Taken By The Heart (4 Contemporary Romance Novellas)

by Sierra Rose

  My breath hitched in my throat.

  “Ashly?”

  “I-I don’t know.” My heart was beating a million times a minute. “He’s not coming,” I repeated, my voice barely able to tremble out the words.

  She gripped my shaking hands. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s pulling the plug on our wonderful life,” I barely choked out, “and he just told me to never contact him again.”

  “That’s crazy,” she retorted. “Why?”

  “He says he can’t…that he’s not ready,” I gasped between sobs. “I feel like I’ve just been hit by a semi, and I didn’t even see it coming!”

  “He’s despicable!” Nadia shouted, pulling me into a close embrace.

  Emotion flooded through me, more like a monsoon this time, and I let out a sob so loud I was sure the entire church had heard it. I’d never felt pain and grief rip through me like that. How could he dump me at the altar? He couldn’t have told me this last night, before all the guests came, before I got all dressed up like some stupid fairytale princess in this ridiculous dress? Who needs all these beads and lace anyway?

  I shouted. I cursed. I cried. He was everything I wanted and more, and now I’d never have him.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Brides are supposed to run away, not grooms! Didn’t he ever see that Julia Roberts movie?

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I fell into a pit of despair as my world crashed down around me. I couldn’t help wondering what the heck had happened. We’d seen each other the night before, and everything had seemed fine, perfect as always. As usual, we couldn’t stop staring into each other’s eyes. When we talked about the wedding, he’d seemed more excited than me. As a matter of fact, it was all he talked about, and he said more than once that he couldn’t wait to see me in my wedding dress. I thought we shared such a deep connection, that we’d forever be madly in love. Why would he just throw it all away? For what? Why? And why won’t he even talk to me about it?

  “Nadia,” I said, sniffling.

  “Yeah? What is it, sweetie?”

  “I’ve changed my mind. This is the absolute worst day of my life.”

  * * *

  Weeks passed, and I continued to mourn my loss of Jake. Every breath and movement took effort. Some days, the pain was so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t function, and couldn’t control the tears. No one understood what I was going through, but everyone tried to be of some comfort on the rough days, and I appreciated that. On other days, I felt like I could manage. I hardly ate and woke up in cold sweats left over from my nightmares. I knew I’d never get over the loss of Jake dumping me, and I’d learned the hard lesson that in the blink of an eye, one’s whole world could take a swan dive; the elevator from heaven to hell was a fast-moving one. One minute, my life had been perfect. I’d been a princess with her Prince Charming. Then, in the next, I was a damsel in distress all over again. How will I ever move forward? I wondered. My heart was torn.

  Sometimes the grief was so paralyzing that I had to remind myself to breathe. I knew there was no roadmap to get me through the throes of pain, but I hated that it hurt so damn much and for so damn long.

  “I love you, Jake…and I miss you,” I whispered. “Not a minute goes by when I don’t think about you,” I muttered, recalling his beautiful face, those captivating features that I missed so much.

  Everyone told me it would get easier in time, but it hadn’t—not after all those weeks. Knowing I’d never feel Jake’s touch, see his beaming smile, or hear his laugh again was almost unbearable. I missed the way he said my name, and it pained me that I wouldn’t feel his hand in mine. I’d never be able to look into his beautiful blue eyes again. There would be no more romantic dinners under the stars, no more slow dances, no more romantic birthday celebrations. All of that had been stolen away from me, leaving a giant, gaping hole in my heart.

  I could still hear his voice in my head, could still feel his touch. It was something like that old country song I’d heard on the radio somewhere: I couldn’t stop loving him. I simply didn’t have the strength. As I went through his clothes, I could still smell him. All of my senses told me that he was right there in that room with me, that nothing had changed, but it had. It had all changed for the worst.

  Chapter 2

  Five years later…

  I crossed my legs and glanced out the window, watching the sheets of rain pelt the glass and the ground and the trees. I’d buried my mother three months ago, and I’d finally summoned the courage to hear the reading of her will. Losing her to cancer was like having my heart ripped out. She’d always been such a strong, guiding, domineering force in my life. Sure, she always criticized my friends, choices, and lifestyle, and she totally controlled my dad. She always nagged me for everything she found inappropriate, which was everything from fast food to a minor curse word to a skirt above the knees. In fact, she found fault with me no matter what I did, but I didn’t care. She was my mother, a damn good one, and I loved her for it. Beneath that hard exterior of hers, I knew she always had my best interests in mind, and even during her hard-fought battle with that cruel disease, she’d tried to look out for me.

  A tear slipped down my face, like the raindrops on the windowpane, as I met my lawyer’s gaze. “Can we please get started? Being here is just making all of this more painful.”

  It was seven p.m., and I’d spent the better part of the day taking high-fashion photos of glamorous models in designer gowns. I still had to review the pictures and write up the article. As a fashion journalist and photographer, I always seemed to have to take work home with me. Honestly, after the day I’d had, I just wanted to take a hot shower and curl up with a good book and an even better glass of wine—anything to take my mind off the pain and loneliness of having yet another precious person ripped out of my life. After her death, I’d cried every night and even at work in the bathroom. In the midst of those emotional meltdowns, I felt the world crashing all around me.

  My attorney looked down at his watch. “He’s late.”

  “Who’s late?” I inquired.

  “Your mother left very specific instructions, and we have to abide by them,” he said.

  I hoped he’d give me a little clue about who our mystery date was going to be, but he remained secretive and mysterious. Mr. Shelby had been my mother’s lawyer for thirty years, and she’d trusted him completely. I knew there was more to the whole thing than he was telling me, and I could tell by his nervous twitch that he was up to no good.

  “Please tell me what’s going on, Mr. Shelby,” I begged. “You know how much I hate surprises.”

  Lifting a brow, he recited robotically, “I’m sorry, Miss Roberts, but according to the terms of the decedent’s Last Will and Testament, I am not permitted to mention his name.”

  “But who else would she include? All of her closer friends and the rest of my relatives have already received whatever she bequeathed them. I thought I was the only one left.”

  He picked up a file and smiled a grin that looked even faker than his toupee. “Please just be patient a while longer.”

  My mind raced with questions. I was really the closest person to my mother. My father had died two years earlier from a heart attack, and I had no siblings. My mother had been a lonely child, so I just didn’t get it. We were just a small, close-knit family, so it didn’t make sense that she’d brought in an outsider.

  Mr. Shelby looked at me. “You may want to check your face. It seems your mascara is running.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, excuse me for crying. This is very difficult for me.”

  “That’s understandable,” he said softly, sounding surprisingly human and handing me a tissue.

  I pulled out my compact and stared in the little round mirror at my bloodshot hazel eyes. I looked so tired and beat. I used the tissue to wipe the blackish-gray rivers from my cheeks and to touch up my raccoon eyes with the Samsonites under them, then fixed the lon
g brown strands of hair that had insisted on falling out of my French braid. Fortunately, my clothing had stayed pretty much intact; I’d opted for a long-sleeved, covered placket blouse tucked neatly into fashionable black slacks.

  A knock on the door made me glance up, eager to see who we’d been waiting for.

  “Come in,” the lawyer said.

  When the heavy walnut door creaked open, my jaw dropped. There, standing before me, was my high school sweetheart, though he somehow looked like a stranger. Speechless, I stared at his beautiful face. His rain-soaked black locks fell around his shoulders in silken ebony waves. My eyes slid up his towering body, gliding over his high cheekbones and the dark stubble shading his sharp jaw.

  I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My breath froze in my throat, and my stomach clenched. The last time I’d seen the man was when he’d stood me up on my wedding day, five years prior. Now, all that loneliness rushed right to my head again, leaving me lightheaded. All over again, I felt like that broken girl in the fluffy white gown, shooing guests away from the ceremony that was not meant to be. I had no idea how to react to such an unexpected intrusion. I couldn’t breathe, and the attorney’s office seemed to suddenly grow smaller and hotter.

  He just stood there, staring at me with those baby blues, those eyes I thought I’d spend the rest of my life getting lost in. He was casually dressed in a white T-shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders and tucked into a tight pair of jeans. He was all grown up, far more muscular than the last time I’d seen him. He was more manly, more masculine, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to punch him right in the jaw, just to make him feel the pain I’d felt on the most horrible day of my life. I’d never been more humiliated, shocked, and devastated. It had felt like a bunch of Romans had taken a battering ram and hit my stomach a thousand times. When he’d run away like a coward, when he’d abandoned me, he had, quite literally, knocked the wind right out of me.

  We’d spent days, hours, minutes, and countless seconds talking about our new life together, and it was all supposed to be perfect. We’d planned the perfect wedding and the perfect reception. I’d even found the perfect wedding gown, and Nadia had pinned up my hair and perfectly draped my dangling curls around my tiara. We were supposed to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after, but he had prevented that. I would never forget those questions that ran across my mind for months after that dreadful, embarrassing, heartbreaking day: Why wasn’t I good enough? Pretty enough? Smart enough? Sexy enough? What’s wrong with me? Aren’t I enough of a woman? I had collapsed into my mother’s arms, sobbing, and the memory of that stung all the more now that she was gone.

  “Ashly,” Jake softly said.

  As anger flooded through me, I lunged at him and slapped him in the face. “You! You betrayed my love and trust. You’re nothing but a spineless, gutless, pathetic coward, Jake! You dumped me, your fiancée, and didn’t even bother to call to check on me or see how I was,” I said sternly, hoping my slap had stung him as much as his betrayal had stung me.

  His frown deepened. “I apologize. Truly. From the bottom of my heart.”

  I just stared at him in disgust.

  “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

  “Yeah, you could say that. My mother hated you after what you did to me, so I don’t see why she’d leave you anything, and I couldn’t blame her, you lying son-of-a—”

  “Look, I’ve got no idea what I’m doing here either. I’m just as confused as you are,” he said, cutting me off.

  “If you’ll have a seat, Mr. Connors,” the attorney said, “we’ll get started.”

  My heart rate doubled, then tripled, until I thought might just burst out of my chest. Seeing him again was too much, too painful. Nausea rose from the pit of my stomach. I decided that if I had to vomit, I’d aim for Jake’s shoes. I stood and reached for my purse. “No, I don’t think I can do this. Sorry.”

  “Uh…would you like to reschedule?” Mr. Shelby asked.

  “I think that would be best,” I said, my voice cracking like an adolescent boy’s.

  As I started to walk to the door, Jake gently reached for my arm, and I shuddered from his touch. I hated that he could still make me feel that way, especially since I despised the man.

  “Please…” he begged.

  “I just can’t,” I said, throwing those dreadful words back at him, the three little words he’d spat at me on our would-have-been wedding day, instead of the “I love you” he should have said.

  “I’d like to see what your mom wanted to say to me.”

  “So let me get this straight. You’ve gone and screwed up your life, and now you’re broke, so you’re hoping my dead mother left you some expensive vase that you can pawn the second you get your hands on it?”

  “Haven’t lost that sarcastic edge, have you?” he said.

  “I’ll tell you one thing I have lost.”

  He cocked a brow, as if daring me to say it.

  “I’ve entirely lost my desire to date pretty bad boys from the wrong side of town.”

  “I’m so sorry about what I did, Ashly, but I was young and—”

  “How could you dump me like that in front of all my friends and family?” I shouted, cutting him off.

  Tired of the drama, the lawyer interrupted. “Folks, if we’re going to read the will, we must get on with it. If not, we should reschedule. I don’t feel comfortable being in the middle of this very personal argument, and I have a family obligation tonight.”

  Jake pulled a chair and motioned me to sit down.

  “Fine, but you’d better read it fast, because I can’t stand being in the room with this jerk a minute longer than I have to be.”

  Jake met the lawyer’s gaze and winced. “In case you didn’t notice, she hates me.”

  “Can you blame her?” Mr. Shelby said, much to my surprise. “You left this beautiful woman at the altar. I was there when she told all of the guests there wouldn’t be a wedding. What you did to her was…it was just deplorable.”

  “Thank you for defending my honor,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

  “Well, since it’s clear that neither of you are in my fan club, is there any way we can make this short and sweet?” Jake asked.

  “The pawn shop closed at six,” I said. “What’s your hurry?”

  “Number one. I’m a fireman with a nice sized studio, so please quit treating me like a homeless man. Number two. In case you haven’t noticed, you could cut the tension in here with a knife. Then again, I’m more worried that you’re gonna cut me with this guy’s letter opener if I’m here much longer.”

  “You never should have come back, Jake.”

  “I’m sorry if my presence upsets you.”

  “You didn’t even thank my mom for getting those assault charges dropped. Even after everything you did, my mother used her connections and helped you out. She only did that because I begged her to. I loved you so much that I couldn’t bear to see you hauled off to jail. Now, I’d like to put the cuffs on you myself and throw you in a hole where you’ll never see the light of day.”

  “I only punched that guy because he nearly tried to rape you. You know that as well as I do.”

  “Ahem.” The lawyer cleared his throat. “Are you both ready, or would you like a little bit more time to discuss things?”

  “If you don’t mind, Counselor, I’d like to talk to Ashly alone,” Jake said.

  I shook my head and vehemently proclaimed, “Not a chance!”

  Wanting to get it all over with, the attorney ignored Jake’s request and began with the proceedings. I almost tuned him out as he went over all the legalities of the will. Anger flooded through me like a stormy ocean, and I couldn’t even think straight, let alone focus. I was fuming. What is he doing here anyway? Why in the hell would my mother give him anything? She had begged me to break it off with him countless times. She’d told me constantly that he’d never amount to anything, warned me that he was a loser
, and she’d yelled at the top of her lungs, “My daughter deserves better!”

  I took a quick peek at Jake as he wiped the water from his brow. My mind drifted back to months after the breakup. I dreaded telling people I was single. Nadia encouraged me, telling me my renewed bachelorette status was going to be a fun and wonderful experience, but I only considered it a punishment, as if I’d committed some terrible crime that had pissed fate off. I was sure nobody could ever love me again. Nadia assured me that wasn’t the case, but I refused to listen. My world had crumbled and shattered all around me. Maybe if I was prettier, sexier, or smarter, Jake would’ve stuck around, I told myself. I felt upset, worthless, and beyond depressed. “What did I do that was so wrong?” I often asked. Nadia was insulted by such questions and made me write down a list of twenty-five things that I loved about myself. Learning to value and accept myself had helped with the healing process, and eventually I did feel a little bit better, but there was no therapy that could help me put my broken heart back together; Jake had, after all, taken some of the biggest pieces with him.

  “Are you listening?” he asked. “Did you hear what the man just said?”

  “What?”

  His eyes were wide in shock. “Your mother left her estate and the sum of fifty million dollars to…us.”

  “What!?” I shouted, standing back up. “Why would she leave anything to him?” I pointed to the will. “Check it again. This has to be some kind of mistake!”

  “My team and I were the ones who put it together,” my attorney said. “Your mother’s intentions were quite clear.”

  “No! My mother would never do that, not in a million years.” The room started to spin, and everything grew hotter. He handed the official documents to me. As I ran my fingers over the raised notary seal and stared down at the words and my mother’s signature, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Why?

  “She did not just flatly leave the money to him. There are some, uh…stipulations to getting the money,” my lawyer said.

  I sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. I was frazzled, confused, and discombobulated all at once. “What kind of stipulations?”