Loving Chase: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Novel Read online

  Loving Chase

  by Tania DeMelo

  Loving Chase

  Tania DeMelo

  Copyright © 2020 Tania DeMelo

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author, and your support and respect are appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  First Edition

  Chapter 1

  Dylan

  Some would call me entitled. Do you want to know what I say to that—abso-f’ing-lutely. There isn’t a silver spoon that has not fed this mouth, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I hold my head high with pride and say to those who have a problem with me—move the hell out of my way because I have no issue with running you over.

  Don’t get me wrong; I’m not one of those guys who thinks his crap doesn’t stink—okay, that’s a lie; I’m totally that guy. But that aside, I can, and have been known to roll with the less fortunate. I have poor friends, you know, the ones whose parents don’t have the bank to drop a few mill on a property in the right zip code. The same parents that work nine to five jobs while having to answer to someone above them. And what’s their reward for such submissiveness—they’re never able to live their best life.

  I mean, it must suck having to work your ass off day in and day out, yet still not have the ability to achieve greatness. But then again, as the saying goes, ‘we can’t all be kings.’

  “Is this honestly what you’re thinking about submitting to the article?”

  I look to my little brother, his eyes still scanning over my entry for the graduation review. “Yeah, that dowdy but doable brunette said she wanted honest insight into who I am and how my contributions have impacted our community.”

  My brother looks to me, his brow arched in cynicism. “Was she aware that your only contributions have been to the local strip club on fourth?”

  “Whatever, you little turd. I’ve done a lot for the community. Like just the other day, Jordan and I helped Gamma house with their summer fundraiser.”

  Another skeptical look from my brother. “Isn’t that the house full of cheerleaders? And if I’m not mistaken, the so-called fundraiser was actually a kegger that had a cover charge at the door; hardly what I think they were looking for when they asked what contributions you’ve made.” He shakes his head. “Dylan, at this point, you’re so deep in your own world of denial, you may as well just lie and save yourself and those related to you the embarrassment.”

  With two large strides, I’m at my desk, pulling my brother’s gangly body from the chair and taking a seat. “I don’t see what’s wrong with this; it’s real.”

  “Dylan, how about a little less your reality and more of the other ninety-nine percent of the world's population.”

  I turn in my seat. “Now see, that there’s the problem—conformity. Just because you don’t like what I have to say, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

  “Agreed—you’re right. But if it makes others around you feel alienated, then maybe you should filter your opinions and learn to deliver them in more of a positive way; like, oh, I don't know...never.”

  Righteous little prick.

  He’s always doing this, telling me that I need to tone it down because I intimidate and offend people. I don’t see it. I mean, what kind of person and friend would I be if I went around lying to people when they asked for my opinion? Obviously, they’re asking because they want insight from the top, so it’s my responsibility to give them just that—honest insight.

  “If I filtered what I thought, I’d be doing a grave injustice to those who come to me for guidance. I’d be misdirecting them into believing that life’s fair and that we’re all created equally. Little brother, the reality is, our current socioeconomic status is based on a multi-tiered system, and as much as you try to deny and shun the life we’ve been afforded, you’re still right up there on that top shelf with me and the rest of the one percent.”

  He shakes his head, almost as though in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?” I question.

  “How someone with your infinite level of intelligence is still so grossly ignorant and oblivious. I don’t know what’s worse; that you believe what your mouth’s spouting, or that the masses of adolescent minds still seem to flock to you to hear it—it’s ridiculous.”

  My face splits into a wide grin. “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

  “Dylan, all that tells me is that there’s a serious problem with today’s youth—drones...the lot of them, at least the ones you choose as consorts.”

  I ponder that for a moment, knowing full well it should bother me, but it doesn’t. I shut my laptop, pulling it off the desk and tucking it under my arm. “I’m submitting it.”

  With a dismissive shrug, my brother looks to me. “You do you, Dylan. As long as you're here to give me a ride to school, I’m good with whatever your hierarchical heart desires.”

  I turn, giving him a pointed look. “See, had you just started with that, we wouldn't have wasted all this time on a life lesson and been late for school. Now, get moving, our chariot leaves in two minutes.”

  I walk out of my room, letting out a chuckle at the groans and curses behind me as my brother realizes he’s still in his boxers.

  “Two minutes, little brother, or you’re walking.”

  Okay yeah, maybe I’m a prick, but who can blame me when it’s so much damn fun.

  “Fresh meat on your six.”

  I look up to my friend Jordan shaking my head. “You do know my six is behind me, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Exactly how do you expect me to be discreet when I have to turn around to get a good look at her?”

  Jordan glances around the quad as though the answer’s out there somewhere, then just shrugs. “I have no idea, but she’s hot. A solid ten with those sure-thing good time eyes.”

  “Yeah, no, that’s too much effort this early in the morning. Besides, women are not on my list of priorities this year. I’ve got a lot riding on my

  acceptance to Stanford Law. If I mess anything up, I may as well say adios to that and the cushy corner office at my father’s firm.

  “I thought the job with your dad’s firm was a done deal?”

  I nod. “It is, but I still have to keep up the pretenses that the other applicants have a fair shot, which means, walking in with anything less than a perfect GPA and a diploma with Stanford Law inked across the top, just won’t do. Besides, my father may have the final say, but he’s still very much about business, and if I show that I’ve allowed some hot side piece to distract me, he’ll cut me loose; son, or not.”

  “Hard, man. My dad’s just happy I’ve managed to maintain my grades enough not to get kicked out,” Jordan says.

  Jordan and I have been friends since before I can remember. His father’s a huge real estate developer and has done well for himself, which also means he isn’t around much, much like my father. However, unlike mine, Jordan’s dad, to make up for his absence, has always been lenient with him. My father calls him one of those liberal types—personally, I think he’s a pretty decent guy. He’s always been there for Jordan when it matters, not something I can easily say about my father; actually, I can’t say it at all. Whenever there was something parental that he was obligated to do for my brother or me
, he would just call up Connie, our housekeeper, to take care of it.

  Shit—is that the life I’m headed for?

  “You know what, a little distraction never hurt anyone.”

  Jordan lets out a laugh and leans over to pat me on the shoulder. “Now there’s the Dylan I know and love.” He tilts his chin in the direction of the girl sitting behind me. “Maybe she has a friend, or better yet, a twin sister.”

  “Jord, we both know it’s a sin to break up a set, not to mention a long-standing unbreakable rule.”

  He looks to me, his brow perched high. “What do you propose we do?

  “Coin toss,” I suggest, and with a slight nod from Jordan, I pull the coin from my pocket.

  Cupping the coin in one hand and laying it on top of the other, I call heads.

  “Why do you always get heads?” Jordan asks.

  “Because it seems to always work for me. It’s my thing.”

  He looks to me suspiciously. “Well, what if I want heads?”

  “Call up Lily Miller. Now stop complaining like a little girl.”

  I toss the coin up then catch. When I lift my hand, Jordan lets out a groan. “Every

  bloody time. I swear you have a horseshoe lodged up your ass.”

  I shrug. “You can’t fight fate. What’s meant to be is meant to be. Isn’t that what you

  always say?”

  Jordan lets out a defeated sigh. “Whatever. You better hope for your sake she’s not a fraternal twin, and the other half’s a dude.”

  “Why would you even say that?”

  “Just reminding you that it’s your rule not to break-up sets,” he mentions with a smirk.

  I shrug. “Maybe he’s got a hot girlfriend he can bring along.”

  “Dude, that’s just all kinds of unfair. Why am I even your friend?” Jordan stands, walking from the table.

  Looking down, I let out a chuckle as I open my hand holding the coin.

  My lucky coin.

  My two-headed coin.

  It’s the same coin I’ve been using for years with Jordan to settle our disputes, and he’s yet to catch on.

  I tuck it back in my pocket and grab my bag off the table. As I swing my legs over the bench, I see the woman of the hour—fresh meat—hello!

  That’s one thing I’ll give my best friend; he certainly has a keen eye for spotting the finest of creatures—a keen eye indeed.

  Chapter 2

  Velyn

  I wake to the sun beaming through the sheer shade, barely covering my bedroom window. Usually, I would just roll over and pull the comforter above my head, but today’s a whole new kind of day. Today brings new beginnings—college. Sure, it’s two years late, but with the reality that is my life, I had no other option than to postpone for a couple of years.

  I graduated high school on the honor roll and had some great perspectives for out of state universities. However, that all changed when my mother passed away the summer before what would’ve been my freshman year. Everything changed that summer. My father decided he no longer wanted to cope with the mundane day to day functions, leaving me to carry the responsibilities that were once his as he turned to nights of burying his sorrows in a bottle and his days passed out on the couch in our living room. It got to the point that he wasn’t even able to hold down a job. I was devastated when they let him go, and I hate admitting this, but even as his daughter, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. He was a mess, and slowly with each drink he was starting to take everything and everyone down with him.

  Within six months, we’d lost everything. I had no other choice than to pick up the pieces and try to regain some of the normalcy we had before, so I took on a job at the diner just down from the university campus. It’s about a twenty-minute drive from where I live, but I was hoping I would’ve been able to start up classes the second term. Obviously, that didn’t turn out the way I had planned, but I stayed on because the owners of the diner, Joan and Stu had been more than good to me. They let me pick up extra shifts when available, and even worked around me having to take care of my father when necessary. The money was just enough to pay the bills in the small two-bedroom apartment I rented, and the extra shifts allowed me to put some money away for school.

  From time to time, Joan asks why I’m not angry with my father for just giving up. My response—you had to know the love they shared to understand that to him, he’d lost the air to breathe—he no longer saw a future. I know he has a daughter and that he should want to do more for me, but the depression is so severe that he just can’t find the will to continue.

  I have only the best memories of my father. Eighteen years of the best memories, so I guess when it came down to it and my father fell apart, I looked at it like this. I was at least fortunate enough to have had the times I did when things were good, because there are so many that don’t even get that.

  So, now today, I finally get to start my new journey. One I’d been longing to take for so long, but the funny thing is I don’t seem to be as excited as I thought I would. I wonder if it’s because before I would’ve had my mother waking me with one of her ear-to-ear grins, joined by my father behind her clapping and singing some off the wall jingle he made up? Or is it merely that I no longer have it in me to make this work? I have so many other things to deal with that maybe my dream of a university degree is something I should’ve just let go of.

  Well, whatever it is, it’s too late now. I’ve committed, and I never back out on a commitment.

  My alarm sounds again, yet another reminder of my hesitation. I amble toward the bathroom to get ready, then once finished, head into the living room. As per usual, my father’s taken up residence on the worn couch. I walk over, tapping him gently on the shoulder as not to startle him.

  “Daddy, I’m leaving.”

  Having hoped that he’d remember today’s the big day, I’m hit with a small tang of disappointment when he only offers a groaned, ‘have a good one.’ Taking in a deep breath, I quickly push it aside; I really shouldn’t have expected different.

  Giving my father a light kiss on the temple, I whisper for him to have a good day as well, although even I know at this point, he drinks solely to mask any sort of feeling at all.

  I decide to head to the diner before school to grab a coffee and one of Joan’s special cinnamon rolls. She uses a coveted family recipe that I’ve asked her many times for, but her reply is always the same—if I give it to you, then you would have no reason to come and visit me when you make it big.

  As I enter the diner, Joan’s there with a grand welcome, “Ladies and gentlemen, a big round of applause for our very own university student and future big shot CEO, Velyn Adler.”

  Now well flushed with embarrassment, I quickly look around thankful the only people here are Mr. and Mrs. Clark, an elderly couple that comes in every Monday after their seniors’ Aquafit class.

  “Much appreciated, Joan,” I murmur in a mock tone.

  She chuckles. “You had to know I wasn’t going to let you sneak in here without acknowledging your big day.”

  “Oh, I knew. I was just hoping you were in the back. I could’ve slipped in behind the counter, helped myself then slipped right back out, and you would’ve been none the wiser,” I reply.

  Laughing, Stu walks out of the kitchen. “Yeah, that was never going to happen. My Joanie’s had this day marked on the calendar since you told her you enrolled, that, and she hasn’t left the front counter since we arrived here this morning; she knew you’d try to pull a quick in and out on her.”

  I laugh. “Very well, but now that you got what you wanted, would you be so kind as to whip me up a coffee and cinnamon roll to go? I wouldn’t want to be late on my first day.”

  Joan smiles. “You got it! And for the new college girl, it’s on the house.”

  “Thank you, Joan,” I say with a chuckle. I can’t recall one time in the year and a half that I’ve worked here that they’ve let me pay for anything.

  Thankin
g Joan one last time as she hands me the order, I then remember. “Say, Joan, I only have one class today. If you could use the extra help, I’ll be free by eleven.”

  “Velyn, you know I could always use the help, but don’t you want the day to get familiar with things and maybe interact with some of your new classmates—you know, make friends?” Joan asks.

  I shake my head. “I need to pay bills more than I need friends, that, and I don’t need the distraction right now. It’s been two years since I’ve

  been in school, so I have a feeling there’s going to be some much-needed adjustment time for me to get the hang of things.”

  “Very well, but don’t cry tears of boredom when the only friends you have are Stu and me, and your weekends consist of Canasta and pillbox sorting,” she says.

  “I would never. Besides, I’m sure if we throw in some frozen pizza, it could make for a great time,” I reply with a chuckle then turn to the door. “Wish me luck.”

  “Show ‘em how it’s done, kid,” Joan hollers, and with those last words, I head out.

  Show ‘em how it’s done—I’ll be lucky if they don’t eat me alive.

  The site map they provided with my orientation package does not read true to the actual size of the campus—this place is enormous. I probably should’ve come here earlier last week just to figure out where my classes are.

  I slowly make my way around, turning the map and trying to figure out where exactly north is. It must be apparent that I’m lost, as a fair-sized skinny guy with perfectly combed hair and nicely ironed clothes walks up to me, asking if I need help.

  I look to him with my desperate gaze, and he lets out a laugh. “Here, let me see your schedule.”

  I hand him the paper, and immediately he knows where I need to go. “This here’s what I call fate; we have the same class—follow me.”

  “Thank you,” I let out in relief.

  Walking with me side-by-side, he starts up a conversation. “My name’s Chase, a first-year in the business program, and by your schedule I see you’re in the same.”