Bluefield, West Virginia

I was beaming like a fool but I didn't care.

Since I was thirteen, I've had a series of odd part-time jobs on weekends and summers and I did my best to enjoy each one of them. The only one I regretted was my stint at a pet grooming store two summers ago where I sneezed my whole way through it.

The only job I've always wanted to score was one at Books Cabin, my favorite local bookstore where I'd spent many hours and money in. I'm no academic—romance books made up the bulk of my collection. I've always been perfectly happy to slip away into a fictional world where everything ended happily ever after. It's all I ever needed out of a book.

Books Cabin had been hard to get into though. The small staff had worked there for years and turnover barely happened.

With college a few months away, I had to make one last play to get in there before I moved out of Bluefield.

So this morning, I printed off my resume, walked over there and handed it to to Lorne who owned and managed the place. He always reminded me of old St. Nick with his silvery hair, rounded flushed cheeks and gruff laughter. We always got along well considering I was one of his regular customers but I amped up the charm today as I begged and coaxed for just a couple of months on the payroll.

It took about an hour and a half before he said yes, reminding me that he was only taking me on because I was one of his favorite customers and that like his youngest daughter Rebecca, who was heading for NYU this fall, I was moving away.

I bounced out of the bookstore with a stupid grin on my face.

The fact that I haven't heard back yet about my scholarship applications didn't dim my excitement. It still felt like things were looking up for me. The financial assistance would be a massive help but if for some reason I can't qualify, Timothy had assured me that my college money was safely set aside to cover my tuition. The money from the bookstore would help pay some of my initial living expenses until I could score another job around campus. I was setting off for college no matter what and I had the entire summer to spend in the company of happily-ever-afters.

"Cassie!"

I whipped around the sidewalk and saw a yellow Chevy truck swerve past a cyclist and pull over at the curb next to where I stood.

Kathy and Deanna, two of my closest high school friends, stuck their heads out of the side windows and beamed at me. Their boyfriends, Chad and Nolan, pretty much chorused a 'Yo!' my way. High school boys.

"Where have you been?" Kathy asked with an attempt at a glare. With her sunny blond hair and bright blue eyes, she always failed at looking anything other than an angel. "We thought you were meeting us at the lake."

"We waited and waited but Nolan had to drive back home for Travis's party," Deanna added with a slight arch of her brow as if to remind me of Nolan's brother's birthday barbecue. "You're still coming to that, right?"

I smiled and nodded. "Of course. I went to apply at Books Cabin, that's why I couldn't make it earlier. Sorry. But they hired me! Can you believe it?"

Kathy groaned and rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're spending the entire summer in that bookstore. It's our last summer before college. You've got two months left on your high school life and you're going to waste it around moldy books."

I instantly felt sheepish.

I didn't have many friends in high school because I seemed to prefer books over people but Kathy and Deanna had stuck by me since middle school and there were many times in the past when I skipped out on them to go book-shopping or read at home instead. I liked most people in our year but to be honest, I wasn't always sold on the usual things that interested them. At times, I felt like I was decades older than the people around me but I try not to spoil everyone's fun by acting like it. So when the girls made me promise to spend this summer hitting the lake and attending all the parties we could possibly get into before we parted ways for college, I agreed.

Kathy was going to Columbia and Deanna to Boston University. I was headed to the University of Pennsylvania.

"The money's going to help me with my move because Timothy would never give me any extra for that. But I'll still have plenty of time to hang out with you, don't worry," I reassured them with the sweetest smile I could manage. "Now go and I'll meet you guys at five, okay?"

"See you later, babe," Deanna said with a wink before Nolan rolled back into traffic.

I glanced at my watch. I had half an hour to get ready before the party. I should head straight home. I had to talk to Timothy about my not being able to work for him this summer. If he'd been more like Uncle Gary, I'd find him at the family-owned pawnshop, but he wasn't and I didn't have the time to hunt him down. Besides, it was going to be an ugly conversation and I'd rather save it for when I wasn't about to go out and have a good time.

I walked for another ten minutes before reaching the charming yellow house with a white wrap-around porch on the street corner. It belonged to the Pendleys, first by my uncle and his wife, Aunt Hilda, who was my mother's sister, and then by their only child, Timothy, who was a good fifteen years older than me.

My mother, Gabriella, died of cervical cancer when I was ten. She'd been a young widow and my aunt and uncle took me in. They weren't by any means rich but they managed well, running a small pawnshop they simply named Pendleys. Timothy had been living somewhere else at that time so I didn't see much of him until his parents' death from a car crash two years ago.

He was currently my legal guardian and although he acted perfectly normal out in public, we did not get along well.

His gaze always lingered a little too long on me, his comments often off-color. Then there were also the dozen or so creditors calling several times a week, hounding after our unpaid bills thanks to his frequent trips to the casino and the bars where he recklessly spent whatever money the pawnshop brought in if it did at all. Hard to be sure these days as he barely shows up there to run it. I've aired my opinion once or twice about it and thankfully got no more than a cold look or a snide remark for it. He made no secret of the fact that he had absolutely respect for me—or just women in general.

I've tried to take the higher road before, persisting in being kind even when he wasn't because it was just the two of us now and life would be so much easier if we got along. But the few times I tried to look after his well-being backfired on me. He was rude and mean when he was sober but when he was wasted, I would sometimes have an assortment of "accidents" which is what he calls them the next day after he spots a bruise or two on me. I'd come close to reporting him but considering the hold he had over my life and the funds necessary for me to start over somewhere, I resentfully kept my mouth shut.

I just had to keep busy this summer and bolt to college as soon as I could.

I came in through the front door and trudged up to my bedroom.

I stepped out of my clothes and quickly showered, flipping through my small closet for something to wear while I towel-dried my hair.

I had just plucked out a lemon yellow sundress, slightly faded on some parts but pretty enough for tonight's party, when I turned to throw it on the bed and noticed Timothy standing by my bedroom doorway.

"What the hell!" I dropped the small towel in front of me, clumsily trying to cover what my bra and underwear couldn't hide.

"You should've knocked, Timothy!" I snapped furiously at him before I managed to grab my old, terry cloth robe hanging on one of the four low posts of my bed, and shrugged it on. "What the hell do you want?"

I pressed my lips together, trying not to bite his head off with a stream of colorful language.

The way his eyes were scanning me shrewdly caused an ugly shudder down my spine. There was a calculating look to him, his mouth curling into a satisfied smirk.

I tightened the robe's belt around me and glared at him. I had no idea he was home. It was too early. If I'd known, I would've locked my bedroom door and put my chair against it as I normally did.

"I came to tell you something," he finally answered, moving away from the doorway and walking up toward me.

I instinctively walked backwards until I was on the other side of the bed. My heart was pounding but I kept my chin firmly up as I refused to let my gaze waver from his. The last thing I wanted was for him to think that I was afraid of him.

"What?" I bit out.

"A family friend has invited you to stay with them for the summer," he said, plopping down lazily on my bed. He was a tall and wiry man with a forgettable face, seemingly harmless if you didn't know him well enough like I did. I wanted him to stay far away from me.

"I didn't know we had family friends," I answered cautiously. "And since I've never met them before, what would they want with me?"

Timothy stared into space for a few seconds before locking his gaze back on me. "A friend of your Mom's, apparently. They have a beachfront at Cobalt Bay, real stunning. I know you love the beach and that you hate not having one around here. You loved Cobalt Bay, didn't you?"

I swallowed hard.

My mother and I had lived in Cobalt Bay until just a few months before her death. It was a small city northwest of California which had grown stronger economically in the last few decades after many businesses opened their corporate offices there and rich people started building and buying multi-million-dollar properties along its once-untouched, white-sanded banks that stretched along the beautiful, cobalt-hued ocean.

I had loved it even though all we had was a small, one-bedroom apartment in the outskirts of downtown. We had spent many weekends having a picnic by the beach and strolling by Baywalk.

"Why, after all these years, do they want to see me now?" I asked again, doing my best not to show any excitement at the prospect of returning to Cobalt Bay again.

"Why do you ask so many damn questions?" Timothy grumbled, rolling his eyes. "They thought you were doing okay here with my parents. They had just found out about the car accident. Also, I'm trying to get them to partner with me in the pawnshop. With their investment, I can do all the repairs and upgrades I've been planning on. It would really help if we grant them this small request."

I almost snorted at that. Timothy was more likely to take their money and spend it all on a night at the casino and the strip club. Still, I was curious.

"Who are they?"

Timothy pursed his lips and furrowed his brows as if trying to remember, "Mr. and Mrs. Vi-Victory. Their um, daughter, is the same age as you. Monica. Yeah. She'll be there too. Going to Harvard this fall, I think."

I studied Timothy for a few minutes.

"I can't," I finally said after weighing between my doubts, my newly-found hopes and the facts of my current situation. "I just took a job at Books Cabin. And I've promised to spend the summer with my friends. Plus, I have to get ready for fall—"

"They're not as important," Timothy hissed, suddenly bolting to his feet and marching toward me.

I was backed up against a corner and could go no further when he grabbed my arm and shook me hard. A tendril of fear wrapped itself around my spine. He'd never hurt me when he was sober but I've come to expect every dumb, vicious thing from Timothy.

"I have a lot riding on this, Cassie," he ground out, his eyes flashing. "Remember that college money my folks saved up for you? I might be very tempted to dip into it if I can't find the extra capital for the pawnshop. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

My mouth fell open with a gasp as I stared at him.

He really did just threaten to cut me off from my college funds!

The nerve!

"That money is mine," I uttered in a low, hard voice.

Timothy smiled cruelly. "No, that money was my parents', therefore, mine. Unfortunately for you, they did not think of putting it into a trust. All it is is just a tidy little savings account they promised to spend on you. But there's nothing in writing for that now, is there? If I wanted to, I could just simply drain it and close it and you can forget all your dreams of going away for college and instead stay here and work at the pawnshop. If you're lucky, I might just give you a nice little allowance if keep me happy."

Bile rose in my throat at his emphasis on the word happy and in that moment I knew that everywhere else was preferable than staying in this hell house with a man who was going to abuse me far worse than he already has sooner rather than later.

"When do I leave?" I asked in the steadiest voice I could manage.

He blinked, smiled and eased back, releasing my arm although I was already certain his fingers were going to leave me with a cuff of bruises.

"Tonight, actually," he answered, turning and walking to my closet to pull a battered magenta-colored suitcase from the rack above the row of hangers. "We have about a two-hour drive to Charleston. We stay the night there. Our flight is at six in the morning."

My panic button went off at the thought of me spending the night with Timothy at a hotel in another city, away from anyone who could help me. "Why do we have to spend the night there? We can just leave early tomorrow morning."

Timothy shook his head. "I'm not a morning person. Besides, I have some business at Charleston tonight. I'll drop you off at the hotel. It so happens there's a big poker tournament there that I can't miss so you better start packing. Bring your nicest clothes."

I was stunned at the speed things were going but all I could utter in reply was, "I don't have a lot of nice clothes."

He glanced at me with a scowl before flipping through the hangers and yanking out a couple of sundresses. He tossed them on the bed next to the yellow one I had been planning to wear tonight. "These will do. Find more of those. Bring your bikini or whatever. It's by the beach. Bring shorts and tank tops and those kinds of things. You have half an hour."

He quickly left and I sprang to my feet and shut the door.

I backed up against it, closing my eyes and pressing a hand at my wildly beating heart.

I glanced at the window, wondering briefly how to survive getting down from the second floor of the house. Even if I did manage to survive without breaking anything, where would I go? My friends couldn't help me; Timothy was my legal guardian. I had no verifiable proof of his threats or malicious intentions. I could run away but go where? I had nobody else. I had no money either. I barely scraped together two hundred dollars in cash since Timothy started giving me my allowance only every other week instead of weekly. I had some more in a savings account but it wouldn't tide me over for very long.

Maybe I'd be safer staying with these people, strangers they may be, I thought with a resigned sigh as I went to my closet and started taking out clothes to pack.

I could at least avoid Timothy and get by until I leave for college by fall.

And if they turned out to be worse than my sleazy cousin, I at least knew Cobalt Bay. I could blend in, find a job there easily as there were more opportunities there having become an important financial center in the country. Timothy would never find me.

As I committed myself to packing, I absently wondered how my life turned upside down in a matter of hours and whether things were ever going to go according to plan from now on.

***

Once at the hotel, I didn't see Timothy again until dawn after he snuck into the room and plopped down on the other double bed across from mine. He reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol.

I thought he was going to catch an hour or two of sleep but a few minutes later, he started moving around the hotel room before finally sitting down at the desk where he'd turned on the lamp and started writing something.

As tired and sleepy as I was, I didn't dare drift off.

He behaved during the drive to Charleston and seemed to be in a good mood actually but that didn't stop me from clutching my small flick knife under the sheets.

An hour later, I decided to get up.

He barely spared me a glance as I grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom to shower and change. He didn't so much say a word during our drive to the airport except when we stopped by a McDonald's drive-thru for some breakfast.

It was a long flight.

After two connections, we arrived mid-afternoon in San Francisco and sat in the boarding lounge for about an hour waiting for the puddle-jumper flight up the coast to Cobalt Bay.

Despite my hunger and exhaustion, I had not once glanced away from the window of the taxi, too busy in absorbing the sights and sounds of the Cobalt Bay I remembered from more than seven years ago. It was familiar although not quite the same, the skyline now outlining tall and shiny skyscrapers set against the backdrop of the glittering sea and clear open skies.

All that Timothy told me about the family I was staying with was that they lived in the poshest part of Seaside, the exclusive, beachfront neighborhood where the multi-million dollar houses stood proudly. It was at least a half hour drive from downtown but as soon as we rolled up the hilly, scenic drive, I couldn't help but sigh happily.

I loved the ocean and I mourned its loss after I moved to Bluefield.

Despite all the things spiraling out of control in my life, I was happy for a moment.

Soon, we were going up a more private road, steep and winding along the side of the cliff.

Then we passed an elegant sign of stainless steel letters on a black metal plate that said Cove Manor.

"They must be ridiculously rich," I murmured as I craned my neck to see if I could spot the house in the distance but the taxi went through a few more curves.

"Ridiculously rich," Timothy echoed with an almost bitter smile on his face. "And knows it too."

I was going to say that he wasn't encouraging me with that comment but I forgot instantly once my eyes caught sight of a portion of the enormous mansion gleaming white against the late afternoon sun.

The taxi stopped by the immense, white wrought-iron gate and Timothy quickly slipped out and unloaded my suitcase from the trunk.

Confused why were unloading outside of the gate, I stepped out and watched my cousin walk to what looked like an intercom device of some sort by the side of the gate. He was speaking to it in a hushed voice.