Pretty Broken Dreams: A Pretty Broken Standalone Novel

by Jeana E. Mann

  Chapter 27

  Cam - Twelve Years Ago

  WHEN THE FOURTH cab rushes past my upraised hand, I burrow deeper into my coat and decide to walk the fifteen blocks to my apartment. Although the sky is clear and blue, the wind is biting. New buds dot tree branches, promising spring. I draw in a deep lungful of air, savoring the smells of the city. The scent of fresh bread prompts me to duck into the bakery on the corner. Vanessa will be hungry and will enjoy a freshly baked bagel.

  I’ve only been gone a few hours, but I already miss her. A smile stretches my lips. The man behind the counter hands the box of bagels to me. I give him a twenty and tell him to keep the change, because I can’t wait another minute to get back to my girl. We’re going to be so happy together.

  “Cameron? Hey.” The familiar female voice stops me at the bakery door. I turn to see Kate at one of the small tables, alone, a cup of coffee and a slice of coffee cake in front of her. “There you are.”

  An ominous shiver courses up my back. “Hi.” I start to leave then think better of it. I need to tie up all the loose ends in my life, put an end to my career as an escort once and for all, so I turn back to Kate. “How are you?”

  “Better now.” Her face brightens. She gestures to the chair across from me. “Have a seat.”

  “No. Thanks. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

  “Oh, right.” She winks. I don’t like the knowing smirk on her lips. “I was just at your apartment.”

  The color drains from the room, except for the red lipstick on Kate’s mouth. My mouth goes dry. “You were at my apartment? Why?”

  “You didn’t answer my calls, and I needed to talk to you.” A furrow deepens between her brows. “I’m going to Vegas for a conference next week, and I need a date for the dinners. I want you to come. All expenses paid, of course.”

  “I told you never to come to my apartment.” The cadence of my pulse quickens to an uncomfortable speed. I can’t breathe. She went to my place. Vanessa is there. Oh, my God. “What did you say?”

  “Excuse me?” Kate blunders on, oblivious to my impending meltdown. “I left my information with your girl. No fair, by the way. I thought you didn’t do overnights.”

  “Shit.” I don’t wait for her to continue. The bell over the bakery door echoes in my wake. I sprint down the street, losing the bagels in the process, shoving people aside, garnering curses from pedestrians. Defeat nips at my heels. This can’t be happening.

  At my building, I take the stairs two at a time. With each step closer to my apartment, desperation grows. The key won’t go into the lock. I pound on the door but get no answer. Finally, the deadbolt clicks. The door bangs against the wall behind it as I blast into the room. It’s empty. She’s gone. And I am so fucked.

  Chapter 28

  Cam - Today

  BY THE TIME Saturday rolls around, my body is a tangle of tension. Tristan suggests a night out on the town to take my mind off the recent trouble with Seaforth Media. A mutual friend, Galen Waltz, is throwing a birthday party for his sister at the hottest club in town. I reluctantly agree to attend.

  Galen greets us at the door. He’s from old money, the kind with no beginning and no end in sight. I met him in college, and our paths continued to cross through the years. He ushers us to a VIP section at the back of the bar, the bar he owns. The walls are black. Fog floats in the air, pumped from hidden machines. Bodies pack the dance floor. The richest of the rich are here tonight—socialites, musicians, actors.

  The circle of high society is surprisingly small. Most of the people are acquaintances. Some are business associates. Aside from Galen and Tristan, none of them are worth my attention. I’ve worked my entire life to rub elbows with the elite, only to learn they’re no different than anyone else.

  “How’ve you been?” Galen shoves a whiskey into my hand and a martini into Tristan’s. He’s a few inches shorter than my six-four, athletic, and dressed in charcoal slacks and a black dress shirt. An air of command envelopes him. Dystopia is his playground, and he lords over it like a king.

  “Good.” I’m already wondering how long I need to wait before I can leave. My mind is stuck on Melody’s Hope, the nonprofit organization I’ve set up for victims of abuse. The foundation is named after my sister, who passed away a few years ago. If Seaforth Media folds, the charity will need to find a new source of funding. I have plenty of resources, but I hate to see a decade of work thrown aside.

  “Don’t let him lie to you. He’s had a shit week at work.” Tristan smiles at the three lovely ladies across from us. I take a seat on the sofa. Their gazes travel the length of my body. A month ago, I would’ve invited them for a weekend on my yacht. Tonight, however, I can’t help comparing them to Vanessa. Their clothing is too tight, too sparkly, and their smiles too eager.

  “Anything I can help with?” Galen was one of the first to invest in my computer hardware company. When he’s not managing his chain of nightclubs, he likes to dabble in other people’s investments. Our little venture put some serious coin in his pockets.

  “No.” I don’t want to talk about work on a Saturday night. I came here to forget my troubles, not rehash them.

  “He’s having a conflict with his newest partner.” Tristan smiles and waggles his eyebrows.

  “Ah, the inimitable Vanessa Seaforth. She’s here, you know?” At the mention of her name, my gut flip-flops. Galen sidesteps an oncoming waitress and points through a small opening in the crowd. Against my will, my vision follows his finger to the group of women hovering on the fringe of the dance floor. I recognize Vanessa immediately. She’s wearing a short dress with a scoop neck, her ample cleavage on display. Her hair is loose, falling in spirals down her back. Galen studies my face, eyes alight with interest. “Should I invite her over?”

  “No.” My answer comes quickly. The last thing I need is a public altercation with my business partner. I’m still reeling from the way we parted. Her disapproval has wounded my pride as well as my heart.

  “I’m going to ask her to dance.” Tristan downs his martini in two gulps and shoves the glass at Galen. “You don’t mind, do you, Cam?”

  “Do what you want,” I say, ignoring the pinprick of jealousy. To prove to myself that I don’t care, I trade smiles with the girl at my side.

  “That’s what I thought,” Tristan replies, a knowing smirk on his face. He straightens the collar of his shirt. “Wish me luck.”

  I watch him cross the room, take Vanessa’s elbow and lead her to the dance floor. Her smile lights up her entire face, a smile I used to know so well but haven’t seen in years. Why can’t I make her smile like that? The answer haunts me every night. He places a hand on the small of her back, and jealousy licks through me like wildfire.

  “Hey, Cam, how are you?” A woman approaches, one whose name escapes me, but I’m sure we fucked a few years ago. Two friends flank her sides, simpering smiles on their red lips.

  “Hey.” I nod and return my attention to my phone.

  “Mind if we join you?” They hover hopefully on the perimeter of the VIP section, waiting for an invitation I have no intention of issuing.

  Galen grins sadistically and unhooks the rope to allow them admission. Bastard. “Sure, have a seat. Cam’s feeling a little blue. Maybe you can cheer him up.”

  The women take up positions to my left and right. I pretend to scroll through messages on my phone to avoid conversation. Galen calls for more drinks. The whiskey starts to do its magic, loosening the kinks in my muscles and blurring the whir of thoughts in my brain. It’s hard to concentrate, however, because the only girl I ever loved is standing a few yards away, and I can’t have her.

  Chapter 29

  Vanessa - Today

  THE HOTTEST CLUB in the city is Dystopia. The line for entrance winds down the sidewalk and around the corner to the next street. The waiting patrons are an eclectic mix, elaborately dressed, and exuding excitement. Four gigantic men dressed in black suits flank either side of the enormous glass en
trance. Their heads turn when our limousine maneuvers to the curb, and one of them speaks into a microphone clipped to the cuff of his jacket, presumably to announce our arrival.

  Sam’s driver, Rockwell, lowers the partition to the back. He’s been Sam’s chauffeur since childhood and is more of a friend than employee. He’s the same handsome, stalwart man I remember from my youth. His hair is silver instead of dark, but his eyes are still pale blue. Seeing him brings back pleasant childhood memories and a lump to my throat.

  He turns to look at us over the back of his seat. “Hang on a second, ladies. Your security is right behind us. They’ll walk you in.”

  An unpleasant reality of being a high-profile person is the constant risk of kidnapping or bodily harm. I grew up in the spotlight and have come to accept the constant flurry of bodyguards. They lurk on the periphery of my life, doing their jobs with quiet efficiency. Most of the time, I can pretend they aren’t there. Tonight, we have an absurd amount of security due to Venetia’s friend Sydney. She just starred in a blockbuster movie. Her likeness is plastered on a billboard across the street.

  Rockwell opens the door. Our security builds a wall with their bodies to protect us from the chaotic whir of camera shutters and curious onlookers. A murmur of excitement ripples through the crowd as Sydney gets out of the car. She smiles and waves. I’m the last one out. To my relief, no one notices. They’re too busy fawning over Sydney.

  “It’s so nice to see you, Rockwell,” I say and give his forearm a squeeze.

  “And it’s terrific to see you, Miss Vanessa.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles back at me. “I’m so proud of you.”

  No one has ever been proud of me before. The sting of tears blurs my vision. I clear my throat. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

  “No need to thank me. Just stating a fact.” He winks and nods toward the door, reassuming his professional demeanor. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.”

  Venetia and Sydney greet the bouncers with a wave. The bald one steps forward. “Right this way.” He hands us lanyards on delicate silver chains. “VIP passes.”

  People swarm around us, their voices buzz like bees. My feet stop moving. I stand rooted to the black marble tile in the entryway. An enormous crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting prisms of light on the walls. The steady thump of a bass drum permeates the walls. Dakota bumps into my back.

  “Is something wrong?” she asks. “Why’d you stop?”

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” I haven’t been to a club in years, and now I know why. The atmosphere is charged, the people glamorous, and the hour late. “I’m too old for this.”

  “Me too, but we’re doing it anyway. We’ve been working our asses off. We deserve a break.” Dakota grabs my arm, swinging me toward the bar. Venetia and Sydney, crowd behind us, blocking any hope of escape.

  “You have to at least stay until one o’clock,” Venetia says. She looks like Sam, taller and blonder than me. I remember her as a little girl. The resemblance is still there, but she wears an attractive air of confidence. “Beckett is watching the baby, and I haven’t been out in ages. Besides, Sydney’s here, and we have to celebrate.”

  “Hell, yes,” Sydney replies. Her black hair is swept to one side, held in place by a glittery comb. She smiles, parting red lips, revealing perfect white teeth. I have to admit that I’m a little bit star-struck. “Stick with me, Vanessa.” She hooks an arm through mine. “We’re going to have a great time.”

  “Fine. I’ll try.” My feet ache from the stiletto heels. I tug on the hem of the dress Dakota loaned me. It’s shorter than my normal knee-length wardrobe and exposes a maximum amount of cleavage.

  “Your boobs look enormous in that dress,” Venetia observes, echoing my thoughts. “Why didn’t I inherit big boobs? It’s so not fair.”

  “Because you got long legs. Don’t be greedy.” We exchange smiles. I hardly know her, but I feel an innate pull. The bonds of sisterhood run deep. I hope we can make up for lost time now that I’m back. She seems happy with her amazing boyfriend Beckett and their sweet baby. My family and circle of friends are expanding by the day. I need to be thankful for their presence and support. I tug on the dress one more time. “Can you see my bra?”

  “No,” Sydney and Venetia reply in unison.

  “It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s looking at Sydney,” Dakota says.

  Sydney rolls her long-lashed blue eyes, demonstrating one of the many reasons movie cameras love her. “Not that guy.” She points across the room to the VIP section, to Cam. My insides shrivel. Holy crap. He’s the last person I wanted to see.

  “Don’t point at him,” I say and duck behind the nearest person. “I don’t want him to see me.”

  He’s behind the velvet ropes, lounging on a sofa, a trio of beauties at his side. One of his arms is slung along the backrest. His knees are spread wide, long legs stretching into the aisle. The throat of his shirt is unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to expose sinewy forearms. He looks relaxed. A half smile plays on his lips.

  “You know him?” Sydney’s eyebrows lift. “Very nice.”

  “Who? Cameron Blackwood?” Venetia follows the trajectory of our gazes. “He’s always here on the weekends.”

  I roll my eyes. “Would you stop looking at him?”

  “I should have known he’d be here.” Dakota frowns. “He’s buddies with Galen.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” I want to crawl under the nearest table, but it’s too late. Cam’s gaze lands on us. My knees liquefy as our eyes meet. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.” I try to push my way toward the door, but Dakota and Venetia grab my arms. When I turn back around, his attention has returned to one of his pretty female companions. A twinge of jealousy tweaks my self-confidence. I don’t know why I care. He’s not mine. He never was.

  “Oh no,” Venetia says. “You aren’t going anywhere until we’ve had at least two drinks and danced.”

  Tristan steps into my line of sight, blocking Cam from view. “Hello, ladies. You’re looking lovely tonight.” His gaze drifts past Venetia and Dakota and stops on Sydney. “I don’t think I know your friend.”

  “Tristan, this is Sydney. Sydney, Tristan Avondale.” I bite back a smile as Tristan kisses the back of Sydney’s hand. She endures his flirting with good grace. He is, after all, a handsome guy with a crap-ton of money.

  “Nice to meet you,” she says. His face falls when she turns to chat with the young man next to her.

  “Don’t worry, you’ve still got it,” I tease. “She’s not your type anyway.”

  “What do you know about my type?” He lifts an eyebrow. “I used to think you were my type.”

  “I was never your type.” He places a hand over his heart, like I’ve wounded his ego. We both laugh. It feels good to smile again, and a bit of my strain ebbs away.

  “Dance with me.” He guides me toward the dance floor for a slow song. His arm slides around my waist, and we fall into step. He’s comfortable and familiar in a brotherly sort of way. I’ve missed him more than I care to admit. His left hand slips to my bottom. I move it to my waist. Same old Tristan.

  “Tristan!” His chest shakes with laughter. He’s teasing me. Mischief sparkles in his eyes.

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?” He guides me expertly around the dance floor. “You looked like you were at a funeral. At least I made you smile.”

  “Cam looks like he’s having a good time.” The statement slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. He hasn’t looked in our direction even once. Jealousy turns my vision red when one of the girls offers him the cherry from her cocktail. She dangles the berry over his mouth. He bites it from the stem, garnering smiles and laughter from his fan club.

  “Cam always has a good time,” Tristan says, adding fuel to the fire already burning in my chest.

  “He’s accomplished a lot, hasn’t he?” Part of me is proud of the way he’s built an empire from nothing. The rest o
f me is still reeling from our last meeting. Gaston’s parentage hangs over my head like a thundercloud. I can’t look at Cam without thinking of all the complications in our future.

  “I’ve never seen anyone so determined to succeed, Vanessa. There’s nothing he won’t do to get what he wants.” After a pause, he adds, “I’m sorry about the way things turned out with Seaforth Media.”

  “He’s really going to pull out of the partnership, isn’t he?” I ask, but I already know the answer.

  Tristan nods. “I don’t know why you guys can’t work this out. Whatever happened between you was a long time ago. You’re both different people now. No matter what you might think, the two of you have a lot in common.”

  “I tried to talk to him, Tristan. I really did, but he was so—so arrogant and condescending.” Thinking about his behavior fires up my temper again.

  “Deep down, he’s a good guy. You have no idea the things he does to help people,” he says, reminding me of Cam’s charity work. My anger recedes to a slow simmer.

  “I found out about the domestic violence shelters,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugs. “Not my place. His employees are required to sign non-disclosures concerning his personal life and our jobs. If you want to know something about Cam, ask him. He’s very candid about his past and his work.”

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “I’ve known him a long time. He’s more family to me than my blood relatives. I’d trust him with my life.” His arm tightens around my waist as he guides me through the crowded dance floor. I follow his lead, moving automatically, while my mind churns.

  “He’s done some terrible things.”

  Tristan studies my face before speaking. “Can you blame him? The odds have been stacked against him since birth. Despite everything, he’s managed to succeed. Maybe he walked over a few people to get there, but it’s no worse than anything my father did or yours. At least he’s committed to making the world a better place.”