“We need to talk this through.” He stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders. “Wait here, would you? I need to finish this meeting and then we can talk it out.”
I nodded and watched him leave, uneasy about the shift in dynamic between us. To calm my nerves, I paced around his office, studying the artwork and the framed diplomas near the door. He had a bachelor’s degree in architecture and a master’s in business. There were various awards and certificates there as well. Pride filled me. He’d done well, my Sam.
An hour passed. I sat in the big leather chair behind his desk, touched all of his desk accessories, and sent text messages to my mother and Muriel. After awhile, I grew bored and decided to make a grocery list. I rifled through the top drawer of his desk for a notepad and pen. And that was when I saw it. A plain manila envelope with my name on it.
I shut the drawer and tried to pretend it wasn’t there. I made a list of all the things I needed to restock my refrigerator: milk, eggs, cereal, and a dozen other items. Finally, I gave in and withdrew the envelope. I would just take a peek. It had my name on it, after all.
I undid the clasp and drew out a stack of papers. A dossier of everything I’d done over the past ten years spilled onto the desk. A sheet of paper outlined each of my former employers, along with detailed salary information, former places of residence, and financial data. This disturbed me on a number of levels, but it was the photographs that made me sick to my stomach. Photos of my college graduation. Grainy snapshots of me at bars and clubs. A second sheet of paper listed every guy I’d ever dated, their addresses and occupations. The business card paper-clipped to the top bore the name of a local detective agency.
Sam had been following me for years. He was still having me followed. The last report was dated a few weeks ago and had pictures of a shopping expedition with my mother, eating dinner at a Chinese restaurant, and walking along the street afterward.
In a daze, I put the papers back in the folder and fastened the clasp. I returned it to the top drawer and closed it. My actions were slow and controlled, but my thoughts whirled through my head in a chaotic mess. He’d asked about where I’d been and what I’d done during those ten years, but he’d known all along. I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or horrified by his invasion into my privacy.
I drew in a deep breath and tried to sort my emotions. As the shock abated, hurt replaced it. Why hadn’t he told me about this? For the past two months, I’d been fighting to prove I’d changed, to prove he could trust me. Consumed by the battle, I’d overlooked one very essential fact. He’d changed. We’d both become very different people. I was willing to overlook his arrogance, his bossiness, and his need to challenge me at every turn. No matter how much I cared for him, I couldn’t be with a man who didn’t respect or trust me.
Our entire relationship had been a tangled mess of pretty, filthy lies. Some of them his. Some his father’s. Some mine. I needed time to think, to sort the truths from the deceptions, and I couldn’t do it there. Before I could talk myself out of it or make excuses for Sam’s behavior, I gathered my things and left.
Chapter 33
Sam
IT TOOK two hours to sort things out with the board, but in the end, we came up with a solution that satisfied everyone. I resigned as CEO. Beckett would take over until they could decide whether to reorganize or dissolve. I walked out of the conference room lighter and happier than I had in ten years. As I returned to my office, I pulled the necktie from my shirt and unbuttoned my collar.
Dakota was right. I didn’t need to ruin my father. Eventually, he would ruin himself. He’d end up alone with his piles of money and no one to share it with. If I continued the head games, I would end up just like him. By removing myself from the playing field, he held no power over me.
Somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself, lost sight of the man I wanted to be and the things that made life worth living. Like Dakota. She was the beacon of light at the end of a tunnel filled with darkness. I wanted to be a better man for her. From the first day we’d met, she saw only the good in me when no one else cared to look. It was the reason I’d fallen in love with her on a warm spring day during our senior year of high school. It was the reason I’d married her, and the reason I’d ask her to marry me again when the time was right. Because I did love her. I’d always loved her and always would.
I opened the door to my office, eager to start living the rest of my life with her, only to find the room empty. Xavier entered behind me, arms full of documents and files for me to sign.
“Have you seen, Ms. Atwell?” I asked, fighting back the distress swelling inside me.
“Yes. I saw her get in a taxi about twenty minutes ago,” he said and dropped the files onto the table beside my desk.
“Did she say where she was going?” I scanned the desk for a note. Finding nothing, I checked my phone for a voice mail or text.
“No. Not a word.” Xavier frowned, immaculate brows drawing together over his slim nose. “Would you like Mrs. Cantrell to get her on the phone?”
And then I saw it. The corner of the manila envelope sticking out of my desk drawer, the drawer I usually kept locked, the one with my father’s blackmail folder inside it.
Chapter 34
Dakota
A TAXI met me on the front steps of Infinity. The weight of the day descended once I settled into the back seat of the cab. Sam didn’t trust me. I saw the truth with painful clarity. Nothing I ever did would rebuild his trust. There would always be some doubt in the back of his mind, and it would always come between us. Not that it mattered any more. I sure as hell didn’t trust him. I was in love with the Sam of my past, not the vindictive, mistrustful man he’d become.
Tears burned my eyes and throat. I held them back, not only for the cabbie’s sake, but for my own. Once I let them loose, they might never shut off.
The driver dropped me at the curb of my apartment. I trudged upstairs, too tired to think any longer, eager for a hot shower followed by a long nap and a glass of wine. The door of my apartment door was unlocked and slightly ajar. Fear jumbled the last of my common sense. Someone had broken into my place. What if the person remained in there? In all the murder mysteries I’d ever seen on TV, the victim ventured into their burgled home to find the culprit inside. My luck had been in a downward spiral all day. I decided not to chance it, called 9-1-1, and waited in the downstairs lobby instead.
The police arrived within thirty minutes. For the next hour, I had to list all the missing items: TV, microwave, laptop, tablet, some jewelry, small kitchen appliances, and a wad of cash I’d kept hidden in a jar in the bathroom. For the hour following, I had to recount all the people who had access to my apartment as well anyone who’d been there in the previous weeks.
“The lock on your door isn’t broken,” the officer said. “Whoever did this had a key.”
“No one has a key but me,” I said. “I just had the locks changed two weeks ago.” I’d been too busy to give my mother the spare. It was tucked in the top drawer of my desk. Or was it? I didn’t want to look, entrenched firmly in denial of the obvious culprit. Blood pounded through my temples. I placed a hand on my chest, unable to draw a full breath, filled with anguish.
“What about boyfriends or relatives?” The officer was a kindly man who reminded me of my late father, barrel-chested and world-weary. I shook my head. He pressed on. “Usually, when I see this kind of thing, it’s someone you trust. We’ve already checked with the manager. He hasn’t let anyone in.”
I knew in my head it was Crockett, but my heart denied it. “No. There’s no one.”
Meanwhile, my phone buzzed with a plethora of incoming calls and texts from Sam. I silenced the ringer and finally shoved the phone into a drawer. He was the least of my worries for now.
The police had only been gone a few minutes when someone pounded on my door.
Sam stood in the hall, dressed in a green Henley with the sleeves pushed up over his forearms and dark blue jeans
, looking more handsome than should be legal. He had a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder. One hand raked through his hair, lines of concern etched on his face. When he saw me, his shoulders sagged, and he exhaled loudly.
“Are you okay?” he asked. His gaze roamed over me, desperate for reassurance. “I saw the police down the hall, and I freaked out.” He stepped toward me, as if intending to pull me into his embrace.
I stepped out of his reach and shook my head. If he touched me, I would melt and forget all the reasons I was angry with him. “I’m fine. Someone broke in.” I waved a hand toward the wreckage of the living room.
“Thank God you’re okay,” he said. “Do they know who it was? How did they get in?”
“I don’t know.” Under normal circumstances, I would’ve poured out all my suspicions about Crockett, but the information lodged in my head and refused to come out. Sam was a stranger. I’d been married to him, made love to him, and shared the most intimate parts of my life with him, but I no longer knew or trusted the man he’d become.
“Why didn’t you call me?” He took a step toward the door.
I put a hand on his chest, gentle but firm, and kept him at bay. “I don’t think so.” My chest constricted, collapsing in on itself, caused by the vacuum where my heart had been. In this moment, with my apartment ransacked by my brother and my ex-husband on my threshold, I’d never felt more betrayed or more devastated.
Chapter 35
Sam
OVER THE years, I’d learned to read people well. Dakota had always been something of an open book. She never tried to hide her feelings. All I had to do was look into her aquamarine eyes. What I saw there made my palms sweat and my fingers curl into fists. Or should I say, it was what I didn’t see that unnerved me.
“I can’t deal with you right now,” she said. Her flat, unfamiliar voice chilled me to the bone. “I’m tired and it’s been a long day.”
She stared into the hall past my shoulder. I watched her with a growing sense of panic. If she shut the door, I might never get another chance to explain. Working things out seemed more important than anything else in my fucked-up life.
“You can’t stay here.” I dropped the messenger bag on a chair and planted myself in the middle of the room. “What if they come back?”
By the widening of her eyes, she hadn’t thought of that. She wrapped her arms around her waist. I could sense the possibilities shuffling through her mind. “No. It’s okay. They got what they wanted.” She glanced away again. Her face was pale, her figure small, delicate. I wanted to take her into my arms, stroke her hair, and make all her problems go away.
“I insist.” I pushed past her, enjoying her small snort of irritation. “Look, if you won’t leave, then I’ll stay. We can order in a pizza, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
The door slammed behind me. “You can’t just barge in here, Sam. What part of no do you not understand?”
“Pretty much all of it.” I righted the overturned coffee table and took a seat on the sofa. “What kind of pizza do you want?”
A low growl erupted from the girl. She closed her eyes, and I knew from previous experience that she was counting to ten. When she opened her eyes, they simmered with hurt and frustration. “I saw the file, Sam,” she said, her voice low and shaking. “It made me sick. All this time you’ve been watching me. That’s something your father would do.”
“Here.” I pulled the manila envelope from my messenger bag and handed it to her. “It was delivered to my office a few weeks ago. A present from my dad. I never looked at it.” She didn’t take it, so I let it drop onto the coffee table. “You can keep it.”
“Why should I believe you?” With her arms crossed over her chest and eyes narrowed, she’d never been more beautiful to me. This girl I could handle. As long as she was mad at me, she still cared.
“Because I’ve never lied to you.”
“You said you’d take care of Harmony and you didn’t.”
“Jesus. Are we back to that again?” I sank further into the cushions and curbed the urge to swear. “Business is business, Kota. Get over it.”
“Apparently, you aren’t very good at it.” She sank into the chair across from me, nose tilted into the air.
“You did not just go there.”
We glared at each other for the space of a few heartbeats. She infuriated me, exasperated me, and thrilled me in equal measure. Even when we were angry at each other, it felt right to me. I loved to fight with her because it made making up so much better.
“What are you going to do about MacGruder?” she asked.
“I called him on the way over here. We tabled the deal for now.” I waited for her reaction, uncertain which direction her thoughts might take. I decided to plunge headlong into the unknown. I’d come this far. There was no reason to stop now. “And I resigned as CEO from Infinity. I’m done.”
“Oh.” Her lips formed a perfect circle with the word. Blood thundered in my ears while I waited for her to process what I’d said. She rubbed her palms on her thighs like she was nervous. “So what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged and reached across the breach between us to grab her hand. “I thought you might be able to help me figure it out.”
Chapter 36
Dakota
THAT NIGHT we ate too much pizza and fell asleep on the couch. I had to admit, it felt right to have him there. In the morning, with swatches of sunlight pouring into the apartment, Sam helped me clean up the disorder of the previous day. We didn’t talk about the future or our relationship. We just moved from moment to moment, clinging to the fragile threads that held us together.
I didn’t know what to make of the current state of our affairs. He seemed sincere about the dossier, and my gut said I could believe him. My heart had already forgiven him. It was my head that couldn’t wrap around the situation.
Our relationship was so unconventional. It defied all the rules. We fell in love. We married. We divorced. Where did that leave us now? How did someone rebuild a relationship that was so utterly broken?
“What’s this for?” Sam held up a rubber chicken key chain, silver key winking in the light.
“It’s my spare key,” I said and took it from him. “Where did you find it?”
“It fell out of your desk drawer. Is that where it goes?”
I couldn’t answer. Tears of relief spilled over my cheeks. I sank onto the nearest chair and pillowed my face in my hands.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Sam kneeled in front of me and tried to pull my hands away from my face.
I shook my head, embarrassed by the outburst and unable to stop it. “I thought it was Crockett,” I said when I could catch my breath. I folded my hands in my lap and stared at them as a new and unsettling thought occurred. “I suppose it could still be him. Maybe he had a copy made. Or he could’ve put it back before he left. I can’t even trust my own brother.”
Sam brushed the tears away with his fingers. “It wasn’t Crockett.”
“He’s done this kind of thing before.” Anger and frustration tensed the muscles in my forehead. I felt a headache coming on. “I’m so stupid. When will I ever learn that I can’t trust him?”
“Kota, look at me.” He covered my hands with his, warm and familiar. “It wasn’t Crockett.”
“You don’t know that.” His green eyes held mine as I rambled. “He’s been getting worse and worse. Always lying. I don’t know what to do with him anymore.”
“Crockett’s in rehab. The center called me yesterday to update his status. He couldn’t have done it.”
“Why would they call you?” He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Rehab centers didn’t take charity cases. Someone must have paid Crockett’s fee. I knew without asking that it had been Sam. Even in the wake of his financial crisis, he had found the money to help me.
Our eyes met. I cupped his cheek, savoring the familiar scratch of stubble against my palm. He turned his face
into my hand and placed a kiss in the center.
“Why?” I asked, my voice cracking over the single syllable.
“Because I knew it would make you happy,” he said.
Chapter 37
Dakota
A WEEK later, the red Porsche rounded the street corner and raced in my direction. Whether I was eighteen or thirty, the sight of Sam’s blond hair blowing in the wind always affected me in the same way. My breath came short and my heart kicked against my ribs. I raised a hand to pull the clip from my hair to let it tumble down my back, knowing he liked it that way.
He parked at the curb in front of me and swung the door open. “Get in,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
“You’re late,” I replied as I slid into the bucket seat.
“And you’re a pain in my ass,” he said, “but I like you anyway.”
We shared a smile. His eyes fell to my lips. He leaned in, the smell of his cologne spicy and sweet. My heart lurched. Our mouths hovered a millimeter apart, savoring the anticipation of meeting. When he kissed me, the taste of peppermint tingled on my tongue.
“I’ve been standing on the street for a half hour,” I said the instant we parted. His lips were red with my lipstick, slightly swollen, and moist.
“Jesus, woman. Give me a break, would you?” With a rev of the engine, the car leaped into the street. He shot a sideways glance in my direction, green eyes assessing. “You said the corner of Fifty-Third and Belmont. This is Fifty-Third and Belleview.”
“No. I did not.” I frowned, replaying our earlier conversation in my head, certain I was in the right. “You never listen. If you listened, you would’ve been here on time.”
Pretty Filthy Lies: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 2) Page 15