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  Books by Lilliana Anderson

  Confidante: The Brothel

  A Beautiful Struggle

  A Beautiful Forever

  Coming Soon

  Alter (May 2013)

  Confidante: The Escort (June 2013)

  Confidante: The Madame

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  A Beautiful Forever

  Lilliana Anderson

  2013

  Copyright 2013, Lilliana Anderson

  All rights reserved

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various places/products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission and is by no way sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Dedication –

  To Lana, for always being wonderful

  ‘Would you leave me, if I told you what I've done?

  And would you need me, if I told you what I've become?

  – No Light, No Light. Florence and the Machine

  Foreward

  The moment I sent A Beautiful Struggle out into the world I started to get emails, reviews and personal messages telling me that I broke the reader’s heart by breaking Katrina and Elliot up. So despite the fact that it was supposed to be a standalone book, I decided to write a sequel. I had been toying with the idea of writing Elliot’s story but it didn’t really come to life until I realisedthat the girl for him was one that I had already started writing about in a manuscript I had originally titled ‘Superfluous Me’ – that idea had stalled because her knight in shining armor hadn’t revealed himself to me yet.

  The moment I realized that Elliot was the guy for her, the story took off and my fingers started flying all over the keyboard. This book is solely about Elliot and Paige – there is no third wheel here. This is simply a representation of all they have to overcome to be together. Hopefully, you’ll love them as much as I do.

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost I must thank all of the Beta readers and Advanced reviewers who agreed to look over this book.

  Mary – who was my constant sounding board during my re-writes, Betchiva, Pati, Alyssa, Wendy, Isabel, Ginnie, Jenny, Crystal, April, Sara, ‘Brazillian Girl’, Anne, Liona, Kristy and the very enthusiastic Nancy (I loved your email and I’ll keep it always!!)

  Whether, you loved it, hated it, or just couldn’t find the time to read it – I still greatly appreciate the support you gave me, no matter how small.

  A big thank you also to my ‘Reader Valentine’ Celsey, who spend the month of February promoting my work to earn herself a cameo within this book. Love you!

  I also want to thank my family, especially my husband for supporting me while I write. My husband listened to my ideas and gave me great story suggestions, and held my hand while I bit my fingernails nervously while I waited for reviews to come back.

  The very last thank you is to you, the person reading right now – you are the whole entire reason that I have worked so hard to create this book. Enjoy.

  Prologue

  Elliot

  Encouraging the sweaty, grunting man in front of me to tuck his knees closer to his chest as he does mountain climbers, I distractedly scan the people and the scenery in the Royal Botanic Gardens, Sydney, as I do every time I bring a client here.

  That’s when I finally see her, her movement is unmistakable as she runs in a rhythmic pace along the path in front of me. The two years I spent trying to get over her just fell away like I didn’t even live them, and I’m taken right back to where I was, wanting her, wishing I could touch her.

  Holding my breath, I watch her, her pony tail swinging from side to side as her feet hit the concrete. When she turns her head in my direction, a gripping pain creeps over my chest, constricting my airways when I see the recognition steal over her face.

  I was kind of hoping she’d run past me, so I could convince myself I was seeing things, but no such luck. She’s stopped running and is smiling brightly at me. My stomach flips in response while my arm automatically waves at her. All of a sudden, I hear myself telling my client that I’ll be back in a minute, as my feet propel me toward her.

  Katrina is standing with her hands on her hips grinning at me as I approach. I have so much I want to say to her, but mostly I just want to touch her again. My body is screaming at me to reach out. But I don’t.

  “What’s this?” she asks me immediately, indicating the logo on my shirt. I smile to myself - she’s never been one to mince words. She seems exactly the same, like I only saw her yesterday.

  Looking at my shirt, I chuckle uncomfortably. “I’m a personal trainer now,” I inform her.

  Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “What? What about becoming a barrister?”

  Still smiling I shake my head from side to side, “That was my father’s dream for me. After you left, I did a lot of soul-searching and decided to make my own path,” I answer, scanning her body, drinking in every little detail.

  “Wow, that’s amazing Elliot. I'm really happy for you.”

  My eyes land on her left hand, and my chest tightens as I see the ring she now wears. Swallowing the ball that has suddenly lodged itself firmly in my throat, I say, “Looks like congratulations is owed to you as well. Is that from David?”

  She looks at her hand briefly, like she needs to confirm that we’re looking at the same thing and gives me a small nod. “Oh thank you, the wedding is a while off, but everything else is great.” Giving me a tight smile, she meets my eyes and places her hand back on her hip. “How about you? How are things with you?”

  I look into her face, searching for some semblance of the way she used to look at me, but there's nothing there. I shift a little uneasily on my feet, suddenly feeling slightly sick in the guts.

  Clearing my throat, I finally answer her, “Well, I don’t really speak to my dad anymore – which really is a good thing; and I’m seeing someone now. It took a while – and she’s not you... but things are ok. I’m certainly not ready for a commitment like that yet,” I say, nodding at that bloody ring again, I’m trying to sound okay with it, but it hurts. It's like my brain is swelling and throbbing against my skull from the sight of it.

  She seems completely unfazed by seeing me and just stands there smiling like we’re buddies. Her eyes shift to look over my shoulder, where I’m sure my client is still waiting. “Well, I had better let you get back to it,” she says, starting to back away from me. I hate feeling like this. It's like she’s tearing a part of me off the further she steps. “It was nice to see you again Evan.”

  I laugh, but it makes this really hollow and empty sound. I don’t mean for it to come out that way, but I’m feeling a little bitter right now.

  “You too Katrina. I'll see you around, if not – have a great life!” I smile on only one side of my face and run back to my client, forcing my feet every step and refusing to let myself turn around.

  I don’t chance a look at her again until after I’ve told my client what his next exercise is. My guts are churning as I watch her run away, but I can’t stop staring. She doesn’t even look back.

  I just lied to her. I'm not seeing anyone. Truth is I haven’t dated anyone in the two years since her. I fucked around a lot, which is really out of characte
r for me, but I just wanted to try to get her out of my head. It never helped because every time I closed my eyes, I dreamed about our time together – it was fucking perfect, and I destroyed it because I was too much of a pussy to stand up to my dad.

  Now she’s engaged and I’ve got no chance, I guess I could pursue her and try to change her mind – but there is something about the way she just looked at me that tells me it would be a waste of time. Plus, she seems happy and I’m not a home wrecker. At the end of the day, David is a good guy, and they have a lot of history. I'm sure they’ll be disgustingly blissful together.

  “Elliot,” my client snaps me back from my thoughts. “What’s next?”

  Dragging my eyes from watching Katrina’s figure fade into the distance, I tell him that it is time to cool down. We go for a run in the opposite direction. I don’t trust myself not to chase her down.

  Chapter 1

  Paige

  “My family are all dead,” I reply to the well-meaning lady sitting next to me. She’s just trying to make conversation to pass the time as we fly half way across the world from Sydney, Australia to Heathrow Airport in the UK.

  “Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that,” she stammers out, now not sure what to say. She looks at me, her mouth moving up and down like she's a goldfish caught out of water. Her jowly cheeks are wobbling, and her eyes are darting nervously around as she searches for something else to say.

  “It’s fine. I just don’t like to talk about it,” I tell her, looking out the window at the passing clouds. I don’t like to talk about it because it isn’t true. As far as I know, my family are all alive and well, they just don’t speak to me after kicking me out when I was fifteen. I have taken to telling people they're dead – because that’s how it feels to me. I used to say that they don’t talk to me anymore, but what does that say about me? The one that was cast out. It says no one loved me enough to fight for me, that I’m too much trouble to put up with. It’s better if I say they’re dead – it makes me lucky to be the one who’s still alive.

  Staring out the window, I watch the clouds roll by below us, like a fluffy white and grey blanket that I so desperately want to touch. The woman turns her attention to the guy sitting on the other side of her and starts to ask him questions about his life instead. I've made her uncomfortable. I have probably made everyone within earshot uncomfortable.

  Pressing the buds of my headphones inside my ears, I scroll through my music and select an album. I’m really into 90’s alternative music right now so I choose Custard’s Wahooti Fandango. ‘Teensville’ starts floating into my ears as I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. I keep the sound at a level that is just enough to mask the sounds of the plane but quiet enough to lull me off to sleep.

  Elliot

  Seriously, I just want to go to sleep. Although, this woman sitting next to me won’t stop yammering in my ear. I’m trying to listen and answer her politely, but I have been awake for over 20 hours now, and I’m really struggling.

  My eyes stray towards the girl sitting in the window seat, her hair has fallen forward to cover most of her face as she sleeps at an awkward angle against the window. I so wish I was her right now.

  “Is London the end of your journey?” the woman asks, leaning slightly so her face blocks my view.

  I nod my head and exaggerate a yawn. “It is, how about you?”

  “Oh no, I'm going to travel onto Scotland. My sister lives there, in Dundee, I’m going to stay with her for a whole month!”

  Opening my mouth, I exaggerate another yawn and add some sleepy eyes in this time for good measure.

  “You poor boy, I’m keeping you up. I’m sorry; I don’t sleep very well without one of these,” she tells me as she takes a packet of sleeping pills out of her bag and puts one in her mouth, swallowing it dry. “I’ll be quiet now. You sleep.”

  Gratefully, I close my eyes. Exhaustion washes through my body, and I drift off.

  Paige

  In my dream, there’s a bear growling outside. I’m aware it’s a dream because Australia doesn’t have bears in the wild, so it confuses me to hear one. My consciousness moves forward as the rumbling sounds vibrate through me. It’s the sounds of the plane and…. snoring? My eyes flutter open and I remove the buds from my ears, the album I was listening to long since over, and turn my head toward the exasperating noise.

  The woman who was talking to me earlier has her head tilted back, her mouth is wide open and the noise is emanating from her throat. I squint at her, willing her with my mind to stir enough so the noise will stop. When she starts making a small choking sound, I flinch, surprised and slightly impressed with my new mind control ability as she quiets and her breathing evens out.

  I breathe out slowly - glad the noise is over; and move to replace the buds in my ears. But I’m paused, my reprieve all too brief, as my skull starts vibrating when she starts up again – so much for my awesome mind control skills…

  I cross my eyes in agitation and reach my hand toward her, clamping my fingers on either side of her nose. She makes a guttural sound, and I withdraw my hand quickly, looking out the window and pretending nothing happened. I start counting seconds as I wait to see if it worked, feeling safe when I reach a full minute in silence.

  “Thank god,” I say to myself as I lean my head back against the window. The second I begin to relax however, she starts up again.

  The guy on the other side of her starts laughing, and I find myself smiling as I lean forward to look at him.

  He's quite frankly, the most beautiful man I have ever seen but looks almost too large to be in such a small seat. His long legs are angled so that one is in the aisle, and the other is wedged in the minute gap between the seats in front of him. He has broad firm shoulders that span further than the width of the seat. His hair is light golden brown and a little longer than I like on guy, but it kind of suits him. He’s wearing a good day or two worth of stubble - which I’ll admit is a bit on the sexy side. But it’s his eyes that are most striking. They look like someone took the clearest, bluest part of the ocean and dropped it into his irises.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not laughing at you. I've been trying to make her stop snoring for ages. I’m laughing at the situation.”

  He’s smiling at me; his smile is textbook perfect and creases the corners of his eyes that are watering a little from his laughter. It’s a killer smile - if I hadn’t sworn myself off men years ago, I think I’d go all fluttery over him.

  Elliot

  I can’t stop laughing. Tears are streaming out of my eyes, and I wipe at them as this girl keeps looking at me. She’s a stunner, with masses of curly dark-brown hair, olive skin, a full pouty mouth and amazing eyes – they kind of look like a piece of amber. They're hazel in the middle, flecked brown with a thick dark edge before her whites come into play. They’re pretty awesome, and I don’t mind that she’s studying me, because it gives me a good look at them.

  I just wish I could stop laughing because I feel like a fool, but I’m so tired I can’t seem to control myself.

  I take a deep breath to try and still my shaking body. “I’m sorry,” I say again once I calm myself a little, “I think I’m becoming delirious from lack of sleep.”

  “So you’ve been trying to stop her as well?” she asks me, ignoring my fits of laughter.

  Wiping the last of my tears away, I nod and tell her, “She took a tablet a while back and no matter what I do she still snores.”

  “Great,” is all she says as she sits back forcefully in the seat, she’s quiet for a beat before saying, “Listen, I need to get away from her before I go mental. Can you get up, so I can climb out?”

  “Sure,” I say, moving my legs to the side and standing in the aisle. As she stands up, I notice that she’s a decent height – probably hitting just above my shoulder. She’s wearing almost the same as me, light blue jeans and a fitted t-shirt, although where mine is plain black, hers is white and has a picture of two chick
ens dressed up in Mexican styled clothes leaning up against each other and the words ‘LOS POLLOS HERMANOS’ written in a circle around them.

  I recognise the logo from Breaking Bad, “I love that show,” I say, indicating her shirt with a nod of my head.

  Without responding, she puts her foot on her seat and hunches over as she climbs over our snoring companion and on to my chair. I put my hand out to steady her, but she doesn’t take it. She just steps down from my seat and says ‘thanks’ before walking towards the back of the plane. I catch a glimpse of a tattoo when she adjusts her shirt, before my eyes drift below it to her arse as she walks down the aisle. It’s one of those firm round arses that sways as she walks, whether she’s meaning to do it or not – it’s hot, and kind of mesmerising. I feel a slight shift in my pants as I’m suddenly wondering if I could get her to join the ‘mile high club’.

  I laugh a little through my nose as I scratch at the back of my head and retake my seat, she wouldn’t be into that I’m sure. She showed no sign of attraction what so ever, most girls would have gladly grabbed a hold of me if offered my arm. Besides, I need to stop that shit, I’ve lost count of the amount of girls I’ve screwed in that last couple of years, and I’ve become sick of it. It’s fucking hollow.

  It was so easy for me. I'd go to club and ask a girl to dance and the next thing I knew I was taking her home and screwing her brains out all night long. Some girls expected more from me the next morning, others just got up afterwards and left without a word. I didn’t give a shit about any of them, and I know I hurt the feelings of more than one, but I wasn’t thinking about them. I only cared about myself.

  Eventually, I took a girl home and realised I had been with her before, I’d been with her quite a few times actually, but I still didn’t know her name. I told her that I couldn’t go through with it and paid for a cab to take her home. That was when I decided I was done, I’d had enough of night clubs, and I’d had enough of treating women like my own personal harem, picking and choosing them as I saw fit. It was crappy of me, and I hate myself for it.