Pretty Dirty Secrets: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 3)

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t keep quiet any longer. You’re making a terrible mistake. Don’t go through with it. Everyone will understand. You don’t have to explain anything. We can just pack up and leave.” I conjured my best wheedling tone. “I’ll tell Rockwell to get a car for us.”

  After a painful pause, Sam pointed a finger in my face. “You need to straighten up. Right the fuck now. I’m going to marry Dakota. Tonight. Whether you like it or not.”

  I batted his hand away, but I still couldn’t look him in the eye. “She’s making a fool out of you. Again. Everyone knows it. Tucker. Beckett.” Once the words started, they gushed out of me. “She hasn’t changed. We all see it. Everyone but you. She’s going to marry you, pop out a kid or two, then leave and take all your money.”

  “What money?” Sam chuckled, but his eyes remained humorless. “We both know I’m broke.”

  “But you won’t be for long. You’re a genius like that. You’ll be back on top in no time.” I meant it. My father had filed bankruptcy and still had billions of dollars. Sam was smarter and shrewder than any man I knew, including my dad. “You’ll be stuck with her forever. Just wait. She’s poison. Can’t you see that?” Emboldened by my speech, I ventured further, setting all my misgivings free. “I bet she’s still in contact with Dad. You know how he is. Once he gets his claws into someone, he never lets go.” Except for me. He let go of me. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the sight of Sam’s anger. I was going to have my say whether he liked it or not.

  When I opened my eyes, Sam continued to point a finger at me. “You have no idea about any of this. What she’s been through. What our father did to her. The way he manipulated us.” The tight lines around his mouth frightened me more than his words. “You have no right to pass judgment.”

  “I have every right,” I snapped. By this time, we stood toe-to-toe, mutual fury unbridled. “You mean everything to me. And I protect what’s mine. I won’t let her ruin you again.”

  A little of the heat in Sam’s eyes dissipated. He took a step back. The air thinned between us.

  Thinking I’d won, I continued, my voice wheedling. “You know I’m right. You know it, Sam. In your heart, you have to admit it’s the truth.”

  He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I get that you’re worried. But you need to trust me. Dakota loves me, and I love her.” His tone softened. “I’m nothing without her, V. Nothing.”

  The conviction in his words tilted my world. I’d never heard Sam sound so wrecked with emotion, so convicted, and never over any other woman. Only Dakota. My stomach churned. I was losing him. And to her, of all people. “You’ll have nothing if you stay with her. She’ll ruin you.”

  “I already have nothing, and she doesn’t care.” His shoulders shook with laughter. “Do you really think I’d marry someone I can’t trust?” He studied me with somber eyes, eyes that cut through me like a laser beam.

  “You did once before.”

  “You think I’m an idiot?”

  “I think you let your dick rule your head where she’s concerned.” The accusation popped out of my mouth and hung in the air between us. Sam’s green gaze flared. I panicked. “I mean—that’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s exactly what you meant.” He shook his head. “If you felt this way, why’d you even bother coming here?” The way his jaw tensed reminded me of our father when he was angry. Solid as granite and twice as unrelenting. He walked toward the door. When he faced me again, his eyes were icy. “Here’s the deal, V. If you’re not with me, you’re against me. And if you’re against me, then I don’t want you here. The choice is yours.”

  His ultimatum struck me with the impact of a fist. I recoiled and placed a hand over my diaphragm, unable to draw breath, fighting back tears. He chose her over me. Just like my father. When Sam opened the door, Beckett stood in the hallway, fist uplifted as if about to knock. He dropped his hand, and his gaze travelled from me to Sam and back again.

  “Everything okay in here?” Beckett asked.

  “That goes for you, too, Beckett,” Sam said. “With me or against me?”

  Beckett lifted his hands, showing his palms. “I’m with you, man. Always. All the way. Balls to the wall.”

  Sam pushed past him and disappeared in the direction of the dining room. Beckett stared at me. From beyond his broad shoulders, I caught the shocked glances of Rockwell, Mrs. Atwell, and Dakota. Tucker’s mouth gaped open. He shut it with a snap and dropped his gaze to his empty plate. Crockett smirked. It was going to be a very long day.

  Playing witness to my brother’s wedding was going to be much more difficult than I anticipated. For some reason, I’d been under the misguided notion that I could hang out with Sam and Dakota while remaining detached from the significance of the event. After our little run-in, I began to think otherwise. Sam was making a mistake of epic proportions. I couldn’t stand by and watch him remarry that traitorous bitch. The first time, I’d been too young to understand, but now I comprehended the ramifications all too well.

  I splashed my face with water then wandered out a side door and down a narrow gravel path. Gnarled branches dripped with Spanish moss. The humidity bordered on unbearable. Near the stream’s edge, a wooden swing swayed in the breeze, suspended from a huge tree by ropes as thick as my wrists. I took a seat and tried to steady my thoughts. At the crunch of footsteps on the gravel, I glanced up to find Beckett rounding the curve of the path.

  “Hey.” He vibrated to a stop and glanced over his shoulder as if looking for a means of escape. When he caught a glimpse of my face, his expression softened. “What are you doing?”

  “Swinging,” I replied. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a place to smoke. The whole grounds are non-smoking.” He fished in the pocket of his khaki shorts and came back with a battered box of Camels and a silver Zippo. He placed the filter between full lips, flicked the lighter, then cupped his hands around the cigarette to shelter it from the breeze.

  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

  “Wish I didn’t,” he said and sighed. “I keep trying to quit.”

  “Can I have one?”

  “No.” He regarded me for a second then shook his head and handed his cigarette to me, filter first. “Since when do you smoke?”

  “Since now.” I took a drag. The nicotine tingled on my lips, and the smoke burned my lungs. I coughed and sputtered until he pounded me on the back.

  “Give me that.” He snatched the cigarette from my grasp and scowled before lifting it back to his lips. “What’s wrong with you?” Twin plumes of smoke drifted from his nostrils and dissipated in the air between us. “Jesus, that’s all I need. If Sam found out I turned you into a smoker, he’d really have my ass.”

  “I think that’s the least of your worries, given what you did to me last night.” I bit back a smirk at the twin patches of red in his cheeks.

  “Don’t remind me,” he groaned. He flicked ashes onto the gravel with an expert twitch of his thumb.

  “Could you be a little less enthusiastic?” I grumbled. “My ego can’t take it.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” The smooth baritone of his voice lessened the sting of his words. “I’m sure it was…delightful.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Delightful? Seriously?” A pair of swans glided past us, buoyed by the current of the stream and disappeared around the bend. “The ballet is delightful. Newborn babies are delightful.”

  He sighed, leaned his back against a tree, long legs crossed at the ankle, and regarded me. “I really am sorry, V.”

  “Stop apologizing. You’re only making it worse,” I admonished.

  Beckett finished his cigarette, dropped it to the gravel, and ground it out with the toe of his loafer. I twisted the swing rope tightly and let it spin me in a slow circle. My heels cut a circle into the gravel as the rope unwound.

  “What was that back there anyway?” he asked.

  “How can y
ou stand by and let him go through with it?” I asked, my anger renewing.

  “It’s not my business,” Beckett said. “Or yours.”

  “If you were any kind of friend, you’d stop him,” I said, my voice climbing in pitch and volume. “You know what she did to him before.” The recollection of Dakota’s betrayal lit my temper. “She extorted money from my dad. He paid her a million dollars to divorce Sam. What kind of person does that to someone they love?”

  “You don’t know the whole story,” Beckett said, his voice as calm as mine was wild. “Only Sam and Dakota know the entire truth.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  Beckett shook his head while I gathered steam. His laughter scraped across my nerves. “Like anyone could stop Sam from doing what he wants. You of all people should know that. He’s going to marry her, and if you’re smart, you’ll stay out of the way. All we can do is stand by him and be there when—if—he needs us.”

  “You’re not helpful at all.” My gaze flicked up to meet his. His eyes were dark with worry. My heart squeezed. Beckett loved Sam almost as much as I did. “You don’t approve either?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “Coward,” I taunted.

  Beckett laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not cowardly. Cautious. There’s a difference. You should try it sometime.” He leaned forward and brushed a wayward strand of hair from my temple. “A little caution might do you some good.” The glide of his touch against my skin sent a small shiver down my back in spite of the heat.

  “That’s not what you said last night. Last night you were all like, Do it, Venetia. Don’t stop, Venetia,” I teased. “Did you know the tips of your ears turn red when you’re embarrassed?”

  He passed a hand over his eyes. “I blame the alcohol.”

  “You didn’t think it was a mistake last night.” I couldn’t help prodding his discomfort. “In fact, you were very enthusiastic about the whole ordeal.”

  “Really?” One of his eyebrows lifted. “So…” His voice trailed off before picking up the thought again. “How was it?”

  My gaze snapped up to his. Devilish humor danced in his eyes. Arrogant ass. It was just like a man to worry about his prowess.

  “I’m sure it was delightful,” I replied. A dimple flashed in his cheek as his face split into a smile. I let him chew on this tidbit for a second before I continued. “And you can stop with the guilt. I might have taken advantage of you in your drunken state.”

  “I doubt that.” His dark brow furrowed into a frown. “I’m the adult here—”

  “We’re both adults, Beckett.” Anger heated my face. He still regarded me as a kid. All the frustration and hurt from the day welled up inside me. A tear threatened to slide down my nose. I blinked it away. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry. The last thing I wanted was to show how deeply his words wounded me.

  “Shit.” He saw the evidence anyway. “Come here.”

  “No. I’m okay,” I said, but I didn’t push his arms away.

  “You’re not okay. Come here.” He nestled my nose into the hollow at the base of his neck. The warmth and strength of his embrace cracked the walls of my defenses, and another tear escaped. “Don’t cry, baby girl.”

  The way he said “baby girl” brought back an abrupt flash of my legs wrapped around his narrow hips, our naked flesh colliding, and his whispered endearments in my ear. Fuck me harder, baby… Put your leg here, sweetness. A twinge of lust tightened inside me. I cleared my throat and tried not to inhale the clean scent of his aftershave.

  “V. Look at me.” The touch of his fingertip to my chin brought my gaze up to his. Dark brown eyes, the color of rich coffee, dipped to my lips. The expanse of his chest pressed against my breasts with each of his breaths, which were coming quicker by the second. I leaned into his embrace.

  “Beckett?” I started to whisper his name, but his mouth crushed against my lips. His tongue swept over mine. I moaned, my furious heartbeats spurred on by the tangle of his fingers in my hair. One of his hands edged into my shorts, easing down to claim a handful of my bottom. I felt every inch of his lean body, hard thighs, the button on the fly of his shorts, and the steel behind it.

  “What are you doing?” Tucker’s voice caused us to bounce apart.

  I turned my back, fingers flying over my clothes and through my disordered hair.

  “Nothing.” Beckett’s voice sounded harsh.

  The denial stung. Again. Fool me twice, shame on me. I resolved then and there to make sure there wasn’t a third time.

  “Yeah. I’m pretty sure you were doing something.” Tucker smirked.

  “Shut up, Tucker.” I pushed past him and thundered down the trail without a backward glance. Once I rounded the corner, I found a quiet bench, sat down, and tried to quiet the trembling of my hands.

  Chapter 5

  Beckett

  “DO MY eyes deceive me, or were you just shoving your tongue down young Venetia’s throat?” Tucker leaned against a tree and waited for an answer.

  I couldn’t reply, too rattled by the taste of champagne and orange juice on Venetia’s tongue, the sweet smell of her perfume, and the soft slide of her hair through my fingers. God, in that moment, I’d wanted her. No. Not wanted. Desired. The kiss brought back a dozen memories from the night before. Venetia naked. Her honeyed thighs parted while I sank deep inside her. A tangle of bedsheets wrapped around her waist, high breasts peeking over the linen, taunting me to touch, knead, suck.

  “I fucked up, Tucker,” I said. “Royally.”

  “You didn’t.” His eyes lit up with playful excitement.

  I scrubbed a hand over my eyes and nodded. “Not a word to anyone about this. Not. One. Word. Understand me?”

  Tucker raised his hands, fingers splayed, and shook his head. “No judgment here. But can I just say you’re playing with fire, my friend.”

  Didn’t I know it? I had no excuses for my behavior, except… Damn, she tasted good. It had been a few years since the last time I’d seen her, and she’d changed since then, in the best of ways. Her legs seemed longer, her eyes bluer, her breasts bouncier. The minute I’d taken her into my arms, I’d been a goner. All reason had left my head at the same time all the blood had rushed into my cock.

  “It’s not going to happen again,” I said, more to convince myself than Tucker.

  “Looks like it was about to,” he interjected, “if I hadn’t come along, that is.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “She was upset. I tried to comfort her.”

  “With your hands in her pants? Remind me to keep my troubles to myself next time.” His laughter scraped over my humiliation, and I winced.

  “Things got…out of control.” I turned away from him and started down the path. His footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me. Nothing could excuse my behavior. I’d stepped over the line with her for a second time. Damn my traitorous dick, and damn her beautiful big blue eyes.

  Once we returned to the house, the group gathered for a game of croquet on one of the smooth plantation lawns. I vowed to keep my distance from Venetia for the rest of the day, but my eyes kept straying back to her. Tanned legs stretched from white denim shorts. The halter top revealed a strip of toned, taut skin above the waistband of her shorts. She’d twisted her blond hair high atop her head in an artful mess. The ends fluttered and danced around her temples when the wind picked up.

  Sam, Dakota, and Crockett squared up against Tucker, Venetia, and me. The rest of the group drank lemonade and mint juleps from shaded tables around the perimeter of the playing field.

  What should’ve been a civilized, sedate game quickly devolved into no-holds-barred warfare. Venetia and Sam were ruthlessly competitive. When her ball landed against Dakota’s, I braced for the worst. Venetia placed a foot on top of her ball and with a well-placed thwack sent Dakota’s ball soaring into the distant underbrush.

  “Yes. Take that,” Venetia lifted her arm and mallet
into the air triumphantly. She sashayed in a circle, shaking her round bottom in a victory dance worthy of an NFL quarterback. I choked back a laugh.

  From ten paces away, I saw Sam bristle. He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t encourage her.” To Dakota, he said, “Stay there. I’ll get it.”

  “No. It’s fine. I’ll get it.” Dakota placed a hand on his forearm.

  “There might be snakes in there,” he replied, and glared at his sister. “Venetia can get it.”

  “Like hell,” Venetia muttered.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, having experienced the wrong side of a Seaforth temper a time or two myself, eager to avoid the drama.

  “No one’s going to get it,” Dakota shouted in a rare show of irritation. “It’s my ball.” She stomped into the thicket of weeds.

  Sam ghosted her footsteps, muttering curses.

  “I don’t know about you, but that one scares me a little.” Tucker nodded at Venetia before driving his ball toward the wicket for a point.

  “She’s a handful, that’s for sure,” I replied, letting my gaze drift over her once more. She stood in a beam of sunlight, dappled by the branches overhead. One hand rested on her hip while the other shaded her eyes to observe her opponents. Watching her, I knew exactly why I was so attracted. She was different, more intense, more confident, more beautiful…just more than I remembered. A year in Italy with one of Milan’s most influential interior designers had served her well. As a Seaforth, she was destined for success. It flowed through her veins and DNA. I had no doubts she’d become as powerful and influential as her father and brother, given enough time.

  “I pity the man who tries to tame her,” Tucker said.

  “I could do it.” For some reason, the thought of her with someone else didn’t sit well. My fingers curled into fists at the idea of another man, any man, touching her.

  Tucker lifted an eyebrow. I coughed and cleared my throat. “Better bring some spurs, cowboy,” he said and clapped a hand on my shoulder.