With a Twist Read online

  With A Twist

  Nicole Hart

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  For More Help…

  About the Author

  Also by Nicole Hart

  With A Twist

  Copyright © 2017 by Nicole Hart

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  To those who have felt unworthy,

  You are enough.

  Never let anyone make you feel differently.

  Fight for you.

  Prologue

  I glanced around the crowded bar, waiting for some type of acknowledgement—from anyone. I’d spent way too long sitting here with my own thoughts, and it was almost more than I could handle. I felt so far outside my element with all the noise and chatter that I was ready to either have a drink, hoping to settle my nerves, or run out of this place as fast as I could.

  “What can I get ya?” The bombshell behind the bar tilted her head lower to meet my downcast eyes.

  I knew I should just get water. I didn’t want to spend the money on alcohol, and I knew Brian would freak out if he saw me have a drink.

  Been there. Done that.

  But I was tired of trying to please him—it never really worked anyway. I would just work extra hard tomorrow and earn better tips. For once, I wanted to do something for myself. Something just a little bit reckless. I glanced behind me for any sign of Brian, just in case.

  “Um…a red wine? Whatever you have.” My voice too quiet for the crowded bar.

  “You got it.” She gave me a smile that seemed genuine—maybe she didn’t see me as pathetic as I saw myself. She stared blankly behind the bar and bit the side of her cheek for a few seconds. Then she pulled a wine glass and bottle out, pouring a drink in front of me.

  The wine looked mouthwatering, and I got a little excited at this small luxury. I wrapped my fingers around the stem of the glass and scooted it closer to me.

  “What the hell did I tell you?” Brian’s voice boomed from behind, scaring me and causing my body to jump.

  “Please, don’t start,” I begged, twisting myself in the barstool to face him as he met me halfway. I didn’t want to do this.

  I should have known better than to allow myself just a tiny bit of happiness. He was always so worried that I would be the one to embarrass him. The tables were definitely turned in this moment. I was sick of this. Sick of him. Sick of trying to make this something it would never be.

  “You came here with me—not to get drunk and act like a whore.” That word cut right through me. Because that’s what he made me feel like. His whore. No one else’s, and I was done being just that.

  “God, Brian, we aren’t even together anymore. I should have known better than to come here with you.” For once, I said what needed to be said. This game we had been playing for months was finally over. Nothing would ever change—he would never change. Not for me anyway. So there wasn’t any point in continuing this charade.

  “What the hell did you say to me?” He grabbed my jaw and squeezed it so hard I was sure it would break.

  I always knew it would come to this.

  And in the next second, his hold on me vanished. He’d been thrown to the floor.

  My body trembled as I realized what was happening…and who had stepped in.

  Those postcard eyes.

  Chapter One

  The potent garlic and basil of the marinara sauce lingered in the air. My stomach churned, unable to tolerate the overpowering stench. I sat on my sofa, sipping my hot tea and trying to ignore the odor wafting through the room.

  “Jess!” Braxton’s high-pitched voice practically pierced my ear drums, running straight through me.

  “Yeah,” I called back to her, trying my best to keep my piss poor attitude to myself. My sour mood wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t fair to take it out on her.

  “I made so much food; please tell me you’ve decided to eat today.” Her sarcasm weighted the air in the room, turning it stale.

  I continued to sip my tea, allowing the steam to roll over my lips, trying my best to ignore her words. I wasn’t up for food today—not that it was anything new. Braxton always told me she ate her feelings, which made absolutely no sense. I was just the opposite. Stress made me nauseous, and food was the last thing on my mind. And lately, stress was determined to become my BFF. She accompanied me wherever I went. Every thought I had, she was there. Every decision I tried to make, her voice echoed in the back of my mind. And when I tried to kick her to the curb, that bitch decided she wanted to snuggle.

  “You’re just going to ignore me, I see.” Braxton stood in the entryway from the kitchen and stared at me, licking the wooden spoon she held in her hand. Bile crept up from my sour stomach and rested at the base of my throat, and I did my very best not to outwardly cringe.

  “I’m just not hungry,” I mumbled, staring into my cup of tea.

  “Jess, you’re wasting away. You need to start eating.”

  “Fine.” I couldn’t argue with her anymore. I stood and headed in her direction.

  “Yay!” A smile crossed her lips, her perfect teeth making an appearance. “Ya know, not everyone is lucky enough to have the fastest rising chef in New York City cooking for them on a daily basis…for free.” She beamed, placing an enormous plate of pasta in front of me just as I sat down at our old wooden kitchen table. I glanced away from the food and concentrated on the large crack down the middle.

  “You’ve been in culinary school for a month.” A giggle rolled off my lips, and I shook my head at her. She definitely wasn’t lacking in the confidence department.

  “Details, details.” She ignored my comment as she sat down across from me and immediately dove into her monstrous plate of pasta.

  I picked up my fork and started scooting my food around while waves of nausea coursed through me.

  “So what are your plans tonight?” she asked right before slurping a long noodle into her mouth.

  Please don’t vomit right here in the kitchen.

  “Probably just finish up laundry for the week. I’m pulling a double every other day for the next ten, so I’m going to be exhausted.”

  “Have you talked to Brian?” Her prying eyes ripped into me.

  “No.” The fib rolled off my tongue without hesitation
.

  “Are you lying?”

  “No.” I almost looked up, waiting for the lightning to strike me where I sat. I wasn’t very good at being dishonest, and I didn’t like doing it. But things were complicated, and Braxton wouldn’t understand. Sure, Brian was a jerk, but he loved me. At least that’s what he told me. He didn’t act like it most of the time, but at least he uttered the sentiment. He was probably the only person who had said those three special words to me in my entire adult life. That had to mean something.

  “God, you’re a bad liar.” She groaned, her fork clinking against the hand-me-down plate from her mother.

  “Look, it’s complicated.” My voice came out weaker than I cared for. I simply didn’t have the strength to argue with her.

  “It’s really not, Jess. He’s an asshole who treats you like shit. I know you keep hoping he will wife you up, and he might transform into this great guy, but it’s not going to happen.” Her nonchalant tone cut through me, right down to the quick, and it stung like hell. She was right.

  I’d spent my whole life dreaming of a fairytale—the kind you see in movies. I’d latched onto my relationship with Brian hoping it would magically transform into something perfect. After two years, I knew better, but I still hadn’t let go. Not completely. I broke it off, but I still talked to him. I still slept with him whenever he beckoned a booty call, even when he came stumbling into my bedroom at three in the morning reeking of whiskey. I didn’t even like it anymore—I just did it in the hopes he would decide I was enough.

  My body should’ve been a temple, but I’d let him use me like a pay-by-the-hour motel.

  Speak of the devil.

  My phone beeped from the living room, and I didn’t even need to check it to know who it was. I didn’t exactly have a busy social life. The only person that ever texted me was right in front of me. Besides Brian.

  I should’ve just ignored it. I knew that. It’s what I tried to convince myself of as I stood and shuffled into the living room without acknowledging the way Braxton’s stare burned a hole into my back. I could feel it. She was disappointed in the doormat I’d become. That made two of us.

  Brian: Are you working tonight?

  The plight of my subconscious to save me from myself fell on deaf ears. My head begged me to ignore him. All he wanted was sex; he didn’t even try to disguise his intentions anymore. Sex was supposed to be fun, but the excitement was long gone. It was a duty now—a boring and sometimes painful chore. Because Braxton was right…I wanted to be happy. I wanted stability, and if I were honest, I longed for someone to take care of me. Not in the gold-digger kind of way, but in the way that I wouldn’t have to worry and struggle anymore. I wanted someone to treasure me. Someone to assure me everything would be okay, because they’d handle it. I’d never experienced that level of commitment and devotion, and for once, I wanted it to happen to me. I deserved it.

  Me: No, not tonight. But I’m working a ton of hours this week.

  Brian: Meet me downstairs in 20.

  I knew better than to think he would care about my work schedule, or anything other than sinking himself inside me for his own pleasure. But a small part of me hoped he’d take me on a date before taking me on a ride. It was only eight o’clock, and he wasn’t heading straight to my bed.

  Brian: Don’t wear anything trashy.

  Wow. He never ceased to amaze me. Nothing about the way I dressed was trashy—at least I didn’t think so. I couldn’t help that most of my clothes came from the thrift shop or Braxton’s “this is hideous, why did I ever buy it?” pile. I was a waitress in New York City. I couldn’t exactly afford name brand clothing. But I brushed his comment aside, just like all the other rude things he said, and simply hoped for a good night.

  Chapter Two

  I stood at the curb with goose bumps covering my bare legs, hoping my hunter green, velvet dress was good enough for Brian. The high neckline elongated my torso, and the hem stopped just below my knee. On anyone else, the dress would have been considerably shorter, but at five foot two, everything was longer on me than intended. But it was a great find in the fifty percent off box at the secondhand shop. It had a tiny rip, which I’d been able to fix quickly with a needle and some thread making it virtually brand new. Luckily, Braxton and I shared the same shoe size, so completing it with a pair of black booties did the dress justice. My boney elbows and knobby knees probably didn’t help, but there wasn’t much I could do about my stature.

  Brian pulled up in a cab and opened the back door from the inside—without bothering to get out. With a shrug, I slid into the cold seat and started to rub my legs with my hands, hoping the friction would warm them.

  “You look nice.” His smooth fingers grazed over my knee and moved their way higher up my thigh and under my dress without even a kiss hello.

  “Hey.” My voice came out in a whisper as I moved my lips toward his, craving an emotional connection from him—anything other than just physical. The stench of whiskey invaded my senses and caused an involuntary crinkle in my nose. But Brian didn’t even notice; his hooded gaze remained on his hand as it made its way toward my panties.

  “Brian, please, not here.” The last thing I wanted was to have his fingers inside me in a dirty cab.

  He jerked his hand away from me with a huff and stared straight ahead. I wasn’t after an argument. I just wanted something other than what he offered. In every way.

  “Later, okay?” My voice dripped with forced sweetness while I kissed his neck gently.

  “Whatever, Jess.” He was twenty-eight years old but often resembled a petulant child. It baffled me. Braxton called it “only child syndrome.” Not that I knew anything about that. My childhood had been filled with more kids than food and more crying than laughter. So being a spoiled child was never on my radar, much less having that child turn into the grown man in my life.

  “So where are we going?” I asked, pulling my dress down where it belonged.

  “It’s a work cocktail thing. My boss seems to think it makes me look more personable if I have someone on my arm. So don’t embarrass me, okay?” His tone grated over me. I was good at mingling with people—it’s what got me good tips. Even the ones I wanted to throw a drink in their lap, I could charm with a smile to earn my rent money. I really hated that he treated me like the shit on the bottom on his shoe.

  “I’ll do my best.” Sarcasm oozed from my lips.

  “Don’t test me, Jessica.” He clenched his teeth together and squeezed my knee way too tightly. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a lot of meat on my bones, but his grip made me flinch, and I jerked away from him.

  “You’re so dramatic.” With a shake of his head and a cocky chuckle, he yanked his hand away and pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning his attention away from me.

  I ignored his tantrum and explored the city with my eyes as I stared out the window. I didn’t go to the Upper East Side very often, and I’d forgotten how beautiful and different it was from my part of the city. Although, I loved Brooklyn. It was more affordable—by New York standards—and there were plenty of restaurants, so I always had a job within walking distance. I loved the hustle and bustle of the city, and it was beautiful any time of year. That’s what drew me here when I’d turned eighteen. That and a man who’d promised me the world but only gave me a black eye after I’d found his wedding ring in his pants’ pocket. I had no idea I was his side piece when he came to the city for business. I was pretty naïve. The signs were all there, but I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted my fairytale. But that wasn’t in the cards. So I took the money his generosity had dished out for the six months I knew him and found my little apartment in Brooklyn. The money ran out rather quickly, and I worked constantly to make ends meet.

  I’d met Braxton when she came into the coffee shop where I worked a second job. She had a newspaper in her hand, searching for an affordable apartment until her modeling career took off. That was typical for young adults in New York. They all wa
nted to be models or actors, maybe an aspiring musician. I just wanted stability and a good life. We started talking, and she moved in a few days later. Once the lease was up, we transferred to an even smaller two-bedroom. But it didn’t matter, because we didn’t have much anyway. We were simply two girls with dreams, and we were determined to see them through.

  That was six years ago.

  Braxton’s dreams had changed as often as the years passed by. Which explained her current ambition of becoming the next top chef. I hoped it was something she would stick with. Boyfriends had come and gone, although Braxton had been with her current love interest, Josh, for about a year now, and I’d started to dread the day she would tell me they were moving in together. I needed her half of the expenses to survive. I loved her as a friend and roommate too, but I really didn’t want to be homeless. Again. That trumped everything else.

  And then there was Brian. The dream I hung onto by a thread.

  “That’s our stop,” he mumbled and then crawled out of the cab before slamming his door behind him. I opened my door and stood on the sidewalk, smoothing my dress, knowing good and well Brian had no plans to open the door for me. Nothing about him could’ve been considered gentlemanly. I stared at the skyscraper in front of me, craning my head back to see the very top. A small crowd stood mingling out front, and they caught Brian’s attention. He held out his arm for me to take and offered me a killer smile. But as I stared into his eyes and looped my arm through his, I realized his sights were set right past me to a leggy blonde with fake tits. I mean, I couldn’t say for sure they were fake. No…yeah I could. They were fake.

  “Nice, Brian.” I made sure to mumble my comment under my breath. I didn’t even know if he heard me. If he had, he didn’t acknowledge it. Asshole.

  “Just smile and keep quiet. This promotion will lock my future with this company. You never know, that might benefit both of us.” His smile was forced as he spoke through his teeth. But there it was. My ray of hope for a solid future. He always knew when to say the right things to keep me clinging to the fantasy. Funny how I could hang my goals for a future on stability without the thought of wanting happiness really coming into the picture. Actually, it wasn’t funny at all. It was pitiful.