His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit)

by Terri Austin

  It was over. Completely, utterly over. Iain had lost the love of his life, the woman who made him see people instead of drones. Who made him laugh. Iain had rarely laughed before Brynn. She made him want to be a better man—a futile attempt on his part. Now he could go back to being himself once again. His boorish, rude, hateful self. Making everyone in his life bloody miserable.

  On the drive back to his apartment, Iain replayed her words. He disgusted her, did he? Well, she’d never have to see him again. Never have to hear his declarations of love. Didn’t mean the feelings weren’t still there. Goddamn feelings. He hadn’t had many of those either until she’d shown up, with her I feel this and I believe that nonsense.

  Closing his eyes against the flash of neon and wandering tourists, Iain remembered that tear falling down her cheek. Iain had made Brynnie cry. He shoved that feeling of concern down.

  She had also told him to go fuck himself. She’d been hard then. Controlled. Huh, Iain had taught her well. That wasn’t the Brynn he was used to. Flashes of her smiling, sleepy and satisfied after they’d made love, flooded his mind—as did the times when she’d cushion her words, or when she wore that little apron, or when she curled up in his arms every night.

  Grabbing the dice from his pocket, Iain tried to take a deep breath. It was damned difficult. His chest was constricted. If he had a heart attack and died, he hoped Brynn would feel guilty for the rest of her long, sad life.

  You’re the one who made her sad.

  Iain tried to drown out that voice by going over the litany of Brynn’s sins. Problem was, she didn’t have many. She felt used by him, and rightly so. Iain would have felt the same in her position.

  Fuck. He couldn’t hang on to the anger. It was a mist that evaporated, leaving him with nothing—nothing but crushing, excruciating pain. What was he meant to do now? He couldn’t go back to the apartment. He’d see her clothes, smell traces of her warm vanilla scent. There was only one place he could go, really. One person who understood.

  * * *

  When Iain left, Brynn stood alone. She was in a daze. The silence was deafening. She couldn’t stand it another minute. She needed her sister. Allie may have driven Brynn crazy sometimes, but when the chips were down, she always had Brynn’s back.

  Brynn drove to Henderson on autopilot and replayed the conversation with Iain. He’d kept saying he loved her. Why? Did he really think she was stupid enough to believe him? After she’d learned the truth? Probably. He’d played her from the beginning, and she’d been so freaking gullible. He probably thought that if he looked sincere, used that wounded voice, she’d fall for it a second time. Not likely.

  When Brynn reached Allie’s house, Arnold, the butler, opened the door with a smile. “Miss Brynn, so good to see you.” But after taking one look at her, his smile slipped. “Oh, dear. Come along.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and guided her to the conservatory.

  Allie, Trevor, and the twins sat at the little table near the fountain. They looked so happy. They were a family. A real one. Brynn would never have that with Iain. All her dreams, her hopes for the future, crashed and burned. She was an idiot for having them in the first place. Brynn Campbell was a wallflower. This was what she got for stepping away from the sidelines—nothing but pain.

  Arnold cleared his throat. “Miss Brynn has arrived. I’ll make tea.”

  When the twins saw her, they leaped up and ran to hug her legs. “Aunt Brynn,” Zach said.

  “Did you come to swim with us?” Thomas asked.

  Allie’s eyes scanned Brynn’s face, and she paled. Standing, she tortured her napkin, wringing it with both hands. “What happened, Brynnie? What’s wrong?”

  Brynn couldn’t bring herself to speak. She was empty inside, as if she’d lost a piece of herself.

  Trevor’s cool gray gaze traveled over her. “Boys, grab your football and go out back. I’ll be right there.” They ran out of the room with stomping feet. “Are you unwell, Brynn?” he asked.

  Allie let go of the napkin and rushed to her side. When she held open her arms, Brynn fell onto her sister and began crying. Reeling from the agony of Iain’s deception, a mental fog settled over her brain. She half remembered Allie leading her upstairs to a guest room where Brynn fell onto the bed, sobs wracking her body. Allie threw one arm around her shoulder, letting Brynn get it all out. Finally, the tears slowed. Her eyes were left swollen and gritty.

  “It’s okay,” Allie said. “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix it.”

  Iain had shattered Brynn’s heart into tiny fragments. That was an unfixable offense.

  Brynn moved away from her sister and curled up in a ball. He used you. It hurt to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Allie lay down next to her, petted her hair. “It’s okay, Brynnie,” she kept saying, as though if she repeated it often enough, it would be true.

  In her mind, Brynn rewound time, back to the first moment she had seen Iain standing behind his desk. He’d made her so nervous, she couldn’t even look him in the eye. And the whole time he’d planned on fucking her to get what he wanted.

  Brynn didn’t know how long she and Allie had been lying there in complete silence. Still she said nothing, but at some point, the door opened and light dispelled the darkness.

  “What the hell is going on?” Monica had arrived. Just perfect.

  Brynn sat up, narrowing her eyes against the harsh glare. “Iain and I broke up.”

  Allie rolled onto her back and patted Brynn’s leg. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “You only knew him for a couple of weeks.” Monica parked herself at the end of the bed and kicked off her heels.

  Brynn was going to have to tell them everything. There was no way to avoid it. “Actually, we got married.”

  Allie scrambled up, her brows furrowed. “You did what?”

  “On Tuesday.” Then she explained the rest—Iain’s betrayal, the file she’d found, their heated argument. By the time she finished, she was crying all over again. “I hate him so much.”

  Monica’s eyes slid to Allie and they exchanged a glance. “Sounds to me like you love him,” Allie said.

  Monica adjusted her miniskirt and swung her hair over one shoulder. “Let me get this straight. You got married and broke up in the span of three days? That’s something I would have pulled, Brynnie. Are you trying to take over my title for being the family fuckup?”

  Allie glowered at Monica. “Is that your idea of being supportive?” she whispered, as if Brynn weren’t sitting six inches away. “If so, it could use some work.”

  “Excuse the hell out of me. Trevor called and said Brynn was having a breakdown. I’m just trying to wrap my head around all this. Cut me some slack.”

  “You cut Brynn some slack,” Allie said. Then she turned to Brynn. “And you. I can’t believe you got married and didn’t tell me.”

  “You’d have tried to talk me out of it.”

  Monica sighed. “I wonder why.”

  Allie set her sights on Mon. “You’ve made your share of mistakes.”

  “And you’ll never let me live them down,” Monica said sweetly—with a sneer.

  Brynn rubbed her pounding forehead. “Would both of you shut up? I love you, but I’m tired of listening to you argue. It was old ten years ago, and now it’s obnoxious. This is why I don’t tell you guys anything.” Neither of her sisters said a word for a full minute. It was a nice reprieve.

  Then Monica reached out and patted her leg. “I’m sorry, Brynnie. You know Allie and I fight, and it doesn’t mean anything. And hey, things might work out between you and Iain. I mean, look at Cal and me. We had a split, but now we’re good. Maybe you guys will fix your problems and find your happy ending.”

  Brynn stared at Monica with swollen eyes. “Did Cal lie to you?”

  “No.”

  “Did he fuck you, marry you, and make you believe that he was madly in love with you in a devious, underhanded plan to get his own way?”

  “Um, no
.”

  “Then I repeat, shut up.”

  Monica’s brows lifted almost to her hairline before she shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

  * * *

  Iain rang the bell for a good five minutes before Marc answered—wearing trousers this time.

  “Go away.” He tried to shut the door, but Iain wedged his foot in the gap to prevent it from closing.

  “I’ve heard that one too many times tonight, so sod off.” He shouldered his way past Marc and into the house. It smelled worse than before, if that was possible.

  Feeling hot and unable to take a deep breath, Iain ripped off his jacket, jerked at his tie, removed his cufflinks, and threw them on the floor.

  “If you’re here to give me a lap dance, no thanks.”

  Iain rolled up his sleeves. “She found out.”

  “Brynn?” Marc barely uttered her name. He was so drunk he could hardly stand on his own. “Told you,” he slurred, then shuffled toward the living room at the back of the house. There were a few empty beer bottles scattered about the place, but Marc had started on the hard stuff. He handed Iain a bottle of Jack.

  “You can afford better.” Iain took a swig and handed it back.

  “No, that’s you, mate. Always wanting the best. Wanting to make a name for yourself.” Marc tried to sit on the sofa, but his ass missed the cushion, and he landed on the floor. “How’d she find out?”

  Iain removed his waistcoat and tossed it on the coffee table. “Evidently, she went to my office. She must have seen the file, because she knows everything.”

  “Fucking hell.” He took another drink. “Do you ever wonder how we got here, mate?”

  Iain sat on the floor next to him. “What do you mean?”

  “We have everything, don’t we? But nothing lasting. Nothing important. No women. No kids. No fucking dogs.”

  Iain thought about his buildings, his goals, his plans for downtown. “No, nothing important. She hates me. Called me a liar. Said I was disgusting.”

  “Yeah, they do that.”

  Iain snagged the bottle and took a long swallow. “She lied to me, too. Said she wouldn’t run away.”

  “So she’s supposed to keep quiet and just get on with it? Of course she left you. Didn’t have a choice, did she?”

  “Said she wants a divorce.”

  “Are you gonna give her one?”

  A divorce? The mere idea made Iain start to sweat. Let Brynn go? Let another man touch her, love her—no. Never. Despite what he’d told her, they weren’t through. Not by a long chalk.

  Marc had said something earlier today, about living Davy’s life. The reality was, Iain had hijacked his dead mate’s dream. He’d been working his ass off all these years to prove he deserved it. He’d even dated women Davy would have been attracted to—hard women who were looking for a good time and a payout. When Iain had seen Brynn, he’d wanted her for himself. Someone that could be his alone. Just as he’d become hers, body and soul. He couldn’t let her go. She’d ripped his fucking heart out tonight. How could he spend the rest of his life without her? “I’m going to get her back,” he said, sounding far more confident than he felt.

  “How you going to do that?” Marc’s eyes were starting to drift shut. His words were punctuated by long pauses.

  Iain took the bottle and gently tipped Marc over. Once he was lying on the floor, Iain grabbed a tan throw from the sofa and covered his mate.

  Iain had no idea how to win Brynn back. Not one. But he would do everything in his power to make this up to her, to win back her trust. She was angry, yeah, but she was hurting, too. And she loved him.

  Chapter 22

  Iain was in a foul mood the next morning. He’d spent all night at Marc’s, twisting his brain into knots, trying to come up with a way to get his wife back. So far, he had zero ideas. Not a very promising start as far as plans went.

  Several people smiled at him and Paul from data insisted on performing some complicated handshake. “Chap. Good morning, my man.”

  Iain pressed his lips together to keep from snapping. He greeted Amelia and nodded at the new girl. “In my office, Ames.”

  She followed a moment later. “What’s wrong? Yesterday, you seemed like a normal person. Today, we’re back to business as usual.”

  True enough. He used to be grumpy every morning, before Brynn. “My wife left me. Marc’s becoming a full-time drunk. I need to win Brynn back, and he needs to sober up. Thoughts?”

  “You and Brynn got married?”

  “That’s what the word wife usually implies, yes.”

  “She left you already?”

  “Yes, Ames. Do keep up.”

  “Why?”

  “She came here yesterday?” he asked.

  “Yeah, looking for you. She came in here to leave you a note and checked her email.”

  That’s where she must have seen the files, on his computer. He’d figured as much, but honestly, did it really matter how she found out? The point was, she wanted out of their marriage.

  Seeing Brynn with her tearstained face, knowing Iain was the cause of her pain, nearly destroyed him, it did. Yet in spite of her broken heart, Brynn had confronted him. Stood toe-to-toe with him and told him what she thought. Disgusting. Go fuck yourself. No couching her phrasing this time—just straight to the point.

  Iain clicked a few keys, opened the file, then swiveled the screen so Amelia could see it. “Because of this.”

  She read the opening page. “You had her investigated?”

  Iain said nothing.

  Then Amelia glanced up at him. “When she arrived that first day, you weren’t surprised. You planned it from the start, didn’t you? Why?”

  “Her brother-in-law is Trevor Blake. Don’t look at me like that. I wanted Brynn, too.”

  “So you used her on two levels. For business and pleasure. That’s so disturbing, Iain. I don’t even have words to describe… God, what were you thinking?”

  “I just wanted to meet Trevor Blake. I didn’t set out to seduce her, right. It just happened. I didn’t mean to fall in love with her, either. I am a horrible person, but not that horrible.”

  “Brynn must be crushed from all this,” she said.

  “She is. But I plan on getting her back and making things right. Now tell me how to do that, would you?”

  Ames stared at him with round eyes. “How should I know? How do you make up for something this monumental?” She nodded at the computer screen. “Some things can’t be fixed.”

  “I have to fix it. I’m lost, Ames. I need her, don’t I? Nothing means anything without her.”

  “You’re such a stupid man. You and Marc both.”

  Iain rose from his seat and reached for the dice. “I understand that. But I’ve apologized. She won’t listen.”

  “Of course she won’t. An apology isn’t going to cut it. You’re going to have to give her some time, Iain.”

  “How much time? If I give her too much, she’ll start to hate me.”

  “I know you’re the ruler of your little universe, but you can’t dictate how long she’ll need. And if she hates you…” Amelia lifted one shoulder. “Call her. If she doesn’t take your call, leave a message, but don’t bombard her. Give her some space.”

  “That’s it?”

  With a sigh, she drummed her fingers on the file. “Prove to her that you’re not a totally despicable human being. Show her your good side. Remind her that you’re a decent person, Iain.”

  He sank into the leather seat. “But I’m not, am I? I’m a crap person. Until a few weeks ago, every employee hated me, and now my best mate doesn’t want to be my partner anymore because he thinks I’m a twat. I’m ruthless. I’m hard.”

  “You hide your caring side, but it’s there. Find what matters to her the most, and show Brynn how much you love her. Not her brother-in-law, not her vagina, just her. If you put your mind to it, I know you can come up with something.”

  When she left, Iain thought long and hard abo
ut what mattered to Brynn. Her family, obviously. Her friends. She liked to rescue broken things and make them whole. She’d done it with him.

  Still out of ideas, Iain called Brynn and left a message. Stilted. Awkward. He didn’t say he loved her, only that he worried about her.

  The second day, he called to say he missed her.

  Day three, he apologized again.

  Day four, he pleaded. She didn’t bother to reply—not that day or the next or the next.

  After a week and a half, Iain decided he needed a new plan. Brynn’s friends and family. That was the key.

  * * *

  Brynn put the finishing touches on a proposal for a new client, a family-owned microbrewery. Eleven of her TDTC clients had followed her immediately, and her new salesperson, Tash, had just signed up three more. Business was booming.

  She worked in the dining room while Tash and Paige took the living room. Paige was ruthlessly efficient. Though Brynn absorbed most of the start-up costs for a new computer and all the software she’d so desperately needed at TDTC, she and Paige were equal partners.

  Tash sort of pushed her way in. She was good at that.

  Brynn couldn’t stop yawning despite all the coffee she’d drunk that morning. She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since she’d found out Iain was a no-good, lying sack of crap. Instead, Brynn spent every night crying her eyes out and watching infomercials and old movies with happy endings. Too bad Brynn wouldn’t have one of those. Iain had crushed her heart, destroyed her belief in people. She’d never let another man come near her. Besides, she didn’t want another man. Ever.

  Why did she miss Iain like crazy? His smile. His scowl. That deep dimple in his right cheek. The sex. She missed it so much. Yeah, she was pitiful. Her husband had gotten her hooked on his primo sex skills so he could get his hands on Trevor’s money. He was a user. A manipulator. A liar. And she missed him with an ache that wouldn’t go away. Every morning, she was bleary-eyed, exhausted from too many tears and a serious lack of zzz’s.

  Brynn thought she’d feel better after confronting him that night, using her words in an effort to hurt him. But she felt worse. Besides, she couldn’t hurt someone who didn’t have a heart to begin with. He has a heart—Davy, Marc, Amelia.