Fantasized by You Read online

  Table Of Contents

  Title page

  Copyright page

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Steph Nuss

  Fantasized by You

  bandit publishing

  Copyright 2014 by Steph Nuss

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Bandit Publishing

  Flower Mound, TX

  ISBN: 978-1-940652-28-3

  Prologue

  March 2011

  Harper

  “Jen, over here!”

  “Jen! Max! Look this way!”

  Flash after flash blinded us as we kept our heads down and walked into the club.

  “Jen Harper!”

  “Celebrating your birthday, Jen!?”

  When we finally got inside, away from the mass of paparazzi, my friend, Max Waters, turned to me, smiling. “Need a drink, H?”

  “Yes, please,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. I was completely regretting going out tonight, but Max and my models insisted on celebrating my twenty-seventh birthday by taking me out to dinner and hitting up the newest club in the city, called The Zoo. Fitting name for such an establishment, with the swarm of paps acting like a bunch of animals, harassing us to no end. Running a hand through my hair, I sighed.

  “I’m going to go freshen up. I’ll be right back.”

  In the bathroom, I stared at my tired reflection. When I was a little girl, I had two dreams: becoming a fashion designer and falling in love. Every time I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and ran warm water over my finger preparing to purge, I thought about my two dreams. I became the designer celebrities wore on red carpets, and I was so in love with my career that I became a celebrity myself. I was socializing with the best of the best in the entertainment industry and dealing with the stress of the media, the tabloids, and the paparazzi. I had no idea I would turn into this person. Someone who didn’t think she was good enough for anybody. Someone who didn’t love herself like she used to. Someone who constantly worried about perfecting her next design. I grew up surrounded by love and support but, while I was still loved and supported by tons of fans, the bulimia and the stress took over my dreams.

  Now, I was standing in the luxurious VIP bathroom, with its plush couches, marble flooring, and heated toilet seats, getting ready to empty the contents of my stomach because this was the person I’d turned into. The stress of just trying to get into the damn club lying on top of my dinner made me feel full, and whenever I felt full, I purged.

  The door to the ladies room flew open, knocking me out of my thoughts, and Max came barging in, looking pissed off and out of breath.

  “Stop!” He turned the faucet off and then pinned me against the wall, his hands tight around my twig arms. He looked at me with tears glistening in his eyes and rage radiating off him. I’d never seen him look so distraught before. “You have to fucking stop! You can’t do this anymore!”

  I tried wiggling out of his hold, pissed off at him for interrupting me, but his grip only tightened. “Max! Let me go!”

  “No,” he said, more calmly. “I’m not gonna let you go … It’s Camille.”

  “What about her?” I asked, confused and frustrated. I tried moving out of his grip again but failed. “She’s in Milan right now. She’s not even in the states.”

  “Harper …” he said, staring back at me. “I just got a call from her sister. Camille was found dead in her apartment earlier this evening.”

  When I heard the word “dead,” I froze. I stopped pushing him away, the anger burning through my veins immediately extinguished. “What? Camille’s … dead?”

  He nodded and I slid down to the floor in complete shock, closing my eyes. She can’t be dead. This isn’t happening. She’s one of my best friends. One of the best models in the industry. She can’t be dead. I opened my eyes and turned to look at him sitting next to me, and when I saw the tears in his eyes, I fell apart.

  “Come here.” He cradled me in his arms, rocking me back and forth and running his hand over my hair as I sobbed into his shoulder. I couldn’t breathe I was crying so hard, but when I finally calmed down and my breaths evened out, he dried my cheeks with his thumbs and kissed my forehead. “Harper, you have to promise me something, okay?”

  I nodded and tears pooled in my eyes again because I knew what he was going to make me promise … and I knew that this time I had to keep it.

  “Promise me you’ll stop making yourself sick,” he started, catching more of my tears with his thumbs. “Promise me you’ll go to rehab and get better. I care about you too much to sit back and let you do this to yourself. I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend.”

  I nodded again because I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want to lose myself either. Although, if I was being completely honest with myself, I was already lost, but I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to end up like Camille. She’d suffered from bulimia a lot longer than I had, but right now, I knew I didn’t want to end up like her. “I promise. I promise I’ll go Monday.”

  He stood and helped me up off the floor and then wrapped his arms around me for a hug. “Let’s get you home. I’m staying with you until Monday.”

  He wasn’t letting me out of his sight until I was tucked away in a rehab facility, fulfilling my promise, because he was Max. Not only was he my best friend, but he was also one of the few people that truly cared about me. In this screwed up dream of mine, he was the only one who knew about my problem.

  “Okay.”

  He led us out of the club, shielding me with his body as more flashes blinded my sight and paparazzi shouted my name. Once we were tucked into his black Bentley, we road back to my place in silence. The entire way home I thought about Camille. She was so full of life and beauty. She always acted like nothing could ever bring her down, like she was larger than life. Except she was down all the time. Just like I was tonight in the bathroom before Max came in.

  I knew I needed professional help if I didn’t want to end up like her.

  Maybe then my dreams would come true.

  Maybe I could love myself again like I used to.

  And then maybe I could fall in love with a man instead of my career and life wouldn’t be so chaotic.

  Maverick

  The most wonderful time of year was here: March Madness. That time of year when basketball fans discussed bracketology and who their picks were for each seed, and religiously tuned into ESPN just so we could hear other people’s opinions about the upcoming men’s college basketball tournament. When one game was over, another one began. When one game went to commercial, we could change the channel and tune into another.

  Tonight, the gang and I were hanging out at Judge’s like we always did on Fridays. The TV was tuned to ESPN like it always was, and we drank our beers and listened closely to the brack
et predictions. Well, some of us did. Tessa and Paige were flipping through some fashion magazine, circling the shit they wanted to buy, oohing and aahing over different items. Elly was seated next to me, listening to her dad give his thoughts on the upcoming tournament, and Justin, Fletcher, and Cash were seated next to her with their eyes glued to the screen.

  Just a typical Friday night for all of us.

  As I nodded at the bartender for another beer, Paige’s phone rang. Her phone never stopped ringing. If she wasn’t talking on it, she was texting or emailing. She lived and breathed by that damn thing. I turned my attention back to the TV as she walked away for more privacy.

  Seconds later, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find her standing there looking grim. Whatever her call was about, it wasn’t good.

  “What’s up?” I asked, before taking a pull from my beer. “Everything all right?”

  Elly heard me and turned around when she saw Paige’s somber look. “Who was on the phone, Paige?”

  “Um,” she started, glancing down at her hands. “That was Stacy. She’s one of the other publicists in my department at the firm.”

  “Yeah, Camille’s publicist,” I said, nodding. Paige’s firm had a Christmas party every year for their clients and I’d met the iconic model, Camille, a few months ago. We became friends and actually hooked up every once in awhile. And, during that time, I found out she was bulimic. I tried getting her help, but she adamantly refused, telling me I wasn’t her boyfriend and I didn’t need to worry about her. I can take care of myself, she always said. Now that Stacy was calling, I was a little worried. “Is everything okay?”

  Paige shook her head and looked down. “I’m really sorry, Mav, but Stacy thought you’d want to know. Camille was found unresponsive in her home earlier today. She said she died from cardiac arrest.”

  “Ohmigawd,” Elly gasped, wrapping her hands around my arm.

  She’s dead. Camille’s dead.

  If she would’ve just accepted my help, maybe she wouldn’t have died. Elly had given me the name of a therapist who specialized in eating disorders but Camille refused to see her. When I saw her taking diet pills, I tried even harder to help her. I tried getting Stacy involved, thinking she’d be able to talk some sense into her, but that didn’t work. Whenever I tried talking to her about rehab, she’d get pissed off and ignore me, and then she’d call me and our argument would pick up right where it left off. I thought I’d eventually be able to get through to her and get her the help she needed, but I finally gave up and told her to quit calling me. I told her I was done.

  Clenching my fists, I nudged Elly off me and kicked my barstool over. “Goddammit!” My voice grabbed the guys’ attention and all of my friends stared at me as I paced back and forth, confused and pissed off at myself.

  “What’s going on?” Fletcher asked, looking at Paige and Elly.

  I watched Paige give the guys the news, and that’s when I realized I needed air. I couldn’t breathe. I stormed out of the bar and paced on the sidewalk, needing the cool, fresh air to calm me down. How could Camille do this? How could she not see that what she was doing could kill her one day? Why wouldn’t she just let me help her?

  When I felt Elly’s arms circle my waist to stop me from moving, I sighed. “Maverick, talk to me.”

  “I’m so mad at her, Elly,” I seethed. “Why didn’t she want any help? She probably wouldn’t be dead right now if she’d gotten help. I don’t know what I could’ve done to make her want to get better. All we ever did was fight about it. I finally told her I was done trying to help her, and now I feel like a fucking asshole for not doing more. For just giving up on her.”

  “Mav …” Elly stepped back and blinked away unshed tears. “Listen to me. This isn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent this. Camille didn’t want any help. She had a problem she probably thought she could never overcome, but none of that matters now. She’s in a better place, a place where she doesn’t have to suffer anymore.”

  I nodded and then sighed. “I know. I just hate feeling so helpless. I never want to feel this way again.”

  Chapter One

  Present time

  Maverick

  It was the first Saturday of the new year, and Elly and I had just finished up a few sets of tennis. We each won a set and called it quits. She looked exhausted and, to be honest, I was, too. She may look little, but she has a lot of muscle and speed. She ran me all over the court today with her quick returns. The weekends were usually my down time, the time I spent away from the gym since I lived here during the week, but I couldn’t tell Elly no when she called last night about tennis. It’d been too long since we hung out just the two of us.

  “Talk to me, Goose,” I said, elbowing her.

  She laughed and then took a drink from her water bottle. “Where should I start?”

  “Well, you said last night you had some stuff you needed to talk to me about. What kinda stuff?”

  She rested her head against the wall and gazed back at me with tired eyes. “Wedding planning sucks. Who knew Tessa could be such a hard-ass.”

  I laughed and nodded. We knew Tessa to be easygoing and fun. From what I’d heard from Carter and Elly, Tessa the Wedding Planner was anything but easygoing and fun. “What’s she want now?”

  “Well, apparently, she thinks I need a bride’s personal attendant,” Elly said, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Isn’t that what your bridesmaids are for?” I asked quizzically.

  “Exactly!” Elly laughed. “That’s what I said, too, but no. A personal attendant usually helps the bride get ready while the bridesmaids are getting ready. That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

  I immediately shook my head no. “There’s no fucking way I’m going to be your attendant. That’s a chick’s job. I’m already a groomsman and have to wear a tux.” Ellyson Evans and I had been best friends since we were in diapers, but there was no way in hell I’d be her attendant when she married the love of her life, Carter Jennings.

  “You look good in a tux,” Elly said, smiling. “But I wasn’t asking you to be my attendant. I was thinking about asking your mom. Would you be okay with that? I thought I should ask you before I talk to her about it. I want her involved with my wedding. My mom would’ve wanted her involved, too.”

  I smiled and gazed down at the woman who was like a little sister to me. Our moms became best friends during college. They practically did everything together. The day wasn’t complete if Mom and Karen Evans hadn’t talked to one another. “Of course I’m okay with that. You didn’t need to ask me.”

  “I know. I guess I’m sort of nervous to talk to your mom about it,” Elly said, looking down at her lap. “She took my cancer scare pretty hard. Worst than even you and Dad. Reminding her that her best friend isn’t around to see her daughter get married isn’t going to be fun.”

  “You’re like a daughter to her,” I said, drinking from my water bottle. “She’ll be happy to help with your wedding, and, like you said, your mom would’ve wanted her to help. You know if she was still around the two of them would be going off the wall helping Tessa plan.”

  Elly laughed loudly and nodded. “I know! The three of them would be going completely nuts over everything!”

  I put my arm around her shoulders. “Just talk to her about it. It will give her something to do.”

  Elly nodded and smiled at me. “Thanks, Mav.”

  “Anytime.”

  “There’s something else,” she said, sitting up straighter. She took a large sip of her water and eyed me suspiciously. “It’s about the clinic.”

  When she mentioned the clinic—the Jones Health Clinic that took me forfuckingever to get approved for the gym—I turned all my attention to her. Nothing, and I mean nothing, was going to deter me from opening the clinic on Monday. “What about it?”

  “Would you consider having mentors come in and help the therapists?” she asked, raising her eyebrow slightly. “I�
�ve been meaning to talk to you about it, but with everything that’s been going on, from my health to Carter proposing and us moving into our new place, I kinda forgot about it until recently.”

  I studied her for a moment, carefully considering whether or not I should allow mentors to come into my facility. I wanted Jones Health Clinic to help individuals battling eating disorders as well as a variety of other health concerns from high blood pressure and high cholesterol to body dysmorphic disorder.

  The look Elly was giving me was one I knew all too well: she was about to say something I’d dislike. I hated that look because I almost always caved. There was a catch somewhere. I just needed to find out what it was. “I don’t know … should I?”

  Her eyes widened and her smile completely took over her face in excitement. “I think it would be really great, and I already have someone who’s interested in mentoring. She’s been out of rehab for bulimia for three years now, and she wants to make a pretty large donation to the clinic, too.”

  She winked at that last bit, knowing I wouldn’t turn away a donation. “Fine, but if I don’t like her, she’s not mentoring my patients.”

  She ignored me and continued. “And I’ve already cleared it with Dr. Cathy and she thinks it’s a great idea.”

  “Did you tell her about the clinic?” I asked, wanting to know more about this woman. I was protective of the gym and everything it encompassed, and the clinic was no different. I knew all the doctors as well as the members of their staff. I wanted full knowledge of every working aspect of Jones Health Clinic and I got it. I would feel the same about the mentors. I wanted background checks. I wanted to know everything.

  “No, she actually read about it in the Times,” Elly answered with a smile.