Sublime Spa Cambridge Novels & Stories

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

We had been married for three years, and together, our income was decent at twenty-six grand a month. Yet, we barely had two hundred bucks in savings. My husband was a nice guy, lending practically his entire wages to our next-door widow and her daughter. He covered their expenses when the daughter needed money for school, when the widow needed a little time at the spa, and when they wanted to give their home a new facelift. The moment my father fell ill and needed surgery, I went next door to ask for the money back. However, my neighbors slammed the door in my face. “Your husband chose to give us the money. Why should we pay you back?” Enraged, I sought help from my husband, only to be criticized. “I felt bad for them. Why did you demand payment when they are already struggling? What’s wrong with you?” I smirked. That night, I decided to do a good deed by spending my entire paycheck to help a broke college hunk. The next day, our power was cut off for unpaid bills, and my husband lost an unfinished document he hadn’t saved. Putting his finger up my nose, he gave me a piece of his mind. “Where’s your money? Why didn’t you pay the bills?” I replied with the most innocent look on my face, “I helped a struggling college student. His life was falling apart because he had to deal with a sick mom and a deadbeat dad. His needs should come before the utility bills.”

​“One night, one price. After that, you are mine until the debt is paid.” ​Ava Williams was the “No-Extras” girl at the Velvet Room Spa...until the $180,000 bill for her grandmother’s life-saving surgery landed on her desk. Desperate and out of options, she walks into the lion’s den: the penthouse of Nico Jordan. ​Nico is the city’s most ruthless billionaire, a man with a heart of stone and a back covered in scars he allows no one to see. Their first meeting ended with Ava’s hand across his face and a fire in her eyes that Nico hasn’t been able to forget. He doesn’t want her apology. He wants a contract. ​ The Rules are simple: ​She lives in his home. ​She obeys his commands. ​She must never fall in love. ​But as the "contract" unfolds, the cold transaction turns into a burning obsession. Ava discovers that the dominant man who "bought" her is the same broken boy she saved from a horrific fire years ago. Just as she begins to see the man behind the monster, the billionaire's elite world conspires to tear her down. ​Between a jealous socialite ex-fiancée determined to humiliate the "spa girl" and the sudden return of Ava’s first love…now a wealthy rival out for Nico’s blood. Ava is caught in a web of betrayal. ​But Nico Jordan and his enemies have made one fatal mistake: they think Ava is just a pawn. They don’t know about the secret bloodline running through her veins or the inheritance that is about to make her the most powerful woman in New York. ​He bought her for a night. He’ll have to crawl to keep her for a lifetime. WARNING!!! FOR MATURE READERS ONLY.

Peter Cooper lives in the town of Capistrano. After being dumped by girlfriend Amelia his friend James arranges a job at Trans-Port, bossed by the famous Professor William Carver. Carver’s assistant is an American woman called Claire. Peter is pressurised into being a guinea pig for the company’s teleportation experiments and gets sent to another reality ‘The Projection’. On returning he's told Trans-Port have mentally imprisoned him in Capistrano slnce ten. The programme is a wormhole to another reality and Peter is forced to go back there and bring home its creator, his brilliant scientist father John, so Trans-Port's teleportation system can work successfully. The Projection is only programmed for John and Peter’s DNA. Peter finds the alternate reality called ‘Guildford’ similar to Capistrano but landscape and identities have changed. He meets another ‘Claire’, now English. She helps him find his ‘parents’ who informed his doppelganger (Other Peter) is a successful scientist, married to Amelia and working for Kilgore Industries in ‘Cambridge’. They are also building a teleportation device. Realising 'his' John might have gone there, Peter follows. At Kilgore he finds another ‘James’, now ‘Other Peter’s’ Project Manager. He pretends to be his doppleganger's non-existent brother to find out about an 'accident' on the site. That night a dream shows ‘Other Peter’ involved in a metaphysical reaction to the accident. John asks Peter to help him find out more about it. They force Amelia to take them to ‘Other Peter’ at Kilgore. They find him trapped between two states of reality just like Peter’s dream. Peter forces John to return to Capistrano but Carver appears telling him neither realty actually exists. The accident killed Peter and he is now purely cyber intelligence. But is this true? Can Peter’s REAL life still be saved?

My sister, Fiona Miller, has recently opened a luxury spa for business. As such, I bring Dad along to check it out. Of course, we pick the most expensive treatment package available. But barely a few presses from the male therapist, and Dad feels a sharp pain in his chest and can't seem to breathe properly. All the color drains from his face, and cold sweat starts beading on his forehead. I call the manager over, but he seems annoyed. "Oh, he just has poor blood circulation. He'll be fine after the massage. That's just a normal reaction." I can't believe what I'm hearing. "My father has a heart condition. What are you lot even doing to him?" The manager, Seth Zeller, explodes as if I've insulted him and raises his voice. "That's his own pre-existing condition. How is that our problem? We run a legitimate business here. No refunds once treatment begins. Got it?" I gesture at the credentials displayed on the wall. "I don't see your name anywhere up there. You're not even certified. Is this the kind of operation Fiona's running?" Seth folds his arms across his chest, looking down his nose at us. "I'm the boss here. You and your dad look broke as hell. I can tell you're just trying to get a free massage and walk out without paying." "Let me spell it out for you. This package is 38,000 dollars. Adding in the cost of my emotional distress and lost time, the total is 100,000 dollars. Pay up now, or I'm having you both arrested." A massage that almost kills Dad costs 100,000 dollars? So that's why Fiona was suddenly so eager to open this spa. As it turns out, she and her boyfriend are running a fraud scheme. I reach for my phone to call her, but Seth is already making a video call. "Babe, you need to get here right now. A couple of deadbeats are trying to get a free massage and walk away without paying."