A Borrowed Life (Carly and Liam #1) (19 page)

“That’s what I'm going to do!”

I get up and go to my room while the guys resume their movie. It's only been five minutes since the DVD started playing and I can already hear the explosions. I spend a whole hour talking with my best friend. She doesn't know my past with my fifth adoptive father, but that’s not what I want her opinion on.

I hang up and fall asleep on her words.

“Carly, if you love him, don't let your fears keep you from living what would surely be the most beautiful love story of your life. You're right, a million things could go wrong, but you can't keep all the good things from happening simply because they might end badly some day. All I can tell you is that I know you, and you will regret not giving it a try, but you will never regret trying and getting burned.”

I think I mostly fear a broken heart. But I feel I will be heartbroken regardless.

It's eleven thirty when the last customer leaves the restaurant and I can finally go home.

“It’s rather cool out tonight,” Bailey reminds me, putting his coat on in the staff room.

“So I’ve heard. But I didn't take my jacket with me.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’ll be alright. I live only about ten minutes from here.”

“Okay. Be careful on the way,” he says before leaving.

As always, I go out through the back door leading me to a small alley that takes me onto the main street. The breeze is quite cold, and the shivers running through me strongly contrasts with the heat of the kitchen. I reconsider the bus, but remember there aren't any at this time. I sigh and head home.

I'm tired. I would like to lie down in a bubble bath, and I focus on this throughout the walk. I’m so lost in thought that I don't notice right away I'm being followed. Hearing footsteps behind me, I turn to see a man in dark clothes about a hundred yards away from me. He’s probably going his own way, and the fact that he's been on my path for more than five minutes now is probably just a coincidence. It still gives me the chills.

I cast a discreet glance whenever I get the chance. I pass by a bus shelter and look up at his reflection in the window to see if he's looking at m
e
if he's getting closer or moving away. No, he's still there, staring at me. My heart starts racing in my chest.

I finally arrive at my house. I see a luxury car that is noticeably out of place parked in the street. A man in a suit and tie exits from it.

“Miss Scott,” he welcomes me.

“Who are you?”

“Get in, please.”

He opens the rear door of the black vehicle.

“No.”

I don't waste any time and head toward the door of my building, looking up at the window of my living room hoping to see light or a figure waiting for my arrival. Nothing.

“Carly!”

This time I freeze abruptly. I recognize that voice, but I can't say I'm happy to hear it.

“Mr. Lexington,” I respond, turning around.

The man that was following me comes up next me and insists that I get into the car. Inside, Richard Lexington leans forward to look at me.

“What do you want?”

“I want to discuss our agreement.”

“Everything has been said.”

“Come in, will you?”

I breathe in deeply, glancing at the man next to me and accept, although I don't really feel like I have a choice. After all, he's my father, so how dangerous can he really be to me, even if I really don't trust him? The driver closes the door behind me and my whole body is on alert.

“You must have figured out that I'm the kind of man to watch my back,” he begins.

I can't see exactly where he is going with this.

“Or at least what I possess,” he ends sternly.

“But you don't own me,” I object.

“We had an agreement, and I must admit I'm quite disappointed that I'm the only one to respect my commitments.”

“There is no more agreement, Mr. Lexington.”

He stares at me straight in the eye with a threatening, dangerous expression on his face, defying me to continue what I was going to say. I swallow, but I hold on.

“I told you, I don’t want anything to do with your family.”

“It's too late for that, Carly. We can't go back. Believe me, you don't want an enemy like me.”

“Excuse me?”

His reply leaves me speechless. Is he really threatening me?

“I didn't want it to come to this, but you leave me no choice. I always get what I want, and I'll get you, too.”

“No! And if you think that your threats will change anything, you're wrong. Because unlike you, dear Mr. Lexington, I have nothing to lose!”

I surprise myself with the confidence I display when I remind him that I don't possess anything worth taking. There’s nothing he can take from me.

“Don't play this game with me, young lady! I’ll give you one week to call me and get back on board with our agreement. After that, I may just decide to contact a friend of mine that works for a famous newspaper.

“You would willingly put my life at stake?”

“Like I said, I always get what I want.”

He stretches over me to pull the door handle and pushes it open.

“One week. And don't you dare trying something stupid, like warning your boyfriend. It wouldn't be good for you or him.”

“How do you know about me and Liam?”

He doesn't answer, but his stare serves as a warning. I look at him straight into the eyes before exiting the vehicle, and all of my limbs tremble as the car starts. I feel like crying until I can’t cry anymore. I'm terrified! What do I do now?

I learned to live without my father and without a family that loves me, but I never imagined such a reunion. How can I be the daughter of such a monster? Maybe I should count myself lucky to have been raised by the Scott family after all. They were apart of my life for a very short time, but I cherished every moment of it. I feel the complete opposite for my biological father.

I push open the door of my quiet and silent apartment. Ethan probably reconciled with his girlfriend and went home, or they officially broke up and he recovered his apartment. Sean has already left for work. I snuggle in my blankets and burst in tears. I feel so alone and discouraged right now! I thought coming back to my normal life would be simple, but apparently when we open a box, it's not so easy to close it. How will I get out of this mess?

The ringing of my phone pulls me out of my sleep too early in the morning. I don't even look at the time before answering.

“Hello?” I say with a sleepy voice.

“Carly, you're working this afternoon,” my boss orders without even having the decency to ask me if I can, or even if I want to work.

“You know I have the right to refuse?”

“But you won't.”

“If you want me in for just one hour, you can be sure I'll say no.”

“I want you at your section in an hour, and you’re staying for the whole day. We have many reservations.”

He hangs up before I can give him my answer. It's not as if it would change anything; I really need the money, and he knew I would accept. I simply would have appreciated if he had asked.

I sigh and roll out of bed, keeping my blanket over my shoulders. A half an hour later, I'm on my way to work.

When I arrive, the restaurant is already packed. I have just enough time to drop my coat in the staff room when Cayden finds me and informs me three customers are already sitting in my section. I immediately put myself to work.

Table five is occupied by a lovely family with two little, ten-year-old girls. I offer them a second napkin and some crayons to help them be patient, and I move on to table seven, where both men are ready to order. One of them even asks me to take a raspberry daiquiri to one of the four young women at table ten.

The first three hours fly by. I clean all my tables and reset my section. I haven't had time to rest even for five minutes; all my tables were occupied throughout the entire dinner rush. It’s been barely thirty minutes since rush hour finished, and other customers are entering the restaurant. I sigh, emphasizing my exhaustion. But if I think positively, I made a week’s worth of tips in just three hours.

It's half past ten in the evening when I drop limply on a chair in the staff room. I have no energy left, and even my bag containing my cash has become too heavy. I don’t dare look at my hair; I can see a dozen strands in my face, so I don't really want to know what the rest looks like right now. I ran so much that I can't even feel my feet anymore.

“The worst part about this job,” Liv begins sprawling beside me, “is days like these.”

“You didn't make any tips?”

“Of course! But I'll have to spend them all on a pedicure, a massage of at least an hour and a manicure. And that’s not including new shoes.”

I laugh. There’s my best friend.

“And so you worked for nothing,” I point out.

“That's exactly what I'm saying! I hate this job! Have I told you that already?”

“Every day.”

We both finish counting our cash, and hand the balance to the manager who gives his share of the tips to the bartender and the two busboys. I still have three hundred and forty-three dollars. I beat my record! I’ve never made so much money in one day, even with a double shift.

I sluggishly climb the first steps to leave and my boss calls me in his office. I freeze on the spot and I literally refuse to follow him inside.

“Thank you for coming in today,” he simply says.

“You're welcome.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is my day off!”

I'm exhausted and hardly slept last night, so I really don't want to come in tomorrow.

“Fine!” he retreats, raising his hands and shaking his head.

He returns to his office and I go through the back door of the restaurant.

“Hey!” a male voice calls behind me.

I turn to see a figure emerging from the dark. I don't recognize who it is, so I step backward toward the street, getting away from the gloomy alley.

“You wouldn't have some spare change for the bus, would you?” he asks me, coming forward.

“Um…” I hesitate, afraid to take out my wallet just so it can get stolen by a man against whom I obviously stand no chance.

“Are you all right, Miss Scott?”

I turn around startled and fall face to face with a man of imposing stature who stands in front of a black car with his hands in the pockets of his suit. I freeze. I glance at the homeless man behind me who seems intimidated by the man and leaves. I don't think they know each other. That should probably reassure me, but since I'm here alone and nobody would hear me scream, it doesn’t.

“Yes,” I answer in an unconvincing tone.

“I'm Javen Adams. I work for Mr. Walker. He was anxious to find out you worked so late and asked me to pick you up.”

“Thanks, but I'll walk.”

I'm not stupid enough to get into the vehicle of a perfect stranger who claims to know Liam.

“Allow me to insist, Madam,” the man replies.

“Then allow me to resist,” I retort.

His manners do not fool me. My cell phone rings in my purse, and Liam’s names appears on the display.

Before I can even say a word, Liam's authoritative voice sounds.

“Get in, Carly,” he orders me harshly.

Who does he think he is? I'm not an employee he can control at his will, and I'm not even his girlfriend.

“Are you kidding me?” I exclaim.

“I don't like you walking home alone at this time of night.”

I let out a giggle.

“I've done it all my life and have never gotten any trouble. It's not because of you that it suddenly is more dangerous than before.”

“Actually, yes it is.”

I remain puzzled for a moment, but I realize that he's talking about the journalists.

“I just want to make sure you're safe and sound,” Liam insists.

“And I want to remind you that it's not your responsibility to do so. I'm a big girl and I hate to be treated like this.”

“And how is it I am treating you?”

“Like I can't do anything by myself. Liam, I don't think it's a good idea, you and I.” I hear his sigh on the line and it’s enough to break my heart. “My life has become a circus the past few days, and I want to go back to my peaceful, drama-free existence from before I met you.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think it's too late for that. Could you really pick up your life where you left it before the cruise?”

“I’m gonna try.”

“Okay. This time I got it.”

He hangs up before I can say another word. It’s better this way. Mr. Lexington was very clear about Liam and it's better for both of us that we keep our distance. I address an apologetic look at the man who politely waves me goodbye.