Pretty Filthy Lies: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  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

  EPILOGUE

  Before You Go

  Books on Amazon

  Copyright

  Author Biography

  Looking for more?

  Intoxicated

  Chapter 1

  Dakota

  A MIX of excitement and trepidation stirred butterflies to flight in my stomach as I stood on the sidewalk in front of Infinity Enterprises. I blamed the internal fluttering on the hot sex I’d just had in the limousine and the thought of a fresh beginning in a life fraught with tragic endings. The man at my side was an integral part of my anxiety. Samuel Seaforth, corporate predator and ruthless businessman, was the most complicated, infuriating male I’d ever met. He was also my boss and my ex-husband.

  I cast a glance at him, tall, cool, and imposing in a charcoal suit jacket over a crisp white dress shirt and black trousers. Overcome with shyness, I fought the blush threatening to color my cheeks at the way he’d ravaged my body, the way he’d touched me, claimed me. He still wanted me, in spite of my epic flaws, poor decisions, and our painful history. Ten years ago, I’d broken his heart and betrayed us both. The game had changed this morning. He hadn’t made any promises, hadn’t said he loved me, but he had said he was willing to try. I needed a miracle in my life, and this was it.

  We stood in front of a resplendent, three-story, Greek revival mansion. I hesitated, momentarily overwhelmed by the brilliant white columns lining the front and sides. The residence had been transformed into offices, but traces of its past life lingered in the meticulous gardens and the outbuildings beyond. Had Sam done the renovation? As teenagers, he’d been consumed with architecture and revitalizing old buildings. Did that desire still linger, to restore beauty to forgotten and neglected things? This glimmer of the boy from my past pleased me.

  Green eyes met mine. My knees dissolved at the memory of his big hands up my skirt. The wind surged and ruffled his blond hair. He shoved a distracted hand through it, cell phone always at his ear.

  “Dakota? Today, please.” He jerked his chin toward the entrance before continuing the conversation with one of his minions. Whatever intimacy we’d shared in the car dissipated. My forehead tightened in a frown. He scowled back and barked into the phone. “Did I ask for you to forward those reports? No. I didn’t. It’s not what I wanted. If you’d listened to my instructions, you would have known that. You’ll have to call Mr. Takashima and apologize for the error.”

  So demanding, my Samuel. Good thing he was hot. Otherwise, he’d just be an irritating ass. His hand rested on the curve of my hip, urging me forward. A thrill zinged along my side, radiating from his touch. Still high from the sex, I passed through the double entrance doors and wide foyer, conscious of his gaze on my backside. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead. I trailed fingertips over the smooth polished bannister of the sweeping staircase, climbing upward.

  Voices and laughter floated down to us. At the top of the steps, Sam opened a set of French doors into what must have once been a ballroom but now contained a series of office cubicles. Muted tones of gray and gold covered the walls and furnishings, anchored by black details. Classic, understated, elegant. Sam’s taste touched every element.

  A woman rushed forward, pen and paper in hand, a worried frown on her middle-aged features. Silence replaced the laughter, followed by the sound of scurrying footsteps. Sam swept an assessing gaze around the room. The woman fell into step with us. She was petite and well groomed, wearing a pink blazer and skirt, the picture of conservative good taste.

  “Mr. Seaforth, I’m so sorry. We weren’t expecting you,” she stammered.

  “Obviously,” he said.

  “Can I get you or your guest anything?”

  It took a second before I realized she meant me. I lifted an eyebrow at Samuel. Apparently, he hadn’t informed his staff I was coming onboard.

  “Mrs. Cantrell, this is Ms. Atwell. She’s not my guest.” He unbuttoned his jacket and continued pacing toward the end of the room. The woman trotted beside us in tiny, furious steps, heels clicking on the polished hardwood. “She’ll be acting as a consultant on the MacGruder acquisition. Get her an office and anything else she needs.”

  He stopped at the end of the room. The heavy walnut door in front of us bore a brass plaque with Samuel Seaforth, C.E.O. engraved upon it in elegant script. He opened it and stepped aside to let me enter. The room boasted coffered ceilings, burled walnut paneling, and intricate plaster moldings. The biggest mirror I’d ever seen, gilt-framed and ostentatious, spanned the wall beside his desk. Beyond the lead-paned windows, a profusion of colorful flowers brightened an emerald green lawn.

  “You’ve got a ton of messages,” Mrs. Cantrell said. “Mr. Takashima called twice.”

  “I’ve already spoken with him.” Sam shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on a hanger inside the closet near the door. “Anything else?”

  “Mr. MacGruder called too, and—” She hesitated, blinking hazel eyes from Sam to me and back again. “Your father called. He said it was important.”

  At the mention of Maxwell Seaforth, a chill swept through the room in spite of the warm sun outside the tall windows. Every time I heard his name, unpleasant memories wrenched my insides. I couldn’t separate my former father-in-law from the most devastating mistake I’d ever made. We would forever be entangled—me, Mr. Seaforth, and Sam.

  Sam’s jaw flexed and his broad shoulders went rigid beneath his starched dress shirt, where my hands had been less than fifteen minutes earlier inside his limousine.

  “Did he say what he wanted?” His voice carried an undercurrent of tension.

  “No. Only that it was imperative you call him back.” Her face fell, marred with lines of distress. “I’m sorry. I should have insisted on more information.”

  “It’s okay.” He took a seat in the luxurious leather chair behind an expansive desk and powered on his desktop computer. “That’s all, Mrs. Cantrell.”

  The door closed behind her with a muted click. I stood in front of his desk and shifted from foot to foot. Sam leaned back in his chair and regarded me in silence for so long that my palms began to sweat. I lifted my chin, stared back, and refused to let him see my uncertainty. What lurked behind those beautiful irises? I had so many unanswered questions, but he seemed unwilling to offer any answers.

  “Do you have something for me to do, or are you just going to let me stand here all day?” I asked, impatience getting the best of me. “It seems like a waste of salary, but it’s your money, I guess.”

  His full mouth t
witched with the faintest of smiles. “Standing there is nice.” The way his gaze roved over my lips and eyes had my toes curling inside my shoes. His voice lowered to a deep growl. “Naked would be better.”

  Desire prickled over my skin at the wanton undercurrent in his words. “What would Mrs. Cantrell say?” I liked seeing him this way, knowing he wanted me.

  “She’d be shocked.”

  We shared a smile. A hundred new questions raced through my mind. Why had he changed his mind? Why was he giving us another chance? Or was this simply nostalgia and temporary? The niggling insecurities tempered my euphoria.

  “You don’t need me here, Sam. You’ve got a huge staff to help you,” I said in a low, quiet voice. “Why am I really here?”

  “I do need you. For reasons I’d rather not go into right now.” He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled in front of him. “There are things you don’t know. The game has changed.” Fire sparked in his eyes, a predatory gleam mixed with the sunlight from the windows. “Go ahead and take a seat.” He nodded at the leather chair in front of his desk. “Before we dive in, we need to get a few ground rules in place.”

  “Okay.” I licked my lips, mouth gone dry. His ominous tone erased my optimism and replaced it with apprehension. I lifted a hand to my neck, searching for the gold chain holding my wedding ring as I always did when I was nervous, and found nothing. My hand dropped to my side. I’d searched my apartment up and down for it to no avail.

  “What happened in the limo, it was—” The line of his jaw tightened, and his voice trailed away. “I don’t want to lead you on or give you false hope for something more, because I’m not ready for that.” A knot began to tighten in my gut. All my shiny new hopes plummeted to the floor. “I want to trust you, but I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.” I stared at my toes and tried to hide my disappointment. “You have to earn it back.”

  “I understand.” I forced neutrality into my tone when I wanted to groan in despair. He came around to the front of the desk and sat on the edge, his spread knees on either side of mine. The gravity of his gaze renewed the guilt over everything I’d done, all the ways I’d betrayed his trust, our love. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” I let my focus drop to my lap where my clasped hands rested, knuckles white with tension.

  He tipped my chin up with his index finger until our eyes met. “What you did, coming to me with the contract and the check, it took guts. I respect that. It made me think there might be a chance for us.” His lips twitched in the tiniest of smiles, sending my heart into an erratic dance. He brushed the pad of his thumb along the seam of my mouth. “Don’t disappoint me, Dakota.”

  “I won’t,” I whispered. All I wanted was an opportunity to make things right, to prove how much I loved him, to repair all the damage I’d done.

  “Mr. Seaforth? You have a call on line four. Alessandro Reyes.” Mrs. Cantrell’s disembodied voice came over the intercom. He stood and returned to his chair, widening the distance between us. “Do you want me to take a message?”

  “No. I’ll take it. Give me a minute.” He waited for her to disconnect before he spoke to me again. “Are we good here, Dakota?”

  “Yes, we’re good.” Did I have any other choice? Once again, he held all the cards in our game of love and wits. My only chance for reconciliation rested in rebuilding the foundation of our relationship, the one I’d obliterated with my betrayal. Hope unfurled inside me once again, and I picked up the challenge Samuel offered. I liked to win, and no matter how long it took, I would make this right.

  Chapter 2

  Sam

  I FOUND it hard to concentrate on work, knowing Dakota was under the same roof. The hour hand circled the clock on my desk while I moved through conference calls and meetings, ticking away the time until I could see her again. The past few weeks had been hell without her. I wanted so desperately to believe in her, to think we might be able to make a go of things, but I wasn’t optimistic. Once upon a time, I’d had lofty dreams of picket fences and a cozy house filled with kids. But that had been before. Before Dakota’s betrayal, before our divorce, before my father had become my enemy. Since then, my feet were rooted firmly on the ground, where they belonged. Life had taught me a few things. First and foremost? People didn’t change.

  The intercom buzzed, bringing me back to the present. “Your father is on line six,” Mrs. Cantrell announced.

  “Give him voice mail,” I replied without hesitation. “Or take a message.” My father was the primary source of my black outlook. Maxwell Seaforth was a cold-hearted, unforgiving tyrant who reveled in making others miserable for his personal entertainment.

  “He’s requesting a meeting.”

  “Pencil him in about fifteen minutes after hell freezes over.” I turned my chair to face the window and gazed over the serenity of the garden below. The man never gave up. It was something father and son had in common. After what he’d done to Dakota, to me, to my mother, the way he’d made our lives miserable—I could never forgive him. I would spend the rest of my life making him atone for all the lies he’d told me. The pencil in my hand snapped in two as I thought of him.

  A quick knock at the door preceded Beckett’s entry. My best friend strode into the room, filling it with his tall, athletic frame. I swept the remnants of the pencil into the trashcan beside my desk while he eased into the chair across from me. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and clasped his hands on his lap.

  “Good morning, counselor,” I said.

  “What’s up?” he asked. His knee bounced with excess energy. “Are we on for drinks tonight?”

  “Not tonight.” I lowered my eyes to the report in front of me and smoothed a hand over it.

  “Why not?” he asked with the same tone he used to cross-examine a witness on the stand. I knew from experience to keep my answers short and non-committal to prevent arousing his curiosity in matters I hoped to keep private.

  “Busy.” Becks was an all-around good guy, but sometimes he annoyed the hell out of me. He had a successful law practice and acted as chairman of the board at Infinity. It was a figurehead position, allowing me to control the direction of the business. I needed someone at the head of the company, someone I trusted, and Becks fit the bill. Not only was he a kick-ass divorce attorney, he was also shrewd and intelligent.

  “Doing what?” He shifted in the chair, blue eyes blazing with interest. “Hot date?”

  “No.” I kept my gaze trained on the document, determined to remain stoic. “Business.” Although he was a serial player himself, Becks had an infuriating fascination with my dedication to promiscuity. He dreamed about the day some girl claimed my heart and sent my self-control into a tailspin.

  “Alright. Whatever. But I’m starting to worry about you, man. You’ve been in a funk for weeks now.”

  “I’m good.” Relief washed over me as he stood and strode back to the door.

  He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Who’s the skirt?” he asked, posing the question I’d been dreading. “Sexy chick? Brown hair?”

  “That would be Ms. Atwell.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Ms. Atwell?” I sensed the cogs turning in his head as he put two and two together. A slow, incredulous smile spread over his face. “Your ex? Holy shit. Are you kidding me?”

  Up to this moment, I’d been able to keep Dakota a secret from my friends. As far as they knew, she’d been a tragedy of my past and a blip on the radar of my present. Judging by the look on his face, he was thrilled by the complications presented by this turn of events.

  “Is she the reason you’re busy tonight?” His eyes lit with excitement. “Are you boning your ex-wife?”

  “Don’t start.” I held up a hand to stop the teasing I knew was forthcoming. “She’s here as a consultant. That’s it.”

  “I thought you hated her. Or is this all a part of your wicked plan for retribution?” To my disappointment, he released the door and turned back to me. I groaned and s
teeled for the inquisition. “To make her pay?” He tapped a finger to his lips, feigning contemplation. “So you sleep with her, make her trust you, then bam, you jerk the rug from underneath her. Right?”

  “You think I would do that?” Spoken aloud, the vendetta sounded cruel and pathetic, even for me. It was, however, pretty close to my original plan, before I’d known the truth about my father’s part in Dakota’s defection. Before I’d realized how much I missed her.

  “You’re a Seaforth. I think you’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want.” Beck’s gaze met mine, challenging.

  I twisted in my chair, uncomfortable under his all-too-knowing scrutiny. “Right. That’s me. Take no prisoners.” Was this the way everyone saw me? I swallowed down the sour taste in my mouth. It was one thing to overtake and disseminate a business, something entirely different to destroy a person. But that was what I did. Businesses were composed of people, and I annihilated businesses. I passed a hand across my brow, confused by the blurred lines of my morality.

  “You are one ruthless son of a bitch.” Becks clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Did I ever tell you that?”

  I smiled halfheartedly and rose to walk him to the door. “Thanks.”

  “This Dakota, she must’ve really done a number on you.” Emotion clouded his features as he regarded me. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Sam.”

  An arrogance I didn’t feel buoyed my reply. “Are you doubting me?”

  “Hell no. You’re my freaking idol, man.” The tension in the room eased a little. “I’m just throwing this out there, so feel free to ignore it if you want. But I’ve seen you crush men without a backward glance. You’ve left dozens of women in your dust. So why are you hung up on ruining a girl who’s already lost the game? It makes me wonder if you still have feelings for her.”

  “She means nothing to me,” I said and opened the door. The moment the words left my lips, I cringed inside, recognizing the lie. It hung on the air between us, stagnant and accusing. I could tell myself she meant nothing, that her presence was only temporary, but saying the words aloud made me realize the truth. I wanted more. I wanted to believe in her. I wanted to make this permanent.