Page 1 of Chase

Prologue

Theo

You can’t choose who your family are.

That’s what they say, and for some people, it’s a perfectly valid statement. But for kids like me, it’s not entirely accurate. I was chosen. You see, my folks went through the painfully long-winded process of adopting me before I had even taken my first breath.

Wyatt and Frances Chase had already tried the traditional route of having a child, but when no positive sign appeared on that pregnancy stick after over a year, they conceded that further testing would need to be done. Two rounds of IVF later, and still no baby. So they decided to offer their home, love, and family, to a kid who wasn’t wanted. A kid like me.

The only stipulation my birth mother had made at the time of adoption was that I never be told the real names of my biological parents. This might sound like a heartless demand, but from what little Wyatt and Frances have told me, it was one made from a place of love. Apparently, my father was a violent man whodabbled in shady activities, whereas my mother was much too young to have been doing what one needs to do in order to have an unwanted pregnancy. With this in mind, she decided she wanted me to be completely immersed in a new loving family and to have no connection to my sad beginnings. I respect her for this. In fact, I thank her for it.

My mother originally came from a traditional Spanish family who insisted you attend church every Sunday, even if you’re leg was hanging off and your heart was threatening to give out. Sex was for the marriage bed and your elders always had the last word. Being a little rebellious, she had met an American tourist at a beach party during one particularly hot summer in Andalucia. As well as being rebellious, she was also young and naïve; she fell in love quickly. It therefore hadn’t taken much persuading to convince her to move to America, without her family’s knowledge.Passport, I hear you say? No need when you’re the type of guy my father was. Speaking of, back on home soil, my sperm donor revealed what a thug he really was. But it was too late for regrets or second-guessing, for she was already pregnant and with nothing to her name other than fraudulent documents and a case full of beach clothes.

After hearing her sad tale, the Wyatts had offered to pay for my birth mother to travel back home; they even reached out to help her get back into contact with her family. But as soon as I was born and signed over to my adoptive parents, she vanished, as did my biological father. I like to think she did get back to her family, thus escaping the abusive bastard, but I guess I’ll never know.

Back tomylife and I can assure you it had been practically picture perfect. I lived in a beautiful house that sat a stone’s throw away from the beach, otherwise known as my playground. My uncle, from my mother’s side, taught me how to surf, whereas my parents taught me everything I needed to know about giving andaccepting love. I was a happy, contented kid with great friends, great family, and a great life. I was truly blessed.

That was until I was about ten years old. But two months after my tenth birthday, we had to move to England. To say I was gutted is an understatement. I didn’t want to leave all the things that I loved so much in California; I wanted to stay where I was happy to wake up every morning. I even loved getting up for school every day, because that’s where my friends were, my favorite teachers, and my home.

However, Dad was the guy who brought home the money to pay for this entitled lifestyle, so if his job was telling him to move halfway across the world, then that’s what he had to do. I knew this, I really did, but I still let them know how pissed off I was about it all. I was about as delightful as one would expect a pre-teen to be when faced with such an upheaval.

It was my mother who eventually had me conceding to accept what I couldn’t change, like it always was. Frances Chase was, and still is, the best of mothers, even though life had decided she could never have a child of her own. She knew how to calm the storm within me, knew how to soothe my fears, and could always turn a potential tragedy into an opportunity. I love her more than words can say, and I know she feels the same about me. It might be selfish of me to say, but I’m almost glad she was unable to have a baby of her own; if she had, I might never have got to call her my mother.

So, against every natural instinct screaming at me to stay put, even if it meant living in a cardboard box on the beach, I boarded a plane for England with my parents.

And thank God I did. Getting on that plane led me toher. Moving away from everything that I held close to my heart,brought me to the girl who would one day own it.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get to choose her family.

Neither did they.

Chapter 1

Present

Max

“I think I see her, boss,” I tell a guy I’ve never met before through the hands-free. “Between the old photograph you sent, and the barman pointing her out, I am virtually certain it’s her. What do you want me to do?”

“Send me a picture to be sure,” he huffs with a no-nonsense tone of voice. His American accent has me rolling my eyes over how arrogant this guy sounds. I bet he’s in some high-rise office with a crystal-cut glass of scotch and a view of the entire city in front of him.

“Er, no can do,” I reply with a wince, knowing how unprofessional this is going to sound, “my camera’s broken.”

The next minute is consumed by this jumped-up suit effing and jeffing at me, plus a few more expletives I’ve never even heard of before. I could try to explain that my girlfriend, Cheryl, hadbusted up my phone only moments before I came out tonight, but honestly, what difference would it make? The supposed love-of-my-life had been a little angry over my having to work tonight, not that she’ll mind spending the money I’ll get for a mere few hours of easy grafting.

“Sorry, boss, what?” I ask dumbly when I realize he’s been going on without me having listened to a single word.

“Just watch her, can you manage that?” he snaps, sounding completely exasperated by my incompetence. “Try and get close enough so I can hear, or at least so you can narrate for me. For fuck’s sake!”

“Why am I tailing her anyway?” I ask, which probably isn’t the wisest of things to say, but I like to know a bit about who I’m watching. Mum always did say I was far too nosey for my own good.

“None of your fucking concern, asshole,” he replies, which was pretty much the answer I was expecting. “Just do what I’m paying you for.”

“Ok. So, she’s leaning over the bar talking to the barman; they must know each other because they’re chatting and he’s laughing with her. She’s wearing tight jeans and a black satin vest, heels, and her hair’s all curly down her back. She’s…she’s…”

“She’s what? Choose your words very carefully,” he says, sounding extremely constipated and pissed off about this girl being all dressed up for others to see.

“Well, she’s fucking hot, Boss. There’s a big group of guys ogling her as we speak. They ain’t hiding it neither.”

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