Beauty in the Broken: A Diamond Magnate Novel

by Charmaine Pauls

  The door closes for a second time, at last giving me the privacy I need. I pull the throw from Lina’s body. She’s lying on her back. Not ideal, but I’ll turn her soon enough. I make quick work of studying the color of her lips and nails. Blushing pink. Her breathing is even and strong.

  Gently, I slap her cheek. “Come back, Lina.”

  Her eyelashes flutter.

  Another slap. “Wake up, baby. Look at me.”

  She comes back with a gasp. Her eyes fly open and her mouth forms an O.

  “Easy.” With a hand curled around her nape, I help her sit up and give her the bottle of water from my nightstand. “Drink.”

  She takes a sip and flinches. She groans. She cries. “Why did you wake me up? I was good where I was.”

  “Drink more.”

  “Not thirsty.”

  “Try. You need to hydrate.”

  “Hurts.”

  “I know.”

  She manages a few more sips before I roll her onto her stomach and fetch an anesthetic cream from the bathroom. When I put a blob on my palm and reach for her, she says through gritted teeth, “Don’t touch me.”

  “I need to rub this into you.”

  “Get Anne or Jana.”

  “It’s me you’re stuck with. Take it or leave it.”

  She winces. Her pride takes a knock, but her pain won’t let her decline the promised relief of the medicine. I rub it over her back, ass, and thighs. She’s a portrait of red welts, and a couple of spots where the knots have left small bruises, but no skin is broken.

  “I hate you,” she mumbles when I recap the tube, tears dripping from the corners of her eyes onto the pillow.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’d rather we get on.”

  “Go to hell.”

  I smile. Ruined, but far from broken. That’s my girl. That’s the woman I sensed in the library. Strong. Resilient.

  “You should’ve just beaten me to death,” she says, staring non-seeing at the far wall.

  I chuckle. “It’ll take a lot more to beat a person to death. Your brain cut out. It’s a normal reaction to an overload of sensory stimulation.”

  “Pain, you mean.”

  “Yes, pain in this instance. You chose, Lina. I told you, it’s always in your hands.”

  “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose you.” Her voice rises steadily. “I didn’t choose—” She grapples for words like a fish would grapple for air. “I didn’t choose any of this.”

  “Shh.” I sit down on the edge of the bed and stroke her hair. “You need to save your energy to recover. It won’t help to get upset.”

  “I am upset. I’m not a doll with a button you can push to control my moods.”

  “I’m very aware of the fact that you’re not a doll.” I drag a palm up her inner thigh to the junction of her legs. She’s dry. This kind of pain doesn’t turn her on. Sad as it is, wrong and depraved, her pain makes me hard, and I’m not going to apologize for it. This is who I am. She made me, together with Dalton, and this is what she gets.

  “Don’t touch me,” she says, but she doesn’t push my hand away when my fingers probe and play, teasing her clit to make her slick.

  “You need this, believe me.”

  “I need nothing from you.”

  “You disobeyed me. I punished you. Now I’m going to please you.”

  “I don’t want you to please me.”

  I slide a finger inside, slow and easy. She’s already wet. She gasps. Her back bows.

  “Tell me this doesn’t feel good,” I challenge with a few shallow pumps.

  She cries out. I go faster. Her whole body pulls tight.

  “You get to choose. Tongue, fingers, or cock.”

  “Nothing,” she moans into the pillow.

  “Bad girl.” I smack her ass.

  She yelps.

  “You know how I feel about nothing.”

  “Damian, please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Just let me hate you.”

  “As much as you want. You have my permission. You also have my permission to come as hard as you like, whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m not a sex slave who comes on demand.”

  Enough of the defiance. “If you won’t choose, I’ll choose for you.”

  Spreading her legs, I kneel between them. She hisses when I trace a welt on her ass with my tongue.

  Burying my face between her legs, I say, “Oral it’ll be.”

  It’s not that I’m worried about getting her pregnant. On the contrary, tying her to me in blood is an excellent idea. There’s nothing I would’ve liked more than to sink my dick into her and make her come several times on my cock, but I’m too close to breaking. I don’t want to be rough with her. I want to be sweet, gentle, and slow until her pussy clenches and she utters that little distressed sound when she comes.

  The effect of the cream should be kicking in by now. Most of the pain should be gone, enough for her to focus on the tongue I bury deep in her pussy. She squirms, rubbing her thighs over my cheeks. I give a gently bite to remind her to keep still. Using my thumbs, I peel her soaked lips open and eat her out like a fruit, like a beautiful, bruised fruit. That’s what she tastes like. Her arousal is strong, her honey plentiful. Her senses are heightened. She’ll feel the orgasm all the way to her toes.

  It’s over quickly, but the intensity of her release leaves her heaving and panting. Bending her arm, she puts her head in the crook and hides her face from me. It’s only late morning, but I undress and lie down next to her.

  Gripping her hair, I turn her face to the side. She watches me with her cheek on her arm, her eyes dripping tears and her lips set in a defiant line.

  “Don’t try this again, Lina. It’ll never end well for you.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “Even monsters can be kind if you give them reason to be.”

  She closes her eyes. She’s exhausted, but we’re not done.

  “Look at me.”

  She lifts her honey eyelashes slowly. “You wanted me to know where the safe is. That’s why you let me see when you removed the necklace.” Bitterly, she adds, “It was a test.”

  “Now it’s a lesson.” I kiss her nose. “Tired?”

  “Yes,” she says from the cushion of her arm, so pretty and so wronged.

  “We’re almost done, then you can rest.”

  Alarm flitters into her eyes. “Are you going to cut off my finger?”

  Is she joking? “I’ll never mutilate you, no matter what you do.”

  Her torso deflates, as if she’s blowing out a breath. She’s a million shades of sex appeal, but right now she’s the cutest woman I know.

  “It still hurts,” she complains.

  “What baby, Lina?”

  She blinks. “What?”

  “You said you need those papers for your baby. What baby?”

  “It’s noth—I mean I don’t even know what I was saying. You were whipping me so hard. I was probably hallucinating.”

  Right. I’ll let it slide for now. “Next time you pull a stunt like that, I’ll break skin. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she says on a broken whisper.

  It hurts me, that little whisper. I’m still hard for her, but not for her pain. Not the emotional kind. It says a lot. I’m not hiding my head in my elbow. I see the truth for what it is. I’ve always been lusting after Lina, but my feelings for her are growing stronger, overshadowing the physical. Needing to escape my thoughts, I go to the bathroom to fetch painkillers and take enough time to get my mask back in place. I feed her two pills with more water and watch over her until she falls asleep.

  I make sure the room temperature is comfortable so I don’t have to cover her. After dressing, I head downstairs to tell Jana Lina is unwell and won’t come down for lunch. I instruct her to prepare a tray for Zane to deliver. Then I call the agency and get a new man—their best after Russell—for Lina. When he arrives, I brief him before going in search
of Zane. I find him and Anne at the pool. Anne avoids looking at me. Zane appears wounded, as if I whipped him instead of Lina.

  “She’s sleeping,” I say. “Jana will prepare her a tray. Take it up at lunchtime. Call me the minute she wakes.”

  I expect him to say something lame like not being a babysitter, but he nods.

  “Sure thing, Dami.”

  “I’ll be back after lunch to check on her.”

  I’m about to add that I have hidden cameras in every room of the house but bite my tongue. I may not trust Lina, but she won’t tell a lie without good reason. It’s time to find out if Zane is still on my side.

  It takes an hour to drive to Brixton. Dalton doesn’t act surprised to see me. He lets me see myself in and takes the only seat. It suits me. I’d rather not sit on the greasy sofa.

  “I’ve been to Willowbrook.”

  His expression gives nothing away. “Sending her back already? Is she becoming a burden?”

  “Why did you send her there?”

  He props a foot on the coffee table. His toenails are yellow and in need of a cut. “She needed help.”

  I kick his foot away. Didn’t his mother teach him manners? “Help as in drugs and isolation?”

  “She tried to kill herself.”

  “Yeah, by jumping out of a window and going on a hunger strike. I read the report. The thing is, she doesn’t seem like someone who’ll starve or jump. Neither does she like being locked in, as she supposedly did to herself.”

  “What’s your point?” he asks with an oily smile.

  He reminds me of an eel, slippery and hard to nail.

  “There’s more to the story. Tell me about her baby.”

  It’s the magic words. He goes stiff and blanches before stretching to hide it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You remember the evidence?”

  “Of course, I do. What kind of stupid question is that?”

  “She said she needed the evidence for her baby.”

  “She’s delusional. Her mind isn’t right.”

  “Right.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  I could whip him, but he won’t be able to handle a tenth of what Lina took. He’ll crumple after the second lash, piss himself, and sell me more lies. I can’t trust the filth that comes out of his mouth, not even under torture. That’s okay. There are other ways.

  “All right,” I say.

  His shoulders sag. “Just like that?”

  “Have a nice life.”

  “Tell Lina I say hi.”

  I slam his door, only feeling better knowing I’m condemning him to the life he deserves. I hope he suffers long and hard.

  Lina

  The noise of the curtains being yanked open wakes me. I sit up with a jerk, blinking at the bright light. Anne stands in front of the window with her hands on her hips.

  “Chill, Lina. It’s only me.”

  Grabbing the sheet, I clutch it to my chest. My body aches everywhere. My arms are sore and my leg muscles are cramping, but it’s nothing compared to the fire in my back. I must’ve rolled over in my sleep, and the sheet got stuck to my sweaty back. It hurt when I peeled myself away.

  “What do you want?” I’m groggy and sore. I don’t have time for games.

  “Damian messed you up pretty badly, huh?”

  “Please, go. I’d like to get dressed.”

  “Need help?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “I came to see if I should call a doctor. Social services?”

  “Will calling social services make a damn difference?”

  “No.” She sighs like it matters. “Damian already owns most of this town, and the system is corrupt.”

  “Then why bring it up?”

  She shrugs. “I was thinking out loud.”

  Right. “What do you want?”

  “For someone who invited me to stay, you’re not very happy to have me here.”

  “Just get to the point.”

  She walks to the bed and sits down. “I know why you asked me to stay.”

  She waits, but I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of admitting anything.

  Another sigh. “You were hoping I’d be a diversion. Admit it, Lina. You wished Damian would be interested in me, so you didn’t have to entertain his sexual appetite.”

  Does she know I’m jealous? Does she know how I felt when I saw her exiting this room with her dress askew?

  “Listen.” She pats my hand as if we’re old friends. “Here’s the deal. You make space for me, I distract Damian, Zane finds you the evidence, and then you leave.”

  “Make space for you?”

  “Give me a chance with Damian. Create opportunities for us to be alone.”

  The urge to push her to the floor is so big I have to fist my hands in the sheet. “He doesn’t want to be with you.”

  Her smile is faint, yet strong. The gesture is full of self-assurance and confidence. “Once you’re out of the picture, he will.”

  “I won’t reject him just to drive him into your arms. That’s wrong.”

  “It’s your only chance at freedom. That’s the price.”

  My mouth drops open. “Are you bribing or blackmailing me?”

  “Call it whatever you want. You give me Damian, and Zane gives you freedom. It’s a fair deal.”

  I clutch the sheet harder, feeling the cotton stretch under my fingers. “Can Zane get the combination of the safe?”

  “Where there’s a will, there’s always a way.” She winks and gets up. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

  Oh, I get it, loud and clear. Zane wasn’t going to give me the evidence for nothing. They were playing me, both of them. Zane knows he doesn’t stand a chance with Damian, who’s as straight as a big, bad, mining magnate can be, so Zane brought in his sister. The scene that played out on the stairs when Zane all but assaulted me was just an opening act for the main one playing out here. It was to get me thinking, to manipulate me into asking for Zane’s help. It set the ball rolling. I took the bait. Now they’re revealing their price.

  Astonished, I stare at her. “Why?”

  “Why would I help you?”

  She’s not helping me. She’s serving her own purpose. “Why do you want Damian so badly?”

  She shakes her head, regarding me as if I’m a stupid, dirty dog that trudged mud into a clean house. “The fact that you even have to ask shows how naïve you are. He’s handsome, hot, successful, wealthy, feared, and a stud in bed.” She taps a finger to her chin. “That about sums it up.”

  I can’t help but get in a jibe. “You haven’t slept with him. You can’t know how he is in bed.”

  “Rumors, darling.” She wags her eyebrows. “Are you confirming them?”

  “You should get out now.”

  “I expect you to make the first opportunity tonight. Zane is going out. Give me time alone with Damian.”

  “How am I supposed to arrange that?” I exclaim.

  “You’re creative. Fake a headache. Better yet, tell him your back is sore. He’s got to believe that.” She straightens her dress. “I have some beauty sleep to catch up with. Got to look my best tonight.” Her smile is smug as she darts around the door, leaving it open.

  My heartbeat is loud and sluggish. A mental image of Anne in Damian’s arms, in this bed, invades my brain, but I expel it quickly.

  Maybe Anne deserves him. I look over my shoulder at my bruised back. I sure as hell deserve better.

  Damian

  Zane sends me a text to let me know Lina ate the lunch Jana prepared and has a sudden craving for jelly beans. Jelly beans. He’s going to the supermarket to get her some. It’s after lunchtime when I finally get the meeting at the office wrapped at. Traffic is a bitch. It’s late afternoon when I get home. I go upstairs to check on Lina but find her nowhere.

  I knock on Anne’s door. She opens it a few seconds later wearing nothing but a short robe and the kind of blindfold they use
in beauty salons on her forehead.

  “Have you seen Lina?”

  “No.” She yawns. “I was having a nap.”

  Taking the stairs two by two, I run down to the kitchen and ask Jana the same question. From the way she smiles at me, Lina hasn’t told her what’s happened.

  “She’s in the garden.” Jana points at the window. “There, by the bat boxes.”

  I turn my gaze to where Jana indicates. Lina’s hair, tied in a messy ponytail, shines like yellow gold in the sun. She’s drowning in one of my shirts, looking cute and sexy and like mine. I can’t tell if she’s wearing anything underneath. The shirttail reaches the back of her knees. Barefoot, she climbs up a ladder resting on the wall that cordons off the herb garden and peers into the wooden box fitted under the gutter.

  Relief rushes through me. What did I expect? That Lina would’ve run after this morning’s lesson? Not even Zane would’ve bailed if I’d whipped him like I whipped Lina, and he’s a tough motherfucker.

  Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I make my way outside, and stop next to the ladder where I have a nice view of Lina’s legs under the shirt. She’s wearing a cotton exercise short. Not totally naked under my shirt, after all. My possessive side is relieved. She’s mine to look at, to touch, and to punish.

  The ladder rattles when she moves. I nearly have a fucking heart attack. My uncle died falling from a ladder. A broken rib punctured his lung.

  I grip the ladder on both sides to secure it. “Get down from there.”

  She startles and presses a palm to her heart. “For the love of Adam. You scared me.”

  “Hold on with both hands.”

  Her gaze sweeps over me. Annoyed. “What are you doing here?”

  The angry schoolmistress look makes me hard. “I live here.”

  She wants to roll her eyes, it’s there in the way she glances at the heaven, but she doesn’t. “You know what I mean. What are you doing home so early?”

  “Checking on you and just as well.”

  Ignoring me, she turns her attention back to the wooden box.

  “You shouldn’t be out here in the heat of the day.”

  “What do you care?” she mumbles with her nose in that damn box.