Denying Mr. Parks (The Parks #1) Read online

  “You’re wrong, Parks. I can stay away from you.” Lie. “I don’t want you—or desire you. You need to leave me alone.” I sighed. “Please. Leave me alone. I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  He was too controlled to show that my words had hurt him a little, so he spoke with his usual firmness and conceit.

  “I have told you what I want, Evelyn. I want you. I want to fuck you any chance I can get. I want to watch your eyes when you come for me. I want to taste your lips, taste your skin. I want to have the privilege of caressing your sweet, tight body at every opportunity. You are making my stay here in London very much worthwhile, and when you stop denying me, it will be even better.”

  My mouth fell open, and the rage that was brewing overtook me. He was lucky a sharp or heavy object wasn’t in my reach, because I wouldn’t have hesitated to throw it.

  “You want to use me for your own fucking enjoyment? That’s what this is?” I wasn’t hurt, I didn’t think. I just thought he liked me, and when he confirmed he just wanted me for sex, I remembered how much of an arsehole he was.

  Yes, all men thought with their dicks. Including him.

  “No, it’s not like that.” He looked almost apologetic as he stepped forwards. The step back I took told him not to come anywhere near me, so he halted. “There is so much more I want from you, and I can’t give you a reason why that is because I’ve never felt that way before. I have never wanted to get to know any woman deeply, or for any other reason than just sex. Before you, that is.”

  I shook my head in amazement. “You think I should feel privileged that I’m the only woman you want to get to know? You probably tell all the women that same story.”

  His jaw tightened as he spoke. He was completely offended. “What I have just told you has never before passed my lips, Evelyn. I am a man of my word.”

  I slammed my fists on the kitchen worktop, my temper getting the better of me like it always did. “You just told me I would be the reason your London trip would be worthwhile. You just fucked me for punishment, and now you tell me I’m the only woman you have ever wanted to get to know? What do you expect me to say?”

  He ran a hand through his dark, glossy hair, clearly exasperated. “I don’t expect anything from you.” He paused, his eyes softening. “Except to let me in.”

  “Why I would let a controlling, arrogant arsehole like you into my life? Why should I give you my precious time? Time I have already wasted on you. I have always stayed away from men like you. I hate men like you. So please, politely, fuck off.”

  “Oh, Evelyn, you’re hurting my feelings,” he goaded, holding his palm against his chest.

  The air in my lungs was slowly evaporating from how infuriating he was. “I won’t say it again, Parks. Get. Out.” I marched towards him and slapped his shoulder, pushing him away from me in rage. “Get the fuck out of my flat and out of my life and leave my head alone.” I pushed him out of the front door, slammed it shut, and slid my backside down it to prevent him coming back in. His voice was raised when he called, but he didn’t yell.

  “You need to make up your damn mind, Evelyn. I want you. And you want me. And I want that man gone. You’re mine and only mine. I will not allow another man to yearn after a woman that belongs to me.”

  I punched the door and screamed, “Fuck you, Parks. I do not belong to anyone.”

  “Wade,” he yelled. After that I heard the slamming of a car door, then the screeching of the wheels as he speed away. The back of my head fell against the door as I shut my eyelids tightly. I was dangerously close to crying, but I reined it in. I would not cry because of some idiot who thought he could have me at the click of his fingers. A man who thought I already belonged to him and who had barged his way into my home and fucked me as a punishment. Never mind how magnificent it felt, it was out of order.

  Instead of dwelling, I got my purse, marched myself down to the local shop, and bought the cheapest red wine they had. The wine that got me drunk in no time and tasted of paint stripper.

  Back home, I ignored my phone constantly ringing, pulled out a big wineglass, and poured the wine until it reached the brim. I took my first gulp without hesitation and slumped down onto the sofa with a mammoth regretful sigh. Fucking Wade Parks. How could he have been in my life for such a short time yet affected me so colossally? I wished he would leave me alone, and I wished my mind would stop allowing him to pop up every fucking minute. Most of all, I wish my body didn’t crave him. But it did; all of me did. Especially after I knew how magnificent he felt inside me. How big and—no, I couldn’t think about him. It wasn’t right. What also wasn’t right was the way I was treating Alex. It was despicable. He didn’t deserve it.

  I’d been fucked by a man I hardly knew, yet the feelings he could make me feel were limitless. I loved every second of it and loathed that I did. It also made me wonder why he was so concerned about discipline. He mentioned fucking some discipline into me before, but I hadn’t taken much notice. Did I need the punishment because of what I had done to him? No. Maybe I needed it for what I was doing to Alex? Whatever the reason, receiving it felt right, and I convinced myself it was for a worthy cause. Besides, I was full of sins. From head to toe.

  After almost an hour, the wine bottle was empty, and my light-headedness was only enough to take the edge off my feelings. If I wanted to forget, I had to be staring into oblivion.

  After discarding the bottle in the waste bin, I covered it with rubbish so it couldn’t be seen, then took my smartphone out of my bag and read the texts I’d received. All but one were from Alex. He was asking me where I was. The other was from my dad, letting me know my mum was home. He said she wanted to see me. How could he allow her to come back? I needed to tell him that his actions were completely idiotic.

  I also decided I needed to see my mum for myself.

  It was probably a reckless decision, but I couldn’t think straight. I was intoxicated, angry, and fucked up in the head. I threw on my coat and caught the bus to my parents’ house. Along the way, I was almost thrown off for being disorderly. My hands kept shaking, my head pounded, and blurry thoughts of my mother kept riling me up.

  I ignored how dark and eerie the estate was at night and ignored the wolf whistles from the gang of boys who were sitting at the bottom of the stairwell. As I stumbled up the metal stairs, someone followed me. They must have been a floor down, but I could hear the echo of their footsteps. For some reason I knew it wasn’t the boys. The hairs on the back on my neck pricked up. Although my paranoia was probably the fault of the drink, I still made quick work of getting to my parents’ flat, tripping up a few steps on my way.

  I couldn’t see straight and couldn’t find the key in my bag, so I banged the shit out of the door until my father answered. His expression was optimistic until he saw my face.

  “Evey. I…”

  “Where is she?” I demanded, clumsily pushing my way around my foolish father and storming down the hallway. I found her sitting on the sofa in the living room, eating from a Chinese carton.

  “Evey, my baby.” She pushed the carton aside when she saw me and stood up with open arms. She was wearing skin-tight jeans and one of my dad’s Beatles T-shirts and looked like she’d put on weight, which was a good thing. Her once long, lifeless, brown hair, full of split ends, had been cut into a pixie crop. It suited her slim, pretty face and made her look more presentable. I looked like my mum, only with my father’s eyes. She was beautiful before she ruined her body, her face, her life.

  I held my hand up to stop her coming near me. “Don’t you dare, Mum,” I warned, slurring my words. “Why the fuck are you back?”

  She recoiled, looking completely hurt. I didn’t buy it. Not anymore.

  “I’ve finished my time in rehab, Evey. I’m clean. I’m sober. I came home to get my family back. My life back. Won’t you give me my little girl back?”

  I shook my head at her, dumfounded. “Your little girl? If you didn’t ruin our relationship i
n the first place, you wouldn’t have to ask for me to come back, would you?”

  By the way she stared into my eyes and listened to me slur she knew I’d been drinking, but she was too wary to question me on it. She turned her back on my wrathful glare and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “You give your father your time, but you won’t give ya ma any?”

  I glanced woozily over to my dad, who was watching me cautiously, then I spotted my mum take back her spot on the sofa. She was licking her lips and biting the inside of her mouth. In the past, those were indications she was back on cocaine. But she’d just come out of rehab, so I wondered if she was doing it solely out of habit.

  “I give Dad my time because he got clean and chucked you out months ago. He did it for me. You were always too fucking selfish. You did nothing for me, Mum. Nothing for us.” I opened my arms as I pronounced the last word.

  Her eyes looked tired as she pleaded with me, speaking with her hands to stress her words. “I’m clean now, Evey. I’ve done it. Please, give me another chance.”

  My hands were also flying around to enunciate my feelings. “How many chances have I got left to give, Mum? You ruin every chance I give you. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve learned to cope on my own. I have since I was sixteen. I don’t need anybody. I don’t need anything from anyone, and I especially don’t need you.”

  She quickly got to her feet and stalked towards me, forcing me to take a step back. She took hold of my hands and kissed them over and over with her chapped lips, making me grimace with each peck. “Evey, please. I’ll prove myself to you. I will be the mother I was meant to be. All the wrongs I’ve ever done I will make up to you for however long it takes for you to forgive me. I just want my daughter back.”

  “However long it takes?” I laughed, repulsed. “Then your wrongs will outlive you.” I pushed her away from me, causing her to stumble back, but she didn’t seem to be surprised by my rejection.

  “Evey, baby. I’m so sorry for putting you through what I have. I’m sorry for all those times I should have been there for you. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused, all the hurt. But I’m clean now, and I will stay that way for you. Please, one more chance.”

  I looked into her dark brown eyes, and with all I had, I wished she was telling the truth, just like I did every time she told me she’d changed. When I was a child, I clung on to every single word, every single sorry, and nobody would ever understand why I would always give in to my mum as a child, or even now. I wished I could have been strong enough to say no, strong enough to walk away. But even after counselling, my therapy, and hardened ways, I never was. The small part of me that wanted a loving, normal, kind mother like so many other children had overruled my choice. Nobody understood that all I ever wanted from my mother as a child was her love. But she would continuously let me down, and I knew deep down in my cold heart that she would continue to do so. Still, I wanted to hold on to that four-letter word I never believed in. Hope.

  I knocked back tears before they could fall. They were a sign of weakness, and I wasn’t about to show any sign of that. Ever. “One more, Mum. I swear to God, you fuck this up and—”

  “I won’t,” she promised. “I won’t.” She held out her hand for me to take, but I couldn’t touch her.

  “I have to go.”

  My father sensed I was leaving and quickly followed me to the door. Before I could leave he pulled me back by my arm.

  “It will be different this time, kid.” His hopeful smile always made me want to either shake some sense into him or break down.

  “We’ll see.” I sighed.

  “You okay, Evey?” My father narrowed his eyes at me. He’d noticed my drunken behaviour as soon as I turned up at his door, but he wouldn’t question me on it.

  “I’m fine. Bye, Dad.” I turned away from his concerned look and made my way back home.

  Steph wasn’t in when I got home, but when I walked into the living room Alex was sitting on the sofa, which gave me an almighty fright.

  “Fuck, Alex. What the hell are you doing?” I gasped, holding my palm up to my beating heart.

  He was still wearing his police uniform and looked embarrassed as he scratched the back of his neck. Christ. “You didn’t call over when you said you would.”

  The last thing I needed was for him to start getting clingy. “You can’t just call here whenever you feel like,” I stressed, immediately regretting shouting when his face lit up in surprise. “Sorry,” I said as I rubbed my aching forehead. “It’s been one of those days.”

  “You all right, Evey? You don’t seem yourself lately.”

  And didn’t I know it. “I’m fine,” I lied, putting on a brave face because I was good at it and trying my best to act sober.

  “I would say, ‘Do you want to talk about it,’ but you’re not much of a talker.” He smiled as I lowered down next to him on the sofa.

  “I’m not much of anything.” I frowned into my lap.

  “Hey.” He wiggled my knee. “That’s not true. You’re amazing.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Amazing I was not.

  “You want me to stay the night?”

  My head shot up from my lap and up to meet his gaze. “What? No. I’ll be fine. I’m just tired.”

  He shifted on the sofa to face me and sighed. “Evey, forgive me if I’m wrong, but you said you wanted to make a go of this. It seems to me like you’re not really interested.”

  I should have told him he was right, but I couldn’t because even though he wasn’t who I wanted, he was what I needed. “No, I am. It’s not that…”

  “Then what?”

  “Nothing. It’s…nothing.” I shook my head confidently and looked at his soft, baby-blue eyes and hopeful features. He was handsome. He wasn’t sexy, but he was cute. He didn’t turn me on, but did that matter? Still feeling intoxicated, I made a stupid decision to lean in and kiss him, resting one hand on his knee and the other on the back of the sofa.

  He cupped my face gently after his initial shock wore off and tenderly kissed me back. Getting a little too carried away, he tried to lift my tank top over my head. I pulled away and jumped up from the sofa. His hands thumbed into his lap, expressing his annoyance, but I couldn’t do it.

  “God, Evey. What’s wrong with you?” His frustration was utterly acceptable, but how could I sleep with him when I’d slept with another man hours before? I was disgraceful. “I’m going home.” He gathered his jacket and wallet and brushed past me. “Call me when you decide what you want.”

  He left me in the flat by myself, scowling at the front door, feeling confused, hurt, and completely muddled. I looked around the room at the mess Parks had left the place in and sagged. Jesus, why did I get myself into these situations?

  Chapter Twelve

  “So you’re playing my brother now, Evey?” Steph pulled my duvet from my body before I even had the chance to wake up.

  “What?” I blinked, completely disorientated.

  “You heard me,” she yelled.

  “Steph, fuck off. I’m not even awake yet.” I pulled the blanket out of her grip and back over my head.

  “He said you’re turning hot and cold and he feels played.”

  “Well I never said I was tepid, did I?” I snapped back from under my duvet.

  “So you are playing him?”

  I pushed the blanket from my body aggressively. “I’m not fucking playing him. And if he’s talking about last night, I acted the way I did because I stupidly went to see my mother.” That wasn’t entirely a lie.

  “Oh.” Her face dropped, and she slowly perched on the end of my bed, looking entirely pessimistic. “Was she high?”

  I scoffed at how causal Steph’s remark was, like it was such normal behaviour. Then again, for my mother, it was. I sat up in bed, crossed my legs, and yawned. “No, actually. She begged me to give her another chance.”

  Her curly blonde hair fell messily around her face from being asleep, and
it bounced as she shook her head. “And you agreed?”

  I looked away from her beady, ominous eyes and sighed my confirmation on an embarrassed shrug.

  Steph punched the mattress. “Why do you do this? Is it only your mother who has some hidden power over you? You’re crazy.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” I barked. “I try to block her out, Steph. But I keeping thinking that maybe I’ll get to have a normal relationship with my mum one day. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  She sighed softly. “Just don’t get your hopes up, Evey. I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

  “I won’t.”

  She smiled tightly and gave me a quick hug, then tugged her head in the direction of the door. “So you going to tell me why the flat looks like it’s been burgled?”

  I groaned, flopping back down onto the bed and did a quick think. “I lost my keys. I was trying to find them.”

  “Jesus, Evey. You and losing things. You’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

  I agreed and glanced at my alarm clock. It read eight thirty. “Fuck.” I shot out of bed. “Steph, why didn’t you wake me? And why didn’t my alarm go off?”

  “I did wake you,” she mumbled, wandering out of my room so I could get ready.

  Shit. I was going to be late. Four times in a four months. It would undeniably get me a warning this time. I had thirty minutes to get ready and get to work. I had no chance.

  ***

  I closed my front door behind me in a rush, dropping my keys as I went. I bent down cursing as I picked them up, and when I straightened, I spotted the black Jaguar parked outside the road from my flat.

  I shifted on my heels, contemplating whether to jump in or not. Then I glanced at the time on my phone and made a decision.

  Cleaver was actually surprised to see me as he climbed out of his side to open my door. “You’re finally accepting a ride?” He gave me a charming smile. I had never taken great notice of Cleaver. I knew he was in his late fifties and had silver-fox hair under a black chauffeur hat. His eyes were dark brown and warm. He was tall and also American.