Pretty Broken Girl

by Jeana E. Mann

  “So what did you do?” I asked to break the silence. “To lose your car, I mean?”

  His hands rested on the tops of his thighs, fingers splayed. They clenched at my questions then relaxed with visible effort. “I missed one of my mother’s dinner parties.”

  “For real? That’s it?” I’d been grounded more times than I cared to count. Most recently for smoking. Twice last month for staying out too late on a school night.

  The smooth skin above his brows furrowed. “It was a really important dinner party.”

  “What were you doing?”

  A slow grin curved his mouth. I was beginning to enjoy his smiles almost as much as I enjoyed the vivid emerald hue of his eyes. Earning his approval warmed me from the inside out. He leaned forward as if about to reveal a devastating secret. “I can’t tell you, but I can show you.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Dakota - Now

  BY THE TIME I got to Ansel’s office after the meeting, I thought I might pass out from nervous anxiety. Samuel sat in the leather chair behind the mahogany desk with his back to the door. The sight of his ruffled hair sent a shard of panic straight into my gut. My entire future rested in the hands of a man who hated me. Feeling like a prisoner about to face his executioner, I slid into the chair across from him and tried to school my features into nonchalance.

  “You wanted to see me?” I asked.

  He swiveled around to face me and raised a finger, indicating silence. For the first time, I saw the Bluetooth in his ear. His eyes met mine without a hint of emotion and flicked away like we were strangers. Which we were. Sort of. I smoothed the fabric of my skirt over my thighs with sweaty palms and tried to steady my fluttering insides.

  With his attention focused elsewhere, I cast a surreptitious glance at him. It had been ten years since we’d been this close, and the subtle changes in his face fascinated me. There were fine lines around his eyes, and a tiny scar marred his upper lip. Dark gold scruff stubbled his cheeks where his skin had once been smooth. He’d always been attractive, but age and experience had matured him into a handsome man. More than handsome. The guy was still freaking hot. Hotter, if it was even possible. A ripple of lust shimmered through my torso and tightened my nipples. Damn nipples. I crossed my arms over my chest to hide them. He’d always had that effect on me. I guessed some things never changed.

  “I don’t care whose fault it is. I want you to take care of it.” Samuel’s words were calm, but the edge to his voice made my skin prickle with renewed alarm. This was a man used to giving orders and having them followed without question. Gone was the unassuming boy from my youth. I felt a sharp pang of longing for him—that sweet, playful boy. What had caused this dramatic shift? Something significant must have happened to catapult this change. “When you call me back the next time, the only words I want to hear from your mouth are ‘it’s done.’”

  Samuel disconnected the call and turned the full force of his gaze onto me. We stared at each other for an interminable minute. I saw the eyes of a stranger in the face of my ex-husband. Impersonal. Assessing. Cold. He cleared his throat, and I jumped like he’d stuck me with a pin.

  “Dakota.” He said my name, eyes clouding, as if it were a curse word. “It’s been awhile.”

  “Yes. It has. How’ve you been?” Casual words, considering the circumstances of our breakup. I heard my voice in the distance, calm and controlled, reflecting none of the turmoil churning inside me.

  “Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we?” His complete disregard for pleasantries caught me off-guard. I gulped. He tapped his fingernails on the desk. “We’re here to discuss your future employment with Infinity Enterprises. I have a dozen acquisition managers. I need to know why I should keep you on here.”

  Jesus. Was this my interview? For some reason, I’d expected a Human Resources representative or a department head, not the CEO of the company, a.k.a. my ex-husband. I curled my hands into fists, determined to calm my quaking insides. I thought I’d at least have time to prepare. A second glance at his impassive face steeled my nerves. I could do this. Working under pressure was one of my best skills. I drew on it now.

  “I wasn’t aware this was an interview or I would have brought my resume,” I said, drawing myself up straighter on the edge of my chair.

  “I’ve seen your resume,” he interrupted. “I want to know why I should forget everything I know about you and make you a part of my team. What makes you worth my time and money?” The way he said the word money sent heat rushing into my cheeks.

  “I have a contract,” I said, keeping my voice level and calm, trying not to sound smug. Internally, I thanked Ansel again for insisting on the formality of an employment agreement.

  “So you do. With a non-compete clause that prevents you from working within a fifty-mile radius should your employment here end. The way I see it, if you don’t take my offer, you’ll be unemployed for the next two years.” His lips twitched, holding back a smile. “The contract means nothing to me. If I wanted to, I could end your career with a few phone calls.”

  He did not just go there. His callous manner sparked my indignation. Dirty bastard. If that was the way he wanted to play, I was all in. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  This time he didn’t curb his grin. “I can and I would.” He tapped a manicured fingernail on the desktop. “Now, convince me, and make it good.”

  Who was this jerk? Certainly not the laidback guy I’d married. I coughed and wished desperately for a glass of water while I tried to gather my defense.

  “Today, Dakota.” His finger tapped again on the desk.

  “I’m sure Ansel will tell you I’ve been an exemplary employee. Over the past two years, I headed numerous projects and scouted eight building sites. All of them successful. I brought on three new clients, a total of five million dollars revenue in the last fiscal year, and I have several prospects for the upcoming year. I’d be happy to provide you with a copy of my projections.” I paused to form my next words.

  “I know all of these things already, Dakota.” He stood and leaned forward over the desk, jaw clenched, and stared me down with the animosity of a lion eyeing his lunch. “What I want to know is if you’ve changed. How do I know you aren’t going to abandon the company when things get tough? How do I know you won’t sell out confidential information to the highest bidder?” The way you sold me out. He didn’t say those last words, but I heard them loud and clear. Our noses were now inches apart, and I felt the heat of his breath on my face. A strange tingle erupted between my legs. Powerful men turned me on. I didn’t want this one to know the way he affected me. I squelched the attraction by squeezing my thighs together. “How do I know you won’t fuck me over again, Dakota? What kind of assurance can you give me?”

  Apparently, time didn’t heal all wounds. I’d hurt him, and the gash of my actions still gaped open years later. I saw it in the flash of his eyes, the muscle ticking in his cheek, and the thinning of his lips. He hated me. And I deserved it.

  “You, of all people, should know there are no assurances in life,” I said, a strange sense of calm washing over me in spite of my shame. He had every right to be pissed. I’d treated him horribly, left him without explanation, and been paid handsomely for doing so. For years, I’d locked away the shame of accepting a bribe, the pain of abandoning the love of my life, refusing to acknowledge it. Face to face with the victim of my actions, the ache returned, fresh and impossible to ignore. I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat, but it hung there.

  He came around the desk in two long strides and gripped me by the arms, lifting me to my feet. The power in his grasp radiated through my biceps. I was tall at five-nine, but he was taller and much stronger. I tipped my head back to meet his eyes. They flashed with such fire and animosity that my heart skipped a beat.

  “Uh, I’m guessing you’re still pissed,” I said, trying to make light of the situation and, by the tightness of his hold, failed miserably.

  “When I saw your name
on the employee roster, I nearly choked on my breakfast,” he said. “I almost passed over this company because of it. That’s how much I hate you, Dakota. But then I asked myself, what would Dakota do? She wouldn’t be swayed by emotion. She’d think about the money and not the people involved.”

  The accuracy of his words cut me in a way I hadn’t known possible. I wanted to look away, but the passion in his gaze held me. He wasn’t saying or doing anything I didn’t deserve. The length of his body pressed against mine. A spark of attraction arced between us. That damn undeniable spark. He might hate me, but the hardness against my belly said the physical lust remained.

  “It was a long time ago, Samuel,” I whispered, unable to find my full voice. “Things have changed.”

  “For you, maybe. But not for me.” His gaze dipped to my lips and back to my eyes. “I still remember everything about that day. The way you looked, what you wore, how you smelled.” He leaned forward and scented me in a way that liquefied my bones. “The way you promised to be there when I got home. The way you made love to me the night before like you meant it.”

  He let go of me abruptly as if the touch of my skin scalded his hands. I landed in my chair with a startled oof. Tears prickled behind my eyelids. I remembered everything about that day too. The way he’d smiled at me when he left for work. How I’d stood in the window and watched him leave, knowing it was forever. If only he knew how much I hated myself for what I’d done to him, how I’d cried myself to sleep for a solid six months after leaving him. How I would never forgive myself for hurting him that way.

  “I did mean it. I meant all of it. I never…” I said, but he waved my words away with a sweep of his hand through the air, dismissing me.

  “I’m not interested in your apologies or your excuses.” The arctic cold of his tone sent a shiver down my back. “Not now.” He took a seat on the edge of the desk and clasped his hands in his lap, knuckles white with the strain. “It’s too late for that.”

  “If not an apology, then what do you want from me, Samuel? It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.” I stood and gathered the shreds of my dignity around me, prepared to collect my things from my office and leave.

  “I have made up my mind,” he said. One corner of his mouth twitched in a sadistic smile. My stomach flipped with anxiety. “The job is yours, if you want it.” Dread flooded through me. “Same pay. Same benefits. With a six-month probationary period. I’ll need your decision in the morning.” He returned to his seat behind the desk, his focus turning to the laptop at his elbow. “That’s all, Ms. Atwell.”

  On shaky legs, I forced my feet to move toward the door while my mind tried to wrap around the situation. “Thank you, Sam. I appreciate your willingness to give me a chance in spite of—” I choked on the words. “In spite of everything.”

  “Don’t thank me. If I had my way, you’d be out on your ass, but Ansel made it a condition of the acquisition.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Anger prickled through my veins. He clasped his hands on the desk, a smug curl to the corners of his mouth. “You put me through this—this interrogation just for the hell of it?” I sputtered.

  “Oh, no. I assure you I meant every word of it.” He was toying with me, and judging by his smirk, enjoying it entirely too much. A dozen uncharitable insults bubbled to my lips, most of them containing colorful profanity. If it had been anyone else, anyone but him, I would’ve given him the dressing down of his life. Deep down, I knew I deserved his punishment. I choked back the words and bit my lower lip to hold them in. “Ansel seems to think highly of you. God knows why.” His declaration stung almost as much as his next request. “I’d appreciate it if you called me Mr. Seaforth after this. Only my friends call me Sam. No one knows about our past, and I’d like to keep it that way.” And then he went in for the kill. “You’ll report to me tomorrow morning. You’ll be working directly with me. If I can’t get rid of you, the least I can do is make your life a living hell for the next six months.”

  The door thudded shut behind me. Curious employees stared over cubicle walls. Lifting my chin, I retraced my steps to my office and sank into my chair, shell-shocked. I’d gone into Sam’s office concerned about my future and had come out more fearful than ever. By securing my job, Ansel had locked me into a six-month contract with the devil.

  CHAPTER 4

  Dakota - Then

  THE LIMOUSINE TURNED down a dirt road at the edge of town and stopped beside a forest thick with aged trees and heavy underbrush. An eight-foot chain link fence topped by razor wire—the kind around prisons—contained the woods. Every ten feet or so, a sign declared Private Property—No Trespassing. Whatever this fence contained must be pretty special or dangerous.

  Under normal circumstances, the remote location would have triggered immediate apprehension. A glance at Sam’s face reassured me. Although I didn’t really know him, I knew of him. My mother always spoke highly of him, and he seemed innocuous enough, his wavy hair spilling over his forehead, features relaxed. I patted the prepaid cellphone in my pocket, for emergencies only at my mother’s insistence. Rockwell, the driver, opened the door for us and provided a second source of reassurance. I recognized his face from my visits to the mansion. Our eyes met, and I frowned, fearing he would tell my mother. He gave me a reassuring wink, implying his secrecy.

  “Um, tell me again why we’re out here?” I swept a wary gaze around us. Born and raised in the city, I preferred concrete and steel to the flora and fauna of nature. A mosquito buzzed in my ear, and I waved it away.

  “Come on. You’ll see. It’s really cool.” Samuel headed toward the fence. He pulled a section of chain link away from its supporting post to reveal a slit large enough for us to squeeze through.

  “Aren’t you afraid of trespassing?” I asked.

  He held back the fence with one hand and offered the other to help me pass. “It’s hardly trespassing when your family owns the property. My dad put the signs up. He likes to hunt out here and stocks it with deer and stuff. Sometimes elk. He even had a few wild boar at one time.”

  A branch snapped in the undergrowth a few yards away. “What was that?” I froze and looked apprehensively from side to side, preparing to sprint back to the car. “Aren’t boar dangerous?”

  Laughter transformed his features, and I forgot to be frightened, transfixed by his wide grin, full lips, and perfect white teeth. “There aren’t any here now. That was years ago. He’s too obsessed with running his empire these days to do anything recreational.”

  He hadn’t released my hand since we’d crossed through the fence. His grip tightened around my fingers. The pad of his thumb swept across the back of my hand. Everything south of my tummy clenched at his warm, proprietary touch. Did he hold his girlfriend’s hand like this? Did he even have a girlfriend? I’d never seen him with a girl or heard of him dating anyone from our school. He probably had a supermodel tucked in another city or some heiress from his daddy’s country club.

  “Dakota?”

  I blushed, hoping my face didn’t give away my growing infatuation. He didn’t notice and walked ahead of me, pulling me along the narrow path. We emerged into a circular clearing. Sunlight shafted through the trees, heating my skin. I flattened a hand over my eyes to cut the glare and squeaked in surprise. An abandoned house stood in front of us, surreal and enchanting, brimming with mystery. Ivy clung to the brick walls and climbed the pillars of the porch. The paint had long ago peeled from the wood scrollwork trim, but the bones of the structure remained solid.

  “Wow. What is this place?” I surged toward the house, pulling him with me. The scents of damp earth and azaleas drifted on the air around us, reminders of impending summer.

  “It’s the original Seaforth house. My great-great grandfather built it. When he made his fortune, he left it to my great grandfather, who erected the house I live in now.” Samuel stopped walking to stare up at the three stories of brick in front of us. “They used this one for guests and stuff fo
r awhile, then finally they abandoned it altogether.”

  “Can we go inside?”

  “Sure.” Another one of Sam’s slow smiles warmed me. He took the front steps two at a time, opened the front door, and swept a hand to invite me inside.

  The house was empty and smelled musty. A wide staircase swept through the foyer and curved to the second-floor landing. Remnants of former grandeur lingered among the hardwood floors and plaster cornices. Faded wallpaper peeled from the walls. I trailed a finger over the newel post at the foot of the stairs while Samuel watched from the center of the room. The weight of his gaze followed me as I peered in doors and hallways.

  It wasn’t a big house. The rooms were small, but the ceilings stretched high above our heads, giving the illusion of space. In its day, it must have been a grand place, and I said as much to Samuel.

  “Why would they leave a place like this?” I asked, bewildered by the concept.

  Samuel shrugged. “Too expensive to add plumbing and electricity. And they wanted something bigger. Something to show off their wealth.”

  “Where did your family’s money come from anyway?” I’d heard stories about the Seaforth wealth, tales of coalmines and oil wells.

  “My great-great-great grandfather started out as a blacksmith, but he had bigger ideas. He scraped together some money and bought land. He found coal on one of his properties and opened up a mine, working alongside his employees. He was a self-made man.”

  The pride in his voice lifted him another notch in my esteem. I had a picture in my mind of someone who resembled Sam, sweating over an anvil, clawing out an empire from coal and iron. “That’s pretty impressive. I had no idea.”