Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Storm Damages Trilogy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
A Note from the Author
Excerpt
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Storm Redemption
Storm Damages #3
Magda Alexander
Hearts Afire Publishing
To my amazing mother, Ana, who taught me nothing is impossible
Storm Damages Trilogy
Storm Damages
Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages #2)
Storm Redemption (Storm Damages #3) (this book)
I, like many of you, buy and download dozens of e-books. I get so many great books that often times, by the time I get around to reading them, I have forgotten what they are about! For those of you like me, I have included the original blurb to remind you just what you are getting into with STORM REDEMPTION (Storm Damages #3).
A Woman Torn . . .
Elizabeth’s rocky marriage to the volatile Gabriel Storm suffers a mortal blow when she walks out on him. But her love for her son and her husband draw her back. While fighting for a marriage on the rocks, she struggles to make him understand her need for a career. But it’s her unruly heart she fears most of all for it craves his every touch, his intoxicating taste, his hard pounding body. Will she stay and give up on her dream or walk away one last time?
A Proud Man . . .
Gabriel will do anything to save his marriage to the captivating Elizabeth. But when she goes to work with a hated rival, his proud heart won’t accept her need for a career. And when a threat surfaces once more, he must carve a delicate path between protecting her and giving Elizabeth the freedom she craves. But it’s only when he confronts his own demons that he discovers what’s truly keeping them apart. Will he change in time or lose her forever?
Storm Damages (the first book in the Storm Damages series) is available at Amazon. Here’s the link: http://amzn.com/B00DV7LVP2
Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages #2) is available at Amazon. Here’s the link: http://amzn.com/B00I2W94IW
To be notified about future releases in the Storm Damages Series, please sign up to my mailing list at: http://magdaalexander.us7.list-manage2.com/subscribe?u=9ff5625c4caa9ebf3602036b2&id=f098744e8c
Chapter 1
______________
London
Gabriel
SOMETHING NIGGLES AT MY BRAIN. Something that happened overnight. Half asleep, half awake, I struggle to remember what it was. And then it hits me. Andrew! The dream. The scent of gardenia. A voice in the dark. “I have him. He’s safe.”
I jump out of bed, yank off the pillows, frantically search the space on and around the bed. But he’s not here. My son is gone.
I pound the distance between my bedroom and his nursery, hoping against hope he’s there, that I woke up in the middle of the night and carried him to his crib. But when I arrive only Nanny welcomes me.
She looks at me with an expectant air. “M’lord?”
“Where is he? Where’s my son?”
“Why, her ladyship took him.”
“And you let her?” I scream at her.
A fearful expression rolls over her face. “Shouldn’t I have?”
She kidnapped him. Last night, while I slept. Dread claws at my gut, sickening me. Where could she have taken him? I bang a closed fist against the wall.
Think, you bloody fool. Think.
It’s after eight. And she took him in the middle of the night. They could be halfway across the Atlantic by now. I brush tremulous fingers across my brow.
But.
We have round the clock protection. The guards should have stopped her. But would they? She’s his mother, after all. Maybe they wouldn’t have. But they would have followed her to wherever she went. And Samuel would know.
I rush back to my room, as fast as my bad leg will allow, grab my mobile, dial his quick code. Samuel picks up on the first ring. “I can’t find Andrew. Elizabeth took him. Do you know—?”
Before I have a chance to get the next word out, my door bursts open and crashes against the wall.
“You wanker.” My sister. Blonde hair spiked every which way. Fire breathing out of her eyes.
“I don’t have time for your drama, Bri. Andrew’s gone. Elizabeth took him. God knows where.”
“She’s downstairs in my place, feeding him.” She spits out.
“She’s in Lady Brianna’s apartment, Sir, with your son.” Samuel confirms.
The strength in my legs vanishes and I drop on the chair next to the bed. Andrew’s safe. She didn’t kidnap him. I take a deep breath as the panic subsides. “Thank you, Samuel.”
I hang up, face Brianna. “Why is she in your apartment?”
“She appeared on my door step. At bloody two o’clock in the morning.” Her glare spears me. “Bedraggled, soaked from the rain. She’d walked for hours. Dragging that ratty duffel bag along with her.”
The same duffel she’d left behind in the limo the day we first met. Though it has seen better days, she’d brought it to London like it was something precious to her.
“She apologized for the lateness of the hour, but she didn’t know where else to go. She asked if she could stay for the night. She wouldn’t tell me what happened. But I can bloody well guess.” She marches up to me, punches my shoulder. “What did you do to her, you bastard?”
I rub my shoulder against the ache. Brianna packs a mean punch. “Nothing. We argued. That’s all.”
“Nothing doesn’t cause a woman to abandon her baby, walk out on her husband. You must have done something, said something, to upset her. What was it?”
I stand up, rake a hand through my hair. “I . . . I called Sebastian Payne. Told him she’d changed her mind, wouldn’t be working for him. Elizabeth—” The devastated look on her face flashes inside my head, tearing me apart. “She objected, said our marriage wasn’t working out, that she needed a break. And then she . . . left.” My voice cracks on the last word.
“And you just let her go without doing anything about it?”
I reel back to her. “What was I supposed to do, Bri? Tie her to the bed, bar the doors?”
“You’ve done everything else to keep her a prisoner here. Why stop at that?”
“I could never do that.” My voice drops to a whisper.
“No. You just order other people to hold her captive. Result’s the same, though. Isn’t it? Isn’t it, Gabe?”
She comes at me again, but before she can strike, I catch her closed fist. “Stop that.”
She steps back, still keeping that fulminating glare on me.
&nb
sp; “I didn’t lock her up. I was trying to protect her and Andrew.”
“And she still got hurt. God. She looked so pitiable. Standing there at my front door, holding her bandaged hand, hurting.”
The hand she’d injured while escaping the fire at Winterleagh. The blaze someone had set in an attempt to kill her and our child. I bow my head, drive the heel of my hands into my eyes to blot the tears.
Brianna takes a deep breath. “Gabe.” Her voice turns soft. “You need to fix this. She’s the best thing that’s happened to you.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I turn away, take another swipe at the moisture on my face. “I just don’t know how. I don’t bloody well know how.” I screech out.
“Aargh.” Exasperation’s clear on her face. “Tell her you love her, kiss her.”
I whirl back to my sibling. “Christ. Don’t you think I tried that last night? I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because she wouldn’t let me come bloody near her. She said she was weak when it came to me.” I croak out a mirthless laugh. “But somehow she found the strength to walk away.”
She groans, tosses back her head. “I never thought I’d say this. But you’re an idiot. A stubborn, arrogant idiot.”
“So what the fuck am I supposed to do now?”
“You pop down to my apartment, apologize for being an arsehole, and say whatever you need to get her back.”
“But.”
“No but.” One well-manicured finger points to the door. “Go.”
“Fine.” I stand. “I’ll need to dress, so I would appreciate my privacy.”
“Don’t fucking muck this up.” She flounces out without so much as a ‘Ta.’ Fine day when my baby sister reads me the riot act. But she’s right. I fucked up. Royally. And it’s up to me to clean up the mess I made.
I only take time to throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before I head out in search of Elizabeth. As it turns out, I don’t have to go far. She’s in the nursery rocking Andrew. The image of his mother, he lies in her arms gazing at her with an adoring look on his face, one she fully reciprocates.
I catch my breath at the glorious portrait they make. I should have them painted just this way. Before Andrew grows too fast, before his mother deserts me once and for all.
A lump grows in my throat. I swallow hard to clear it. At the sound, she glances up. A myriad of emotions—sorrow, love, pain—stare at me out of her amazing green eyes. “Gabriel.”
The reality that she hasn’t left, that she’s here, crashes down on me. My knees wobble. I clutch the door frame to keep me upright. It wouldn’t do for me to collapse on the floor, weeping like a fool. “You didn’t leave. You didn’t take him.” I rasp out.
Confusion reigns in her gaze. And then she winces as the implication strikes her. “Did you think I kidnapped him?”
“I—”
“How could you think such a thing?” Her breath catches, her voice wavers. “I would never take your son away from you. Never.”
Unable to meet the truth in her gaze, I bow my head. She’s right. How could I think she’d do such a thing? Elizabeth’s too honest for such subterfuge. If she came at me, she’d do it face to face, with a knife in her hand, screaming all the way. She wouldn’t steal away our child like a thief in the night. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
After a few seconds, I raise my head to find Andrew’s worried gaze on me, his eyes scrunched, his lips turned down at the corners. Where’s my happy son of a few seconds ago? He’s picked up all the tension between his mother and me. I approach, pat his head, chance a smile. It’s not much of one, but it will have to do.
His is tremulous, unsure. He looks to Elizabeth for confirmation it’s fine to grin.
“It’s okay, Andrew. It’s fine, my darling.” She kisses his head, props him over her shoulder, and gives him the combo pat-rub he likes so much. A world class burp erupts.
“That’s my boy.” Elizabeth grins, and I grin back, glad we can take mutual joy in the thing.
With perfect timing, Nanny strolls into the room. “Would you like me to take him now, m’lady?”
“Yes, thank you, Nanny.” With one more kiss on his head, Elizabeth hands him over and walks out of the room. I follow her down the hall. I think she’s headed to our bedroom, but I’m wrong. She takes a turn and leads me right back to my Waterloo.
Chapter 2
______________
Elizabeth
I’VE HELD TOGETHER through seeing him again, but now, afraid my legs won’t hold me, I head for the burgundy leather arm chair in Gabriel’s study. I spent half the night tossing and turning in Bri’s guest room, debating what my next step should be. Nothing concrete emerged, except for one overwhelming conclusion. I’m not leaving my baby.
Hands jammed into his jeans front pockets, Gabriel stares at me out of those beautiful aquamarine eyes I love so much. “So, you didn’t leave?”
Nothing like stating the obvious. Though tension arcs between us, his statement strikes me as funny, and I suppress the smile that flirts with my lips. “No. I couldn’t . . . walk away from Andrew.”
What about me? The expression in his eyes seems to say. What about bloody me?
His reaction sobers me. Wish I had an answer, but I don’t. It’ll take time to sort things out.
“You’re staying with Brianna?”
I don’t have to ask him how he knows. When I came up to feed Andrew, Brianna ate up the stairs alongside me and hunted down her brother to give him a piece of her mind. There’d been no stopping her, although I did try. “For the moment. It will give me a chance to figure things out. I’ll need to come up to breastfeed Andrew, and . . . play with him. You don’t mind, do you?”
He jerks his head, as if he doesn’t quite believe I’m asking that question. “Of course I don’t mind. This is your home.”
Gabriel’s study, with its rich burgundy leather sofa and priceless furnishings, screams wealth and class just like his living room furniture does. It doesn’t in the least resemble the casual style I much prefer. “Is it? It doesn’t feel that way. It never did.”
“How could you say such a thing?”
“Other than my clothes in my wardrobe and my son, there’s nothing of me here. Everything is yours. Your furniture, your paintings, your centuries-old family history memorialized on the wall.”
“Christ. So redecorate. Hire a designer, do it yourself. I don’t care.” He says it like it’s no big deal. Like it’d be so easy to change him or his world.
I shake my head. “I can’t alter a single thing about this place. How could I? I’m only your temporary wife. Here for only a year and a month.”
His mouth twists. “I only put that clause into the settlement contract because that’s what you wanted. When I spoke our wedding vows, I meant them. I never planned to let you go.”
My breath shorts. I trusted him when I signed that agreement, trusted he was telling the truth. But like so many other things he’s said and done, he wasn’t. He lied about heading up the New York office and about his mother’s whereabouts, kept me a virtual prisoner here in the penthouse during my pregnancy, and now this. I married him because I believed him, believed those lies. Unable to bear the pain, I rise from the chair and curl my arms around my waist. “Another deception, Gabriel. Where does it end?”
“Now. It ends now. I will never lie to you again.” His gaze is firm. Truth shines there. Truth and resolution.
My heart thumps in my chest. Am I supposed to believe him now after all his deceit from the past? God. I turn away and face the window where the bright light of day shines through the clear glass, illuminating every corner of this beautiful room. Do I want that from him? Illumination to shed light on every corner of his soul? It’s bound to uncover ugliness as well as beauty. And truth is not a one-way street. If I demand it from him, I must be ready to reveal myself as well. And when I do, what will happen? Will he still want me or walk away? Do I want to stay or go?
So many confusing thoughts. But one thing is clear. We cannot go on as we have been. Things have to change.
I brush a hand across my brow, marshaling my thoughts so I can make him understand. “Last night I was thinking—”
“Yes.”
This time I allow my grin to break through. “Always so impatient, Gabriel.” Except when it comes to making love to me. Then he has all the time in the world.
“You and I. We never followed the normal pattern of most couples.”
His brow scrunches. “What do you mean?”
“People usually date before they commit to each other. We never did that. We went straight from lust to marriage. We’ve never gone to the movies, or bowling, or done any of the usual things most couples do.”
“You want to go bowling?”
So literal. “I think we should date.”
“Date?” He spits out the word like it has a foul taste to it.
“Yes. Get to know each other the way most couples do.”
“I think we know each other well enough.” He tucks both hands into his back pockets, and his shirt tightens across his chest.
My mouth waters at the sight of his hard pecs, his flat stomach. God. Stay focused, Elizabeth. “What’s my favorite ice cream flavor?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Chocolate?”
“Strawberry. And my favorite color?”
“Err, blue.”
“Red.”
“Is knowing your favorite ice cream or color that important?” He scratches the back of his head, and the motion puts his iron-hewn bicep in full display.
My mind wanders to the times I laid in bed breathing him in, worshiping the strength of his arms, the sculpted perfection of his abs. No. I can’t go down that road. Such thoughts will derail my purpose, my goal. I bite down on my lip and muster through. “Yes.”
His jaw works back and forth. Clearly, he thinks I’m insane. “For how long?”
“For as long as it takes. And while we date, we can’t have sex. It will just muddle up things.” I can’t think when he’s fucking me. I’m barely rational now, and he’s standing several feet away. If we resume sexual relations, I’m likely to agree to whatever he suggests. And that I can’t have.
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