White Read online

  Contents

  title

  rights

  sneak peek

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  epilogue

  Swan

  description

  title

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  epilogue

  Scarlet

  In Thanks

  About Aria

  WHITE

  by

  Aria Cole

  WHITE

  Copyright 2016 Aria Cole

  Cover: PopKitty Book Reviews

  Editing: Aquila Editing

  Eve White is about to be sold to the highest bidder.

  Desperate to escape a life she didn’t choose, she’s sent away from her foster home one fateful night to be sold as another man’s property. Determined to survive by any means necessary, she makes it her goal to cash-in on her circumstances and run, because Eve’s only focus is her boys. The foster brothers she grew up protecting are her only concern—sheltering them and herself, the best that she can. But a half a million dollars for two years of her time paid by a sweet, silent, dashing man is one wild card Eve didn’t see coming.

  Asher Strong has spent his life with one solitary focus: her.

  Haunted by a single night from his past, Asher has made it his life’s work to right the wrongs, but from the moment he lays eyes on the raven-haired beauty, everything changes. He becomes obsessed with protecting her, showering her in the love she never had as a child, and welcoming her into his home and his life forever. It isn’t long before the sexual tension between them ignites into a blaze that they are powerless to contain, until one more fateful night threatens to shatter it all.

  *Warning: Asher is a virgin alpha-male with a giant heart who would do anything to protect his woman. If syrupy-sweet heroes and a delicious happily-ever-after make you swoon, White is the book for you!

  Flip to the back of White for an exclusive sneak peek of the cover of Scarlet!!!

  (Available late-June)

  one

  Eve

  I shuddered, pulling the blanket around my shoulders, feeling my knees quake in the impossibly high heels that felt awkward and numbed my feet.

  “I’m so sorry, Evie.” My foster brother and the oldest of the boys, Julian, wrapped his hand around my neck and squeezed—a comforting gesture he’d been doing since I was six and him seven.

  “It’s all right. I knew it was coming.” I wiped at a stubborn tear and pushed my hands down the minuscule piece of sequined fabric that tickled the tops of my thighs. I hated this getup. Hated that I was being forced to do this. Hated my life.

  I grew up in a world few could fathom and none should ever have to. It was dark, cold, ruthless. It was sex, drugs, and violence in all its extremes. I was raised in a foster family with three boys, also misplaced, and without them, I couldn’t stand tall for today.

  For tonight.

  For the moment I would be sold to the highest bidder.

  “You’ve got this, Eve.” Mason tugged at my hair and then popped a kiss on the apple of my cheek before he fell onto the couch and picked up a game controller, his eyes immediately focused on the screen. He was the youngest, and helplessly addicted to the escape he’d found in online gaming just like every other teenage boy, but when other boys were sleeping, Mason was working, head down and hood up, trying to sell his stash before the dawn. None of us had been blessed with a silver spoon; we all had our burdens.

  I shook my head. I loved these boys, and the worst part about tonight would be leaving them. Saying goodbye when all I really wanted to do was cuddle up in pajamas and watch another action movie like we’d done on so many other occasions.

  But instead, tonight I would be sold by my foster mother. The woman who had been collecting a measly income for the majority of my childhood years to take care of me. It went to fueling her drinking habit and paying for the occasional young man to warm her bed. I knew she hated me. She hated how these men would look at me with lust in their eyes. But from the outside, we were the picture-perfect, home-schooled foster family.

  From the moment I was placed in this house, Momma Judy, as she preferred to be called despite the fact that she was certainly no relation of mine, had always been into shady business, drug dealers and petty criminals with rotten teeth and the stench of cigarettes on their breath always stopping by. We’d never been sheltered from the darker side of their business, and the boys were sent out to make money under the table doing whatever was required to meet their weekly quota. Yes, a quota. Instead of being given an allowance like most kids, the boys were given a weekly quota—an amount of money they had to contribute, by any means necessary, to keep the family accounts balanced. Essentially, Momma Judy required them to pay their way while she blew the stipend given to us as fostered dependents. We wore rags while she wore designer labels, we ate rations while she dined on steak and champagne.

  The boys mostly sold weed on the street, sometimes shrooms or pills on a good day. I’d fought and cried and begged Judy to not send them out that first night a few years ago. Collapsed on the floor and begged on their behalf for some shred of innocence or dignity, but she had only smiled at my desperate display before kicking them out of the house for the night. When they each returned the next morning, the light had gone out in all their eyes, and Julian had returned with a crimson and purple bruise across the side of one cheekbone and eye socket. He’d encroached on gang territory. Judy hadn’t cared, only said that lessons on the street don’t come easy. My heart cracked wide open for my boys, but we’d each had to slowly mend it in order to survive. We’d each become hardened in our own way, the boys losing hope quickly, but not me. I’d hardened my heart to Judy’s callous disregard for our innocence, but I still held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut tightly at night in fervent prayer for a miracle. I wholeheartedly believed that we were each put on this earth for something, and my thing was my boys. Us. Fighting for our lives and freedom was my sole purpose in life, the thing that drove me, even when reality more resembled a much darker side of hell than it did a childhood.

  So how did I become exempt from the harsh treatment and financial quotas the boys were expected to maintain? I, the innocent young daughter, was the cash cow. Soon after my fifteenth birthday, when my God-given curves and full lips began to develop, I was expected to sell my body to men. At first, only kinky pictures, then pre-recorded cam shows, and by my seventeenth birthday I was doing one-on-one Skype appointments with the highest bidder. The only thing that saved my dignity in those moments was that I was clothed. Completely clothed. Fitted tank tops and short shorts, yes, all suggestive to the men that paid top dollar for an hour of my uninterrupted time, but the funny thing was, I didn’t even have to talk to them.

  They just watched me. A shiver ran through me at the memory, and while the short dress and high heels made me uncomfortable and used, they also made me feel like a woman. With every cam show and photo session, I felt steel strengthening my backbone, my heart filling with more confidence and hope. I would beat them all at their own game. Just wait and see, I told myself.

  To Judy I may still be a pawn to be sold to the highest bidder, but that’s not how I saw myself. This was my coming out party, the moment I could finally do something to help us. We would soon finally be
free.

  I had three boys to take care of. The price would be high, but as I inflated myself with the inner strength I’d been saving for this day, I would rescue us all. Each of our young lives depended on it.

  In the twelve years I’d been with Judy, she’d consistently tried to break my spirit. With the cash flowing in and regular appointments at the wax bar to keep me sweet and virginal looking, life was great for everyone in the house, except the four kids who had been forced to survive in that prison. But without those boys, I doubt I’d be alive to tell the tale.

  The four of us split two bedrooms. I came into the house after Grant, Mason, and Julian. Julian had his own room then, but being the gentleman he is, he forfeited his room instantly for me. From that day forward, I became their sister, mother, and companion, while they bunked in one small bedroom, arguing and laughing like boys do. I had a special relationship with each of them. We were a crew of kids who relied on each other. Like kids at an orphanage mistreated, we supported, connived, cried, and cheered.

  They would do anything for me, and I would for them.

  But lately…

  Lately I’d been sadder than usual. My recent eighteenth birthday should have been a cause for occasion, but instead I was to be sold exactly a week later. This would do two things: prevent me from finally escaping the terror I’d been fostered into, and turn me into someone’s property. I would be owned by someone. A man. A man I’d never met before, for whom I would cater to his every whim. Would he be mean? Abusive? Old? Married? I knew none of those things, but it didn’t matter. This would be temporary, even if I had to slip money out of his wallet a twenty-dollar bill at a time, I would save every cent until I could afford a place for all of us to live. Somewhere far, far away from Newark’s gritty underground.

  I could only hope this man would have some small shred of compassion. And if he didn’t, I would find the nearest crowbar and batter his skull with it before running for my life. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was still a plan. It made me feel better, hopeful.

  I’d had over a decade to come to terms with the reality of my life. But I knew I could get us out. I saw it coming.

  It had to be coming.

  “I wish you could come with me.” I finally composed myself and muttered to Julian, as he strummed on his guitar across the room. An old beat-up instrument that Julian clung to as if it was his saving grace. We often did this, congregated together in the room the boys shared. Julian ran a hand through his long threads, some falling over this thick lashes before he glanced up. “I’ll get you out of there, Evie. I promise. If it’s the last thing I do.” His hand clutched the neck of the guitar.

  “No, don’t do that.” I dropped to my knees at his feet. My hands gripped the frayed denim at his stonewashed knees when I saw the pain in his eyes.

  Julian and I had always been close. He was the oldest, been the first to be placed in this house. I would miss him the most, and I think this would be the hardest on him. He wasn’t ready for this separation any more than I was ready to be traded and sold like a whore.

  “I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. I’ll get out. I’ve been waiting years for this moment.” I faked a smile, but my damp eyelids betrayed me.

  Julian only shook his head, hair falling in his eyes and shielding his watery gaze from me. I squeezed his knee, then stood, a painful ball rolling in my stomach at the thought of what the next twenty-four hours might hold.

  As much as they'd tried, they couldn’t protect me from all the horrors at home. The first night I failed to earn less than a grand doing “modeling” as she called it, Judy smacked me across the face and hollered she couldn’t wait till I turned eighteen so she could dump me on some asshole.

  I’d shuddered then. It’d been her simple prophecy.

  Think you’re done when you’re eighteen, sweet Eve?

  Not likely.

  My brothers, my saviors. I am so thankful I’ll never have to know what I would have done without them in this ugly world.

  “I love you, boys.” I placed a kiss on Grant's forehead. All the tears had been shed in the days and weeks leading up to this. We were each empty, the pain in our hearts a permanent cross to bear. I hugged each of them tightly, knowing this wouldn't be the last time I saw them, but unsure of when the next time would be, and I walked out the door, to my fate. The next twenty-four hours would change everything.

  two

  Eve

  I reached the bottom of the stairs as Judy leered up at me, an over-priced fur coat draped over her shoulders. She reminded me of a mean Stepford wife, her hair styled in a perfect bob. I shuddered when she placed a hand at the small of my back.

  “You look friendly.” I felt her claw-like nails scrape my back in a gentle warning, then suddenly she tugged fiercely at my arm. I gritted my teeth harder than I ever had, thinking it was just a few more minutes. A few more minutes and Judy would be out of my life forever. The only thing I worried about was my boys, my brothers, being left behind.

  “I guess this is goodbye,” Judy snarled.

  “Get your hands off me,” I snapped out of the side of my mouth, and felt her hand drop to her side. If I didn’t know better, I would say she was scared.

  She croaked. “Now I remember why I’m glad to get rid of you, you little bitch.” I felt the rancid stench of her breath wash across my neck, and I wanted to shriek and pound her with my fists until she was bloody and brutalized.

  But I didn’t. Instead, I stepped away, reaching for the door, thankful that I wasn’t allowed to take a bag. Nothing from my previous life allowed. The only requirements were high heels, a short dress, and red lipstick. All girls were to dress more or less the same to allow the men the chance to see them at their best. No bruises or broken spirits allowed. This was a high-end auction, only the most beautiful women on the block. My stomach turned in another slow flip. I shoved a lock of hair behind my ear and tried to control my anxiety. Deep breaths, Eve Marie White. You can do this. You can do this. Forget the baggage. You can get through hell and back with heels, a great dress, and red lipstick. I’d only have to prove it.

  Judy escorted me down the steps of the derelict two-story and opened the car door for me. I cringed when she leaned over, her breath washing across my low neckline as she buckled the seat belt.

  “Like music, Eve?” Judy purred when her ample body was wedged behind the wheel of her crappy compact car, with a cracked windshield and obnoxiously loud muffler. I cringed when she’d started it up. For all the money she spent on designer clothing and shoes, you would think she’d spring for a decent vehicle. I couldn’t wait to leave this fucking place.

  “How far is it?” I asked only a few minutes later.

  Her dark, beady eyes cut to me before she answered, “Just a few blocks away.” We were on the other side of town, closer to the airport, where many industrial parks lay. As the sun faded behind the horizon, I swallowed the lump in my throat as we pulled into a parking lot dotted with a few cars.

  I searched the area, wondering where in the hell we were. This certainly didn’t look like a place where women were bought and sold for sex, but then again, what did a place like that even look like? And these men had money. This wasn’t your usual grimy underground scheme. These men were willing to pay top dollar to get their needs met.

  My stomach fell when Judy parked the car then went around the side to open my door. Her hand caught my elbow and her eyes burned into me. “Can't have you running.” Her voice was thick, dark with warning. “Listen, girl. You best behave. You give them a show in there, the best show of your life. You got that?” Her nails dug painfully into my elbow.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling more of that steel knit together in my spine as I stood tall and finally nodded. “I’ll do my best,” I gritted out, then pulled from her grasp and walked away, taking long, confident strides in my sky high heels. I couldn’t wait to get rid of her. I secretly hoped she’d stop at the bar on the way home tonight,
drink too much, and then get behind the wheel of her shitty little Camry and wrap herself around a tree. I’d wished that same scenario in my dreams for too many nights. I fucking hated her.

  This warehouse in the middle of nowhere was my future. Judy could burn alive in my past. I was ready.

  My foster mother finally caught up, shuffling me through a side door of the warehouse, guiding me down one long hallway before we came to two large bodyguards posted outside a single door.

  “Judy Rawlings with a delivery.” My foster mother nodded once at me. A delivery? I clenched my fists at my sides and bit down on my cheek to control my tongue.

  The big brawny guy on my right nodded and opened the door, indicating for me to follow him in. “Not you. You wait outside.” He stopped Judy in her tracks, and a surprising sense of relief flooded me.

  Judy’s eyes shot open as she froze, before she looked around the hallway, as if searching for a waiting room. Even she was out of her element here.

  “He’ll be out soon. Just her.” The bodyguard placed a gentle hand at my elbow, his touch surprising even me. It was in sharp contrast with his linebacker physique and a voice so deep and ominous it sent shudders through my body.

  The heavy door closed with resounding finality behind us as I took the first steps into my new life.

  “Eve White?” A man behind a desk glanced at a single sheet of paper in his hands, then up to me. “Clancy. It’s a pleasure,” he introduced himself and my stomach churned with bile as I nodded and watched his eyes crawl up my body, taking in the short dress, the curve of my waist, and swell of my heavy breasts, before landing on my eyes again.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  The man didn’t reply, only turned his eyes back to his paper. “Eighteen last week? I’ll need to see your ID to confirm that, then I’ll get a signature and we’ll be ready for the next step.” I slipped the ID from the small clutch I’d been allowed to carry, and passed it to him.