THE SCHEME
Mia Kayla
The Scheme
Copyright © 2015 by Mia Kayla
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Designer:
Sommer Stein at Perfect Pair Creative
www.perfectpearcreative.com
Developmental Editor:
Angela Smith
www.thebookwhispererediting.com
Copy Editor:
Meghan Hand
Proofreading: Becky Johnson and Kayla Robichaux
www.hottreeediting.com
Formatting:
Christine Borgford at Perfectly Publishable
www.perfectlypublishable.com
Table of Contents
The Scheme
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Newsletter
Thank you!
Marry Me for Money
Acknowledgements
DEDICATION
To my grandfather…
Papalo, there is not a single day I don't think of you.
I miss you.
I love you.
And I know we'll see each other again.
PROLOGUE
“Welcome to Evangeline’s Psychic Readings. Come in young ones.” Evangeline’s tone was rough, like she was suffering from a sore throat, though her face was serious.
My voice barely squeaked a greeting. “H-hi, I’m Kendall and . . . this is Beth.”
The psychic’s eyes perused my cousin before intently locking on mine.
Beads of sweat formed on the back of my neck as anxiety rose within me. As I turned back to her, she reached out, took hold of my hand, and flipped it over, surprising me, then she glanced down at my palm.
With a light fingertip, she traced the lines before her knowing eyes met mine again. It was haunting, like she could see into my soul, which sent shivers down my spine. “Hmmm.” She reached for my other hand, flipping it over and staring intently as though memorizing every moment in my life through my skin. “Hmmm.”
That was all she said before a wicked smile popped up on her face and she turned toward a curtain of beads, which functioned as a door to another room. “Come on back.”
I wrapped my arms around my stomach as nervousness bubbled in my chest.
Everyone knew of Evangeline. She was it, the psychic who knew all. People drove from all over the nation to have their fortune told by this one woman. Not to mention I had saved money from my last two birthdays for my turn with her.
She gestured for me to sit on the red cushioned stool in front of the wooden table for two. Well-worn tarot cards were perfectly placed on the circular table.
The build up to this moment was too much to take. I inhaled deeply taking in the scent of the strong incense coming from her candles that lit up the room. I peered back at Beth, who stood by the curtain as I sat down. She wasn’t a believer, but I appreciated that she was here for moral support. Though this was about me and my future, I needed her here. I hoped her lack of faith didn’t block any truth waiting for me in the stars.
Evangeline patted the top of my hand resting on the table. “Relax, child.” Her gray eyes fixed me with a stare. “I know what you came here for.” She said it with such certainty that, for the first time in a very long time, hope filled my veins and a lightness spread throughout my limbs. “You want to know what the immediate future holds for your mother.”
I released a calming breath at her words, because that was only one of the reasons I’d come.
“More importantly,” she continued, “you want to know your own future and I—” An eerie, knowing grin spread across her face. “—know exactly how it will unfold.”
ONE
BRIAN
It’s said that nice guys finish last. Sure, I believed it. At least, that had been my experience thus far. So if that was true, what was the point of being nice? It didn’t get you anywhere. It didn’t get me this job. It didn’t pay the bills, and it sure as hell didn’t get me the girl.
Six months ago, I had left Chicago. Six months. And yet I still thought of her. She had jolted me to the core when we didn’t work out. Maybe because I thought she could’ve been the one.
Who the hell knew?
I guess this was what growing up with three sisters and watching Dad and Mom’s perfect marriage did to you. I was bound to want the same things they had. But I was too young to be thinking of forever. What twenty-five-year-old guy thought of anything other than getting laid?
Me.
I had issues.
On another boring Friday night, I was sitting on my damn couch. My ass hurt from sitting at work all day, and now, here I was—sitting. My beer was on the table as my laptop rested on my lap. I shook my head, breaking myself from my random thoughts, and focused on the task at hand. I needed to get this proposal done.