Scandalous Past: Scandalous Series, #1

By A. H. S. SALT

Broken and Betrayed

 

The man she adored nearly destroyed her. Fighting to mend the pieces of her shattered heart, Jessica swears off love forever. A devastating beauty, she walks among men cold as an ice queen. 

 

And then she meets Cillian Claremont.

 

A lion in a world of gazelles

Charming, confident, and rich as Croesus, Cillian holds the city in the palm of his elegant hand. When Jessica meets him, his husky voice glides down her skin like smooth velvet. And the fire in his gaze promises to melt the ice around her heart.

Helpless to resist, Jessica surrenders her body to Cillian. The scorching heat between them stokes a passion like nothing they've ever known before. But Jessica's cruel ex-lover returns, bringing trouble into her hard-won paradise. Callous and cunning, he threatens to reveal her darkest secret. The secret that could ruin everything.

 

Can Jessica stop him before he destroys her for good?

Get your copy right now and find out!

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. H. S. SALT
• Release date: Dec 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393701194

Book preview

A.H.S. SALT

Scandalous Past

A.H.S. SALT

Copyright © 2019 by A.H.S. SALT

The following is a work of fiction, any characters, places, names are the product of the author’s imagination, any resemblances to persons, dead or living is coincidental.

All of the rights are reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, transmitted, or scanned in any form, digital or printed, without the written permission of the author A.H.S. SALT

Obsession can be deadly

Chapter 1

J essica! You better not be wearing your worn-out converse with a dress again. My best friend Macey said with some irritation rising.

I turned, patiently glancing at the bedroom door while adjusting the backing on my diamond-encrusted earrings.

Oh, come on. I groaned. Her natural curiosity led her to my bedroom. She strolled in, dressed to perfection in her little black dress. A lot shorter than it should be, it literally just covered her ass. She could give the Kardashians a run for their money, with her olive complexion and seductive bedroom eyes. My best friend wasn’t just beautiful. She was in a league of her own.

She stared at me, meeting my taunting gaze. Her glossy black hair hung in long graceful curves over her shoulders. I bit my lip to stifle a grin, as her eyes darted to my feet.

I’m kidding, I tilted my ankle, showing off my impressive heels. See, no converse. It was one time! I sighed, rolling my eyes. She just wouldn’t let me forget the time I went comfort over fashion. Lazy was the word she used to describe my style that night.

My eyebrows flickered a little. Do I have your approval? I asked, slowly turning. She kept up with all the latest trends and bought all the fashion magazines. Then there was me. I wore what was comfortable. A modern-day Misfit. That was the word my best friend on occasion would call me.

Macey’s amber gaze swept over me seductively. "Holy shit! Your tits look amazing in that dress."

I put my hands on my hips.

If I didn’t know any better. I would say you were checking me out. I said with a grin splitting my face.

It was no secret that my best friend was sexually attracted to both men and women. She loved nothing more than pleasuring the same sex but preferred having relationships with men. Her dominant eyebrow rose, and the corner of her mouth quirked up.

Baby girl, we both know if you weren’t my best friend. I would’ve fucked you by now. Macey flashed an enigmatic smile as she walked towards me, extending her hand to offer me a glass of Prosecco.

I stifled a giggle. You’re so full of shit! I scoffed, accepting the drink from her. I admired her confidence and her I am who I am attitude in life. But we both knew there was a boundary line as best friends, we simply would not cross. I loved her. Just not enough to sleep with her and risk losing all the years of friendship we had gained.

She stepped back, sizing me up. You’re sexy as fuck. Start owning it!

Whatever, I muttered, brushing off her compliment. My best friend was confident in the fact that she was sexy and desirable to men.

Me... Not so much.

We both turned and faced the freestanding vintage mirror at the bottom of my bed. Giving ourselves one last opportunity to look over and admire our hair and makeup.  

Macey had suggested turning my sleek and chic deep brown locks into wavy beach curls. The benefit of having a best friend that is a hairstylist.

It made a welcome change as I only ever wore it poker straight majority of the time. After several wardrobe changes and clothes scattered all over my bedroom floor, I eventually settled on my black halter neck mini dress, paired up with gold strappy heels.

I clocked Macey looking me up and down, one corner of her mouth pulled into a slight smile. I knew full well my outfit got her stamp of approval for once. If it wasn’t to her taste, she would’ve given me a rude ass comment or ransacked my wardrobe until she found me something to wear that she found appropriate. Regardless if I wanted to wear it or not.

Go on... I coaxed, giving her a playful nudge. You know you wanna give me another compliment. I teased.

Macey shot me a look.

You have tried on every piece of clothing that you own. Can we please go and do shots now? She turned and strutted away, the thin black material hugging every inch of her skin, producing the illusion it was painted on.

FYI, She stopped midstride and turned, glancing over her shoulder. You're drop-dead gorgeous. She tried to hide it, but I could see the ghost of a smile tease those plump lips of hers.

I remained tight-lipped from the second compliment of the night, secretly gloating inwardly.

I followed Macey into the living room and abandoned my glass down on the open space breakfast bar as we passed, deciding to reach for the bottle of Goldschlager that Macey had picked up earlier in the afternoon.

I rocked the fancy bottle back and forth, my eyes locked on to the tiny fragments of Gold leaves swirling in the bottle as if it was a storm in a snow globe.

Anytime tonight, Macey muttered petulantly, distracting me. I glanced up only to be met with a penetrating stare while extending her arm out impatiently.

Less of the attitude. I tossed out. I passed her the bottle over. She practically yanked it from me.  

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Can we just talk less and drink more.

I eyed her sourly. What’s your problem?

Please, just drop it! She pleaded. Only I didn’t.

Somethings wrong, I pointed out. "You don’t compliment me ever. And you most definitely hate it when I put an outfit together. So, something has rattled your cage." That much I knew.

She closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Nothing has rattled my cage. She stressed.

Then why are you so cranky? I demanded to know. She seemed to be rather irritated and I had no clue as to why. The coffee table was littered with make-up and magazines. So, I bent over and gathered them up, allowing her time to answer my question. The damn gossip magazines that I didn’t care to read were becoming about as useful as placemats.

"I’m not cranky, She moaned. I’m just dealing with some shit." Struggling to open the bottle, she cursed under her breath, before finally twisting the cap open.

I stood tall and narrowed my eyes at Macey.

Like what? I challenged. I waited, searching her face for answers. When she didn’t say anything, I tried a different approach.

Mace? Referencing her nickname showed a willingness to listen. She knew from past experience; I would not drop the conversation until she told me what was bothering her.

She stared at me. A few seconds past.

So much sadness radiated in her gaze. It pained me to know something was upsetting her.

I frowned. What’s wrong?  She was beginning to worry me.

She cleared her throat and brushed a strand of her long black glossy hair behind her ear. "I had a bust-up with this guy that I really like."

Her eyes filled with tears.

Finally! I was getting somewhere. Getting Macey to open up about her feelings was like trying to get blood out of a stone.

More importantly. What guy? I had no idea there was a guy. Well, that’s a lie. There was always a guy when it came to my best friend, but never one worth a second thought. She preferred the fuck’em then leave’em motto when it came to men. So, to have her nearly crying over one, had me baffled.

I rounded the table, more curious than ever. Plonking myself down. Do I know him? I took the bottle from her hands and poured the shots myself before holding one up and waiting for her to take it. She glanced at me, opened her mouth as if she wanted to tell me something, only she reached for the shot instead, downing it, and hesitating to say anything else on the subject.

Or at least that’s what I thought.

Fuck this, She rushed in frustration. I refuse to cry over someone that wants to keep me hidden and out of sight. She reached for my shot and downed it quicker than the last one.

I sat in stunned silence. She grabbed the bottle ready to chug it.

Whoa! I grabbed it back from her, spilling some in the process. No man is worth getting that upset over. I said quickly.

The last thing she needed was being rushed to the hospital with alcohol poisoning.

I placed the bottle down and out of reach.

She sagged back into the corner of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

"What is wrong with me? She muttered. I don’t get upset over guys. Guys get upset over me!"

I shuffled back joining her, making myself more comfortable with my elbow resting on the back of the couch and my legs tucked under my bottom.

Whoever this guy is, doesn’t deserve you, Macey. I don’t even think she heard me. She was suddenly consumed with frustration. She turned her head to look at me, her eyes narrowed.

Do you know what he said to me? Her agitation growing by the second.

I opened my mouth to ask, only she carried on regardless.

"That I was too much of a risk. That he had a reputation to think of. That he couldn’t date someone like me unless I changed my ways." Her hands flew in all directions.

Macey spun around and faced me.

What in the hell does that even mean? She asked, almost as if I should know the answer.

I was speechless for once. Even though I had no clue as to who this guy was. I knew exactly what the guy meant. As much as I hated to admit it. My best friend had a bit of a reputation around town for being... Easy.

Refusing to add fuel to the fire I opted for making her feel better. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, resting my head against hers.

It means you deserve better. I said softly, hoping to ease the emotional turmoil caused by someone that surprisingly had the capability of hurting my best friend from such harsh words. I had always known Macey to have thick skin. So, to see her so upset had me known there was more to this guy than she was letting on.

Come on, I sighed, giving her a comforting squeeze. That’s enough guy talk for one night.

I leaned forward and reached for the bottle, with every intention of keeping her mind off whoever had riled her up to start with.

"It’s time to get so drunk that you won’t even remember his name."

I thought about asking more questions about the nameless guy but decided against it. It would’ve only have dampened her mood even more.

She grabbed the bottle from me.

I’ll drink to that. She smiled, eager to get another night kick-started. I nervously watched as she filled the shot glasses. I sighed, bracing myself. I knew I was going to have one hell of a hangover the next day.

Macey was on a mission.

A mission to forget her man troubles and get drunk.

Our weekends started pretty much the same, since my rushed departure from a hostile relationship. Macey had been my rock through the ups and downs of the breakup. From Friday through to Sunday it was. Eat. Sleep. Dance. Repeat. ‘A night out would make me forget my troubles.’ My best friend would preach. It did for her. I’d come to notice she used alcohol to numb the pain of losing her father.

Something that she refused to talk about.

We began our Saturday night with yet another drinking game. One that Macey always managed to win.

Her tolerance to alcohol was shocking. I was always unable to keep up with her.

My best friend held her tiny shot glass in the air.

Drink if you plan on getting laid! Her infectious grin set the tone. She downed her shot as if she was an alcoholic falling off the wagon after years of sobriety.

Come on, I moaned. We can’t all be sluts like you. I added, as she quickly refilled her shot glass.

She turned and grinned. Okay. She reached for another shot and slowly and carefully held it up.

"Drink if you wish you were a slut like me." Her grin flashed briefly, dazzling against her olive skin.

I took the shot glass from her hand and downed the liquor. The spicy cinnamon aromas engulfed my throat, forcing me to clench my cheeks together as I tried to keep it down, pacing myself for another.

Again? She asked, impatiently tapping her well-manicured stiletto nails on the table.

Bring it on! I said smugly, passing my shot glass over towards her, willing to give her a run for her money.

Oh, game on! Macey announced before quickly downing a sneaky shot.

I pushed her playfully. Hey, that’s cheating! Laughter erupted between us. I filled my tiny shot glass and gulped another. My throat felt like it literally was on fire. I refused to crumble first.

OUR CONVERSATION WENT from men to work. I didn’t mind though, anything to keep her mind off guys.

So, when do you get the keys to the salon? Macey asked, looking at me as she passed me another shot. Distracting herself from her troubles by allowing me to vent out about mine. The salon I’d always dreamed of owning was becoming a reality all thanks to my dad.

My dad reckons it will be ready in a couple of weeks. He’s enjoying being hands-on with everything and pleased that I agreed for the salon to be close to him and the hospital he works at. I gulped the Goldschlager and this time I didn’t flinch when the burning notes hit the back of my throat.

Macey had sensed I was reluctant to say anything else. Approaching the subject slowly, she rested her elbows on her knees, leaning closer.

For someone who’s about to open up her own business. Why the sad face? She studied me with narrowed eyes. A suffocating sensation tightened my throat. She was always willing to allow me to vent my worries out to her, but when I asked her to open up to me, she would change the subject. Shut it down completely.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful that my dad was taking the time and effort to help me have my very own salon. I knew deep down, he would always be checking in, to make sure that I was safe from my ex who’d caused me nothing but humiliation. 

In need of a little Dutch courage, I reached for a shot. I sighed, glancing down at more of the tiny Gold leaves gathering at the bottom of my shot glass before quickly downing it.

My lips fused together for a few seconds before my chest expanded with a deep breath. The hot spicy liquor lingered longer than I anticipated.

He only wants the salon close to the hospital so he can come by and check on me in-between shifts. I finally managed to say through the burning notes.

Tears gathered and stung my eyes. And not from the drink.

Somehow our night had started with both of us becoming tearful.

Not a great start to the night.

Macey took the empty shot glass from my hand and placed it on the table before clasping her hands over mine.

Oh, Jess. I’m sure that’s not his only reason. She pushed back a wayward strand of my hair, locking it behind my ear.

Filled with so much sadness, I looked to my best friend.

Mace, Tears trembled on my eyelids. He looks at me like I’m this delicate, broken daughter. I can still remember the sheer panic that rose in his gray eyes the night I told him I needed his help.

She shook her head. That’s not true, She assured. You’re his daughter. He would do anything to keep you safe. With the pads of her thumbs, she wiped away my tears.

Come on, She rigidly held her tears in check. Big girls don’t cry. She recited a line from our favorite Fergie song: Big girls don’t cry.

Maybe it was the alcohol turning us into a blubbering mess. Or maybe, we both had issues that needed to be tackled head-on. Either way, it was unsettling.

After my dad managed to bury what could’ve exposed me in such a nasty manner for all to bear witness to, he insisted on making sure I had something to keep me occupied. The salon was going to be a gift from him to me. He knew all too well, being holed up in my new apartment, living in fear of my ex, was not something I was prepared to do. The salon was his way of keeping a close eye on me, without having to find an excuse to do so. He also reminded me that going back to my day job at the large department store where I worked at a makeup counter was out of the question.

Macey turned her attention to pouring more shots. Showing her emotions had hit a nerve.

Your dad just worries about you, Jess. I wish my dad was still here, to pay for my digs and career. Or even just to have an argument with. Macey said, her voice a little shaky and holding her composure as if it would be a bad thing for her to cry or show any emotion.

It was selfish of me moaning about my dad. I still had both of my parents. Unlike Macey, whose father passed away eight months earlier, after a sudden heart attack at the young age of Fifty-Five. It was only weeks after her father’s death, I’d noticed her reckless behavior. She began drinking more, even sleeping around with any guy that paid her attention. Anything to conceal her grief.

It was a subject, I was wary of bringing up to her, knowing fine well she would shut me out. Something she did often.

She had locked up that pain somewhere deep inside her and thrown away the key.

She was not the wear your heart on your sleeve type of girl. Unlike Macey, I craved to be loved by someone that wanted me for me. I still held hope in my heart that I could find love so intense, it made me know that life was worth experiencing the trials and tribulations that followed from heartache.

Speaking of salons. I want you to come and work alongside me, once the salon is open. I blurted out. She was miserable at the salon where she was based. It had not long been taken over by new management. I knew I would need to advertise for a hairstylist, once the salon was up and running, having only my cosmetology license in beauty, hairdressing was not a trade I wanted to take on. Not only could Macey’s skills bring in more potential clients. It could be a way to expand the business in the years to come.

And to be working alongside my best friend whose creative streak always had me in awe of her talent would be ideal, and exciting to say the least.

Macey’s eyes widened. You want me to come and work for you? She quickly downed her shot before casting aside the tiny glass.

Her eyes suddenly narrowed.

Wait! That would mean you would be my boss. She pursed her lips, unsure.

I raised my brow. I said with me. Not for me. There was no way I could be a boss to Macey.

She was a typical Leo. Bold, stubborn, and impatient.

I was surprised she had lasted as long as she did at the salon where she was based. She constantly moaned about the girls that worked alongside her, and she also had nothing nice to say about her boss.

I shifted in my seat, needing her to take me more seriously. She looked dubious about the whole idea of us both working with each other.

I held my hands up. Hear me out. I began.

Okay. Macey said evenly.

You’re a talented hairdresser. I said truthfully.

Yes, I am. Macey agreed with a smirk.

You already have clients. I pointed out.

I do. She interjected.

I sighed impatiently. Mace! I need you to take this seriously. My voice was hoarse with frustration.

She rolled her eyes. Fine! Go on. She shifted in her seat, then sat focusing on me.

I’ll do the beauty side of things, I carried on. You do the hair. So, are you in? I asked.

Knowing fine well how to get her attention. I reached over and poured two more shots before turning to face her. I was positive by the end of the night I would be hugging the toilet or passed out on my bedroom floor.

I noticed Macey had fallen silent. She cocked her head at an angle

So, you won’t be my boss? She queried.

I shook my head. No.

What if we fall out? She was quick to ask. "That will not be good for business or our friendship."

I snorted. Why would we fall out?

She shrugged. I don’t know.

We have known each other for a long time. If we were ever going to fall out, it would have happened already.

She shrugged knowingly. True.

Anything else? I waited, hoping she wouldn’t drag her feet and be stubborn.

Do I get to pick and choose my working hours and days off? I was willing to do anything to get her on board with my idea. So, I simply nodded.

So, what do you say? Wanna work with your best friend?

Count me in! Macey finally shrieked, lunging at me. She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, forcing us back onto the couch. We rolled around laughing. Macey’s long black hair lay strewn over my face, as she bared her body weight on me, finding gaps where ever she could, and covering me with playful kisses on my cheeks.

It’s going to be great. She said with childlike enthusiasm.

I can’t breathe. I said in a suffocated whisper. My best friend was more like the sister I always wanted. Part of the reason I wanted her to come work alongside me, was to try and help her with her grief in a way she wasn’t aware I was doing so. And to keep a close eye on her, it was only going to be a matter of time before trouble found Macey, the way she threw herself at men. Macey stood, grabbing my hands, helping me to my feet. I adjusted my dress, back into position. My hands skimmed the clingy material that held my bust in place. My choice of outfit for our night out had me feeling sexy and daring. Whereas usually, I would’ve just tossed on jeans and a Cami top.

Lifting my head to admire Macey, her posture stiffened as she held up her compact mirror, pouting while reapplying her lipstick, tracing the Scarlet shade around her plump lips. 

She sensed me looking at her. Macey snickered, dancing her fingers in my face. You might want to fix that pretty face of yours.

I gently brushed my fingers over my lips. What’s wrong? I muttered. Is my lipstick smudged?

She relaxed her body, giving her lips a gentle rub with her index finger, trying desperately to hold her laughter as she passed me the compact mirror to have a look for myself. I held it up. She had left lip prints all over my face. I quickly rubbed at my face with the back of my hand. When it came to my own makeup I was lazy, to say the least, minimalistic with a bold lippy was my trademark look. I preferred to work on a client than myself.

How’s your mom with the whole salon announcement? Macey inquired as she leaned over to pour more shots. I sat back down, taking a brief second to reflect.

My mother would have preferred that I had followed in my dad and brother’s footsteps, and became a Doctor or even better, marry one and be the perfect wife. Just like she had done after marrying my dad along with giving up her career to have children.

I think she thought it was a phase. She knows now I’m not going to become a Doctor. It was never what I set out to become.

Macey looked at me, her dark eyebrows slanted in a frown. Why does she hate the idea of you owning a salon? Didn’t your mom do something similar to us? Before she married your dad.

I hesitated, blinking with bafflement. Mace! My mom studied Holistic Medicine. How in any way is that similar to what we do? I questioned. You mean similar to my dad. I said correcting her. It was obvious she never listened to the conversations we’ve had over the years unless it benefited her. How she could mix Beauty with Medicine had me ready to erupt into laughter at her expense.

At times she comes across like a ditzy bimbo, but I love her for who she is. She can be funny, especially when anyone asks her anything about Geography. I swear she knows what she’s doing and plays dumb for attention. That is for sure something Macey isn’t short of in her life.

I wasn’t sure if Macey was listening to me, she was too busy looking down at her smartphone as she replied to an incoming text.

I found myself mimicking the smile that had spread across her face as she quickly tapped over the touchpad.

Now, my curiosity was niggling at me.

Is it the guy you were talking about earlier? I questioned, with an urge to know. She was somewhat giddy when secretly messaging back and forth to whoever