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

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her flirty tone did crazy things to my lower half. Fuck if I didn’t want to reach through the phone and snatch her to me, hold her tight, and never let her go. “But no. I’m flying solo tonight.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said, already through the door, car keys in hand. She might not want me there, but I wasn’t about to give her to another man without checking him out first.

  Once I arrived at Dystopia, it took another twenty minutes to locate Dakota. I found her in the back, crammed into a dimly lit booth with Muriel and two other men. They were clean-cut and handsome. I pegged them as investment bankers. The guy beside Dakota had his arm draped over the backrest behind her, his fingers hovering millimeters from her shoulder, a clear territorial marker. I stared at him through narrowed eyes. He grinned up at me, oblivious to who I was and why I was there.

  I nodded to Muriel. She lifted a hand in a halfhearted wave, dislike clouding her features. I never came face to face with the victims of my acquisitions. Muriel was a casualty of one of those deals. By the coolness of her gaze, she hadn’t recovered. Guilt warred with the other emotions in my head. I had become that guy—the one who valued money over people and success over happiness. If I needed proof, I found it in Muriel’s cool reception.

  “Hi,” Dakota said, smiling up at me. Even in the dim light, I could see the aquamarine of her irises, made brighter by the hue of her blue dress. It was low-cut, showing the upper swells of her breasts, and just as sweet as I’d imagined. “You remember Muriel? And this is her friend, Vance.”

  “Hello, Muriel. Nice to meet you, Vance,” I said, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from Dakota’s. Something new and unsettling swirled in her vibrant eyes.

  “And this is Eric.”

  A subtle shift of power blossomed between us. In the boardroom, I ruled everyone and everything, but outside the office, not so much. Definitely not with her. I thought I was in control of my feelings, of our relationship, but the guy sitting next to her suggested otherwise. For the first time, I realized—if I wasn’t careful—I could be replaced. My shoulders tensed.

  “Hey, Sam.” The guy lifted his chin in greeting. “Good to meet you.”

  “Hey.” I didn’t like him, not one bit. Not his clean-shaven face. Not his short, neat hair. Not his pale blue polo shirt, nor the burgeoning smirk on his lips.

  “Pull up a chair, Sam.” His fingers grazed the top of Dakota’s shoulder.

  I narrowed my eyes. His hand swept across her fair skin to curl around her bicep. A pulse of white-hot male proprietary anger shot through my veins. He was touching my girl. My girl. Mine.

  “Let me get you a beer.” He motioned to the waitress. An investment banker, handsome, and he was nice. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  “Thanks, but I’m just here to get my wife. We really need to get going. Are you ready, Dakota?” I asked.

  “Wife? I had no idea.” Eric lifted his hands in the air, palms facing toward me. “She didn’t say anything about being married.”

  “Because we’re not,” she said. “He’s my ex-husband.” By the tone of her voice, she was more amused than annoyed.

  “Come on. Let’s go.” I held out a hand and gestured for her to take it.

  “He’s very bossy,” she told the table at large but didn’t budge an inch.

  “That’s because I’m your boss,” I replied. “That’s what bosses do. They boss people.”

  She lifted her beer to take a sip, staring at me from over the brown bottle with large, round, mischievous eyes. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m off work. I’ll be back at the office around seven on Monday.”

  “We have some pressing business for you to take care of,” I said, forcing an even, quiet tone. Our gazes locked in a battle of wit and will.

  “As you can see, I’m busy right now. Why don’t you leave me a voice mail? Or better yet, send an email. I’ll take a look at it as soon as I’m free.” Full, pink lips pressed against the mouth of the long-necked beer. Lips capable of taking me to heights of pleasure or tearing me to shreds with a single word.

  Eric glanced between us. “Maybe you should step off, fellow,” he said. “It sounds like she doesn’t want you here.” I could tell by his halfhearted tone that he was making a gallant gesture, secretly hoping one or both of us would leave. He clearly had no interest in confrontation. I met his kind all the time in the conference room. I ate men like him for breakfast.

  “Do you want me to leave?” I asked Dakota.

  Someone cleared his throat behind me. I turned to see Xavier hovering at my elbow, Xandra at his side. Xavier’s wife always made me uncomfortable. She consistently stood too close, touching my arm or chest when she talked, smiling a little too brightly. At all the company functions, I went out of my way to keep a wide personal space between us.

  “Hello, Sam,” Xavier said. “Are you going to join us? Can I get you a drink?”

  “I’m not staying.”

  They brushed past and crowded into the booth with the others. Six pairs of eyes stared at me. Muriel and her date seemed nervous, exchanging glances and frowns. Xandra’s focus roved from my head to my toes a little too enthusiastically, making me grateful for the layers of dress shirt, suit jacket, and trousers between us. Xavier studied me with expectant calm, like he was waiting for me to snap, enjoying every minute of my discomfort.

  Eric shifted away from Dakota, obviously uncomfortable beneath my caveman stare. “Is there going to be a problem?” he asked. “Because I’m just out for some fun tonight. I’ve got my own ex to deal with. I don’t need tangled up in someone else’s marital issues.”

  Dakota’s laugh sent a flush of heat into my cheeks. “No problem,” she said. “I was ready to go home anyway.” She slid out of the booth and stood, wobbling on her stiletto heels. “Thanks for inviting me out, Xavier.”

  So the little peckerhead was responsible for this. His eyes met mine then flicked away. I could only guess what he was up to. He smiled at Dakota, lips curving up like quotation marks, genuine affection in his expression. “Thank you for coming. It’s been a pleasure.”

  The dimples on either side of Dakota’s mouth deepened with her smile. “Nice to meet you, Xandra. And you too, Eric.” He nodded, relief obvious on his face. “I’ll call you later, Muriel.”

  “Tomorrow,” Muriel said with another significant glance at her date. “Not too early.”

  “You got it.” Dakota straightened and drew in a breath, fortifying herself. Even on those rare occasions when she’d been drunk, she always kept it together. She did so now, smoothing her dress over her hips and thighs, before turning to look me in the eye…and walking right past me.

  “Wait up,” I said and lurched after her. The crowd of people surged and ebbed around us. For a fraction of a second, I lost sight of her amid the sea of strangers. She seemed determined to lose me. When she reappeared a few feet in front of me, I grabbed her elbow. “Hang on, Atwell.”

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.” She faced me, lips pursed. A drunk bobbed past us and knocked Dakota into me. Her breasts flattened against my chest, soft and warm. I placed a hand on the small of her back, holding her there, prolonging the effect.

  “I wanted to make sure you got home okay,” I said, staring into her upturned face, enjoying the way it felt to have her pressed against me.

  “You wanted to make sure I got home without Eric.” One of her brows arched in reproach, but her eyes continued to twinkle with merciless merriment. “For the record, Seaforth, you’ve got no right.”

  “I know.” Seeing her with Eric had made it painfully obvious. For the briefest of moments, I tumbled into the ebony pools of her pupils, dilated in the darkness.

  She placed a hand on my chest and pushed away. “Don’t forget it.” She looked so delicate and strong at the same time. When she lifted her chin in defiance, every muscle in my groin tightened. I loved the fire in her eyes, the way she never backed down, even when she w
as in the wrong. “You can take me home now.”

  “Okay.”

  Her hair was down the way I liked it, tumbling in loose waves over her breasts, brushing my hand as she moved away. Once again, she was on the move, surging toward the exit. The music swelled, making more words impossible.

  When I’d seen Eric’s arm around Dakota, I’d forgotten about everything else. All I could see was his hands on my girl, my wife, my love. Mine. The solitary word kept pulsing through my head over and over. Mine. Mine. Mine. After the million ways she’d broken my heart, I still wanted her all to myself. She still belonged to me.

  Ahead of me, she pushed through the exit door and onto the sidewalk, pausing at the curb. I signaled to the valet for my car. Dakota and I stood in silence. She listed to one side, similar to a young tree during a strong wind. Fearing she might topple off her tall shoes, I reached out to steady her, but she waved my hand away. The warning in her eyes disrupted my calm. I’d breached her personal boundaries by showing up here, and she had every right to be pissed. Palms sweating, heart skipping, I stared straight ahead, feeling the same way I had in the principal’s office during grade school.

  “And another thing…” She also stared across the street. “If you ever do something like this again, I will have your balls for breakfast. Do you understand?”

  “Why are you always disrespecting my balls?” God, how I loved her smart mouth. I licked my lips and fought away a smile.

  “Because you’re a caveman.” I heard the hint of amusement return to her voice. “And it’s the only way I can get your attention.”

  Chapter 27

  Sam

  FIVE MINUTES into the drive home, Dakota fell asleep in the passenger seat of my car. Her head lolled from side to side as I turned into the service drive of Infinity. When I put the car in park, she mumbled and roused enough to protest. I ignored her mutterings and struggled to extract her from the car. She’d somehow managed to tangle her arms and dress in the seat belt.

  “I said you could take me home. My home. Not yours.” She fumbled with the seat belt release, cursing beneath her breath.

  “My place was closer.”

  “I call bullshit.” She yanked on the seatbelt again, her frustration mounting as her motor skills deteriorated.

  “You’re getting drunker,” I mused. “How can that be?”

  “I had a couple of shots right before you got there. They seem to be hitting me.” Amused by her confession, she giggled. “Right now.”

  “You’re going to feel like shit in the morning. You know that, right?”

  “Do you have pizza?” she asked, eyes widening. She tugged on the seat belt again. “Don’t just stand there. Get me out of this thing.”

  “Hold your horses, sweet pea.” I rolled my eyes, secretly amused.

  I leaned into the car and tried not to look down her top at the smooth swells of her breasts. She relaxed into the seat with childlike resignation and waited while I untangled the restraint. After a few false starts, we strode down the curved walk to the back door. It had been a servants’ entrance once, leading to a narrow corridor and the stairs to my suite of rooms in the back of the house.

  At the stoop, I balanced Dakota on the top step with one hand while I searched my pockets with the other. Too late, I realized I’d dropped my keys somewhere along the way. I propped her against the doorframe.

  “You smell nice,” she said, leaning toward me to sniff my neck and almost falling face first into the darkness. I caught her and leaned her back against the house. “You always smell like sin.”

  “Sin?” I chuckled, checking my pockets for the elusive key once more. “I didn’t know sin had a scent.”

  “It does, and it smells like you.” She smoothed a hand over the placket of my shirt. The muscles of my groin tightened at her touch. Our eyes met. I recognized that look, the heat of desire building up behind her irises, the way her gaze dropped to my mouth. “You make me want to sin. A lot.”

  “Stay here a second,” I commanded in my sternest voice. “I’m going to go find the keys. Can you do that?”

  “Sure.” The way her lower lip curved into a smile drew my focus. “See you later.”

  “I’m coming back, goofy girl. Don’t move.”

  I turned and trotted down the walk, using the flashlight app on my phone to search the area. A glint of silver winked from the ground next to my car. I sighed in relief, shoved the keys into my pocket, and jogged back to the house. The stoop was empty, Dakota gone.

  “Kota?” I groaned and scanned the darkness, wishing the landscape lights stayed on past midnight.

  “Over here.” A small hand shot up from the forsythia bush a few yards away.

  “What the hell?” She was lying on her back amid the leafy brambles. “What are you doing?” I hoisted her out and attempted to brush away bits of bark and leaves from her dress. My hand grazed her breast. I jerked, embarrassed by the accidental contact. I stumbled backward, tripping over a sprinkler head in the process. She snorted with laughter. As if on cue, a fine mist of water shot from the irrigation system, dousing us both. A dozen more sprinkler heads popped up. Water hissed through the air, plopping onto the grass. I wrapped an arm around her waist and half-dragged, half-carried her through the spray and into the house.

  “I didn’t see that coming,” she said. Inside the laundry room, water puddled at our feet. The wet fabric of her dress clung to her curves, and the damp locks of her hair were plastered to her head. I could only guess my appearance was similar. “You look ridiculous.”

  A rivulet of water ran down my forehead. I swiped at it and glowered at her. My ruined silk shirt was plastered against my torso. I plucked it away from my skin. It gave way with a suctioning noise. “This is your fault. Why can’t you ever do what I ask?” I grumbled as I searched the linen closet for towels. “Just once. Is that so much to ask?”

  “I like yanking your chain,” she said on an exhaled breath. “And you make it so easy.”

  “Well, you’ve become an expert at it.” I grabbed two fluffy towels and tossed one at her. It hit her in the stomach and fell to the floor. She stared at her feet, swaying.

  “It’s a long way down there,” she said after a few seconds of contemplation. Her eyes met mine, warming my insides like a shot of whiskey. “I might not make it back up.”

  A smile lifted the corners of my mouth. I shook my head, retrieved the towel, and began rubbing the wetness from her skin. I started with her shoulders, sweeping down the toned length of biceps to her fingers then across the expanse of her chest. I lingered over the tops of her breasts, enjoying the intake of her breath as I did so.

  “Go ahead. Take it off.” I nodded to her dress.

  “No.” She scowled at me.

  “Your teeth are chattering so loud I can hardly hear myself think.” The defiance in her gaze made my pulse leap. So obstinate, my little Dakota. I used my thumb to brush a drop of water from her cheek.

  “This is a ploy to get me naked, isn’t it? Well, it’s not going to work this time.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You and your sexy abs and your mouth.” Her gaze homed in on my lips. “Why do you have to be so gorgeous? Why can’t you have a Quasimodo hump or something?”

  I lifted an eyebrow, flattered and irritated in equal measure. When I tried to unzip her dress, she flinched like I’d stung her.

  “No.” Fire danced in her eyes.

  “Jesus. Are we really going to argue about this?” As usual, she knew exactly how to push my buttons. “Take off the freaking dress, Kota.”

  “I said no.” When she tried to step away, her foot slipped in the water. She fell back against the washing machine, hands floundering wildly in the air for purchase.

  I grabbed her by the biceps, steadying her until she stabilized. She was rigid as an iron pipe in my grasp. “Baby, please.” The tension eased in her muscles. Feeling the smallest modicum of surrender, I continued in my best persuasive whisper. “You’re drunk and soaki
ng wet. Let’s get you into something dry and warm before you catch cold. All right?”

  “Okay.” Her gaze softened. “Will you fix me a peanut butter sandwich? I’m starving.”

  “Yes.” I tapped the tip of her nose with the towel. “Anything you want, darling.”

  Chapter 28

  Sam

  AN HOUR later, we sat in companionable silence before the fireplace in my living room. Dakota wore one of my T-shirts. The snowy white cotton skimmed over her curves and bare legs. I found it difficult to concentrate on anything besides the tension in my groin, knowing she was naked underneath. She clasped her peanut butter sandwich in both hands. I didn’t know how to cook many things, but I’d perfected the grilled peanut butter sandwich during our marriage. She’d remembered, and it touched me.

  “Mm…so good,” she mumbled through a mouthful. When her tongue swept over her lower lip, I had to suppress a groan.

  We’d done this so many times before the divorce. She would curl up on the couch with a book, while I sat a few feet away at the kitchen table to study. Those were the happiest times of my life. Things had been simpler then. All we’d needed was each other. The sight of her now, on my sofa with one bare foot tucked beneath her, hair spiraling over her shoulders, affected me in ways I hadn’t known possible. It seemed so right to have her there, natural even. I swallowed against the thickness forming in my throat.

  “You want another one?” I asked.

  “No.” She popped the last bite into her mouth then snuggled into my shoulder.

  Without thinking about the embargo on our relationship, I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Her head rested in the crook of my neck like it belonged there. Because it did, I realized. I shut my eyes, savoring the scent of her shampoo, the heat of her body through the thin cotton of the shirt. Sitting in that way, it was easy to pretend we were still together, that we’d never been apart.

  I dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “I’ve missed this, baby. Have you?”