with barely any notice at all. We’d been devastated, and the day before she left, I helped her pack her room and stayed until her mom said I had to go because the movers were coming at five in the morning. I’d left reluctantly, fighting back tears so that Brandy wouldn’t lose it all over again.

  I got home to find Alex waiting up for me, ostensibly catching up on Uncle Peter’s paperwork. I’d hurried up to my room, unable to even talk to him without risking more tears.

  I’d been about to doze off when I heard the light tap at my door. I propped myself up, assuming it was Uncle Peter coming to say goodnight. Instead, it was Alex.

  He shut the door behind him, then stood on the far side of the room. “I wanted to
make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m sad,” I admitted, and it was as if the words were permission for the tears to flow. “I don’t think I’ve been this sad since Daddy died.”

  “Oh, Ellie…” I barely registered the fact that he’d crossed the room to me. That he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and I was upright and clutching him, sobbing against his shoulder.

  I don’t know when he slid into bed next to me, but he did. We were both fully clothed, him in jeans and me in PJs, and he held me tight as I snuggled against him. He stroked my hair, and I cried myself to sleep. Not only because Brandy was gone, but because I knew that one day soon, Alex would leave for college, and I’d lose him as well.

  Nothing happened that night. Nothing sexual, anyway. But emotionally? Well, whatever bit of my heart I’d held back was fully his by morning. He snuck out before Uncle Peter arrived, and we shared a secret smile in the kitchen as I made toast to eat on the way to school. Just a normal day. Except it would never be normal again.

  After that, every day held smiles and shared glances, and I floated on a cloud knowing this wonderful guy had become my rock. Someone solid and real in a world where everyone I loved kept getting ripped away.

  I didn’t have a party on my seventeenth birthday. With Brandy gone and Alex out of town for some work thing, I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm. Instead, Uncle Peter took me out to dinner, and when he went out later that night, I took a twilight stroll down the beach to the tidal pools.

  I sat on the rocks, careful not to slip into the pool and disturb the tiny ecosystem. The moon was full, so there was enough light to see the silver fish, brown anemones, and all the rest of the sea life that lived in that fragile little world.

  I was bent forward, watching a hermit crab navigate its way across the pool, when I heard the soft pad of footsteps behind me. A spike of fear shot through me, and I jumped to my feet, not even thinking, and lost my footing. I started to go down, certain I’d either squash all the critters in the pool or scrape every bit of exposed skin on the rocks.