OWNED by Dominic (Possessed #1) Read online

  OWNED

  by

  Dominic

  The Possessed Series book 1

  KL Donn

  OWNED by Dominic

  Copyright 2016 Krystal Fahl

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication or any part of this series 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 both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your respect of the author’s rights is appreciated.

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

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Warning: This book is intended for readers 18 years or older due to bad language, and explicit sex scenes.

  Cover Model – AC Solie

  Photographer – RLS Model Images & Photography

  Cover Designer – Kari March Designs

  Edited by – KA Matthews

  Formatted by – Jaye Cox

  Table of Contents:

  Title page

  Copyright

  Blurb

  Quick note from the author

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty – One

  Twenty – Two

  Twenty – Three

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  More books from KL

  Special note from KL Donn

  Blurb:

  own /ōn/ - verb

  have something as your own or possess

  Him

  A life made of ruthless decisions and a demanding career made Dominic Slade a cold man living in a world of gray. On a mission to eliminate a drug trafficker in Ireland, he meets his match—in an 11-year-old girl. She opens his eyes to the light in the world with her sassy mouth and lack of fear.

  It’s just too bad she’s the daughter of his target.

  Her

  One moment in time and her life is ruined. At six years old her world is shattered, all illusions of safety tossed out the window. With her Mam gone and her Da ignoring her except to scold her, Deidre O’Connor finds a companion in the tall scary man hired to be her bodyguard.

  Confusion and bitterness soon engrain themselves in her heart until she fights back and runs.

  Them

  On Deidre’s eighteenth birthday, she runs away in search of her place in life.

  On her eighteenth birthday, Dominic is sent to find her. Never expecting the little girl he used to know to have sprouted into a gorgeous, vibrant woman.

  When the sins of the past come back to haunt them, are they strong enough to fight together or will they be left in the cold...alone?

  Quick note

  Hi everyone! Thank you so much for asking for Dom and Dee to have their own story! I sure hope they live up to everything you could want for them!

  I would like to advise you that Jaxson (You’ll see) is very much based off my own son JD. Any mis-spellings in words are on purpose, because my son is one of the sweetest and most amazing little boys I know (I’m biased, I know LOL) So please excuse his speech patterns, but they are on purpose.

  Acknowledgments

  I truly couldn’t do this without my husband, Steve. I know I say this all the time, but having his support and encouragement has been a tremendous help to not only my confidence, but my drive to succeed. My need to be the very best for not only myself or him, but my children keeps me going. Love you guys!

  Mom, Grama, Sabine, and Barb – thank you for believing in me!

  Kaci Stewart – You are much more to me than a friend or PA, you’re an inspiration to be the best I possibly can. Everything you do for me from beta reading to talking to photographers and models and all the way down to being my voice of reason when I need to vent is just humbling. I can’t begin to explain how important you are in my life. Thank you for wanting to be a part of this journey with me!

  Dessure Hutchins – You’re amazing; your selfless support is admirable. Thank you for being such an inspiration for my Dee!

  Katrina Miller – Everything you do for every author you love, it’s something that is so rare and so… I don’t even know; I don’t have words for how amazing you are. You do so much for so many and expect nothing in return. You’re a true one of a kind gem; irreplaceable and unimaginable beauty. Thank you for being my friend!

  Sonya, Lynne, Crystal, Elena & Eve – My chatty sisters, the support we give to each is just tremendous! I’m so proud to call you ladies my friends!

  My Fighters – Your support and encouragement in this journey keeps me going, and makes me want to just keep getting better! Thank you!

  Bloggers – Thank you for supporting all of us authors!

  Fans – Thank you for wanting Dom and Deedee to have their own story!

  RLS Model Images, AC Solie – Thank you for such a wicked cover photo!

  Dedication

  For you Mom and Grama;

  Thank you for giving me that first Harlequin book when I was 15 Grama!

  Those started my love of the world of romance!

  Mom, hurry the hell up and read Kennedy! You need to start this new series!

  Prologue

  Deidre ~ 6 years old

  “…And they lived happily ever after.” Watching her mam put away her favorite fairy tale, Deidre was left with one burning question.

  “Then what happened, Mam?”

  “Well dear, he treated her like a queen. Made her every dream come true. They had beautiful children and grandchildren,” she told her in a thick Irish accent. It was something Deidre always envied because she considered herself just a plain Jane like the boys at school always teased her.

  “Mam?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes, Deidre?”

  “Did you get your happy ever after?”

  Her mam was one of the most beautiful people she knew, with hair as red as fire and eyes so green they matched the grass and always shone with happiness when she looked at Deidre. So she didn’t understand the sad light that entered them.

  “In a way I suppose I did, Dee. I have you, and that’s happy enough for me.” Her smile was stunning and brought a tug to Deidre’s lips to match.

  “Maureen!” The anger in her da’s voice had her cringing as he yelled for her mother. Even at her young age, she knew he’d been at the bottle again.

  “Off to bed with you, a stór,” she told her, cov
ering her with her blankets and turning on her fairy light, so it looked as if they flew along her roof.

  Together they said their own silly goodnight. “Leprechauns, castles, good luck, and laughter. Lullabies, dreams, and love ever after. Poems and songs with pipes and drums. A thousand welcomes when your dreams come.”

  “G’night, Mam,” she whispered sleepily.

  A kiss on her head was the only response before sleep took her to her dreams.

  *****

  When Deidre awoke the following morning, she knew almost immediately that something was wrong. Her mam normally had her fairy curtains open as soon as the sun rose; today they were still closed. Quietly rising from bed, she tiptoed to her door. Pressing her ear to it, she listened closely for movement.

  Not hearing anything, she slowly opened the door, and peeking out saw the hallway empty. Walking on eggshells so as not to wake her da, she crept down the stairs towards the kitchen to see if her mother was making breakfast. The day before, they’d watched a cooking show about American southern foods, and her ma had decided that today they’d try making biscuits and sausage gravy. Dee was so excited to try something new and thought they’d be doing it together. But once she arrived in the kitchen, her ma wasn’t there. Deciding, perhaps, she was tired from fighting with her father last night, Deidre thought she would get things prepared for when she came down.

  Moving to the small fridge in the corner, she started pulling out the ingredients they’d bought the day before. She removed the fresh rolls that just had to go in the oven, and the sausage roll that would need to be cooked. Next, she grabbed some fruit because Ma always liked to make sure she ate healthily. Even though Deidre would have preferred to slather sweet icing on her biscuits, she knew the fruit would make her happy.

  Sitting on the stool that was just a tad too high for her to reach the floor, she crossed her hands and laid her head on them looking at all the food she’d placed on the counter to cook with. Excitement buzzed through her veins as she patiently waited…

  And waited…

  And waited…

  Jumping up with a huff, she looked to the stairs asking no one in particular, “Where is me Mam?”

  Having lost her short will to wait, she started going back upstairs calling, “Mam? Are you up?” Still no response. “Mam, I have everything ready!” She sing-songed hoping to rouse her.

  When she heard rustling coming from the direction of her parent’s room, she started to feel excited again. Hoping her ma had only overslept, she rushed to the door and waited for it to open. Quietly knocking she whispered, “Mam, are you up?”

  Hearing a low moan, she began to worry. Opening the door slowly and trying not to make any noise, she peeked inside. The room was a mess! Holy cow, her ma was never that messy. She often joked she had OCD; whatever that was. The fact Deidre could see spilt makeup across her vanity worried her.

  Stepping further into the room, she was shocked to see her mam lying in bed with her face full of bruises, blood caked on the side of her mouth, and a black eye.

  “Mam!” she cried, rushing over quickly, careful not to touch her.

  Running her fingers gently across her hair, her eyes started to sluggishly flutter open. “Oh a stór, what are ye doing in here?” her Ma asked as her voice cracked painfully.

  “What happened, Mam?” She begged to know, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  “Nothing, my sweet. Back to bed with ya.”

  “But Mam, ‘tis morning.” She was confused now. Surely her mother knew it was the morning. That the sun was high in the sky now.

  “Oh dear,” she whispered sounding scared. Deidre watched as an emotion she couldn’t identify entered her mother’s eyes. It worried her in a way she didn’t fully understand, and a horrifying idea occurred to her.

  “Mam? Did Da smack you?”

  “Nah dear, let’s get you some food.” As she started to sit up, Deidre watched her with what her dad called an eagle eye. She watched every wince and sharp inhale of breath.

  Backing away but still holding her hand, she watched as her ma limped to the toilet. “Mam?” She asked before she could close the door, “Do you need a doctor?”

  “I’ll be fine, child. Go. I’ll be down in a wee bit,” she instructed.

  Waiting for a few minutes after the shower kicked on, she wanted to make sure her ma would be okay by herself.

  Slowly walking back to the kitchen, she was startled when she ran into a hard body. Looking up she saw Da with a cruel smirk on his face. He always seemed angry but never had he put fear in her the way he was now as he stared down at her young face.

  “What happened to Mam?” she asked him, her voice slightly shaky.

  A menacing smile spread across his lips as he began cracking his knuckles. “Nothing for you to worry about, kid,” he told her. But her eyes were glued to his hands.

  Cracked.

  Bloody.

  Bruised.

  “You hit, Mam?” she asked him angrily.

  “Sod off you little shit,” he said to her with so much hate in his voice.

  Hate directed at her.

  She was at a loss. Too shocked to know what to say...to do. Her father had never been the warmest man, but he’d certainly never been mean to her. Not like that.

  “Da?” she whispered; her upset clear as a bell. He just watched as the tears dripped gently down her cheeks.

  “You got something to say?” he snarled.

  She started to back away from him. The anger in his eyes setting them ablaze. She didn’t understand what was wrong with him. Hearing a noise from behind her, she looked back to see her mam tentatively coming down the stairs with a small limp and a hand holding her side.

  When the woman finally saw what was happening at the bottom she rushed down, putting her own body in front of Deidre’s. Protecting her. She couldn’t understand what was going on.

  “You best teach that bastard child some manners, Maureen.” He growled as he grabbed the delicate arms in front of him, making her cry out in pain.

  “Stop it, Da! Stop, you’re hurting her!” she cried out, pulling on her mom’s shirt.

  “Shut up, brat!” he screamed at her.

  “Bradshaw! You can’t speak to her that way.”

  Deidre watched in terror as his face went an ugly shade of red. “Mam?” she whispered in fear just as her out of control da backhanded her ma so hard she hit the floor with a cry of pain. “Mam!” the young girl cried out again, dropping to her knees just as she felt a tug on her hair so sharp it felt like it was being ripped out.

  All of a sudden, she was sailing through the air and hitting the wall just a couple of feet away. Dazed, she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. But she scurried back as pain assaulted her body, then the sound of heavy footsteps coming closer made her cringe.

  Closing her eyes tight, she waited for what was to come. With hot breath in her face and a hand gripping her chin so tight it hurt, he demanded, “Open your damn eyes.”

  Looking up, she shivered in fear as he told her, “Watch your fuckin’ mouth and mind your business.” At her nod, he had instructed, “Clean her up. She looks like shit,” before walking back out the front door with a slam.

  One

  Deidre ~ 10 years old

  “Deidre Lynne O’Connor get your arse in this house now!” She winced when she heard her dad screaming for her as she was dropped off from school. Barely out of her friend Jemma’s van and he had already started yelling at her.

  Sighing, she took her time walking up the steps to their not quite mansion in the middle of Dublin. She hated this house. It reminded her of the one from the American show The Addams Family—all spooky and creaky when no one was home.

  “Deidre!” he screamed again. His voice was full of anger now. She wondered what bug crawled up his arse this time. Over the years, since she was six years old to be exact, he’d been progressively getting meaner until her mom had
finally moved out when she was eight.

  Deidre didn’t blame her, not really. Her father beat her almost daily, and when he’d started taking his meaty fists to her, Ma just couldn’t take it anymore. She’d tried taking Deidre with her, but her dad was a powerful man and had run his wife through the mud, making her look like nothing but a drug-addicted whore.

  It couldn’t be further from the truth, but he was a world-class manipulator, and she was only eight, so no matter how many times she’d tried to say no, it would infuriate him. No one ever listened. So here it was two years later, and she saw her mom once a year on her birthday for a very short amount of time—time that she treasured.

  “Yes, Da?” she asked as she walked inside, stopping short when she saw a huge hulking man standing sentry at the bottom of the staircase and to the side of her father’s study.

  “Get in here,” he snapped from said study.

  “Please, would ya come in here,” she mumbled in a low, deep voice, wishing just once he would treat her like a person instead of a thing.

  A snort as she passed The Hulk had her stopping short and looking up into his stone cold face. His eyes betrayed his amusement. A small smile graced her lips as she walked into the study before fixing her face into a blank stare.

  *****

  Watching in amusement as the little spitfire went into his current employer’s study, he knew he should worry about her. But that small spark showed that she was tougher than her petite stature might imply.

  Dominic Slade had slowly been working his way into Bradshaw Williams, lll’s organization for over a year now. Williams was the CEO of Williams’ Fine Art Exchange, buying rare pieces of art and reselling it at a marked-up value. Sounded pretty straightforward; however, he had duplicates made of the paintings and laced the canvases with contaminated cocaine.