Pretty Broken Promises: An Unconventional Love Story

by Jeana E. Mann

  The doors opened to reveal the long table decorated with overflowing floral centerpieces and immaculate linens. For a brief moment, I traveled back in time, having spent more than my fair share of hours polishing the silver in this room. I straightened my shoulders, aware of the eyes watching my every movement, and let the butler lead me to a chair beside Sam. Maxwell sat at the head of the table, Rayna and Vanessa to his right, Sam to his left. Sam motioned the butler away and stood to pull out my chair.

  “Good evening, everyone,” I said, taking my seat with as much poise as I could muster.

  “Good evening,” Rayna replied.

  “Am I late?” I asked, nonplussed. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

  “You’re right on time,” Sam replied. As he slid the chair beneath me, he bent to murmur in my ear. “You look fantastic.”

  “Thanks.” I flushed under his approval and smoothed a hand over the soft silk of my dress. When I glanced up to meet his gaze, he quickly extinguished the heat in their green depths.

  “I love your outfit,” Vanessa said. “Where did you get it?”

  “Um, Fran Barrett’s boutique,” I said, a little surprised by the compliment. Vanessa and I had never been more than passing acquaintances. In Seaforth tradition, she’d been shipped off to boarding school on the East Coast for the majority of her teen years and had preferred to stay away on breaks and holidays.

  “I remember her—I think we called her Clover back in the day,” Vanessa murmured. “I’ll have to look her up when I’m in town.”

  “You’re sticking around?” I jumped at the rumble of Sam’s deep voice. He lifted an eyebrow.

  “Maybe,” she replied. Like Sam and Maxwell, she’d mastered the art of hiding her emotions. A mask of indifference smoothed her delicate features.

  “Enough small talk.” Maxwell’s commanding tone brought a halt to the chit-chat, and everyone stiffened. “Let’s get to business.”

  Servants flooded the room, carrying soup tureens. They passed from person to person, ladling delicious liquid into priceless china bowls. Rayna extended her wine glass for yet another refill. I followed suit. Perhaps a little alcohol would soothe the irritation.

  “As you know, I’ve decided to step down from Seaforth Industries,” Maxwell said. “And I’ve asked Cameron Blackwood to take my place.”

  Sam’s anger radiated down my arm where our shoulders touched, but his face remained impassive. Vanessa kept her eyes on her soup, a small frown playing on her lips. That was when I got it. In true Maxwell fashion, this was a carefully planned ambush, aimed at my husband, to force him into submission.

  “I won’t have that manwhore running our family business,” Vanessa said, her brows lowering.

  “Vanessa, I’ll handle this.” Maxwell shot his daughter a squelching scowl. A mask of false pleasantness slid over his features. “Unless you’d like to take over, Sam. Or do you still have no interest in the family’s future?”

  “I said I had no interest in running the business with you,” Sam said. “I don’t want to see the company fail, but I have my own interests.” He shot a sideways glance in my direction. “And frankly, I don’t have the time.”

  “I’m not asking you to choose,” Maxwell replied. “I’m done playing games with you. Drop this silly vendetta of yours and take your place at the helm.”

  “You can’t let this happen, Sam.” Vanessa’s voice climbed to a higher note. “I’d rather see the whole thing collapse than have Blackwood in charge. You know what he’s like.”

  “You’re trying to force me into choosing between my business and yours.” Sam shoved back from the table. Soup sloshed over the edge of my bowl. “I won’t give up what’s mine.”

  “You’re screwing this up, Maxwell.” Vanessa scowled in an exact approximation of her father’s expression. After a calming breath, she turned to face her brother. “We need you to take over. The company needs someone stable, someone with a good public image, to overcome the negative publicity. Daddy thinks—”

  “Daddy?” One of Sam’s golden eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

  “Don’t be petty about this,” Maxwell interjected. “The company needs you. If not for our sake, do it for the legacy.”

  “I have a business of my own to run,” Sam said. Although his voice remained smooth, rage vibrated in his undertones. “A damn fine business. And I don’t want any of your dirty laundry tainting all of my hard work.”

  “You owe Seaforth Industries a huge debt. Without it, you’d never have become anything.”

  The air in the dining room thickened by tenfold at Maxwell’s jab.

  I bristled on Sam’s behalf. They intended to railroad or shame him into becoming Maxwell’s pawn. Beneath the table, I slid my hand into his and squeezed to let him know he wasn’t alone, that I was here to back him up. A bit of the tension in his jaw eased. His gaze met mine, unreadable and filled with enough anger to set me back in my chair.

  “Sam became a success despite Seaforth Industries,” I said, unable to remain silent any longer. “Everything he became is because of his hard work. He has a stellar reputation because he disassociated from you. You had nothing to do with it. If anything, being a Seaforth has worked against him.”

  A flush the color of eggplant rushed up Maxwell’s neck. “You don’t belong here.” He turned to Sam. “See? This is what I meant about her.”

  Sam squeezed my hand tighter. “I’ve had enough of you. I knew this was a mistake.”

  Rayna peered over her wineglass, eyes round. She set down the goblet and drew in a deep breath. “Please, everyone. Let’s take a second to breathe and think about why we’re here. This is about coming together, not driving each other further apart.”

  An inappropriate and nonsensical urge to giggle twitched my lips. I cleared my throat. Sam shot a sideways scowl in my direction which quickly morphed into confusion. Our eyes met. For the first time in a long time, I felt a surge of emotion, of love, toward him. This wasn’t just dinner. This was war.

  “He might be persuaded to reconsider it, if the reward was high enough,” I said. Sam shook his head, the movement imperceptible to anyone but me.

  “Spoken like a true gold digger.” Maxwell smiled with something close to approval.

  Sam slammed his napkin onto the table. He shoved back from the table. “No. No way.” Before any of us could react, he stormed out of the room.

  Chapter 30

  DAKOTA

  I FOLLOWED Sam into the hallway. His long legs ate up the distance while I trotted to catch up. Ten paces from the front door, he whirled to face me. I stopped short, shocked by the blaze of animosity behind his green irises. He pointed a finger at me.

  “What the fuck was that about?” His lips trembled with the force of his ire. His use of profanity knocked me back a step. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

  My insides quaked. Sam was a big guy, even bigger when he was angry. I drew in a deep breath through my nose and tried to keep my voice soothing. “You misunderstood. You should take a minute and think about what this means. You’re always telling me to do business with my head and not my emotions.”

  “This is different.” Danger lurked in the undertone of his words. He took a step closer. I held my position with braced legs and lifted my chin to stare in his eyes. “You of all people know the price I’ve paid—we’ve paid—because of his psychotic dreams of grandeur. I will not let him into our lives.”

  “Yes. I know, Sam. I know.” Summoning all my courage, I took his face between my palms. “I also know that you could use this opportunity against him. He’s good, but you’re better. You have allies where he has none. I’m just asking you to consider it. Once you take charge, you can shut him out and do whatever you want.”

  He looked away, staring out the window. With his jaw clenched and his hair mussed, he exuded raw power and masculinity. My knees went weak with attraction at the sight of him. After a heaving breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face and walked
toward the door.

  “And Sam?” He paused, hand on the door knob, but didn’t turn around. “Just so you know, I’m always on your side.”

  When Sam didn’t return within the hour, I changed clothes and ventured outside the house in search of him. A cool breeze carried the promise of rain. I never knew what happened next in the dining room because I never went back. Let the vultures feed and pick on each other. My only concern was Sam.

  In a heartbeat, the rift between us had widened. He’d completely misunderstood my motives. I wavered between hurt and panic. Our relationship seemed to be careening down the mountainside, out of control, and I didn’t know how to stop the madness.

  Crickets and frogs joined together in song as I wandered the gravel path to the gardens. The house loomed dark and silent at my back, teeming with secrets. I veered around the beds of herbs and headed toward the stables. Nothing had changed since my teen years. Small statues of cherubs watched my flight, somber and quiet in the twilight. At the bend in the curve, I ran into a solid body. Two large hands gripped my arms. Stifling a yelp, I struggled against the clinging fingers.

  “Careful. You’ll hurt yourself.” Maxwell’s smooth voice scraped over my nerves.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” I yanked free and took two paces back to put space between us.

  “You shouldn’t be out here.” His words held a hint of amusement. “But then, you never were very good at staying where you belong.”

  “I’m so over this—whatever this is you’re doing.” Weariness sapped the strength from my body. I’d been fighting for so long against Maxwell, Sam, and myself. I just didn’t have the drive to continue. With a shake of my head, I turned, intending to return to the house and wait for Sam in our room, but his next words stopped my flight.

  “Don’t leave. Please.”

  Never, in the past twenty years, had I ever heard Maxwell utter the word please to anyone, especially not to me.

  “If you think I’m going to hang out here and let you belittle and berate me, you’re sadly mistaken.” I continued walking. His footsteps crunched in the gravel behind me.

  “Did you like my gift? The locket?” I didn’t answer. He continued. “Sam’s mother wore it every day of her life. She loved him more than she loved me, or anyone else for that matter. If she was here, she’d convince him to step up. It’s what he was born to do. Surely you understand that.”

  After a deep breath, I considered my words carefully. “I didn’t know her well enough to guess her wishes, but I’m sure she wouldn’t approve of your highhandedness.”

  “You know this is a smart move. You could nudge him in the right direction.”

  “Sam will do what Sam wants to do,” I replied and turned back to the house. “And there’s not a damn thing you or I can do about it.”

  Chapter 31

  DAKOTA

  THE GRANDFATHER clock in the hall chimed midnight, I woke from a fitful sleep to sweep a hand over the cool bedsheets beside me. My stomach growled and yanked me into full consciousness. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and stared into the darkness. Perhaps Sam had returned and fallen asleep on the chaise. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized I was alone. But not for long.

  A sliver of light sliced across the room as the door opened. The tall silhouette of my husband darkened the doorway. Too emotionally drained for another confrontation, I slipped back beneath the sheets and pretended to sleep. The door closed behind him. He stalked across the room on silent feet, graceful as a panther in pursuit of a doe, and came to a stop beside the bed. I felt his gaze drill into me.

  “You can stop faking it. I know you’re awake,” he said.

  I opened my eyes. He kicked off his shoes. They landed on the floor with a muffled thump. He continued to stare down at me as his fingers unfastened the buttons of his shirt then tossed it to the floor. He unbuckled his belt, sliding it through the loops with exaggerated slowness. The zipper of his trousers growled in the quietness. The walls of my throat tightened as he pushed his pants and boxers over his hips. They puddled at his feet. He wobbled as he struggled out of them.

  “Are you drunk?” I sat up, thoroughly shocked. I’d only seen Sam inebriated a handful of times.

  “Fuck yeah,” he said, his speech still crisp. He placed a knee on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight.

  “Where have you been?” The smell of scotch filled the air between us.

  “Do you care?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Hollow words, Mrs. Seaforth. I’m beginning to wonder where your loyalties lie.”

  I slid closer to my side of the bed and hauled the blanket up to my chin. He pulled it away, exposing my body and the thin nightgown covering it. His eyes raked over me. My insides trembled so violently that I thought surely he would see it. Not from fear but from all the feelings battling for escape.

  “You don’t love me anymore.” On arms taut with muscle, he lowered himself onto the bed.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.” I clung to my indifference for protection against the emotions surging inside me.

  “I know exactly what I’m saying. I no longer hold a place in your heart.” With a slow, graceful slide, he pressed his body to my side. The heat of his torso burned through my nightgown.

  I swallowed hard. “You’re being ridiculous.” The floor loomed at my left. I was trapped, unable to move any further.

  “Am I? We haven’t slept together in months, and you know what they say.” He bent and blew a hot breath onto my right nipple. It puckered in immediate response. “If you’re not getting it at home, you must be getting it somewhere else.”

  “Who says that? No one says that.” I reached for the blanket, but he caught my arm by the wrist. He grabbed the opposite hand and pulled them both over my head, trapping them there with gentle pressure. “Sam.”

  His head dipped lower. He took the tight point between his teeth and tugged. I gasped, feeling the pull deep between my legs. “Are you? Getting it somewhere else?”

  “You think I’ve been unfaithful? Seriously?” Desire mingled with rage. “I would never cheat on you.”

  “But you don’t love me.” He rested his chin on my chest and stared at me through long, black lashes.

  “Stop it. You’re being an ass.” I bucked beneath him, hard enough to make him grunt. “It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just—things are different. I’m not the same person anymore.”

  By patiently working his knee back and forth, he managed to nudge my thighs apart and settled between them. The weight of his erection nudged against my clit. He shifted his hips, hitting the optimum spot, causing need to flare inside me. Still pinning my wrists above my head with his left hand, he used his free hand to push my nightgown over my hips. One of his fingers slipped inside my panties and traced my folds where I was slick with need.

  “You may not love me, but you still want me.” His eyelids lowered to half-mast, and one corner of his mouth tilted upward in a smirk. “You’re so wet. And I bet if touched you right here, you’d gasp.” To prove his point, he dragged his fingertip in a teasing circle around my clit. Shards of sexual excitement took my breath away.

  “Why are you being like this?” I tilted my pelvis, grinding into his hand, wanton with desire, unable to stop myself. It had been too long for both of us. If he touched me like that for long, I’d lose the little bit of self-control I had left.

  “Like what?” He continued to tease me with his fingers, using languid strokes, until my legs twitched.

  “Let go of my hands.” I struggled against his grasp, desperate to regain control.

  “And what if I don’t?” The plush stubble of his five o’clock shadow tickled as he nibbled and sucked along the column of my neck.

  “I’ll scream.” We both knew this was a lie, but I was so desperate to feel his skin, to smooth my hands along his back, to pull him closer, that I’d do just about anything to get my way.

  “Give me one good r
eason why I should let you go.”

  “I need to touch you.” My words came out stilted and breathy.

  One of his fingers slipped inside me, followed by a second. My muscles clenched and fluttered in pre-orgasmic warning. “Oh no, no you don’t. Not yet. You’ll come when I’m damn good and ready and not a minute before.”

  “Please, please let me come.” I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled my head from side to side. He removed his fingers. The abrupt end to his touch sent a shudder down my body. When I opened my eyes, I found him staring down at me, green eyes almost black. I strained upward to find his lips, desperate to have his mouth on mine. I wanted him, the friction of his tongue, the firm softness of his lips. He pulled back just enough to put an inch of space between us. A small groan of frustration slipped out before I could stop it.

  “So greedy.” He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “You could fuck me,” I replied hopefully.

  “What’s the magic word?” He arched an eyebrow.

  “You could fuck me. Please. Sir.” I blinked innocently.

  “That’s better.” A ghost of a smile teased his lips.

  Once again, I went in for his mouth. This time he let me kiss him, slowly at first. Our lips met tentatively. I felt his hesitation and confusion, things that I’d given him. The taste of scotch burned my tongue. He held still, letting me come to him. When I deepened the kiss, he released my hands. I dug my fingers into his hair, angling his jaw to give me better access to his tongue. A deep growl rumbled through his chest. With a sudden jerk, he slid his knees apart, opening my thighs wide. Heat raced from my core and up my chest.

  “What’s gotten into you?” My heart pinged against my ribcage, so fast and so hard that I thought my chest would explode.

  “I’m going to make you remember why you loved me.” He dragged a hand along the length of my neck and down to squeeze my breast. “I’m going to fuck you until you remember why you married me.” His hand continued down my side to grab a handful of my bottom. With a shift of his hips, he nudged his cock inside me, sliding in all the way to the root with a slow, torturous shove. The friction of his bare skin inside my channel sent a wave of gooseflesh along my forearms.