Crave (Willowbrook #2)

Prologue

GIA

She almost ignored the call.

When her phone rang earlier, she’d known it was ch? hai.

Her older sister—Minh Tam to the family, but just Minh or Minnie to everyone else—had long ago assigned an old song by their favorite boy band to her contact.

Gia had kept the same ringtone through every phone upgrade, despite changing phones more times than she’d changed outfits.

What once had been a sweet reminder of home lately only stirred dread in her chest. Now, their crooning voices became a harbinger of shame.

A jarring reminder of all of her failures.

“Come home, Gia Huy.”

She wished she hadn’t answered. Tears welled in Gia’s eyes as Minh’s words echoed in her mind.

The thought of coming home after so long made her break out in a cold sweat.

The girl who left her small mountain town was so different from the person she is today.

And not necessarily for the better. What if she went back and was even more like a stranger in her hometown?

God, it would be the icing on this shit-filled cake.

Guilt gnawed at her insides like acid, leaving her raw and hollow.

Her life already teetered on the edge of too much.

Even if people welcomed her back with open arms, she would have to put in some time at the family restaurant.

She didn’t want to add family responsibilities on top of her festering wounds and the weight of public scrutiny.

It was all so incredibly suffocating sometimes.

Dark thoughts loomed beneath the surface, like ghostly hands reaching to pull her into the depths of the unknown, threatening to drown her.

Still, she managed to tread water. Somehow, she’d kept her nose inches above the surface.

Barely—only enough to survive. To exist. One day at a time.

Each breath she took was a small act of defiance.

Just one hit. You’ll feel so much better after.

Snapping free of the poisonous whisper in her head, Gia let her phone fall onto the unmade bed.

She needed to move before her mind dragged her somewhere she couldn’t return from.

Taking unsteady steps toward the bathroom, each movement felt stiff and uncoordinated, like she was walking through mud.

The cold floor bit at her bare feet, but it was nothing compared to the chill that settled deep in her bones.

It took far too much effort to cross the distance to the adjoining bathroom.

Deliberately slow, she finally crossed over the threshold. The motion triggered the harsh and unkind lights to flicker on. She squinted, raising her arms in a half-hearted attempt to shield herself from the inevitable.

Lurching for the sink, she kept her gaze low, unwilling to meet her reflection. She didn’t want to see herself like this.

She thought she’d hit rock bottom before—this was deeper.

What’s below rock bottom? The grave?

At the rate she was going, it could be her next destination. After her failed meeting with Preston Blackwell. The memory of the day’s events pulled Gia back, as if she had summoned his evil spirit.

“You’re going to regret this, you dumb bitch.”

Large hands tight around her throat. Couldn’t breathe. His eyes, dark and enraged. So angry. So evil.

Shaking her head free of the memory, Gia turned on the faucet, letting the water warm up as she grabbed an emerald-green towel.

Her favorite color. Her hands trembled as she soaked it, then lifted it slowly to her face.

Her head rose as though pulled by puppet strings.

She finally dared to look at her reflection in the ornate gold-framed mirror.

A gasp escaped her at the woman staring back. Her eyes roamed over her battered face.

The dark-haired woman staring back at her wasn’t someone she recognized.

No, not a woman.

Something else.

A ghost.

No, something more terrifying.

A ghoul.

Yes, that was more like it.

Finally, the outside matches the inside, a caustic voice chimed in as her cold hands gripped the sink tightly.

Shocked didn’t begin to describe the sight in front of her. It was hardly anyone she recognized. It seemed more plausible a stranger had hijacked her body, and she was only along for the ride.

Tentatively, she wiped at the corners of her lips, cleaning the dried blood. The effort made her wince. She suppressed a cry when fresh blood oozed from her split lip, frustrated with the mess he’d left behind.

What she’d allowed to happen.

Even though she knew it was not her fault, it didn’t make her feel less culpable.

Holding pressure to her bleeding lip, she met the gaze of the stranger staring back at her.

Her eyes were bloodshot. One was swollen and already turning into coalescing shades of blue and purple.

A handprint-shaped bruise darkened the column of her throat, still tender from where he had gripped her.

She needed to ice her face before the swelling got worse.

A part of her whispered that if she had only stopped to question why someone wanted to meet with her alone, maybe she could have prevented it.

Gia sniffed, refusing to let the tears fall again.

There was no way her makeup could cover up this mess.

Even her best concealer couldn’t handle the job.

She’d have to wear a scarf or a turtleneck.

Thankfully, autumn was around the corner.

She was probably going to have to cancel the next few weeks of public appearances. She wouldn’t be caught dead in this state. At least she didn’t have any photo shoots planned. She couldn’t bear another gossip magazine headline. Again.

Her vanity persisted, even now. She hated it about herself, but old habits were hard to kill.

Just like her, apparently.

Shaking her head, she shoved those thoughts back into the dark corners of her mind, imagining herself grabbing the menacing presence by the throat and locking it inside a cage.

She envisioned herself placing a muzzle over the poisonous mouth to silence the voice that only whispered lies and pain.

Then, finally, she imagined locking it in a cage and bolting the door shut.

It was a mental exercise she’d learned to help her through a potential mental breakdown. Sometimes it was effective, but other times… she’d lose.

Even so, her reflection remained bleak. Dull. Empty.

This life had taken so much from her. How much more could she endure before it claimed what was left of her weary soul? Hadn’t she given enough?

Living felt like performance art. Pretending to be fine, to be someone enviable.

She’d become the poster girl for making it, despite the odds stacked high against her.

She’d made a name for herself, coming from nothing and becoming the hottest commodity in an industry known for breaking even the most resilient person.

After all, everyone was watching her. Waiting for her to fall.

Yet here she was. Still standing. Barely.

But fame was a lie. Nothing about her life was glamorous anymore.

Gia splashed warm water onto her face, and it helped clear her head.

She had some calls to make. Her lawyer. Her assistant.

It was time for some damage control. The paparazzi would catch wind of what had happened soon enough.

She needed to get ahead of it and strategize how to salvage the career she’d worked so hard for.

First things first, she should call Jerry, her agent.

He’d be furious with her for losing him a life-changing paycheck. He was expecting a phone call from her telling him she’d sealed the deal. Signed her name on the dotted line like he sent her there to do. Except he sent her into the lion’s den, and she ended up fighting for her life. Literally.

Hands tugged at her clothes.

No! Fight back!

Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t care what had happened to her. He’d probably tell her it was all part of the business, because a paycheck was all she was to him. His cash cow. Someone whose worth was measured only in the amount of revenue he could cash out on.

She’d been a naive teenager when she’d signed a contract to work with him. One she was bound to for the foreseeable future. It hardly mattered, but as the years passed, it became harder to ignore how detrimental Jerry was to her life. To her survival.

She had once seen Jerry as a father figure.

It was laughable now. He only cared about money—about what she could earn him.

His praise came only when she booked the jobs he wanted.

Early on, she’d taken his disappointment personally, exerting herself more and more to please him.

Skipped meals. Lived at the gym. Smiled at the right people.

A shrill sound reverberated. It was her phone shrieking again from the bedroom. Based on the ringtone, it was Jerry, as if she’d summoned the devil himself. His ears must have been burning.

She didn’t make a move to answer it.

When the phone stopped ringing, she almost breathed a sigh of relief. The reprieve was short-lasting, as Jerry called again. He was like a bulldog with these things and he wouldn’t stop until she answered. The longer she waited, the worse his temper got.

Her phone rang again. She tucked the toxic thoughts neatly into their box–for now–and dragged herself back toward the bed. This time, she picked it up.

“Hi…” The word barely escaped her lips before she pulled the phone away.

“What the fuck, Gia? Do you even realize what you just did?” His grating voice made her wince. “You really fucked up this time! You lost the biggest opportunity of your career! You’re done! You’ll never work in Hollywood again!”

His words were as sharp as a knife. Every word out of his mouth was like a blow against her fragile psyche. She sank onto the plush mattress. The best money could buy, but it offered little comfort to her now.

“Your career is over! You hear me? Over! You’re yesterday’s news!” She dropped the phone. Her hands were numb. “Was it worth it, Gia? I have to clean this shit up because of you! You ungrateful bitch!”

Jerry’s voice still spewed obscenities from the speaker.

“You know how many strings I had to pull? No, of course not. You only think about yourself!”

The weight of disappointment threatened to pull her back under.

“Gia! Are you even listening to me?”

She wasn’t. Not anymore.

Curling in on herself, arms wrapped around her chest, she closed her eyes. She tried to summon Milo’s soothing voice, her yoga instructor-slash-therapist. He’d taught her to use her breath to center herself when she was getting overwhelmed.

Breathe. Center. Survive.

Over and over until the darkness came. Not the threatening kind. The quiet kind. The peaceful kind.

She wasn’t tired. She was exhausted. Bone deep. Soul deep.

Maybe she should sleep, and things would be a little less bleak when she woke up. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t wake up at all.

Gia’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. She’d fought too hard to let those demons back in. Her decision was made as she let her body melt onto the mattress.

It was time to go home.