“I’m truly sorry that I hurt you. I was young and stupid and I did the wrong thing for the right reasons.” She sighed and studied the pattern on the rug beneath our feet.
“I don’t know about any of that,” I said and returned to arranging my clothes. “I only know what I saw.” A strange pang of hurt throbbed inside my ribs. “Maybe I should go home.”
“No. Please stay for the wedding.” She left the door, crossed the room to stand at my side, and placed a hand on my arm to stop my frantic packing. “I know you don’t like me. You don’t have to. But we need to get along for Sam’s sake. He loves you so much and this thing between us is killing him.”
I inched away from her hand and sat on the edge of the bed. “You hate me.”
“I never hated you.” She sat beside me. “I used to babysit for you sometimes when you were little. You were an adorable little girl. I used to brush your hair and put it up in pigtails. Do you remember?”
Until she mentioned it, I’d forgotten. I’d come along well after Vanessa and Sam. An accident, my mother had called me. My care and upbringing had been left to a dozen nannies. None of them had stayed very long. Their faces and names blurred into anonymity. Mrs. Atwell had volunteered her daughter to watch me from time to time. Dakota had been kind and attentive when no one else acknowledged my existence. The memory flashed past, bright and clear, a vivid picture of her crouched on the floor beside me, face alight with laughter, holding a tiny teacup and pretending to sip my latest imaginary concoction.
“I remember.” My voice quavered. I couldn’t look at her, so I stared out the window at the darkening sky.
She patted my hand and stood to leave. “Please think about staying. I know Sam is angry, but he’ll be crushed if you aren’t here. You’re all the family he’s got left. Don’t throw that away.”
The sadness in her voice added to my distress. I didn’t want to forgive her, but it was hard to ignore her sincere concern for my brother.
An angry, confused tear spilled from the corner of one of my eyes. I swiped it away with the back of my hand. “And he’s all I’ve got,” I whispered, but when I turned around, Dakota had already gone.
Chapter 7
Beckett
THE DOWNSIDE of my career choice was a jaded outlook toward marriage and relationships. I’d seen the best of them fail and the worst of them implode. Nice people got hurt. Bad people triumphed. Poor people got poorer while the rich got richer. Hearts splintered. As a consequence, I vowed never to fall prey to any woman or the big lie called marriage. No, sir. I intended to spend my life in freedom, drinking to excess whenever I felt the urge, watching TV in my underwear, and never spending two nights in the same woman’s arms, as any respectable bachelor should.
With my years of experience came an uncanny ability to predict the length of a marriage. The tiniest shrug of a shoulder or roll of the eyes spoke volumes about a relationship. But as I watched Sam and Dakota exchange vows, I found a lump in my throat and a glimmer of hope. I’d been friends with Sam for the majority of my adult life. We’d struggled together, partied together, succeeded and failed together. I’d witnessed his climb up the ladder of corporate success and his plummet from the pinnacle, only to lift himself up by sheer force of will. Other than myself, no one liked to win more than Sam, yet he was willing to risk it all for this one woman.
For these reasons, I stood beside him on his wedding day, in front of the minister, Dakota at his side. Because that was what best friends did. Through good times and bad, we stuck together. I didn’t know if their marriage would last, but I hoped with all my heart it would. They had a dozen things going against their success, but I wouldn’t be one of them. Venetia, on the other hand, wore a scowl on her face and her heart on her sleeve. The way she put her feelings out there for everyone to see, regardless of judgment, touched my jaded heart. I admired her bravery, her conviction, and her stubbornness. Over Dakota’s shoulder, our gazes collided. A flush of crimson crept up her neck, and she glanced quickly away to focus on the minister.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The reverend said the words in a solemn baritone. “Sam, you may kiss your bride.”
Sam leaned in to claim his new wife. A lump rose in my throat when he turned to walk her down the aisle, followed by a sharp pang of envy. I’d never known a love like theirs; I denied its existence and swore to never fall prey to its clutches. And yet…what if I was wrong? What if, by denying love, I was robbing myself of something mystical or magical?
I felt the pull of Venetia’s gaze and found blue eyes witnessing my internal debate. Her mouth quirked in a smirk. I narrowed my eyes and wiped the emotion from my face. Damn this wedding for making me doubt myself and my beliefs. And damn Venetia for seeing my turmoil. I steeled my jaw and adopted my most intimidating glare. Sam and Dakota joined hands and walked down the aisle. I offered V my arm, and she slipped a hand around my elbow.
“I never took you for a sap,” she whispered. “Is a little of the ice thawing around your heart?”
We fell into step behind the happy couple. The sun hovered low on the horizon. Dozens of lanterns hung from the surrounding trees. Twinkle lights illuminated the garden. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck and into my shirt. Thank goodness it was a casual affair. Sam and I wore shorts and short-sleeved dress shirts. Dakota wore a white sundress. I silently thanked her for insisting on the informal attire.
“Never. It’s too damn hot out here,” I growled, embarrassed at being caught. Tears glimmered in Venetia’s eyes. If I had to guess, I’d say they weren’t the happy kind. In an instant, I forgot my mortification, overcome by the need to soothe her. “What about you? You okay, kiddo?”
She lifted her chin, lips pressed together in a tight line. “Fine,” she said, but I knew it was a lie by the quiver in her voice.
“Dakota, you look beautiful.” We’d reached the newlyweds by this time. I bent and kissed Dakota on the cheek.
She smiled, a tranquil radiance emanating from aquamarine eyes. Venetia’s arm slipped out of mine.
“Thanks, Beckett.” Dakota beamed up at Sam.
“Sam, congratulations.” I shook his hand.
He clapped a palm to my back and pulled me into a one-shouldered man hug. The rest of the group gathered round. There were more tears, more hugs, and more emotion than I could handle. I backed away, eager for a smoke and a few minutes to come to grips with the evening.
I found a shadowed place beneath an oak tree and lit up. From my hiding place, I watched Sam sweep Dakota into his arms and carry her up the steps to the plantation porch. Their laughter carried across the lawn. Rockwell and Mrs. Atwell held hands as they followed them into the house for cake and refreshments. Sydney, Tucker, and Crockett tripped up the stairs in their wake. Venetia trailed a few paces to the rear, barefoot, sandals dangling from the fingertips of her right hand. I was left behind to take in the starless night sky. Alone. The way I liked it.
Chapter 8
Venetia
A STRING quartet played the soft strains of Debussy on the veranda while Sam and Dakota danced. He held her in his arms tenderly and brushed the hair back from her face. The display renewed my frustration. I couldn’t stand by one minute longer and watch his ruin. I’d stayed for the wedding because he needed me and because it was the right thing to do, but now, I saw the truth with sickening finality. My brother had turned onto a new road, one that didn’t include me, one of which I didn’t approve.
“Come and dance with me.” Sydney grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the dance floor.
“It’s a slow song, goofy.” In spite of my churning insides, I smiled at her silliness.
“It’ll be like boarding school.” She blinked large, pleading, puppy dog eyes. We’d gone to an all-girls boarding school and, since there were no boys, had been forced to dance together. The memory brought back a flood of good times. I hesitated, unwilling to celebrate such a sorrowful occasion, to pretend I was anything but heartb
roken. I wanted to be alone.
A light breeze billowed the sheer curtains on either side of the French doors. Candlelight flickered and cast undulating shadows on the walls. Rockwell pulled Mrs. Atwell into his embrace and twirled her in a circle. It seemed everyone had someone, everyone but me.
“Sydney.” Tucker beckoned to my friend with a quirked finger. She lifted her eyebrows, seeking my permission.
I nodded and smiled. “Go on. You know you want to.” I gave her hand a squeeze. “Behave.” Once her back was turned, I slipped into the dark hall with a champagne flute in one hand and a bottle of Dom Perignon in the other. Random, unpleasant thoughts flitted through my mind. I needed time to process, to wrap my head around the day’s events. Why couldn’t I just be happy for Sam? Why couldn’t I get over the ugly mistrust festering inside me?
At the next turn in the hall, I blundered into the library. The scent of old books mingled with leather from the sofas and the sweetness of magnolias outside the open window. The sheer white curtains floated in the breeze like ethereal ghosts. A faint tinkle of music filtered in from the party, along with the night sounds of crickets and frogs. The figure of a man emerged from the shadows of the room.
“Oh.” I stopped short at the unexpected sight of Beckett. His presence caused a frantic beating of my heart.
“I didn’t realize you were in here.” I placed a hand on my chest to try and regain control of my pulse.
“Hiding out?” His deep voice reverberated in the quiet, evoking an electric hum throughout my body.
“No. Not exactly.” I turned to face the window.
“I never took you for a sore loser,” he said.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the sharp angle of his jaw. Moonlight and shadow gave him a devilish glow. I paused and filled my glass to the brim with champagne. The bubbles tickled my throat. I downed the first glass and filled it again.
“I didn’t realize it was a competition.” My fingers tightened around the smooth, cold glass of the champagne bottle, still gripped in my fist.
“You act like it is.” He took the glass from my opposite hand and drank a sip.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped, but the accuracy of his statement knocked me back a mental pace. Why did I feel so bereft, so betrayed over this wedding? Brothers got married every day. In-laws disliked each other. I lifted the champagne and took a drink straight from the bottle while my mother’s ghost chastised my lack of manners.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Beckett took the flute from my hand and set it on the desk then gestured for the bottle. “I think you’ve had enough.”
I pulled it away, out of his reach. “I can’t. Not right now.” Tension wrenched the muscles in my forehead. “I won’t pretend I approve when I don’t. I’m not a hypocrite.” My breath came in short, shallow bursts. Unable to look at him, I faced the fireplace and braced a hand on the arm of the love seat next to me, the velvet upholstery plush against my palm.
Beckett’s gaze drilled into my back. “No one’s asking you to be anyone other than who you are.”
“I’m right,” I said in a voice too high and too thin to be my own. “You know I am.” I felt the heat from his body before I felt the weight of his hands on my shoulders.
He turned me gently until I faced him. “I don’t know any such thing, and neither do you.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said.” His dark eyes sought mine. I stared into their depths, desperate for reassurance. He traced the line of my cheekbone with his fingertips. “And I was out of line to say it.”
“He’s going to ruin his life.”
“Exactly.”
I furrowed my brow, confused by his affirmation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That it’s his life to ruin. His decision. Not yours. You need to butt out.”
An overwhelming urge to flee twitched through my body. I wanted to fling open the window, leap over the sash, and sprint toward the bayou, desperate to lose the gnawing desolation inside me. “If you were me, you wouldn’t stand by and let him do this.” Even to my ears, I sounded whiny and pathetic. “Am I wrong?”
He studied my face. “Yes.”
Heat flashed into my cheeks. His blatant disapproval had me second guessing my outburst to Sam. Had I fucked up with both Beckett and my brother? “What would you do then?”
“I’d suck it up. For Sam’s sake. Forget about Dakota. Sam’s your brother. He needs you. You need each other.” Lines of sympathy softened the sharp angles of his face. “If you don’t support him in this, you’ll lose him, V. Is that what you want?”
“No.” I studied the pink polish on the tips of my toes, the delicate silver straps of my leather sandals, and the cabbage rose pattern of the rug beneath them. I didn’t have to think long to recognize he was right, but I was too stubborn to admit it.
A few seconds later, he moved to stand behind me and tugged me against his chest. The heat of his body warmed my backside. One of his hands smoothed over the curve of my ribs, soothing me. Arousal prickled along my skin. The scent of his cologne, spicy and sweet, tickled my nose.
“I didn’t think so,” he said. The stubble of his chin grazed my temple.
Needing more reassurance, I leaned into him. I couldn’t help it, my body pulled to his by a force beyond my control. Taut muscle formed a solid wall against my back. I closed my eyes and savored every inch of him. I drew in a deeper breath. His hand slid around my waist, fingers spread wide over my belly, and pulled me firmly into him. A tight, aching need unfurled between my thighs. I gripped his pant legs and ground my bottom into his pelvis.
Hot, dry lips brushed over the shell of my ear. “What are you doing to me, Venetia?” His voice cracked in a whisper.
I have no idea, I thought, and dropped my head onto his shoulder. His hands skimmed along my ribs to cup my breasts. Large thumbs flicked over my nipples. They tightened into stiff, painful peaks. “Kiss me,” I said aloud. “You know you want to.” I turned my face to his and pressed our lips together.
Our tongues collided, fingers gripping and bodies melting together. I parted my lips, wanting more, and moaned. His muscles tensed. He pushed away, holding me at an arm’s length. Warning sparked in his eyes.
A wave of crushing rejection bowled over me. “What?”
“No.” He shook his head and backed up until a yard of distance loomed between us.
“Why not?” Was I so unlovable that no one wanted me? Why did everyone push me away?
“I want you, but this isn’t going to happen.” He shook his head again, as if clearing away a mental fog. “We can’t do this. You need to get it through your head. Zero chance, V.”
It was too much, and the thin barrier holding my self-esteem together snapped. “Why? What’s wrong with me?” I took a step toward him, and he countered with another step back. “Just tell me. Am I too tall? Too ugly? Too blond for you?”
“You’re a beautiful girl, V. It’s not that.”
“Just tell me then.”
His chest lifted and fell with a deep breath. “You really want to know?”
Now I wasn’t so sure, but I nodded anyway.
“You’re young and spoiled. You bulldoze over everyone, expecting them to cater to your every wish. You say you’re an adult but you act like a brat. You need to grow up.” Then he did the most humiliating thing I’d ever experienced. He chucked me under the chin like I was a petulant third grader.
A few minutes after midnight, I left the celebration. No one noticed. Sydney and Tucker had disappeared, probably to soothe the itch between them. Beckett, Rockwell, and Crockett lurked in the corner, deep into a heated argument about the latest basketball scandal. Mrs. Atwell had gone to bed early with a headache. Dakota and Sam had gone to their room, eager to be alone and begin their wedding night.
I tapped out a quick text to Sydney.
Me: Heading back to the hotel. Our flight leaves at noon. Don’t be late.
Her: I�
�ll be there. Don’t wait up.
She didn’t explain why, and I tried not to dwell on the reason. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Tucker, because I did. He was an awesome guy, a gentleman, and a loyal friend to Sam. I feared Sydney would break his heart, as she always did. I also didn’t approve of cheating, but who was I to judge? Sydney said what Alex didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. In my experience, it had been true. I’d promised to keep her secret, because I had plenty of my own.
Chapter 9
Beckett
AFTER SAM’S wedding, I returned to work in Laurel Falls with unprecedented gusto. I’d only been in New Orleans for a few days, but it took almost a month to catch up and another two weeks to regain my footing. I didn’t mind. It kept my thoughts off the fact that I’d screwed my best friend’s sister and lost my wingman to the quicksand of marriage. Hard work didn’t lessen any of the guilt festering deep inside my gut. I didn’t like the way Venetia and I had left things. I didn’t like keeping secrets from Sam. And I didn’t like the lingering notion that my life had changed without my consent.
Even after a month and a half, I couldn’t get Venetia out of my subconscious. At night, I had vivid, erotic dreams of her naked body. In these dreams, we had passionate sex in inappropriate places: on the desk in my office, in a parked car, and the bathroom of a local pub, to name a few. The list continued to grow with every passing night. Each morning I awakened with a painful erection and the need for relief. I blamed these fantasies on a lack of sex. I hadn’t been with anyone but V since the wedding. The longest I’d ever gone without was two weeks. If I didn’t get laid soon, I was going to combust.
On the next Tuesday afternoon, six weeks after Sam’s wedding, I punched the elevator call button and entered the car for the ascent to my office. The Law Offices of Daniels, Quaid, Beckett & Associates occupied the upper floor of a downtown skyscraper in Laurel Falls. There were satellite offices in New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. I preferred to spend my time in the most central location, finding it closest to friends and family. Because my friends were my family, as much or more than my actual blood relatives.
Pretty Dirty Secrets: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 3) Page 5
