Pretty Filthy Lies: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 2)

by Jeana E. Mann

By the time I finished my search, it was time to prepare for my date with Sam. If it was a date. I still wasn’t sure where I stood with him, but the idea sent my pulse into all kinds of crazy dances. He was beginning to trust me, and after meeting Fran, I had high hopes for our future together.

  Thanks to Fran, the gown looked spectacular. It was gathered in the right places to slim my curvy hips and emphasize my waist. I curled my hair with meticulous care and gathered the ringlets into a Grecian updo. Matching sandals and neutral makeup completed the look. I wanted to appear sexy but classy, knowing Sam would be the picture of sophistication.

  When he arrived at my door, he didn’t disappoint. He wore a black tuxedo with a gray pinstriped waistcoat and a silver tie the exact color of my dress. The appreciation in his eyes as they swept over me more than compensated for the state of anxiety I found myself in.

  On legs of jelly, I wandered into the ballroom at Sam’s side. He made an imposing sight with the inverted V of his broad shoulders and narrow hips draped in perfectly tailored Hugo Boss. Female eyes drifted over him admiringly, drawn by the contrast of his gold hair and tanned skin against the pristine white of his dress shirt. Pride tempered my trepidation. My boy had become a man and made a success of himself. I couldn’t claim any responsibility for what he’d done, but my heart swelled at the knowledge just the same.

  Dahlia spied Sam and made a beeline for him from across the room. When she saw me at his side, she stopped short. It was too late for her to turn back, however, and she met us halfway to our table. She avoided my gaze, focusing her attention on Sam.

  “Is MacGruder here?” Sam asked, ignoring the furrow between her fair brows.

  “Yes. He’s with his son Jared.” She managed a sweet smile for him. “I’m glad to see you finally made it. I was starting to worry. You’re never late.”

  He didn’t reply, and I saw the frank curiosity on her face at his lack of response. I admired that about him. He never felt the need to make excuses. He threaded his fingers through mine and pulled me toward our table. I jerked, surprised by the public display, but his fingers tightened.

  “Come on,” he said.

  We were at a table of twelve with an enormous crystal vase full of white flowers in the center. Their sweet scents lingered in the air. John and Jared MacGruder both stood when I arrived. Dahlia and an accountant-type guy were seated across from us, along with two more couples I didn’t know. Sam pulled out my chair and took a seat beside me.

  “Dakota, this is Beckett,” Sam said, nodding to the first couple. A tall, athletic man with a crew cut stood and offered his hand. He bore an intimidating air of authority reinforced by his firm handshake. “And this is Tucker.” The man beside Beckett nodded but didn’t stand. He was hot in a messy, bad boy kind of way. One large foot extended into the aisle by my chair. I couldn’t help noticing he wore black-and-white Chuck Taylors with his tuxedo or the blatant disapproval in his stare. My stomach churned with anxiety but I managed to give him a smile. Of course, his friends hated me. How could I expect any less? The warmth of Sam’s palm against mine steadied my nerves. He gestured to the man beside Dahlia. “And this is Mark, head of accounting at Infinity.”

  When the introductions were over, I sank into my chair, exhausted by the pretense of the event. I had no idea how to act around his friends. Did they know about us? I tensed, afraid I might do or say something inappropriate. Sam seemed at home. He gave me a reassuring nod before turning to make conversation with John. A few seconds later, his hand found mine beneath the table and gave it a solid squeeze. Warmth suffused me, the way it did every time he touched me.

  After the meal, I wandered through the auction items while Sam talked business. As he’d predicted, MacGruder had come back with a counteroffer not long after we’d left his office following our last meeting. Something he’d failed to mention during my punishment of the previous day.

  Thoughts bounced around inside my head, and I tried to make sense out of all that had happened between us over the past few weeks. I traversed the length of the ballroom twice, drank two glasses of champagne, and still hadn’t found Muriel. I smiled and made polite conversation with strangers and the few people I happened to know.

  Somewhere between an autographed Seven Drift guitar and a vacation trip to Italy, Tucker cornered me. “Thinking of bidding?” he asked. He stood next to me, hands clasped behind his back, attention trained on the items in front of us.

  “No. They’re all a little out of my price range,” I admitted. A sideways glance revealed that he was much taller than I’d realized, and he smelled phenomenal. Like soap and spring rain. I gave him a smile, hoping to ease the tension stretching between us. “You?”

  He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I find that hard to believe. You being a millionaire and all.” A hint of southern drawl teased his words.

  I bristled, and my defensive walls snapped into place. “My financial situation is hardly any of your business.” I wanted him to like me for Sam’s sake, but I wasn’t about to be a doormat for anyone. Not anymore.

  “What’s your angle anyway?” he asked. Our eyes met. His brimmed with blatant hostility tempered by genuine concern. My dismay lessened a bit. I couldn’t blame him for being concerned about Sam. In fact, I respected him all the more for it.

  “No angle.”

  The line had begun to move again. I stepped along with it, and Tucker followed at my elbow.

  “I find that hard to believe, given your track record.” He smiled at a young lady modeling a pair of leather driving gloves, handmade in Italy. She blushed and smiled back. While his voice and demeanor remained pleasant, his meaning was unmistakable.

  “I appreciate your concern for Sam, but you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  He leaned down until his lips paralleled my ear. “Name your price. Whatever it takes to get you out of his life.”

  My insides twisted. I bit my lower lip to hold back a verbal torrent of hurt and anger. It seemed I would never escape my error in judgment. I felt trapped in an infinite loop, destined to relive my betrayal over and over again. Perhaps this was my own version of hell.

  “There is no price,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  Tears burned my eyes. I blinked them back. I refused to let him see the way his words wounded me. And then I had a revelation. I would never be able to control what others thought of me. I could only control my reaction to their barbs. Something clicked inside me. The constriction of self-loathing eased the smallest bit. I was able to draw breath again.

  “Girls like you always have a price.” Tucker’s eyes narrowed, burning into me.

  “First of all, I’m not a girl,” I said. “And second of all, does Sam know you’re over here acting like his father?”

  Tucker looked down at his feet, conflicting emotions flickering over his features.

  “Listen. I get it.” I touched his arm to show my sincerity. “You’re worried about him, and you have every right to question my motives. I know my word doesn’t mean much, but I promise you I’ll never willingly hurt him again.”

  “I hope that’s true,” he said, blinking up to me. His eyes were hazel and rimmed with thick black lashes. Behind the questions and distrust, they were kind. “Because another deal like that might break him.”

  After the conversation with Tucker, I headed for the ladies room to regroup. I felt raw and unpeeled, like my skin had been stripped away and only my bare bones remained. On the way there, I took a wrong turn and found myself in an unfamiliar hallway. I was about to double back when a door opened in front of me. Jared MacGruder, Dahlia, and Maxwell Seaforth strode from the room. Taken aback, I stepped into an alcove, not wanting to interact with my three least favorite people.

  I drew in a deep breath, leaned into the shadows, and counted to thirty. When I stepped out of my hiding place and into the light, I came face to face with Maxwell Seaforth.

  Chapter 22

  Sam

  I WATCHED Dakota cross the dance f
loor and meander through the auction items. She stopped here and there to admire an item or chat with an acquaintance. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, even when MacGruder said my name three times in a row. Tucker held fast to her elbow, giving her an earful, no doubt. I knew he questioned her motives. I also knew Dakota wouldn’t take any of his shit. I thought about running interference but decided to let them work it out. Nonetheless, I breathed a sigh of relief when they parted ways and no blood had been shed.

  The silver dress looked stunning on her. My imagination ran wild, wondering what she wore beneath it. Fantasies of the hem pushed up to her waist, long legs straddling mine in the limo, and those damned white panties from yesterday made my cock stiffen.

  It had always been that way with us. I could never get enough of her. She turned me on in ways I’d never known possible. Time and betrayal hadn’t lessened the attraction. If anything, my anger toward her only made me want her more. Like a dumb ass, I’d thought I could fuck her out of my head when all it had done was cement her there more firmly than ever.

  I excused myself from MacGruder and pressed through the crowd toward her. I barely made it ten feet before someone touched my arm and pulled me into a conversation I didn’t want about things that didn’t matter. By the time I’d gotten to her side of the room, she’d disappeared into the back hall. I trailed along behind her, certain I’d catch her, eager for a few minutes alone. My father caught up to her first.

  When his fingers wrapped around her arm, a fury unlike any I’d ever known turned my vision red. I blamed him for everything, for her betrayal, for my unhappiness. He’d stolen the most precious thing in my life from me, and before I drew my last breath in this world, I’d make sure he paid the price for it.

  Dakota flinched away from his touch. To someone who didn’t know her, she would have looked calm and prepossessed, but I recognized the sheer terror on her face. Her fear made the beast rage inside me. I curbed my temper and stepped into the shadows. They were less than a yard away from me, and I could hear every word they said with disturbing clarity. I should have interrupted, demanded he take his hands off her, but part of me wanted to see what she said. I guess I still didn’t trust her, and this was the ultimate test.

  “You’re looking very pretty tonight.” The coldness in his voice disturbed me more than his words. “Are you ready to renew our partnership yet? I’ve got some great new propositions for you.” She ignored him and tried to push by, but he held on to her. He laughed. “Think very carefully before you answer, Dakota.”

  The expression on her face won me over. She lifted her chin, jutting it out in that stubborn way of hers, and squared her shoulders. An air of calm descended over her. “Let go of me.” His hand dropped away, but his sadistic smirk remained. “Don’t ever touch me again. Don’t speak to me. And don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I give a damn about what you think.”

  “Such a fireball. I admire that about you,” he said. “If only I were twenty years younger, I’d give Sam a run for his money.” My gut twisted with disgust when his gaze traveled over her. “Or if age isn’t an issue for you, maybe we could work something out.”

  “You’re revolting.” Dakota took a step backward, bumping into a small table near the wall. Its contents wobbled. He followed her. In another few steps, my position would be exposed.

  “I could use a wife. Think about it.” He straightened his tie, eyes still locked onto Dakota. My Dakota. “You could have the use of my money, and I could have the use of you.”

  Hatred for Maxwell Seaforth swelled inside me. Father be damned. My fingers curled into fists, and my vision turned a murderous red. He’d gone too far. Just when I thought he’d reached the limit of vulgarity, he always surpassed my very low expectations. A few weeks ago, I would’ve been curious to hear Dakota’s answer, but all I wanted to do now was rescue her from his villainous antics.

  I must’ve made a noise, because my father looked up and smiled. He stepped back from Dakota and raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Samuel. I was just telling your young lady how lovely she looks tonight.”

  “Are you ready to go, Dakota?” I asked, extending a hand toward her.

  She slid her fingers through mine. I drew her to my side, wanting to protect her. Touching her soothed the urge to pummel his face. If I snapped, he’d claim it as a victory. Rising to his bait would only exacerbate the situation. He wanted a reaction from me, any reaction, and I refused to give it.

  “Have you told her about our new corporation yet, Sam? Dakota will be interested in Seaforth and Seaforth. I’m sure we can find a place for her there.”

  His words followed us down the hallway. I felt her stiffen beside me. Her curious gaze weighted my shoulders.

  “What’s he talking about?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied.

  At the end of the hallway, she stopped. “Talk to me, Sam.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” I tried to tug her forward, but she planted her feet and refused to budge an inch. Always stubborn. Always persistent. Always questioning.

  “You need to tell me what’s going on. Right now.” Her eyes darkened at my hesitation. “You still don’t trust me.”

  The disappointment in her voice struck a nerve inside me. I had wanted this evening to be fun, not laden with the baggage of our past. I watched as my plans crumbled into dust, but I did nothing to stop the disintegration. “It’s no big deal. The man’s delusional. He thinks I’m going to join forces with him.” Stupid ass. I mentally chastised myself. Tell her. Tell her.

  “You mean he wants you to come to the dark side?” She lifted an eyebrow. Her ability to find humor in the bleakest situations only endeared her to me more. “And what did you say to that?”

  “I told him not to hold his breath.” I stared from the dark hall into the bright ballroom where the people milled about, oblivious to my turmoil. Gentle notes of classical music haunted the hallway. I wanted to tell Dakota more, about the special delivery packet, about his threats, but the words clogged in my throat. I was beginning to trust her, but I didn’t have the balls to make the leap of faith. Once I lowered the barrier between us, I’d be a goner. I’d have to admit I was in love with her.

  “What’s it going to take?” she asked, reading my thoughts. “Do I need to bleed before you’ll trust me?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Really? Because it seems simple to me. Either you trust me or you don’t.”

  I grabbed her hand again. “This isn’t the time or the place for this conversation. We can talk about it later.”

  She sagged against the wall. Her features drooped, and the hopelessness in her eyes tugged at my heart. “I’m exhausted, Sam. I’m constantly afraid I’m going to do or say the wrong thing. I feel like you’re always judging me, waiting for me to screw up.” I took a step toward her, wanting to comfort her, but she shook her head to ward me away. “The pressure is making me crazy.”

  “I’m sorry.” I shoved a hand through my hair.

  “So am I.”

  I raised her hand to my lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “This will be over soon. We’ll talk then, okay?”

  “Sure.” The flatness of her tone frightened me. She pulled her hand from mine and straightened her shoulders. “I’m going to the ladies room. I’ll catch you in a few minutes.”

  “Promise?”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I felt her slipping away from me, withdrawing. Panic tightened my chest. I watched her walk along the corridor, afraid to take my gaze from her. I remembered how much it hurt to lose her, the devastation of our divorce bubbling to the surface of my memories once again. I was going to lose her altogether if I wasn’t careful, and this time it would be no one’s fault but my own.

  Chapter 23

  Dakota

  I DRAGGED my fingers through Sam’s and left him at the entrance to the ballroom. His gaze weighed on my backside, but I didn’t look back. The encounter
with his father had left me cold, and I needed some time to pull myself together. I expected Maxwell Seaforth’s manipulative antics. In this respect, he never disappointed. After the tete-a-tete with Tucker, Maxwell’s antics seemed anticlimactic. But I hadn’t expected Sam to shut me down with his distrust. I’d proven myself to him time after time, but his inconsistent behavior was beginning to wear away at my optimism for our future.

  If I’d been less disturbed, I’d have paused to admire the damask wallpaper and muted gold color scheme of the ladies room. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors tracked my steps across the plush carpet. I’d only made it halfway into the room when I froze. Dahlia stood in front of one of the mirrors, hands braced against the marble counter, head down. She lifted her eyes to meet mine in the mirror’s reflection, and I saw streaks of tears down her cheeks. With a sniff, she straightened her shoulders and dabbed at her face with a tissue.

  “Excuse me,” I said, intending to pass her by.

  “No, wait. I’m glad you’re here,” she said and turned to face me. She wore an exquisite black gown. Geometric cutouts exposed portions of her cleavage and tanned flat belly. I was pretty sure the girl had never eaten a donut in her life. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

  “Sure,” I said with a politeness I didn’t feel. I had a few questions for her as well. The time had come to clear the air between us. “I’ve got a few questions for you, too.”

  “Fire away,” she said.

  “I saw you with Sam’s dad.” At my words, a flicker of panic sparked in her eyes. “Does Sam know you’re talking to Maxwell?”

  “We bumped into each other in the hallway,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I was only being polite.”

  “I don’t believe that for one minute.”

  “I know who you are. Sam told me.”

  These words stopped me in my tracks. “Told you what?” I held my breath, not wanting to hear what she might say, but knowing it needed to be said anyway.