Heart of Stone

Copyright © 2023 by Stevie Sparks All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher. ISBN: 9798396483583 This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is entirely coincidental. Cover design: Steamy Designs Contents Language Trigger Warnings 1. Kate 2. Warren 3. Kate 4. Warren 5. Kate 6. Warren 7. Kate 8. Warren 9. Kate 10. Warren 11. Kate 12. Kate 13. Kate 14. Warren 15. Kate 16. Kate 17. Warren 18. Kate Further Reading Also by Stevie Sparks Emmeline Michael About the Author Language Please note that this book is written by an English author about British characters. It's therefore written in UK English, which differs slightly from US English. Examples of their differences are: Realize is RealiseOrganize is OrganiseBehavior is BehaviourSpelled can be SpeltDreamed can be DreamtJewelry is JewelleryAnemia is AnaemiaTraveled is TravelledLicense can be LicenceWhiskey is Whisky There are obviously too many examples to catalogue (that's another one) them all here, but just to make you aware ahead of time. Trigger Warnings This is a dark romance so there are triggers scattered throughout: false imprisonment, being framed for a crime, abortion, pregnancy, knife play, spanking, drug addiction, gambling addiction, car accidents, loss of limbs, torture, poverty, revenge porn, physical violence, depression, suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, murder, rape, human trafficking, CSA, prison, foul language, and, of course, explicit sex. 1 Kate “Dad,” Kate whispered, horrified. The misery budded in her heart threatened to bloom. “I don’t understand—you’ve lost your club?” He took her hand, perhaps to stop the shaking in his own. The acrid notes of cheap alcohol and cigarette smoke hung heavy on his breath, as they always did when he returned from his club. Charlton’s Gentlemen’s Club. Club. A word fragranced with memories of aristocratic gentlemen’s establishments in St James’s, where the nobility would hide from nagging wives and share a tipple over the newest copy of The Times. Her dad’s business was little more than a seedy casino-turned-strip club, where only the most desperate would be found on any given day. Or the most dangerous. Dad’s eyes remained glued to their intertwined hands, as though he were too afraid to look her in the eye. “I made a bet,” he admitted. Kate’s shoulders sunk in horror. She wrenched her hand from his. “You promised you wouldn’t gamble again. You promised.” “I know,” he nodded, letting loose a cider-infused sigh. “I’m sorry, but you should have seen—” Her anger exploded from her in a fierce strike as his excuses began. She’d heard them all before. “I’ve spent all evening on the phone to the debt management people!” She picked up the enormous stack of invoices she’d had to compile, brandishing them in his direction. “Do you know how long it took to sort out? I had to detail every single asset—” Her airway was almost cut off by the realisation. The house. The house that Dad had bought under the name of the club as a way of finagling his way out of paying tax, as suggested by his dodgy accountant. “Dad, please tell me you didn’t.” Her father, who she’d always accepted regardless of his many faults, couldn’t even meet her gaze. He glared at his hands like a naughty schoolboy sitting outside his headteacher’s office, waiting for a bollocking. “I’m sorry, Katie.” “Don’t Katie me,” she hissed, storming to her feet. “I have spent the last decade of my life trying to get the club back on its feet financially, working day and night to solve every single mess you’ve made, consolidating loans and pleading with companies to help you get back on your feet.” All while her friends from school had been moving on with their lives, marrying and multiplying without a care in the world. Not that they kept in touch with her anymore, given that she spend her every waking hour attempting to manage Dad’s finances and doing admin for the club. The only contact she had with any of them was social media, seeing their perfect lives plastered across her shattered phone screen. Kate shook her head, holding her arms across her chest. What am I doing with my life? Living in a one-bedroom terrace house with her father. The only sacrifice he’d ever made for her was to give her the bedroom and sleep on a futon in the living room. The pale green carpet beneath her feet was threadbare, whilst her father’s smoking had long since stained the walls a sickening yellow. “I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice was soft. I can’t do anything anymore. At that, he looked up. Finally. “What does that mean?” “It means I can’t sit here and watch you throw your life away! In addition to the club and this fucking house, apparently.” She gestured to the photo on the coffee table next to the futon; the only photograph Dad would allow in the house. “Ever since Aaron died, you’ve been destroying yourself, Dad.” Her voice cracked. “And in the process you’re destroying me.” “Do you not think I’ve had enough to put up with?” he responded, his backbone suddenly appearing at the barest hint of criticism. “You were supposed to be the adult. No one forced you to get into that car.” The disappointment in her expression said the rest. No one forced you to let a drunken teenager drive your car. It had been the morning of Aaron’s eighteenth birthday when she’d been woken by a kindly social worker telling her that her father, brother, and brother’s best friend had been in a car accident, and that her brother hadn’t survived. She’d been taken into care for the two months that her father was in the hospital,