Fate Book (a New Adult Novel)

  FATE BOOK

  a Novel

  MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF

  Fate.

  Such a simple word, isn’t it? But there’s nothing simple about it. Not for me, anyway. Not when it comes to this man. I have no idea who the hell he is, where he came from, or what he wants, but his dangerous vibe tells me I should run away and never look back.

  But I can’t.

  Because as much as he scares the hell out of me, his sinfully dark gaze and what it does to me is ten times more powerful.

  And I know I want something I shouldn’t. I should want my sanity. I should want college and parties and this dream I’ve waited for my whole life. I should want to keep that promise I made myself back in high school to make something of my life.

  But now I’m looking at him, his powerful body, his predatory gaze, his sinfully shaped lips, and I know I’ll never be able to walk away. So I simply keep lying to myself about there being a reason for all this. I simply tell myself it must be fate.

  OTHER BEST-SELLING WORK BY MIMI JEAN PAMFILOFF:

  The Accidentally Yours Series

  Accidentally in Love with…a God?

  Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?

  Sun God Seeks…Surrogate?

  Accidentally…Evil? (a Novella)

  Vampires Need Not…Apply? Coming September 2013

  Accidentally…Cimil? (a Novella) Coming January 2014

  Cover Design by EarthlyCharms.com

  Editing by Dina Rubin

  Copyright © 2013 by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  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 writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  ISBN-10: 0615850774

  ISBN-13: 978-0-615-85077-1

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments:

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  Extras and Contact Info

  About the Author

  Dedicated

  To

  our

  GHOSTS

  and

  Rabbit Holes

  Acknowledgments:

  As always, I have to thank my awesome hubby and boys for their support and sacrifices. I couldn’t do any of this without them. Love you guys.

  Eternal, heartfelt gratitude toward the wonderfully supportive people in my life who took time out of their busy schedules to help make this book something better. Vicki Randall, Karen Schwartz, and Naughty Nana. (And you, too, Ally Kraai!)

  Finally, a big thanks to my Accidentally Yours fans (woooo!) for inspiring this novel! Your Facebooking with my hunky gods gave me the idea. (If only Votan would come to life and deliver cookies to your doorstep. Right?)

  FATE BOOK

  PART ONE

  Sunny Skies

  &

  Green Pastures Ahead

  CHAPTER ONE

  Monday.

  “This is your day, Dakota. Yours. And he will notice you,” I said, repeating my corny affirmation as I gazed confidently into the bathroom mirror and inspected my smooth, red hair one final time. Its glossy sheen was a definite improvement over my usual trademark frizz-fest. That straightening iron was worth every penny; although, it wasn’t my penny. My parents had invested a fortune in me lately, including professional teeth whitening after having my braces off, contacts to show off my big blues, a new wardrobe, and a shiny, red, super-fab eighteenth b-day gift.

  Oh yeah. I am talking car. VW Bug. And it was all mine, mine, mine.

  Now, if you’re thinking that this is the most spoiled, materialistic girl you’ve ever met, give me a chance to explain.

  Ready? Here it is...

  I’m a loser.

  Big time.

  What defines a loser? Well, I possess a certain lack of self-confidence and an undeniable social awkwardness, along with a love of all things geeky. Example: If I had to choose between watching Pretty Little Liars or a special about aliens and Egyptians, ninety-nine percent of the time I’d watch the aliens and DVR PLL. But I’d DVR the alien show, too, so I could watch it again. Ten times. I know, kind of geeky.

  I’m also terminally unpopular—the bubonic plague’s got nothing on me—which is why I’ve had one and only one friend since the first grade: Mandy Giovanni. Lucky for Mandy, she’s not as socially revolting to the general population as I am, but that’s because Janice Jensen, head cheerleader, doesn’t consider her enemy numero uno. That privilege belongs to me. Why? Couldn’t tell you. But my hypothesis is that it’s like those chickens that gang up on the weakest hen and partake in communal pecking until loser chicken is left with zero feathers. Janice’s favorite way to remove my plumage is to tell me I smell like a dog because I work at an animal shelter on weekends, and, apparently, being kind to homeless pets is not cool in her book.

  Yes. Janice and her cheer-posse are such peckers. Yes. I mean it both ways.

  So that’s me. Loser chicken.

  Well, I used to be, anyway. Because today, after the weeklong spring break, I would return to school as the new me. Eighteen, flat hair, and confident. All in preparation for an even bigger event: graduation. I absolutely couldn’t wait to enter that big, wonderful world waiting just for me. College, new friends, cute boys who might not throw up at the sight of me. Paradise. I’ve waited years for this.

  But first, there is one thing I need to do: overcome my fear of Janice. I realize it sounds lame to someone sitting on the outside looking in, but imagine spending the rest of your life knowing that you let someone bully you, humiliate you, make you feel as big as a freckle on a flea’s ass, and you did nothing to stop her.

  And I’m not talking about the occasional snide comment thrown my way. I’m talking having my panties stolen from my gym locker and hung on the flagpole while I swam laps, enduring a seven-day Tweet attack by “Jgirl,” who insisted I was once a boy, and food being thrown at me every day.

  I was sick and tired of being the reigning Queen Loser of Los Pinos High, located in the glorious Bay Area burbs of sunny California, for four years in a row. And no way, no how was I about to end high school holding that title.

  From this day forward, I would stand up
for myself. I would conquer my fears. I would face Janice.

  Hey. And who knew? Maybe even Dax, the yummiest guy in school, would notice me. A smile, eye contact, whatever. After pining from afar for four long years, nothing would make me happier or erase my self-imposed Queen Loser title faster.

  Of course he’ll notice you. You’ve been doing your affirmations, right?

  I took one last look in the mirror and smiled. “That’s right, Dakota. This is your day. This is your moment.” I turned and tripped over my purse on the floor.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mandy waited in her usual spot under the overhang at the front of the school. Her big brown eyes lit up like disco balls when she saw me pull into the lot in my new red car. She immediately ran over to inspect it.

  “Ohmygod, it’s amazing! And you look amazing,” she said as I slipped from the car. We hadn’t seen each other over spring break because she had gone to Florida to stay with her dad. I ended up at the Hamptons with my aunt, for the third year in a row, due to my dad being away on business and my mother having to work. At least this time I’d whittled the trip down to four days. I told my mom I’d rather be alone at home for my birthday than with her crazy sister.

  “Wait. I love the outfit,” Mandy critiqued politely. “But I thought you said you got new clothes.”

  “They’re new to me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “If my parents gave me a thousand bucks to spend for my birthday, you wouldn’t see me going to a thrift store.”

  It was true; I had a fetish for retro. Today I wore a 1950s-style pink blazer with three-quarter sleeves and giant pink buttons, along with a vintage Dior rhinestone necklace over a plain tee and jeans.

  “I only spent half,” I explained. “I thought you could help me attack the mall after school?” I’d really only spent two hundred; three went to the animal shelter for food and new beds. The rest would go toward clothes for college.

  Mandy clapped. “Yippy! That’s perfect because I got you a gift certificate for H&M!” She loved clothes, which was why she would be going to Parsons in the fall. I was happy for her, but New York City was really far away.

  “I knew there was a reason you were my bestie.” She gave me a mock kiss on the cheek and trotted off to class.

  “See you at lunch.” I grabbed my backpack and smiled. Check. First five minutes of school were a success. I hoped the next three hundred and eighty five minutes went just as well.

  Everything will be great. The universe likes you. Dax will notice you. You are not afraid of Janice. Everything will be great. The universe likes you. Dax will notice you. You are not afraid of Janice…I wandered down the hallway, weaving between students. My feet approached the homeroom doorway, and I had to shift my focus from cheesy, unrealistic affirmations to panic attacks. As in, not having one. My trademark move involved stuttering and hyperventilating. But I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t go there.

  Have faith, have faith, have…

  My nemesis, Janice, was in my homeroom and had been every single, goddamned year. On a good day, she’d show up late and take a seat toward the front, leaving me alone. On a bad day, she’d arrive on time, sit next to me, and peck the feathers from my head. She was truly an evil, sadistic witch. With a b. Capitalized. Embossed on a hanky. With snot.

  I stopped in the doorway and looked around, relieved beyond belief not to see Janice yet. I needed a few extra moments to call upon my Jedi bitch-repelling skills. There were several other faces I recognized, though. Greg, the tall swimmer guy. Karen, the all-around nice girl who seemed involved in every after-school activity possible—yearbook, fund-raising, dance committee, etc.—and a few other people who had no idea I existed, but didn’t pick on me either.

  I slid into a seat toward the back and began biting my nails.

  Mr. McGregor, my homeroom teacher, walked in, a vision of chaos: hair uncombed, khakis wrinkled, glasses slipping down his nose. He was my fave. He headed up the poetry club and theater. “Dakota,” he would always say, “I know high school can be rough, but trust me, things become infinitely better once you get out into the real world. Look at me—I’m happy and successful.”

  I get that most people would say, “A high school English teacher? Successful? Eh-hem. Sure.” But he did what he loved, and it showed. So, yeah, he was successful. At least in my eyes.

  “All right, everyone,” Mr. M addressed the class. “Welcome back from spring break—”

  “Hey, y’all! Wassup?”

  Jesus, no.

  “Ms. Jensen, so nice of you to join us,” said Mr. M.

  My heart and central nervous system protested violently at the sight of her. My hands began to sweat and tremble. The air in my lungs felt instantly polluted.

  Maybe confronting Janice could wait for another day.

  No! You have to do this, I told myself. You are officially a grown-up, and grown-ups don’t back down from bullies.

  But as she took a seat toward the middle of the room, she flung her silky blond locks over her shoulder and flashed a wicked little smile my way. Whoever said an image is worth a thousand words was so right; that image just told me she wanted to make my life hell today. Show no fear, show no fear, you are Yoda…

  Then a tiny ray of sunlight burst through the dark, wet storm clouds hovering overhead.

  Dax…I sighed as my mind took yummy-boy roll call. Light brown eyes trimmed with thick brown lashes.

  Check.

  Sandy-blond, shaggy hair, towel dried and left that way.

  Check, check.

  Heavenly broad shoulders, well-defined everything—arms, chest, legs—encased in low-slung faded jeans, and a snug tee?

  Mmmm…Check.

  My mind hit a speed bump and popped out of my little drool fest when I realized the only open seat was right behind me, and Dax was headed straight for it.

  I straightened my spine and pasted on a smile as he walked by, smelling sweet and delicious and…

  Nutty? I didn’t know Snickers made cologne. It totally worked for him.

  While I inhaled deeply—guess I was kinda hungry—Dax took his seat, but no notice of me.

  That’s okay, Dakota. It’s going to happen. It’s going to happen…

  “Hey, Dakota,” I heard a voice whisper from behind.

  I froze. Had I imagined it?

  “Dakota?” he said again.

  Yes. Not only had he spoken to me, but he also knew my name. Yes! Yes! Yes!

  I slowly turned my head over my shoulder and tried not to tremble. Or drool. Or say something dorky. “What’s up?” Nailed it!

  His brown eyes were even more magnificent up close.

  “Do you have a pen? I forgot mine,” he whispered.

  Pen. He wants a pen.

  “Sure.” I pulled one from the front pocket of my backpack and handed it over. And then it happened. He smiled at me. Actually smiled. Even his little dimples made an appearance.

  Freeze image in brain. Die happy now. I felt no shame—zero—admitting that I took this as an omen from the universe. Change was indeed comin’ round that mountain. My life was on its way to perfection.

  I smiled back and turned toward the front of the class, knowing that I looked like a giant grinning moron, but I didn’t care. Dax Price had smiled at me and knew my name.

  Still remaining on my high school bucket list was to face that horrible, evil cheer-cow the next time she messed with me. I didn’t know when it was coming, but it was coming.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Do you like this one?” Mandy looked at the price tag and then held up a satin purple top with ribbons on the back. Her brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Or was that the smugness of victory? I was finally at the mall, letting her pick out clothes for me. A first.

  “I’ll try it on.” Normally I didn’t wear purple—sorta looked weird with my red hair—but I was in a super great mood. After homeroom, Janice had taken off, and I didn’t see her the entire day.

  “So, how was your dad’
s?” I asked, shuffling through the black skirts a few racks away. I didn’t get how Mandy could become so excited about shopping in such a large, well-organized department store. Where was the victory in that? Going to a thrift store or even one of those small, funky boutiques was way more fun, like going on a treasure hunt.

  “Okay.” She shrugged. “Like usual, he spent most of his time at work. I read. That was about it.”

  “At least you got to see him every night. That’s good, right?”

  “I guess,” she replied, with stark disappointment. But in all honesty, Mandy had it way better than I did. I was lucky to see my father once a year, although we did Skype a couple times a month. His photography and modeling agency kept him traveling constantly, hopping from one exotic location to the next and then back again to his main office in the UK, where he was originally from. He had his business before marrying my mother, an ER nurse. Ironically, they met while he was in San Francisco on a shoot after he really got shot. Wrong place at the wrong time, except that he ended up in the hospital and met my mother. I liked to think it was fate.

  Not so fate-tastic was that every year since I could remember, he threatened to quit the on-location assignments or sell the company to his right hand man. But every year, he kept going. “We need the money,” he’d say. Or, “We’ll never be able to send you to college and retire.” After the age of twelve, I began to understand that he kept working because he wanted to. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me, but he loved his job more. When I became older, however, I felt sort of thankful he wasn’t around so much. Simply put, I loved him, but there were things about him that seriously pissed me off. Things I didn’t want to think about.

  And how my mother got by? Who knows? I guess she was too busy to feel lonely since she spent her days at the hospital. And being a nurse meant she rarely made it home at a reasonable hour, which is why I spent more time than I should’ve with a nanny or at Mandy’s house while growing up.

  “So how about your spring break?” Mandy asked, trying to brush her dark hair out of her eyes while balancing a giant heap of clothes on her left arm.