The Devastatingly Beautiful Series

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The Devastatingly Beautiful Series Page 13

by M Dauphin


  Rob

  I honestly could have gotten the jacket any time this week, it’s not like I don’t have hundreds of them. I had to see if my hunch was right, though. I had to make sure it was him before we move along with this plan. That man ripped everything away from me so many years ago, revenge will be a bitch for that one. A bitch named Molly.

  Luckily I caught them in the middle of a very heated discussion that ended up leading to more, and that was just delicious to watch. Deliciously beautiful, Molly. The wild hair, the vibrant eyes. So plush. She will be perfect. This is all going better as planned. Originally the contract was just to get him…but seeing what I just did my plans have changed.

  I smile to myself, knowing that I couldn’t be in any better of a position right now. He has no clue who I really am. I have to keep in touch with Molly for this stupid wedding that’s happening because the bride got knocked up. Everything is going wonderfully. Now all I have to do is keep up the charming Rob charade and everything will go my way. Time to start a mind fuck game that will send Nate in a downward spiral. Everyone knows Nate Savage can take down men twice his size. What everyone doesn’t know is that when it comes to mind games, Nate doesn’t do so well. This is going to be fun.

  4

  Tatum

  What's happening today? It keeps going from bad to worse! I need to chill out, I need to back off, and I need a drink. Unfortunately, bad things happen when I drink, so I end up here. In the middle of a corn field. There are a lot of these around here so it’s not surprising this is currently my scenery. There’s a lake a half mile away or so, corn growing all around me. I think I smell cow shit.

  How did I get here? Yes, I love her, but really? At least in Texas I was feared, therefore I was respected. The Savage name got away with anything in Texas. We aren’t criminals, per say (at least they couldn’t get us for anything) we're just that good. The real criminals are taken care of by us. I used to be my dad’s right hand man when it came to teaching those men some lessons. The men like the one that took my little sister and only returned her pieces. The men like the one who killed my brother. When my son was killed my life changed. I didn’t want to kill anymore. I didn’t want to be pitied, and I definitely did not want to talk about my loss every damn day of my life. I guess that’s how I got here. Because I wouldn’t face my past.

  I’ve had so much death around me all of my life, but somehow I'm the one that's fortunate enough to be standing here, in the middle of a cow-shit laden field. Really, I need to be with Molly. I need to apologize. I know I'm being protective, but I’ve seen what men like him do to women. It’s not something that Molly needs to be wrapped up in.

  First I need to cool off, though. If I see him again today I may want to put my fist through his pretty boy face. No scars, soft hands. This man has probably never been in a fight in his life. Me, on the other hand. Well, I’m full of battle wounds, yet I’ve lived to see another day.

  I hate the fact she has to do this wedding this weekend. Doesn’t she know I have all the money we will ever need? I know telling her not to do the wedding will go over incredibly terrible so that’s not an option. My only option at this point is not to leave her side the entire time.

  First thing is first. Time to grab a peanut butter cup and some flowers for her. I owe her an apology. And desk sex.

  Molly

  I have to wait three weeks. Three weeks before I'm able to see a doctor to confirm or deny my pregnancy test. Three weeks of keeping this huge news from everyone I know. Three weeks. A lot can happen in three weeks.

  In order to keep my mind off the track it’s racing around, I start to rearrange my schedule to open it up for next weekend’s wedding extravaganza. Everyone's been very understanding when rescheduling. I only had to mention the Delany name once to get someone to agree to the switched date. I also had to give away a free print package to someone else who was very unhappy. Her dogs already had their scheduled bath and grooming session for the photos I was to take. Heaven forbid they get dirty before their pictures.

  Sighing, I sit down at my desk and instinctively rest my hand on my abdomen. I still remember being pregnant with Alice. The first flutter, the first real kick, the first time her foot (or arm...or some appendage) got stuck in my ribs and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. If this is all real, if I really am pregnant, I get to experience all of that again. Tears form in the corners of my eyes. I can’t believe I’m so lucky to have a second chance at life. After an unhappy past, maybe I’m now able to have a positive outlook on life.

  Sitting here, thinking about everything, smiling down at my stomach, two things happen all at once. I hear my front door open and know immediately that Tatum’s back, and I’m so overcome with emotion from today that I barely make it to the trash can before throwing up everything I’ve eaten. Damnit, morning sickness. If this continues it’s going to be hard to keep it from him for three weeks.

  His hand comes to rest gently on my back as I’m leaning over the trash can making sure I’m finished for now.

  “You alright?” The gentle edge to his voice pulls at my heart strings. He really does care about me, that’s apparent.

  “Yea, just a very upset stomach mixed with nerves from today. I’ll be ok.”

  He looks uncertain, like he knows I’m lying.

  “Molly, I’m sorry. I was an ass. I trust you and know you would never do anything with him. I’m not used to feeling jealous and I didn’t react well at all. Here, I got you these.”

  He awkwardly hands me a package of peanut butter cups and a bouquet of flowers, like he isn’t used to apologizing. The chocolate is a wonderful thought, but just smelling the flowers makes my stomach turn. How to get around this without him being suspicious?

  “I absolutely forgive you, especially when there is chocolate added into the apology,” I say, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “Thank you. Why don’t you grab a vase from the kitchenette and put those on the counter. I need to go freshen up from that.” I said nodding towards the trash can. I don’t go out to the counter much when I’m working so the smell shouldn’t bother me back here.

  He carefully arranges the flowers in a vase and sets them on the counter. I watch him from the hallway, thanking the good Lord that this perfect specimen of a man is mine. Hormones on high alert again, my thoughts start drifting to places they shouldn’t be drifting while at work. The way his jeans hug his ass, the way his muscles are currently bulging out of the tight black t-shirt. After setting the flowers down, he walks towards the door, flips the lock and turns to me, somehow reading my mind.

  “I do believe we have some unfinished business to take care of,” he says as he walks towards me. “I believe we were right about… here… when we were so rudely interrupted earlier.” He growls, then lifts me by my ass as I wrap my legs around me. Shoving us against the newly installed glass wall, I feel his fingers digging into my thighs as he holds me tightly to him.

  His lips crush into mine, his hands holding my ass firmly. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back like my life depends on it. Growing more impatient, I grind against him and feel the familiar bulge twitch in his pants.

  “Damn woman, you’re going to make me keep that promise aren’t you.” He grunts, then carries me to my office desk and sets me down on my feet, moaning an appreciative moan as he stares at me.

  His hands roam down my body, slowly unbuttoning and slipping off the tunic and revealing the lace bra I added into my wardrobe recently. Just the caress of his hands makes my nipples tighten and stretch against the fabric. He leans down and blows on each one, the cool breeze through the fabric is enough to make me explode. I feel like I’m floating, every nerve lighting up in tune with my beating pulse. I start undressing him, shirt first, pants next. I’ll never get used to the body on this man, even if I stare at it every day for the rest of my life. The ripples, the hardness, his ass. The assault on my nipples ends and he focuses his attention lower. My shorts are soon lying on the
floor, along with everything on my desk as he swipes it off in one clean sweep to lay me out. It’s a glass desk, cool on parts of my body, other areas burning hot; the sensation is incredible. I lay back and open my legs, ready for him to do as he pleases.

  “Fuck Molly, that’s so hot” he growls again, his eyes burning into mine, towering above me as I lay out on my desk. It makes me feel powerful, knowing that I do this to him. He’s as hard as he possibly could be when he enters me, and I feel every inch of him. He pins my hands above my head with one hand, the other snakes down to massage ever so gently the one spot that still needs friction, his eyes never leaving mine as he sets a rhythm that’s sure to set me off.

  “Jesus, Molly,” he gasps when I tighten my legs around him and pull him in for a kiss. He sits up and licks his thumb before applying pressure to my clit. Pressure that was much needed.

  “Mmm, Tatum,” I whisper, grinding into his hand as he makes love to me.

  “Oh God, baby, I’m so close,” he grunts, slamming into me a few more times.

  Right as the lightening starts shooting through my body, I scream out in pleasure and my entire body starts tingling. I feel my walls convulsing around him, which sends him into his own release.

  “Shit,” he groans as he finishes inside of me, then rests his head on my shoulder.

  “You’ve ruined me for other men” I managed to gasp.

  He pushes up onto his elbows, unable to move the rest of his body as I’m still wrapped around him.

  “You say that like there’ll be other men after me.” The sideways grin I receive makes my heart flop, just like it did the first time he smiled at me.

  This man is going to make me forget everything I thought about not becoming dependent on another man. I already am letting him creep into my life slowly by moving in with me and giving him the assistant position. If I’m not careful I’m going to lose myself to him, and the last time I did that I lost more than I bargained for.

  5

  Tatum

  Molly and I spend the rest of the afternoon planning out the three days of shooting that are rapidly approaching. She’s never shot such a big name wedding, and I’ve never shot a wedding period. I’m getting a crash course in lighting, camera use, and any other tiny tidbit that she can think of as we go through the afternoon. By the end of the night my brain is swelling with information, as well as an ever present swelling a little lower. Just looking at her move in her tiny shorts and crazy hair makes me want her. She doesn’t even know how beautiful she is, always pulling at her shirt to adjust it, or redoing her messy hair to make it look like she meant for it to be insane. I love every fucking bit of it, too. This is all so new to me, but if love really does grow like so many people say, I look forward to the future when I love her more than now, if that’s even humanly possible.

  Molly has some things around the office to finish up, but it’s getting late and I can tell she’s getting hungry. Hangry’s more like it. I head back to the house, stopping by the store on the way, to make the only dinner I really know how to cook. Mom’s spaghetti. Mom’s specialty and one thing she made her kids learn before they left the house to move on into the big mean world.

  On the porch is another box, much like the ones we’ve been unpacking, but it’s unmarked. Strange. Molly’s been insane with making sure my shit has labels on it. I’ve had to commission Eddie to help out at my place just to make sure things are done correctly. There shouldn’t be an unmarked box anywhere around. Alert on high now due to my father’s training to be suspicious of everything out of the norm, I look around before picking up the box and carefully taking it inside. It isn’t heavy, but I know that doesn’t matter. Sometimes the most dangerous things barely weigh anything.

  I turn on the side table light, just enough to light up the room but not enough to alert anyone on the outside that I’m home, just in case someone’s watching. I set the box on the coffee table and sit on the couch preparing myself to open it. An awful feeling is settling into the pit of my stomach and when I open the box I almost lose it.

  One lone, dirty, baby blanket lie in the bottom of the box and takes my breath completely away from me.

  It was his. It was in his carrier when she ripped him out of my world. So small, so helpless. Tears stream down my face and land on my arm resting on the table before I know I’m even crying. The blanket’s so soft, I still remember him wrapped up in it while he laid unresponsive in the hospital. The hole in my heart that had started to heal rips open at the awful memories the blanket brought back. It feel like I can’t breathe, like there’s something sitting on my chest, a burning that won’t cool down.

  Sadness is suddenly replaced with anger; burning rage. Who the hell would do this? I was adamant that every trace of a child be wiped clean. Nothing was to be left to remind me of what I lost. Hell I left a great life because I didn’t even want the knowing stares and sympathy! Some parents that lose their child keep everything just as it was the last time their child touched it. Some never make their beds, dust their rooms, or change décor. I’m the total opposite. The therapists said everyone grieves differently, and that there’s nothing wrong with my form of grieving. I just don’t want to be reminded of it.

  Now some asshole decides to pull this? Who the fuck kept my sons blanket? And why the hell did they just now decide to leave it on Molly’s front porch? What does she have to do with any of this?

  Going into survival mode, I put the blanket back in the box and stash it in my office behind other boxes that I needed to unpack. Molly doesn’t need to know about this. It has nothing to do with her, and she already has enough on her plate to worry about. I make sure the doors are all locked and blinds closed, then I go about my night preparing dinner for the woman I love. All the while my brain is working it’s hardest to figure out what the fuck that was all about.

  Setting the table, I notice a notecard on the floor next to the coffee table. Facing up are the words “revenge” in letters that seem to be scribbled frantically. The other side kills me:

  Life only means something when you have loved ones to share it with.

  The breath rushes out of me as I read the note over and over. The room no longer exists, I can’t smell the smells of the dinner I’m preparing. All that I can see are the words on the page in front of me. What the fuck? I’m trained in all types of physical contact and fighting matters, but when it comes to this psychological bullshit I’ve got nothing. Fuck mind games.

  The door opens and I quickly put the note in my pocket and return to the stove to finish up dinner. Trouble seems to follow my girl around, and the last thing I need is to have her wrapped up in more danger. She already is in enough when it comes to the Delany family.

  “Hey babe” she purrs as her arms wraps around me. “Smells wonderful.”

  I haven’t cooked for her yet so tonight will be the test. No sane person can turn down my mother’s spaghetti. We sit down to eat, making small talk about the wedding this weekend. My mind’s racing but I have to keep my cool, there’s enough on her plate to make her worry about this. I need to call my father.

  The noises that come out of her while she’s finishing up her massive plate of carbs are enough to make me need to adjust my pants. This woman can even make eating erotic. Jesus. At least I know she enjoyed it. Anyone who doesn’t like my mom’s spaghetti is bat-shit crazy.

  Molly

  Damn he can cook. He claims this is the only meal he really knows how to make, but I would beg to differ. I need to thank his mother if I ever meet her. Tatum’s been weird ever since I got home. I feel terrible for keeping my secret from him, but I can’t spread any hope until I know for a fact. I still don’t even know how he’s going to react, hell he could be pissed and leave me to raise this baby on my own. Not that it would make me love it any less, but I’d rather wait a little bit… wait and feel things out… before telling him.

  Before my thoughts start to run away from me my work phone rings. Tatum grabs it before me and
I hear him answer professionally, then his face gets tight and he holds the phone out for me.

  “It’s for you,” he states, then stomps away to leave me wondering what the hell just happened.

  “Hello, this is Molly.”

  “Molly, wonderful to hear your voice, this is Rob.” What the hell? It’s 8pm, why is he calling me this late?

  “How can I help you, Mr. Delany?” I sigh. Something tells me this man is going to be harder to please than I originally thought. Why is he so serious about his cousins wedding pictures?

  “I was hoping to meet with you. I need to speak with you and you alone about something that I’m not comfortable speaking about over the phone.”

  Ugh.

  “Can it wait until tomorrow? It is late and we have a busy week.”

  “No.”

  Wow, that’s it. No explanation.

  “Well then, okay. Where are we meeting?”

  He rattles off an address, a 24 hour coffee shop, and hangs up promptly. Shit, I really wanted to go to bed. This nausea’s been eating at me all day.

  “Tatum!” I yell up the stairs.

  He comes to the top, not speaking, obviously trying to calm himself. What the hell has gotten into him tonight? Maybe it’s a good thing I’m leaving him alone tonight. Maybe I’ll pick him up some Midol on the way home, which should help his man-period symptoms that he’s been stalking around house tonight with.

  “Hey, that was Rob. Something came up and he needs to meet to talk about something urgent tonight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I’m going with you.” He decides without asking and starts to walk down the stairs. I could feel the nausea rolling through my stomach, damn nerves. Damn baby. NO… not damn baby. Happy thoughts.

  “I’m not sure that’s what he meant when he called me. He made sure to mention he needed to talk to specifically me. Something’s going on that he’s uncomfortable with, and I can’t lose this client because they aren’t comfortable with me. Please, stay here and I’ll be back soon.” Come on stomach, why always in front of him?

 

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