“Is something wrong?” I straightened, surprised by the sudden burst of energy.
“No. Yes. No. But there are some things that could use your attention.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking in code?”
“Well, I’m not alone,” she said. “And there are important things going on here that may or may not be of interest to you.”
My patience evaporated. “Muriel, spit it out.”
“Just get the hell in here,” she said. “Now.” And hung up.
I stared at the phone in my hand, unsure whether to laugh or be alarmed. Muriel had a dramatic flair rivaled only by Xavier. More than likely she’d found a new love interest and wanted me to play matchmaker, or had had another falling out with the copier girl. After another minute, my mind was made up. I dialed the extension to Chandler’s room.
“Chandler, it’s Mrs. Seaforth. Could you get the car? I’m going to work.”
I heard the shock in his voice. “Um, okay. Sure thing.” He’d probably been bored out of his mind for the past few weeks since I’d never gone anywhere or had even bothered to get out of bed. “I’m on it.”
Forty-five minutes later, dressed in my favorite figure-hugging black pantsuit, I climbed into the car and headed to the office. When I walked off the elevator, murmurs of interest rippled through the cubicles. I’d taken a leave of absence to recover from the miscarriage and should have returned to work a while ago. Until today, I hadn’t been able to face anyone. The threat of tears still lurked below my mask of indifference. At the reception desk, I hesitated. Perhaps I’d been too hasty in my return. Then I remembered who I was. Mrs. Samuel Seaforth. Dakota Seaforth. I belonged here. This was my passion. I sucked in a deep breath and breezed past Xavier and down the corridor toward Sam’s office.
First things first. I needed to clear the air with Sam.
“Dakota? Good morning.” Shocked flashed across Xavier’s face, but he recovered quickly. He jumped out of his chair and trotted to catch up with me. “Sam’s in a meeting right now. He said not to disturb him. Let me give him a buzz.”
I frowned down at him. As Sam’s wife, I’d never needed to be announced. A knot of unease tightened in the pit of my stomach. “Why? Who’s in there?”
“Can I just say you look fantastic in that suit?” Xavier’s bold eyes raked over the crisp white collar of my blouse and the bold yellow scarf knotted beneath the lapels.
“I’ve lost a few pounds,” I said. Over his shoulder, the frosted glass double doors of Sam’s office loomed. “What’s the meeting about?”
“A new project. I’m sure he’ll fill you in.” Xavier waved a hand through the air then took my elbow, turning me toward my office. “It’s great to have you back. Layla’s off today, but I’ll fill in for her. Can I get you anything? Some coffee? I’m sure you need a bit to get settled, and then we’ll talk. Okay?” A broad smile burst across his features. “Man, have I missed you! We need to catch up. I heard a rumor that Grady, the sanitation guy, had an affair with Shania, the copier girl. And Missy in accounting left her husband for Lisa from the law firm on the first floor. No one saw that coming.”
When I looked up, we were standing outside my office. He gave me a quick hug and disappeared. I’d forgotten how good he was at handling people. After a second, I opened the door and took a seat behind my desk. Everything smelled new, foreign. I trailed a hand across the heavy cherry wood of the desk then powered up my computer.
I was proud of the work Sam had done to recover from a financial catastrophe, the way he’d gathered his resources, regrouped, and returned stronger than ever. But that was how Sam was—strong, relentless, unstoppable. I paused to bite my lower lip, overcome with shame at the way I’d treated him. Of course he went about his day as if the miscarriage had never happened, because that was what Sam did—he thrived in the face of adversity. It was one of the reasons I loved him so much. And I did love him, more than anything. I just didn’t know how to get beyond the yawning chasm between us.
Before I could overthink the impulse, I rushed out of my office, just in time to see Sam standing at the elevators with a svelte, thirty-something bombshell. The overhead lights reflected off her chestnut hair. A wide smile bowed red lips as she chatted with my husband. I couldn’t fault her enthusiasm. As always, Sam looked impeccable in a navy Hugo Boss suit. The tailored cut flattered his broad shoulders and narrow hips. The summer sun had bleached highlights into his blond hair, the scruff on his square jaw darker by several shades. A few inches of smooth, tanned skin showed through the open throat of his white dress shirt.
The woman leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest to smooth his lapels. Oh, hell no. I charged forward. Sam took a step away from the woman, and her hand dropped to her side. His gaze met mine. I waited for the familiar flicker of heat or anger or something—anything—to indicate his mood. But instead I found nothing.
“Dakota.” The cool green gaze leveled on mine. “This is Shelby Whitman. Shelby, this is my wife, Dakota.”
Shelby turned her megawatt smile in my direction. Startling lavender eyes swept over my figure from head to toe. She extended a hand. “Mrs. Seaforth, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Thank you.” I returned her handshake, feeling the weight of Sam’s gaze on me. “Likewise, Mrs. Whitman.” From the corner of my eye, I spied Muriel, resplendent in a purple-and-white flowered dress, peeking around her cubicle wall.
“It’s Miss, and please, call me Shelby.” A beat passed between us as she waited for me to return the gesture.
I said nothing. She could call me Mrs. Seaforth until hell froze over. It would serve as a reminder to her that Sam had a wife. Normally, women like her didn’t bother me, but my confidence had suffered an irreparable blow over the past month.
“Sam said you were recovering from an illness. I hope you’re feeling better?” The genuine warmth and concern in her tone did little to ease my jealousy. Was she the reason he hurried into work every day? Had he found someone to replace me?
“Yes, I am. Much better, thanks.” Something about the way she spoke made me wonder how much Sam had told her.
The elevator dinged. Sam held the doors open. “Thank you again, Shelby. I’ll be in touch.” Was it my imagination, or was he hurrying her along?
She passed by on a subtle cloud of floral perfume. The elevator doors closed between us. Sam stared down at me, jaw clenched, a storm brewing in his eyes. I pressed my sweating palms to my thighs and stared back at him, trying to gather the words I needed to say.
“Well, this is a surprise,” he said.
“Yes, I decided to come in. Catch up on emails and stuff.” My blood pressure began to climb. Curious eyes stared over the tops of the cubicle walls. I fought to hold my tone at an even level.
“You could’ve done that from home.” Disapproval sharpened his voice. Oh, God. Was he still angry? He was. I could tell by the tension in his brows, the tilt of his head, the turbulence in his glare.
“Can I talk to you for a minute? In private?”
“I’ve got a conference call in ten.” The wall of his broad chest loomed in front of me. He drew in a deep breath then exhaled. “Of course.” He didn’t touch me as we walked down the hall to his office. Before I’d lost the baby, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Now it was like an invisible barrier had been erected between us. He closed the door and took a seat behind his desk. The cool, masculine tones of the room suited him—dark wood, muted shades of blue on the walls, and black leather furniture. “Talk.”
I drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it.” Once I began, the words tumbled out in a rush. “I know you’re hurting, too. And I was wrong to lash out at you the way I did. I’m just so angry and messed up.” My lower lip quivered. I bit down on it, feeling like I might fracture into a million tiny pieces at any second. “My emotions are all over the place. I can’t seem to get a handle on them.”
Sam stared
at me, palms resting on his thighs, face blank. I blinked away the stinging in my eyes. “Get over here,” he said.
“What?” I pressed my palms together to ease their quaking.
“Now, Dakota.” He shoved back from his desk. When I didn’t move fast enough, one of his long arms snaked out and snatched my hand. With a tug, he pulled me into his lap.
Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, enveloping me in warmth and familiarity. My nose found the hollow of his throat. His clean, woodsy scent filled my senses. I let out a breath—one I hadn’t known I was holding.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Hey.” His deep baritone rumbled through my body. It was one word, textured and complex, layered with a multitude of regret. His words healed my wounds. “You don’t apologize. Not to me. Not for this.”
A painful lump formed in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, unable to speak. Instead, I clung to his wide shoulders. He pulled me closer, burying his nose in my hair, squeezing me until my ribs ached, like he hadn’t seen me in weeks instead of hours. Tears began to pour down my cheeks.
Sam reached for the intercom. “Mrs. Caldwell, cancel my meetings for today.”
“All of them?” Her startled question echoed out of the speaker.
“Yes. And have Rockwell bring the car. My wife and I are going home for the day.” Sam hung up and shifted my weight on his legs. His big hands soothed up and down my back. “It’s okay, baby. Let it out.”
The deep, soothing rumble of his voice brought surprising comfort. I cried until my eyes ran dry. When my sobs finally ended, he tightened his embrace and rocked me. “I needed you, Sam,” I managed to say. “I needed you, and you weren’t there.”
“I know. I fucked up.” He pulled back and put a finger beneath my chin, tilting my gaze up to meet his. His eyes searched mine. “I thought I was doing the right thing, building up the business for our family, but my place is here with you. I’ll hire someone to help out. Let the people come to me if they need me.” The pad of his thumb swept over my bottom lip. “Starting today, we’re never spending a night apart. If I need to travel, you can come with me. I promise you.”
“What about Takashima? And your other businesses?” His work had been an integral part of his adult life, and I didn’t want to stand in the way of his dreams. “You have goals, and I can’t be the reason you don’t achieve them.”
“That will never happen.” The intensity of his gaze heated my blood. “I gave up everything for you once before. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Loving you isn’t a sacrifice, Kota. It’s a privilege.”
Chapter 29
DAKOTA
WE TRIED to find our way back to each other, but it wasn’t easy. Every time he touched me, I shied away. After my initial breakdown in his office, I shut off my emotions. It was too painful to feel anything, and in doing so, I blocked my feelings for him as well. By some kind of instinct, he recognized my hesitation and didn’t press for more than I was able to give. Instead, he filled me in on the details of Maxwell’s indictment and his conversations with Vanessa. That night, he slept in the guest room again, and in the morning, we headed to Seaforth Manor to meet with Maxwell.
The mere act of driving down the long, winding lane to Seaforth Manor sent a shiver up my back—and not the good kind. Once Sam and I had divorced, I’d run from my hometown like an escaped convict on the lam. This was my first return visit since then. I tried never to look back, but it was nearly impossible.
The brick façade of the house peeked through the branches of aged elms and oaks. Sometimes things looked smaller as I got older, but not this house. It loomed tall and grand in the center of emerald lawns and landscaped gardens. Memories of Sam and my mother flitted through my head, of happier days, of smiles and laughter. The further we progressed up the drive, the darker those snippets became. All the ugliness came rushing back—Maxwell’s constant belittlement, the sensation that I’d never been good enough for Sam or the Seaforth name. I shifted in the leather seat of the Porsche, trying to physically escape the mental discomfort.
Sam eased the car around the circle drive and parked in front of the entrance. I’d been crazy in love with him in those days. Crazy enough to get married at eighteen, to throw caution to the wind and dare to dream of happily ever after. That headstrong, impulsive girl seemed like a stranger to me in the wake of our current estrangement and the loss of our baby.
Sam got out of the car and moved around the front of the Porsche with ground-eating strides. He opened my door. I took his hand and stood, happy to unfold my limbs after a long car ride. The scent of jasmine and roses hung heavy on the summer air. From the fountains in the garden came the sounds of splashing water. He squeezed my hand, his grip warm and steady. It was the first time he’d touched me in days, not that I blamed him. I’d been a cold and hateful bitch, and I hated myself even more because of it.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” I nodded, lying to the both of us, as he shut the car door behind me.
Our relationship had never been easy. If I’d known at eighteen how much pain I’d endure to be with him, would I have made the same choices? Would he? His next remark did nothing to assuage my insecurities.
“God, this place…” Sam muttered under his breath but didn’t finish the sentence.
A butler—or footman or whatever he was—came forward to get our luggage. The gesture jerked my thoughts from the past and into the reality of the present. I’d never been through the front doors before. As the cook’s daughter, I’d been relegated to using the service entrances at the rear of the house. Now, here I was, a lifetime later, entering through the front doors of the house as Mrs. Dakota Seaforth, Sam’s wife.
“Your mother would have a cow,” I whispered to no one in particular.
He chuckled. “Remember how I used to sneak you up to my bedroom through the fire escape.”
“How could I forget?” The hot summer afternoons spent kissing in the shadows of the pool house, furtive touches in the kitchen when no one was looking, making out in secrecy on his bedroom until I ached to have him inside me. We’d been so innocent, so optimistic. Nothing could dampen our love for each other in those days. “Have you been back here—since your mom died?”
“No. There was no reason after she was gone.” The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed. Although his mother had hated me, she’d loved him, and he’d loved her. I had to think, given enough time and opportunity, she’d have come to understand how much he meant to me and changed her mind about us.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” I said, feeling the swift sting of empathetic tears. I placed a hand on his cheek. The stubble of his five o’clock shadow tickled my palm.
He took my hand and kissed it. “You’re here now, baby, and that’s all that matters.” His gestures remained sweet, but his gaze was guarded. The external consequences of my hurt and anger showed in his expression. I’d been shutting him out, ignoring his pain, selfishly unaware of anyone but myself.
A maid met us in the foyer and led us into the parlor. The heels of our shoes tapped a cadence on the polished marble floors. Everything was perfect, from the massive chandeliers to the gold scrollwork trim and murals painted on the ceilings. Rayna met us in the drawing room. Her cream linen blouse matched the color of the furniture exactly. She smiled at the sight of us.
“Welcome. I’m so happy to see you both.” Her hands gripped my shoulders as she air-kissed both my cheeks. “You’re the last to arrive. Vanessa is already here. She’s resting upstairs before dinner. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up. I’ve put you in the Blue Room on the second floor. Penelope will show you the way.”
“I know where it is,” Sam said. He stared down at his stepmother.
“Oh, of course you do. What am I thinking?” Rayna rolled her eyes, attempting charisma and failing miserably. “I’ll leave you to it then. Dinner is at seven sharp. Oh, and we dress for our meals,” she added as we walked away.
“Was that remark intended for me?” I asked Sam as we ascended the sweeping staircase. “Like I’m going to dinner naked?”
“Behave.” Sam’s shoulder brushed mine, and I flinched at the unintended contact. “If I had my way, you’d be naked for every meal.”
The playful remark put me off balance. Our conversations since the beach house had been limited to discussions of work and non-inflammatory topics like the weather. I cast a sideways glance at him. Daylight streamed through the leaded glass windows on the first landing and highlighted the blond streaks in his hair.
Our bedroom was the size of my tiny Laurel Falls apartment. In the adjoining bathroom, a white slipper tub faced a window looking down on the garden. I’d never been above the ground floor except for Sam’s room. The bed loomed in the center, a king-sized monstrosity draped in pale blue velvet. I eyed it, intimidated by its size and what it represented.
“I didn’t want to ask for separate rooms,” he said, reading my thoughts. “I can sleep on the chaise.”
“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” It was his turn to flinch when I placed a hand on his forearm.
“Is it? Ridiculous?” A muscle flexed in his jaw. I removed my hand from his arm.
Instead of answering, I walked to the French doors of the balcony and stared down at the colorful beds of dahlias and roses below. Everything was the same yet different, like I’d walked into an alternate universe. I wrapped my arms around my waist and shivered in the cool air conditioning.
“I think I’ll take a bath,” I said after a long and unpleasant silence.
“I’m going for a walk,” Sam replied. I didn’t move until the door clicked shut behind me.
Two hours later, I walked into the corridor and stopped at the top of the stairs. Dozens—no, hundreds—of candles lit the dark staircase. Their dancing flames cast an eerie glow on the walls, causing the maidens in the murals to dance and weave as I passed by. The myriad candles lit the path to the dining room, their melting wax attended by a young girl of about eighteen. One of the candles extinguished as I approached the double doors. The girl quickly bent to relight the flame, her young features taut with panic.
Pretty Broken Promises: An Unconventional Love Story Page 14
