Broken Chains (Broken Beauty Novellas Book 3)

by Lizzy Ford

The idea he really did almost die, and I stood him up, tears me apart. Of everything I thought I’d feel, anger is at the top of my list. For once, however, it’s not self-loathing.

  I’m furious with Madison. He destroyed my life once, and he could have destroyed my life again, not by hurting me, but by preventing me for being there for one of the few friends I have.

  “I’ll find a nurse,” Leo says and leaves quickly.

  “I’m fine, Gi. I just need to go home and rest,” Dom says with a weak smile. He doesn’t look fine at all.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I tell him in a manner that makes me think I’ve spent too much time around Chris. I’m starting to sound like him. “If you argue with me, I’ll have Fabio put you down.” I don’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it does.

  No one in the room is as surprised as I am – except maybe Fabio.

  “I’d do what she says,” Tony says.

  “I agree,” Gianna says with a laugh.

  “Your dad owns this place, doesn’t he?” Tony jokes.

  “No, but I can buy it and shut it down if they don’t hurry,” I replied, annoyed.

  They’re all looking at me like they’re trying to decide if I’m joking.

  Dom sits heavily. He alone appears entertained. His eyes twinkle.

  I’m so tired and irritated, I don’t appreciate or care about the warmth of his look.

  A nurse shows up, and we all file out, with the exception of Gianna, who stays with her brother.

  The rest of Dom’s family talks and jokes on the other side of the hallway while I stand alone with Fabio, feeling as out of place here as I do everywhere. I text Ari as I wait. The nurse leaves after several minutes, and Gianna follows her out.

  “I can’t stay long,” I tell her. It’s not true, but I’m feeling really weird crashing the family affair.

  “Go on in,” Gianna replies.

  I hesitate but do so. Dom is back on the bed, seated on top of the covers, his upper body bare, except for the bandages crisscrossing it. He’s in jeans and appears ready to leap out of bed and leave, if the nurse doesn’t watch him carefully.

  I cross to stand by his bed, feeling sick to my stomach at the idea that one of the only good people I know could have died.

  Pale and exhausted, he’s nonetheless scrutinizing my bruises. I tug up the turtleneck to be sure I’m hiding the most telling sign this wasn’t another routine fight.

  I’ve been preparing an apology for standing him up since I arrived last night. I take a deep breath, ready to verbalize it, when he speaks first.

  “What happened?” he asks. He’s careful around me – always – as if suspecting I’m constantly a second away from running or crying. Dom slides a finger between my turtleneck and skin and pushes the fabric down.

  Grimacing, I lean away. Even the light brush of his knuckle against my skin stings. Everything hurts.

  I don’t meet his gaze. “Another fight.”

  “I know what ligature marks are.” He lowers his hand.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I tell him, uncertain I can relive my incident and deal with Dom being injured. “I want to be there for you for once. Okay?”

  Dom is quiet.

  “Okay?” I repeat.

  “Thank you,” he says softly.

  I look at him finally. The skin around his dark eyes is tight, and the muscles of his clenched jaw tick the same way Chris’ do when he’s trying hard not to lose his temper. Dom is angry, but he’s also concerned.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you for coffee yesterday,” I continue, uncertain how to handle his silence. I’ve seen him upset before but not like this, where he’s tense and can’t even smile. “I wouldn’t stand you up.”

  Dom takes a deep breath. “I didn’t think you did,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

  “You’re not responsible for my safety,” I reply. “I have a team of bodyguards for that.”

  He forces a smile.

  “You’re upset with me?” I ask. Ari would know how to read his silence, but I don’t.

  “I became a cop because I want to help people. I feel like I failed you,” he admits quietly.

  “You’ve the only person in my life who’s never failed me,” I reply with more emotion than I mean to. “You and Ari. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for you yesterday,” I add. My face feels warm, and I clear my throat. “I hope you feel better. I should probably go.”

  “Thank you for coming, Mia,” he says, the genuine warmth back in his voice. “Really. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, hero,” I whisper.

  Dom smiles.

  Pride flickers within me. I’m doing something good for someone I care about. I didn’t know it would make this big of a difference in how I feel, but it does. “If they don’t treat you well, tell me. I will buy them and shut them down.”

  Dom smiles. “I’ll let you know.”

  Trailed by Fabio, I leave and purposely turn left down the corridor rather than right. I’m not in the mindset to deal with Dom’s family. I feel like an intruder into their lives as it is.

  Fabio speaks quietly to the other members on his detail via the microphone pinned to his collar.

  By the time we leave out the rear entrance reserved for hospital staff, my convoy of two black SUVs is waiting. I sigh. The armored car was bad enough. There’s no hiding two armored SUVs convoying everywhere I go.

  “I need to go change clothes before going to the clinic,” I tell Fabio as I get into the vehicle. I don’t care if I’m late. I’d rather be comfortable after my long day and night.

  He nods once. He and Chris must have some sort of mind-meld. He doesn’t call to ask permission, but I doubt he’ll do anything without Chris’s approval.

  I feel as broken as my body. I swore my fear of Madison and Robert wouldn’t take Dom away from me, yet it almost did.

  Or maybe, this is my fault, too.

  I shouldn’t have worn that dress. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I shouldn’t have thought Robert and Madison would leave me alone. I shouldn’t have chosen Tanya over Daddy. I shouldn’t have exposed Dom to the broken person I am. I can’t drag someone as good as he is into the broken world I live in.

  The last thought kills me.

  I fiddle with my cell. I can’t do it today, not with him in the hospital. But this upcoming week, I’m going to let him go.

  The idea hurts more than I think it should, but it’s for the best. He deserves better. With me gone from his life, he’ll have a chance to find better, and he won’t be tangled in the web I desperately want to be free of.

  12

  I spend the night in my safe room. It’s like my closet – with a bathroom and kitchen.

  I’m late again for school. Benji takes one look at my battered face and doesn’t speak to me, for which I’m grateful. I wear a scarf, even though it’s warm in the school, and long sleeves. Jenna catches me in the hallway between classes.

  She hugs me. I grimace. My body aches.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says. “God, I was freaking out!”

  “Thanks for calling Ari,” I reply. “Her dad is basically the only person who was able to help me.”

  “I was standing in the lobby screaming when he showed up.”

  “Why am I always left out?” Ari complains, walking up to us.

  I smile despite my misery. The three of us all hug.

  “You look awful,” Ari whispers to me.

  “Yeah, you really do,” Jenna agrees.

  “Rough weekend,” I reply. “Soccer is gonna hurt like hell today.”

  “Maybe next weekend, we can try again?” Jenna asks, breaking away. “You can come, too, Ari.”

  “Sure,” I reply.

  The change in her is visible. She doesn’t look like she wants to kill me. That makes one less person who’s pissed at me. Of course, Dom will take her place when I send the text I’ve been tearfully crafting.

  “I gotta go
. We’ll catch up later.” Jenna walks away, towards her next class.

  “I’ve been replaced.” Ari crosses her arms and glares at me.

  “I love you, Ari,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes, and her worried gaze takes in my features.

  “I am so sorry, Mia.”

  “It’s okay. It was awful but …” I feel like I’m going to cry again and clear my throat. “The worst part is I’m losing Dom.”

  “He died?” she gasps.

  “No, no,” I say quickly.

  “Is this about you standing him up? You were trapped by a psycho in your apartment!”

  “No, Ari.” I love my friend more than I can ever tell her! “I want him to be happy. My life is fucked up. My family is fucked up. I’m fucked up. He deserves better.”

  Ari frowns fiercely. “You can’t mean that, Mia. I’m pretty sure he already knows you’re a walking dumpster fire. It’s not like it’s a surprise.”

  I laugh, unable to help it.

  “If he minded, he wouldn’t respond to your texts,” she points out.

  “I don’t want anyone else involved in my drama,” I respond firmly. “When he’s out of the hospital, I’ll tell him we can’t be friends.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that,” she says. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  “It feels that way.”

  “Mia, you’re beautiful. You’re my best friend. There’s no one better than you. Look what you did for me with Benji.” Her eyes mist over. “You can’t think that way.”

  The bell rings. I grab my books.

  “We’re late,” I say.

  Ari’s gaze is still riveted to me.

  “Let’s hang out tomorrow,” she says. “I’ll come over.”

  I smile. Even when all else in life is failing, I’ve got Ari.

  Soccer practice is every bit as brutal as I think it will be. Dr. Thompkins’ visits are down to once a week, on Thursdays, so I actually have a chance to return home before going to the women’s center. One of the Fabios follows me everywhere now, even sitting in my classes at school.

  Today’s Fabio opens the door for me into the apartment building, and I’m stunned by who’s waiting for me in the lobby.

  “Mama!” I shout and rush to her. I fling my arms around her, even knowing she’s too classy to hug in public.

  “Hello, mon amour,” she purrs in the husky voice that drives men wild.

  A vision of beauty, my mother’s dark eyes and carefully done blond hair are set off by a tight wrap dress and red heels. She appears only a few years older than me, with no sign of wrinkles on her porcelain skin. Her make-up is meticulous and smoldering, even during the daytime. She – and through her I – are heiresses to my grandpa’s fortune. She has always looked the part of a glamorous socialite, while I’ve hid in her shadow.

  “You kept saying two weeks and it’s been months!” I say in half-anger, half-excitement. I’m not sure what to feel. She’s beautiful as always, with no signs of there ever having been anything wrong.

  “Your face, my Mia,” she says.

  I pull away, and she touches my cheek with a frown.

  “I can teach you to cover those better.”

  “Mom, please.”

  “Show me your apartment, Mia.”

  I grab her hand like I would Ari and tug her to the elevator. She manages to wriggle and ooze sensuality, even when hurried. I’m envious and then not, because wanting to be like her is part of the reason I went with Robert Connor into the gardens. I wanted to feel as beautiful and glamorous as my mother appears.

  She smiles at the Fabio trailing us when he gets into the elevator behind us. I’m not surprised to see even his guard melt at her smoldering eyes. He smiles back. I roll my eyes and lead them off the elevator and to my apartment.

  “Lovely, Mia,” she says, stepping inside with me. “This isn’t your doing.”

  “Why, because I have no taste?”

  “Precisely.” Her smile is warm.

  “Want to see my closet?”

  She laughs.

  We’ve been playing the closet game since I was tall enough to walk. I would go into her closet and try on or steal clothes, and she would come to my closet and pretend she didn’t know I’d been the one to take them. As I grew older, into my teens, she began borrowing my clothing or bags, too, and I would hunt through her closets to find them.

  We go through my closet, teasing one another, the way we used to before she was sent to rehab two years ago. My mama’s laugh fills me with happiness, and I can almost imagine a time when we’d do this again, for real.

  At long last, we return to the living area. I sit on the couch. She sashays to the chair and perches on the edge, refined and gorgeous.

  “I thought you’d never be done with rehab,” I start, eager to talk to her about anything, even rehab.

  “Mon amour, there are some things I need to tell you,” she replies with gravity I haven’t seen before from her. “Are you well enough? I can wait.”

  “What things do you mean?” I ask.

  “Family secrets.” She winks. “Terrible ones.”

  “Oh, god. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  “Then I will not share them.”

  “You can’t not share them!” I exclaim. “You can’t tell me you have a terrible secret then disappear for another six months!”

  “Very well. But if I upset you, then I will stop,” she says. “It is true. I went to rehab for six months. But they released me afterward.”

  My brow furrows.

  “I’ve been living in Europe at Gerard’s request.”

  “Why would he do that?” I whisper.

  “Many reasons,” she says with an elegant, one-shoulder shrug.

  “So you’ve been in Europe all this time?” I ask, disappointed. “Why couldn’t you visit me? Why couldn’t I visit you?”

  “Gerard wanted us apart.”

  “You let him do that to us?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  When my mother says something like that, it means there’s some sort of issue about money. I’ve never understood why either of them are concerned about money when both sides of my family are wealthy.

  “Molly helped you resolve your issue?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “Good. Now you know another of the family secrets.”

  “Molly isn’t the perfect princess,” I murmur. “I can’t believe Daddy sent you away. He’s all-but-disowned me. Maybe we should both go to Europe.”

  “He loves you, Mia, but politics are in his blood. If he didn’t think you were strong enough to stand on your own, he wouldn’t have done what he did.”

  “You’re not gonna feed me bullshit, Mom,” I tell her. “Even Chris has stopped with his … well, with a little bit of his lawyer-speak. Daddy flat out told me he was choosing the Connors over me, and he didn’t care what I’ve gone through. I feel like I’ve learned more about my family this summer than I have the rest of my eighteen years!”

  “That’s probably true, Mia. We always tried to protect you.” Her words are calm, but there’s a spark of fire in my mother’s eyes. “You never should have gone through this alone. I am sorry things between Gerard and me are causing you pain.”

  “I’m tired of people giving me excuses for not being there for me,” I say with more emotion than I intend. “Molly and Joseph hated me my whole life because I was different. Daddy hates me because I’m different. Do you hate me, too?”

  “Of course not.” Mom smiles, the genuine smile she reserves only for me. “They resented you more because of what you aren’t, not because of what you are.”

  “You mean like how I’m not perfect like Molly or a statesman like Joseph or a good liar like Daddy?”

  “Or because they know you’re not his daughter.”

  I laugh. My mother’s sense of humor always catches me off guard.

  “I know it’s wrong, but Chris has been a better father than Dad
dy,” I say.

  “There’s a good reason for that.” My mom’s secretive smile is enigmatic.

  “Because Daddy never bothered with me growing up?” I retort.

  “Because your father is Chris.”

  I laugh again.

  She’s not smiling.

  “C’mon, Mama, I’m happy you’re trying to cheer me up, but I’ve had a rough few months, in case you forgot,” I remind her.

  “It’s another family secret.”

  I’m no longer laughing.

  “Gerard has always known. It’s why he’s been distant, and why I’ve been protective of you. I tried to love you enough for both of us. I still remember you chasing after him on each of your birthdays, begging him to come home in time for cake.” She smiles. “He never did. Remember?”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Absolutely. Gerard was forty five when we married. I was twenty years younger, closer to Chris’s age. He was young, ambitious, brilliant. We hit it off a little too well one spring, while Gerard was overseas.”

  “That makes no sense!” I exclaim, thinking this must be a dream. “Daddy would never claim me as his if I wasn’t.”

  “The divorce from his first wife cost him politically. It took him years to recover. He wasn’t willing to risk another scandal. Besides, my pre-nup would leave him without my extensive family fortune to fund his campaigns. If he stays married to me, he has more money than he could ever spend. You can never have too much money, mon amour, which Gerald knows.”

  “Holy shit. You blackmailed him?”

  “I reasoned with him in a language he understands.”

  My mouth falls open.

  “In return, he forced me to stay away until you were eighteen. The inheritances from my grandfather and from the Abbott-Renous were placed in trusts for any child born to Gerard and me as a condition of my pre-nup. Gerard was the executor of the Abbott-Renou trust until you were eighteen, when you assumed control. He threatened to disinherit you, if I didn’t agree not to divorce him. The only way we could stay together peacefully was for me to live elsewhere.”

  “It’s all about money,” I say, once again shocked by how obsessed the people in my family are with money and power. “I don’t care about my trusts! I’d rather have you!”