Pretty Broken Girl

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I’m starting to think it isn’t worth it,” I grumbled.

  His answering snort of satisfaction caused my mouth to snap shut. I tugged at the hem of my dress and shifted toward the window. Billowy white clouds rolled through an azure sky. The buildings became newer and taller. Samuel leaned forward, tapped Rockwell on the shoulder, and murmured something in his ear. Classical music, soft and soothing, poured through the sound system and filled the uncomfortable silence.

  A few minutes later, the car stopped in front of the Seaforth Towers. The contents of my hastily eaten sandwich churned in my stomach. I hadn’t been this close to Maxwell Seaforth in ten years. Just knowing he was near brought back a flood of unpleasant memories. I cast a curious glance at Sam, wondering how he felt about visiting his father’s building. When I’d last known them, their relationship had been fraught with conflict, mainly over me. Judging by the car, Rockwell, and Sam’s financial status, father and son had managed to repair the rift between them. It gave me more satisfaction than I realized, to see Sam living the lifestyle he’d been born into, and to know my absence from his life had been beneficial.

  The twin buildings stretched up, up, and up into the sky. I craned my neck to see the top of them. They were an architectural testament to Seaforth’s success, monuments to his ego. The location was also a marker of MacGruder’s advancement into the big leagues. When I’d worked for them, they resided in a nineteenth century limestone building in Old Towne with intermittent air conditioning and hot water. This building was newly constructed, unconventional, and very impressive. Rockwell came around to open the door. He extended a gloved hand to help me out. I took it, my smile returning at the sight of a friendly face.

  “You look lovely,” he said, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Your mother must be very proud of you.”

  I cringed but found no sarcasm in his expression, nothing but sincerity and warmth. “Thanks, Rockwell,” I said, blushing a little at the compliment. “You look great, too.” I tried to calm my racing pulse. “You didn’t happen to hear any of our conversation, did you?” My eyebrows lifted and my gaze darted to Sam then back to Rockwell.

  “No. I was wearing my earbuds.” He gestured to the wire hanging around his neck, inside the collar of his shirt. “I wanted to give you some privacy. Why?” Rockwell’s brow furrowed.

  “Um, no reason.” I gave him a sunny smile, relief washing over me.

  “If you two are done kissing each other’s ass?” Samuel shrugged into his suit coat, buttoning up the jacket, tugging down the cuffs with tanned fingers. Diamond cufflinks winked in the bright sunlight.

  “Who is this guy?” I asked Rockwell, rolling my eyes. “What happened to him?”

  “You did, Miss,” he replied, his expression sobering.

  CHAPTER 17

  Samuel - Then

  EACH TUESDAY, MY mother held a formal dinner for a few of her intimate friends and business colleagues of my father. I hated those dinners more than a trip to the dentist. The older I became, the less tolerance I possessed for conversations about stock trends, the costliness of summer homes, and legal proceedings. In order to evade an evening of torture, I began to invent homework and after school events, anything to keep me from sitting at that twelve-foot table in a suit and tie with people twice my age.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay?” Mother asked for the third time in the space of ten minutes. She stood in front of her dressing table, sleeking back her hair with a graceful hand. “The Barretts are coming, and they’re bringing Clover. I thought maybe you could entertain her.”

  I suppressed a groan. Clover Barrett was a vain redhead a few years younger than me who always talked in a high-pitched baby’s voice about clothes and nail polish and how many boys asked her out over lunch break. “No. Sorry,” I said. “Vanessa can hang out with her.”

  “You know your sister and Clover don’t get along,” Mother said. I watched her draw a tube of red lipstick over her mouth. Her gaze met mine in the reflection of the mirror. “Are you going to see that Atwell girl?”

  “Her name’s Dakota, Mom,” I said. “Why don’t you ever say her name?”

  “It’s a silly name, don’t you think?” She stood and smoothed her hands over the silk of her brown dress.

  “No sillier than Clover. Who names their kid after a cow?”

  She laughed. The rare sound rewarded me with a flood of warmth. I wondered why she didn’t smile more. Were her days so sad? From the outside, her life looked picture perfect with its circle of friends, social events, and frequent trips to tropical beaches. If she had troubles, she hid them well from me. I’d never seen her raise her voice to anyone or heard my parents argue, but then, my father wasn’t around much.

  “You spend a lot of time with that girl. Your father doesn’t approve. He’ll ground you again if you don’t show tonight.” I watched her move to the jewelry cabinet next to the closet and remove a strand of pearls. She draped it gracefully around her neck. “Help me with the clasp, would you?”

  “He’s been pretty vocal about it,” I admitted as I locked the clasp at the nape of her neck. “You don’t like her either.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like her. She’s very intelligent, and her mother is a dear. I don’t know what I’d do without her. What that woman can do with a pastry is amazing.” She turned to face me and laid a palm against my cheek, her eyes soft and adoring. “I just think you could do so much better, my love. And her brother? Don’t get me started on him. He’s nothing but trouble.”

  “She’s not her brother,” I said, bristling in Dakota’s defense. Mother turned back to the jewelry cabinet and opened a small drawer. “If you got to know her, you might really like her.”

  When she turned to face me once more, she held up a small gold ring between thumb and forefinger. Sunlight slanted through the panes of the balcony French doors and glinted off the smooth polished band. It was thin and plain and unlike the elaborate diamond-and-platinum wedding set she wore.

  “This belonged to your great-great grandmother. She wore it every day until she died.” She took my hand in hers and gently placed the ring in my palm, curling my fingers around it. I stared at my hand, confused. “Don’t get any ideas. You’re much too young for marriage, but your grandmother wanted you to have this.”

  A vague recollection of a thin, straight-backed woman with warm hands and a bright smile seeped into my thoughts. My grandmother had passed away before my fifth birthday, but her name conjured the scent of lilacs and the sound of laughter. I gripped the ring tighter and lifted my gaze to meet Mother’s. The tinge of sadness in her eyes brought a lump to my throat.

  “It was given to her by your grandfather and given to him by his mother. When the time comes, she wanted you to give this to your bride. She said you’d pick a girl who would appreciate it.” She moved past me and toward the door, the silk of her dress rustling with each step. “And any girl who didn’t appreciate it wasn’t worth your time.”

  The door clicked shut behind her. I held the ring up to see it better. The band was narrow, but a small word was inscribed on the inside, too tiny to read in the dim afternoon light. I thought about the abandoned house on the edge of our property and the hard work of my great-great grandfather to build the fortune of my family. He’d bought many more pieces of jewelry for his wife after he’d acquired his wealth. I’d seen my mother wear them for special occasions, ostentatious rubies and emeralds, decadent diamonds, and the pearl necklace she wore tonight. She’d never wear something so plain, but my great-great grandmother had worn this ring to her dying day when she could’ve had any ring she desired. Now, it was mine to give to the girl of my choosing.

  I shoved the ring into the front pocket of my jeans, guarding the precious reminder from the past, and wondered if Dakota might be that girl.

  CHAPTER 18

  Dakota - Now

  LIGHT AND AIR filled the interior of the main Seaforth Tower. Glass walls, steel beams, and black marble gle
amed around us. From the fourth floor, a mezzanine jutted out over the lobby, filled with people clustered around small tables and drinking coffee. The weight of their curious gazes followed us to the bank of elevators. Samuel made a stunning picture in his suit, the navy blue material contrasting with his sun-streaked hair, emphasizing the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips. He ignored the whispers and stares and concentrated his attention on me. He blinked away when my gaze met his. The elevator tinged, and the doors slid open. The heat of his palm on the small of my back felt familiar and exciting.

  Once we boarded the elevator, his touch slid away. He moved to the opposite side of the elevator and resumed thumbing through messages on his phone. When the car stopped at the mezzanine floor, the doors slid open, and Jared MacGruder stepped inside. Samuel continued fiddling through his phone, but I felt the weight of his attention on us.

  “Dakota? Is that really you?” Before I could react, Jared pulled me into a hug and dropped a kiss on my cheek, his hand lingering a little too long on my waist.

  “Jared. It’s been ages. How are you?” I pulled away, a genuine smile on my lips, and tried to ignore Samuel. He’d put away his phone and was now staring pointedly at us.

  Jared straightened, looked me over from head to toe, and gave a whistle. “Were you always this hot, or have I just forgotten?”

  I laughed and shook my head. Despite his irresponsible ways, Jared exuded boyish charm and playful charisma. He wore skinny blue jeans and a long-sleeved green T-shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Although he was a nice-looking guy, his casual dress came off sloppy and forgettable next to Sam’s power suit.

  “We’re here to meet with your father,” Samuel said.

  Jared’s head snapped to Samuel, realizing there was someone else in the elevator.

  “Jared, this is Samuel Seaforth.”

  The two men eyed each other. Animosity crackled between them.

  “We’ve met,” Jared said after a beat. “Are you working for him now?” He jerked his chin in Sam’s direction.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “On a trial basis,” Samuel replied. His gaze flicked from me to Jared and back again.

  “What’s your old man say about that?” Jared asked, a confrontational glitter in his eyes.

  “My father doesn’t run my life,” Samuel replied.

  An angry flush spread up Jared’s fair complexion.

  The tension in the confined space made my stomach twitter in an unpleasant way. When the elevator stopped at the fiftieth floor, I exhaled in relief and stepped into the hall. Jared lingered at my side, while Samuel glared at us.

  “Well, it was great seeing you.” Jared dropped a second kiss on my cheek, his hand finding my elbow. He pulled back and smiled. “I don’t suppose you’d give me your number?”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed, cold and assessing, waiting for my answer.

  “No, I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Are you seeing someone?” Jared asked, lifting an eyebrow. He cast a curious sideways glance at Sam. “I didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes.”

  “Oh, we’re not together,” I said quickly. There was no one and hadn’t been for a very long time.

  “Then how about Saturday night?” He gave me another smile. I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I just wasn’t interested in guys like Jared—smooth, reckless, and unfocused. In fact, I’d rather spend the evening alone than in the company of a man who didn’t hold my fancy or my respect.

  “I really don’t have the time for dating,” I said. “But thank you for the invitation.”

  “Well, your loss I suppose.” He laughed, unconcerned by my rejection, and touched my elbow again. “Good to see you, Kota.” He nodded to Samuel. “Seaforth.”

  Once Jared turned his back to us, I frowned at Samuel. “You already know him? Why the inquisition then?”

  He shrugged and took my arm, leading me toward a set of double doors. “We met at a polo match once.”

  “Polo?” I lifted an eyebrow. It sounded so atypical for the guy I remembered. “Did you have Grey Poupon while you were there?”

  To my surprise, his lips curved in a reluctant smile. “That was pretty cold, Atwell. You probably bruised his ego beyond repair.” Mischief danced in Sam’s eyes.

  “I don’t see the point in pretending I’m interested when I’m not,” I said, shrugging. “Life is too short for those kind of complications.”

  Sam turned to regard me before he pushed open the double doors. Brilliant light erupted. A long sky bridge stretched in front of us, a corridor of glass stretching between the two towers. Even the floor was glass. I came to an abrupt stop, my heart jumping in my chest like a frightened rabbit. Samuel, unaware I’d stopped, continued on another half-dozen steps before he realized I wasn’t beside him.

  “What?” The question died on his lips. He took a hard look at my face.

  I felt the blood drain out of my head. Small black dots danced in my vision. I put a hand on the wall and took a step backward.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.” I shook my head, focus glued to the transparent floor in front of us and the tiny people moving along the street below. The moisture evaporated from my mouth. I glanced up to his face, desperate for reassurance.

  The hardness in his gaze softened. He held out his hand, palm up. “Still scared of heights, huh?”

  I nodded and tried to swallow. “I do okay most of the time, but that?” I pointed at the traffic rushing along the street below like toy cars. “That’s just scary.” I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

  “You’re not budging, are you?”

  “No.” I heard his deep sigh of exasperation, followed by a sound that might’ve been a chuckle. I cracked my eyelids, careful to avoid looking at the sky bridge behind him. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Yes.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. “So what are we going to do? Do you want me to carry you?”

  When he took a step toward me, my eyes flew open wide. He laughed, and I gave him a playful smack on the arm. “Stop it. It’s not funny.” I placed a hand on my tummy to quell the unrest there. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

  “Dakota.” The way his voice rasped over my name made me forget the plummeting heights behind him. He extended his hand again and jerked his fingers, beckoning me to accept his grasp. “You trusted me once.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “I promise it’ll be fine,” he said softly. Layers of intimacy enriched his words. “I won’t fuck with you. Not over this.”

  Our eyes met. Pleasant warmth replaced the nervous anxiety inside me. Familiar flecks of brown dotted his irises. This was my Samuel, the one I remembered, the one I’d loved. I slid my hand into his. Strong fingers curled around mine.

  “Don’t look down. Look at me.” He stood in front of me, blocking my view of everything but his eyes, his face. He took a step backward, drawing me with him. “Just like old times, right?” I swallowed and nodded and took another step. “Remember your brother’s treehouse? I got you up there and you couldn’t get down?” His lips curved, revealing the delicious dimples on either side. “It took me hours to convince you to climb up there. You didn’t want to but you did it anyway. To please me.” I smiled, remembering as he walked me back through time and across the sky bridge simultaneously. “Brave girl.”

  “You said you’d never been in a treehouse and you wanted to go up there so badly. I couldn’t say no.” The depths of his eyes swirled with nostalgia and something more—heat, maybe? A flutter rocked my heart. “I could never say no to you.”

  “Do you remember what we did up there?” Mischief joined the remembrance in his gaze. He was distracting me, forcing me to think about anything other than the scary drop beneath our feet. I played along.

  “You know I do.” I nodded and bit my lower lip. We’d made love up there with the sun setting in the west, the twitter of birds and the rust
le of wind through the leaves surrounding us. It had been perfect and sweet and romantic. Like him.

  “I thought we were going to have to call the fire department to get you down,” he said, laughter shaking his shoulders. He disconnected his gaze from mine and released my hands when his back hit the door. “There. You made it.”

  He turned to walk down the hall, and the magnitude of what I’d destroyed hit me like a grand piano dropped from a third-story rooftop. He’d been my everything, my rock, my biggest supporter. I’d thrown it all away, and for what? I still had my brother, but he was on a downward spiral. The money had been spent long ago, and I’d lost something money could never purchase—my self-respect.

  CHAPTER 19

  Dakota - Then

  SINCE MY TRYST with Sam, I’d been banned from the Seaforth house. To make up for the loss of income, I worked at the corner convenience store for a few hours once or twice a week. It was pleasant if boring work, running the register and restocking shelves.

  Sam and I continued to see each other by stealth. He’d drop me off at the store after school and pick me up at the end of my shift. Rumors swirled around us, but we didn’t care. We were in love, and it was no one’s business but our own. We were too young and too stupid to know it could never work between us.

  I should’ve known we were on a path of destruction when Mr. Seaforth showed up at the convenience store one night a few weeks before senior graduation. I was sitting outside the store, waiting for Sam to pick me up, when Mr. Seaforth’s white Bentley pulled to the curb. He rolled down the window, summoning me to him. I cast a wary glance over my shoulder, suddenly uneasy.

  “Sam isn’t coming,” he said. The ominous tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “He’s grounded for disobeying me once again.” The utter disgust in his voice chased away my unease, replacing it with anger on Sam’s behalf. “He said you’d be waiting for him and he was worried. I’ll take you home.”