Louise: A New Beginning

By Diana Nixon

Life is not always easy. Especially when you are in love with the man whose life is so much different from yours. Power, money, respect – these are the things that a girl raised in an orphanage can only dream about. But sometimes, love is the only power that you need to get whatever you wish for...
Louise Woods had always been a fighter. She had known since childhood that everything has a price. But freedom was the only thing that she could never have.
Living in a world of lies and betrayal, will she sacrifice her love to become finally free?
Or will she let her heart win?
A new journey full of passion and forbidden dreams; it’s a new dance, it’s a new life.
“We will start it all from the very beginning, from the very first kiss...”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diana Nixon
• Release date: Sep 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005614034

Diana Nixon

USA Today & International Bestselling Author Diana Nixon writes sweet and spicy romance reads. A book addict and a Master of Law in the past, she knows how to weave plots that will keep you hooked from start to finish. Her stories can be funny or tragic, but her characters are strong, rebellious, and passionate about everything they do. When Diana isn’t busy writing, she spends her time reading books or watching historical dramas. A mom of two, she can’t live without coffee and chocolate, and she believes that writing is the best cure for everything that can be healed with words.Her books have been published internationally, in seven languages: English, Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, French, and Portuguese.

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LOUISE: A NEW BEGINNING

By Diana Nixon

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Copyright © 2016 by Diana Nixon

All rights reserved

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No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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Cover design by Jennifer Munswami

(J. M. Rising Horse Creations)

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Edited by Heather Anne Davis

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(Summary)

Life is not always easy. Especially when you are in love with the man whose life is so much different from yours. Power, money, respect – these are the things that a girl raised in an orphanage can only dream about. But sometimes, love is the only power that you need to get whatever you wish for…

Louise Woods had always been a fighter. She had known since childhood that everything has a price. But freedom was the only thing that she could never have.

Living in a world of lies and betrayal, will she sacrifice her love to become finally free?

Or will she let her heart win?

A new journey full of passion and forbidden dreams; it’s a new dance, it’s a new life.

We will start it all from the very beginning, from the very first kiss…

***

Prologue

New York, 2005

William

I was terribly late for a meeting with my father. I looked down at my watch and sped up, twisting my way through the crowd flooding the train station.

Today was the day that I had been waiting for, and I had been waiting for it for ages; it was the day my biggest dream was going to come true; the day when I was going to become my father’s official deputy. Finally.

For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be like my dad – a strong and successful man, whose every word was an order. When I was a kid, I used to think that every man who wore a suit and a tie was ‘a walking letter of the law’. I smiled to myself, looking down at the outfit I was wearing today – my very first tailored suit that somehow felt like it was borrowed. I was not me, but a stranger, who was so much wiser and infinitely more clever than the real William Blair. I didn’t feel like a walking letter of the law, not just yet. I still felt like a small boy, unsure whether I was ready to do the things that my family expected me to do; it didn’t feel like this was the day, I was still dreaming my big dreams, and hoping they would be real eventually.

The funny thing about this whole scenario was, until this very moment, I never thought about the power of dreams – one of the most exciting and mysterious things in the world. Dreams are like short stories that our hearts and souls write for us. They make people do wonderful things: motivate us, make us see things that we never even knew existed, in short, they change us.

They changed me. . .

The first time I went to my father’s office, I was just a ten-year-old boy. His office was situated in the Empire State Building, one of the world’s tallest skyscrapers. I stood in the lobby with wide eyes. It looked like a whole new world to me. No one paid any attention to the kid wandering around by himself, until one of the security guards walked over to me, saying, It’s a great day for an excursion, isn’t it, young man? He was dressed in a dark-blue uniform, with a small badge hanging from the pocket of his shirt; according to his ID, his name was Milton. He was probably around twenty, maybe older.

I don’t know, Sir, I said, looking up at him. Do people come here for excursions?

All the time.

I’m here on business, I said, aiming the camera I was holding at one of the enormous stained-glass windows. I loved photography, and always took my camera with me. It was a gift from my father, it was my precious ‘toy’, and the best present I had ever received from anyone. Back then, I was sure photography would be my life, but life is known for having plans of its own...

Oh, really? The guy smiled down at me, as if he thought I was joking. Do you have a meeting here, or what?

Yes, Sir. I’m here to see my father. I looked at the picture I had taken on the screen of my camera, nodded in approval, and then turned the camera off.

And who is your father?

Randal Blair, I replied, feeling a sense of pride.

The guy’s eyes widened. Oh. . . I see. . . Obviously, the name rang a bell. Did you come here alone? Or are you here with your mom?

Our driver, Christopher, brought me here. He told me to go to the fifty-third floor and ask the secretary to accompany me to my father’s office.

Okay, why don’t I walk with you? You know, to make sure that you don’t get lost. He smiled again, wider this time. I bet I was the first kid that Milton could remember coming here, all alone, and saying that I was here on business.

I shrugged indifferently. I was sure I was grown up enough to find my dad’s office on my own, but I didn’t want to be rude to Milton, and so I agreed. After all, it was his job to keep the building and the people within it safe.

Nice camera, he said, waiting for the elevator to open on the floor we needed. You like photography, don’t you?

I nodded, smiling. I love it.

I thought you would be the one to replace your father when he retires, wouldn’t you?

I frowned, not sure how to respond. He never told me I was expected to follow in his footsteps.

But I’m sure that is exactly what he wants. Wait until you grow up, you will want it too.

Uh, if only Milton had known his premonition would come true one day. . .

Here we are, Sir, he said, as the elevator stopped and the door opened into a spacious hall. Kate! He called out to a girl with red hair, sitting at the crescent-shaped desk. Mr. Blair’s son is here to see him.

She nodded, stood up, and walked towards us, smiling brightly at Milton. They were probably the same age, and I could see that Milton was glad to see Kate. I assumed she was the actual reason behind him walking me upstairs.

William, right? Kate asked, coming to me. Your dad is waiting for you. Follow me please.

But before I did as she said, I turned to Milton and wished him a good day.

Hope you will like it here, Sir, he said in response.

And I did like it, so much I couldn’t stop talking about that day for the next couple of weeks. I would sit and wait for my dad to come home in the evening, just to ask him everything I could possibly think of about the company and how it worked. After some time I realized that Milton was right, my father did want me to follow in his footsteps, and even though I was still crazy about photography, I could easily imagine myself sitting in his huge leather chair one day. . .

And today, I was about to get one step closer to that big dream coming true. I never openly said that it had been my dream since I was ten. I graduated from school, took photography classes in Paris, which I must admit I enjoyed a lot, but deep down inside all I wanted was to become him – the man that I was so proud to call my father.

I still felt the excitement that I felt the day I crossed into my dad’s office for the first time, almost ten years ago. Only today, it went along with fear, the fear of not being able to meet his expectations, the fear of failing.

No one could see how nervous I was. The crowd around me was too busy thinking about their own problems. I didn’t blame them. I was one of them, with my own life to worry about.

Suddenly, something caught my attention. I looked closer and saw a small red light flashing on the floor, just a few feet away from me. I slowed down, hoping it was not what I thought it was. Then I walked closer and stopped dead in my tracks.

Impossible, I thought to myself. I looked around carefully, but no one seemed to care about a little girl, sitting on a piece of cardboard, with an iron bracelet, locked around one of her ankles. There I saw the red light, the light that said it all – the girl belonged to Paradise, the worst place in the world, or rather Hell on Earth for kids or anyone else to ever cross its threshold.

I swore quietly to myself. I knew way too much about Paradise to believe that the damn bracelet, AKA tracker on the girl’s ankle was just a flashing piece of jewelry. It was her curse, her cruel reality that she couldn’t change. . .

I remembered the day my father told me about Paradise. He told me it was an orphanage, and that he had grown up there. He had said it wasn’t like other orphanages where parents left their kids because they didn’t want them. It was a place where secrets were supposed to be kept, and by secrets, I mean illegitimate children of famous and powerful people whose lives would be complicated by the existence of said child, and that child was never supposed to be born in the first place. In Paradise they tracked every step the kids made, and when they were old enough to leave, they let them go, so they could live the lives they wanted for themselves. But only a few were actually able to survive the cruelty of the outside world. Only a few managed to become whoever they wanted to be. And they never ever were allowed to know who their biological parents were. Most of them thought their parents were dead.

The girl on the train station was around ten, twelve maybe. She was wearing a dark coat, all torn and dirty. She was shaking visibly, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets. No doubt, she was freezing. My first thought was to take her away from the station, give her food, and buy her new clothes. But then, I remembered what my father told me about the rules of Paradise, and changed my mind. The girl was not allowed to talk to strangers, and I was not allowed to help her; she would get into trouble because of me.

But there was something about the look in her eyes that wouldn’t let me go – it was searching and naïve, but so full of hope. She looked down at her empty hat, lying next to her crossed feet and sighed. No one would stop and give her a penny.

I knew I needed to do something, anything to help her, but I just didn’t know how to do that and to not cause any problems for her. I moved forward, watching the girl carefully. I didn’t want to frighten her. And even though I was in a hurry, I couldn’t just leave without talking to her first.

I took my wallet out of the pocket in my jacket, opened it, and took out a hundred dollar bill, hoping to brighten up the girl’s mood. I put the bill into her hat, and waited. At first, I thought she didn’t see me. Then she turned her head towards the hat on the ground and gasped quietly. I smiled. I bet I was one of a few, if not the only person to ever give her so much money.

Thanks, she said, looking up at me. There was so much light in her green eyes, as if they were illuminated from the inside.

I smiled down at her. What’s your name? I asked.

Louise, she replied after a short pause. She and I both knew that she was not supposed to talk to me, and I was suddenly so proud of her small attempt to demonstrate how brave she was.

Little fighter, I thought to myself. I don’t know why, but I somehow knew she was not like the other kids from Paradise. The boundless excitement that I could see in her gaze gave away so much more than she knew. Pure happiness was written all over her gentle features. No doubt, she still hoped she would have a better life, a different life, full of joy, and things that the kids from her orphanage could only dream about.

My heart sank at the thought of leaving her at the station. She looked so small, so fragile. Not even her oversized coat could protect and warm her.

Louise, I repeated quietly. What a beautiful name.

Her cheeks flushed. Thanks, she mumbled, lowering her eyes to her hands. Her gloves were covered in holes and looked like she had been wearing them for hundreds of years or even more, no matter how impossible it was, considering her young age.

Here, take my gloves, I said. Yours don’t look good.

She hesitated, looking around carefully, obviously afraid that someone from Paradise might see her talking to me and accepting my small gift.

Take them, you need them more than I do.

She nodded and took the gloves.

You are not going to spend my hundred on sweets and ice-cream, are you? I know she would never do that, even if her evil mentors let her keep the money.

I’ll buy myself a new scarf, the girl said, surprising me with her words. She hid the money deep into her pocket and looked around again. But there were too many people around us, and no one cared what she was doing.

You have enough to buy yourself a new jacket as well, I said.

I will follow your advice, Sir.

I nodded, and then looked at my watch again. I need to go now. Will you promise me something?

Anything, she said, again surprising me with her bravery.

Don’t let anyone hurt you.

I promise.

Good. Have a great day, Louise.

You too, Sir.

I started to walk away, then I stopped and turned around to look at her one last time. I will find you, Louise, I said to myself. I promise you that.

***

I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl I met at the station. She said her name was Louise, and for me, it sounded like a name from a different universe, or maybe it was just because it belonged to her. She was somehow special, different from anyone I had ever met in my life – a little angel living in hell, but hoping to gain wings one day and fly far away where no one and nothing could ever hurt her.

The first thing I did when I met up with my father that day was ask him about Paradise.

Is there any possible way to take her out of there?

"I don’t think so, Son. We can’t help her. Even if she was sent there by accident, I mean, even if her parents are not paying to keep her there, Paradise never allows its children to leave before they turn eighteen. It’s one rule that cannot be broken."

Do you think they will let me see her again? I’d like to do something for her, maybe buy her new clothes.

"Well, you can try talking to their headmaster. But I seriously doubt it will change things. Kids from Paradise are only allowed to have the life that the place offers them, no more than that."

I don’t think I had ever felt so pissed and helpless. But I still decided to try my luck. I went to Paradise and asked for a meeting with the headmaster. Marlena turned out to be a real bitch. The moment I said I would like to help one of her girls, she said it was impossible, considering all the kids were supposed to live under the same conditions, no exceptions.

May I at least send her a few small presents? I asked Marlena.

You may. But remember, you can’t send her anything too valuable. And I would highly recommend it be something she will be able to share with the others. Kids hate it when one has more than the rest of them.

I nodded in response. I’ll remember that.

That day, I began to send Louise different gifts, hoping they would make her life at least a little more bearable while she had to stay in the god-forsaken place. I didn’t know what it was like to live a life like hers, but judging by what I saw and what my father told me about his own childhood, it was not even close to a piece of pie. I also sent Louise letters. They were supposed to keep her smiling, no more than that. Somehow, it was important for me to know that she smiled a lot, I just wanted her to be happy, even if, under her awful circumstances, it wasn’t often. Unfortunately, the biggest part of the problems we have when we grow up is the direct result of what we had to endure as children. And I never wanted to know that Louise’s future was ruined by the memories of her childhood. I knew neither my presents nor my letters could change everything, but I hoped she would have something good, regardless of how small, to remember from her life in Paradise.

I never stopped caring about Louise. Year by year, I watched her grow up. After my father’s death, my life changed, I had to travel all the time, and I didn’t have much time to spend in New York. But even when I was not there, I asked Christopher to make sure that Louise was all right.

He took pictures of her, and then sent them to me. He told me about her breaking the curfew rules and sneaking into a confectionery to buy some sweets. Once he told me he saw her dancing in a train station. He didn’t have a camera with him, but he said she was so happy while she was dancing; people stopped to watch her and they gave her money. She always smiled and thanked them for their kindness. Christopher also said that every night on her way back to the orphanage, she would take a pair of black leather gloves from her pocket, and put them on just for a few moments, she would close her eyes and smile to herself; then she took them off and hid them in her backpack, or pocket. He said she did that even when it was warm outside.

I smiled at his words, but didn’t tell him that the gloves must have been the ones I gave her the day we first met. It made me so happy; simply knowing that she remembered me, made me believe that one day, when she was finally allowed to leave Paradise I would be able to see her again, and maybe I would be able to help her with her dreams about her future, or even just talk to her.

I always had that weird feeling telling me that my story with Louise was not over yet, that there would be a day where she and I would meet in a different place, in a different world, where everything would be easier. Or maybe it was just a trick of my imagination, I didn’t know. But the idea of watching Louise start a new and better life was quite alluring. I wanted to help her, I needed to know that she got everything she couldn’t afford as I child. Whenever I thought about her, I remembered my father, which I guess was another reason for my desire to do something good for Louise. He was not with me anymore, but the memories of him were so vivid in my head. I remembered every single word that he told me about Paradise, and I promised him I would take care of Louise.

I couldn’t help everyone from Paradise, even though I had enough money to buy the damn place, with the bitch Marlena included, but I didn’t know anything about the other kids ‘imprisoned’ there or their parents. But there was at least one child I could make happy. Louise deserved that, and I was going to be there for her when she was finally allowed to be free. . .

***

Chapter 1

Present day

Sometimes we spend our whole life looking for someone capable of making our hearts beat faster. We go to different places, we meet different people, we take chances; we win and we lose. But sometimes, one glance is enough to know it all, to see your future staring right back at you. And the moment it happens, everything changes: your past, your present, your future. Even the best of your memories seem to fade in comparison with those you want to make with the person you fall in love with, so hard it hurts to look away even for a split second. Because deep down inside, you already know that starting this very special moment, nothing will ever be the same again.

So it was with Louise and me. . .

I could have never imagined that the day we met again, after almost ten years, I would still be so fascinated by her. Of course, she was not a child anymore, but a grown woman, full of grace, and blinding beauty, who still believed that the world could be changed by a simple smile. That part of her, the fragile soul with big dreams still lived inside her. Not even her years in Paradise could change that. And the only thing that I couldn’t change was keeping myself away from her.

I gave her my word, I promised I wouldn’t try to control her life; I said I would wait for as long as she needed to understand what she wanted for her future, and if she wanted me to be there. . .and I truly hoped she did.

I had no right to keep her by my side, knowing how much she needed to feel free, for the first time ever. She had never had the right to make decisions. Now it was her turn to make choices. And I loved her too much to take it all away from her, no matter how badly it hurt to let her go, after all those wonderful moments that we had shared.

I still remembered the day my world changed completely. It was late at night in Paris, when a new e-mail popped up on the screen of my laptop. It was from Christopher, he often sent me e-mails with news from the States. The old man was so addicted to modern technology, he said he liked Internet more than making calls, which was not usual for a man his age, who spent the better part of his youth, no scratch that, his life without a cellphone in his pocket.

I hadn’t been back to the US in months, and I really missed my old friend, who had been with me since the day I was born. He was more than just a driver and the house steward; after my father’s tragic death, he became my second dad, my true friend who I could talk to about anything and the only person in the whole world whom I trusted more than myself.

There were a few files attached to the e-mail.

She has turned into one stunning, young woman, I read the only line written in the letter, and then opened the first file.

It was a photo of Louise. I didn’t need Christopher to mention who he was talking about, I knew it was about the girl I met years ago in one of the many train stations in New York.

I looked through the pictures, and smiled to myself. She has changed. . .

I hadn’t received any pictures of her in a long time. Christopher said that she was doing all right, but tonight was the first time in ages that he allowed me to see her again.

She looked so happy. Who would have thought that a girl raised in a place