Pretty Broken Promises: An Unconventional Love Story

by Jeana E. Mann

  Until now, this had been one of the best days ever. I was going to be a father. And, although the news had come as a shock to Dakota, I could tell she was going to come around. Our fledgling company teetered on the verge of unprecedented success. I’d floated to the airport on a cloud of euphoria. Then, in typical asshat fashion, my father had managed to steal the moment.

  “There’s more.” She frowned at the screen of her tablet. I extended a hand to take it from her, but she held it out of my reach. “You’re not going to like it.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. She sighed and placed the tablet in my hand. A video clip of the morning news showed Dakota swarmed by reporters. To the casual onlooker, she seemed calm, her back straight, gaze trained on the entrance of our office building. Rockwell stood at her side, shoving through the crowd, bulldozing a path for her into the building. I, however, recognized panic in the set of her mouth and the way her eyes went round as the crowd jostled her. My gut twisted at the thought of her dealing with the shit storm my father had created. She’d already paid a high price for his meddling. We both had. She wasn’t prepared for this kind of attention, and it was my fault. I should have insisted on media training and more security. I knew better. We’d been lucky to avoid the chaos for so long.

  “Get Rockwell for me,” I said to Mrs. Caldwell. Even though I knew it was an impossible request, I added, “Call my father and see if you can get him on the phone.” I hit Dakota’s name on speed dial and held my breath. The call went straight to voice mail.

  By the time we debarked the plane, media swarmed the gate, eager for dirt, whipped into a frenzy over the scent of Seaforth blood. A security team met us in the terminal and ushered us through the airport. I’d grown up in the media spotlight, although my mother had protected me from the fray as a child. Once grown, I’d managed to avoid the distasteful drama of the paparazzi through careful planning and Rockwell’s assistance. Since marrying Dakota, I’d fallen into a sort of blissful bubble of denial. She made it so easy to feel like a normal guy, to forget I had a mountain of responsibilities, that I’d been born into a different world. No matter what I did, my father and the Seaforth legacy would forever lurk in the shadows of my life.

  “Mr. Seaforth isn’t taking any calls. Rockwell is holding.” Mrs. Caldwell extended her phone to me.

  I lifted it to my ear. “What the hell is going on, Rockwell? Where’s Dakota?”

  The hustle and bustle of Manhattan scrolled past the tinted windows. The SUV crawled at a snail’s pace through traffic. The buildings became taller and more imposing. I drummed impatient fingertips on the top of my thigh.

  “Dakota’s fine. She’s in a meeting with Beckett.” Rockwell spoke with the calm, precise tones of a man in control. “The place is crawling with reporters. We’ve beefed up security at the building and your apartment. Laurel Falls PD is enforcing a perimeter to keep curious onlookers from loitering on the street.”

  “Good.” Relief washed through me. As long as Dakota was okay, I could deal with the rest. “I want someone assigned to her twenty-four seven until I get back.”

  “Already on it.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Sam, your apartment—it’s not the easiest to secure. There’s no doorman. No cameras. The entrances are unsecured. It’s a nightmare.”

  “I agree.” Over the years, Rockwell had earned my trust and respect. Not only was he my driver and bodyguard, he was my friend and more of a father figure than Maxwell had ever been. “What do you recommend?”

  “If it was up to me, I’d move you guys to a hotel for a week or so, until the hubbub wears down.”

  “Dakota won’t have it.” I rubbed a finger across my upper lip, contemplating the cost to such a suggestion.

  “That’s for sure. You’ve got yourself a handful with that girl.” His tone brimmed with affection and admiration.

  “You’re telling me.”

  We shared a chuckle and ended the call as the Escalade came to a stop in front of the Chrysler Building. A few blocks away, the imposing mirrored façade of my father’s Serenity Tower gleamed in the noon day sun. Serenity, my ass. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled as I glared at the black spire. No matter where I went, how large the city or how distant the continent, traces of Maxwell lurked everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, I was proud of my ancestry and my family’s rise from working class to elite. My many-times-great-grandfather had built a fortune through blood and sweat and sacrifice. It was my father who rubbed me the wrong way.

  Xavier met us in the lobby. I’d sent him ahead to smooth out any kinks for this very important week. His pale green jacket and straight-legged trousers contrasted with the sea of muted blue and gray suits swimming around us. The second I crossed the threshold, he bounded over, tablet in hand, every hair in place. In the beginning, I’d tried to encourage him to wear a more conservative wardrobe but had tossed those futile efforts aside after a few months. His commanding air and flamboyant appearance demanded attention, and that worked in my favor. No task, regardless of size or importance, went unfinished in his capable hands.

  “Mr. Takashima is waiting for you upstairs.” Xavier began to run down the day’s schedule immediately, trotting beside me on short legs as I strode toward the elevators. “You have lunch with the Morrisons at two, a conference call with the Chicago office at three, and a meeting with the Danvers Group at three forty-five. I’ve taken the liberty of making a dinner reservation for you and the Hamiltons at eight.”

  “Perfect.” In spite of his questionable fashion choices, he was the best damned assistant I’d ever had.

  We moved onto the elevator, along with a handful of people. By their surreptitious glances and furtive stares, they recognized me. Irritating but not unusual. The woman to my left wore a tailored beige suit, her hair swept into a tight bun. She was attractive in a conservative, self-righteous kind of way. The weight of her gaze slid over me. I stared straight forward.

  “Excuse me. You’re Samuel Seaforth,” she said, in a low, cultured Manhattan accent.

  “Yes.” Why did people do that? As if I didn’t know my name. I lifted my chin and gave her a stiff smile; all the while my mind raced through the complications of the morning.

  “You don’t remember me. It’s been years. I’m Bitsy. Bitsy Fields-Barrett?” When I only stared blankly, she extended her hand. “I was a friend of your mother’s. I chair the Seraphim-Seaforth Fund.”

  “Of course. Good to see you.” Memories of my mother stabbed my chest. She’d been gone for a long time, but the pain of her loss still plagued me. What would she make of my father’s antics? He’d put her through more than I’d ever dreamed. Our home had never been a happy place, but she’d always been my rock. Through all the affairs and rumors of shady business practices, she’d remained solid and dependable for her children. My father, on the other hand, deserved every ounce of trouble thrown his way.

  “What a shame about Maxwell. Robert and I had dinner at the yacht club with him and Rayna just last month. We were planning to spend a few weeks together at our house in the Hamptons. I’m sure they’ll need to cancel in light of the investigation.” She really meant that they’d no longer be welcome at the Fields-Barrett house until the scandal lifted. I raised an eyebrow. She cleared her throat. “Of course, Maxwell will be exonerated in no time. He has the best legal team in the country.”

  “Yes.” The elevator paused to take on a new passenger, forcing her to shut up for a second. My relief was brief, however. As soon as the doors closed, she started again.

  “We should have dinner. I’m sure Robert would love it—and I know Mimi is dying to see you. She’s back from Auckland for the summer.” At the mention of Bitsy’s daughter, my blood pressure spiked. I’d fucked Mimi once in the powder room at a friend’s cocktail party, and Mimi had considered the act a proposal of marriage. “How long will you be in the city?”

  “Just for tonight, I’m afraid. I’ve got to get back to my wife.” Bitsy knew I remarried Dakota. Everyone knew. Th
e wedding had been plastered all over the media within days following our private New Orleans ceremony. Thankfully, Dakota and I had been on our honeymoon, so she’d missed the majority of the backlash.

  “Oh, of course. And how is Denise?” Bitsy’s smile faltered the slightest bit.

  “I’m not sure about Denise, but Dakota is doing well.” And because I couldn’t resist, I added, “She’s pregnant. We’re going to celebrate.”

  “How wonderful.” Which, in upper Manhattan bitch language, meant the exact opposite. Thankfully, the elevator halted at Bitsy’s floor. She turned and pressed a dry kiss to my cheek before leaving. “Congratulations. It was fantastic to run into you after all these years, Samuel. I’ll see you at the Seraphim-Seaforth Gala in a few weeks. Don’t forget to call me next time you’re in town.”

  I cocked my head in Xavier’s direction. I’d forgotten about the damn charity ball. I usually avoided the high-society scene, but this had been my mother’s pet cause. This year, she was being honored posthumously, and I’d agreed to give the keynote speech.

  “You’ve got the gala on my calendar, right?” I asked Xavier.

  He blew out a huge sigh as if he’d been holding his breath. “Whew. Her perfume could knock down an elephant. What a bitch.” He waved a hand in front of his face then scowled. “Of course it’s on your calendar.”

  Mrs. Caldwell coughed to cover her laughter. I raised an eyebrow in warning and straightened the knot of my tie. Bitsy’s comments had left me unsettled. Most of the time, I could pretend my father never existed, but those days were over. His presence lurked everywhere. I stared at the numbers above the elevator door and tried to get my head back in the game. Takashima awaited on the next floor. I couldn’t afford to fail with him.

  “Mr. Seaforth, I have your sister on the phone,” Mrs. Caldwell said.

  “Take a message.” I didn’t have time for Venetia’s drama today. She probably wanted to give me hell about changing the deadlines on our latest build.

  “She says it’s urgent.” Mrs. Caldwell held the phone out to me. I scowled and snatched it out of her hand.

  “Make it quick, V. I’m heading into a meeting.” I glanced at my watch. Two minutes to show time. Running late irritated me. Cutting it close irritated me even more.

  “Not V,” said a familiar voice, but one I couldn’t quite place. “Vanessa.”

  The elevator halted at our floor. I exited into the lobby and motioned for Xavier and Mrs. Caldwell to go ahead. “This is unexpected.” I hadn’t spoken to my younger sister in years, not since my mother’s funeral. Even as kids, we’d never been close. She took after my father, cold and expressionless.

  “Have you talked to Maxwell?” she asked. In the background, I heard car horns and general city noises. Perhaps she was having coffee at a street side café in Paris. As the wife of a diplomat, she probably lived an easy life, one filled with endless days of shopping and travel.

  “Great to talk to you, too,” I said. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

  “I’ve only got a minute. What’s going on with Dad?” In typical Seaforth fashion, she cut straight to the chase.

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. Not my concern.” Across the lobby, Xavier tapped his wrist and rolled his eyes. I held up a finger. “Look, I’m late for a meeting. Can I call you back?”

  “You need to care. Seaforth Industries is our family business. Have you looked at the stock prices this morning? They’re in the basement.”

  “So? Serves him right.”

  “Yes, he’s a bastard, but he could very well ruin the family legacy. You’ve got your own money, but the rest of us are counting on our inheritance.” By us, I surmised Venetia hadn’t confided about her parentage and her exclusion from Maxwell’s will. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like a little something to be left for my kids.”

  Her statement hit home with the force of a flaming arrow. I had my own child to consider now. Seaforth Industries had gone through many ups and downs, surviving the Civil War, World Wars I and II, and the Great Depression. Depending on Maxwell’s level of guilt, the entire legacy could be wiped from existence. I knew how easily fortunes could disappear, having lost one of my own recently. Even though I scoffed at Maxwell, my heirs stood to inherit the Seaforth name, along with a hefty portion of the Seaforth dynasty. More than enough for my children and their grandchildren to live on for a lifetime.

  “Why the big interest all of a sudden? Your husband is filthy rich.” Of course, she had every right to be concerned, but her surprise interest piqued my curiosity. “Is there trouble in paradise?”

  “Gilles left me for his secretary. He filed for divorce, and I’m getting nothing but the kids”

  “I’m sorry.” Although I’d never met her husband, I couldn’t help a swift surge of anger toward him. What kind of bastard was this guy?

  The frustration in her voice carried through the phone line and across the ocean between us. “Just do something, Sam. I’d talk to Maxwell myself but I can’t leave Paris right now. He never answers my calls anyway.”

  “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” I ended the call and headed toward the conference room before Xavier popped an artery. My thoughts wandered back to a snippet of information Bitsy had unwittingly dropped. Maxwell was in the city. I’d gone out of the way to avoid him for the better part of my adult life, but maybe it was time for a father-son reunion.

  Chapter 5

  DAKOTA

  AT NOON, Venetia arrived, unannounced, in my office. Like her brother, she was tall and golden and exuded an air of quiet confidence. The lines of her sage-green suit accentuated a slim figure, a flat tummy, and no traces of her recent pregnancy except for the baby carrier on her arm. She set the carrier gently on my desk. A pleasant tingling raced across my skin at the sight of the tiny pink face peering through the folds of a soft white blanket.

  “Wow, it’s crazy out there. One of the security guards sneaked us in through the loading dock.” She smoothed a few loose strands of hair away from her face. “We were supposed to have lunch with Beckett today, but he said he’s busy. After all the fuss to get here, I hate to leave again. I thought maybe you might be free.”

  “Um, sure.” I usually worked through lunch, but invitations from Venetia were few and far between. She’d been making an extra effort to ease the strain in our relationship since the birth of Jane. A sense of camaraderie rushed through me. Our children would grow up together. They’d be family. I didn’t want our differences to affect the children’s relationship. I stood and walked to the window. Although the crowd had lessened, there were still a few media vans parked outside. “Maybe we should order in.”

  “I ordered Italian from the place down the street. They should be here any minute,” Venetia said. I watched with fascination as she extracted tiny Jane from the carrier and unwrapped her blankets. The baby snuffled at the interruption to her cozy nap.

  “Can I hold her?” Before now, I’d shied away from infants, but my fingers curled in anticipation, wanting to hold her.

  “Sure.” Venetia’s features brightened, and she gave me a wide smile.

  “I don’t really know much about babies,” I confessed as she settled Jane into the crook of my arm. “I don’t have any close family with kids.” The heavy, warm weight of her filled a void I hadn’t known existed.

  “Me neither,” Venetia said. “I was scared out of my mind when we brought her home, but they’re not nearly as complicated as you would think. Are you, baby girl?” She stroked Jane’s cheek with a fingertip. Jane, in turn, gave her mother a wide, toothless smile. Venetia’s gaze softened. “I never knew I’d love something so much.”

  For a long minute, we stared in admiration at Jane’s chubby, flailing arms and legs, the sweet bow of her upper lip, and the dimples already evident in her cheeks. The hypnotic scent of baby powder and lotion filled my senses. A cloud of dark ringlets formed a halo around her head and slipped like silk through my fingers.

  “
She’s beautiful,” I whispered. A bubble of hope and longing swelled inside me, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. “I can’t wait to have one of my own.”

  Venetia cocked her head and raised an eyebrow in an expression so reminiscent of Sam, I laughed out loud. “Dakota, are you pregnant?”

  “What?” I bit my lip, trying to hold back the truth, but I’d never been a very good liar.

  “You are! Oh my gosh!” Venetia clapped her hands together then turned in a circle, shaking her hips in a victory dance. “Yes! Sam’s going to be a dad. This is epic.”

  “Shhhh…not so loud. It’s not official.” I glanced at the closed office door. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

  “Do you need an obstetrician?” She withdrew her phone and began to scroll furiously through the contacts. “I can get you into mine if you want.”

  “That would be great.” Seeing her excitement buoyed my own enthusiasm. A huge grin stretched my lips until my cheeks ached.

  “I bet Sam is thrilled. He always wanted kids. He’ll be a great dad, too.” Genuine happiness flushed her face. “This is awesome. We’ve to go shopping and plan a baby shower. You’re going to need a nursery. Have you thought about how you want to decorate?” She pursed her lips. “Pick out a theme and a color palette. I’ll call Helena and ask her to get on it.”

  “Venetia, slow down.” Bubbles of laughter popped in my chest. “I just found out this morning. I’ve got to acclimate.” Venetia’s features drooped in disappointment. “And you can’t tell anyone. Not yet. Sam and I haven’t even had time to discuss it.”

  Jane cooed and gurgled, delighted by our giddiness.

  Venetia plopped into the chair across from my desk, her composure rattled, reminding me that despite her polished appearance, she was still very young. “Fine. But you’d better hurry up, because I hate secrets.” One corner of her mouth lifted. “I’m still going to draw up a few designs for the baby’s room. And I have to tell Beckett.”