Damaged Hearts, Book 3

by Monica Murphy

  All-consuming.

  “Keep doing what?” she asks breathlessly.

  “You always push me away when shit gets bad. One little argument and now you’re trying to end it. That’s what couples do sometimes—they fight.”

  “You think we’re a couple?” She sounds doubtful. Typical.

  “I thought we had a good thing going.” I slip my arm around her waist, holding her to me, my mouth still by her ear. “You told me I run away from my problems, but so do you. Every time life throws a curveball your way, your first instinct is to bail.”

  “Why the baseball reference? You’re a basketball player.” If she’s trying to tease me, her timing is awful. I growl near her ear and she leans into me like she can’t help herself, her body molding itself to mine, and damn, she feels good. “I don’t bail every single time,” she protests weakly.

  The little liar. “You do too and you know it.” I spread my hand wide, my palm pressed against her stomach. “Let me inside, Jensen.” Those words mean way more than just me asking to come inside the apartment.

  Let me inside your thoughts. Your life. Your heart.

  “I was about to leave.”

  I pull away and study her, really taking in her outfit. She’s wearing a black floral-print dress that nearly reaches her knees and black flats, her hair curled at the ends, a thin gold necklace wound around her neck. “Where are you going?”

  She turns slightly and hip checks me, so I have no choice but to take a step back. “None of your business.”

  I throw my hands up in the air, frustration rolling through me, pushing me straight to the edge. “Come the fuck on. This is getting old.”

  Jensen fully faces me, her expression neutral. “I agree. It is getting old. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “That we’re done! We’re through! Quit trying to make what we have into something real. It’s not. It never has been. We’re too different. It would never work between us.” There’s frustration in her voice, and she’s slinging her words at me like weapons, but something tells me what she’s saying is kind of…

  Phony?

  Maybe not, though. Maybe that’s me hoping she’s full of shit.

  When I’m quiet for a too long moment, she practically shrieks, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “You really believe that.” My voice is flat while my emotions are kicking into chaos. Does she actually believe what she’s saying?

  She lifts her chin, looking determined. The tiniest bit scared. “I really believe that,” she whispers.

  Backing away from her, I slowly shake my head. “You need time, I think,” I say just before I turn and make my way toward the parking lot. More like I need time to figure out what’s going on.

  “Time won’t help us, Rhett,” she yells after me, but I don’t respond.

  I’m too busy heading for my car, my mind filled with everything I need to do.

  It may take me a while, but I will get to the bottom of this.

  I have to.

  Jensen

  I posted my resume on one of those job search websites at Savannah’s urging, and out of nowhere I receive an email this morning requesting an interview for later this afternoon.

  “I’ve had my resume on that site for years,” Savannah tells me as I’m putting on the last of my makeup in the bathroom we share. “And no one has ever contacted me like that. Not once.”

  “I guess I’m lucky then.” I slick on one more coat of mascara and put the tube away in my cosmetics bag, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Not bad, though I’m wearing the same dress from yesterday when I went out and dropped my resume off at a few businesses around town.

  Despite my encounter with Rhett, I didn’t let it get me down. Nope, I let our stupid argument fuel me, push me to try my best to find a job despite what he said and how he acted. Savannah’s wrong and he’s wrong too. I don’t need him to change my life for the better. I can do this shit on my own.

  I got this.

  “I suggest if anything looks strange or if you have a weird feeling about the interview, you should run,” Savannah says as she follows me out of the bathroom and into the living room.

  “What are you talking about?” I sit on the edge of the couch and slip my shoes on, then run my fingers through my hair. I’m nervous. The business that contacted me has a position listed for an assistant, and I’ve never assisted someone in my life. I don’t even know why they emailed me. I don’t have any administrative skills. Everything on my resume is restaurant or fast food work. Oh, and that one time I worked at the grocery store in my hometown, but that job barely counts. I think I worked there two weeks, tops.

  “I think it’s odd how this place sought you out and asked you for an interview out of the blue.” Savannah presses her lips together. “I Googled the business, but there’s nothing listed.”

  Of course she Googled the business. I’m the queen of Google, so why didn’t I think of that? I was so impressed and excited that they actually wanted an interview, I guess I forgot. “So?”

  “So, it’s as if MP Industries doesn’t even exist. And that’s strange, Jen.” Savannah starts pacing the short length of the living room, chewing on a fingernail. “I want to go with you to your interview. Make sure you’re okay.”

  “Savannah, I appreciate your concern, but that is the lamest thing ever.” I rise to my feet and grab my purse, slinging it over my shoulder. “I don’t need you to babysit me. I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

  “What if it’s a setup? What if it’s that—” She hesitates, her eyes wide as she stares at me. The fear on her face makes my stomach churn with nerves. “What if it’s that Greg guy trying to get back in contact with you?”

  My stomach dips. I never did tell her about my run in with Greg at the Montgomery house. She’d probably call the cops if she knew I hadn’t done anything, and that could’ve caused an even bigger problem. One I absolutely don’t need.

  “That’s crazy, Sav. Your imagination is running wild.”

  I head for the front door, but she’s quicker, inserting herself in between me and the door so I have no choice but to stop. I don’t bother arguing. What’s the point? May as well let her do what she wants. Plus, she might have a point. I’d rather be safe than sorry.

  “Fine, you can drive me to the interview.”

  Her expression turns hopeful. “Are you serious? Let me get my shoes on.”

  “Hurry up! I don’t want to be late,” I tell her as she runs toward her bedroom. With a big sigh I check my phone, secretly hoping for a notification from Rhett, but there’s nothing. Not that I should be surprised.

  Guess I finally pushed him away once and for all.

  The ache in my chest is hard to ignore and I rub at it absently, reminding myself I’m being overdramatic. Like Rhett and I had a fighting chance anyway. My lies are too big to overcome. It’s a relief, really, not having him around anymore, not having to pretend that everything is fine when it’s so not.

  But as I sit in the car while Savannah drives me to MP Industries, I realize that these last few weeks together, I wasn’t pretending with Rhett. I care about him. I had fun with him. He’s so sweet to me, so thoughtful and caring and smart. I liked that his father approved of me. I liked getting to know Addie—funny since at one point in my life, she was the Montgomery I hated the most, I was so jealous of her and the relationship I thought she had with my dear old mother.

  Even his brother Park’s okay, though he’s kind of an ass. I know I could handle him if I had to. I’ve dealt with guys like that before.

  It’s my own mother I don’t know how to deal with. I don’t understand Diane Montgomery. She’s so callous, so rude, so incredibly selfish. Every time I came around her, she couldn’t even look my way when all I wanted to do was shout and say, “See? This is me! I’m your daughter! The one you forgot all about!”

  I have a feeling that even if I would’ve
shouted all of that at her, she never would’ve heard me.

  When Savannah finally pulls up in front of the mostly abandoned-looking building in the middle of the industrial part of town, we send each other skeptical glances.

  “I don’t like this place,” Savannah says uneasily. “It’s creepy.”

  “It’s fine.” Taking a deep breath, I grab my bag off the floor, shoving my phone inside.

  “It’s not fine. There’s no one around. Where are all the cars?” She’s leaning over the steering wheel and peering out the window, looking up and down the street. She’s right. There are no cars around. It’s weird.

  “I don’t know.” I grab the handle and open the door, stepping out of the car, Savannah doing the same. I study the drab building looming in front of me, holding my hand to my forehead to shield my eyes. There’s no sign on the front, the windows are dark, and the unease that slips cold down my spine gives me major second thoughts.

  “Maybe you should walk inside with me,” I say to Savannah.

  “Absolutely,” she agrees with a firm nod.

  We enter the building, the doors swinging open with ease and a wall of cool air enveloping me, making me shiver. Why run the air conditioning when it’s the end of November and cold out? Weird.

  The cavernous lobby is mostly empty, save for the beautiful dark-haired woman sitting behind a large desk on the far side of the room. When she notices us, she stands. “Hello. Is either one of you Jensen?”

  “I am,” I say with a faint smile as I step toward her.

  The woman smiles in return, moving from behind her desk to come stand in front of us. “It’s so nice to meet you, Jensen. I’m Sandra, and I’ll take you to your interview. I hope your friend doesn’t mind waiting out here for you?”

  I turn to look at Savannah. “You okay with waiting?”

  Savannah raises her brows and looks around, her gaze lingering on the nearby couches. “You okay with me not going with you?”

  “I’ll be all right.” I take a step closer and lower my voice so only she can hear me. “I’ll make a run for it if things get out of hand.”

  She smiles. “Good idea.”

  “See you in a bit,” I tell her before I turn to Sandra. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Sandra leads me down a long, narrow hall, making small talk, asking if I have any Thanksgiving plans, and do I have a job currently? I offer up vague answers. I’m not one for casual conversation, especially when it has to do with me. I’d rather keep my private details private, thank you very much.

  There’s a door at the end of the hall and she reaches for the handle, opening it slowly. “You can go in now.”

  “Um. Wait a—” I turn to look at her, but she’s shooing me in then closing the door behind me so quickly, I have to leap forward so she doesn’t slam the door on me. I look around the room, spotting the desk angled in the farthest corner, and a man sits behind it.

  And not just any man.

  It’s Park. Rhett’s big brother.

  What. The. Hell?

  “Jensen.” He stands and makes his way toward me, immaculate in a black suit, his dark hair slicked back, his expression open. Friendly. The total opposite of how he behaved during our last encounter, when he revealed my job status to Diane with such uncontained glee. Like he couldn’t want to humiliate me, the jackass. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  I take a step back, confused. Annoyed. This feels like a setup. A trick. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m the CEO of MP Industries.” He offers me a crooked smile, somehow looking bashful and smug all at once.

  I’m having a hard time comprehending what he’s telling me. “Are you the one I’m supposed to interview with?”

  “Well. Yes. I need an assistant.” He slips his hands in his trouser pockets, deceptively casual. I don’t know what he’s up to, but it definitely doesn’t feel legit. “I didn’t know how to tell you it was me. Plus I figured if you knew you were interviewing with me, you wouldn’t show up.”

  “You figured correctly,” I tell him just before I turn and start heading for the door. He’s right behind me, his steps increasing, and before I can reach for the handle, his hand is there, smacking against the door and pressing on the sleek wood to keep me captive.

  These Montgomery men are determined, I can give them that.

  “Hear me out, Jensen,” he says, stepping away from me when I turn to face him. “I want you to come work for me.”

  “Why?” I ask incredulously, crossing my arms. “I don’t understand. How did you even find me?”

  He offers a little shrug, still going for nonthreatening. I don’t believe him, though. I think he’s a bigger threat than he’s letting on. “I was scrolling through that career site and stumbled upon your resume. I checked out your qualifications, and realized quick you’d make the perfect assistant.” That smile is still pasted on his face, but his eyes have gone a little dim. “Come on, Jensen. Sit down, let’s chat for a few minutes.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I can’t work for you.”

  “Why not? I know you don’t have a job right now.” When I frown at him, he continues, “I called City Lights. They told me you didn’t work there any longer.”

  Is he stalking me? This makes zero sense. I decide not to acknowledge the lack of job comment. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” He blinks his big brown eyes and I sort of want to punch him.

  “Showing such—interest in me? What are you doing? Trying to make your brother jealous?”

  Park actually scoffs. “Please. My little brother has been jealous of me since the day he was born. I don’t need to make him feel that emotion. He experiences it every single day with everything I do.”

  I doubt that. Rhett’s never given me even a hint of jealousy when he speaks of his brother. “Then what’s the point? There must be something driving you to do this.”

  “There’s nothing going on, beyond me being in search of a qualified assistant. And you just so happen to top the list,” Park says easily, mimicking my position by crossing his arms.

  “My topless waitressing skills are what sent me over the top of the qualified list, am I right?” I arch a brow, and he actually has the decency to appear momentarily chastised. “You know I don’t have an office or assistant experience.”

  “Fine. You want to know the truth?” He drops his arms to his sides and comes closer, his mouth curved in a barely-there smile, the scent of his expensive cologne tickling my senses. He reminds me of Rhett, but older looking. No, harder looking. Like he has a lot more distrust for people than his brother does. As if he’s been wronged one too many times and he’s not going to let his guard down anymore.

  “I would love to know the truth,” I tell him, lifting my chin a little bit, going for strong, fearless woman. Really, I’m quaking inside, my stomach a jumble of twisted nerves.

  “You look like a girl who knows how to keep a secret,” he murmurs, reaching out to touch just beneath my chin with his index finger. He strokes me there, a feather-light touch that’s there and gone in a matter of seconds, his hand falling away from me. “In fact, I’d bet you keep lots of secrets.”

  I try my best not to visibly tremble. It’s like he knows.

  Does he, though?

  When I say nothing, he continues, “I need someone by my side who’s discreet. Who can keep her mouth shut. Someone who’ll work hard for me, who’ll help me grow this business since my asshole father won’t give me his. Even though I’m the one who’s worked more than he has for the last five fucking years.”

  I’m shocked by the venom in his tone. Blinking up at him, I try to comprehend what he’s saying. “So you’re starting a business without your father knowing about it?”

  Park clamps his lips shut so tightly, they practically disappear. “I won’t talk about it with you any further unless you sign a NDA.”

  I frown. “Sign a what?”

  “A nondisclosure agreement. I h
ave to ensure your silence before I can say anything else.” He strides toward the desk, glancing over his shoulder so his gaze meets mine. “Come with me.”

  I follow after him as if I have no control of myself, stopping just in front of his desk. He hands me a piece of paper and I glance at it. There’s a lot of writing, a bunch of legalese that I don’t really understand, along with two blank lines at the bottom of the page for us both to sign.

  “Before this interview can continue, I need you to sign this,” Park says solemnly.

  I squint at the paper, wishing I could understand it. I mean, I’m not a total idiot, but I don’t like reading when I’m under pressure. I don’t like doing anything under pressure. It’s not cool. Not at all.

  “I can’t sign your NDA,” I finally say, lifting my gaze to Park’s.

  The irritation on his face is obvious. “Why not?”

  “I don’t think I want to continue with this interview.” When he tilts his head, I realize he’s going to make me say it. “I don’t want to work for you, Park. Not like this.”

  “Not like what? I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  “I don’t want to sneak around without your dad knowing.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  Park grabs another piece of paper from the desk and hands it to me. “This is what your salary would be if you came to work for me, along with a list of benefits the position at MP Industries would provide.”

  My eyes nearly bug out of my head when I see the total at the bottom of the piece of paper. He wants to pay me over one hundred grand a year to be his assistant? Is he out of his freaking mind?

  “It’s a very competitive salary,” he adds, like he hasn’t just blown my mind.

  “Are you for real right now?” I ask, my head spinning at the thought of all the money I could make. It might suck, having to deal with Park on a daily basis, but for over one hundred thousand dollars a year, I could put up with a lot of shit with a big ol’ smile on my face. It goes without saying that this is way better money that I could ever make at City Lights. Hell, at any potential job I might consider.