Desiring Dorothy Read online

  Desiring Dorothy

  Alana Albertson

  Nicole Blanchard

  Bolero Books

  Copyright © 2019 by Alana Albertson & Nicole Blanchard

  Cover Photography: Wander Aguiar

  Cover design: Aria Tan of Resplendent Media

  Editing: Anja Pfister of Hourglass Editing

  Pug: Maximus Lepera

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For everyone who believes in happiness somewhere over the rainbow.

  True courage is in facing danger when you are afraid…

  L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

  Contents

  Desiring Dorothy

  Prologue

  1. Dorothy

  2. Tin

  3. Crow

  4. Dorothy

  5. Tin

  6. Lev

  7. Dorothy

  8. Dorothy

  9. Tin

  10. Dorothy

  11. Crow

  12. Dorothy

  13. Tin

  14. Dorothy

  15. Crow

  16. Dorothy

  17. Tin

  18. Dorothy

  19. Lev

  20. Dorothy

  21. Crow

  22. Dorothy

  23. Wizard

  About Alana Albertson

  Also by Alana Albertson

  Alana’s Note

  About Nicole Blanchard

  Also by Nicole Blanchard

  Nicole’s Note

  Desiring Dorothy

  My Uncle Henry vanished on my twenty-first birthday, along with my beloved pug, Toto.

  The police have ruled his disappearance a suicide, but they never found a body or any trace of my dog.

  But I refuse to accept their ruling because I saw a man enter Uncle Henry’s house that night.

  I travel to the end of the earth to track down the man only to discover he’s a Navy SEAL. I soon realize I’m in over my head and can’t trust anyone around me.

  A heartless SEAL, a simple farmer, a cowardly mafioso. But they are just the pawns in the wizard’s game.

  This billionaire tech guru is the most powerful man in the world, and he is behind my uncle’s disappearance. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants.

  Unfortunately, he wants me.

  Prologue

  Dorothy—One Year Ago

  “Happy Birthday!” my friends screamed at me as I walked away from the car. They had just taken me out on the town for my 21st birthday. We’d had the best night partying and doing shots, but my head was throbbing, and I wanted to go to sleep.

  I blew kisses at my friends, who were sitting in the car waving at me. Their laughter filled the balmy night air. We were in the heart of tornado season, but, at least, for the night, the weather was calm and serene. What a perfect birthday.

  “Wait!” my best friend, Alice, yelled out of the driver’s side window. “I’ve got something for you.”

  Spinning around, wobbling a little, I picked my way across the grass to the gravel driveway where Alice and Wendy were giggling and singing to the music on the radio. I couldn’t make out the song, though I thought I heard something about rainbows. My head was so woozy I couldn’t be sure.

  Alice leaned out the door, and I noticed our roommate, Katrina, had passed out snoring against the passenger’s side window, though I couldn’t blame her. She must’ve been exhausted after her dressage competition today.

  I glanced at Wendy, who was normally super chill and lived with her head in the clouds. She’d been bubbly all night, but now she was quiet, and I realized she hadn’t yelled Happy Birthday with the others. She was feverishly texting, her brow furrowed.

  “You okay?” I asked Wendy.

  Her dark hair cascaded across her face as shook her head. “No, one of the boys escaped. Sorry, Dot, but I need to leave. I can’t imagine him being out there lost.”

  My heart sank. “I hope he’s okay.” Wendy had a heart of gold, taking care of all the kids in the group home she worked at. That was actually how we met—she was there when I was taken from my mother Willa’s house, before the courts gave my Aunt Glinda custody when I was eight.

  “That’s awful. Let’s go now.” Alice said, her expression concerned.

  I was buzzed and my headache was intensifying, but I didn’t want to abandon my friend. “Need me to come with?”

  Wendy, ever the considerate one, said, “No, that’s okay. It’s your birthday. Go home and hang out with your hot uncle. I don’t want to be a buzz kill.”

  Ha. Well, my Uncle Henry was hot. Gorgeous, in fact. I pushed a few super inappropriate thoughts out of my head.

  “You’re not a buzz kill,” I said. “Text me later when you find the boy.”

  “I will.”

  I gave Wendy a hug goodbye and turned my attention back to Alice. She shook her fist at me. “Give me your hand.”

  I braced one on the door and giggled at myself. “This isn’t one of those ‘dick-in-the-box’ jokes, is it?”

  “Better than dick,” she promised, and a rainbow of pills tumbled from her hand into mine.

  I eyed the pills with a healthy dose of suspicion. “What’s this?”

  “My man gave them to me. Trust me, you’ll love them.” She closed my hands around the pills and pushed me back out of the window. “Now go. Happy twenty-first, sweetie. We’ll see you back home. Enjoy your weekend with your family.”

  She said the last with a bit of a wry smile. That’s one of the things that drew the four of us together. Our lack of American pie families. Hell, I didn’t even know my father. The only thing I knew about him was that he was probably Mexican, considering the fact that I looked as Latina as they come, and my mother was as white as snow.

  Maybe that was why my mother never liked me much growing up. I know people say that, but what kind of mother could leave their child alone for days at a time without a thought in the world for their well-being? My earliest memory was waking up and realizing I was alone in my own house and being terrified I’d done something to scare my mother away. By the time they took me away from her, I was basically taking care of myself—which is what I’ve been doing every day since.

  On impulse, I leaned in the window and wrapped my arms around her neck. We couldn’t be more opposite—Alice had pin-straight, white-blonde hair and an almost manic look in her eye, whereas my brunette curls couldn’t be straight if they tried. I was also as sedate as they come.

  “Thank you,” I said into her hair, breathing in the scent of pot smoke and Victoria’s Secret Bombshell perfume. Katrina was still passed out in the back seat; I wondered if she had taken any drugs. Alice was more into the drug scene at college than we were, more open to losing control. I would probably be too if I had a mother like hers. Well, technically I did—but at least I was lucky enough not to have anything to do with my mom anymore. Either way, I didn’t plan on partaking in drugs, but Alice doled them out like candy—it was how she showed affection.

  “Anytime.” She then grinned wildly. “Call me if you get into any trouble.”

  “Like I would ever get into any trouble. Thank you for the wonderful birthday.” Once I was certain my legs were steady, I lifted a hand and waved. “See you Monday!”

  Music blared, and the car revved as Alice sped off down the long driveway of my Aunt Emma’s farm, where I was staying for the weekend. I felt bad that I wasn’t visiting Aunt Glinda, but she h
ad recently moved an hour away. I spent most of my time at college, which was just a town over from Aunt Emma’s farm, but it was nice to be in my hometown and visit from time to time.

  Aunt Glinda never married, and my mother, Willa, was gone more often than not. When I was about eleven, Aunt Emma married a younger man named Henry. He was nice enough, though a bit mysterious, good looking for an older guy, and whip smart, which was all I really knew about him. I was grateful for their hospitality though, because with Glinda gone, I really had nowhere else to call home.

  I pushed a hand through my tousled curls and stumbled my way to the front door. Maybe I did have a little too much to drink. I wouldn’t have, but Alice insisted. It was my 21st after all. She even kept to drinking water all night so she could be the designated driver for my birthday. I was lucky to have such great friends.

  The music of crickets filled my ear and the fragrance of sweet wildflowers tempted my nose. Above me, the sky was a blanket of brilliant stars.

  Life couldn’t get any better. I’d be finished with my last biology course soon, and, when I graduated, I’d be able to transition from part-time to full-time at the florist where I worked. I wouldn’t be like my mother. Bills would always be paid. Food would always be readily available. Maybe some people would have thought I set the bar low, but to me, financial security was everything.

  The door was unlocked, and I made a mental note to scold Henry for being so careless. I was conscientious even when I was tipsy. My pug, Toto, who was currently on a diet for being a tad, okay, more than a tad, overweight, waddled his way down the hall to greet me with loud yaps. I’d tried everything to train him not to bark and leap when he answered the door but to no avail. I didn’t mind; I loved him anyway—even if I also had to buy him the expensive diet kind of dog food. Henry had said he didn’t mind watching him. In fact, if I remember correctly, he’d said, “Dogs are better companions than humans most of the time.”

  I couldn’t exactly disagree with him.

  “Dorothy?” I heard him call from the living room. “Is that you?”

  The house was a classic southern farmhouse with a wraparound porch, but that was about where the similarities stopped. When Henry married Emma, they’d bought the land my mom and her sisters had owned, but lost due to finances, along with hundreds of the surrounding acres. They’d built this house and I remember thinking it was the biggest house I’d ever seen. It still was.

  “It’s me!” I hung my purse on the hook and remembered at the last second to plug my nearly dead phone into the charger.

  Toto danced around my legs until I lifted him—not as easy as it sounded—into my arms and followed Henry’s voice. I found him reclined in his leather chair with an empty wineglass on the side table by his elbow.

  It struck me, as it always did when I saw him, that I didn’t understand why he’d married a woman like Emma. Sure, she was beautiful, and she’d always been able to put on an act, men, especially fell for, but a guy like Henry, younger, built, and brilliant to boot, could have had anyone.

  Why her? To be honest, she never really seemed to like me. Tolerate me was the best she could do. I hated to sound like a brat, but I was secretly grateful that she was out of town this weekend.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  I grinned at him, who cared if it was a little sloppy around the edges? “The best. Thank you again for watching Toto for me. And for letting me stay here for the weekend since Glinda moved out of town.”

  His brown eyes twinkled, and I barely noticed the fine lines around them. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got you a present.”

  Henry—it was still odd to call someone ten years older than me my uncle—shifted and pulled a box from beside his chair. I stared in shock at the label. One I was certain he couldn’t afford. My knees buckled, and I plopped on the couch next to him. Toto barked in protest, then settled by my side. “You didn’t! I told you not to buy me anything.”

  “Happy birthday, Dottie.” He passed me the box and held up a hand when I started to protest. “Don’t argue. You deserve something pretty for your twenty-first birthday, and you’ve worked so hard this year.”

  “Uncle Henry,” I said as my throat clogged with emotion. “This brand is too expensive.” My hand caressed the luxurious box. The shoes probably cost more than my entire wardrobe combined. Glinda did okay for herself and I never wanted for anything growing up once I was placed with her, but we certainly never had enough money to afford things like this.

  “It’s your twenty-first birthday. You deserve something nice. All I ask is that you keep them. Wear them, chuck them into the back of your closet, pass them down when you have kids. I’d just like you to have them to remember me by.”

  It was an odd choice of words, but he was sort of an odd man, so I didn’t argue. Besides, who could say no to a gift like that?

  I lifted the lid reverently. I’d never received such an opulent present, which wasn’t shocking considering the way I grew up. Inside the box, nestled in a blanket of delicate tissue paper, were a pair of Manolo Blahnik rose gold, sequin pumps. They glittered in the dim illumination from the overhead lights as though they were studded in jewels.

  “Well?” Henry prompted. “What do you think?”

  “They’re beautiful. I almost feel bad for accepting them.”

  “Don’t feel bad. Try them on.” He pushed the box toward me, and his smile stretched wide across his face. He had a gorgeous smile; I couldn’t fault him that. Maybe it was the alcohol, but all of the sudden, it felt too intimate to be here, alone with him, putting on a gift he’d bought me. Sometimes I forgot he was only ten years my senior—twenty-one when he and Emma had married. Thirty-one now. I was the same age he’d been when he’d come into my life.

  I slipped off my plain, black wedges and pulled on the Manolo’s. They fit like a dream. I’d never worn anything so exquisite in all of my life. I didn’t know why he’d given them to me, but I was grateful. “Thank you, Henry. They’re wonderful.”

  “You’re welcome, Dottie. I wanted to get you something nice for your birthday.”

  “I think you outdid yourself,” I said with a laugh, then yawned.

  “I hope you’re not too tired to have a celebratory glass of wine with me.”

  Then suddenly, I wasn’t tired at all. All too aware of how alone we were, I swallowed hard, my head still buzzing from the alcohol. It shouldn’t be so easy to forget he was married to my aunt, but it was. There’d been a point when I was eighteen when I’d had a crush on him, but I thought I’d gotten over it.

  Apparently, I hadn’t.

  Maybe it was the alcohol.

  Hopefully, it was the alcohol.

  How long had it been since I had taken someone to bed? Too long, apparently. I didn’t set much store by relationships, I’d seen all too often what they did to my mother, but I enjoyed men and loved sex. But that didn’t mean I wanted a relationship.

  Clearly, I needed to reactivate my Tinder account if I was crushing on my aunt’s husband.

  “Is that a no?” he asked, when it had apparently taken me too long to reply.

  I looked up from Toto, who was lounging in my lap while I was petting him and met Henry’s eyes. Was it my imagination, or was there a palpable tension between us? Maybe having more alcohol wasn’t the best idea.

  I must have been more like my mother than I thought, because I found myself saying, “No, I’d love to,” before I knew it.

  “Excellent. We haven’t had much chance to talk since you’ve been home.” He started to rise, but I put a hand on his shoulder. “No, don’t get up. I’ll grab it for us. Plus, it’ll give me a chance to try out my new shoes.” I nodded to the remainder in his glass. “White?”

  “Whatever you want. It’s your special day.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Henry snuggled with my pug while I went to get the wine. Toto curled up in my uncle’s lap and began to snore loudly, content.

  I had to
leave before I did something stupid, like make a fool out of myself. There was no way a man like Henry, sophisticated, rich, and married would want anything to do with me. Which is why I got over the stupid crush I had on him in the first place.

  The trip downstairs to the wine cellar took a little longer than I planned because I had to navigate the stairs with care in my shoes. Everything would be fine. I’d have a glass of wine, a little bit of conversation. It was totally innocent. It would be so much more convincing if the room would stop spinning around me.

  Rows of shelves filled with glittering bottles greeted me in the basement. If my Aunt Emma had one vice, it was a good bottle of wine, so there was no shortage of selection. The bottles were laid in racks from left to right, with a storage closet and half bath at the base of the stairs. I chose a white at random, knowing little to nothing about vintages or bouquets, which only solidified the fact that Henry, even if he weren’t married to my aunt, was totally out of my league.

  He probably went for women who were sophisticated and cultured whereas most of my wardrobe consisted of t-shirts and flip-flops. It’d be insane to think he’d want someone like me.

  Maybe I’d take Alice up on the offer to hang out at one of the parties her boyfriend Lure often threw. It had to be easier than weeding through Tinder fuckboys.

  I couldn’t keep lusting after Uncle Henry, even if he had warm brown eyes the color of melted chocolate, more wit than a comedian, and a body to die for.