Gone Country (South of Heaven #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Andi

Dear Diary,

My mother always warned me that guys like him weren’t worth the heartache.

What she should have told me was that guys like him are capable of wrecking you from the inside out.

Maybe then I would have listened. Maybe then I wouldn’t be stuck in this dingy motel room, questioning every single decision that led me here.

I knew the fear of my situation would eventually settle in, but—honestly?

—I didn’t expect it to happen so soon. I’d hoped that adrenaline spike from hours ago would keep me going for a little longer, but it’s completely gone—leaving behind an empty hole that’s quickly filling up with worry and doubt.

What now? Where do I go from here?

I know for certain that the money I’d managed to keep hidden from him these past few months is only going to hold me over for so long.

His money. The money he gave me for “upkeep.” Manicures, facials, waxing…

whatever. I’d used just enough to keep up appearances and pocketed the rest. He never noticed I went to the budget spots instead of the high-end places he thought he was paying for.

I hate that I’m still relying on him in that aspect—that his money is the one thing keeping me afloat.

But I guess that’s the consequence of letting him control my life for so long…

of letting him take advantage of me when I was at my lowest point.

Letting him talk me out of my job with promises of taking care of my every need.

Letting him turn me into his own personal doll with clothes and jewelry I’d never be able to afford on my own.

Accepting the penthouse suite he’d moved me into overnight with none of my old belongings and no promise of ever getting them back.

I’d slowly and unknowingly made myself completely dependent on him.

Made myself his “property.” But I was too blind and na?ve to notice then.

It sickens me, the comfort I once found with him.

The power I fed upon at just being in his presence.

The sinful pride that filled me to my very core as I watched him get anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers—like me.

I never asked for that life, but that didn’t stop me from falling into it.

Falling. Who am I kidding? I didn’t fall. I was lured—lured deep into the monster’s lair with shiny objects, false promises, and no hope of ever getting out.

But I did.

And as God as my witness, I’m going to disappear so far off his radar that Heath Moreau will never, ever touch me again.

My fingertips traced over the words filling the once blank page, watching them blur as hot tears quickly pooled in my eyes.

Fighting against the onslaught of emotions warring within me, I tucked my face into my hands and gave into the overwhelming amount of fear and uncertainty as sobs wracked through my shoulders.

I allowed myself this one moment to mourn the girl I’d lost a long time ago and was now trying so desperately to get back.

When my chest no longer ached and the last of my tears had fallen, I wiped at the wetness gathered beneath my eyes and winced. Cradling my cheek, I flung my legs over the edge of the bed—sending up a cloud of musty, stale air from the outdated comforter—and walked toward the bathroom.

My reflection startled me as the fluorescent lights flickered to life, making me gasp.

The once tiny cut beneath my right eye had taken on new life as an angry red gash nestled in a deep purple bruise.

My bottom lip, split down the middle and jutted out on the left side, burned and throbbed as I gingerly touched my finger to it.

Bruises the shape of his hand decorated my spray tanned skin—on my arms where he had grabbed me and my throat where he had pinned me against the wall.

The memory of it flashed through my mind.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” I whispered, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

The early summer sun had felt warm and comforting on my skin as I stole a few moments of the day just for myself—the VIP pool terrace was perfect for that.

It sat three stories above the chaos of downtown and was carved into the side of the hotel like a secret oasis.

It was quiet, gated, wrapped in manicured greenery and tall privacy walls.

And my favorite part about it? Heath rarely came out here.

Not because it wasn’t exclusive enough. God, no.

You needed a platinum-level room key just to access the elevators.

But to him, spaces like this were wasted luxury.

All display and no function. He preferred the boardrooms and lounges where the air reeked of whiskey, money, and quiet corruption.

Places where power could be traded and secrets could be kept.

He once told me, “You can’t control a room full of people in sunglasses and swimsuits. They’re not listening. They’re just waiting to be seen.”

And he hated being seen without control.

So while he buried himself in deals and dinners and God-knows-what behind dark glass walls, I came here. Because as long as he thought it was beneath his time, he never thought to claim it. Never thought to ruin it.

It was the only place left that felt like mine.

I was stretched out on one of the far loungers in my bikini, angled toward the edge of the terrace where the breeze slipped through the railing and ghosted across my skin, when two guys showed up—likely college kids from the floor below or somewhere nearby, sneaking into a place where they didn’t belong.

“Hey, beautiful,” one said, grinning like a predator spotting easy prey. He plopped down in the chair next to mine, uninvited and unwanted.

“I’m not interested,” I muttered, silently willing them to leave.

But of course, they didn’t.

The second one stepped closer, eyes dragging over my exposed skin, as their jokes turned from harmless to crude and uncomfortable. I stood, clutching my towel to my chest, and edged toward the exit, but they moved in too quick, flanking me.

“There you are, Alessandra.” Heath’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to. To the naked ear it probably sounded a lot like affection, but I knew better. I’d heard that tone enough times to feel the blood drain from my face.

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning his attention now to the two college boys. “I believe you’re lost. This deck is reserved for VIP guests only.”

One of them opened his mouth to respond, then obviously thought better of it. Heath didn’t look particularly threatening, but there was something in the way he spoke that made everyone obey him without question.

Both boys shot me quick looks, that cocky bravado they held moments ago draining out of them as they hurried away like they knew what they’d just stirred up.

But Heath wasn’t done.

“Come with me,” he murmured, gently touching his fingers to my elbow. Gentle, yes, but I felt the warning behind it.

I nodded as he escorted me toward the private elevator, giving me the silent treatment until the doors slid shut. His grip tightened then.

“What exactly were you hoping to accomplish out there?”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were sunbathing in that.” His gaze raked over my bikini with an open disapproval that made me feel like a misbehaving child. “Knowing the kind of people staying here this weekend.”

I was well aware of who he meant. It was alumni weekend for one of the nearby private universities, and the hotel was crawling with frat boys back in town—mostly the freshly graduated ones who treated it like an extension of spring break.

“You picked it out,” I snapped, the words tumbling out before I could think better of them.

His response was a slow exhale as the elevator climbed upward. Seconds ticked by, each one in time with the glowing floor numbers.

“You made a spectacle of yourself,” he said. “With everything going on, you thought it was wise to lie out half-naked in front of drunk college kids. What exactly did you think would happen?”

“I didn’t ask them to come over—”

“No,” he cut in, “but you didn’t do much to discourage them either, now did you?”

Anger thrummed throughout me and I straightened, even though his grip on my elbow was really starting to hurt. “So it’s my job to manage how grown men behave just because I exist near them?”

He was furious—I could feel the anger radiating off of him in waves as the elevator dinged and we stepped off of it and into our penthouse suite. My heart pounded painfully against my ribs.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked, letting go of my elbow as he crossed the room, sliding off his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his Oxford. “I bring you into my world,” he continued, back still to me, “and you think that gives you permission to act like you don’t know better?”

“That’s not fair,” I shot back, my stupid voice wobbling and getting louder. “I didn’t even talk to them. They came over and I told them no—”

He turned toward me then, closing the space between us in quick and deliberate strides as his hand came up fast, the back of it poised inches away from my face as he glared at me.

I flinched, shutting my eyes tight as I braced for impact.

But it didn’t come.

“Did you really think I was going to hit you?” he asked, his voice low and viciously amused.

My eyes blinked open, and he was smiling at me now, smug and cruel, as his fingers skimmed my throat before curling his palm around to the back of my neck. He pulled me to him then, brushing a kiss against my forehead. “Always so dramatic.”

I could barely breathe. The thump of my pulse roared in my ears as my chest rose and fell in a shallow, panicked rhythm. My entire body was locked up tight, but my mouth moved on instinct.

“Don’t touch me,” I said, the words barely audible.

His fingers twitched against the nape of my neck. “What was that?” he sneered, not pulling away.