Faith

Share
click to expand

Interests:

• BDSM
• Contemporary
• Family Saga
• Friends to Lovers
• Hawaii
• Suspense
• Workplace Romance

Jump to Buy Options ↓

Four years ago

Jensen Wulf let himself into his New York brownstone and sighed with relief. It had been a long three months since he’d been here, in what he had termed as his sanctuary. He’d left on his own accord, ready to make a fresh start and walk away from the heroin haze he’d lived in over the last four years.

The apartment smelled fresh.  The vinegary scent of heroin no longer clung to the furniture. He assumed that his mother had made sure everything had been cleaned out before he returned. She was good like that. She kept things tidy, even as everything else was falling apart. The floors had been redone, there was a new coat of paint throughout…damn, he owed her.

He had disappointed her, more than a few times, but almost dying of an overdose was the worst. He would never forget the look of pain in her gaze. It was that look that had made him realize he wasn’t just hurting himself.

There was mail stacked up on a credenza. His mother had taken care of the bills, he knew that. But, he was sure there was other correspondence for him. He picked up the envelopes and stepped into the living room.

He didn’t see her at first. She was sitting in the chair to the right of the fireplace, her phone in her hand as she read something on the screen.

“I thought you would never make it in here.”

American, but there was a slight accent to her voice that he couldn’t place. She was dressed in a striking red blouse, a short black skirt, hose, and fuck me heels. Her hair was dark brown and long from what he could tell. She had it up in a ponytail. A black coat was draped over the arm of the chair.

“Excuse me?”

She looked up at him. Ice blue eyes. Jesus, it didn’t fit with the rest of the package.

“You spent a lot of time in the foyer.”

He opened his mouth to explain why, then he remembered it was his fucking house.

“Who the hell are you?”

She smiled, but there was little humor behind it.

“Nicola McCann.”

The name was familiar, but he was sure he had never met her.

“And you are sitting in my house for what reason?”

“Your mother hired me.”

“For what?”

“I’m your sober companion. We’re going to be best friends for the next three months.”

End of Excerpt