Adrian (Filthy Rich Alphas)
Carmen continued to read from her book. “Rak knew what he needed to make this all happen. He needed the god's seed, the enchanted forest's willingness to help, and a warlock to take care of and raise his future partner. He needed to do the impossible.”
Carmen looked up from her book as the audience jumped up and cheered.
I got a better look at what she had on. She wore one of her signature dresses—bright colors and thin flowing material that formed around her body. I wished I could tear it off her.
The crowd roared and clapped some more.
I remained seated.
One day, I’ll be in the crowd.
She’d made an ugly situation amazing. My jacking off in her bedroom had bred a whole world of gods, goddesses, and warlocks that served them all.
I love you, Carmen.
I got up as everybody sat back down, ready to sneak away as if I’d never been there in the first place.
“So this novel will be released in a year. I just wanted to give you all a nice little teaser,” Carmen said.
People groaned at the news.
That had to be a good sound for an author. Sure, they missed her writing, but it had to stroke her ego. Her fans craved another hit. She deserved their addiction.
I walked off and slipped between a young couple. People crowded the place, wall to wall. Carmen’s publicist no doubt danced for joy in the background. A few news cameras and photographers had even arrived.
“I also have something pretty hard to confess.” Carmen’s words stopped me. I knew her so well I could read the emotion in her voice, and all of a sudden, she sounded scared.
What happened? What’s wrong, my love?
I turned around and ducked behind a bookshelf.
“You are all my fans.” Carmen motioned to the audience. “And regretfully, I must tell you that I’ve lied to you in the past.”
Gasps ensued. Whispering came next. Cameras flashed, and Carmen nervously blinked through it all.
No, Carmen. Don’t do it. You don’t have to.
“I’m not who I said I was. While the woman from the novel Concrete Rose does exist, she is not me.” She turned to her side and gestured for an older woman to come up to the podium. “The bio that I claimed was mine, an impoverished young woman growing up on the streets as she dealt with trauma from child abuse and molestation... ” Carmen sighed. “Well, that woman is my mother.”
More gasps, but this time, everyone turned their attention to the old woman making her way to Carmen. She took her time. Gray dreadlocks covered her head and draped her shoulders. She used a cane to help her with each step, yet her face glowed with a lovely youthfulness. Had she not had the cane or gray hair, I would’ve thought she was in her thirties. But how that woman glowed with beauty.
Damn. If this is any indication of what Carmen will look like in the future, then sign me up.
Carmen put her arm around her mother’s shoulder and then looked back at the crowd. “I’m sorry. Your trust is not something that I take lightly. My reasoning for the dishonesty was to get the word out about the book; however, I could’ve done it differently, instead of just going the easy route.”
No one said anything. I formed my hands into fists, ready to knock anyone out who wanted to disrespect her.
“I’m sorry, but I stand by my writing and my mother’s story, a sad one that needed to be heard. So I introduce to you, my mother, the woman who survived all of the atrocities that I included in the book.” She kissed her mom on the cheek as her eyes watered. “This is my mother who I owe my whole life to. This is a woman who has elevated me to places mentally and spiritually that I could have never gotten to on my own. This is my mother, My Concrete Rose.”
A tear spilled from Carmen’s eye as the whole audience cheered. Her jaw dropped. I could see all of the emotions spinning around in her eyes. Fear still swam there, but joy rose too. The clapping continued. People stood. Others hooted. The sounds of joy rose in the room. These people had read Concrete Rose and probably loved it for personal reasons that were dear to their hearts. They could not care less if the author lived the situation or not. All they needed to know was that it was true, that someone could rise out of any horrific situation thrown their way and survive.
The news cameras focused on Carmen and her mother as they answered more questions, and I hoped my dad sat in his cold, empty mansion, watching. How I wish I could’ve seen it, the day when Nicholas Ford lost, and a woman that I loved won. He might’ve taken my mother away from me, although she still existed in my heart, but he couldn’t keep me away from Carmen.