Prove Me Wrong

by Gemma Hart

  “And demand it is,” the reporter concurred. “It’s amazing how a company this young has broken its profitability records two quarters in a row!”

  Jonah smiled and motioned towards me. “You can attribute that all to my wife,” he said. “If she weren’t so talented, we’d have no business. I’m just thankful she’s found a spot for me within the firm.”

  I grinned and gave him a little elbow to the ribs.

  The reporter turned to me, her perfect white teeth set in a dazzling smile. “People were surprised when you turned down the Losel contract eight months ago. It was such a lucrative contract. Did you perhaps know what would happen to its parent company, DXC Global?”

  I shook my head. “Certainly not,” I said. “I only turned it down because Jonah had come to me, offering me the chance to start my own firm. It was a chance of a lifetime and I couldn’t pass that up.”

  “Smart and talented,” Jonah commented. “What else can you ask for?”

  The reporter laughed but I saw her dart her eyes at me in a little jealous flick. But I laughed it off. With everything we had journeyed through to find each other again, a jealous reporter hardly merited any attention from either Jonah or myself.

  The reporter turned her attention back on Jonah, asking why we had decided to elope instead of having a huge New York wedding which would’ve surely been the social event of the year.

  For a business interview, this had a lot of personal questions.

  I thought back to her last question to me. Did I know what would happen to DXC Global? No, I did not, at the time. But I had learned so after the truth of the matter.

  After Jonah had resigned, Martin Lowell had taken control of both DXC Global and Lowell Enterprises. There was huge speculation on whether the two companies would merge or if that was even legal. Some people cried monopolization.

  But it didn’t matter in the end. Because barely three months later, Lowell Enterprises was smacked with government sanctions for selling weapons to known enemies of the State.

  Martin was removed from Lowell Enterprises and was brought to the Senate for hearing upon hearing. Eventually, he was tried for lesser charges than flat out treason but the man would never work in business again. Last I had heard from Jonah, he had taken what money the government hadn’t seized and moved to Spain.

  Good riddance, it seemed like.

  Both Lowell Enterprises and DXC Global were now running with board approved CEOs that were for the first time since their inception, not Lowell men. Although the board at DXC did come to Jonah, asking if he would be willing to step back into the reigns.

  But Jonah had declined. By then C&J Designs was taking off like gangbusters and we were very happy with where we were.

  Only after all of this had imploded did Jonah confide in me the motivation that had made him leave DXC Global.

  I had felt immediately guilty hearing the story. I didn’t like knowing I had been used as blackmail against Jonah but he reassured me that all that threat had done was confirm the fact that DXC was not where he wanted to be.

  “I felt like my time was done there and besides, I wanted no part of a business that would threaten you and your career,” he said simply.

  And I had to just accept him at that. After all, it had all been done and dusted.

  Sitting next to him now in the interview, I couldn’t believe just how tumultuous the journey had been to get us here. There had been a lot of pain, a lot of tears, but also a lot of laughter and a lot of love.

  There was even more love now than ever before, if that was even possible. I smiled to myself. No, it definitely was possible. I didn’t do it but I mentally rubbed my belly. It was too early to make it public but our love had definitely grown by leaps and bounds within the last eight weeks. I couldn’t wait till we met the physical fruition of our love.

  Right, little baby? I thought, happily mentally rubbing my still flat belly.

  As Jonah spoke, I discreetly reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. Immediately, he closed his fingers over my hand, holding me tightly.

  “Well, I have to say, you two certainly make a good team,” the reporter said finally, and a little reluctantly. “Maybe you two were destined for each other.”

  I looked up at Jonah, smiling. I saw his gaze warm as he looked down at me.

  “Maybe we were,” I murmured, feeling the flutter of our love in my belly, growing bigger each week. “Maybe we were.”

  ~THE END~

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  Thank you so much!

  Hi, my beloved reader!

  I’m already typing away at my next release but while you wait for that, in the meanwhile, please enjoy a FREE copy of another one of my titles for your reading pleasure.

  Enjoy the sweet and suspenseful romance of, You’re Not Broken.

  You’re Not Broken

  Gemma Hart

  Copyright 2015 Gemma Hart

  All Rights Reserved

  This work is not bound by DRM, which allows you as a reader to enjoy this story on any digital platform you choose to use. But please respect the work of this author. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any similarities to events or situations is also coincidental.

  © 2015 Gemma Hart

  All Rights Reserved

  Dedication

  It’s a little scary to write from your heart and to put it out there.

  Thank you to everyone who reads my heart’s imagination.

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  Table of Content

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter One

  “Definitely a drifter,” Malcolm said with confidence as he polished a glass. “A serial killer drifter who’s having his morning coffee before he serially kills again along his drifter way.”

  Kat looked at her younger brother dryly. “Wow,” she said. “Care to be a bit more dramatic?”

  Malcolm shrugged his thin shoulders. Malcolm had always been skinny. Actually both of Kat’s brothers had always been skinny. But Malcolm was the taller of the two. He had been teased as a kid, being called names like beanpole and toothpick. He was tall and gangly with long arms and legs that he had never seemed to gain complete control over.

  His lack of grace had eliminated him from sports even though he was tall enough to play most anything. With his thick black rimmed glasses and broad but bony shoulders, Malcolm looke
d exactly like what he was—a bookish but lovably geeky brother.

  Taking no pains to hide his staring, Malcolm looked over at the customer at table six. Although Kat was trying to be more subtle about it, she was having a hard time herself trying not to stare.

  The man did look peculiar.

  He was tall, taller than Malcolm and Malcolm stood at 6’1. He had rough stubble that shadowed his rugged jawline. He wore a heavy olive canvas jacket that looked well worn and worn out jeans. His black boots were nearly gray in some areas, showing just how much love they had received from their owner. He had a charcoal gray beanie on that hid most of what looked like chestnut colored hair. And he kept his eyes down on his coffee.

  That had been all he had ordered. As soon as she had sat him down at his table, he had asked for black coffee and a spoon and that was it.

  Some of the regulars in the diner were also having a hard time not staring. This was a small town and any newcomer was news but any peculiar newcomer was a spectacle.

  And it was no wonder. This man did have a quiet draw to him. Although it was clear he wanted to just blend into the background of the diner, there was something potent about him that kept everyone looking over his way.

  “Well,” Malcolm thought aloud as he polished the same glass over and over again. “I suppose he could be a vagrant. A thieving vagrant who sneaks into towns and steals things at night and then disappears by day before anyone can catch him.”

  Kat gave her brother a pointed look. “‘A thieving vagrant who disappears by day before anyone can catch him?’” she repeated, staring up at him like he had completely lost his mind.

  Malcolm nodded with wide eyes, mistaking her incredulity for enthusiasm.

  She smacked his shoulder, the highest part of him she could reach. “What era are we living in? The 19th century? Who says ‘vagrant’ anymore?” Kat rolled her eyes. “And I’d love to see anyone, vagrant or not, not get caught stealing a town’s worth of stolen property. Malcolm, whatever books you’ve gotten into now, you need to take a break.”

  She took out the glass from his hands before he wore it out and replaced it with another one. “I see a man who looks like he just needs a quiet moment to himself,” she said. And it was true. If the man looked any harder at his coffee, he’d fall into it.

  Kat stacked away the cleaned and polished glasses on the rack below the soda machine.

  “Have you ever thought about giving Harry Potter a try?” she said, smiling to herself as she neatly arranged the glasses.

  Her nineteen year old brother sighed above her. Kat didn’t have to see it to know he was rolling his eyes at her.

  “Fine then,” he said. “He’s a Death Eater in hiding and he’s waiting for the Dark Lord to—”

  “Can I have a refill on my soda?”

  Kat stood up and slapped her dishtowel against Malcolm who laughed before she headed over to the end of the bar to refill Ernie’s soda.

  Ernie, owner of Bald and Tired, the local mechanics shop smiled at her as she refilled his coke. He leaned in over his nearly empty plate of chicken fried steak and murmured confidentially, “Looks like we got ourselves a visitor, eh?” He made a weird wrinkle with his brow towards the stranger at table six.

  “We sure do,” Kat said. “Looks like he’s enjoying the nice day.” She smiled at Ernie, who was as bald and often tired looking like the tires he fixed, before walking away. She didn’t want to engage in gossip about the stranger. That wasn’t polite. Especially since the man clearly wanted to be left alone.

  She went back and grabbed the coffee pot and did her rounds of refilling any empty cups and sharing a word or two of greeting or gossip with the customers. She had grown up nearly her entire life around these faces. They were as much her family as her own brothers.

  Finally, she reached table six.

  “More coffee?” Kat asked cheerfully, smiling even though the man wasn’t looking at her.

  The man didn’t say anything. She wondered if he hadn’t heard her. She bent over a little and said again, “Coffee?”

  He didn’t even stir. A little perplexed but not wanting to disturb someone who clearly was in his own space, she gave up and walked away.

  But before she was even two steps away, a large hand shot out and grabbed her left wrist. Kat gasped out of surprise and stared down at the large and callused hand that held onto her. Her eyes slowly traveled down the arm to the owner.

  The mysterious man was looking straight up at her.

  Oh they’re green, she thought dumbly as she stared into the deepest green eyes she had ever seen in her life. They were a dark, rich color that seemed to be able to emote all the things the man couldn’t say himself.

  Kat saw stiffness, exhaustion, and strength in the darker depths of his eyes but they were all covered by a sheen of pain. His green eyes, surrounded by dark lashes and set above a straight nose and a chiseled jaw, made her realize just how startlingly attractive he was. The realization shot through her like a hot electric bolt.

  “Miss,” he said, his voice a little husky. He cleared his throat and started again. “Miss,” he said again. “I hope this doesn’t come out wrong but…would you mind staying for a bit?”

  Kat furrowed her brows, confused.

  “Staying?” she asked.

  “And talking,” he added. “You know, a conversation.”

  She stared at the man. He spoke in a strained voice, as if it physically hurt him to ask a favor.

  Kat looked over her shoulder quickly and saw everyone in the diner staring openly their way. This was the first time this strange newcomer had spoken and they were dying to hear what else he would say. She saw Malcolm staring at her with bulging eyes.

  Malcolm shook his head and drew a finger across his neck. Serial drifting vagrant Death Eater, sis! Don’t talk to him! Avada Kedavra! Avada goddamn Kedavra!

  “Well,” Kat started, very aware that his hand was still wrapped around her wrist. Her arm looked like a tiny twig in his large grasp. “I’m the only waitress on the clock right now….”

  The man immediately let go of her, as if scalded by her words. “Of course,” he mumbled, looking back down at his cup. “I’m sorry.”

  It was irrational but Kat immediately regretted the loss of his touch against her skin. Her wrist felt cold without his hand around it.

  She saw Malcolm breathe a sigh of relief. He pointed a finger at her and then pointed to the space in front of him, his lips in a tight line. Get back here, missy.

  She saw the other diners still staring at the man, some of them with absolutely no pretense as they openly watched him sitting in his booth.

  There had been something in the man’s voice. It had been a desperate plea, his request. He had asked because he needed something more than conversation. She could tell that. But what else more he needed—now that was the mystery.

  But she had heard the pain in his voice. She had seen it in his eyes. And it was hard to walk away, having heard and seen all that.

  Kat took a seat opposite of him, decidedly setting the coffee pot down on the table. The man’s head jerked up in surprise, his eyes wide as he watched Kat get settled in her seat.

  She smiled. “I’m the only waitress,” she said, “but it’s a slow afternoon. I don’t think a few minutes would really hurt.”

  For the first time, a small light lit up the man’s incredible eyes. She saw a ghost of a smile twitch at his lips. “They’ll probably be too busy watching us anyway, right?” he said.

  Easy laughter bubbled up in her. Kat leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think you’re right about that.”

  Chapter Two

  “Well,” Kat said as she threw her hands into her lap. “What would you like to talk about?”

  Now that she was actually sitting down, ready to fulfill his request, the man looked a little flummoxed. It was clear he had thought his request a long shot. Again, Kat felt that razor heat bolt down her spine as she looked across the
table at the rough and rugged man.

  This was a stranger, she tried to remind herself. But she couldn’t help but feel that blush of heat stealing across her body. She tried smiling encouragingly instead.

  But the man still seemed at a loss.

  “How about a name?” she prompted. “For starters.”

  “Name,” the man repeated as if he had heard that word for the first time in his life. Kat couldn’t help but stare curiously at the man. Who was he exactly?

  “Yes, name,” she said. “You know, for example, I’m Katrina Ryans. The guy behind the counter who’s squinting at you but thinks he’s glaring is my brother Malcolm. And you’re in our diner which is named Doughy Pop’s.” I grinned. “Names. Now why don’t you give it a try?”