Hush

Copyright 2012 Micalea Smeltzer

All rights reserved. T
his book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced o
r used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
.

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
.

Heart Vacancy

I hear your heart cry for love,
But
you won’t let me make it right.
You were hurt, but I decided,
That
you were worth the fight.
Every night, you lock
up,
You won’t let me come inside.
But the look in your eyes,
As
I can turn the tide.
In your heart, in your heart, in your heart,
I can tell you can fit one more.
In your heart, in your heart, in your heart,
I don’t care who was there before.
I hear your heart cry for love,
Then
you act like there’s no room.
Room for me, or anyone,
'Don’t disturb' is all I see.
Close the
door,
turn the key,
On everything that we could be.
If loneliness would move out,
I’d fill the vacancy.
In your heart, in your heart, in your heart,
In
your heart, in your heart, in your heart.
This
ain’t
the Heartbreak Hotel,
Even though I know it well.
Those no shows
, they sure tell,
In the way you hold yourself.
Don’t you fret, should you get,
Another
cancellation.
Give me a chance I’d make a,
Permanent reservation.
In your heart, in your heart, in your heart,
I can tell you can fit one more.
Open up make a brand new start,
I don’t care who’s stayed before.
I hear your heart cry for love,
Then
you act like there’s no room.
Room for me, or anyone,
“Don’t disturb” is all I see.
Close the
door,
turn the key,
On everything that we could be.
If loneliness would move out,
I’d fill the vacancy.
In your heart, in your heart, in your heart,
In
your heart, in your heart, in your heart.
When I, talk to you, on the phone,
you, listen close.
I hear your heart cry for love,
Then
you act like there’s no room.
Room for me, or anyone,
“Don’t disturb” is all I see.
Close the
door,
turn the key,
On everything that we could be.
If loneliness would move out,
I’d fill the vacancy.
In your heart, in your heart, in your heart,
In
your heart, in your heart, in your heart.

The Wanted

ABOUT THE BOOK

Siva and Sloane.

Two unlikely people brought together by a tragedy.

He’s moody and dark.

She’s pleasant and light.

But there is an undeniable attraction between the two despite the many obstacles that stand in their way.

Sloane Campbell is an American, living in London as a reporter for a celebrity newspaper, with her boyfriend Devak. Sloane believes she loves Dev. But when he dies and she meets his older brother, Siva, for the first time she begins to find out what true love is. True love is the kind that scares you, hurts you, and messes with your mind. True love is when you will take a bullet to save the other person.

Siva Kapur is an angry, spiteful, moody, arrogant, businessman until the day he meets Sloane. He can’t get her off his mind. He tracks her down, rescuing her from his jerk of a father who has just given her an eviction notice, and proposes that she live with him for the time being… Or until he can convince her that true love lies with him. He may even take a bullet for it.

Prologue

Why, oh, why have you done this to me? What did I do to deserve this complete and utter devastation? I’m a good person aren’t I? Why did you take him away from me? Why?

I wanted to cry at the heavens. It wasn’t fair!

Life isn’t fair
, said that nagging voice in the back of my head that was called my conscious.

I wiggled my butt on the hard pew trying to make myself more comfortable. It didn’t work. The preacher droned on and on… and on.
About nothing.
About everything.
About life.
About death.
Devak wouldn’t have liked that. Dev was a simple man. He wouldn’t appreciate this fuss over him. He definitely wouldn’t appreciate his
step-mother
blubbering her eyes out in the front pew. His father, Rajas, patted her back in comfort. Dev had always been cordial to Lila but he stil
l didn’t quite care for her.
Dev was a nice guy
though
so he didn’t let it show.

A nice guy that’s now
dead
,
said that voice in my head again.
You didn’t deserve him anyway. He was way out of your league.

But I love him, I said to my conscious. And I did. With all my heart I had loved Devak Kapur.

The preacher finished and everyone stood. Except for me, that is. I couldn’t move my legs. They suddenly felt like that weighed five-hundred pounds.

Probably
five-hundred
pounds of tears.

I tended to agree. I hadn’t cried, not once, since I had received the news that Dev had been killed in a car accident three days ago. It’s like my tear ducts had suddenly stopped working.

Lila and Rajas stood by the casket while Rajas took one last final look at his youngest and favorite son. Dev had an older brother but I had never met him. I hadn’t even seen a picture of him. It was like he didn’t even exist. I knew very little about him. The family, including Dev, never talked about him. I wondered what on earth he could have done to deserve complete alienation from his family.

I also knew very little about Dev’s mother. I knew she left, shortly after Dev’s brother, probably from a broken heart.

I looked around at the people still milling about the church. No one looked like they could
be Dev’s brother or mother. Hmm
peculiar family, I thought
,
and it wasn’t the first time.

Solemnly people began to stroll from the church out onto the bustling London streets. They gave me strange looks. Lila and Rajas had never approved of my relationship with Dev. They didn’t think I was good enough for him.

I bit my lip to contain my laughter that wanted to bubble out of my chest. I thought the same thing. I
wasn’t
good enough for Dev. He was handsome, smart, funny, kind… perfect.

I looked up and saw that the church was now empty except for a somber Rajas and Lila that stared at me like I was a speck of dirt they wanted to wipe off of their very expensive shoes.

Rajas was
tall and handsome like his son. He was full Indian with dark caramel skin and inky black hair. His eyes were as black as his hair. His mouth was set in a frown.

Lila, Rajas second wife, had pale skin, blonde hair, and pale lifeless blue eyes. She was the complete opposite of Rajas first wife, Isla. I had only ever seen a picture of the woman but she had beautiful black hair, olive skin, and violet colored eyes. In the picture she looked young and carefree not at all like a woman that would leave her husband and
children.

Suddenly I wanted to giggle. Lila and Isla. It rhymed.

“Sloane,” said Rajas.

“Sir,” I said I wasn’t allowed to call Rajas by his name. Heck, I wasn’t even allowed to call him Mr. Kapur.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sitting,” I said giving him an, isn’t-it-quite-obvious look.

His lips quirked in a half smile and the straightened out. That was odd. Rajas never smiled.

“Aren’t you leaving?” he asked.

I sighed. This was like the Spanish inquisition. “Not yet,” I said. “I’m not ready.”

Lila rolled her eyes at me and Rajas frowned and then sighed. “Don’t be too long Sloane. I’d rather my son be in the ground than up there,” he nodded his head towards the casket.

“Yes sir. I won’t be much longer,” I said.

Stiffly, Rajas took Lila’s hand and started towards the door. I watched them leave. Rajas turned around and paused taking in one last sight of his son. This surprised me. Maybe the man had a heart after all. I heard the heavy church doors open and then they were gone.

I put my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands.

Just one tear that’s all I ask. One tear for the man I love.

Nope. Nada.

“Oh Dev,” I said. “Why has this happened to us?”

Of course no answer came.

The rainbow colored window panes of biblical scenes rained down on the dark wood pews. I saw a man peek around the corner towar
ds the front and upon seeing me
he immediately ducked out like a turtle hiding in its shell. I wish I had a shell to hide in. It would come in mighty handy right about now.

Time passed. Slowly. But it passed and still I sat. Begging for tears. Begging for something besides this emptiness I now felt in my chest.

I heard the church doors open and figured it was Rajas come back to tell me to get my butt out of here.

I stood with my head bowed. “Sorry, sorry,” I muttered, “I’ll leave.”

“Oh?” said a voice that I did not recognize.

“What the-,” I choked looking up into an exact, if a little older, replica of Dev’s face. Except this man’s eyes were t
w
o violet beacons instead of Dev’s familiar brown-black color.

The man narrowed his eyebrows at me.
The two thick black lines knitt
ing together.
He was handsome, v
ery handsome. His inky black hair was brushed back away from his face like a raven’s wing. His skin was a beautiful honey color and I wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. His face was sculpted and his body toned and muscular but not overly so. He had narrow hips which gray pants hung delectably off if.

Great, my f
eelings decide to kick in now a
nd not the feelings I want. I ask for sadness and I get attraction.
Attraction to a man at my boyfriend’s funeral.

Classy, Sloane, real classy.

The man came towards me. Slowly and deliberately he came forward like he was stalking a frightened deer. I wanted to roll my eyes. I probably
did
have the deer in headlights look.

“You are?” he asked in his British lilt.

I nervously wrung my hands.
Who am I? My thoughts were completely befuddled by this man.

“Uh… Sloane,” I said.

“
Sloane
,” he said testing out the texture of my name on his tongue. His violet eyes narrowed at me. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m attending my boyfriend’s funeral service,” I said trying not to be dazzled.

He looked around the empty room and back at me.

“Everyone left,” I said.

“But not you?” he said studying me like I was a complicated puzzle. I had news for him; I was far from complicated.

I looked at the floor, my shoes, anything but his inquisitive violet eyes. “They don’t like me,” I said. “I wanted time alone.”

His laugh lightly filled the air around us. “We have that in common, Sloane,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“They don’t like me either,”
he whispered conspiratorially, like he was letting me in on some sort of secret.

I noticed he wore a pale purple button down shirt tucked into his gray pants with a simple black belt. A dark purple tie dangled casually from his neck. Business chic, is what I would call his style.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I dare to go against the grain. Rules are not my thing,” he whispered.

“Who are you?” I asked in awe of this perfect specimen of man.

“Siva,” he said.

My brows knitted together as I thought. I knew that name. How did I know it?

My mouth popped open.

Oh.

Siva… as in Siva Kapur… Dev’s brother was back.