Mind (Trinity Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  Mind

  Trinity Trilogy - Book 2

  By Audrey Carlan

  Text copyright © 2014 Audrey Carlan

  ISBN Electronic

  ISBN-10: 0-9909143-2-1

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9909143-2-7

  Print ISBN

  ISBN-10: 0-9909143-3-X

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9909143-3-4

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic format without expressed permission by the author.

  Dedication

  To Dyani Gingerich, Nikki Chiverrell, and Carolyn Beasley

  My beautiful soul sisters.

  You will always be a part of my past,

  an amazing part of my present,

  and forever in my future.

  Thank you for being such an important part of this trilogy.

  I’ll always love you more.

  BESOS

  Bound - Eternally - Sisters - of - Souls

  Chapter 1

  Gillian

  Turns out that the moment the paparazzi find out you have taken one of United States’ most eligible bachelors off the market, you also become famous. Unfortunately. It was not something I had ever considered would be a part of my reality when I agreed to marry Chase Davis. No, seeing my face splashed across countless magazines was not high on my list of life achievements. Worse is what comes with that fame. The backlash. I’ve been labeled everything from a gold digger to the first of many wives Chase is sure to have. One woman couldn’t possibly keep a billionaire business tycoon like Chase Davis fulfilled. Surely, he’d need a truckload of harlots to do that job.

  “Check this one out.” My best friend and soon-to-be ex-roommate, Maria, laughs behind her hand while flipping through the most recent smut magazine. “’Triple B, Big Business Billionaire Chase Davis to wed Triple D Toting Gillian Callahan’.”

  “What!” I screech. “Let me see that.” Maria tosses the magazine at me over the mountain of moving boxes. Scanning the page, I see Chase with his arm around me, possessively gripping my hip. He’s devastatingly beautiful even in a candid paparazzi shot like this. It was taken at a charity ball we’d recently attended. Only the image clearly shows me with a digitally enlarged bust at least twice the size of what God Himself gave me. Internally, I seethe. “They made my boobs huge!”

  Maria laughs, and I toss the trash back at her, whacking her in the head with it. “¡Puta!” She calls me a bitch in Spanish.

  “I’m just so tired of the garbage being written about me. I try not to read it. Chase ignores it completely. If only it was that easy.” A long overdue sigh escapes my lungs as I place more books into a box already overloaded with books.

  “Cara bonita, you cannot let strangers make you feel like shit. You’re better than that.” She punctuates her statement with a tug on my ponytail. “Oh, the Kama Sutra. That book is mine!” Her long fingers rip it from the stack I was going through. “Heaven forbid I accidentally steal your sex book.” I roll my eyes and stick out my tongue.

  She ignores me and shimmies over to the kitchen. “You know what this party needs? More bitches and vino! Ohhhh...and pizza!” Lightning fast, she’s on the phone dialing. One of our girls must have answered right away, because she doesn’t say hello and starts right in on what she wants. “Why are you not here helping your best friends move puta perezosa! ... Yes, I just called you a lazy bitch. Get off Carson’s polla, and get your culo over here to help us.” She hangs up without so much as a goodbye.

  “Did you just tell Kat to get off Carson’s dick?” I giggle.

  “Yes, as a matter fact, I did. Next, Bree.” She dials quickly and waits, drumming her fingers on the kitchen counter. While she waits, she stretches one long dancer’s leg out behind her then crooks it up and grabs her ankle. With one arm, she pulls it up the back of her body. She looks like a contorted ballerina or a pretzel. It’s awe-inspiring. She brings the leg down to the ground gracefully. “Do you have a class?” Maria asks sweetly into the receiver. Too nice for our Italian-Spanish fireball. Poor Bree. She doesn’t even know what’s about to hit her.

  Maria continues. “No?” She waits a moment. Then her scathing, mean girl voice barks into the phone. “Get your flexible, tiny culo over here and help your hermanas pack their shit. And don’t even try to pull an excuse that you’re spending time with Phillip.” Maria pauses and listens for a moment. “¡Mierda! We all know your va-jay-jay hasn’t seen any action in months. Bring wine.” She hangs up.

  Laughter bubbles up my throat and spills out in a combination between snorting and trying to catch my breath. God, this woman is good for me. She knows exactly how to make life seem lighter, removing the heavy spotlight I’ve been under since my engagement to Chase was announced last week. Over that hurdle, we are still no closer to finding my stalker. When the announcement of our impending nuptials was released, we were inundated with congratulatory flowers. But one person sent a couple dozen dead roses with a card. Those words still give me chills.

  Gillian,

  Worst decision you ever made. Mark my words.

  You’re mine… Bitch.

  Remembering those words sends chills skittering down my spine to settle sourly in my gut. Gooseflesh prickles along my skin, and I take a deep breath. A few rounds of yoga style breathing and I’m able to banish the negative and fill my head with positive thoughts. Chase. My fiancé. The band of diamonds around my finger catches the light, twinkling, reminding me what I have to look forward to. A life with the man of my dreams.

  The ping of my cellphone brings me back to the present. I grab it off the table and check the display. Instant happiness fills me as I see Chase’s name.

  From: Chase Davis

  To: Gillian Callahan

  Maria’s condo is ready when she is. The sooner the better. I want you and your crazy sister safe.

  “Ria, Chase says your condo’s ready!” I holler while typing a thank you message back to my love.

  She squeals with glee and dances a jig in the middle of our tiny kitchen. It’s funnier because she’s in the tiniest pair of booty shorts, and a sports bra that makes her overly large breasts bounce in a graphically vulgar display.

  “Damn sister! Put those things away. You might poke an eye out,” I laugh and she grins wickedly.

  “It’s really cool that Chase scored me a condo within walking distance to your penthouse. It’s weird though; he won’t discuss the dinero.” I cringe and bite my lip. “What? It’s gonna be rent-controlled, right?” She stomps her foot defiantly. “You promised it would be rent-controlled. I’m not living with another crazy chica. And by God, I will not move in with Tommy even though he won’t let the idea go.” She grumbles.

  “No, it’s not going to be costly at all.” I try to sound vague but she gives me the side-eye, cocking a perfectly sculpted ebony eyebrow. I hate that she can do that. It’s annoyingly cool.

  “And how much will I be paying monthly, Mrs. Davis?” She uses my soon-to-be last name in a sickeningly saccharine-sweet voice. Not a good sign. When Maria starts using a sweet tone, it usually means the bear with giant claws is just around the corner and ready for a sneak attack.

  “Um, less than your half here actually,” I supply hoping she’ll just wait and push Chase about the issue.

  She leans a delicate hip against the island, cocks her head to the side, and purses her lips into a fake smile. “How much less, bonita? ¿Cien? ¿Doscientos?”

  “Uh, probably less.” I jump up pushing the fully loaded box of books in the corner with my foot. Pretending to ignore her, I work to close the box and label which house it’s going to. This one’s going to the penthouse.

&nbs
p; “¿Cuatro? How much, Gigi?” she doesn’t take her hand off her hip.

  Scrunching up my face, I mumble, “Nothing,” as quickly as possible and jet into the kitchen to find the wine. Suddenly, I’m parched. “So thirsty. Where’d we pack the wine again?” I try to change the subject. A cold hand grips my arm and twirls me around.

  “¿Nada? As in, no dollars. Gratis? Free?” her tone is reaching a high, piercing pitch—the one that makes my teeth rattle.

  I nod. “Don’t be mad. Please? It’s Chase. He won’t take your money. Not when he has more money than God...and even Oprah!”

  Maria shakes her head back and forth. “Bonita, this isn’t going to work. I do not take handouts.”

  I grab her biceps, and she flinches. We both have that reaction when manhandled. It’s just the leftover bonus from years of being physically abused. “I know, I know. I get it. I do. But, it’s Chase, and he’s so bossy. When I try to argue, he uses his sexy-as-sin body against me. Literally, against me!”

  She turns her head to the side and puts a hand to her mouth making a lame attempt at holding back her snicker. “Really?”

  Nodding, I explain that we had this very same conversation. I told Chase that Maria would never take a handout. A handful of orgasms laterand he had seduced me into promising I’d get her to agree. By the end of my story, Maria is on the floor flailing around as if she’s been zapped by a Taser. Which may actually happen if she doesn’t stop making fun of me. That’s another new addition to my everyday life. I now carry around a brush, lipstick, my GPS-tracked phone, wallet, and a handy dandy Taser, the phone and Taser courtesy of my control freak fiancé. Of course, those items are in the event that the six-foot-tall bodyguard I lovingly refer to as “Rambo” is taken out by some force of nature or is otherwise detained.

  Maria is still on the floor howling.

  “Cut it out, Ria. You have no idea what that man can do to me sexually. He could make a nun come without even touching her!”

  “Really? Do tell?” I jump at least a foot in the air in surprise. Kat snickers behind me while Maria continues to suck in air and fails to control her laughter. We should have never given these women their own keys.

  “Jesus, Kat. What the hell? You scared me. This stalker crap has me on edge already.” I chastise her in a lame attempt to make her feel guilty.

  “Sounds like a tall, dark, and handsome fella has you on edge more often than the stalker. Am I right, sister?” Maria jumps up like a bird in flight and high-fives Kat. Stupid dancer agility. Most of the time, I feel tall and gangly. Only Chase makes me feel like a sexy vixen. My blonde besties are all really graceful, too. Maria though, she can jump around like a modern day ninja when center stage, but finds everyday walking a challenge. The girl trips over cracks in the sidewalk, even the ones that are blatantly obvious.

  “¡Perfecto!” Maria agrees and grabs the two bottles of wine Kat is holding in one hand. “¡Gracias!”

  “Tell me more about how Chase manipulates you into doing whatever he wants?” Kat’s evil grin spreads across her pretty features. Caramel-colored eyes sparkle with mirth as she leans on the kitchen island. The bangles on her left arm tinkle like a wind chime blowing in a cool breeze as she stares me down.

  “God, you two are incorrigible.” Squinting at Kat, I give her my best glare. It doesn’t work.

  “Why are they incorrigible?” Bree saunters into the kitchen, pizza in one hand, wine in the other. Her golden hair falls in a perfectly flat sheet down her back. When she enters a room, it’s like opening a window and being surrounded by a breath of fresh air.

  Maria claps happily and relieves Bree of the pie.

  “All veggie, super thin crust, and red sauce not that creamy garlic fattening crap!” she scolds.

  Maria raises her hand in a one-finger salute as she takes the pie to get some plates, effectively telling her what she thinks about Bree’s health-fanatic ways.

  Kat and I stand shoulder-to-shoulder and give her an unimpressed look. “What? No need to go overboard on carbs and fat when you can drink your calories instead.” She smiles and holds up the red Pinot Noir we all adore, aptly named Soul Sisters. We’ve all had better wines. Hell, the wine Chase serves me could make anyone weep with joy, but the four of us appreciate the symbolism. At a cool twelve bucks a bottle, the price tag doesn’t hurt, either. It’s also unique because it’s made by Save Me San Francisco Wine Company where we live and it’s owned by the band Train. Wine with a cool backstory like that, gives it an even higher appeal.

  Bree pulls up her red chair and plops down pulling her knee up and hugging it close. She’s wearing leggings, an oversized shirt, and Ugg boots. She calls it casual elegance. I call it pajamas. The four of us have very different opinions on clothing. They think I prefer to look stuck-up in tailored suits and skirts. Really, the goal is to look unapproachable and professional. Besides, I love a bargain basement label find. Regretfully, it hits me that even that will change once I marry Richie Rich.

  Chase has recently made it clear he’s replacing my entire wardrobe. At first, it bothered me that he has an opinion on what I wear, but seeing his excitement when he spoke with his assistant about what he wants purchased only made me feel loved, cared for...special. It’s not the money or the clothing that sold me on the idea; it’s that Chase wants to make me feel connected to him in all things. He specifically requested that his assistant, Dana—whom I’m trying very hard not to be jealous of—purchase items that would match or pair well with items he already has. I like the idea that we’d present a united front at different events, especially with my newfound and unwanted fame. The last thing I want is to embarrass Chase. He repeatedly tells me that I could wear a paper sack and he’d be proud to have me on his arm, but I know differently. The man likes luxury. A lot.

  Chase is a certified clothing snob. Not only does he never wear anything off the rack, he has every suit tailored to fit his finely toned form. Like me, his desire to come off perfectly in order is part of what draws me to him. Only I get to see the real Chase, the one with all of the layers removed, metaphorically and physically.

  Unfortunately, though, I haven’t been able to convince him that I’m not going to run. As much as I believe in my desire to stay with him and be his wife, it still scares the living hell out of me. Committing to one man, giving him the power to make decisions about my life, is frightening. It’s one of the reasons why I told Chase we needed to wait a year, but not the biggest. For the past week, he’s been hinting that he’d like to shorten that timeframe considerably. Originally, when he proposed, he wanted to elope, as in, get married the very next day. The thought definitely had merit. However, something inside me still wants the fairytale. I’ve got the knight in shining Armani, and now I want the fairytale wedding. Nothing huge or audacious. Just his family, our friends, my girls, Phillip, and little Anabelle. I’d love to see her in a matching gown tossing petals into the air.

  “Still thinking about all the convincing Chase does to get you to do things?” Maria laughs, and I firmly ignore her.

  “Hey Bree, do you think Phil would walk me down the aisle?” I push back the tendril of red hair that fell out of my hair tie.

  Bree’s face lights up. Damn, the woman is beautiful. She has an effervescent quality about her. Skin flawless and tanned naturally, big blue eyes, and a perfect Roman nose that’s tipped just at the end. “I think he’d be honored. Really. And Anabelle would be the flower girl, right?”

  I nod emphatically. “And of course all three of my sisters must be in the bridal party.” They nod happily.

  “I still can’t believe he asked you so quickly. I mean, a few months seems like a short amount of time.” Her lips twist into a thoughtful gesture. “Not that I’m saying he doesn’t mean it or anything, it’s just, why the rush?” She takes a sip of her wine.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I take the wine glass Maria holds out for me. The blend of cherries, plums, and blackberries explodes over my taste buds. “Honestly,
when you know, you just know. He’s it for me. There’s really no reason to wait.”

  Maria and Kat both nod. Bree bites her lips then tugs on her hair, twining a golden piece around her finger. She’s holding something back. Fidgeting is one of her tells. Apparently, she’s trying not to give her opinion.

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Bree, something to add?”

  “Uh, nuh-uh.” She shakes her head and takes a bite of pizza. Stuffing her face isn’t going to get her off the hook that easily. It’s obvious she has something to say, and I want to know what it is.

  “Out with it. And don’t lie to me. You know I have radar on liars.”

  She rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Fine. If you know he’s it, then why the yearlong engagement?”

  Her question digs uninvited through my subconscious. Instinctively, I know the answer, but I don’t want to open that wound. It’s not that I don’t believe he isn’t the one for me. My heart beats for Chase. His presence permeates the air around me at all times. When he’s not with me, I feel him. Habitually, my thumb rubs the solid weight of his love encircling my finger, spinning it around and around.

  “Sometimes you just want the time to allow yourselves to be sure. As Kat said, he asked me very quickly. I don’t want him to regret that decision later.” All three of the most important women in my life look at me as if I’ve grown horns, their eyes as wide as saucers. “We’ve been under a lot of stress,” I add defensively. “Between almost losing my job, the return of The Bitch, and now my stalker...” I shake my head and let the words fall off knowing there is a lot of truth to them, but it’s not the whole truth. If I’m honest with myself, I need to give Chase the time to make sure it’s me he wants forever. Damaged, scarred, Gillian Callahan.

  “Gigi, you can’t be serious? You’re waiting to marry Chase because you want to give him the chance to bail?” Kat asks in shock.