Dearest protector, p.1
Dearest Protector, page 1
Dearest Protector
Copyright © 2023 by J.S. Scott
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission.
ISBN: 979-8-399956-26-8 (Print)
ISBN: 978-1-959932-05-5 (E-Book)
Contents
Prologue
Prologue #2
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
Epilogue
Prologue
Ariel
New York City
Ten Months Earlier…
I was exhausted but still running on pure adrenaline as I hurried down a familiar New York City street toward my destination.
I didn’t slow down to admire the beauty of the big city lights at night.
I didn’t look at all of the people around me who were rushing to their own locations.
I never did.
I was working, and nothing else interfered with my focus when my attention was on advancing in my career.
My fixation on being the best ballet dancer I could be was the only thing that had gotten me this far.
“Dammit! I’m late! But I’m nearly there,” I grumbled unhappily under my breath as I stopped at the corner, waiting impatiently until it was safe to cross the street.
I looked across the busy thoroughfare, relieved to see my final destination ahead of me.
I lived and breathed on a very rigid schedule with zero flexibility, so running behind probably upset me more than most people. My daily planner notebook kept me on track, but this particular late-night afterparty hadn’t exactly been planned way in advance, unlike all my usual work-related activities.
An unplanned event like this one had thrown me off balance, and I was completely wired when all I wanted to do was to wind down.
Really, all I’d wanted to do after my very first performance as a principal dancer in Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake was to go home, ice my feet, and then sink into a warm bath.
Unfortunately, that idea was a no-go since I’d been invited to a small gathering at a swanky club that was being hosted by one of the ballet’s largest donors. It was mandatory that I attend since it was a very large donor hosting the party, and he’d specifically asked for me to be present since I was a principal dancer.
To say I wasn’t a party girl was an understatement. Maybe I was young, but I felt like I’d been born an adult. In fact, I couldn’t ever remember being a carefree child.
I’d started studying ballet at four years old.
I’d never really had much of a choice back then since my mother had been a ballet dancer here in New York, too, and she’d wanted the same for me. She’d been insistent that I’d needed to start as early as possible.
I’d joined my dance studio’s professional company at the age of eleven, and after that, all I could remember doing was dancing and making sure my grades stayed up in school.
The day I’d been offered a scholarship to attend one of the most prestigious ballet schools in the country had made it worth all of my hard work over the years. I’d packed my stuff and moved to New York from Florida right after my graduation from high school.
I’d grinded hard since I’d made that move years ago, but I’d finally become a principal dancer.
I just did something tonight that I’ve dreamed about my entire life.
I let out a sigh of pure joy. My heart was soaring, even though my mind and body were completely wasted.
I tapped my foot as I peered at my watch, my euphoria fading just a little as I started to stress over being fifteen minutes off schedule.
Maybe I’ll catch a break and be able to slip into the club without anyone noticing.
It wasn’t that I minded being nice to donors, but dancing the principal and dual role of Odette and Odile this evening had been mentally and physically draining.
Maybe I was still flying high because dancing that particular role had been a dream of mine for a very long time. Really, wasn’t that nearly every young ballerina’s dream?
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the forward movement of someone else who was waiting to cross the street.
As freaked out as I was about lagging behind, that small motion was all it took to send me on a mad dash to get across the street and into the club so I wasn’t any later than I was already.
I didn’t hesitate.
I didn’t notice that the person moving forward suddenly stopped.
In fact, I never noticed my mistake at all.
I never had time.
Almost instantly, I was slammed by some massive force that sent me flying up into the air.
Pain ripped through my entire body as I finally crash-landed hard on the cement.
I felt one more agonizing sensation tearing across my foot, and then for a moment, it felt like the whole world just…stopped.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t speak.
I was held immobile and insensible by the most agonizing pain I’d ever experienced.
Breathe, Ariel. Breathe.
Trying to focus, I sucked air into my oxygen-deprived lungs and then let it out. I kept taking those excruciating breaths because I knew I had to, but every single one was more torturous than the one before it.
Why can’t I see anything?
I panicked because my vision was blurry. I kept blinking, but the ugly cloud over my eyesight didn’t clear.
What in the hell just happened to me?
I fought the rising darkness, something I probably should have welcomed because it would take the pain away. But I refused to give in to the temptation to take that escape route.
I needed to stay conscious.
I was confused, but I knew I was lying in the street.
I was vulnerable.
Oh, God, why am I in so much pain, and why is my brain not working right?
“Jesus, lady, I’m sorry. I never saw you,” a male voice shouted. “I’m calling an ambulance right now.”
Ambulance?
My muddled brain still couldn’t figure out what was going on.
I have to get up off the pavement!
I tried to move, wanting to rise, but I couldn’t move a muscle before the searing agony of my injuries curtailed that plan.
I’m hurt. Maybe I do need an ambulance.
Fear and a sense of helplessness washed over me, which was highly unusual for a woman who was used to doing everything on her own.
Terror and trepidation seized my entire being as it suddenly dawned on me that I’d obviously been hit by a vehicle as I was crossing the street.
When a suffocating sense of impending doom washed over me, I wasn’t quite sure if I was going to live through whatever had happened to me.
I couldn’t breathe, and I was so damn scared.
I kept sucking in painful breaths, determined that I wasn’t going to die on this damn pavement.
Darkness might be beckoning, but I sure as hell didn’t have to answer.
The ambulance was coming, right? Hadn’t some guy just said exactly that?
I’d be okay.
I’d live through this.
All I had to do was keep breathing until the paramedics arrived.
Prologue #2
Ben
Ten Months Later…
Fort Myers, Florida
I stood in the shadows of my mother’s patio, my fists clenched, every muscle in my body tense as I saw an older man snatch the young woman’s wrist and yank her onto the pavement.
She’d been trying to hide in the bushes, but her hiding spot had obviously been discovered by her predator.
She winced and stumbled a little, then tried to pull away, but the hold the asshole had on her was obviously relentless, not to mention painful judging by the look on her beautiful face.
A haze of red clouded my vision, and it took everything I had not to completely lose my shit.
It was her.
Ariel Prescott.
The woman who had haunted my dreams for months now.
A female who had been untouchable for me when we’d first met.
It was possible that she didn’t remember me, but I sure as fuck remembered her.
I’d been looking forward to seeing her ever since I’d discovered that Ariel Prescott was my stepsister Katie’s best friend,
Hell, I’d been astonished that Ariel was here in Fort Myers. That she was actually closely connected to Katie.
What were the chances of that?
I wanted to kill the bastard who dared to treat this woman with anything other than reverence.
Judging by something that Ariel had just said, it sounded like this guy was her boss.
What the fuck?
What boss treated an employee like this?
What kind of asshole manhandled any female?
I shook myself as the heated blood in my body pounded in my ears, surprised that I could barely contain my fury.
I wasn’t usually a guy who lost my mind over a woman. Ever.
I was careful, even-tempered, and steady. I calculated every move I made, in business and in my personal life.
I was the guy who picked up the pieces when bad shit happened and tried to smooth things over until everything was back to normal again.
I liked everything calm and sensible.
I wasn’t like my older brother, Ian, who had silently stalked our stepsister, Katie, for years just to make sure that she was safe because he’d been completely obsessed with her.
Yeah, Ian had eventually ended up with the woman of his dreams, but he’d nearly lost his mind in the process.
That wasn’t me.
I wasn’t that kind of guy.
What in the fuck was wrong with me right now?
Okay. So I had some idea why I felt this way.
Ariel was the one woman who was almost impossible to forget.
I wanted to eviscerate the piece of shit who was abusing Ariel, regardless of the fact that there was a special birthday ball for my mother taking place inside this home right now.
That’s right, idiot. There is a special event for your mother happening within a stone’s throw of this incident. Pull your shit together, Blackwood! Much as you’d like to kill this son of a bitch right now, you can’t!
“Let go of me,” Ariel said angrily.
I could hear the fear in her voice, which almost made me forget that I couldn’t make a scene on my mother’s patio right at the moment.
The bastard scoffed, “You’re a tramp. An out of work ballet dancer. Who would invite you here?”
Oh, hell no! Birthday ball or not, I couldn’t stand in the shadows for another second.
My protective instincts toward Ariel overruled any other thoughts in my head as I stepped into the dim light.
“My family invited her,” I growled. “And if you don’t let go of her and back off, I’ll put your head into the cement so hard that nobody will recognize your face again.”
Every gut impulse I had insisted I act on those words.
Right. Fucking. Now.
Chapter 1
Ariel
The Present…
Fort Myers, Florida
I was in very big trouble, and I knew it.
I just didn’t know exactly what I was going to do about it.
After stepping out of the shower with a heavy sigh, I grabbed my towel and dried myself off hastily, trying to breathe slowly through my panic.
What in the hell am I going to do? How am I going to survive without a job?
All night, I’d laid awake in my bed, looking for a solution to my dilemma, but I’d failed miserably at producing any answers.
Puddles of moisture flooded my eyes. The large tears that dropped onto my cheeks were a result of the pain and stress I’d been through over the last ten months.
I swiped the droplets from my face immediately.
I didn’t have time to cry just because I was exhausted from a sleepless night and scared shitless.
I’ve avoided homelessness for ten months. I’ll think of something. Eventually.
I’d lost my job the night before, and it wasn’t going to be easy to find another one quickly.
Everything…absolutely everything…had been a nightmare since the accident that had ended my ballet career.
I’d moved back home to Fort Myers, hoping it would be easier to find a job and survive in a place with a lower cost of living than New York City.
I’d quickly discovered that finding a job anywhere without the skills to do anything other than dance was almost impossible.
Now I’d lost the one job I’d been able to secure here in Florida.
My landlord had already slapped an eviction notice on my door days before the mortifying event last night that had left me jobless.
I probably could have paid my rent in time to avoid eviction—had I not lost my job the night before.
Teaching yoga to a small class of beginners once a week was not going to pay my bills.
My small fridge in this crappy studio apartment was empty, but really, eating was the last of my worries. I’d gone hungry for so long I was almost used to being continually in that state.
I yanked on an oversized T-shirt, a pair of leggings, and then pulled on the socks I never went without anymore.
I’d sustained a severe injury to my foot that had ended my dancing career, and it wasn’t pretty. I rarely bared my nasty looking foot. It was scarred from the initial injuries and from the multiple surgeries that had been necessary to get me walking on that foot again.
I let out a nervous breath as I got to my feet, avoiding the mirror like I usually did because I didn’t want to see the desperate woman I’d become.
I’d really wanted to fit into the swanky birthday ball so badly last night, and I’d done everything I could to make that happen, despite the fact that I knew I hadn’t belonged there.
For the first time since my accident, I’d worn a dress with heels, even though it had been somewhat painful on my foot. The occasion had called for a cocktail dress, so I’d torn an old dress apart and restyled it myself. The matching pumps had been low compared to the heels I’d worn before the accident. I’d donned thicker, black tights to hide my unsightly foot from the influential guests at the party. Still, it had been a bold move on my part considering that I never went anywhere without a pair of thick socks on my feet anymore.
My best friend, Katie, had a new boyfriend, someone really important to her, and I’d wanted to be dressed appropriately to meet him and his family for the first time.
God, if only I hadn’t gone to that damn birthday ball in the first place!
Last night is over. Forget about it.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done considering all that had happened at that exclusive event.
I especially didn’t want to tell my best friend about the scene on the patio last night.
Okay, so I had finally gotten the chance to meet Ian Blackwood and his mom, but the rest of the night had gone downhill fast after that.
Stop procrastinating, Ariel. Katie is here. Tell her everything. She’ll understand.
Katie had arrived at my apartment unannounced, and I was still so mortified about last night’s events that I hadn’t known what to say to her.
I’d simply let my best friend in earlier, and then given her my laptop so she could finally look at the photos I’d taken in New York. Since she’d been badgering me for months about seeing my pictures of New York, Katie had snatched the laptop immediately. Once she’d started looking at the pictures, I’d retreated to the bathroom with the sad excuse of needing a morning shower.
Actually, what I’d really needed was a quick escape and to pull myself together after a sleepless night.
I had no idea what she knew about the incident the night before, but I was so tired of feeling like a total loser.
Most likely, Katie had shown up early this morning to ask more questions about the bruises she’d seen on my arms the night before.
I’d blown her off and made another excuse, just like I always did.
What woman wanted to tell her best friend that she was allowing herself to be bruised in order to keep her job?
Ian’s younger brother, Ben Blackwood, had been there on the patio. Had he told her about what had occurred?
God, I really hope not. I’d rather tell her myself. I’ll try to make it sound like it’s no big deal.
Katie’s life had been an even bigger tragedy than mine. She was finally happy, and I’d do almost anything to make sure she stayed that way.
She’d come back home to Florida after college, not long after I had returned home from New York due to the abrupt end of my dancing career.
