TRAINWRECK 2: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Inspired by a True Event Read online

  Nelle L’Amour

  Copyright © 2016 by Nelle L’Amour

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved

  First Edition: May 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental.

  No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this ebook at the authorized online outlets.

  Nelle L’Amour thanks you for your understanding and support.

  TO JOIN MY MAILING LIST FOR NEW RELEASES AND SALES, PLEASE SIGN UP HERE:

  http://eepurl.com/N3AXb

  Cover by Arijana Karcic, Cover It! Designs

  Proofreading by Mary Jo Toth

  Formatting by BB eBooks

  Unforgettable

  Unforgettable Book 1

  Unforgettable Book 2

  Unforgettable Book 3

  Unforgettable: The Complete Series (Box Set)

  THAT MAN Series

  THAT MAN 1

  THAT MAN 2

  THAT MAN 3

  THAT MAN 4

  THAT MAN 5

  THAT MAN TRILOGY (Box Set)

  THAT MAN: THE WEDDING STORY (Box Set)

  Gloria

  Gloria’s Secret

  Gloria’s Revenge

  Gloria’s Forever

  Gloria’s Secret: The Trilogy (Box Set)

  An Erotic Love Story

  Undying Love

  Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire

  Strangers on a Train

  Derailed

  Final Destination

  Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire Box Set

  Writing under E.L. Sarnoff

  DEWITCHED: The Untold Story of the Evil Queen

  UNHITCHED: The Untold Story of the Evil Queen 2

  Dearest Reader~

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading TRAINWRECK 1. I hope you equally love the steamy and suspenseful conclusion, TRAINWRECK 2. These books have been a labor of love for me as I got to re-visit my very first erotic romance series and relive Sarah and Ari’s passionate love story and make it even better.

  I have many people to thank who helped me along the way. A big shout out to the following:

  *My incredible beta team who didn’t hold back and gave me so many great notes and suggestions. I love you ladies! In alphabetical order, they include Tami Czenkus, Gloria Herrera, Shannon Meadows, Jenn Moshe, Karen Silverstein, Jeanette Sinfield, and Joanna Warren. I also want to acknowledge fellow writer, Arianne Richmonde, who likewise provided her insightful and honest input.

  *My amazing assistant, Gloria Herrera, who in addition to providing beta notes did a final proof before I sent these babies into the world. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She does so much for me, including all those fantastic graphics you see on Facebook. And I should mention, she inspired the fabulous TRAINWRECK covers. She keeps me sane and her wickedly dirty mind makes laugh and keeps me inspired. I adore her!

  *My wonderful proofreader, Mary Jo Toth, who somehow finds all those pesky typos I always miss.

  *My ever so talented cover artist, Arijana Karcic/Cover IT! Designs, who always gives me the best covers in the world! (Wait till you see the next one!! It’s totally gorgeous!)

  *My patient formatter, Paul Salvette/BB eBooks who makes my book interiors beautiful and a pleasure to read.

  *The lovely Kylie McDermott and George Turney/Give Me Books Promotions, who tirelessly organized my Cover Reveal, Chapter Reveal, and Release Blitz. I love you, ladies!

  *All the hard-working bloggers, who work with Give Me Books to get my books out to readers and give me so much support.

  *All my fantastic ARC readers, who read and reviewed TRAINWRECK and helped spread the word. I have the best ARC team in the world!

  *My family, who patiently put up with me, and especially my hubby (the one who thinks he’s THAT MAN, Blake Burns), who selflessly picked up so much of the mommy slack. LOL! He may not be Blake, but he’s still my #1 man!

  *Last but not least, my readers. A special thank you to those who encouraged me to write TRAINWRECK as well as to those who have written wonderful reviews, sent me heartfelt emails, and PM’d me on Facebook. To all of you, you are the reason I write!

  Finally, before I take up too much of your reading time, I must acknowledge one other person—the gorgeous golden-haired Adonis, who inspired this story and my writing career. Thank you for that one life-changing, unforgettable encounter. I wish I could go back in time. You will always be my beautiful Trainman.

  Happy Reading, my belles!

  MWAH!~Nelle ♥

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  For all those who believe in love at first sight…

  Sometimes a single encounter can stay with you forever.

  trainwreck:

  a total fucking disaster…the kind that makes you want to shake your head

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Books by Nelle L’Amour

  A Note from Nelle and Acknowledgments

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Gloria’s Secret

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  GLORIA’S REVENGE

  THAT MAN

  UNFORGETTABLE

  Other Books by Nelle L’Amour

  About the Author

  Ari

  Three Years Earlier

  “Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Goodnight night noises…”

  “Everywhere!” shouted out my adorable three-year-old son Benjamin as I got to the end of his favorite book, Goodnight Moon. He knew every word by heart as did I; I could practically recite it to him by heart. But there was nothing like reading him a children’s book, turning the pages together, and looking at the charming pictures. It was one of our nightly rituals.

  I closed the book and, sitting by his side, tucked my little one into his cozy bed, and made sure his favorite toy, his Green Power Ranger, was tucked in beside him. I drank him in. He was a spitting golden-haired version of me, except he had his mother’
s wide-set green eyes. Something that would regrettably always make me think of her.

  “Daddy, can you read me another story?” begged Ben. “Please?”

  Usually, I readily gave into his request, but tonight I had too much on my mind.

  “Not tonight, buddy,” I replied, trying to mask my anxiety.

  “Where’s Mommy?”

  It pained me that he still loved his mother so much. My chest tightened. I hated that question. There were only two answers—either recklessly clubbing somewhere or passed out on the couch.

  “She’s working,” I lied.

  “Mommy works too much.”

  Actually, the problem was she didn’t work at all. Or at least, not any longer. After giving birth to Ben, everything had changed. She had never gotten over her postpartum depression and every day, sank deeper. She spent her days sleeping and her nights boozing. Opening bottles was about the only activity she could manage these days. Vodka. One glass after another until the bottle was consumed—that along with tranquilizers and sleeping pills—and she was passed out somewhere. She’d gone into rehab twice but had regressed shortly afterward each time. The time for us to end our once fairy-tale marriage had come.

  “Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite,” I told my son before giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Daddy and Mommy love you from here to the moon and back.”

  I hated saying that last line. It was such a lie. But my shrink told me it was important for our son to feel loved by both parents even though my wife was an absentee mother, totally indifferent to the needs of our child. Actually, indifferent didn’t quite cut it. She was oblivious to his needs and had no interest whatsoever in taking care of him. Thank God, I had a wonderful housekeeper who was able to double as a nanny to fill in for her and give him the maternal attention he so coveted and lacked.

  One more hug followed by an exchange of “I love you”, and I turned off his light. I crept quietly out of his room, leaving the door slightly open the way he liked it. I kept the hall light on, the beam helping him with his fear of the dark as did his treasured Power Ranger. Man, I loved this kid. More than anything or anyone. I’d kill for him in a heartbeat.

  The hallway of my spacious Upper East Side apartment was long, and along the way, I passed a console table filled with family photos. A large framed photo of Cassandra and me on our wedding day dominated the grouping, which also included several Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue covers. A shudder rippled through me. How happy we looked! How beautiful she was. The golden couple with a gilded life ahead of them. Now that was going to be over. I swallowed down the rage I harbored toward her. The rage that had replaced the crazy passion we’d once had. Or maybe it was just youthful lust. Impulsively, I turned the photo around before heading to the kitchen. At the thought of the impending future, butterflies swarmed my stomach and a chill swept through me.

  Despite my queasiness, I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten all day. Just hours before, my sister had drawn up the final divorce papers and served them to her. I knew exactly where my soon-to-be ex would be at six p.m. on a Friday—at the Bergdorf’s spa, having her weekly facial, massage, and manicure—the only activities she could muster these days other than boozing and popping pills.

  I glanced down at my watch before opening the refrigerator. Eight p.m. My heart hammered. She’d likely be home soon to get ready for a night of clubbing. Total debauchery. With this thought on my mind, I pulled out the roast beef our housekeeper, Luisa, had made earlier for dinner along with a bottle of Dijon mustard and a beer. Too on edge to heat it up or to make myself a dinner plate, I decided to make a quick sandwich. A baguette was sitting on the counter. Grabbing it, I ambled to the corner where the cutting board and a set of expensive knives—a wedding present—were kept. Placing the platter of cold roast beef down on the granite counter and the baguette on the board, I reached for one of the knives and sliced open the bread. The sharp ten-inch blade easily cut through the crusty loaf. I then began to slice the meat.

  “What the fuck, you asshole! How dare you?”

  A shrill familiar voice pierced the dimly lit room, over shadowing the clickety-clack of her heels. Fuck. Cassandra was home earlier than expected. Dropping the knife on the counter, I turned around and faced her. I soaked her in.

  There was no doubt in my mind that madness consumed her. Her eyes flickered with rage, and her nostrils flared with each heavy breath. Had she been drinking? I wasn’t sure. One thing was certain: she was a far cry from the svelte beauty I’d once fallen head over heels in love with and married. Her skin was blotchy, her hair disheveled, and her designer clothes looked like they might burst through the seams on her bloated body.

  “Cassandra, it’s the only choice I had. Our marriage is over.”

  “It’s all that damn kid’s fault. I never wanted him.”

  My blood boiled. “Please don’t involve him. He’s only three.”

  “Fuck that little bastard.”

  Her words cut through me like a knife to my heart, but I’d learned from her therapists that she projected her own self-loathing onto both Ben and me. The frightening life or death incident that had occurred only a few weeks ago had been the final straw. Drunk out of her mind, she’d shoved our precious son to the floor, knocking him unconscious. The image of my beautiful little boy lying in a coma, hooked up to all kinds of beeping machines and IVs, sent rage pulsing through my bloodstream.

  “It’s not his fault. Leave him out of this,” I pleaded as she stomped my way.

  “I hate you! Don’t think I’m leaving that easily!”

  “Lower your voice. You’re going to wake him up.”

  “Fuck him. I hate that little brat.”

  “Daddy. Mommy. I can’t sleep. You’re making too much noise.”

  My heart leaped into my throat. My little Ben, clad in his SpongeBob pajamas and clutching his favorite toy, was standing at the doorway. Had he heard what she just said?

  “Go back to your room, Ben,” I urged, praying he hadn’t. An innocent three-year-old didn’t belong in the middle of this ugly crossfire.

  “Go to hell, you little brat!” Cassandra made a sharp turn on her heel. “Or you’re going to get it!” And then she grabbed the knife.

  My heart raced. Shit. What was she going to do to him now? Hadn’t she hurt him enough? Before taking my next breath, I yanked her back by her elbow. Jerking free of me, she spun around to face me again, the wretched smell of alcohol hot on her breath.

  “You fucker!”

  And then I groaned as white-hot pain surged through my body like a bolt of lightning. A liquid like lava seeped down my back. My vision blurred; my legs grew weak. A muddle of laughter, screams, and sobs filled my ears as stars filled my spinning head.

  “Daddy, daddy! You all right?”

  “See you in court. Or not.”

  I was collapsing, struggling to hold on to the counter edge for support. The searing pain unbearable. That deadly clickety-clack of heels sounded again in my ears. But mostly, they were drowned out by a little boy crying.

  Somehow, I managed to take my cell phone out of my pants pocket and speed dial one number before I crumpled to the floor. A wailing little voice kept me alive.

  Then, everything faded to black.

  ###♥###

  Present

  “Where to, Mr. Golden?”

  At the sound of the smooth baritone voice, I snapped my eyes open.

  My head was spinning and my heart was beating a hundred miles a minute. And beneath my shirt, sweat was pouring. I felt like I was close to having a panic attack. I had just relived the worst night of my life. And now I was living the second worse night.

  My fucking ex, Cassandra, was back! And the poison was flowing. She had already contaminated my relationship with Sarah. Spoiled our perfect evening. She had made Sarah sick, not the mussels. I’m positive. I should have followed Sarah up to her apartment, but my urgent desire to see that my son was safe overpowered me.

  “We
ll, sir?” repeated my driver, Andre.

  “Home. Floor it!” Flooring it in Manhattan was like asking for rain in the desert. But if anyone could race through the city, it was Andre.

  I no longer lived in the apartment I had shared with Cassandra, and to the best of my knowledge, she didn’t know where I now lived, but fear ate away at me. I couldn’t underestimate what she was capable of. As soon as Andre peeled off from the curve, I pulled out my phone and speed dialed Luisa to find out if everything was okay. She assured me that everything was good and that Ben was peacefully sound asleep. I let out a deep sigh of relief. Thank fucking god. Before ending the call, I told her I’d be home soon and to be sure the door was double-locked and that the security system was on. And to absolutely not let anyone up to the apartment. Without questioning me, she agreed to everything and bid me goodnight.

  The next call I made was to my sister. Not telling her at all about my dinner date with Sarah, I told her about Cassandra.

  “Jesus.”

  “Gwen, I thought she wasn’t allowed back in the country.”

  “Technically, she’s not, but there’s a way around everything. She must have used a fake identity and passport.”

  “Is there anything you can do?”

  “Ari, did you find out where she lives? Or what name she goes under?”

  “No.” Shit. And then I remembered something. “I ran into Lisa Kent the other day, and she told me she saw someone at the Bergdorf’s spa who looked almost identical to Cassandra. It must have been her.”

  I went on to tell her that my ex’s former shoulder-length blond hair was now waist-length and jet-black and that she’d likely had some face work done, including injecting her lips to make them fuller and removing the little bump on her nose that she’d always hated. She listened attentively.

  “Well, that’s a starting point, but we don’t have much to go on. I’ll put a few of my private investigators on it and see if we can track her down. I wouldn’t be surprised if she frequents all her old haunts.”

  A small burst of relief surged inside me. No one was smarter than my sister. “What should I do in the meantime?”

  “Ari, the woman is a psychopath. She’s dangerous…capable of anything. I think you need a bodyguard and so does Ben. She hates your son more than she hates you—blames him for her breakdown and the demise of your marriage—and she could seek revenge.”