Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Fran
It takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep my crap together. If he knew… God, does he?
Does Islan?
The only reason I suggest he pursue Islan as the writer of the books is because I know that if it was her, he wouldn’t hurt her. She’s his sister, and if there’s anyone who’s safe in the Cowen Clan, it’s Islan and Paisley.
I know exactly who the author of the books is, of course. Because the author of these books… is me.
At first, I knew that I'd be embarrassed if they knew that I was the writer. I made them all so… hot. I’d die if I thought for a moment they knew I was the one that put pen to paper and actually wrote out the fantasies I’d been concocting for years.
I've always had a vivid imagination, at least that's the way I like to look at it.
Some people like to think I'm kind of insane, but whatever.
The first time I ever thought about writing a book about the Clan was after Tavish’s death.
No one in the Clan ever knew, but I had a major schoolgirl crush on him.
So I wrote a story with him in it, pretended that he didn't die, and every single book I've written since has four Clan brothers and two Clan sisters.
I told myself after a while that changing the number of siblings in the house would make it less likely that they would never find out I was writing about them. Ha. As if they wouldn’t see through the flimsiest change.
But I honestly never thought they would find the books. I never thought anybody would actually buy them, actually read them. But the more they sold, the more I wrote. And the reality is… I need that money. If I don’t have that money... I won’t think of that.
My job at the bookstore doesn’t come close to making what my books do, but I need all the money I can get. I’m in debt up to my eyeballs, thanks to my mother.
I wish I didn’t have to go to the store with Tate, but I’ve got a job to do. The bookstore’s an integral part of my whole plan.
I take the paperbacks and bring them to the bookstore first. I tell everyone I have a connection with the author. She signs the books and makes sure they get to the bookstore before anyone else has copies, even the readers.
My boss doesn't care. All she cares about is that I do my job, that we sell books.
She doesn't care that I have a massive setup of the Clan Chronicles in the front of the store, smack dab in front of the romance section.
She doesn't care that the books are signed, and that both Islan and Paisley have come into the store questioning me, questioning everybody to see if they know anything about the author. My boss is oblivious to everything, and that’s definitely to my advantage.
I knew it was dangerous for me to continue to write the books, once they really started getting some attention.
I discussed them with Paisley and Islan, and I've never let on that I was the writer, of course. It’s a secret I’ll take to my grave.
I sort of hated taking the side that I did, telling everyone that romance books were stupid.
Of course I don't believe that. If I thought they were, I never would've written them.
But no one can know that I'm the writer.
At first, I was just afraid that they would know that I’m unnaturally fascinated by the hotness of the Cowen Clan brothers, that they’d know I’m bloody well infatuated. It’s like writing fan fiction and then the subject of your fantasies on paper reads them. No, no, no.
But as time went on, I really became concerned for my safety. I never knew the Cowen brothers would actually take me seriously… I mean, take the books seriously. It's fiction. It's not real. No woman wants to be manhandled the way the guys in these books…
Sigh. Okay, strike that.
I absolutely would want to be manhandled the way the guys in my books treat my women. I fantasize about losing complete control. I dream about being overpowered by a strong, authoritative figure… Someone just like Tate. But I well know the line between fantasy and reality.
I don't know if my mates would ever understand it.
I don't think they'd understand what I do at all, what attracts me to their brothers. Mac and Leith are married men, and I thought knowing that would make me less attracted to the Cowen Clan, but… now I’ve just concentrated my infatuation on Tate.
And now that I see how the others treat their wives, my heart longs for something Just. Like. That.
I mean, Tate’s still single. And it's natural to want to be dominated by a hot guy… Right?
I remember the day that my crush on Tate began.
I was with Islan and Paisley, and we were doing something ridiculously stupid. I was the first one to tempt Paisley to nick the chocolate bar from the shop in Inverness Centre.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I was fourteen years old. Left to my own devices, unlike my friends who were always being watched, who had a list of rules as long as my arm. They always had things like bodyguards, if their brothers didn’t go with them. It was stifling as fuck.
And yet I was jealous. I wouldn't admit it to them. I wouldn't even admit it to me. I mean what kind of crazy person is jealous of having rules and structure and not being able to wipe your own arse without someone watching you?
Except, it totally was me.
My mum was never home at night. She had boyfriend after boyfriend who she seduced so they’d pay our rent. I had no respect for her… still don’t.
I went to school when I felt like it, did what I wanted, came home when I wanted to. I had total freedom. It’s what every teen wants, right? No structure, no accountability, and I thought I liked it that way.
Some people are never satisfied with what they have, though. And humans are naturally drawn to structure and routine.
Paisley is my age, and Islan a little older, but we still all became fast friends. They complained to me about their family rules. At first, I didn’t really understand why their family was so strict. But over time, it became clear. I heard things here and there, in whispers and hints.
I just knew they were fun to be with, and funny as hell. I like being around them, and I never felt like I had to put on a front or be someone other than who I was. I was… just me. And they liked me that way. Hell, they still do.
But they were good girls. They followed the rules. The teachers liked them, though I realize now that they probably didn't have much of a choice. They were treated almost like royalty.
And even though I didn't know who they were at first, I knew that something was different.
For one, I knew that they were wealthy. Like, really fucking rich.
For another, no one really knew where they lived.
And no one… I mean no one, had to go around with bloody bodyguards just for a trip to the shops in Inverness Centre.
I wanted to be their friend, so I played by the rules, too, when we were together.
But I liked breaking the rules. It’s a sort of game, I think, to see how far you can go when breaking rules. There’s a certain adrenaline rush, even.
It’d been a while since I’d gotten into any trouble or even come close, and I missed the spark of excitement that came with defiance. So I talked Paisley into nicking the chocolate. Just a wee bit of chocolate, I said.
She had plenty of pocket money. They both did. I didn't have any, but that didn't matter. They were always generous with what they had.
I just wanted to see if she’d do it.
So I talked her into it, mostly by telling her I didn't believe she could. At first, neither one of them wanted to go along with it. And I didn’t really blame them. I had nothing to lose, but they had everything, including solid reputations and their family’s stern disapproval.
“It’s just a little chocolate bar," I told her, just like a little devil on the shoulder would whisper. I had no moral compass and told myself the owners of the store wouldn't go bankrupt because of such petty theft. I was doing her a favor, teaching her to push back a little.
“You’ll feel so powerful once you get away with it,” I told her. “Do it.”
And she bloody well did it, but she didn’t stop at the bar of chocolate. She came out of the store, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, both pockets stuffed with goodies, giggling like mad.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
That's the trouble with breaking the law. One time isn't enough.
That's the problem with thrill seeking. Once isn't enough.
We moved on to the jewelry store, and that was a lot harder to get away with. We did, though.
Islan always disapproved. In fact, when I look back on it, I bet she was the one that ratted us out.
Because one day our fun came to a screeching halt. One day we were caught. Fucking red-handed. Paisley, anyway. I squeaked by.
The store owner said that he’d give her one opportunity to call her parents herself, or he'd call the police. She nodded, and she's not stupid. She knew her parents would have her head. So she called Tate.
“They’ll never believe he’s your dad,” I whispered, rolling my eyes at her.
She shrugged. “I’ll tell them he's my legal guardian, and my parents are on holiday.”
But honest to God, when Tate showed up? I would have fucking believed he was her father.
Hell, I think he was maybe harder on her than her dad would've been.
He was all flashing eyes and growly voice, as he ordered us into the back of the car.
He took the scenic route home, brought me all the way back to the Cowen Clan home himself, just so he could lecture the three of us.