Stand Close 3 (Stand Close New Adult Romance Series) by Sabrina Lacey
Authors: Sabrina Lacey
Ads: Link
Rue
A loud SLAP wakes me from the wonderful dream I was having about whales. My head jerks at the sound and I crane my neck to see Jack glowering above me, silhouetted by the early-afternoon sun.
I can recognize fury when I see it, so I sigh loudly in annoyance, “What is it now, Jack?”
Without even so much as a hello, he snaps, “Look, nimrod.”
I twist my spine and blink at a copy of US Magazine that’s skewed against my side. With a start, I snatch up the glossy paper, sitting upright as I cry, “No!”
Staring back at me is an old Stone family photo, before Max’s death. My father . I still can’t identify him in that way without feeling like I’m in a Twilight Zone episode. But the horrifying part is that superimposed over the top right of this famous family picture is me, dancing on the bar back in New York in my magic blue dress, my arms thrust out in front of me like Superman. Headline: Stone Family’s Billions Squandered By Bastard Surprise.
“Oh no,” I moan, feeling the air in my lungs begin to spin.
“Oh yes,” my new brother sneers, dropping a fluttering pile of periodicals to add to my nightmare. Some are American, others are from Spain, France, Britain, and Canada. One after the other, I scan their covers and toss them aside, overcome by a debilitating nausea. In most, I’m with Sean and Jack and the look on my face is so cold, I come off as an ice queen bitch. On three covers is the photo taken at my apartment, the one we posed for. The boys look great with their practiced smirks, but in this, I look absolutely terrified.
Maxwell Stone Gave The Nanny More Than A Tip
“No. Oh no no no no no no.” I moan, unable to stop looking.
Saints Jack and Sean Stone Accept Bastard Baby Sister
Another Nanny Breaks Up Home–Costs Family Millions
Rue Calliwell Squanders Inheritance on Booze and Men
Staring at the image of Jack’s and my hand clasped tight, my stomach twists. Just Siblings? asks the headline.
With water rippling off her hair, Jenna returns from a swim in the pool leaving a trail of watery footprints behind her. “What’s up? Oh my GOD!” She grabs one of the magazines, then another. Then another.
Stripping my eyes away from a photo of Alec holding me as we plowed through the mob at the Hyatt, I look over to Jenna who’s sitting on the chair next to mine with her eyes huge and horrified. She holds up People Magazine and shrugs, trying to see the silver lining. “At least you look good.” I read the headline: Olivia Calliwell, Billionaire’s Nanny, Made More Than His Beds.
My hand flies to my throat as hot tears lash my eyes. Jenna goes white, realizing how much this has pierced me. “Rue, I’m sorry…”
I barely hear her. They’re saying everything Jack’s been thinking, completely validating his treatment of me. They think I’m trash. A child of infidelity, and they’re right. What kind of pride can be taken in the way I came to be? I’m a baby born from only pain, hidden secretly until age twenty-one when I was destined to rise up and dishonor the memory of a ‘great man’ and bring his family to powdery ashes.
I jump up and run. From the headlines. From Jack. From me.
Leaping into the air, I throw my arms above me and dive into the pool’s sweet baptism. The sounds of the world morph into a vortex of blessed indiscernible nothingness. I breathe bubbles of air out, removing as much of my body’s buoyancy as possible, paddling my arms lightly to sink to the bottom and stay here. Down here lies escape. Nothing matters. Not even me. Especially not me.
I’ve been spinning ever since I awoke to discover Jack announcing mysteriously from my doorstep that I’d be hearing from his lawyer. I’ve been caught in a tornado of insecurity and excitement, ego and pride, freedom and fear. And underneath those, I’ve been trying to fit in just like I promised myself I wouldn’t. I’ve been reaching beyond my own truth in a vain attempt to become an idea.
I’ve
A loud SLAP wakes me from the wonderful dream I was having about whales. My head jerks at the sound and I crane my neck to see Jack glowering above me, silhouetted by the early-afternoon sun.
I can recognize fury when I see it, so I sigh loudly in annoyance, “What is it now, Jack?”
Without even so much as a hello, he snaps, “Look, nimrod.”
I twist my spine and blink at a copy of US Magazine that’s skewed against my side. With a start, I snatch up the glossy paper, sitting upright as I cry, “No!”
Staring back at me is an old Stone family photo, before Max’s death. My father . I still can’t identify him in that way without feeling like I’m in a Twilight Zone episode. But the horrifying part is that superimposed over the top right of this famous family picture is me, dancing on the bar back in New York in my magic blue dress, my arms thrust out in front of me like Superman. Headline: Stone Family’s Billions Squandered By Bastard Surprise.
“Oh no,” I moan, feeling the air in my lungs begin to spin.
“Oh yes,” my new brother sneers, dropping a fluttering pile of periodicals to add to my nightmare. Some are American, others are from Spain, France, Britain, and Canada. One after the other, I scan their covers and toss them aside, overcome by a debilitating nausea. In most, I’m with Sean and Jack and the look on my face is so cold, I come off as an ice queen bitch. On three covers is the photo taken at my apartment, the one we posed for. The boys look great with their practiced smirks, but in this, I look absolutely terrified.
Maxwell Stone Gave The Nanny More Than A Tip
“No. Oh no no no no no no.” I moan, unable to stop looking.
Saints Jack and Sean Stone Accept Bastard Baby Sister
Another Nanny Breaks Up Home–Costs Family Millions
Rue Calliwell Squanders Inheritance on Booze and Men
Staring at the image of Jack’s and my hand clasped tight, my stomach twists. Just Siblings? asks the headline.
With water rippling off her hair, Jenna returns from a swim in the pool leaving a trail of watery footprints behind her. “What’s up? Oh my GOD!” She grabs one of the magazines, then another. Then another.
Stripping my eyes away from a photo of Alec holding me as we plowed through the mob at the Hyatt, I look over to Jenna who’s sitting on the chair next to mine with her eyes huge and horrified. She holds up People Magazine and shrugs, trying to see the silver lining. “At least you look good.” I read the headline: Olivia Calliwell, Billionaire’s Nanny, Made More Than His Beds.
My hand flies to my throat as hot tears lash my eyes. Jenna goes white, realizing how much this has pierced me. “Rue, I’m sorry…”
I barely hear her. They’re saying everything Jack’s been thinking, completely validating his treatment of me. They think I’m trash. A child of infidelity, and they’re right. What kind of pride can be taken in the way I came to be? I’m a baby born from only pain, hidden secretly until age twenty-one when I was destined to rise up and dishonor the memory of a ‘great man’ and bring his family to powdery ashes.
I jump up and run. From the headlines. From Jack. From me.
Leaping into the air, I throw my arms above me and dive into the pool’s sweet baptism. The sounds of the world morph into a vortex of blessed indiscernible nothingness. I breathe bubbles of air out, removing as much of my body’s buoyancy as possible, paddling my arms lightly to sink to the bottom and stay here. Down here lies escape. Nothing matters. Not even me. Especially not me.
I’ve been spinning ever since I awoke to discover Jack announcing mysteriously from my doorstep that I’d be hearing from his lawyer. I’ve been caught in a tornado of insecurity and excitement, ego and pride, freedom and fear. And underneath those, I’ve been trying to fit in just like I promised myself I wouldn’t. I’ve been reaching beyond my own truth in a vain attempt to become an idea.
I’ve
Similar Books
