Beautiful Tears (Enemies to Lovers - Dark Romance Book 1) Read online

  BEAUTIFUL TEARS

  by

  C. P. MANDARA

  Published by Chimera Books

  This work is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright C. P. Mandara. The right of C. P. Mandara to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

  The healthy man does not torture others - generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers.

  Carl Jung

  Chapter 1 - Harper

  I kicked his tombstone and then screamed. It should have been a relief. I was twenty-five years old and free of the crushing weight that had been strangling me for the past five years. Now I could start afresh, get a job, and reclaim my independence. Maybe I could find myself along the way. I'd been lost for so long, I wasn't sure I would be able to piece myself back together - but I was going to give it a damn good try. Kicking the slab of mottled grey granite once more, I sank down upon the wet grass and sobbed my heart out. The tears weren't for my late husband. They were for what might have been, or what should have been if lady luck had seen fit to smile upon me. I swear I was born under a star of ill-fated misery. Some days I wanted to drown in self-pity, but I knew first-hand where that would get me - absolutely nowhere. It was more important than ever that I stand on my own two feet now, else I was going to drown in the crap surrounding me. When one chapter ends, another begins. Never had a truer statement been said. Unfortunately, I feared this chapter might be worse than the last.

  Brandt was going to be released from prison in one week's time. I had seven days to hightail it out of London before all hell let loose, and there was no way I was waiting around for that. To be fair, I deserved his hatred and he deserved his revenge, but I was too much of a coward to stick around and wait for him to come to me. I was tired of being a victim. If Brandt wanted to waste his time and energy trying to find me that was his prerogative, but I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I wanted my happy ever after, and once upon a time Brandt might have been that, but he certainly wasn't now. He would be after my blood, and more than that, he'd want to spill it. Five years ago I put him behind bars and didn't even watch as the judge served him up a ten-year sentence. Good behaviour had meant he'd only served half of that, but five years was a long time to rot in hell. I should know.

  Rubbing furiously at my tears, I dashed them away with two hands in an attempt to put the past behind me. Who was I kidding anyway? Brandt had never looked twice at me. That happy ever after had only been in my head. Rich kids don't look twice at poor trash, and that's all I had ever been; something to ignore or sweep under the carpet. He'd already been lined up with a bride back then, and she'd come from old money, too. Money marries money, or was that nobility marries money? Who the hell cared? It was just another reason he'd hate me. I wondered if Helena Foster-Lyle was still waiting for him. Think of something else, I told myself sternly.

  The walk back to my apartment in Beckton was swift. You didn't hang around in London. You walked everywhere with purpose and didn't look behind you. I'd learned through experience never to carry a handbag, and the clothes I wore were drab and unremarkable. It was almost as if I was trying to blend into the scenery. Having spent so many years trying hard not to be noticed, disappearing into the English countryside should be a snap. Beckton and I had something in common, though. Once upon a time it had been a toxic spoil heap, but then Princess Diana came along and opened an artificial ski slope complete with a posh Swiss-style bar at its base. That was several years ago. Now it was rather bleak and derelict, which pretty much echoed the sentiment of my life at the moment. I needed my fairy godmother to come along and sprinkle a generous helping of fairy dust around. She'd need a skip load of the stuff to put right the mess I'd made of my life.

  Walking briskly up the ten flights of stairs to my one bedroom flat, I frowned when I saw the lift was out of order yet again. It didn't matter on my account. I had heart failure just thinking about getting stuck in one, but I knew my neighbour, Mrs Omerod, would barely be able to cope with the ridiculous hike. She was a month shy of her eightieth birthday, and her cane went everywhere she did. Mrs Omerod had been sweet to me these past few months. I had a feeling she'd known what I was going through, especially when she told me if I ever needed a place to stay, I could come and live with her. She'd almost made me cry with that offer of kindness - if only life was that simple. Sniffing, I'd taken her hand and thanked her profusely, but assured her that everything was fine. Everything was always fine. I knew the script well.

  The last two flights of stairs were always the killer for me. My heart would beat double-quick time and I'd start panting, but the fear that was usually there at the prospect of coming home had been absent these past few months. A new dread had settled in my stomach, and it loomed closer and closer.

  Think of something else. Anything else.

  I wasn't on the top floor of this dingy block of flats by choice. If I'd had my way I'd be down at the bottom, but those rentals didn't come cheap. The sorry fact of the matter was that I didn't have enough money to afford to stay in this hellhole, and I was going to be evicted in two weeks time if I didn't pay my rent. There was no money left to settle my bill, so I was packing my bags. The reasons were twofold. I was going to start a new life as someone else and hopefully bring a bit of good luck my way, and I was going to hide from Brandt. Did that make me a coward? Absolutely, but I'd deal with my troubled conscience later.

  Opening my front door I found three letters on the threadbare rug. One was another eviction notice, so I threw it straight in the bin. The second was a flyer for cavity wall insulation, so that went in the same place. The third was handwritten and filled me with terror. Swallowing tightly, I wondered if I should put it straight in the bin with the rest. My fingers wavered over the stained white plastic swing bin, unsure of what to do. Whatever was in that letter wasn't going to good news. I had no family to speak of, and whatever friends I had in the past had learnt not to bother contacting me. There was only one person this could be from, and that meant that nothing inside it was going to be pleasant. Throw it in the bin. He just wants to scare you. My hand dithered for a moment longer, but as much as I wanted to let that letter slip from my fingers, my conscience demanded that I read it. I owed him that much.

  Opening the letter with trembling fingers I found nothing more than a slip of white paper inside. It was barely four inches by two. It didn't need to be any bigger, though. There was only one short sentence written on it. In bold black marker, the words I'm coming stared back at me. The piece of paper dropped from my fingers and drifted featherlike to the floor. I had to blink several times to stop the tears from resurfacing. I'd always known this was going to happen. It wasn't as if this was a surprise.

  Get a grip and start packing, woman.

  There was no point taking the note to the police. I already knew that Brandt hadn't posted this while on the inside, and with my criminal record the cops would probably laugh in my face. I doubted the writing was even his own. He just wanted to scare
me. My heart bubbled up into my throat as I fought for air. 'You can escape this life,' I whispered to myself. 'You can reinvent yourself and forget all about Brandt. He'll lose interest if he can't find you.' The words were hollow, and I didn't believe them for a second.

  Walking numbly towards my bedroom I pulled out my flimsy holdall and began packing my meagre belongings. At least I would travel light. A couple of pairs of jeans went inside, with a few T-shirts and sweatshirts that had seen better days. A hairbrush, toothbrush, and some soap followed them. The only shoes I had were the sneakers on my feet. My packing was done. One less thing to worry about, huh?

  Heading back to the kitchen I took the kettle over to the sink, filled it up and slammed the switch down. I needed a cup of tea and a few minutes to decide where to go. My finances were limited. Wherever I went it wouldn't be far. I just had to hope it would be far enough.

  Chapter 2 - Brandt

  Laying back on my hard plastic mattress which was barely two inches thick, I thought about all the things I was going to do when I got out of this hole. A mere seven days separated me from purgatory and the outside world. Five years in prison might have been a relatively short spell when I began comparing my woes with the other inmates, but it seemed like an eternity in hell to me.

  If I'd committed the crime I'd been sent down for - well, that might have been different. But being imprisoned for something you hadn't actually done was a total mind fuck. For the first year my rage had been almost uncontrollable. The only thing that held me in check was the thought that I'd be inside even longer if I unleashed myself upon some of the bastards inside here. Wait, that wasn't strictly true. When I'd first ended up in here I was a one hundred and twenty-pound weakling who didn't pose much of a threat to anyone bar myself. Five years and a heck of a lot of gym work later, I was a solid wall of muscle and sinew. With any luck my huge bulk was going to scare the fuck out of Harper in a few days' time.

  Harper Wilkinson was the cause of most of my anger. That lying, filthy piece of trash had got off scot-free, while I took the rap for her crime. How in hell the woman could live with herself was beyond me, but as soon as I was out I was going to even up the score - my way. She'd taken five years from me, and I was going to steal five years from her; making her pay in every way imaginable.

  I'd always had an itch for the girl that I couldn't scratch. Back when we'd been at college she'd always had some guy hanging off her arm and drooling over her tits, so I'd kept my distance. Don't get me wrong - I looked - but knew better than to touch. Some of the bastards she hung around with were mean fuckers and I wasn't stupid enough to give them a reason to hurt me. Harper and I had been friends though, or so I'd thought. When she'd popped round to my dorm one day and asked if I'd help move a couch for her I'd happily agreed. The next thing I knew I was having ten years of my life chopped off. I still had no idea why. Had it been a game to her? Had it been a dare to get the little rich kid into a whole shitload of trouble? I was about to find out. I was going to find her, follow her, fuck her, and fucking forget her - but not until those five years were up. Her ass was mine, and I was going to put that delectable little package to good use. After a week of her crawling around on her knees and sucking my cock I might feel a bit better. After a month of paddling her sorry ass and handcuffing her arms and legs to my bed I might sleep a little better too. We'd see. But she'd get what was coming to her, and she'd pay in tears and blood. I had.

  I wondered if she'd look the same as I remembered. Five years is a long time. I should know. Would she be the same little firecracker I remembered? Bright chestnut curls, sassy red lips, and long lithe limbs came to mind. My mother would have had a fit if I'd brought her home. White trash, she'd have called her. Still, I didn't have to worry about my mother any more. She'd already disowned me, along with my father. Oh, they hadn't said it outright, and nor had they cut me off, but they made it very apparent they wanted nothing more to do with me. When I got out I was to stand on my own two feet somewhere very far away and be careful not to put a foot out of line. If I did the money would disappear. Fuck the money. I didn't need it, and I didn't need them. Whatever I used when I got out of this joint, I would pay back and deliver to their doorstep. Being the black sheep of the family did come with some benefits though. I wouldn't be expected to marry the stuck-up heiress my mother had planned for me. My criminal record would see to that. Considering the woman looked like the back end of a bus, Harper had done me a favour in that regard. But I still wasn't about to forgive her any time soon.

  And there was another bonus to getting my hands on Harper. I've always had a dark streak in me half a mile wide. I've tried to curb it, for the sake of my parents, but I'm as kinky as fuck in the bedroom, and I'm damned if I'm going to live my life with some vanilla socialite before I've acted out nearly every one of my sordid fantasies. Harper had all of them to look forward to too, and let me tell you my mind is a twisted place. The woman had better fucking brace herself.

  They weren't my only plans though. After I cut myself off from my parents I'd need to find a decent job and start building my own empire. I had ambition and lots of it. I didn't want anyone's help to get where I was going, and I intended to make it on my own. Victory would be mine and revenge, well, that was going to be sweet, in a dark, twisted and tortured kind of way.

  My thoughts turned in a different direction. Now, how did I go about finding Harper? Liam would have delivered my little note by now, so I was sure she would run. But she couldn't run anywhere that I wouldn't find her. I wanted her to know that she could run to the ends of the earth and never escape my crushing grip. I needed to see the light slip from her eyes as she realised she'd never be free of me unless I chose to let her go. Most of all, though, I sought to destroy her. She would feel every humiliation I'd been forced to endure, and any more that I could think up. I wanted her to know how it felt to be imprisoned, helpless and at the whim of another. Putting a single foot wrong in prison could mean the difference between life and death. While I didn't intend to kill her she didn't have to know that. She'd toyed with my life, and now it was my turn to repay the favour. I hoped she enjoyed the experience just as much as I did. The woman was in for quite a ride.

  Before I could get lost in my thoughts the door to my cell unlocked. I knew without looking that the time would be exactly five-fifteen and that most of the other inmates wouldn't be stirring for a little while yet. I liked to get myself down the chow hall as early as possible, avoiding as many nasties as I could. The plain oatmeal they served wasn't worth getting excited about, but it was a fuel my body needed if I wanted to work out in the gym later. Just seven more days of oatmeal, milk, broth, and bread; I could already taste my freedom in the shape of a McDonald's hamburger. There were so many things I had missed. Bacon, decent cheese, steak, chocolate cookies, and lemon meringue pie were the tip of the iceberg. We were served roughly the same food over and over again each week. Having your freedom taken away was depressing, but having every little item of your life dictated to you was soul destroying.

  It struck me as somewhat ironic that I entered prison utterly innocent of any wrongdoing, and yet as soon as I got out I immediately intended to commit a crime. Life worked in mysterious ways. Revenge was the only thing I lived for. Well, that and the need to get out of here as soon as possible and preferably in one piece. I'd had my dark days, that was for sure.

  Walking quickly down the concrete corridor, I wondered how long it would take Harper to obey my every word. Would she fight me or would she immediately become my little lapdog to abuse and torment? I hoped it would be the former. If she played by the rules from the beginning I'd almost be disappointed, but if she came biting, kicking and screaming, well I had ways of dealing with that. Time would tell.

  Picking up my plastic breakfast tray I waited in line for the slop to fall with a smile on my face. It was a first.

  Chapter 3 - Harper

  I had one hundred and seventy-two pounds to my name and an old debit card
that was already well into its overdraft limit. That was it. That was the sum total of what my life was worth at the moment - if you didn't count the rent arrears, of course. Where was I going to go with that? I didn't have a clue. All I knew was that I wasn't going to be able to go very far. Even a cheap bed and breakfast would be twenty pounds a night, so I was going to have to hope I found a job pretty quickly. I suspected I'd still have to spend a few nights sleeping rough unless I was very lucky. The thought scared me. Hell, right now everything scared me.

  Hitchhiking was going to be my next disaster. Yes, it was a stupid idea, but seriously, what choice did I have? I could hitchhike and let fate have some fun with me, or I could wait to be evicted and greet Brandt with a cheery smile and open arms. I shuddered. There was no money and food was more important; it was a risk I had to take.

  I'm coming. What did that even mean? I'm coming to kill you? I'm coming to slap you about a bit? Pain I could deal with, but I didn't want to die just yet. Struggling up the street, dragging my holdall with its one busted wheel, I didn't dwell on the thought. I just needed to concentrate on staying alive.

  It was a twenty-minute walk down to the A1020, where I thought I stood as good a chance as any of hitching a ride. I didn't care where I was going, as long as it was at least an hour or two's drive away. One part of me wondered whether I should wait and just let Brandt take me. Could my life get any worse than it was already? Brandt was a reasonable guy, right? Uh yeah, he might have been before I put him in prison for a crime he didn't commit. There was a good chance he was all kinds of fucked up now. So, running and hiding was the way forward. I had no idea how long I would be able to stay under the radar, but I intended to give it my best shot. While I owed Brandt a rather large apology, I didn't owe him my body or my life. He'd want at least one of them, maybe both.