Craving Connor - Loving Bad Series (Sample of Published Book)

Chapter 3 - Part 2

I came across a link about a kidnapped girl named Taylor Price. The name rang a bell. I checked Connor's sister's name. It was Taylor. Had his sister been kidnapped? The girl from the article had been kidnapped but after a few days she'd escaped. It mentioned the billionaire brother who'd been relieved to get his sister back alive.

Wow. It was unreal. The type of stuff that only happened in movies.

The guy who'd kidnapped her had been committed. Needing to know more, I continued my search. I scanned as I scrolled lower down the page. The next link was unexpected and I frowned, wondering if it was an article about another Connor Price.

I read the article. I matched up the details with what I knew about Connor. The article told the details of a robbery gone wrong. A married couple had been murdered. Their young daughter had been the only one to survive the attack. The older son, Connor, had been out when the incident had taken place. The picture that accompanied the article left me with no doubt it was the same Connor. He looked a world away from the billionaire I had just spoken with earlier today.

I sat back, stunned. Of all the things I may have expected, this I hadn't. My childhood had been shitty but what happened to Connor and his sister had been tragic. I don't know why it affected me. Why did I care?

For a few minutes I stared at the screen before I shifted the laptop closer to read the full article. When I was done, my hands shook.

No, I told myself, but something I read in the article resonated with the scared little girl inside me. I moved the laptop off me and stood, feeling more agitated.

I went into my bedroom and into the walk-in closet. All-white cabinets lined each wall. I tried to suppress my rising panic.

You have control now, I told myself as I gripped the handles, fighting the urge to hide.

I leaned my forehead against the wooden doors and inhaled sharply. I closed my eyes tight.

You don't have to hide. You don't need to be scared. My body trembled.

Just one line in the article about the murder of Connor Price's parents had been enough to send me into a tailspin.

Mrs. Price had first hidden her daughter in the closet before changing her mind and helping her out of the window.

My hands gripped the handles tighter as I resisted the urge to do what the little girl in me wanted to.

No. I don't have to do that anymore. I was in control. No more worrying about what the future held.

My immediate future was planned out. The thought grounded me. The panic that had nearly taken complete control of me began to ebb. My hands loosened but still held the doors to my childhood escape.

I exhaled.

The door to the memories I had successfully closed until then swung wide open.

I backed away from the closet as I remembered the first time Slater had shoved me in there to protect me.

He'd placed his finger against his mouth to signal my silence. Frightened for the both of us, I had done as he said. In the darkness I listened to my father beat Slater while I rocked myself and silent tears had raced down my chubby cheeks.

It was my first childhood memory. I'd been almost three.

Most people didn't remember that far back but the fear I had experienced had fixed that memory into my mind. There was no forgetting it.

Feeling claustrophobic, I turned and left the walk-in closet, seeking escape from the terror of my childhood. My chest fell and rose with each breath I drew in. I headed to the balcony just off the living room. The cool evening air hit me as I gripped the railing and inhaled.

In the openness of noise and city lights, the walls of my childhood terror began to fade and it became easier to breathe. I'd promised myself I would never allow myself to feel that way again. So scared in the darkness that I had stayed in the closet for hours. I shook my head as I reinforced the determination to never be that fearful again.

Looking over the streets below, I assured myself that I had overcome the worst and I wouldn't allow it to suck me back into its clutches. I was an adult now, no longer dependent on adults who hadn't given a shit about me.

The peek into Connor's background had changed my view of him. I didn't just view him as a successful businessman, I saw the young man who had struggled with impossible circumstances to build a life for himself and his younger sister. Even though he had pried into my personal life and tried to poke at a childhood I didn't want any part of, I had to respect him for taking care of his younger sister the way he had.

My thoughts invariably turned to my older brother. But whenever I thought about him, all I could remember was the betrayal that had led me into such darkness I had battled to live through it.

In my first foster home, I had made the mistake of looking to my foster parents for love but they'd been unable to show me any kindness. Their house had been run with military precision. It had broken my already fragile concept of love and family. It was the hardest and most crucial lesson I had ever learned.

I couldn't depend on anyone. The only person who could take care of me was me. So I'd stopped caring and pushed every boundary, which led me to being moved into another foster home. And that's how I'd lived. From one house to another.

I hadn't allowed anyone close enough for fear they would have the power to hurt me. It was easier to keep them at a distance so when I moved it didn't hurt. That was how I lived until I turned sixteen. I had coped as well as I could have but I was starting to crack under the strain of feeling lost in a world where I had no one.

The loneliness and despair had led me to a stupid decision. I looked down at the cuts on my wrists. It had been a rash decision and I was glad I hadn't cut deep enough to do any real damage.

I hadn't been ready to give up. I couldn't wait to turn eighteen so I'd be able to leave foster care and stand on my own two feet, but I knew I wouldn't have survived another two years. So I began to formulate a plan.

I already had one suicide attempt on record so I knew if I got my foster brother to tell people I'd jumped off the nearby bridge that everyone would believe it. It had cost me every penny I could scrounge together to pay him to lie for me. They wouldn't find my body but I knew they wouldn't spend that much time trying to find someone who had drifted through the foster system since the age of five.

That afternoon I had left with only the clothes on my back and I had never looked back.

It hadn't been easy but I had survived, and look where I was now. I turned to look at the expensive apartment I now lived in. I took a hopeful breath. I had made it. Chasing away the insecurity, pain and indecisions, I knew I had made the right choices to get where I was.

I checked my watch. It was an elegant strip of platinum across my wrist, the face decorated with diamonds. It had been a gift from Daniel. I brushed my fingers over the shiny stones as I thought back to the fight I'd had with him.

The past was done and now I could concentrate on our future together, for however long it lasted.

Just a few more months of steady work and I would be in a better financial situation. I wasn't rich by any means but every paycheck I banked, building up my savings. Money gave people freedom. For me it was a security that I would never go hungry again or spend another night sleeping on the street, fearful of what could happen.

Knowing that I had a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in was enough for me to start to relax, letting go of the bad memories.

I picked my laptop off the sofa and sat down again. I needed to check my schedule for next week. There was an email from my agency that had booked a job for Monday. I already had another two scheduled later in the week for a cosmetic company and a clothing store. Monday's photoshoot had been booked with Connor's company.