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  Scorned

  (A Torn Series)

  Pamela Ann

  Scorned

  Pamela Ann

  Copyright © 2013, By Pamela Ann

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Editing by:

  Kristin and Alizon

  Cover design by:

  Melissa Gill@mgbookcovers

  Acknowledgments

  To my beta readers, Cami Hesnault, Kimberly Harris, Beck Sewell and Tia Marie, writing this book wouldn’t have been the same without all your opinions and awesome discussions. Melissa Gill, you’re my life saver—‘nuff said.

  Kirstie Hicks, Josie Melendez, Ashley Suzanne, you ladies rock!

  To the ladies at Chasing Bassphemous, I heart you all.

  To my editors, Kristin and Alizon, thank you, ladies.

  And to my family, thank you for everything.

  Playlist

  Songs I listened to whilst writing the novel:

  Enrique Iglesias Ft. Nicole Scherzinger Heartbeat

  John Mayer Gravity

  Fiona Apple First Taste

  Justin Timberlake What Comes Around

  Michael Bublè Me and Mrs. Jones

  Lifehouse Everything

  Mogwai Take Me Somewhere Nice

  Michael Buble Always On My Mind

  Leona Lewis Bleeding Love

  Nelly Furtado FT. James Morrison Broken Strings

  Maroon 5 Beautiful Goodbye

  Tricky Overcome

  Adele Turning Tables

  All Saints Never Ever

  Boyce Avenue Without You

  The Corrs One Night

  No Doubt Hella Good

  Pretty Reckless You Make Me Wanna Die

  “Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.

  Life is beauty, admire it.

  Life is a dream, realize it.

  Life is a challenge, meet it.

  Life is a duty, complete it.

  Life is a game, play it.

  Life is a promise, fulfill it.

  Life is sorrow, overcome it.

  Life is a song, sing it.

  Life is a struggle, accept it.

  Life is a tragedy, confront it.

  Life is an adventure, dare it.

  Life is luck, make it.

  Life is too precious, do not destroy it.

  Life is life, fight for it.”

  - Mother Theresa

  Prologue

  I wasn’t a woman who minced words to soothe another person. Nor was I one to change my mind once I had placed a person in my “trash” bin.

  People have described me as bitchy, stuck-up, scary, hot and crazy vindictive. Do I care? Ha. Yeah, right.

  Wealth, beauty and all the attention I could ever want were showered on me at a very young age, but one thing was missing; love. Where do I even begin with that complex word?

  Love led my father to his demise.

  Love made me ache for my mother’s non-existent emotion towards us, her family.

  Love ruined me for the male species.

  It didn’t take long, though, to discover the power of beauty and sex. I got my euphoric highs from making men suffer—may it be emotional, mental, physical. Blue balls anyone?

  It was all about validation. Needing to prove a point that I held the power, that no one could come close to hurting me any longer. I was excellent at it. I was my own master. What else could be better than that?

  Yet, once again, Mister Cupid had a perverse way to scramble my very guarded personal life.

  Would I let fate choose for me? Or should I fight it tooth and nail as I’d done in the past?

  "If she's amazing, she won't be easy. If she's easy, she won't be amazing. If she's with it, you won't give-up. If you give up, you're not worthy. Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for."

  - Bob Marley

  Chapter 1

  A month ago, Taylor’s Party

  I was leaning against a tree, gazing at the garden’s miniature falls that connected to the fountains, lost in thought… with dread and fear accompanied by damning memories, when I heard someone approach my direction.

  “Dance with me, pookie,” someone said behind me.

  Brody.

  Ever since he found me crying when my nanny, Esmeralda, left, due to her mother being sick, he continued using the pet name she called me. Pookie was an endearment in Spanish.

  “You really need to stop calling me that. I’m not six,” I nonchalantly voiced out without gazing back at him.

  I heard him move close to my back, making me conscious of his body’s heat. Persistence thy name was Brody. For all the years I’d known him, he had rarely backed down.

  “You’re very edgy tonight. Feel like talking about it? I’m all ears.”

  Like that was going to happen. “I’m fine. I just want to be alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why do you always do this the day after you sleep with me? Is that all I’m ever going to be to you? Someone on your speed dial to scratch the itch?” Brody sounded a little angry.

  However, I didn’t care. Not tonight. Knowing the crap was going to rain down on me very soon. “Seriously, Brody, this is not the time nor the place to discuss this.” Really. If I could hide here forever, I would.

  “For the past year, you’ve had the same line. You’ve paraded men right in front of me while I watch in vain, but I’ve endured all of that because I know, deep down, you love me; you always have. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? Just tell me how long I have to wait for you, Lindsey.”

  Was there anyone in this fucking city who didn’t know I was in love with him? I studied the man who meant so much to me, knowing that I had no answer for him. This man that was six feet of tightly packed muscles, killer smile and dark eyes with an uncanny resemblance to a young Pierce Brosnan.

  Brody, ever since I was a child, had been my idol. I had followed him everywhere, thinking he was God. At ten-years-old, I blurted out that I loved him after he tasted the cookie I made, saying that they were delicious because I made them. Of course, my brother, Carter, spit them in the sink after the first bite, whining that they were too salty and hard. That wasn’t the only time I told him that I loved him. Through the years, I would randomly tell him. Each time, he would just give me a smile and tell me, “That’s very sweet of you, Lindsey.”

  That love turned into loathing the second I found out Cece slept with him behind my back during freshmen year. Brody, along with Carter, were very popular with the girls and those two never had any problem getting what they wanted.

  Upon learning about this, I ended my friendship with Cece and tried to end my feelings for Brody as well. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be easy, even after years of trying. Accepting that it was never going to go away, I learned the art of impassiveness instead.

  Deep inside, I knew that I was still reeling, but that love was now mixed with hate, affliction and scorn. Still, every time Brody was around, every time he greeted me after learning about Cece, he was still sweet and polite towards me—after my giving him death stares and all—the man still tried.

  For the rest o
f my freshmen year, I did not speak a word to him. Of course, he tried to make amends. He would insert small post-its in my locker with messages like, “Have a good day, pookie”, “Miss you, pookie”, “I miss seeing your smiles”. These messages changed during sophomore year, though. Monday to Friday, for the rest of that year held only one message, “I’m sorry.”

  I was simply done.

  The memory was too ingrained in my mind, the hurt still too fresh. So what did a young, impressionable girl like me do when they’re heartbroken? Party, of course.

  When junior year came, I spent all that time partying and making out with boys. When senior year rolled in, I changed my wardrobe and used whatever I could for my advantage. I realized that a woman’s look could be used as a tool to get what they wanted.

  My childhood friend, Amber, provided our fake I.D’s. So the three of us, Amber, Trista and me, partied in Hollywood almost every night. I even lost my virginity in the back of Range Rover in the club’s parking lot. The man’s name I could barely recall. Yep, it took me that long to lose my virginity… because I only wanted Brody to have it. Losing the v-card to a stranger was a major sign of my concealed hatred for him.

  I turned into a cold hearted, vindictive, aggressive woman and I loved it that way. I felt in control instead of a slave to my emotions.

  This frozen state started to waver when everyone found out that I was sleeping with one of Carter’s friends, Cooper, last year. Brody sought me the night he found out, breathing fire as he yelled at me for sleeping with his friend. I didn’t know what had happened, but after all the yelling, he ended with kissing me. And, my God, that kiss—his kiss—it was even better than what I had dreamed of all my life. My love for him resurfaced, hate and loathing were nowhere to be found. He basically consumed me on the spot, matching his fire with mine.

  I ended up sleeping with him that night, a year ago, leaving his bed the second he knocked out.

  Brody has been chasing me ever since.

  “Why do you do this to yourself?” I murmured, wondering why he hadn’t given up.

  “You know why,” Brody murmured, pulling me against him as he wrapped his arms around my hips.

  I did know, but it wasn’t enough anymore. So much had happened. My love for him was tainted. He betrayed that love years ago, knowing quite well what it would do to me.

  “Let me hold you. Dance with me?”

  Sighing, I finally conceded. I hated and loved when he turned that soft and husky voice on. I always had a hard time resisting him when he used it. “Fine. One dance.”

  “Thank you.” Brody spun me around and gave me a quick kiss before leading me to the swimming pool that was glassed over to use as a dance floor.

  Wrapped in Brody’s embrace, I was about to say something when a voice interrupted us.

  “I finally get to see you again, i̱ gynaíka mou.”

  I stilled, knowing quite well what that meant. FUCK. Gaining every bitchy fiber in me, I spun around and faced my estranged husband. “Dimitris, do you need something?”

  Bright blue eyes pinned me on the spot, awash with anger, amongst other things. “You know damn well that I do. Unless you want to discuss it out here.” The Greek raised his ebony brows at me with words that held threat. Those pull-you-in eyes drew me in, feeling beyond nostalgic as memories ran riot in my head.

  This man had some sort of power that always made me feel… off, like a switch. When he’s around, it high-jacked my existence, but when he wasn’t, I was normal again. As I emphasized earlier, I felt that off button ready to shift me into a hapless woman.

  The thought of being in that vexing state made me spin around to face Brody, who was still holding my hip quite possessively, before giving him a reassured smile. “I have a quick business chat to attend to. I’ll be back.”

  Brody gave me a chaste kiss before he whispered, “Be safe. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him a quick hug before I strutted past Dimitris, straight indoors and inside the room that my friend allotted for me to use tonight. I didn’t need to check if the Greek was following me because I just knew he was. I could feel those amazing eyes on me, watching my hips sway, admiring my backside.

  Secured in one of the guest rooms, I strode towards the windows, staring out it absentmindedly, not wanting to face him. It took us a good five minutes until someone finally decided to break the silence.

  It sure wasn’t me.

  “I have the divorce papers with me. Tell me your address and I will drop them off tomorrow,” Dimitris delivered with ease, not pausing to give me a moment to breathe.

  We were all staying here tonight, but with the divorce papers, I couldn’t risk anyone seeing them. As far as I was concerned, no one knew about this secret marriage and I wanted to keep it that way. “I’m staying at The Chateau Marmont. You can drop them off there in the morning. How long does it take until we’re divorced?”

  I could hear him move a little closer to me. “It’s Greece, so it can vary, but with my influence, I can probably have it done in six to eight weeks. My lawyers are working overtime to make things possible.”

  I’m sure they were. A demand from a Kosta was not taken lightly back in his homeland.

  My feelings for Brody I could easily control, but when it came to Dimitris, my body took over like it was under a spell and I had a hard time remembering things. Lust, hard-exorbitant-potent lust was what I had with this man. From the first moment I met him, I spent the first night in his bed and never left it until he made me his wife. He was demanding, caring, took care of everything, but most of all, he declared his love for me—which was a refreshing novelty, especially knowing he was a playboy. It was an odd mix, but one I enjoyed very much.

  After that first night with him, I was taken aback when I received his hundred percent attention so the next day, I Googled his love life and looked at his dating records. Fair enough, the guy didn’t last long in relationships. Since I wasn’t ready for any kind of “relationship”, I thought Dimitris was a safe bet to have some good fun with while on vacation. After a week, instead of slowing down as I expected it to, he became more attentive, always wanting to be with me.

  Shit hit the fan when he proposed to me on the club dance floor while we were both drunk, laughing and making out all night. Since I was deliriously happy, intoxicated and never having felt freer in my life, I accepted, like a moron, without thinking. I have no clue how he pulled it off, but in less than forty-eight hours, I was his wife.

  The horror of what I’d truly done didn’t settle until a few days before I was bound to go back home. He was talking about me moving to Greece, telling my family, talking to my brother and having a family of our own. Right, like moving to another country was plausible, not. I decided to lay it out for him then, saying that it was over and that I didn’t want to be married. I couldn’t be sure what I’d told him since things progressed very quickly then, but I knew I aimed to hurt and I thought I had, until he showed up a week later and saw Brody.

  My thoughts halted when he moved to my side, studying my face, almost caressing it before his features hardened, cold as ice. “That was the guy in your bed before me?” he questioned, showing no emotions.

  Of course he’d remember. Nodding, I answered him, “Yes. That’s him.”

  He arched that ebony brow of his again, eyes radiating with contempt. “You’ve stayed with him this long, yet you couldn’t wait to get away from me a month later? Tell me, were you involved with him when you married me in Greece?”

  When a person gets into sticky situations such as these, it usually gives you a second to respond to sound sincere instead of a big fat liar. The urge to lie was on the tip of my tongue, almost spilling out before I took a stance and decided to tell him the truth. “I grew up with Brody. We had a sexual relationship, but I ended it before I left for Greece.”

  Dimitris snickered, looking like… a good wet dream. “How convenient. Did you also merely happen to slide ba
ck into this relationship the second you get off the plane, married to another man and all?”

  He was so strikingly beautiful; it was somehow hard to look at him without having a mini heart attack. “We ended things before I left, Dimitris.” I tried to stay calm, but it was impossible to achieve that kind of façade. I scolded myself, telling my brain that he was in a relationship with Claudine, but my body seemed to have missed the message.

  Something erupted from him. “Damn you! You know well enough that it was far from over, Lindsey! I fucking loved you! I married you for crying out loud!” He inched into my face, roaring his words out.

  For the entire time I spent with him, even when I broke things off, I had never seen him this angry. It hurt, I wasn’t going to lie; however this was the best for the both of us. “I told you I didn’t do love, but you didn’t care and went ahead with it.”

  “You did, I remember… but when you’re with me…” he paused, looking away, “you looked like you did, though. When you kissed me, it felt like you did. I cannot believe I was wrong all along. I wanted only to see what I needed to see.”

  This confrontation was killing me inside, but I knew we needed one before we signed those papers. A closure before we put this hellish predicament behind us.

  His eyes were on me, possibly waiting for me to deny or declare something, yet I wasn’t going to give him anything. I had nothing to give, to him or any man.

  “Are you in love with him?” Dimitris spat out with an accusing tone.

  You had no idea, did you? My mind mocked. “All my life,” I whispered, knowing that this was something I’d accepted.

  Dimitris gave a nod, as if understanding it all. “I was just a distraction, sadly.” His strong voice from a few minutes ago was gone. He sounded thoughtful, sad. “Thank you for clearing that up. At least, now, I can move forward without doubts holding me back, thinking things like what had I done wrong with you or if there was something I could’ve done to make you come back. I didn’t realize that I had already lost before I had even began.”