Brutal: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World) Read online

  “Mom,” I call out when I’m eventually in her kitchen, the smell of spices filling my nostrils.

  “Hey, honey.” She flashes me a smile and resumes to stirring whatever she’s cooking. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.” I peck her on the forehead and sit at the table. “Where’s dad?”

  “Work. He’s running late. He’ll be back soon.”

  My mother is English, my dad Spanish. I was born here and apart from the bronzed tan and my surname, you’d never guess my Spanish roots. Well, until I speak the language which I do so perfectly.

  “So, what’s new?” she asks, switching the kettle on.

  I rub my neck and lean back in my chair. I’ve never been a big talker, but my mom seems to scrape every bit of information out of me. She’s the only person who has the ability to.

  “Work. Gym. The usual.”

  “No lucky lady yet?”

  Amara Jain weirdly flashes in my mind and I shift backwards in my seat, perplexed, with no idea why. In fact I do know why and it terrifies me. This cannot be happening. I’m not attracted to her, I’m not tempted by her, or so I tell myself. Anything to do with that woman would be dangerous with detrimental consequences. I block her from my brain instantly, just as I do everything else that leaves me unsettled. “Let’s not go there,” I tell my mom and take my steaming coffee when it’s ready.

  “You know you’re my only chance at having grandkids.” She shoots me a look. “There’s a woman at work…her daughter is single…or there are dating apps I hear are good—”

  “Mom,” I cut her off and clasp my hands together. “Do I look like the sort of man who struggles to get women?” I’m not being big-headed, just stating the facts. Although I ignore it, I’m not oblivious to the attention I get everywhere I go.

  My mom laughs and shakes her head. “Not all women like the tall, mysterious, macho type, Mr. Arrogant,” she teases.

  “Like who?” Certainly not her. My dad looked similar when he was my age.

  “I don’t know.” She turns off the hob and joins me at the table. “Some people want more than just a pretty cover.”

  I sip my coffee. “Are you saying my personality isn’t appealing?”

  “Not everyone gets to see that personality, sweetie. You’re practically mute most of the time.”

  I hold in a laugh. I have to be in this job. Mute. Observant. On my guard at all times. When my dad arrives I quickly embrace him and pat his back.

  “Qué pasa, papi?”

  He shrugs his shoulder. “No mucho. Todo bien con tu?”

  “Si,” I respond. “Más o menos.”

  “Hey!” My mom puts her hand on her hip. “English please!” She never learnt Spanish so we speak it sometimes to tease her.

  “Esta loca.” My dad laughs.

  “I know loca means crazy.” She pokes him. “Familiar with the word cabrón, cariño?”

  My dad grins and pecks her on the cheek. They’ve been married forever and my heart constricts in my chest. I respect my parents massively. I’d do anything for them. God forbid anything happen to my mom and dad. I shake my head as if to rid the thoughts. Being a bodyguard can be both a blessing and a curse. People get to know me and my reputation. Sometimes I have to play rough, and not everyone takes that well.

  “How’s work?” my dad asks. He doesn’t agree with my choice of career, forever worrying about me getting hurt. Money isn’t everything, he’d tell me. Even when I showed him photographs of me in designer suits, in first class planes with my clients, driving flashy cars, and being able to experience places I could only dream of, his opinion never changes.

  “Not bad.” I drain the last of my coffee and stand. “I’m hoping to gain a high-profile client, but we’ll see.”

  “You look well.”

  After an hour of talking to my mom and paying an interest in my dad’s model cars, I say my goodbyes and stroll to my black Mercedes parked outside. I have a few hours to relax before accompanying Thomas to a swanky bar. I need him to secure Maverick Haynes as my client. I’m almost certain Elliot is planning to move abroad, and having only one client won’t be good financially. I just hope Thomas doesn’t discover his girlfriend’s gun possession and how I knew all about it. He wouldn’t take it well. I hate how I’m being disloyal to him, but there was fear in Amara’s eyes, and if she needs to protect herself from someone how can I intervene?

  Once I’m in the car, my mobile bleeps and I check the screen. I live in an apartment in Notting Hill and it’s the landlord reminding me of the rent I owe. That and my credit card loans are building up. If I don’t get sorted and soon I may have to say goodbye to London, and the only job I’ve ever known since my early twenties. Trying to remain positive although I’m sick with worry, I start the engine and the stereo. A house track blasts out and I speed off, but not before glancing back at my parents place. Grandkids. I shake my head at my mom’s wish and sigh heavily. I’d love nothing more than to give them cute, bilingual grandkids, but it’s not going to happen. Maybe a lifetime ago, but definitely not now and it kills me.

  Chapter Three

  AMARA

  I peer down at my black knee-length dress and matching handbag. One thing I’ll never take for granted is fashion. I’m used to being invisible, thrust into the background, like I don’t matter. One day I will stand tall and stand out, and no-one will ever tell me otherwise.

  “Amara!” Thomas yells from downstairs. “Are you ready?”

  I fiddle with my loose dark curls in the mirror and then join Thomas in the living room.

  “You look gorgeous.” His hand slips around my waist and he grins devilishly.

  I smile, pretending to appreciate his comment, but in reality it falls on deaf ears. Does he think I’m stupid, that I don’t know of his obscene flirting when out with friends? If only I didn’t have to bite my tongue and play by his rules. Not for long, I try to convince myself, hopeful there’s light at the end of this dark tunnel.

  “Oh, by the way, I have a new bodyguard. I don’t believe you’ve met—”

  “I met him earlier briefly. He almost gave me a heart attack because someone failed to mention I also live here,” I take a swipe at him.

  Thomas pulls a face. “Must have forgotten. You know how busy I am these days.”

  Busy making a fool out of me. It’s such a shame. There was once a time when I could have imagined a future with Thomas. He ruined it by digging deep, by getting in my business, and then using it against me. How could I love, even like someone that manipulative? Instead of bringing us closer it’s caused a huge wedge which can’t be fixed.

  “Rick is here,” he informs me of our drivers presence, the black Range Rover with tinted windows pulling up. “Elias should be here shortly.” He checks his watch. “He better not be late, or I’ll replace him at the click of—”

  “He’s here,” I say flatly, noticing Elias coming up the path.

  Thomas needs to get over this tiring power trip. When he told me he’d hired his first bodyguard months ago I thought it was due to him showing off, pretending he’s of some importance in London, but it’s more for safety reasons. He’d been mugged in the street after a night out, his mobile and three grand cash gone, just like that. I suppose it sort of serves him right. Who carries that kind of money around? Probably impressing women again.

  Once we’re in the car I take in all of London’s delights. The impressive historic buildings, ancient monuments, grand stores, restaurants and whatnot, making people spoilt for choice. So much to do and see. Tourists are seen taking photographs of anything and everything. I remember when I first came here. It was a while before I could explore and take in the magnificent sights, and even now a year on I haven’t seen everything.

  When we pull up outside The Shard, a tall triangle shaped glass skyscraper, I hold back a smile. One thing Thomas did right was introducing me to places I never could have visited otherwise. Well, not eating in the fancy restaurant on the 31st floor anyway. Saying
goodbye to Rick, we exit the vehicle. I tighten my hold on Thomas’s hand. I don’t particularly feel protected by him, but I’m a little less anxious when Elias lingers close. As usual, force of habit, I scan the area. Lately I’ve been getting the feeling someone is following me. I could be being paranoid, who knows?

  When we eventually get inside the Aqua Shard and find Thomas’s friends with their partners, I don’t rush to sit. I drink in the panoramic view of London from the humongous floor to ceiling windows. It never gets old. An array of buildings are all lit up, surrounding the River Thames, and I can see the Tower Bridge. I take a few steps forward and place my hand on the windowpane. This can all be taken away from me in a flash.

  My body warms as I sense someone’s presence. My eyes flick to the right and I see him. Elias Cortez. He’s standing dangerously close to me, also appreciating the view. When his stare meets mine, I remove my hand, aware it’s shaking slightly. Am I afraid of this man, or stupidly shy in his company? Neither of us speak and the tension in the air seems to grow. I examine our reflections in the window. I look so petite next to him. I like it.

  Slowly turning around, my breath catches in my throat at how close our bodies actually are. I have to tilt my head to accommodate his height. My heart is thrumming wildly, and I wonder what it’d be like to have him wrap me in his arms, to have my cheek pressed against his firm chest, to breathe in his strong, manly scent. I bet he’s what safety feels like.

  “Mr. Dawson is looking for you,” he says all serious.

  “Okay,” I respond, and remind myself why he’s here—for Thomas.

  Although I hate socialising I greet everyone at the table in a polite manner. I sit and as I take in glistening diamonds, designer clothes, and sparkling champagne glued to the hands of the wealthy, doubt creeps in like it often does. I snatch up the drink set for me, and draining the contents I wish for once it was alcohol and not juice. Thomas is positioned opposite me and Elias is to his right. He’s surveying the restaurant, on his guard, observant. He reminds me of a sniper, ready to strike at any moment if need be. I’ve always found a man that can look after himself appealing. A man that can look after a woman too is even better.

  “I’m up for the Grand Prix,” Thomas tells his nearest companion of whose name I cannot recall.

  I’m ignored while Thomas discusses sport and the women babble on about aesthetic treatments. The redhead beside me keeps on stealing glances at Elias and for some strange reason envy churns in my stomach. Why do I care? I barely know the man.

  She leans in and tells me we’re lucky to have him as our bodyguard. “I’ve seen him in action.” She giggles. “That man sure can protect. He’s brutal.”

  I turn to her, miffed.

  “He used to work for this man I know. Elias Cortez has quite a reputation. Just don’t get on his bad side.” She winks. “Unless you’re into that.”

  I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and am surprised when Thomas instructs Elias to escort me. I stare at Thomas, no doubt confusion visible on my face.

  “Can’t be too careful these days,” he states. “You never know what could be lurking around the corner.” He’s making a dig at me, for hiding my past from him.

  My heels click against the tiled floor as I sashay to the bathroom, feigning confidence I don’t have. On the outside I bet I appear strong, put together, independent, but deep down I’m none of those things. But I will be.

  “Would you like to help me wash my hands too?” I tease Elias, trying to lighten the weird mood which exists between us.

  He ignores me. Does this man speak, have a sense of humour, anything? Giving up, I enter the bathroom where I fiddle with my hair and smooth down my dress. Back into the corridor I recognise a famous actress. A few people are discreetly taking photos on their mobiles and I bow my head to hide. Some people are so rude. I wonder how many pictures and selfies people are unawarely featured in which are plastered all over the Internet. It’s quite dangerous.

  A few hours later Thomas is drunk. I knew this would happen which is why I rarely go out with him. I snatch his mobile and call Rick asking him to collect us. As much as I want to berate Thomas, I hold back. He’ll just tell me I’m boring, to have a drink and loosen up, to live life. A yawn escapes me and I’m glad Elias is here to help Thomas get to the car. Thomas blurts obscenities to people and I fear a fight will break out. Then he’s rude to Elias, speaking to him like something he stepped in. I’m beyond embarrassed.

  When Elias finally puts him to bed, he joins me in the living room.

  “I’m sorry about Thomas.” I fold my arms over my chest. “If it’s any consolation, he doesn’t speak to me very nice when he’s drunk either.”

  “It’s not your apology to make.” He rubs at the stubble on his jaw. “Anyway, it’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine.” I’m sick of rude, rich people always being excused, how they think they’re superior. “It won’t happen again,” I promise, having every intention of giving Thomas a verbal bashing.

  “I can take care of myself.” The corners of his mouth curl upwards as if he’s amused or touched by my concern for him.

  “Can I get you anything to drink, or eat?” My manners return. It’s late and I shouldn’t want him to stay longer, but I’m appreciative he kept true to his word and didn’t tell Thomas about my gun. I find there’s not many people you can trust these days.

  “I’m good.” He simply stands there silent and intense.

  I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, unsure what else to say to Mr. Talkative. “Well, thank you for being here tonight. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t.” I have an idea though. Thomas would have more than likely been beaten to a pulp, and me? Hit too? My belongings stolen? And if the Police got involved…I rub my aching temple…it doesn’t even bear thinking about. I don’t need that kind of attention. One wrong move can cost me everything.

  “Will you be okay?” I’m sure there’s a hint of worry in his tone. He must think I’m in danger from Thomas.

  “I’ll be more than okay.”

  He retrieves his mobile from his pocket and passes it to me. “Give me your number and I’ll send you mine.” It’s a demand.

  Why does he want my number?

  “If you need me for anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

  Oh. I tap the screen and it lights up. He’s the only person I know, except for me, who doesn’t have a screensaver of either a loved one, beautiful scenery, or an inspirational quote. In my defence my mobile is old. I don’t trust new technology, saving data, and all the tracker apps. Returning his mobile, I peel off my jacket which I hadn’t yet done. Elias makes no attempt to leave yet. Doesn’t he want to go home? Does he have a family?

  “Where do you live?” My curiosity gets the better of me.

  “Notting Hill.”

  I nod. “With your family?”

  “Alone.”

  I step backwards, putting distance between us. I’m too close for comfort and it’s dangerous. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he swallows and licks his lips. He must know I find him attractive. There’s not a woman alive that wouldn’t. I have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s so guarded and professional, it’s impossible to tell.

  When his mobile rings I find my attention closing in on his screen. Rhiann. He flicks a button and silences the call. He must have a string of women calling him at stupid o’clock. Not that it’s any of my business and I’m with Thomas. As if I’ve been drenched in cold water to wake me up, I come to my senses and tell Elias I’m going to bed. When I shut the door after him, I sag against it. I can’t have him worrying about me. Even a man as brutal as Elias Cortez wouldn’t be able to protect me. Not even with an entire army.

  I make my way upstairs, and before I go to the bathroom I decide to check on Thomas. I’m expecting to find him fast asleep, snoring loudly like always. Careful not to make the door creak, I’m slow in entering. Oh. I stop in my tracks. Thomas is sitting up, wide aw
ake. When I see what he’s holding my blood runs cold and my jaw drops. My gun.

  Chapter Four

  ELIAS

  I’m glad I have the sort of job where my mind is kept busy. My memories can’t hold me hostage when I have to be on my guard at all times. As I stand in the VIP section of Revolution, I survey the area. A drunk man is getting far too rowdy for my liking, and I’m certain he’ll try to pick a fight with my client. Envy is a dangerous emotion and often directed at Elliot, who is surrounded by beautiful women and buckets of cool champagne. A girl tries to slip past me, to help herself to my client’s beverages and I block her path.

  “Excuse me.” She rakes a hand through her blonde hair. “I was invited.”

  “By who?”

  She thrusts her double D chest out, and purses her lips as if in thought. Her beauty won’t deter me from disallowing her entrance. I’m used to being amongst gorgeous women, of different Nationalities, all shapes and sizes. It’s the heart that attracts me, the good-vibes aura, an authentic, kind personality. This girl is nothing but arrogant and spoilt.

  “Ask him and he’ll let me in.” She thrusts a perfectly manicured nail at Elliot.

  “Nope,” I say flatly, becoming bored. “Move out the way, or I’ll get security to escort you out.”

  She scoffs. “Why? Can’t you escort me out yourself, big boy?”

  If only she knew. I take one step toward her, levelling my eyes with hers. “Leave.”

  She laughs. “You’re no fun.” She pauses for a second, her gaze trailing over me. “You got a girlfriend?”

  I hold in the heavy sigh which wants to escape and I turn my back on her. It’s always the same shit.

  “You might be attractive, but you’re an ignorant cunt,” she snaps, her real personality shining through.

  I ignore her and edge closer to Elliot. As I take in the dancing crowd, everyone without a care in the world, except for the feel of the music, the repetitive beat and pleasing vocals, that song comes on. The song from that night where my life changed forever. I rub my forehead, wishing the DJ would hurry up and mix in another track. This is torturous. It’s like I’m in prison, the walls closing in on me. The song, the words, the faces. It’s like I’m back there, living it again. I curl my hand into a tight fist and clench my teeth, attempting to remain calm. The drunk man is falling into Elliot’s friends now. I hope for his sake he backs off because my mood is savage, and if I take it out on him it won’t be a pretty sight.