Take Me On (Take Me Series Book 1) Page 2

  That’s a secret I have to keep locked away. If I admit out loud that I’m not over him, then I end up fighting a war within myself to stay away from him. I have always prided myself on being strong, and I feel like I have to put on a façade to keep my emotions in check. My secret and my heart must continue to be guarded.

  When I first left, I had to practically lock myself in my bedroom to keep from running back to him. I cut myself off from the world, my business suffered, and I lost people who I thought for sure were truly my friends. The pain I felt was unbearable. Every day felt like a knife pushing further and further into my gut. It twisted and inched deeper and deeper, finally delving so deep that it sliced open my soul. Little bits of me escaped into nothingness as I lost myself to depression and anger.

  He wouldn’t just let me go, either, which didn’t help things at all. Every time he would show up at my door or call, another piece of my heart would break, and I would question if it was all worth it or not. I dreamed of going back to him, but knew what our life had become and knew it would never go back to the way it was, not without both of us fighting for our love, and not without the trust that had long left the relationship. He had changed and so had I. There was no going back for us.

  I’m no longer the optimistic girl who believes love is all you need to survive once you find the person you’re meant to be with. I’m not the girl who went through some of the worst things that could ever happen to a person or a relationship, but still managed to hold out hope that I would find my Prince Charming someday.

  I have no faith in love anymore. I don’t believe everyone is entitled to a happily-ever-after, and I know in my heart that I won’t get one. I’m forced to put on a show to reassure those around me that I’m a strong, optimistic woman and that I’m just fine and ready to love again. It’s only when I’m alone that I’m able to remove my mask and accept my fate.

  I desperately wish I could go back to being the girl I once was, but that girl is gone, and she’s never coming back.

  CHAPTER 1 – LILA STEPHENS

  The sunlight broke through the curtains, warming my skin as I slept. A light, morning breeze blew through the window, leaving me feeling refreshed when I awoke, which was drastically different than how I’d been for months. Losing my grandmother, Edie, had really taken its toll on me since she passed earlier in the year. Once I made it through the numbness and depression began to set in, I knew I had to get away. I had to change things up if I didn’t want to sink down into the hole I had worked so hard to crawl out of only a few years before when my life had last spiraled out of control. The second morning in my new home left me feeling optimistic for what the future might hold.

  Stretching my arms and legs, I sat up and threw my legs over the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. Letting it out, I pondered what to do for the day. I was a little obsessive about getting familiar with my new surroundings and decided it was time to go out and explore. After showering, I pulled on my distressed denim capris, a deconstructed Black Sabbath T-shirt, and a comfy pair of walking shoes. I tied back my dyed black cherry hair into a high ponytail and grabbed my purple Coach sunglasses. I hooked a leash on my old beagle dog, Manny, who’d been going a little stir crazy while I unpacked, and headed out to get to know my new neighborhood.

  I stepped out into the unseasonably warm early-October afternoon. It would be getting colder soon as the warm air of summer blew away, leaving the cold winter wind to take its place. I was determined to make the most of the warmth while I still could because the forecast had indicated that these were the last couple of days before heading into a cold snap that could bring freezing rain and ice.

  As I walked down the street, I soaked up every bit of the neighborhood. My mind raced, frantically trying to take in everything I encountered. It would take me ages to remember where anything was, but I was up to the challenge, and I had the rest of my life ahead of me.

  Manny and I continued on our journey to who knows where when several blocks from my house, I stumbled upon one of the greatest sights known to woman kind—the elusive man beast. You know, those men who are ridiculously tall, ridiculously built, ridiculously good looking, and also ridiculously hard to find outside of a movie screen or television show. This one happened to be trimming some hedges along a house that sort of resembled mine.

  His skin, covering long, lean muscles, glistened as loose burgundy athletic pants sat dangerously low on his hips, exposing the top of a perfectly defined “v.” He was the most mouthwatering thing I’d seen in all of my life. His dark chestnut hair, gathered at his nape, hung just below his shoulders. He was one of the tallest men I’d ever seen, well over six feet. Christ, he was a real beast of a man. I felt myself gawking at him and tried to look away before he caught me. I was sure he would probably think I was some kind of a freak with a staring problem.

  From across the street, I remember thinking how he kind of looked like the lead singer of Tori’s husband’s band Ferrum, but she hadn’t mentioned him living in the neighborhood when she was helping me find a place to live. It just never really occurred to me that it could actually be him. I assumed with the amount of people living in the whole of New York City, it was more likely that I’d just found his clone. I wondered to myself if rock stars even did their own yard work. Note to self: this is the way to go when I want to go… well… anywhere.

  Though I might have internalized it, I was never one to put on a show by acting all giddy over an attractive man, so we quickly moved on. Manny and I eventually found a nice dog park where I was able to let him run off leash for a bit. I loved watching him forget how old he was and revert back to a state of puppyhood. I could swear he was smiling beneath the grey hairs that had begun to sprout around his muzzle.

  Scanning the large park, I finally found an empty wooden bench to sit on while he frolicked with the other dogs. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet anyone—I did—but I was enjoying the time to myself. I tended to be a loner for the most part, never easily letting others in. I found it hard to trust people I didn’t really know because of things that had happened to me over the years. This was why I developed such a close bond with Manny.

  The day I found him seemed like it happened just weeks before, though in reality it had been several years. Gone was the little puppy in a box with a “free” sign outside of the grocery store, and in his place was the aging dog I knew and loved. As close as my best childhood friend Paige and I had been over the years, it paled in comparison to the bond I shared with him. He was still the only one I could ever truly be myself around. He knew my deepest, darkest secrets, and he never judged me for them. We had a connection I couldn’t really explain. If you’re a dog person, you understand already. If you’re not, then there just aren’t any words I can use to convey the strength of that bond.

  I developed my addiction to shoes by the time he came into my life, and I chose to name him Manolo, or Manny for short, after one of my favorite shoe designers. I didn’t actually own any Manolo’s back then, but that’s beside the point. I’d had him for close to nine years when I moved to New York, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

  My great Aunt Nora, Edie’s sister, offered to take him to live with her in Ohio when I made the decision to move, but there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen. He was the closest remaining family I had, and I didn’t know how much time I had left with him. Besides that, Nora was older than dirt, and I didn’t know how long she’d really be able to care for him. Then where would he be? Probably with me in New York anyway.

  The sound of Manny barking and growling snapped me back to reality. A Jack Russell attacked him playfully, and he was having none of it. I forced myself to stop reminiscing about the past and collect him before he got into too much trouble. That was all I needed, an angry mob of fur baby parents after me and my crotchety old dog. He wasn’t really crotchety, though. He just had a little less tolerance for younger dogs than he used to.

  As we left the dog
park, my thoughts turned toward the greatest sight of all, and I wondered if he would still be outside. I made up my mind that I would have to check out the situation because I was definitely going to walk back by there. After all, I didn’t want to risk getting lost on my way home, and I knew that street would lead me right to my front door. It’d be silly to go any other way, right?

  Grey rain clouds invaded the sky that had been so blue just a few moments before and thunder rumbled through the sky in the distance. I hoped I could make it home before it started to pour the rain down. I hustled as fast as I could get Manny’s little legs to go.

  My palms began to sweat a little as I gripped Manny’s leash, and my heart thudded hard against my chest as I walked back up the street in anticipation of what I might see. Luckily for me, Mr. Elusive Man Beast was still outside. He sat leaning back on the front steps with his long legs stretched out in front of him. His head tilted up toward the sky with his eyes closed. The sun peeking through the clouds kissed his pale skin, and his chest glistened. Fucking hell, I never thought sweat could be so sexy. Before I could stop myself, I pictured climbing him like a mountain and having my way with his body. I hadn’t had any desire to be with a man in a very long time, but at least I knew I wasn’t completely dead inside. He stirred up something deep down that hadn’t been aroused in ages.

  I tried to avert my eyes before he caught me gawking at him, but found it difficult. My brain shouted for me to look away, but I was too busy savoring the eye candy before me. Lowering his head, he looked in my direction as he started to stand. I sucked in a breath and held it there, just as our eyes met and held each other briefly. I mentally cursed the rain clouds for forcing me to take off my sunglasses. At least I could’ve hidden behind them if I still had them on. How am I going to get out of this without looking like a complete doofus? I didn’t know whether to smile, wave, or run away flailing my arms like a lunatic.

  He cocked an eyebrow and smirked at me. Yes, smirked at me. I can’t recall a smirk ever making much of a good impression on me… not until that one anyway. They always seemed so obnoxious, but his sure as hell wasn’t. Smiling back at him, I quickly glanced away and exhaled. My eyes scanned the ground for a large rock to climb under, but, alas, there were none big enough to be found. Thankfully, I was too far away for him to notice my skin as it flushed bright red, or so I hoped anyway. I just needed to breathe and forget about it. How often did I get a sexy smile from a gorgeous man who just happened to look like a famous rock star? Enjoy the moment and move on.

  CHAPTER 2 – ASH LONDON

  I cranked up the A/C and sat down on the hardwood floor by the vent in my living room. Sweat dripped from my neck and trickled down my back. I was in desperate need of a shower, but would have to wait to cool down first. I liked my balls far too much to subject them to an icy cold shower, and I felt like I might die of a heat stroke if I got under hot water.

  Every time I forced myself out of the sanctity of my home to go for a run, I found something that needed done outside when I got back. I hardly ever left when I wasn’t touring, so when I did, all the things I neglected to do around the house just drove me fucking nuts when I noticed them. Instead of coming in and cooling down, I would inevitably end up outside puttering around. It wasn’t like me to leave things unattended, other than when I shut myself off from the outside world from time to time.

  I pondered, like I always did when I finished up some tedious task outside, about hiring someone next time; maybe the same guys who took care of this stuff when I was touring. I certainly could afford it, but would never actually do it. I never hired anyone for that kind of stuff when I was home no matter how much I thought about it because the boring and mundane had a way of making me feel like a regular dude instead of the headliner at a freak show. I felt like I could really be Ash Volkov for a minute instead of Ash London.

  This time around, was different, though. I didn’t feel like putting energy into anything other than lying around on my ass and staring at the TV or sleeping. Ferrum’s last tour had ended three months before, and I became a recluse, using the excuse that I was writing so I’d be left alone. Every day that went by dragged me deeper into seclusion and loneliness. I only kept up with my workouts because I had a public image to maintain, and if I turned into a slob, we’d more than likely lose a good chunk of our female fans or, at the very least, I’d be ridiculed by the anonymous masses online for letting myself go to shit.

  I lowered myself down to lie on the floor and closed my eyes for a few minutes. As soon as they were shut, an image of the girl with the nice ass from outside was all I could see. Gawking from girls was nothing new, but for some reason she caught my attention for the time being. She was probably just a fan who had managed to catch me outside, which did happen more than I liked. The idea of moving to some secluded place with no neighbors for miles was one I thought about more than once or twice. As much as I tried over the years to keep my personal life private, including where I lived and my real name, there were always those few who were determined to figure out where I lived that eventually succeeded. The ones who found me were usually more aggressive than she was. It wasn’t unusual for people like that to march right up to me and demand my attention. I didn’t get that vibe from her at all. In the brief moment she caught my eye, she looked uneasy, like she wanted to run.

  There was something about her I found sexy as hell, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe it was the Black Sabbath shirt she wore, which somehow managed to cling to her body in just the right places. Her taste in music definitely added to the hotness factor in my book. The fact that she had a nice back side I’d noticed the first time she walked up the street only added to the fascination I suppose. I didn’t even know what she looked like up close, but I knew I wanted to see more of her.

  If I ever got the chance to get close enough to her, maybe I would talk to her and pull myself out of the miserable funk I’d found myself in. I was good at making the first move, although I hadn’t always been. I reluctantly let my stage persona, the loud, foul-mouthed dick who took shit from no one and had no problems saying what he thought, take over my life for the most part. I found it difficult at times to shed him, no matter how badly I wanted to.

  I was only able to be my true self when I was away from the music scene, but very few ever saw that side of me. It was easier to bury myself and be what people expected of me when I was in the public eye than to constantly answer why I was being so quiet or why I seemed distant. Was I sick? Why was I not being the life of the party? Why was I pissed off? It got old fast.

  Growing up, I had a lot of friends who I knew were there because they liked me for who I was and what I had to offer. I met my two bandmates in high school, and we always knew we wanted to be rock stars. As I grew older and became a prominent part of the music industry, I found I could trust very few people, even the friends I’d made early on in life. Someone always wanted something from me whether it was exposure, money, or just flat out sex. I’d been taken advantage of by friends, family, acquaintances, and especially women too many times to count. I was at a point in my life where I didn’t trust most of the people I met and was even skeptical of my own bandmates at times.

  And speaking of flat out sex, I was much more of a man whore than I ever thought I could be when I first dreamt of being in a band back in high school. Back then I was lucky to get a girl to smile at me, let alone go anywhere near my cock. My life as the front man for Ferrum was your typical rock and roll rollercoaster. Sex, alcohol, drugs… you name it, I had access to it. Now that didn’t mean I indulged in everything offered, but I had a hard time turning down an attractive woman offering herself to me.

  For all the ass I got once I made it, I’d only had one serious relationship in my life. It started back before Ferrum really broke onto the scene, and we were together for a couple of years. We tried to make it work, but in the end, it was all for nothing. I’ve met plenty of women who claimed they could handle me and the
spotlight, but no one ever lasted more than a couple of weeks before they showed their true colors, which usually consisted of greed, selfishness, jealousy, and immaturity.

  I was finally at a point in my life where I wanted to meet someone and settle down, and I was hopeful I could find an honest woman who didn’t give two shits about who I was. Unfortunately, Ash London’s reputation had made that impossible for me to do.

  CHAPTER 3 – LILA STEPHENS

  The poor pooch’s tongue was damn near hanging to the ground as he panted away, so I filled his bowl up with water after we returned home. Grabbing a bottle of water for myself, I sat down with my laptop to check my email and to update my friends through various social networks about my new experiences. There was a message from a new client on my business website wanting to know if I could meet with her a day early. I tapped out a reply and told her that would be okay with me and that I looked forward to meeting with her.

  I was eager to get back to work as a CPA. I started my own business around the time Edie’s health began to decline. Working for a local CPA firm right out of college had made me loathe the routine of office life. I’m much more focused when I can work on my own terms, so I quit and went into business for myself. I didn’t have to have office space or traditional hours if I only met with clients monthly. They usually preferred me coming to them anyway. The majority of my work could be done in the evening or whenever I had time. It was important for me at the time to be able to take care of my grandmother and usher her around when she needed or wanted to go somewhere.

  The accounting services I provided allowed me to pick up in New York where I left off back in West Virginia. Granted I had to get licensed in the state of New York, but I managed to accomplish that pretty quickly after I began entertaining the idea of moving. I had endless opportunities with acquiring new business in New York, and was able to keep some clients from back home by communicating everything through my personal website and emails.