Shattered Love : A Billionaire Romance (Forever Us Book 1)

by Bianca Borell

  “And I took it away from you. I am perfectly aware of it. Your accusations come in waves, which makes it hard to miss,” she says, and it angers the hell out of me.

  I count to ten and ask, trying for a calmness that eludes me, “How would you have viewed me if you knew I sired your misery?”

  “The same, I suppose.”

  Bria places a hand on her chest, and her eyes find mine, wide with sincerity as she hugs herself. “I’m tired, so incredibly exhausted. Torn between the past and the present, finding no place to be. I’m just wandering the world lost, worn out, and empty.”

  Good, but then why do I want to commit murder when her pain surfaces and hangs around us? One second, I wish to slay her demons, the next, to cage her in with even more of them. “Welcome to my world. How nice of you to not only choose me as your companion but confine me to the same destiny.”

  “Like we are bound together but always separate.”

  “The story of our lives, Bria.”

  Our eyes lock, and our hands clasp together. Rebellious thoughts brew in my brain as I shut my eyes and grit my teeth.

  DAMIEN

  Bria quits our gazing contest and shifts into a crossing-her-legs position. Her long hair and the sheet conceal some of her body, but I can still see too much of her mouth-watering nakedness, and I groan into my pillow.

  “My number two favorite memory is the day I picked your engagement ring.”

  Her face drops, and she stares at her hands.

  “I had it with me that day. My first reaction was to throw it in the trash, but I kept it as a reminder of how big a fool I was.”

  “Damien . . .” She squeezes my shoulders and her lips quiver. Watching her so affected plays havoc with me. What the fuck should I do? Her body against mine feels too good to let go, and still, I have to punish her for making me feel so damn weak.

  “What? Are you going to deny it, or are you searching for words that might potentially cheer me up? Trust me. There aren’t any, so don’t even try.”

  I suppress a growl at the irony behind my so-called restraint. Here I am a slave to her whims as I allow her to try and patch the wound she first inflicted. Tomorrow I will recoil at my pathetic ass, but until then, I will dive in the waves of the agony of having her.

  I clear my throat and continue, “There were still a few days until Christmas when I received a call from Cartier’s telling me the ring was ready to pick up. I went through countless guides and catalogs. The result, a ring representing our love embodied in a symbol, unique as my future wife, I thought at that time.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “What happened to everything regarding you?”

  “I know the answer by now . . . under lock and never to be seen by me.”

  Her irritation doesn’t bother me. I feel a faux sense of justice. “You were always brilliant, Bria.”

  She raises her hands in the air and sighs. “I just wish to know which symbol you’re talking about.”

  “But why would I grant you the satisfaction? You would not only have seen it, but you also would have worn it. Except, you wanted to experience life rather than building one with me.” I gnash my teeth, and the weight of my agony drags me down. There is no surprise she takes advantage of my limp state to pin me and straddle my lap as her blazing eyes burn a hole in my chest. Her hair shoots in all directions as she points a threatening finger in my face. With a palm on my stomach to trap me there, her brows snap together, and her mouth in a firm line, she looks fierce and stunning. What does she want to prove? And still, I indulge her by not budging.

  “Stop it. You don’t have to be so cruel. Don’t you see what you’re doing? You punish me by punishing you, and it’s not fair. I loved you to madness and back, Damien. You and only you. I don’t know why I did what I did, but . . .” she cups my face in her hands, “I was utterly and irrevocably in love with you. You can accuse me of anything else, but never, and I mean it, never say something like that. All I dreamed of since I had a mind of my own was to be with you, only you.”

  I stare right back at her and snarl, “How would I know, Bria? You may tell the truth, but on that day, I saw you, the woman who supposedly couldn’t live without me, in bed, with another man. And here you are blabbering as if I have forgotten the love you had for me.”

  “You are entitled to doubt everything. I just hope you find it in you to accept the truth of my words. Ever since I can remember, it was all about what I felt for you. It consumed me.”

  I raise my hands in the air as I choke on my misery. “But I did believe, not only in you but also in your feelings for me, and that what we had was real and strong enough to last a lifetime. I wanted to put a ring on your finger, goddammit, because I never questioned, not even for a second, whether your feelings were real or where your loyalty was. But reality spit in my face the moment I caught you with him. Your betrayal shattered me, and most of the pieces still lay scattered on the floor of that hotel room.”

  This is too much. I switch our position without even glancing at her. She slumps on her back, hands folded on her chest, eyes focused on the ceiling. I rest my head against the headboard contemplating whether I could bang on it until it clears.

  In the vacuum of my thoughts, I hear her next words. “I’m sure I would have loved the ring. Wearing it would have made me ecstatic.

  “I recall you had this aura of secrecy surrounding you, like I know something you don’t, and did I hate it! But you never lasted long when you kept something from me anyway.”

  Hmm, right. And still, it didn’t deter her snooping around as if the best detective had trained her. The sweeter the smile she gave me, she was thinking of a hundred ways of how to find out what I was keeping from her.

  She turns on her side as I suppress laughter while her eyes scan me. “Where did you hide the ring? I searched everywhere for my present. Like a mad person, I rummaged in every spot I could think of.”

  She can even admit it. I call it progress. A few years ago, she would have faked the most innocent look in history and turn it against me somehow.

  “I kept it with me at first, but after two days with my nerves strained to the maximum that you might feel the ring box in my jacket or it would drop out or someone else would spot it, I handed it to Dad to put it in the safe.”

  Realization dawns on her, and she asks, “How did Andrew react when he realized what it was?” Her voice cracks with the question, and I resume my story.

  “He congratulated me and patted me on my shoulder. And when he left the room, he said something I’ll never forget. ‘Son, I couldn’t be prouder of you, and I love you both with all my heart. I’m glad you found each other and rather quickly. Few have this privilege. Your responsibility toward your future wife and the family you’ll start together will make you an honorable man and me a proud father.’ He also stated part-time was over, and he would expect my full involvement in the company.”

  Silence follows as we stare at each other. Bria grips my hands and raises them to her heart. “You may believe me or not, but I never wanted to cause you or our families any harm. It was not how I wanted things to develop, either between the entire family or us. You lost only me. I lost everyone and everything.”

  I push her hands away and clench my jaw. I lift her and place her beside me as I shift to a sitting position, my head resting on the bed frame.

  “You lost no one, Bria. You left, and we all had to clean up after your mess while you moved on with your life as if nothing had happened. You’re right. You can’t blame anyone. Three long years, and what did you expect when you returned? A warm welcome? That we might have found the ability to forget everything and start all over? Everyone was just overstressed with you being home again. You were the precious glass that might crack if not handled carefully and bent on leaving again. I never complained. I kept my mouth shut and stitched the gaping wounds.”

  She supports her face in her palms, and then she cranes her head, determination filling he
r words. “You misunderstood me. I know what I left behind, but I couldn’t remain to face the consequences. Me disappearing was not an act of cowardice, but when I got myself under control, it was a year later. It was my decision, and maybe the most selfless thing I’ve ever done to stay behind and let you re-tie the family knots I had ruptured.”

  “You were egotistical. No excuse will ever be good enough. You leaving was never for our benefit, but for your own. I don’t know how we would have pulled through it, but I am sure we wouldn’t be in this situation right now with unfinished business between us and trying to tether up our wounds.”

  “I don’t regret it, Damien. It was the least I could have done, and it was for the best of all of us.”

  Her words reek of stubbornness. I massage my temples and huff, “Yes, it surely was for you. You quickly found a replacement family. I guess we weren’t good enough for you anymore.”

  She dangles a threatening finger in my eyes, her voice turning low. “Stop with the nonsense. I never wanted another family, but the thought I caused the split was bad enough. You’ll never know how it is to be a stranger in your family, in your own damn body. But I dealt with it as I did with everything else.”

  “Yes, don’t bother. We all received the vibe, Bria, loud and clear.”

  She grips my chin and dips my head as her eyes bore into mine. “I wanted to protect myself just a little bit longer. I came home with one goal . . . to build something all of you would be proud of, to leave something behind besides destruction.” Bria drops her hand, hides her face in her hair, and chews on her bottom lip.

  “We accomplished your goal, so why are you still here?” Frustration twinges in my question, and my heart hammers in my chest, waiting for her to answer.

  With hooded eyes, she peers at me, her voice just above a whisper, “My time is not up yet. There’s one more thing left on my list.”

  “What?” I grab her shoulders as she looks at me with round and glossy eyes.

  “For you to find love. Be happy again and start a family.”

  The whole night has been an emotional rollercoaster per se, but her admission accompanied by the sincerity shining in her eyes tug at my heartstrings. I stare at her in utter disbelief, shocked to my bones. “You must be joking, right? You can’t be serious. Fuck, Bria!”

  She places her hands over mine. I intertwine them and set them between us.

  “But I am. It’s the only thing I still wish to see happen.”

  “And then what?”

  She seals her eyes, a lone tear rolling down her cheek. “Why would you care anymore? When I receive a wedding invitation from you, my wish will come true. And perhaps I’ll be able to breathe again knowing you found your way back to life. Love has to be the answer to repair every single fractured tissue.”

  By now, I have no clue which of us is crazier. To be honest, it’s a close tie. Is there any doubt that instead of putting an end to this madness, I dive in a little more?

  “It should have been you, Bria. You’re in so deep in my cells; you assimilated them. Your face will pop up in my mind when I ask another woman to become my wife.”

  Those hazel eyes that have haunted me for years lock on mine, and my heart squishes under the gutter. They gleam with an untold plea. Are you sure this is what you really want from me, Bria? I question, bitterness gnawing at my limbs.

  “You’ll be in love, Damien. You could never ask someone to be your wife if love wasn’t a part of it. I will be the last person on your mind.”

  Yes, as if I’m that lucky. I ball my fists at my sides and say, “Maybe I have already found her.”

  “Then I’m happy for you.”

  Her head hangs, eyes squeeze shut, lips quivering, her nails jabbing into the cushion. If it’s true, her voice wouldn’t have cracked. She would die sooner than accept I forgot about her. It would tear her apart, limb from limb. Her whole façade would shatter. Her reaction elevates my spirits but damages me further.

  Oh, baby . . . what you do to me . . . you pump my ego and drain my heart. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

  “Do you know why this is my second treasured memory? Because that ring held our whole future. A platinum ring encrusted with diamonds representing our soon-to-be union and our love and hopes for the future. So much power in such a tiny thing.” I grip her hand in mine as I circle one particular finger as she eyes me through glossy lashes. “It would have looked stunning on your finger.”

  Her lids sink, and then she hides her face behind her cascading hair. I drop her hand as I run a palm over my face.

  “Why don’t you celebrate your birthday on the eighteenth of August anymore?”

  I thought the silence would go on for a while, but I guess she’s as desperate to chase the pain as me, not to forget that time is not on our side. I offer her a half-hearted answer. “Let’s just say I prefer to tussle with an old tree, and that keeps me occupied for the entire day.”

  “Damien . . .” She pauses. “It’s not a healthy tradition. You should quit it.”

  Anger courses through my blood. I can’t believe her nerve.

  “Who do you think you are to tell me what to do on my birthday or generally with my life? But I should ask you the same question. I mean, you owe me now, after I confessed to you something everyone else ponders about. Why don’t you celebrate yours anymore?”

  Her head snaps to me, fierce eyes boring into mine. “Why should I celebrate the day on which I destroyed my future, lost the love of my life, and disappointed everyone in the family? I could go on, but I’d rather stop because the other reasons are too dreadful.”

  An ice-cold bucket drowns me as she deadpans, “I’ll celebrate it again when I have a good reason, the best reason of my life . . . I can let go when no promise or deal or guilt still restrains me. Maybe I’m not worth much, but I deserve, like every other person on this earth, to find my peace.”

  I raise an eyebrow as she tilts her head to the side, her eyes downcast. “It sounds like I should worry when you celebrate it again.”

  She shakes her head from side to side as she drags her lower lip through her teeth, and it doesn’t reassure me at all.

  I cross my fingers behind my neck and groan. “This whole memory-lane trip we’ve taken has drained me, mentally, emotionally, and physically.”

  Bria’s eyes swim with unshed tears, and a torrent of emotions rip through me. I twirl one strand of her hair between my fingers, and she whispers, “You have no idea what this night means to me. For a while, you chased away the emptiness. It shouldn’t surprise me the power you have over me, and still, after years of living the way I have, it does.” I hate her riddles, her pleading eyes, but for what? She says, breaking me further, “Only you. Would you hold me, Damien?”

  I gulp. For a second, I have the impression she’s asking me to carry her until her end. I shake my head to aid with the pain throbbing behind my eyes. But for a world deprived of her, there would be no relief. I gather her to my chest and bury my head in her silky hair. I breathe in her flowery fragrance, nibble her slender neck, and shut my eyes. All the while, she laces our fingers together, sheltered in the crook of my neck, and sighs one more time—too many for my liking.

  DAMIEN

  A smile lifts the corners of my mouth as the thought of Bria being unaware of her fingers stroking my body the moment they find my skin. Even after all these years of separation, the conditioned subconscious movements of her hand surface. Silence cloaks us, but the inevitable rise of the dawn and the divide between us will tear us apart, once again. She peeks at me from under her lashes as her lips arch into a small smile. I wish to stay with her cradled in my arms until the sun begins to circle the earth. Nothing has ever compared, and nothing will ever come close to being with her.

  “And so we come to the number one of my top ten: my eighteenth birthday, a hot August day when you planned the picnic. We spent the entire morning and early afternoon under the oak’s branches while swans glided by on the lake.


  “I woke up to your lips pecking mine and singing happy birthday. I grinned from ear to ear like the love-struck fool I was. Then you flashed me your tits, swaying them in my face, mischief dancing in your eyes, and my jaw dropped. You sprung from the bed as I rushed after you. But you squealed and shut the shower door in my face. Your laughter mingled with my groans echoed around us. The serious case of blue balls you caused was not funny.”

  I forget my name as she giggles.

  “We were both on edge, Damien, our patience fading. I knew if you got to me in the shower, that was it. And it was not how I envisioned our first time.”

  The visual has me both groaning and rock-hard. She averts her gaze the second I catch her eyes on me. I suppress a smirk. “You wore this long, white floral summer dress, your hair hung in loose curls over your breasts, with the gold necklace with your name on it peeking from between them, the one I gave you on your fifteenth birthday. You took my breath away.”

  Her fingers slide down my chest as she nuzzles her head on my shoulder blade.

  “And you wore dark-blue summer shorts with a white shirt hanging down casually, giving you a sophisticated, sexy look. Your disconnected, undercut, side-swept hair, freshly rinsed, and still wet, fell to one side.”

  “Then you wrote a note for the family telling them we’d be back in a few hours. We rushed into the kitchen, grabbed the filled picnic basket, and snuck outside where we found a taxi waiting for us.”

  “The sun beat down on us, and I went barefoot on the grass.”

  The dreaming gaze reflecting in her eyes does funny things to my heart. I swallow an imaginary lump in my throat.

  I kiss the top of her head, and she snuggles further into my side. Every inch of my right side is hyperaware of her soft skin glued to mine. This, here with her, feels so right. The dichotomy between the wish to hold on to her and the reality of leaving her punches me in the gut.