A Beauty Uncovered

by Andrea Laurence

  She was really quite striking. Certainly a change of scenery from fifty-nine-year-old Agnes.

  He loved Agnes like a mother. She was hardworking, efficient, if not a touch crotchety, but he liked her that way. Agnes was an office dynamo. It made Brody wonder how he was going to get through the next month without her.

  Agnes had mentioned this anniversary trip months ago. He had had plenty of time to prepare. And yet, he still wasn’t ready to deal with the actuality of her leaving for that long.

  When Agnes suggested hiring her goddaughter to fill in while she was away, it seemed like a sensible suggestion. But he hadn’t thought to ask if her goddaughter was attractive. He supposed most people wouldn’t think that mattered either way, but it did to him. Brody avoided most people, but he avoided beautiful women the most diligently.

  It didn’t make much sense to anyone, especially his foster brothers, who were constantly riding him to get out and date. But they didn’t understand what it was like. When they approached a beautiful girl, they only had to worry about rejection. And considering his three foster brothers were all handsome, successful and rich, they didn’t get rejected very often.

  When Brody approached a beautiful woman, he knew rejection was a given. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It was the look on a woman’s face when she saw him. That first reaction. That flicker of fear and disgust that even the most sensitive and polite person couldn’t suppress. In Brody’s world, that always came first, even if followed by a quick recovery and an attempt at indifference.

  But what was even worse than that was the expression of pity that inevitably came. Brody knew there were people with worse injuries than his. Soldiers came home from the Middle East every day with burns that covered over half their bodies. They didn’t hide away. Some were even outspoken advocates, role models for other victims. People were inspired by their strength to look beyond their scars.

  That was a noble choice, but it didn’t suit Brody. He hadn’t been injured serving his country, and he wasn’t interested in being the public face for acid burn victims. Being pitied one person at a time was bad enough. He couldn’t take the massive public wave of sympathy all at once. He supposed that was why he’d gained a reputation of being not just a recluse, but a real bastard. He didn’t like being that way, but it was a necessity. People didn’t pity the villain, even if he was disfigured. They just figured he got what he deserved.

  Turning back to the monitor that showed Samantha and Agnes going over some files, Brody sighed.

  Looking at a beautiful woman, then having her look at you like you’re some kind of sideshow freak… Brody didn’t want to deal with that any more than he absolutely had to. And that was why he’d opted not to go out and introduce himself yet. Let her think he was rude. Everyone else did.

  He was enjoying watching her from afar and not knowing what she looked like when she was horrified by his twisted and scarred face. She would be here for nearly a month, so Brody would probably go out eventually. But no matter how long he waited, she would still be beautiful and he would still be…what he was.

  A loud ping from one of his computers distracted him from his dark thoughts. Spinning in his chair, he rolled over to one of the six machines that surrounded his desk.

  The alert chimed after his web crawler software finished running one of its queries. He’d designed a system that scoured the internet daily for any searches or mentions of several things, including his given name, Brody Butler. The results were filtered to exclude any duplicates or mentions of the various Brody Butlers that he’d established as someone else.

  From there, he’d review the results for anything questionable. Anything that might cause him or his foster family any grief. If someone, somewhere, was looking for him, Brody would be the first to know. He was a very private man, and he didn’t want his past interfering with his present. It was the reason he’d taken his foster parents’ name after high school. He wanted to put his childhood behind him. He wanted to start fresh and be a success because he was smart and savvy, not because people felt bad for him.

  And for some reason, he worried that if someone connected Brody Butler and Brody Eden, it would lead to more questions about the past than he wanted to answer.

  Blame it on his childhood, but Brody never let his guard down. If something could go wrong, he was fairly certain it would. His brothers accused him of being pessimistic, but he preferred to be prepared for the worst. He hadn’t been able to stop his biological father from beating him, but he had always been mentally and physically ready when it came.

  So, like he had as a child, he slept with one eye open, so to speak. His eye was on the internet. If someone was looking for him, the internet was the smartest place to start. And he would be watching and waiting for them.

  “So what have we here?” Brody scanned over the report and breathed a sigh of relief. Someone named Brody Butler had driven his truck through a convenience store window in Wisconsin. False alarm. No one was looking for him today. Or yesterday. Or the past five years Brody had been watching. Perhaps no one ever would.

  His former identity had vanished after he’d graduated from high school. He was simply another kid lost in the foster system. Not even his real parents had looked for him. His father had limited access in prison, but his mother had never tried to contact him, either. Given that she had chosen to side with her abusive husband over her scarred son, that was just as well.

  Brody wasn’t sure he would ever understand women. He was smart, caring and successful, but most women didn’t see anything but the scars. And at the same time, his mother was attending every parole hearing, waiting for the day his abusive father was released from jail and they could be together again.

  It was better he stay in seclusion, he decided. Women, beautiful or otherwise, meant nothing but trouble and pain. He was certain that his new assistant was no different. She was a novelty, a shiny new toy. It wouldn’t take long before the shine would wear off and he could put his focus back on his work.

  Dating the secretary was not only passé, it was a bad idea. Even fantasizing about it was certain to cause problems down the road. He’d be wise to keep his distance until Agnes returned.

  Brody turned back to the surveillance monitors and found Samantha sitting alone at the desk. She looked so lovely with a blond curl falling across her forehead. It made him want to go out there, introduce himself and brush the hair from her face. It was a stupidly unproductive thought. He needed to stay as far from Samantha as he could. That meant working hard to put a sturdy barrier between them.

  He pressed the button on the speakerphone. “Where is Agnes?” he asked.

  His tone was a little sharp, and he’d deliberately skipped the pleasantries. He could tell she took offense to it by the way she straightened up at the desk and frowned at the phone. She brushed her curls over her shoulder with a sharp flick of her wrist and leaned in. “Good afternoon, Mr. Eden,” she said in a pleasant voice, pointedly ignoring his question and emphasizing his lack of manners.

  Interesting. Molly, his foster mother, would have his hide for being this rude, but he depended on his unpleasant reputation. It kept people away. Hopefully it would keep Samantha away, too. “Where is Agnes?” he repeated.

  “She went downstairs to take a file to accounting and to pick up your lunch from the lobby. She left me here to watch the phones.”

  Lunch. He’d almost forgotten he’d ordered food from his favorite Thai restaurant. “When she comes back, tell her to bring my lunch in. I want to ask her something.”

  He watched her on the monitor as she considered her words for a moment before pressing the intercom button again. “You know, she’s going to be gone for a month and you’re pretty much stuck with me. Might as well start now. How about I bring in your lunch, introduce myself and you can ask me your question? I’m sure if I don’t know the answer, I can fi
nd it out.”

  She was certainly a feisty one. Her second day on the job and she was already trying to push her way into his office. He was going to put off speaking to her face-to-face for as long as possible. Maybe even entirely, if he could.

  “That won’t be necessary, Miss Davis. Just send in Agnes when she returns.”

  There was very nearly steam coming out of her ears as she leaned in with a chipper “Yes, sir.”

  Brody watched for a few minutes as she angrily straightened up all the items on her desk. When that was done, she looked up at the camera. The breath caught in his lungs for a moment as he was pinned by her dark glare. He knew she couldn’t see him, but it felt as though she really were looking right at him.

  Looking at him without fear or pity or revulsion. She was irritated, yes, but he’d take that in a heartbeat to have a beautiful woman look him in the eye and not flinch.

  Too bad it wouldn’t be the same once there were no cameras between them.

  Two

  “I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.”

  Sam pressed into her temples and repeated the mantra to herself every time Mr. Eden buzzed her desk, but it didn’t do much to improve her mood. Frankly, it had given her a miserably pounding headache. It had only been three days without Agnes, but her godmother couldn’t come back soon enough. She had the touch for dealing with the beast, but Sam obviously did not.

  Agnes had warned her he was “prickly,” and there couldn’t be a more accurate description of him. He just rubbed her the wrong way. Okay, he was busy. He had an empire to run. But would it kill the guy to be friendly or at the very least, polite? To ask how her day was or to tell her good morning? But no, he only barked commands at her. “Get me this.” “Go do that.” “Pick up my lunch.”

  She’d already come to terms with the fact that she was never getting into his office. He had shut down any suggestion she made that involved that, so the mystery would have to remain buried. But he hadn’t come out of his office, either. He was there when she arrived and still working when she left. Why force her to sign a confidentiality agreement when the only gossip she could spread was that he was a jerk? From what she’d heard around the building from other ESS employees, that wasn’t exactly a secret.

  “I need this job.”

  Sam glanced at a few new emails and started typing up a letter. As the day wore on, it was getting harder to concentrate on her work. The headache was getting worse and she was starting to feel queasy. She hadn’t had a full-blown migraine in a while, but if stress set one off, that’s probably where she was headed. Her monitor was too bright. Every sound shot a sharp pain through her skull. She needed to go home, pop one of her migraine pills and take a nap to cut off the worst of it.

  “Mr. Eden?” Sam pressed the speakerphone button, as much as she didn’t want to.

  “Yes?” His response, as usual, was impatient and short.

  “I’m not feeling well. Do you mind if I go home?”

  “Is it terminal?”

  His blunt question startled her. “I don’t think so.”

  “Is it contagious?”

  Her new boss certainly had high standards for sick days. If she wasn’t on her deathbed or in quarantine, he didn’t seem to care. “No, sir. It’s a migraine. My pain medicine is at home.”

  He didn’t respond, but a moment later, the silver drawer shot out. Sam rose slowly from her chair and walked over. There was a lone bottle of ibuprofen in it. That wasn’t quite going to cut it. Apparently Mr. Eden was not afflicted with migraines. But his answer was clear. No, she couldn’t go home. She took the pills out and swallowed a couple. It was better than nothing. Maybe if she caught it before it was full-blown, she could keep it from getting too bad.

  “I ordered Italian delivery for lunch,” he said as though they hadn’t had the previous discussion and the issue was resolved. “They should be in the lobby in about fifteen minutes.”

  It took everything she had not to reply, “And?” He didn’t care that she didn’t feel well. He didn’t even bother to ask her to go get it for him, much less say “please” or “thank you.” It was just implied. He never asked her if she wanted to order, either. If she felt better, she might want to smother her irritation with a layer of mozzarella cheese, but she was never given the option.

  Sam couldn’t quite figure out if he was some kind of genius who was thoughtless of others or if he just didn’t consider her worthy of his attention.

  “Put it through the drawer when it arrives,” he added as though there were another option. He wasn’t going to let her bring it to him, so in the drawer it had to go.

  Without responding, Sam reached for her purse, pulled out a couple dollars and picked up the laundry bag he’d left by her desk that morning. If she wasn’t going home, she might as well carry on as best she could. While she was downstairs, she’d drop off his dry cleaning and grab a turkey wrap from the deli next door. Maybe some caffeine would help. If she left now, she’d have enough time to run over and get back before the deliveryman arrived.

  Her timing was perfect. As she strolled back into the lobby, she saw the delivery guy at the desk with a sack of food. Sam grabbed it from him and headed through the ridiculous layers of security to get back to her desk. She set both sacks on the desk and then walked over to the minibar where Agnes stored supplies to get a cup for her drink. She was about halfway there when she heard his growling voice over the intercom.

  “Uh…my lunch, Miss Davis?”

  “One damn second,” she said as she snatched a cup and slammed the cabinet door. She hadn’t spoken through the speakerphone, but unless the walls of his office were made of soundproof material, he certainly heard her. She didn’t care. Her head hurt, she was cranky and she’d reached her personal breaking point. There was no reason for him to be this rude.

  Back at her desk, she clutched the paper sack with his food in her fist, ready to sling it in the drawer. Then she stopped. This whole thing had gotten old, quickly. He wasn’t concerned about her headache, so she wasn’t going to be concerned about his empty stomach. If he wanted food on his own timetable, maybe he should come get it. She brought it upstairs. He could come the last ten feet.

  Sam slid the sack to the edge of her desk and looked up at the camera with an expectant arch of her brow. A moment later the metal drawer slid out to her. Nope, she thought.

  She unplugged the cord from her phone, switched off her monitor and slipped out of her black Michael Kors cardigan. Walking to the closest camera, she whipped the sweater over her head, covering the lens. The other camera couldn’t see her desk from its angle, so she returned to her seat and pulled her lunch out of the bag.

  She needed this job, but he also needed her. If he wanted his lunch, he was going to come out and get it. If he wanted her to do something, he was going to ask nicely. Sam wasn’t working here to be abused. If he didn’t like it, he could fire her, but she was pretty certain he wouldn’t.

  He had no one to interview a replacement.

  Five minutes passed. She could hear instant messages chiming on her computer, but with the monitor off she couldn’t see them. Another five minutes.

  Then she heard it. The click of a lock and the turning of a doorknob. She’d roused the beast from its den. She was getting what she wanted.

  And suddenly, she was nervous. She tried to go through everything in her mind that Agnes had told her. Scarred…don’t react…ignore it… She braced herself for his appearance and her non-response.

  The door flung open, and her stomach tightened into a knot. She expected him to charge angrily at her, but instead, she only saw his profile as he walked over to the surveillance camera and tugged down her sweater.

  It must be the other side of him that was damaged because what she could see was…nice. Really nice. He was tall and stron
gly built, which was surprising for a computer geek. His expertly tailored navy suit stretched across wide shoulders. He had dark brown, almost black hair that was short but a little shaggy and curling at the collar. And his strong jawline, high cheekbones and sharp nose gave him quite a regal and aristocratic air.

  He was actually quite an attractive man. He almost had a movie star quality about him. Sam preferred her men tall, dark and handsome, and he seemed to fit the bill. She didn’t understand what he was…

  Then he turned to face her. Sam struggled to hold a neutral expression as he walked to her, but it was hard. The whole left side of his face was horribly scarred. The skin was puckered and twisted from his temple to his jaw and down his neck. It extended back to his ear, warping the cartilage and pushing his hairline back about an inch from where it was on the other side of his face. His eye, nose and mouth were unscathed, but as he reached out to hand her back her sweater, she saw why.

  His left hand was scarred, as well. You could almost see the outline on his face where he had reached up to protect himself from something. She didn’t know what, but it must have been horrible.

  She swallowed hard and accepted her sweater, refusing to break eye contact. That part was easier because he had the most amazing blue eyes. They were dark blue like the most expensive sapphires, and they glittered just as brightly, fringed by thick black lashes. Sam could easily lose herself in those eyes and forget about everything else.

  Only the loud click of the phone cord being plugged back in pulled her away. She looked down in time to see him snatch up his lunch. He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her with a mix of irritation and confusion.