MInE: A Hate Story Read online

  Table of Contents

  YOUR NEXT READ

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  MORE DARKNESS FROM ANDIE

  ALSO BY ANDIE M. LONG

  ABOUT ANDIE

  Contents

  YOUR NEXT READ

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  MORE DARKNESS FROM ANDIE

  ALSO BY ANDIE M. LONG

  ABOUT ANDIE

  YOUR NEXT READ

  MInE

  A hate story.

  by

  Andie M. Long

  COPYRIGHT

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

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Copyright (c) 2017 by Andrea Long

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by Anna Crosswell at Cover Couture

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to

  Annmarie Bradley

  My friend who at the beginning designed my covers, teasers, did The Alphabet Game trailer and sent me a pen saying budding author, the ink of which just ran dry.

  She posted a photo of a guy and said she’d love it if someone wrote a book about him. It took me two years before I wrote The End but I did it.

  I apologise for the fact he’s a dick…

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This list gets longer! So much work goes into a book. The following people help me stay sane and support the journey from first draft to published book.

  After spending forever on rewrites, it goes off to my alpha and beta readers: Susan Bagshaw, Nikki Levy, my sister Maz, Ruth Loizides, and Kim Sutton. Thank you for reading this so many times. I appreciate that it was a mind fuck.

  Then it’s off to Michelle Dunbar, editor extraordinaire. Your corrections and suggestions are always awesome and if it wasn’t for you characters would be in alleyways one minute and shop doorways the next!

  On return and edits made, its a proofread from myself and then my mother Dianne will give it a once over to see what I’ve missed. So thank you mum for your eagle eyes. Then it’s back to me and a final proofread.

  But a book’s not ready without a cover and for this I’d like to thank Anna Crosswell of Cover Couture for the delightful premade that she added the custom tattoos to, to make this a hot, WOW, cover that has received so many compliments.

  Now I need to thank the people who come after. The members of my review team and hangout, the newsletter subscribers, my fellow authors, bloggers, family and friends. Thank you for all your support.

  Last and most certainly not least, for sending the Ninja in on a daily basis to kick my ass - my bestie Nikki “ETM” Levy. You’re becoming as blonde as I am babe, but that’s okay, pahahaha!

  Until the next book.

  Andie xxx

  PART ONE

  MELISSA

  CHAPTER ONE

  SAM

  30 August 2014

  People are abhorrent. Before, I was tolerant, friendly, with the human emotion of wishing to be liked, adored even. I thought I was. What a stupid, ignorant bitch. Now as people talk, I watch their mouths twist into different shapes as they deliver their subjective wisdom. If only they knew that while I pick up on small phrases I can acknowledge with a small smile or a nod of my head, my mind visualises wrapping my hands around their neck and squeezing until their eyes bulge, blood vessels bursting, and they beg for their life. Why not think of that the next time you speak to your friends. Is what you’re saying so important that you’d fight to speak it if denied your breath?

  I spend hours studying people. Like the fat woman who just stuffed half a pasty in her mouth with one great push of her hand. Don’t judge me. I have no problem with anyone’s appearance. I wasn’t always this slim. What makes my face grimace is the inelegance of how she ate it. I want to force my fingers down her throat and make her throw up every morsel. I’d show her the regurgitated lumps where the food remained solid because she couldn’t take the time to chew or taste her food. Then I’d make her eat it again, this time with style.

  Then there are the clone-like faces of the technological revolution. Robotic on their bus seats. Tap, tap, tap, go their fingers. I’ll sit near them, smirking. They’re unaware of me considering how I could stab them, and they’d never see it coming. Their puckered mouths would form an O as I smiled and rang the bell. I’d depart the bus, leaving them bleeding with no one the wiser as they’re all too busy telling relatives they are on the bus, playing candy crush, or seeing what amazing statuses their fake friends have posted on social media. People they’ve never met get more acknowledgement than I do, although I travel with them every day.

  But I distract myself. I have a story to tell. Because I wasn’t always like this. Once, I was kind. Before him.

  ‘S-Sam?’

  I blink and come to. Remember where I am. I’d lost myself for a minute there.

  I sigh. What sort of therapist stutters? Mine has sweat pouring down his face for fuck's sake.

  The room is an ambient temperature. Light wo
uld enter the room from the small window if the blind weren't closed. My fingers grip the edge of my chair as I attempt to control myself.

  My therapist wipes the sweat off his forehead with a shaky hand. He disgusts me. He needs a good wash.

  ‘So, Sam. Would you like to tell me why you are h-here?’

  I smile. I should try to keep hold of my emotions, but I can’t help myself. A laugh threatens to break. Instead, a smile hurts my cheek as it stretches my face.

  ‘I think therapy will be so much fun. I can’t wait to explore my fucked-up mind with you.’

  A flash of terror crosses his face. A brief moment before his cold mask returns. But that one glimpse of fear makes my pussy wet.

  His Adam’s apple rises and falls. ‘So, you made this appointment Sam. Where do you want to begin?’

  I push my tongue into my cheek and consider my position while I stare at him. Then I sit up straight, and a smirk teases the edge of my lips a second time. ‘I’ll tell you how I met Edward. I think that’s as good a place as any to start.’

  The adrenaline pumps through my veins. It feels good. It’s been a long time since I felt in charge. Like I was winning.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SAM

  July 2013

  It’s my first day of employment at Bailey’s Accountants. The interview had been a breeze. Take a middle-aged man called Jacobs and present him with a slim, blue-eyed blonde. I’d run my fingers through my cropped hair. Thought about the questions asked while placing a finger against my perfect pout. I repeatedly flicked my tongue against perfect white teeth. Let’s face it, he wasn’t appraising me for the post, he imagined my mouth around his cock. I’d kept my skirt knee-length, but it still seemed inappropriate given the length of my legs. During the interview, I’d crossed and uncrossed my gym bunny calves so he could imagine them wrapped around him, squeezing out his orgasm. A perfectly orchestrated interview. I conducted myself impeccably, and so here I am – PA to Mr Edward Bonham. Bon Homme, good man. We’ll see about that. I was surprised the man himself hadn’t interviewed me but as I came to find out, assistants weren’t that important to him.

  I’m inducted to the job and given passwords to the computer systems. Introductions to other staff members are made. I’ve yet to work out who can assist me and who’ll try to thwart me. Has he already fucked any of the staff here? Or does he keep his private life separate? That’s what I’m here to discover.

  First day. First mistake. I’m bawled out of his office for disturbing him before eight am. I’d thought I’d get brownie points for being early and efficient.

  I storm into the staff room to get myself a drink of iced water. My hand shakes as I press and hold the ice button. Kerry, one of the other personal assistants, mistakes it for nerves rather than the murderous anger coursing through my veins.

  ‘Did no one tell you about Mr Bonham’s morning routine?’ She bites on her bottom lip.

  I smile widely at her. If she sees it doesn’t reach my eyes, she doesn’t let on. ‘No, they didn’t.’

  ‘Gosh, sorry about that. Mr Bonham meditates for thirty minutes every morning. He’s never to be disturbed. I think it’s kind of like a ritual for him. Maybe he thinks it brings him luck? But for thirty minutes exactly, from eight to eight-thirty am he does it. Not one second outside of either time.’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘So, I’m working for a weirdo?’

  She shakes her head. ‘No. You’re working for one of the most focused men I’ve ever come across.’

  I see the change in her pupils as she speaks of him. Girl crush o’ clock.

  I lean against the sink, blocking Kerry from filling the kettle in her hand. ‘So, what’s he really like? What do you think of him? Anything else I should be aware of?’

  She stands and looks up at me through a thick fringe. ‘There are some rumours about him. They’re probably made up.’

  I move away from the sink, giving her access to fill her kettle. ‘Ooh, I love gossip. Tell me more.’

  She bites her lip again as she turns the tap. Spray shoots out and wets her blouse. She sighs. ‘I’m told he’s just as focused in the bedroom as he is at work.’

  ‘I thought he was married? He wears a ring.’

  ‘He is. She’s lovely. I think they’re madly in love still. Have been since the day they met apparently, but there are rumours about his extra-curricular activities. I’ve never seen anything but devotion to his wife though.’

  She gives another sigh, this time a dreamy one. ‘Anyway, I’d better get back. Jack – Mr Simpson – he’ll be wondering where his cup of tea is. I hope you enjoy your first day, Sam.’

  I smile again before speaking. ‘Thanks for the heads up. It’s appreciated. It’s hard being the new girl.’

  She nods and leaves the room.

  I pick up my drink of iced water, squeezing the plastic cup until it breaks apart in my hand. Water runs down my sleeve and drips onto the floor. I place ice in my mouth and hold it there until it burns my tongue. Pain. Now feeling focused, I throw the cup in the bin and return to the office.

  Edward is six-foot-two. He has short dark hair, longer at the top and shaved at the sides. Every morning before work he trains in the gym. He has muscles on muscles. For a man who’s going to turn fifty this year, he’s in prime condition. Information gleaned because I’ve now been stalking him for a long time. I know many, many things about Mr Edward Bonham. But I need to break into his inner circle. Being a watcher is not an option anymore. It’s time for action.

  I stroll into his office, with my head held high.

  ‘So, Sam, just so we can be clear -’

  I put my hand up. Palm facing him, fingers outstretched. ‘I’ve been briefed. My apologies. I wasn’t aware. I won’t set foot in the office until after eight-thirty am from now on.’

  He nods. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Just one thing though.’ I fix him with a direct stare. ‘I can take orders. I like order and I adore routine. But don’t ever raise your voice to me again.’

  He raises an eyebrow. ‘But I’m the boss.’

  I tilt my head, meeting his steely gaze. ‘There are ways to be a boss and losing control and shouting at staff isn’t one of them. I observed part of your meditation this morning. You seem like someone who prefers order and control in their life?’

  The corner of his mouth twists.

  ‘You can tell that by the fact I meditate in the morning?’

  ‘No. I can tell by the fact it has to start at eight am and end at eight-thirty am precisely. I can walk through that door at eight-thirty-one every morning should it please you.’

  He gasps and covers it quickly with a cough before he relaxes back in his seat. ‘A morning coffee anytime from eight-thirty to nine am is fine, depending on the meetings or work I have scheduled. I need my PA to be adaptable to my timetable.’

  ‘Noted. I’ll make you a coffee right now.’

  I head out of the room, but I don’t go straight to the staff room. I hover at the periphery of the door and watch him.

  He sits with his hand on his chin, absentmindedly stroking his jaw. Then he shakes his head and switches on his computer.

  I’m aware my own plans may take time. But that’s not a problem. There’s never been a rush.

  Back at my flat that evening, I prepared my usual salad. I also have a strict routine. Nothing but water passes my lips. From work, I’d visited the gym where my personal trainer put me through my paces for an hour. My evening ritual consisted of removing my blue contact lenses and then moisturising every part of my skin to keep it in pristine, soft, and supple condition. Next was to check my hair for root growth and apply dye if necessary. I did thirty minutes of yoga before bed and then prepared my work clothes for the next day, hanging them on the back of the bathroom door. Everything had to be perfectly so. All worked out and ordered. For every day was an act, a stage I’d prepared myself for. The performance had started.

  Present Day - 30 August 2014

>   ‘So why did you want to ruin this man?’ His voice is calm again, controlled, no stutter.

  I snigger. ‘You’re not a very experienced therapist, are you?’

  He looks at the floor.

  ‘Mr Therapist, we have to get to the crux of the matter slowly. You’re supposed to guide me towards discovering the answers for myself. I’m not just going to come out and tell you why I’ve done the things I’ve done.’ I leap up. ‘Do you know what? I don’t think this relationship is going to work out.’

  ‘No,’ he says firmly, through gritted teeth. ‘As you say, I’m the therapist. Let me direct you, and we’ll find the answers together.’

  I sit back in my seat and smile. It would seem my therapist has found his balls. I’ll delight in watching them retreat so far up he’s in agony.

  ‘Please continue, Sam. What happened next with Edward?’

  I smirk. ‘What indeed?’

  CHAPTER THREE

  SAM

  I knew it would be difficult to get to Ed. His discipline and regimented life meant that he didn’t have room for anything outside of work and home. This is where meticulous planning and research came in. I had to know exactly what buttons to push to get him to consider something outside of his schedule, painstakingly plotted out in his electronic diary. Luckily, I have a friend, Bobby, who’ll do anything for me.’ My eyes drift towards the blind. ‘He’s a friend I made some time ago. We’ll discuss him soon, but for now, all you need to know is that he’s helped me a lot.’

  Bobby made an appointment to see Ed. Under an assumed name of course. Ed was his usual highly professional self, taking his client out for dinner seeing as he looked like making a huge bonus from him. Then Bobby made a sexual harassment claim against Ed to Ed’s boss, Jacobs.’ I beam while I stare at my therapist. ‘It was fantastic because meticulous, controlled Ed never fucks up and is so fucking loyal to his wife. His boss came to his office, and you could hear the raised voices all the way down the corridor. Aftershocks tore through the building’s staff. Ed? Sexual harassment with another male? Surely there was some mistake. Wasn’t he happily married? I owe Bobby so, so much. He gave me my way in. Ed tried to track him down but of course, he couldn’t because the customer didn’t exist. The damage was done anyway, because there’s no smoke without fire, right? Staff chatted behind his back for weeks. He loathed it. I’d see him snap pencils while sitting at his desk, his jaw set and his mind deep in thought.’