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Chapter 3

The room went dark, the loneliness and betrayal wrapping their hands around my throat making it hard to breathe. I loved and now I’ve lost it. I gave him all of me but he left me. My heart broke that night and I became an empty shell of who I was...

Well, maybe not all that empty...

Three months later, I’d found out about the baby growing inside me. His baby. At first, I was shocked.

For those three months, I’d been drinking, smoking and taking drugs... I’d basically whored out myself to numerous guys just to recreate that sensation I felt with him but it didn’t work. As disgusting as it sounds that’s what my life turned to because of one guy and now, hearing about the life inside of me I know I need to change, to be the best for him or her...

To be a better me…

With that, I close the book and stare at the redhead before me. She taps her temple with an appreciative smile while resting her cheek on her remaining fingers.

It’s been an hour since I’ve been in Studio 6, taking part in an interview I didn’t even want to be a part of. Worse of all my fiancé’s ex is hosting. Yeah me.

Andrea is so dead the next time I see her. What possessed her to get me a spot on this show of all shows with the devil’s reincarnation?

Kaci Dais sits beside me in a sleek, black suit, silver, diamond-studded jewellery and her hair pulled back into a tight bun. The embodiment of a stuck up bitch.

“Wow, that was beautiful,” she says after a few moments leaning forward. Her face says sweet but her eyes say bitch. Must have taken quite a shit load of vodka for her to look this cheery.

I know it took me five glasses...

“Thank you,” I say gratefully as sweat cakes my forehead from the heat of the studio lights. Come on, let’s wrap this up... I have places to be... damn I’m gonna be so late.

“Ms. Blake that was a wonderfully written prologue,” she says flashing an award-winning smile. “I know I speak for everyone here when I say your book has piqued our interests and we’ll be picking up a copy on our way home.”

The crowd applauses and cheers, showing their agreement with what Ms. Dais said. I smile shyly thanking them all and even went as far as blowing kisses to the crowd.

When was this interview is over with remind me to cancel my tanning appointment, I mentally scoff, wiping sweat from my forehead.

“What was your motivation when writing this book, Ms. Blake?” Dais asks popping her left leg upon her right... showing those toned legs of hers.

Smiling, I tilt to the side mirroring her stance, showing her that whatever she can do... I do it better.

And did I look good doing it.

“Well, this book was influenced by a woman of broken spirit who somehow found the courage to get her life back on track. She’s been through a lot in her lifetime and when she approached me wanting her story to be heard I couldn’t say no,” I reply automatically. I’ve said this so much it’s become embedded in my head.

This wasn’t just a story, it is my story... my life and in my third year at Harvard, my roommate and best friend urged me to write about it. At first, I was against it but as I began to write it’s like a burden started to lift from my shoulders and after reading all four hundred and ninety-five Word Document pages, Shea pushed me to get it published.

And the rest is history.

“Well, then you did a wonderful job at that...” she smiles and I wonder how she keeps that fake-ass smile on her face for so long. “So, as we wrap up Ms. Blake, will tell us about her New York’s Bestseller nominated book one more time and the band will take us out.”

She gestures to me and I face the camera with my book in hand, the cover facing outwards. “Tempted to Touch, New York’s Bestseller nominated book, follows the life of Allison Anderson, a sex-addicted woman and can be purchased at a bookshop near you or find it on Amazon and other renown book sites. Have a blessed night America.”

Dias does her usual farewell and I stay there smiling like an idiot before the camera switches to the band. They sing for three minutes before the camera goes off and I sigh in relief standing from the couch.

I straighten my red, pencil skirt before doing the same to my matching jacket and black silk blouse.

“That was a nice show,” Kaci Dais says as she extends her hand.

In good sportsmanship, I shake her hand giving her the sweetest smile I can muster. “Anything for my fiancé’s blast from the past and I’m sure that will help boost your ratings tenfold.”

Her sweet facade falters and almost roll my eyes as I see the pissed and offended look in her eyes.

I know I may seem like a bitch but if you call her placing a couple of photos of her and my fiancé in my dressing room sweet, then I’m an angel.

I coyly flick my hair over my shoulder, displaying my engagement ring and I swear I saw steam puff from her ears.

“Have a good night Kaci. I need to go home I’m sure Rob’s getting a little impatient... And you know what an animal he is,” I wink before walking offset, adding a little pep in my step so she sees this fine ass shake.

She huffs and stomps away in the opposite direction and I smile in satisfaction.

You got nothing on me bitch.


“You’re late,” is the greeting I receive from my dearest mother as I step into the living room.

“And goodnight to you too, mother,” I say sarcastically as I pry off my jacket and drop my things onto the couch.

“She was waiting all night for you,” she states with a disapproving look on her face.

My mother Christina Blake, is poised on the love-seat sipping a glass of wine and watching Game of Thrones reruns. She wearing a black, silk nightgown that flows mid-thigh and matching bootie shorts...

Even at forty-seven years, my mother loves to embrace her body and doesn’t look a day over thirty.

“The interview got moved up and the traffic tonight was awfu—”

“I don’t need your excuses, tell them to the little girl who went to bed with tears in her eyes,” with that my mother turns off the TV and makes her way to the kitchen before returning to stand in front of me.

“She’s your daughter Indiana and she needs you now more than ever. Seeing you once a week doesn’t cut it and even then you’re lagging,” she gives an unamused chuckle and I gulp as she gives me that look. “Your brother and father will be home in two days and we’re having dinner. I expect you to be there and on time, with or without Roberto. Am I clear?”

“Yes momma,” I reply and she nods stiffly before smiling and kissing my cheek.

“Good night Angel,” she says making her way upstairs. “Diana is sleeping in your room, check on her before you leave. If you’re leaving.”

As she disappears into her room, I make my way up the stairs and down the hall. Stopping at the third door on my right, I twist the knob and peek on at my little sleeping beauty.

Her dark locks lie splattered on the pillow and a blue blanket covers her body as she sleeps on her side. I walk further into the room to get a better look at her. Diana’s hands are tucked under her chubby heart-shaped face and she breathes steadily through her mouth.

She takes her features mostly from me but there are hints of him here and there. She’s the embodiment of the love I once had, my only remaining part of him and I love her endlessly... like I loved him.

Tears stream down my cheeks and I wipe them away.

No more crying over him Indiana. I mentally urge myself. Nodding, I banish all thoughts of he-who-shall-not-be-named.

Diana stirs, stifling in her sleep and I feel like the worst mother ever. Sighing, I strip off my heels and skirt climbing onto the bed and pulling my baby into my arms.

Diana Kiara Blake. My pride and joy. The one that got me out of that shitty part of my life and made me whole. My daughter. It’s been eight years since she’s been brought into this world and my love for has never lessened once.

Wrapping my hands around her, she shuffles and opens her beautiful blue-green eyes to sleepily stare at me.

“Nala?” she says sleepily and I smile.

This was a thing that developed when Diana was three. We didn’t want anyone to know she was my daughter because of the harassment both of us would get from the press. So at the end of the day, we decided to keep it hidden which meant Diana couldn’t call me mommy. One day when we were watching Lion King —which was my favourite movie and also where Diana’s middle name came from— Diana started to call me Nala and herself Kiara (which she of course mispronounced).

She had boldly said ‘Mama—Nala, Me—Kiawah.’

From there on it kinda stuck on everyone and no one suspected anything about her parentage. It hurts that I can’t say she’s my own but I’m working on getting some stability in my life before I do so. I’ve hit rock bottom before and I don’t want her apart of that.

Kissing her forehead, I cradle her closer and place her head on my breasts.

“Yes it’s me, my little Kiara now go to sleep,” I say as she smiles softly and hugs my body.

Yawning, she nods before sleepily mumbling ‘I missed you’. I pat her back gently as she drifts off onto a sweet slumber and I smile sadly. “I missed you too baby.”

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