Pretty Little Dreams

Also
by Jennifer Miller

Pretty Little Lies

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Miller

Cover Design by BookFabulous Designs

Edited by CDK & Associates

Formatting & typography by Inkstain Interior Book Designing

Proofing by Second Gaze Editing

Photography by Stephanie Williams, This Modern Romance

ISBN 978-0-9894074-9-6

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

“Pretty Little Lies has it all: humor, great fashion tips, and a witty heroine. Add in a hot guy and sizzling romance, and this is the perfect book for a day at the beach.”

– Destiny Ford, author of
The Devil Drinks Coffee

“Jennifer Miller does a great job of exploring the nuances of dating for a newly single woman. Olivia’s outlook on each date adds the perfect balance. Readers will hang on each page to see what happens next.”

– InD’tale Magazine

“
If the super cute Fashion Tips that start each chapter don't immediately capture your attention then the second-chance romance will definitely have your toes curling and heart palpating for more.”

–Yara; Once Upon A Twilight.com

“Pretty Little Lies is a love story that gives second chances to those who could never let go, even with the passing of time.”

- Jennifer Hagen; Three Chicks and Their Books

“
There is nothing better than reading a story that takes you back to a special time in your life and that’s exactly what Jennifer did for me, butterflies and all.”

- Ana; Owl Always Be Reading

“Pretty Little Lies made me laugh out loud, shout, cry and gasp in shock - all things I like in a good read.”

- Andrea; Make My Day Books

“Jennifer Miller is now on my “Authors to look for” list. She is amazing and her writing talent goes above and beyond in Pretty Little Lies. This chick gives it 5 outta 5 stars!”

- Manda, 2 Chicks and a Blog

“Pretty Little Dreams is an on the edge of your seat page turner with the right combination of drama, humor, heart wrenching emotion, and sexiness. Jennifer Miller nailed this second installment of Olivia and Luke's story!” - Jennifer Domenico, author of Beautifully Twisted and the Sunflower Trilogy

“Pretty Little Lies is heart pounding and gripping. I couldn't put it down! Get ready to fall in love with Luke, all over again.” - Mary Ting, Amazon Best Selling Author of Something Great, From Gods and the Crossroads Series

“Jennifer Miller once again brings her words to life in Pretty Little Dreams. It's an experience that takes your breath away. Jennifer manages to make you laugh, cry and hold onto the edge of your seat until the very end!” - Lustful Literature.com

To my mom.

Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader.
Your support and unwavering faith in me means more than you could ever know.

1.

FALLING TO FREEDOM

Olivia

I
’m lying in
bed with the man I hate. I wake up, and for a brief moment I am at peace. Then, as fast as fashion lovers rush to a sale at Bloomingdales, I remember. I'm painfully and vividly aware that the peace I momentarily feel is not real and that the man I’m lying next to is not the one my heart longs for.

Another day in hell.
I have no idea how many days it has now been. I don’t know how long I was out before I woke up and found myself bound and gagged lying on a bed. Deacon injected something in my body to knock me out initially, but I don’t know what. When I would arouse during our journey here, he would force me to drink a liquid – water, I think, laced with some kind of sedating drug. The drug would immediately impose a haze and then a deep fog would engulf me, until once again, I was oblivious to everything. Just as today, there was no rest or peace during that sleep, but rather a repeated, tormented struggle: at times a longing to find consciousness and formulate a plan for securing my freedom and, at other times, as fear suffocates me, a desire to sleep into eternity.

I feel myself start to panic again, recalling those moments of pure hysteria when I finally woke up.
I can’t go there. I can’t let myself feel what I really want to feel right now. Instead, I lock the fear in a box. If I don’t, it will consume me. I can’t let myself think of the unknown, of the what-ifs. When the fear starts to drag me into its dark abyss, I defy its grip and force my thoughts to focus on the people I love. Pyper. My parents. And then, with my heart twisting painfully in my chest, Luke. I roll onto my side in a slow, deliberate and cautious manner, as close to the bed's edge as possible, careful not to wake the living, breathing, nightmare lying beside me. Putting my back to him provides me the illusion of placing even more distance between us than I actually can. I hate being in bed with him.

My pulse starts racing as I give that too much thought, so I quickly lock my feelings and thoughts up in that box again, putting them away to pursue later.
Effortlessly, Pyper again comes to my mind, and I could swear it’s like she’s standing before me waving her arms to get my attention. I smile at her image. I hope she’s okay. The last thing I remember before Deacon took me is my best friend tied up, helpless, echoing the wide-eyed fear I also felt. As our eyes met, I tried to convey to her how much I loved her. We both knew what was going to happen. I begged Deacon to leave her, to not hurt her. Whether he listened to me or not, I have no idea. I only know from asking him over and over again about Pyper that he left her tied up on the couch, but in what condition, I do not know, and he refuses to say. He only states that his major objective was to take me. And he was willing to do so at any cost. I can only hope he did not hurt her, that he merely left her as he said. But honesty is not one of his strengths. Regardless, I pray to God that someone found her quickly. I hope she’s alive and well and not worrying too much. I hope she was able to tell Luke what happened.

Luke.
During my darkest times when I’m most afraid, thoughts of him are constant. He’s my happy place. I daydream frequently about him holding me, whispering to me, kissing me. Sometimes, I even let my thoughts venture to the life I wish to have with him some day. My favorite is when I picture us in a home. Our home. Not an apartment or townhouse, but a house. I know without a doubt that it will have to be a house, because Luke will want something that is ours. In my daydream, our house looks like one of those old plantation estates in Georgia. It has a wraparound porch, with his and hers rocking chairs in front; our favorite spot. Luke and I sit in the chairs, sipping iced tea on a warm summer day. Our chairs face each other and my feet are in his lap. I smile, listening to him tell me about the new night club he is excited about opening, while he rubs my feet, his enthusiasm evident. His voice, combined with the breeze blowing through the trees brings me contentment. A dog, a golden retriever named Dakota, is lying next to our chairs. While we talk, I drop my hand down to scratch the top of his head. I think even the dog smiles with contentment. I don’t know if dogs actually smile or why we have one, I just know there is one in my perfect day dream; the daydream and the life I hope and wish to have with Luke. I miss him so much that the ache in my heart nearly crushes me, takes my breath away and I find myself gasping for air. The pain is incredible. It’s worse than a punch in the gut, the unfairness of it all. After seven long years, we have finally reconciled, and then Deacon comes and ruins our plans. Ruins our dreams.

I still thank God that we found each other again.
After hearing him tell his mom I meant nothing, when I took off and married Deacon, I really never thought I would see him again. Thoughts of Luke would venture into my mind often, but I always stubbornly pushed them away. While painful, the best thing that could have happened for me and Luke was the time I caught Deacon cheating and finally took a stand against him and his abusive ways by divorcing him. Moving back to Chicago was the right choice because eventually, surprisingly, and unexpectedly, it brought me back to Luke. And I was finally happy again.

I confess that at some level, I am still in denial.
I had no idea that Deacon would do something like this. I knew he was angry and has been obsessive and borderline crazy over my leaving him, but I never thought he would go this far. I never thought he would take me - kidnap me - from my own home. I’ve tried to reason with him, to ask him what he’s thinking, to make him feel guilty, and to try to scare him. I’ve begged him to just let me go. I’ve promised him that I won’t tell anyone, that it will be our secret. I’ve told him to just leave me here and save himself before it’s too late. He refuses. He shakes his head, laughs. Instead, he makes me do things I don’t want to do, and makes it clear that I am far from being in charge here.

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted as I feel Deacon moving next to me, his fingers touch my back, and I stiffen, acutely aware that he’s awake.
He asks me the same thing each morning, “Have you come to your senses yet? I’m tired of your refusal, no more games.”

Jaw clenched so tight my teeth grind together, I roll over and bravely stare into his eyes, “Let me go, Deacon.
Each day you keep me here, you’re only digging yourself deeper and deeper. There’s still time for you to do the right thing.” I respond the same each time too.

“I have plans for us tonight.”
Ignoring my comment, Deacon rises from the bed, completely naked. I avert my eyes from his body.

“Plans?
What kind of plans?”

“We are going to have a nice dinner together, for starters.”

I scoff, “I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

“Too bad, you don’t have a choice.”

The room I’m being kept in isn’t bad. We are in some house in the middle of nowhere, as far as I can tell. I’m in a room that has the bare necessities. A large bed and a dresser, there is also an attached bathroom, but it too has the bare minimum. There isn’t even a mirror. I can, however, see where the wall paint changes color, indicating that at one time, a large one had hung above the sink. I wonder if Deacon removed it, and if so, when that was. How long had he been planning this? Each time Deacon leaves me alone, which isn’t often, he locks me inside the bedroom. Sometimes I hear him talking to someone through the door. There was a time when I wasn’t sure if he had someone helping him or if he was talking on the phone. I think back to the time when I found out the answer to that question.

Rolling out of bed, Deacon pulls on a pair of pants.
“I will be back. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“Be back?
What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet?
Are you concerned about me? Are you going to miss me, princess?” he asks, walking over to my side of the bed.

“No.
I don’t care where you go. I’m just surprised you would leave me alone.”

An angry look flashes across his face and he leans over me, grasping my wrists hard, holding them up near my shoulders. I turn my face to the side trying to avoid him.
“You better start caring, princess, or you aren’t going to like what happens.” Then he moves his hands to the side of my face, forcing me to face him again. He kisses me hard on the lips.

As soon as he lets go of me, I wipe my face with the back of my hand.
He laughs as he walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Throwing the covers back, I run to the door and press my ear against it – all I hear is murmuring on the other side.
He must be on the phone again. It isn’t long before I hear a hard slam which I assume is a door closing. I think I’m alone; this could be my only chance for a while.

I run to the sliding balcony doors and creep out onto the balcony.
This is the first chance I’ve had to come out and take in my surroundings. Deacon told me when he locked me in this room that we are in the middle of nowhere and I could yell and scream as much as I want – no one will hear.

Looking around, I see he was telling the truth.
There doesn’t appear to be anything for miles. I’m too high up to jump down and tying my sheets together would be useless; I couldn't even reasonably reach the ground.

Frantically, I start running around the room, looking for something, anything, to use as a weapon.
I search the dresser, the top of the closet, under the bed, the bathroom cabinets. “Dammit.” I can't find anything.

Running back to the bed, I rip the sheet from it and wrap it around my hand.
Heading to the balcony doors, I brace myself. If I can manage to shatter the door, I can use the glass as a weapon. Please let this work. I take my fist and slam it against the door as hard as I can. I scream. Not even a scratch and all I managed to do was hurt my hand. In anger, I beat against the door over and over until I’m a heap on the floor. I pull my hand out of the sheet and glance at it. It’s beginning to swell, but I hardly feel it.

There’s nothing here.
Nothing. Feeling defeated, I walk back out onto the balcony and decide it’s worth a try, no matter what Deacon said.

“HELP!
PLEASE SOMEONE! HELP ME!” What do I have to lose? Maybe I will luck out and someone is around.

I wait a moment and then try again.

“HELP! I’VE BEEN KIDNAPPED. SOMEONE HEL…”

Suddenly, I am grabbed from behind and dragged into the bedroom and thrown on the bed like a rag doll. I try to roll onto my back but instead a weight settles on my back, and my face gets shoved into the mattress.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch.”

The voice is not Deacon’s. I freeze as shock runs through my body from head to toe, paralyzing me in fear.

“Lover boy isn’t here to save you.
It might be worth facing his anger to shut you up permanently.”

I don’t speak.
I’m afraid to move. Who is this man? He moves off me so he can roughly flip me over. I stare up into his hard eyes. He’s not an attractive man. Light hair, pointy nose, and lips so thin they’re hardly there at all. He has a scar that runs from the tip of his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. “Leave me alone.”

“I don’t think I will… what does he call you?
Princess? I don’t think I will, princess.” He says mockingly. Then, to my horror he runs his hand down the front of my body, squeezing my breasts painfully and then gripping my hip. His breathing starts quickening.

“No, please don’t touch me.”

“That’s right, beg, you bitch. Next time you will think twice about breaking the rules and trying to yell for help.”

Oh God.
He’s going to hurt me, or worse. I do the only thing I can. I start struggling. I kick my legs like a three-year-old having a tantrum. I throw my head back and forth and get one of my hands loose and scrape my nails down the front of his face. “Let go of me!” I scream.

He roars in pain and touches the side of his face where I scratched him.
The next thing I know I feel a hard smack on the top of my head. I see stars and I panic, afraid of what he will do to me when I can’t defend myself. Just as I start to lose consciousness, I hear Deacon yell, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Against my will, I succumb to the darkness enveloping me.

My eyes well up from that awful memory.
I remember when I came to, Deacon was angry. “You don’t have to worry about Ronnie, princess, I took care of him. He will think twice about ever touching you again,” he said while stroking my face. My head hurt too much for me to react to his touch, until I realized I’m completely naked. I ran to the bathroom heaving into the toilet, not sure if I was sick due to the ache in my head – did I have a concussion? - or the fear coursing through me as I had no clue how I had ended up naked or what, if anything, had happened in addition to what I could recall.

Deacon distracts me from my thoughts when he yanks open the closet door and grabs a box I’ve never seen before from the top of the closet.
He turns towards me, and throws the box on the bed. “You will wear this to dinner tonight.”

Opening the box, I pull out a slinky black dress that I can already tell will barely cover my body.
“I’m not wearing that.”

“Oh, yes you are, princess.
We are going to have a nice, romantic meal, and you are going to wear that dress.”