Beauty in the Broken: A Diamond Magnate Novel

by Charmaine Pauls

  “Have a nice day, Lina.”

  When he finally frees me, I flee from his office, bumping into Anne on the landing.

  “Sorry,” she says, flushing a little.

  “Did you eavesdrop?”

  “I couldn’t help but overhear. You guys should really learn to close the doors.”

  I would if I could, and Damian is appeasing me without once having said anything about my phobia of being locked in.

  “I don’t get you,” Anne says. “Damian will buy you anything your heart desires, and you carry on about not having spending rights.”

  “You won’t understand until you’re in my position.”

  “All I understand is that you’re one lucky lady.”

  I’ll let her think that.

  “Mrs. Hart,” Russell says from downstairs. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  “Excuse me.” I push past Anne and make my way downstairs to where the landscaper is waiting, but Zane gets there before me.

  “Who’s this?” Zane asks, blocking my way.

  The landscaper looks between us.

  “None of your business, Zane.”

  He doesn’t budge. “Dami will want to know.”

  “He will. Now move.”

  “You heard her,” Russell says.

  In that moment, I forgive Russell for his lingering coldness toward me.

  Zane steps aside with sparks flashing from his eyes.

  “Shall I show you the garden?” I don’t wait for the baffled landscaper’s reply. I shove him out of the door, eager to escape the tension in the house.

  He scratches the back of his neck and takes in the well-maintained garden. “What exactly is it you want?”

  “We have a colony of bats.”

  “I’m aware. My friend installed the boxes. I’m still not sure why you think you need me.”

  “They’ll need an ecosystem to survive.”

  He looks at me with surprise. “In the long term, yes.”

  “That’s why you’re here. I want you to turn the garden into an ecosystem.”

  “Whoa. That’s going to cost a small fortune.”

  “Does it look like I can’t afford it?” Technically, Damian’s money will pay for it. I don’t like it, but I don’t have a choice. Some of those ill-accumulated funds may as well be put to good use.

  The landscaper’s gaze flitters to the house and back to me. I know what he sees—huge mansion, expensive cars, personal guards.

  “Before you get too excited,” I say, “I’ll need a quote.” I don’t say my husband will have to approve it. Hasn’t Damian just told me I only have to ask?

  “Right.” He turns in a full circle, taking in the vast, green lawn that stretches to the fences in the distance. “That goes without saying.”

  “Good. When can I have it?”

  He chuckles. “You don’t beat around the bush.”

  I’m aware of Russell’s eyes burning on me when I say, “Life’s too short.”

  “If you want a self-sustained environment, the non-indigenous shrubs and ornamental trees will have to be replaced with Highveld grass and a rock garden.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  “It’ll be green in summer, but dry in winter.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m just saying you won’t always have a green garden.”

  “As you said, that goes without saying.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s take the tour.”

  We walk around the property with him naming plants and me nodding. If he finds it odd that Russell follows, he doesn’t say anything.

  After the full tour and having taken notes on his smartphone, he leaves with a promise to have a proposal and quotation in a week’s time. It’s fast for the amount of work involved, but money always gets you to the top of the priority list. The project is big enough to guarantee a huge profit.

  It’s afternoon when I venture back into the garden to take pictures with my phone for the visual board I’m planning. Despite my situation, I’m becoming excited about the project. I’ve even told Russell, who tags along, a little about it. I’m next to the rose garden when Zane intercepts us.

  Propping his hands on his hips, he blocks my path. “What was the meeting this morning about?”

  “Nothing that concerns you.”

  He presses a thumb on his breastbone. “I run these grounds.”

  “Less work for you then, I guess.”

  “Spit it out, Lina. Now.”

  “It’s Mrs. Hart,” Russell says, “and you’re in her way.”

  Zane turns to Russell. “What did you say to me?”

  Zane is a big, muscled man. A hunch tells me he knows how to fight dirty. I don’t want a fight between Russell and Zane because of me. From the corner of my eye, I see Andries pausing with his foot on the garden fork where he’s overturning the soil to glare at us.

  “It’s all right, Russell,” I say.

  Russell is only doing his job, which I assume is protecting as well as guarding me from running away, but Zane won’t see it like this. Zane will hate me more for what he’ll perceive as Russell’s loyalty.

  “What are you hiding?” Zane asks. “Why the secret meeting?”

  I keep my voice placating. “It was hardly secret.”

  The reason I don’t want Zane to know until I’ve already convinced Damian is because he’ll oppose anything I suggest out of principle.

  Andries shuffles closer, the fork clutched in his hand. “Then you won’t mind telling us.”

  I sigh. It looks as if I have more than just Damian to convince. “There are bats on the property.”

  “I’ll take care of them,” the old man says. “Burn the nest.”

  “No,” I cry in horror. “They’re protected.”

  Zane gives me a suspicious look. “Is that why the man was here? To rehabilitate them?”

  “There are also owls and hawks close-by.”

  “I’ve spotted some owls on the east side of the property,” Russell says.

  “Get to the point,” the old man says with a scowl.

  “I want to give them back their natural habitat.”

  Zane stares at me as if I deserve my crazy label. “What?”

  “I want to convert the garden into a self-sustained ecosystem.”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Zane exclaims.

  “Why? A natural garden can also be pretty.”

  “I have quotes for a new fucking irrigation system,” Zane hisses, “and this is what you do? Sneak behind my back with your animal activist ideas?”

  “It’s not an animal activist idea.”

  Russell raises his hand in warning. “Calm down and watch your mouth, Zane.”

  “Zane is right,” Andries says, pointing a finger in my face. “You’ll take the food out of my mouth.”

  “I’m not trying to chase you away,” I say. “The garden will still require work.”

  “Not a fucking self-sustained, ecosystem,” Zane shouts.

  “I won’t tell you again—” Russell starts, but before he can finish his sentence, Andries charges.

  He shoves me hard, making me lose my balance. I fall down on my ass, catching myself on my hands. Russell jumps toward the old man, and Anne screams something as she comes charging from the house, but I tune them out. All I’m aware of is the sharp teeth of the garden fork Andries presses on my chest.

  Chapter 12

  Damian

  There’s a commotion in the garden when I get back to the house from buying Lina’s tampons. Andries, Zane, Russell, and Lina are all outside. It looks as if Andries is about to attack Lina. The old man is waving his finger in her face while everyone speaks at once, everyone except Lina. She stands quietly in the center of the fight.

  I’m out of the car and almost there when the crazy old man jumps. With a shove, he pushes Lina to the ground. Fuck. I drop my parcel and sprint. He lifts the garden fork he’s clutching in one hand over Lina’s chest. Anne screams from
somewhere behind me. Before I can make it to them, Andries pins the spikes of the fork to Lina’s body, right on her heart. I scream for Russell, but he’s already drawn his gun. As the barrel indents Andries’ temple, the old man freezes. I push Anne, who arrives at the same time as me, out of the way in my rush to reach them.

  Zane lifts his hands. “Dami, don’t.”

  I’m shaking. I should order the fucker shot. The threat on Lina’s life warrants it. Zane knows that. It’s having Andries’ brains blown all over Lina that prevents me.

  “Dami, please. Nothing happened.”

  “Put down the fork, Andries,” I say in a steady but don’t-fuck-with-me voice.

  His fingers tighten around the shaft.

  “Andries.” I edge closer, slowly. “Put down the fork and no one will get hurt.”

  Russell is ready to pull the trigger.

  “Pops,” Zane says. “Do as Dami says.”

  “Pops, please,” Anne adds in a tremulous voice.

  Andries is half-senile, but he must’ve realized what his actions would cost him. After another tense second, he relaxes his grip on the fork. I waste no time in disarming him. Only when the fork is securely in Zane’s hands do I dare to speak again.

  “Get him out of my sight,” I say through clenched teeth. God knows what I’ll do to him if he lingers in my presence.

  “Dami—”

  “I said out of my goddamn sight!”

  Zane jumps.

  Anne takes Andries’ arm. “Come on, Pops.”

  I address Zane. Andries doesn’t exist to me any longer. “I want him and his things off my property. You have an hour.”

  This time, Zane knows better than to argue. He follows Anne quietly toward the garden cottage where Andries lives. Russell flips back the safety and holsters his gun.

  Too shaken to speak, I hold out a hand for Lina. She allows me to pull her to her feet, trembling under my palms. Her face is whiter than the clouds in the sky. Gripping her shoulders, I drag my gaze over her. She’s covered in dust, but there’s no blood. Andries didn’t break skin.

  Wordlessly, I steer her away. I retrieve the parcel where I dropped it before bringing her to my study where I pour us each a drink. After she’s downed her whisky, I pull her into my arms.

  “Fuck, Lina.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  She’s sorry? “What the hell happened?”

  “I want to change the garden.”

  “That caused Andries’ reaction?” I ask in disbelief.

  “I want to change it to an ecosystem.”

  “Why?”

  “For the bats.”

  “For the bats.” The fucking bats could’ve cost her life.

  “Andries thought he’d lose his job if we do away with the cultured garden.”

  I take a swallow of the liquor in my glass. Not all the alcohol in the world is enough to calm my nerves. “He’s lost it now.”

  “Where will he go?”

  “Not my problem.”

  “How will he live?”

  “Not your problem.”

  “Damian,” she says with reprimand.

  “Stop worrying. Zane earns enough to take care of him. After what happened, I don’t want him on the property.” I leave my empty glass on the liquor tray and catch her shoulders between my hands. “You’re still trembling.”

  “I’ve had a fright.”

  I bloody well bet. “Why didn’t you tell me about your plans?”

  She steps away from my touch. “I just met someone for a quote this morning. I didn’t want to tell you until I had costs.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “Are you angry?”

  Am I angry? I’m fucking livid. I saw her life being threatened and felt mine cyphering away at the terrifying notion of losing her. She makes me weak, and she doesn’t even know it. “Not with you.”

  She bites her lip as she studies me for a moment before asking, “May I go, then?”

  Never. I want to make her straddle my face and eat her out just to feel how alive she is. Then I want to make her take my cock in her mouth again, but her throat must still be raw. Besides, she’s as badly shaken as what I am, even if she’s not showing it. My girl is strong, much stronger than I ever imagined, and it doesn’t make sense. She’s not the weak, crazy person Dalton’s doctors made her out to be. The more I get to know Lina, the less the medical reports make sense.

  It’s not a subject I’d normally breach unprepared and without warning, but maybe because I could’ve lost her so easily, I throw it at her. “Tell me about your time at Willowbrook.”

  Her face goes blank. It’s like a portrait that changes from reserved to closed-off right in front of me.

  Her voice is steady and strong. Nothing in her tone gives away any tension, but the sudden dullness of her eyes, as if she’s disconnected herself from the moment, betrays her. “I don’t talk about that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s in the past. There’s nothing to say.”

  She jumped from a window. She went on a hunger strike. There must be plenty to say. From what’s been written in the media, Dalton and Clarke doted on her. The men in her life treated her like a princess. Why would a princess lock herself up in a tower, only to mutilate herself and try to take her own life?

  “I’d like to go now,” she whispers.

  I prefer to hold her, to smother her until I feel calmer, but she’s suffered enough for one day. With a small nod, I hand her the parcel. She grabs it and all but flees from the room. She’s barely gone when Zane enters.

  “He’s gone,” he says. “Anne is driving him to a hotel.”

  For the first time, my tone is hostile with Zane. “That was quick.”

  “There wasn’t much to pack.”

  “He belongs in a retirement home where he can be watched twenty-four seven, not in a hotel.”

  “We’re looking into it.”

  “I hope for his sake Anne is staying with him.” Not that Andries is my concern, any longer.

  “About what happened—”

  “If it happens again, you’re as dead as the person threatening Lina. I’m holding you responsible.”

  “You said you wouldn’t allow this.”

  “Allow what?”

  “For her to come between us.”

  “She’s my wife. I’ve asked you before, and I’m going to ask you again. This time think carefully before you answer. Do you have a problem with Lina being my wife?”

  “You’re pussy-whacked.”

  Choosing to ignore that, I repeat, “Do you have a problem with Lina being my wife?”

  “Everything I do, I do out of respect for you. Friendship. Loyalty. The fresh flowers in the entrance every day… Do you ever thank me? Do you ever notice? Do you see the hours I’m putting into running this house, the effort I’m making with the garden? Do you? No. All you notice is your new toy, your wife, and she’s making you blind, because you don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

  Swinging back my arm, I take a punch at his face. The blow falls on his cheek, making him stumble a step. He’s good with his fists. I want him to give me a fight. I need this to blow off steam, but he only stands there, knowing I won’t fight a man who doesn’t fight back.

  “Come on, Zane. Give it to me.”

  “Fine, Dami. You want me to give it to you? How about a nice slice of truth? How about the fact that Lina tried to seduce me?”

  The fight leaves my body. A different kind of anger-infused adrenaline rushes through my veins. She wouldn’t. She knows he’s gay. That doesn’t mean she didn’t try, the devil whispers in my ear.

  “That’s right,” he continues, giving me a snide smile. “She came into my bathroom, half naked, offering me her body in exchange for the evidence against Harold.”

  Rage threatens to consume me. I can’t speak under the weight of it.

  “She threw herself at me, so much so I had to push her away. She slipped
and hit her hip against the basin. Ask her to show you the bruise if you don’t believe me.”

  “Enough,” I grit out, unable to bear the mental images tormenting my mind.

  “I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to hurt her.”

  Carefully, I bottle my rage, pushing it underneath the polished veneer of fake calm. I’ll let it explode later, when I have every single gritty detail of the facts. “Why tell me now?”

  “Because I care more about our friendship than what happens to her.”

  Getting into his personal space, I lower my voice. “One more mark on her body, no matter what she did, and you move into that hotel with your pops. Got it?”

  A pained look comes over his face. He doesn’t answer, but backtracks to the door, watching me like I’ve done him an injustice. Maybe I’m wrong in this. Maybe I’m wrong in hurting Zane’s feelings, but Lina comes first. Always. If anyone’s to put a mark on her body, it’s me. I should keep away from her until I’ve got a handle on my emotions, especially after what happened with Andries, but my anger burns too high.

  Before Zane steps through the door, I give him a command I probably shouldn’t. “Tell Russell to take the afternoon off. Rest of the staff, too. That includes you.”

  A sliver of a smile reaches his lips. I recognize it for what it is. Satisfaction. He gets what he wants, after all. He gets his revenge on Lina, trusting my uncontrollable jealousy and possessiveness where she’s concerned to take care of it. He nods as he hurries to execute my order.

  Standing at the top of the stairs, I watch them go. When the door closes behind Zane, I go in search of Lina and find her in our bedroom. The door is open. She doesn’t hear me enter. She stands in front of the window like a statue, staring through it with no telling what’s going on in her mind.

  “Lina.” She jumps. “Undress.”

  She gives me a startled look. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Why?”

  “It will be unwise to make me tell you again.”

  She knows I’ll tear the flimsy dress off if I have to. Holding my eyes with questions in hers, questions I’ll soon answer while demanding some answers of my own, she steps out her sandals, unzips the dress, and lets it fall at her feet.

  “Underwear too.”