Designing Emma (Volume 2)
Page 1
Designing Emma
Volume 2
Making and Breaking Promises
Clarissa Carlyle
Designing Emma (Volume 2)
Clarissa Carlyle
Published by Clarissa Carlyle, 2015.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DESIGNING EMMA (VOLUME 2)
First edition. September 28, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Clarissa Carlyle.
ISBN: 978-1519911704
Written by Clarissa Carlyle.
Also by Clarissa Carlyle
Designing Emma
Designing Emma (Volume 1)
Designing Emma (Volume 2)
Designing Emma (Volume 3)
Designing Emma (Volume 4)
Designing Emma (Volume 5)
Designing Emma (Volume 6)
Designing Emma Boxed Set Bundle (Includes all 6 Volumes in the Designing Emma Series)
Designing Emma Boxed Set (Includes all 6 Volumes in the Designing Emma Series)
Entertainment with Jem
Jemma 1
Jemma 2
Jemma 3
Jemma 4
Jemma 5
Jemma Boxed Set (Includes all 5 books in the Entertainment with Jem New Adult Romance Series)
Jemma Boxed Set Bundle
Lessons in Love
Lessons in Love
Letters of Love
Living with Love
Lessons in Love Boxed Set
Lessons in Love Boxed Set Bundle
Managed
Managed 1: A Rock Star Romance
Managed 2: A Rock Star Romance
Managed 3: A Rock Star Romance
Managed 4: A Rock Star Romance
Managed: A Rock Star Romance, Boxed Set (Includes All 4 Books in the Managed Series)
The Playgirls
The Playgirls 1: Catch and Release
The Playgirls 2: Growing Up
The Playgirls 3: The Big Leagues
The Playgirls Boxed Set
The Playgirls Boxed Set Bundle
Standalone
Just Like Heaven
Hollywood Heartthrob
Fresh Beginnings: Michael and Delaney
The Day the Siren Stopped
Table of Contents
Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Clarissa Carlyle
Making and Breaking Promises
Author Info
Clarissa Carlyle’s Books
Also By Clarissa Carlyle
Making and Breaking Promises
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Emma said, her eyes wide with bewilderment.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” her father replied, his eyes darting over his daughter.
“A lot to take in?” Anger reddened Emma’s cheeks. She couldn’t believe what her father was saying. “It’s more than a lot to take in, Dad! It’s utterly preposterous.” Unable to remain in the same proximity as her father, Emma rose to her feet and paced around the vast room, her footsteps echoing off the empty walls.
“Sweetheart, if you just let me explain,” her father pleaded.
Emma ceased pacing and looked at him. Helpless and defeated, his eyes were black, and he seemed unable to fully lift his head, from pain or shame, she didn’t know. A million years ago, it seemed that their living room had once been the epicenter of their happy family home.
A baby grand piano her mother used to play sat in the corner, and Emma would dance to the happy melodies. Blooms of fresh flowers had filled the house. Lilies had been her mother’s favorite, and the house always smelled of them.
Those scents were gone, replaced with damp and decay. Beneath that was despair.
“Explain, then,” Emma demanded. She wished for the willpower to just walk away, to tell her father that enough was enough. But the memories of happier times filled her mind, binding her to the house, binding her to her father.
“I got in with some bad, bad people,” he began. Emma raised an eyebrow and threw him a judgmental look. “Don’t look at me like that,” her father begged. “Your mother always looked at me like that whenever I messed up.”
The raw hurt in his voice caught Emma off guard.
“I’m in a lot of debt,” he continued. “And we were about to lose the house. The money I took out of the house with those mortgages... I... I haven’t been able to make a payment in a long time, now the bank is foreclosing. We were about to be homeless.”
Emma opened her mouth to speak, but her father interrupted her.
“I know, I should have told you, but I didn’t want to worry you. I thought that if I could just get hold of some more money, I could get on top of what I owe. And then one night I’m in a bar, and this smartly dressed guy approached me, saying he knew my troubles and could help.”
“So you accepted money from a guy in a bar?” Emma demanded, shaking her head in disapproval. “And that didn’t seem at all fishy?” she added, her tone snarky.
Her father ignored the barbed comment and carried on, explaining his predicament.
“He seemed legit,” he said. “He had offices in town. He invited me in for a meeting and said he could sort out my financial issues.”
Emma imagined the scenario. Her father, a vulnerable, broken ex-millionaire, and these men in suits circling him like vultures. They found him in a bar when he was doubtless inebriated and unable to think logically. She was already angry with them before they’d even laid a finger on him.
“So I accepted the money, paid the bank to stop the foreclosure, and thought nothing more of it. A month later they came to collect.”
“So that would be today?”
Her father didn’t meet her gaze.
“Not today, they’ve been here before?” Emma felt panic rise within her at the thought of these dangerous men frequently visiting her home. Her chest tightened, restricting her breathing.
“Once before,” her father explained, his voice low and sorrowful. “They were polite if pushy, saying I owed them what was due, with interest.”
“After a month?”
Sebastian nodded. “I didn’t think too much of it. They were pushy, sure, but most loan sharks are. Figured I could hold them off for a while until I had access to some more cash or got lucky at the tables.”
“And then they returned?”
“And then they returned.” Her father sighed.
“What happened?”
Her father gestured at his face, and Emma winced. She hated thinking of someone mercilessly beating her father. The thought both sickened and infuriated her.
“They made threats, threw me around a bit, said I’d run out of time to repay them, and next time I’d pay with my life.”
“Oh, God.” Emma trembled.
“And then they offered me a deal.”
“The marriage thing?” It made no sense to Emma. She sat back down beside her father, her initial outrage thawing away.
“Out of the blue, the main instigator, the guy I met in the bar, he tells me that they’ll spare my life if I can do something for them. I was desperate and terrified of how far they’d go. I said I’d do anything, give them whatever they wanted.”
Emma’s mouth dried. The thing that they’d wanted was her. But she wasn’t a commodity to be exchanged; she was a person. She lived in the modern world, a world where women had equal rights. How could they possibly expect her to marry someone as part of a shady deal?
“They said they’d forgive my debt if you married their boss’s son, Nick.”
“That
is...” Emma struggled to find the words. “Utterly unbelievable. I’m not some prized pig you can take to auction.”
Her father looked pained. He reached out and took Emma’s hand in his. He was shaking.
“I’m so sorry, darling. I agreed, and I was too terrified to do anything else. They said they’d kill me if I didn’t agree.”
Emma wanted to be mad at her father. She wanted to hate him for not respecting her rights, but she saw the fear in his eyes and couldn’t hold his decision against him. He was still her father, after all, and she’d already seen him through countless bad times. Emma couldn’t turn her back on him now.
“I just don’t understand why they want me to marry their son.” It still made no sense to her. They had no money; it wasn’t as if he’d be inheriting millions if he married her. They knew they had no money; it was the very reason they’d been able to manipulate her father.
“They want access to the name,” her father said.
Their name. It was the only thing they had left; their one connection to the elite that held its integrity despite all that had happened. It was their name that Emma hoped to trade upon with her clothing line.
“Why would they want our name?” Emma wondered aloud.
“They want to infiltrate the elite,” her father explained. “Being a Delacourt would make that extremely easy for them.”
The thought sent shivers down Emma’s spine. She was supposed to marry the boss’s son, Nick, so that Nick could pretend to be a Delacourt and manipulate men with more money than sense in to making the same sort of mistakes her father had. It was all such a con.
“But why marry me? He could just pretend to be a Delacourt surely?”
“It has to be legal; they don’t like to leave a trail that could result in them going to prison.”
“So he wants to marry me so I can be an accessory to all their corruption?” Renewed anger coursed through Emma’s veins.
“I won’t do it, Dad. It’s absurd. We’ll just go to the police.”
She stood, her body rigid with purpose, and prepared herself to march straight to her local sheriff’s office and explain the whole sordid situation.
“Ems, we can’t.” Her father looked up at her sheepishly. “These are dangerous men, capable of terrible things. If we go to the authorities, they’ll kill us both.”
“You make it sound like they’re the mob or something.” Emma scoffed, confident that the law would protect her no matter what.
“They are,” her father whispered. “I’m so sorry, Ems. I didn’t mean to get caught up with such bad people.”
She watched her father’s shoulders shake, as tears broke free from his battered eyes. She sat back down beside him and placed a comforting arm around him.
“Do you remember that Christmas Eve when it snowed, I was about six or seven?” Emma asked, trying to brighten the mood by recalling happier times.
“Yeah.” Her father wiped at his eyes.
“You and Mom came to wake me up at something like two in the morning to show me the snow.”
“And you thought we were waking you to tell you Father Christmas had arrived, and you wet yourself with excitement.” Laughter caught in Sebastian’s throat as he remembered the night.
“It wasn’t my finest moment.” Emma giggled. “But I remember once Mom had cleaned me up, we came and stood by those windows.”
She pointed to the full-length windows across from them, now dirtied and cracked, but once they had been pristine, offering a beautiful vista of the world outside.
“In the darkness the falling snow looked so magical, and as we stood there, Mom was playing ‘Let it Snow’ on the piano. We didn’t go back to bed that night; instead we started Christmas early.”
“I remember.” Sebastian was smiling. “It was a wonderful Christmas.”
Emma looked out towards the window, wishing she could have crystalized the feelings she’d felt that morning and called upon them during more troubling times. So much had changed since then. Her mother was gone; the house had fallen into disrepair. But she and her father remained, and that was precious. She couldn’t let that go.
“Would they really kill you if I don’t marry this guy?” she asked, not wanting to break the spell the memory had cast over them, but needing to know the severity of her situation.
“Undoubtedly,” her father replied. His eyes now only glistened, and the tears had stopped falling.
“I don’t want to lose you.” Emma’s lip quivered. She thought of the little girl she had once been, standing in the window watching the falling snow with her father standing beside her. He’d scooped her up in his arms so that she could search for Father Christmas. Back then, her father always smelled of cigars and cut grass. It was a comforting scent.
She owed the little girl she had once been the opportunity to keep her family together. She couldn’t let some vindictive mob boss kill her father. She didn’t want to one day stand at that window alone and accept that her family was truly gone.
“If I agree to do it, then you have to make me a promise,” Emma said decisively.
“Anything,” her father said, “I’ll do anything.”
“We have to stop living like this.” Emma gestured to the room around them. “We’ve lived in misery since Mom died, and I can’t take it anymore. It’s like we were so wrapped up in losing her that we forgot that we still had each other. I’ll marry the guy, Dad. I’ll marry him to save you, but on the condition that you come back to me. I need you to be the dad you once were.”
Sebastian was crying again, tears flowing down his bloodstained cheeks.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He gasped. “I promise you, from now on things will be different. I swear.”
Emma hoped he meant it. If she was willing to partake in a faux marriage, the least her father could do was give up the drink and gambling. Even if they lost their home, she didn’t want them to lose themselves.
She tried not to focus on the implications of her decision. Daniel flashed in her mind, and so did Damion. She knew neither would welcome the news. If anything, they’d be devastated by it. Especially Daniel. Their romance was new, how would it survive when faced with a fake marriage? Surely, he’d understand. After all, she risked losing her father if she didn’t comply. Daniel would get that, wouldn’t he?
“Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up,” she suggested to her father, hating seeing the harsh wounds upon his face.
“Things will get better for us, Ems,” he said hopefully as he struggled up to his feet. Emma hoped he was right; after all, things couldn’t get much worse.
EMMA PAINTED ON HER brightest smile with her red lipstick, but feared that her sadness still showed. She was due to meet Daniel and Damion for dinner. They were meant to be celebrating their success with the investors that morning, but all she could think about was the life-changing promise she’d made to her father. If she didn’t marry this Nick guy, her father would be killed. What sort of pressure was that to put on a young woman?
With trembling hands, Emma applied her mascara, framing her eyes. If she didn’t feel the part, at least she could try her best to look it.
Daniel had booked a reservation for them at one of the finest restaurants in town. Emma usually avoided such elaborate places, but for the guys she needed to make an exception. They were keen to celebrate and accustomed to fine dining. Unlike Emma, they never left that world of opulence, as it had remained a part of their identity.
Sighing, Emma regarded herself in the small bathroom mirror, which like everything else in her house was cracked. She looked immaculate, but inside she felt like she risked crumbling to the ground just like the neglected walls around her.
“EMS, HEY.” DAMION IMMEDIATELY rose to his feet when he saw her being led to their table, a massive smile breaking out across his handsome features. He took over the maître d’s services and pulled her chair out for her.
“We were beginning to worry that you wouldn’t show,” Daniel
said. Emma was twenty minutes late.
“It’s a lady’s prerogative to take her time,” Emma replied as she slid into her seat.
Damion and Daniel exchanged a quick, concerned glance before they turned their attention to the menu.
“What do you fancy?” Daniel asked. “Since this is a night of celebration, nothing is off-limits. Have lobster if you want it.”
Emma scanned the menu in her hands, taking in the elaborate script printed on the delicate parchment. Even the menu was fancy. It had been so long since she’d eaten somewhere like this, she’d forgotten what food they usually had on special. Lobster. Foie gras. Dishes that she couldn’t remember how they tasted. They felt foreign to her, as though she was within a different country not just a different pay bracket.
She had no appetite. Her stomach twisted and turned as she recalled the conversation with her father, and remembered the state of his face. He’d assured her that the thugs wouldn’t return. She’d made him promise over and over that she wouldn’t come home from dinner to find him face down on the floor. The time for her to make good on her promise to wed Nick was ticking away.
“You should see your friends,” her father had urged her. “You deserve to enjoy yourself. You worked hard today.”
Her father rarely acknowledged what she was doing in terms of her fashion line, so she realized he was truly making an effort to make amends with her. He’d messed up; they both knew that. Things had escalated to a terrifying point for them. It sickened Emma to imagine what could happen to her father if she didn’t marry this stranger, this Nick.
“Ems, you okay?” Daniel shot her a concerned glance.
Emma readjusted herself in her seat and shot him her most confident smile. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”
“You look pale,” Damion noted from across the table.
“I’m fine,” Emma repeated a little more tensely.
“Then let’s order,” Daniel said.