Addicted to Mr. Parks (The Park #2) Page 2

  When I got back, I placed the milk into the fridge, put bread into the bread bin, some frozen foods in the freezer, and filled the coffee and sugar in the canisters.

  “Cigarettes?” My mum was looking around for them as I emptied the plastic shopping bags.

  “You think I’m going to feed your habit?” I pushed the plastic bags under the cupboard and brushed past her.

  “You’re a spiteful bitch. Just like your fucking grandmother,” she snarled. Not one ounce of her was thankful for the food I’d just given her. She was never thankful. I ignored her goads and headed to my bedroom, where I instantly noticed a few things had been moved. My bedsheets were messy, my ruby had been picked up and placed onto the bedside table, and my clothes were out of the suitcase. After examining my things, I knew immediately what was missing.

  “Mum.” I bellowed her name as I began frantically looking under the bed, in my handbag, then through the piles of clothes that had been searched through. “Have you been in here for anything?”

  “No,” she called after a suspicious pause. I couldn’t accuse her, so I remained calm, because I was fully aware of what would happen if I did accuse.

  “Have you seen my watch?” I knew I’d put it beside the bed, and I could’ve kicked myself for not putting it on that morning. It was routine from the day Parks gave it to me. But that morning I decided not to wear it because I was going swimming. Sure my memory was terrible, but I was positive about where I left it.

  “What watch?” Again, her pause was a reason to doubt her. I stopped looking around for it and stared up at the ceiling, trying to gain composure.

  “My Chanel watch.”

  “Didn’t even know you had a Chanel watch. Posh bitch. Always did think you were better than everyone, didn’t you?”

  A groan left my throat at how unnaturally infuriating my mother was. “Mum, give me a break. I’ve never thought I was better than anyone.”

  “Yes, you fucking do,” she snarled. The constant goading, the way she always put me down and dragged me to unstable place should have been like water off a duck’s back. But it always hurt to hear.

  I stormed into the living room and hovered over her to make my point crystal clear. “I was the kid who went to school with a uniform that was miles too small for me. Shoes that were falling apart and no coat in the winter. How the hell is that thinking I was better than everyone else?” At first I got picked on, bullied, and called names. After a couple of years of taking shit from other kids, I finally found my inner strength. Needless to say, no one ever picked on the tramp kid again.

  My mother was licking her cut lips, which made my nostrils flare. “I gave you what I could, Evey. You’re just an ungrateful bitch.”

  My resistance to accuse my mother straight out for taking my watch was wearing thin. “Mum, tell me what you’ve done with my watch.”

  She slammed her palm down onto the arm of the sofa. “I ain’t seen your damn watch. Why don’t you put your fucking glasses on so you can see clearly?”

  “I haven’t worn glasses since I was eleven, Mum.”

  “Good job and all.” She laughed. “You look like a freak with glasses on. You were damn ugly as a kid, Evey.”

  “Yes, Mum, so you keep telling me.” I hated that I had the strength and balls to have it out with anyone that spoke to me like shit. But when my mother did it, I couldn’t find the strength to tell her to get fucked.

  I walked back into my bedroom and slumped down onto the bed, my head falling between my knees. She stole my watch and had every intention of selling it. Unless I turned the flat upside down to try and find it, I had to face the fact that it was gone. The watch Parks had given me as a gesture of goodwill. As an incentive to get me to work on time. I wasn’t just upset because the piece was beautiful. It was because of what it meant to me.

  I could never have nice things around my mother. Ever. She was too much of a jealous, cold person to let me have nice things.

  “Hey, kid.” My dad knocked on my bedroom door and peered in.

  “Frank, come ‘ere,” my mother shrieked.

  My dad rubbed my arm tentatively, then went to face my mother. He was terrified of her. Whatever she said was the rules, and he would never disobey her. I really didn’t understand it.

  I took a lukewarm bath and pressed Shuffle on my playlist. Jessie J’s beautiful voice poured out of the speaker with “Who You Are.” As she sang, I stared at my reflection in the mirror in front of me, asking why was I doing this to myself? Was everybody hurting because of my actions? I didn’t believe it was okay not to be okay, but I did believe that tears meant I was losing. Losing the battle to keep myself strong. Parks left me, my mother hated me, and I lost my best friend and my home. How on earth was I still holding it together?

  Holding it together had become one of my specialties, though. It was the only thing I was good at. While my insides were crumbling, my lungs finding it hard to breathe, I held everything together on the outside and made myself look like I was brave. A strong and independent woman who needed no one. But doesn’t everyone need someone? I thought I didn’t until I had the privilege of falling into a man’s arms and feeling like the whole weight of the world had suddenly left my fragile mind.

  But hope was gone now. Just like I knew it would be. Maybe I just had to face the facts; happiness was not designed for someone like me.

  After my bath, I took my smartphone out, laid on my bed, and typed in the search engine:

  Wade Parks

  Numerous pictures of his handsome face popped up as he conversed with celebrities, business tycoons, and other billionaires. I paid special attention to a photo of him with his sister Jasmine and his mother. He looked at ease with the two women, but his father was nowhere to be seen. After moments of browsing, I became infatuated by the amount of photographs he had alone. As I stared at the sharpness of his picture and gazed into his enchanting green eyes, I felt a sense of loss. Even though I was never found. I never belonged to him. But I felt safe with him, and now I was lost property again. An item no one wanted. Staring at his picture put me in a predicament. I wanted the man that felt like my haven, yet I hated him for leaving me.

  The day was 19 April, and as I scrolled through his pictures it hit me. Shit. It was his birthday. Normally I begged my errant memory to remember important birthdays, which I always forgot, but that time I begged it to forget. His birthday stayed grounded in my head, and after much deliberation, I texted him.

  Evey: Happy Birthday.

  I had no reply, and the longer he ignored my text, the more it stewed away at me. My anger built by the second as I paced impatiently, waiting and waiting. In the end I texted him for the second time.

  Evey: Ignorant twat.

  And nothing again.

  Chapter Four

  Riding the lift up to my office that Friday made me feel sick. I couldn’t help notice the storm my insides were brewing. I felt nauseous and was shaking because of the amount of alcohol I’d consumed within the three days I had off. Still, I forced myself to work. All I had to do was get through the workday. It was only nine hours. What could possibly go wrong?

  I smiled politely to Melisa, who frowned when she saw me. Her gaze drifted down the length of my body. Usually I went to work looking pristine and with all the locks of my chocolate-brown hair tamed into a neat ponytail. That day, though, I didn’t have the strength to try and look pretty. My hair was twisted into a bun on my head, and my white shirt and black trousers were slightly creased as my parents’ electric ran out that morning, so I couldn’t use their iron.

  “Are you okay, Evey?” She pointed with her pen.

  “Fine,” I snapped, keeping my eyes to the floor.

  “Are you sure?” she continued sceptically. “You look tired.”

  My head automatically turned up that time, my mouth firing out a bark. “I said so, didn’t I?”

  Melisa’s gaze fell instantly, her hands working overtime on the laptop.

  T
aking a deep breath, I plastered a fake smile on my face and walked through the glass doors. The very moment my heel stepped over the threshold, it was like everyone immediately felt my presence and all eyes darted towards me. Forgetting their stares, I did what I did best.

  “Jesus, who’s died?” It worked; they soon dropped their faces back into their laptops. Forcing my feet to move, I wandered over to my desk and was surprised to see Clarke. I lowered my backside onto the chair and cautiously watched him take his glasses from his newly tanned face, shifting his weight to face me. He was angry with me. I could sense it.

  “Morning, Evey,” he said stiffly. I knew his eyes were glaring at me, but I couldn’t look at him.

  “Morning,” I said without shifting focus from my computer screen. “You’re home from your holiday early?” I didn’t know why he was home early, maybe because of his errant assistant.

  “Never mind that. Do you want to enlighten me about your actions, young lady?”

  There it was, my first lecture of the day. I suppose I was waiting for it, and I definitely deserved it, but I didn’t want it. “My actions?” I questioned, acting insolent. My focus remained on the computer screen, but my body kept shuffling on the seat uncomfortably.

  Clarke cleared his throat and placed his glasses on his desk. “Evey, Mr. Jordan needed you here this week. Where were you? And don’t tell me you were sick, because Patricia has already informed me of what happened Monday morning.”

  I shifted the mouse to bring my computer to life and exhaled a rough sigh, my mind quickly going back to Monday morning. Oh yes. It was the time I flirted with Dwayne, Clarke’s stand-in, and Parks spanked me over the desk for acting that way. Then I left him with his trousers down and sprinted out of the building. “Why are you asking me if Pat the Twat has already told you?” I glared over at her, but she didn’t hear me.

  “Patricia told me you marched your way out of the building after an altercation with Mr. Parks. Now, everyone else who is none the wiser may assume it was merely a disagreement between employee and boss. However, I know differently. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” My tone was warning him to back off, but he didn’t take the hint.

  “Then why have you been absent? You have disappointed me, Evey. You told me there was nothing going on between you two. I thought you loved this job, yet you allow a man like Mr. Parks to get in the way of your judgment. I thought you were made of stronger stuff.”

  I slammed my fists onto the desk, venting out my anger. “Well maybe I’m not, Clarke!”

  He recoiled quickly at my sudden outburst, and the gasps I heard across the room had my gaze darting around to suddenly see everybody staring at me. I shook my head, trying to get myself to snap out of my mood, but it was no use. “Sorry.” I breathed out, but Clarke seemed to remain sympathetic towards me. His hand came down onto mine, enclosing it gently.

  “My girl,” he lowered his voice, “tell me what’s bothering you. If you don’t mind me saying, you look dreadful.” I looked dreadful? Well, if I looked half as bad as how I felt, I’d say I looked pretty damn shit. My eyes closed on a deep swallow. My lids felt watery, tired, and sore. If I closed them for too long, I was scared I wouldn’t be able to open them again. I didn’t want to open them again.

  Feeling beholden to Clarke, I wanted to tell him what was wrong with me, but because of my personality, there was more chance of winning the lottery. Twice.

  “Like I said.” I sighed, fabricating my response. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” I pulled my hand from under his, took back the mouse, and tried to log in to my account. Twice I tried the password but kept getting it wrong. The third time my computer pinged, telling me I had one more chance.

  “Are you having some trouble sighing in?” Clarke frowned.

  I widened my blurry eyes and tried again, that time using more concentration. I was in. “I’ve done it,” I told him firmly.

  He tried ignoring my erratic behaviour as he typed. “I have to look around for a new junior.”

  “Oh?” I questioned thoughtlessly. “I thought Dwayne had the job?”

  He straightened his glasses. “Well, it would seem something has stopped him coming to this firm. Which is terribly baffling. Any law student in their right mind would’ve jumped at an opportunity to work at Parks Law Firm.”

  “I’m not the reason he didn’t want to come back, am I?” I didn’t care if I was, but I felt guilty because Clarke was excited about Dwayne joining his team.

  Clarke wobbled his head. “No. Nothing to do with you,” he said adamantly, but I was sceptical. I’d gone AWOL, leaving Dwayne without help. After briefly weighing up scenarios of what it could be, it suddenly hit me.

  “Parks,” I growled.

  “Excuse me?” Clarke frowned, glancing towards me.

  “Parks made sure he wouldn’t come here to work with us.”

  Clarke rolled his eyes and carried on typing, clearly thinking my theory was ridiculous. “And why on earth would he do a preposterous thing like that?”

  I knew damn well why he would do a preposterous thing like that, but admitting it would make me sound crazy. “You’re right, it’s silly.” Clarke didn’t believe me, but he didn’t question me, either.

  Throughout the morning, it took me twice as long as usual to type up what Clarke needed from me. I only had two small drinks before I left for work that morning, but Jesus did it affect me.

  “Take these forms to Carla, please, Evey.” I glanced up and over to Pat, who was waving documents at me. I used the edge of the desk to pull myself up, walked over to Pat, who was watching me suspiciously, and took the files from her hands. Walking into Carla’s office, I straightened out my back, getting myself ready for another verbal thrashing. I placed the documents on her desk and was about to turn and leave, but she clicked her fingers at me promptly. I knew I wasn’t going to get away without a confrontation.

  Crossing her long legs, she sat back in her chair smugly and clasped her red-painted fingernails together.

  “So nice of you to actually show up to work this morning. Reason for absence?”

  I wrinkled my nose in disgust, mentally warning myself to behave. “I wasn’t well.”

  “And now you’re better?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, would I?”

  Her phone rang, stopping her from snapping at me. I watched in revulsion at how she answered the phone thinking she was the dog’s bollox.

  “Carla Hammond.”

  Turning on my heel and away from her, I mindlessly stared out the windows and over to the London Eye until something she said spiked my attention.

  “No. I will be attending the meeting alone. Mr. Parks is leaving for America that week.”

  He’s leaving? Why did my heart skip a precious beat when I heard that news? Carla—of course—caught my reaction, and her lips twisted in satisfaction.

  “Yes, Mrs. Hunt, good-bye.” She placed the handset down slowly, then swivelled in her chair to face me, crossing her arms and drumming her fingers along her bicep. “So you didn’t know Mr. Parks was leaving?”

  “How would I know?” I shrugged.

  “Well,” she began, “you have a thing for him, don’t you? It’s a shame he only has a thing for me.”

  What I should have done was act with grace and nonchalance, but my instincts took over, and I rolled my eyes on a scoff. “Is that so?”

  Carla’s offended flinch was a reaction I was hoping for. “You know nothing about him.”

  I begged myself to leave it at that. Pleaded with my mouth to zip up, but of course, I was impulsive. I was never going to relent. “I know more than you think.”

  “Oh?” Her red lips twitched. “So you know that he’s a gentleman in the streets but a beast in the sheets?”

  “You’ve slept with him?” Shit. My voice was higher than I intended it to be, making it seem like I cared. Did I care? No. I was just curious.

  She didn’t confirm it. Just smiled and
pushed to her heels. “Do you remember the night of the society dinner after I spoke to you in the toilets, warning you to leave him alone? Who do you think he came and kissed? Me.” She bitchily grinned.

  I quickly racked my brain, trying to remember that night. All I did remember was how Parks parted my legs and went down on me so dextrously that I would never forget it in a lifetime. Whether he kissed Carla afterwards was a mystery. The thought of him kissing another woman, though, pierced my chest like sharp jabs, making a switch flick inside my head. Immediately, I knew I was about to cross the line, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Oh.” I raised my eyebrow, humouring her. “So how did I taste?”

  She scoffed, drawing her brows together uneasily. “What?”

  I walked towards her and crossed my arms, edging into her personal space. “You see, before I came into the toilets, Carla, Parks had his head between my thighs. So if you kissed him afterwards, you would have tasted my come.”

  She grimaced at my words, her mahogany bob swishing as she shook her head in disbelief.

  “You’re lying.” She spat, her gaze dragging over my body like I was worthless.

  “Believe me, what Parks did to me that night was only the beginning.”

  “You bitch.” She darted at me and latched on to my hair. The files of paperwork, her laptop, and the telephone crashed off her desk as we struggled. The sounds must have caught the attention of my colleagues, and it was Clarke who was first to walk in on the scene.

  “Evey.” He was flustered as he ran towards me and prised me from Carla’s grip. I was seething. Absolutely livid that she attacked me. But I didn’t fight back. I had already landed her a punch a few weeks ago and wasn’t ready to give her further ammunition to fire me. I would bide my time.

  “Get that slut out of my office,” she bellowed.

  Clarke held me until he was sure I was balanced on my feet, then pushed me behind him like he was protecting me and pointed at Carla’s face. He was so angry, his cheeks were burning a bright red.