“No. I won’t. It’s too cold,” I said, shivering to underscore my statement, in spite of the warm sunshine outside the windows.
“Like me?” Tension thickened the air between us. His jaw clenched as he waited for my answer.
“I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth.” I exhaled and tried to stay calm. “It’s just not for me.”
Sensing her tenuous hold on the sale, the lady chimed, “Of course, the colors can be changed to something warmer.” Animosity brightened her eyes as she regarded me. They held nothing but sugary sweetness when they addressed Sam. “Or if you’re interested in a total remodel, I know a decorator who would be happy to lend you a hand.”
“No.” Sam placed a hand on the small of my back and ushered us toward the front door, leaving the woman agape in the living room. The tension in his arm radiated up my spine. “Find something else.”
We didn’t speak again until we reached the car. Sam had always been reserved, the antithesis of my chattiness, but this silence harbored a new intensity. The stiffness of his shoulders and jaw encouraged my reticence. Miles of road flashed by outside the car. Buildings and sidewalks and lawns bathed in the early afternoon sunshine. I concentrated on the people living their lives, watched as they paused to stare at Sam’s sports car, and wondered where they were going. After ten minutes, the vacuum of quiet became too much to bear. I felt the telltale internal heat of my temper rising.
“If you didn’t want my opinion, you shouldn’t have asked for it,” I said in the quietest voice I could muster.
“You’re damned frustrating,” he growled.
“I don’t know why you’re pissed off. It’s just an apartment.”
“Townhouse,” he corrected. His fingers drummed a rapid beat on the steering wheel. “And who says I’m pissed?”
“Why do you even care what I think? It’s not like I’m going to be living there,” I said before I realized the implication of the statement. It sounded like I hoped someday I might live there when I knew damn good and well our relationship was on precarious ground. We hadn’t even been on a date. Even worse, it might suggest that I didn’t want to ever live with him again when maybe I did. Had I just shut the door of opportunity? I turned to the window and wrinkled my nose, chastising myself for the slip. “What do I know?”
“Exactly.” He downshifted, missed the gear, and cursed.
“You’re the one who’s frustrating.” A tiny spark ignited my temper again. My mouth commandeered my brain and rallied for a siege of my common sense. “I still don’t know why the hell I’m even here. Or did you just want me around so you could keep an eye on me? Make sure I’m not colluding with your father?” I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, turning my torso toward the door. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“Do I need to worry?” The engine roared when he stepped on the gas to pass a slow-moving sedan.
“You’re such a dick sometimes,” I mumbled.
“What did you call me?”
“You heard me.” I gasped and clutched the dashboard with both hands as he swerved the car to the curb.
He yanked the parking brake, jerking the car to a stop, and turned to face me. One of his hands fisted in the hair at my nape, pulling my face around to his. I stared at him, jaw clenched, daring him to say one more asinine thing. His nostrils flared and his gaze dipped to my mouth. Before I could draw breath, his lips were on mine, crushing and bruising in their need. I pushed at his chest with both hands. My arms softened when his tongue breached the barrier of my teeth.
A little whimper escaped me and wavered on the air between us. The tightness of his fingers relaxed in my hair. He growled, deep in his throat, the noise vibrating in his chest. The sweetness of his peppermint candy excited my taste buds and cooled my anger. When he pulled back at long last, my lips were wet and swollen, my mind completely blank.
“What was that for?” I asked, brushing the hair from my eyes with a shaky hand, and tried to fake some semblance of control.
“Just shutting you up for a minute.” Smug satisfaction drifted across his expression. “You talk too much.”
Chapter 5
Dakota
THE REST of the day went by in a blur. We met to go over the information about MacGruder, but Sam said little outside of the context of business. When we were finished, he had Rockwell take me home but didn’t emerge from his office to say goodbye. The snub rocked my fragile self-confidence.
When he called me to his office the next morning, I braced for the worst. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he didn’t want to try anymore. Maybe this attempt at reconciliation was nothing more than a charade meant to keep me close while he worked out the issues with his father.
I stood in front of his desk, hands fisted at my sides. He shuffled through a pile of papers, a scowl on his handsome face. When he didn’t acknowledge my presence after a full minute, I coughed. “You rang?” I was unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.
“Do you have a dress?” he asked, eyes still trained on his desk.
“I know you haven’t noticed, but I’m wearing one right now,” I said and tried to hide a smile of amusement at his exasperation.
Sam’s gaze swept over my figure from head to toe, so long and with such intense scrutiny, my nipples pebbled beneath the silk of my dress.
“I meant a formal dress, smart ass.” He bit his lower lip, and I knew he was trying to keep from smiling. After a beat, he blinked up to meet my gaze, green eyes twinkling.
“Um, no.” I paused to run through a mental catalog of the contents in my closet. “I’ve got a couple of cocktail dresses. Why? Are you upscaling the dress code?”
“The Vandalia Charity Auction is next weekend. You’re coming with me.” He pushed his chair away from the desk and leaned back so far I thought he might tip. He pulled his wallet from the top drawer of his desk, withdrew a black credit card, and extended it toward me. “Here. Get what you need.”
“Maybe I have plans,” I said, feeling the need to be contrary. Just because I was in love with him didn’t mean he could walk over me. The constant strain of having to prove myself was beginning to wear down my placidity.
“Like what?” He steepled his fingers in front of him and waited patiently for my answer.
“Plans. Things. Stuff.” I waved a hand vaguely through the air. I wanted to visit my brother Crockett. Since our last interaction hadn’t gone so well, I’d been avoiding a trip to the jail, but he was never far from my thoughts.
“Take it.” Sam twirled the credit card between his fingers.
I frowned at the card and took a step back. “I’m not taking your money. I’ll find something on my own.”
“Take the damn card, Dakota.” When his eyebrow lifted, I knew his patience was wearing thin. I crossed my arms over my chest and mirrored his expression. “Why can’t you ever just do what I ask?”
“Because you don’t ask. You order.” I elevated my chin. “What happened to your manners? You used to be so polite.”
His palm rasped over the stubble on his face. He blew out a breath, stood, and walked around the desk. I stared up at him, conscious of the heat from his body, the scent of his cologne, and the way he towered over me. When he hooked a finger in my belt and tugged me forward, my heart rate tripled. He brushed the back of his fingers over the line of my jaw.
“Dakota, please take the card.” The soft whisper of his request caressed my ears. His touch caressed the soft skin of my neck. Desire shimmered through me. My resolve began to weaken. “It’s a business event, and there are going to be a lot of important people there. I’ve invited John MacGruder and want you to help entertain him. I need you to look stunning.” He smiled, putting all of his considerable charm into the request. “Please?”
“Well, if you insist.” I took the card, but it felt uncomfortable in my hand. I stared at it, thinking of all the things it represented. Sam needed to know I wasn’t interested in his wealth. If I spent his money, I’
d be undermining my cause, his trust, and any chance at a future together. If I didn’t take it, I’d be relegated to wearing a secondhand castoff from the local thrift shop. After weighing my options, I set the card on the desk and shook my head. “I can’t use this, Sam. I appreciate the offer. It’s very generous of you, but I can’t. I’m sure I’ve got something I can wear.”
“Really?” He seemed genuinely confused by my refusal. He let go of my belt and sat back on the desk.
“Yes.” We stared at each other. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other but held fast in my stance.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” The fingers of his left hand scratched over his chin, a very delectable chin peppered with stubble.
“Yes.” I waited, my insides quivering as he contemplated my declaration. Seconds dragged by, unnerving me. “You may as well get used to it.”
“Then we have a problem,” he said, his voice deep and rough. My knees shook but I kept my head lifted.
“That’s your problem. Not mine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You can’t always have your way.” When a muscle ticked in his jaw, my stomach twittered, but I soldiered on, buoyed by my conviction. “Don’t be a brat, Seaforth.”
His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. I held back an inappropriate nervous giggle, knowing I’d struck a nerve. When his fingertip tilted my chin, I thrilled at his touch.
“Listen up, Atwell. From time to time, I may want to buy you things. Coffee. Lunch. Lingerie.” The depths of his eyes glowed. All the muscles south of my navel clenched in response. “And it’s your duty to accept them with grace and dignity for what they are—gifts.”
“I can’t,” I whispered, although every fiber of my being yearned to comply. “I don’t want you to think I’m using you.” I blinked back the sting of tears, overcome with an irrational need to cry. “Maybe later. But not now. You’ll have to compromise with me on this.”
“I don’t compromise,” he said in a steel-edged voice.
“Then you need to learn, or this isn’t going to work.” I watched his chest deflate with an exasperated sigh. He tugged his lower lip between his teeth, denting the full flesh. This was going to go one of two ways. Either he’d respect me for setting a boundary, or he’d be angry at my refusal.
“Stubborn girl.” He bent and brushed soft lips over mine in the sweetest of kisses. My heart danced in my chest. “Fine. No card.” He swept the card off the desk and tucked it back into his wallet. “But you’ll go see my friend. She’s got a dress shop on the upper west side. She’ll loan you something for the evening.” I started to open my mouth in protest, but he pressed his index finger to my lips. “Compromise, remember?”
I bit the tip of his finger, rewarded by his brilliant smile. “Okay. I can do that.”
Chapter 6
Dakota
OVERCOME WITH emotional and mental exhaustion after work, I fell onto the sofa. With a glass of wine in hand, I switched on the TV and prepared for a relaxing evening. Even though the day had been tiring, my head swam with visions of Sam at his desk, the way he smiled whenever I came into his office, and the brush of his lips when he kissed me in the elevator. Knowing he wanted me around was the biggest ego trip I’d experienced in a long time.
I’d just propped my feet on the ottoman and set the station to my favorite zombie series when my cell phone buzzed. It was Muriel. For a brief moment, I considered letting the call go to voice mail before guilt prevailed. I hadn’t talked to her in weeks, since she’d been let go. We weren’t best friends, but I’d come to enjoy her company during the years we’d worked together.
“Hey, how are you?” I asked by way of greeting.
“I heard the horrible news about Harmony,” she said, the frown evident in her voice. “Are you going to be okay?”
“What news?” I sat up and switched off the TV. I’d forced all thoughts of Harmony out of my head, finding them too painful. “I quit a couple of weeks ago.”
“Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.” I rubbed the space between my brows with two fingers, easing the tension. I had no idea how to explain the convoluted situation with Sam and had avoided her for that very reason. Luckily, she was distracted by my next question. “So what happened?”
“Seaforth closed it down. He let everyone go but a handful of people. They shut the doors this morning. Brian said that bitch-troll Dahlia came in with severance checks for everyone and sent them home. Not Brian, of course. He’s still there.”
Nausea roiled my stomach. I thought of all the hard work Ansel had put into building the company, the way he’d treated his employees like family, and how sad he would feel to know it had all been for nothing. My next thoughts were of Valerie and her disabled husband, Melody with her two toddlers, and the other coworkers who needed their paychecks. My final thoughts were of Samuel Seaforth, his realtor, and their hunt for the perfect abode, spending the spoils of his acquisition. Flames of anger tinged my vision with red.
“I can’t believe it,” I growled through clenched teeth. “He said he’d be fair.” I closed my eyes and counted to ten beneath my breath while Muriel carried on, oblivious. Conflicting emotions raced through my head. He’d promised to take care of everyone, and I’d believed him. I didn’t know whether to feel betrayed or foolish.
“I guess it all depends on your definition of fair,” Muriel countered. “I have to admit, he gave me a good severance package. I have an interview with his office for a marketing assistant position on Friday, but I’m going to cancel it. I don’t think I can work for a man like that.” She paused for a quick breath before continuing. “What about you? Have you found anything else yet?”
I guess she wasn’t as easily distracted as I’d hoped. “Well, I’m working for Sam—Mr. Seaforth—as a consultant. On a temporary basis,” I rushed the confession and braced for her disapproval.
“Are you kidding me? I thought you hated him.” Her voice raised an octave above normal.
“I don’t hate him.” It was true, but what I felt at the moment was much more complicated. Anger, resentment, and hurt jumbled together in a conflicted mishmash. This morning, I’d been overcome with excitement at the prospect of a new beginning with Sam. My hopes plummeted as I tried to reconcile the Sam I knew with the hard-nosed CEO of Infinity Enterprises. Was I so blinded by love that I’d misjudged him? I groaned and dropped my face into my hand in a weak attempt to hide from the reality of how little I really knew him.
“He’s the enemy, Dakota. Men like Samuel Seaforth think money is more important than people. They profit from the misfortunes of others. All they care about is gobbling up anything and everything in their sight.” She huffed. “Don’t tell me you condone what he’s done?”
“No. I don’t.” In truth, the longer I debated, the more furious I became. First thing tomorrow, I’d demand a full explanation. I had to believe there was a reason behind his behavior, something beyond monetary gain. I just couldn’t accept that he’d commit such a duplicitous act, or that I’d misjudged him so horribly. “I think it’s awful.”
“Are you going to quit?” she asked. As if it was that simple.
“Quitting isn’t going to accomplish anything.” After a month of unemployment, my bank account had drained to the last penny. My mother’s medical bills were mounting by the day, and she depended on me to help her with living expenses. “Except send me into bankruptcy.” The intricacy of the situation cramped my brain. I massaged my left temple to ease the strain. “But I’m not sure how I can stay under the circumstances.”
“What is this hold he has on you? I don’t get it.”
“It’s complicated.” I fought the need to explain myself. She wouldn’t understand the depth of emotion and heartache tangled between Sam and me. If I didn’t tell her, I would only be perpetuating the web of lies binding my past. The confession stumbled from my lips. “I got married. Right out of high school. We got divorced two years later. It wa
s Sam.”
“What?” Her laughter abraded my eardrum. I held the phone at arm’s length. When I remained silent, her amusement halted. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.” Anxiety rippled through me.
“You’re not kidding?”
“No.” The phone went silent.
“Oh, Dakota.” Muriel drew in an audible breath while I braced for an explosion of questions that never came. “Separated for all these years and then bam, he shows up at your office. Now I understand the way he was always staring at you when you weren’t looking and the way he chased you down in the lunchroom that day. That’s so romantic. I mean, he’s still a jerk, but wow. Just wow.”
“It’s not like that.” Her unexpected revelation caught me off guard. I wanted to protest but couldn’t find the right words.
“I need to know everything. How you met. Where you were married.” She paused for breath, and I stole the opportunity to regain control of the conversation.
“I’ll tell you all about it, but not right now. Okay?”
“Okay.” By the quiver in her voice, I knew she wouldn’t forget. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” My feelings clanged against each other. I wanted to believe in him. The part of me that loved him continued to think up excuses for his behavior, while the sensible side raged. I didn’t hate him, but he wasn’t winning any points by destroying everything I’d helped build. Even worse, he’d broken his promise to me. “I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow,” I said firmly. “I’d like to hear his side of the story. Maybe there’s a reason.”
This seemed to satisfy her for the interim, and I relaxed while she chatted about the new flavor of coffee at Joe’s Java Junction and the cute guy moving in next door to her apartment. I had a difficult time following the conversation, however. My thoughts kept bouncing back to Sam and my displaced coworkers.
“And I think I’m going to ask him to the charity auction next weekend,” she said. “Are you going?”
Pretty Filthy Lies: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 2) Page 3
