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

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Pretty Dirty Secrets: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 3) Page 21

by Jeana E. Mann


  The blackout window slid silently down and Maxwell’s face loomed through the opening. “Oh for God’s sake, Venetia. I don’t have all day. Get in the car.”

  At his command, the little girl inside me, the one who’d craved his approval and attention for so many years, snapped to attention. The driver opened the door, and I entered into the darkness.

  I stared at the stranger—my father—across from me in his impeccable custom suit. A thrill of nerves tremored inside me. I clasped my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking. The loose folds of my trench coat hid my belly. He was on the phone, speaking in rapid-fire German, green eyes locked on mine. After an interminable minute, he ended the call and returned my stared.

  My calm snapped. Enough already. I’d spent my entire life fearing this man, yearning for one word of kindness from him, anything to show he cared. By the set of his jaw and the dispassionate light in his eyes, nothing had changed.

  “What’s up?” I asked, my composure returning. “Why the secrecy?”

  “No secrecy,” he said. “Can I drop you somewhere?” Maxwell lowered the partition dividing us from the chauffeur.

  “Yes. My apartment, please.” After I gave my address to the driver, Maxwell lifted the partition, isolating us once more. The car pulled away from the curb. I smoothed my skirt over my legs and drew on Beckett’s image to bolster my confidence. “What do you want?” Maxwell had to want something. The man didn’t waste his time with anyone or anything unless he had an agenda.

  “Direct.” He nodded, the first approval I’d ever gotten from him. “Good.” He withdrew a sheaf of folders from his briefcase and set them on the seat next to his leg. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve reached your twenty-third birthday.”

  I nodded, wondering where he was headed with this line of conversation. “A few months ago. Thanks for noticing.”

  “Don’t be snide, Venetia. It’s unbecoming.” He cleared his throat. “You should be in full possession of your trust and the portion of your mother’s estate left to you by her will.” The formality of his tone turned my blood to ice. “I need you to know that you’ll no longer receive a monthly stipend from my account, and this conversation terminates my obligation to you.”

  “W-what?” I stammered, stunned by his statement. I didn’t care about the money. Fuck the money. The blatant dismissal, however, stung like a dagger to the gut. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your mother humiliated me with her affairs.” My jaw dropped. He frowned. “I chose to look the other way most of the time, but when she got pregnant by another man, it was the last straw. I agreed to raise the child—you—as my own as long as she kept you out of my sight. My obligation to you ended when you received the full benefit of your trust.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you saying?” Tears of betrayal and hurt blurred my vision. I blinked them back, unwilling to let him see how much he wounded me.

  “I’m saying you’re not a Seaforth. You’re not my child. I don’t have any further responsibility to you, and I’m severing our relationship.” By this time, the car had reached my building. The driver eased into the drop off zone by the front door and put the car in park. Maxwell stared at me, unblinking.

  “If you’re not my father, who is?” I asked, still trying to wrap my mind around this painful revelation.

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. For all I know, it was the gardener or maybe Rockwell. I always suspected they had a thing.”

  I placed a hand over my belly and tried to ignore the sting of tears. Maxwell wasn’t my father. If I wasn’t a Seaforth, then who was I? I felt adrift, the sudden loss of my identity a deep and penetrating blow. “Why are you telling me this? Why now?” I managed to ask.

  “I had to rework my will to include Rayna.” He tugged on his cuffs before adjusting his tie. “I’ve listed the manor house for sale. I put your mother’s things in a storage building outside of town. I’ll have the key sent over to you.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. In the space of fifteen minutes, he’d stolen everything I knew about myself—my name, my heritage, and the shape of my world.

  “I need your signature on these documents.” He withdrew a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket and held it in front of me. I blinked. “Venetia.” He wiggled the pen. “I haven’t got all day.”

  Through the haze of shock, common sense prevailed. I shook my head. “I’m not signing anything until I have my lawyer look these over.”

  One corner of his mouth curled up. He nodded. “Very good. Smart girl. Have someone take a look at them and get them back to me by next Friday. If you have any questions, you can ask Beckett.”

  “Beckett?” My stomach turned over. “Why him?” I couldn’t process his words fast enough. Beckett knew about this? He knew I wasn’t Maxwell’s daughter? Pain sliced through my chest, so severe I reeled back into the plush leather seat.

  “Yes. He’s the one who drew up the documents.” Maxwell sighed, as if he’d grown weary of the effort required to speak with me. He raised a hand and rapped on the window of the limo. The chauffeur opened the door. Bright light spilled into the dark interior of the car. I sat motionless, too confused to move. Maxwell waved a hand like he was shooing a stray dog. “Go on. Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

  I stumbled onto the sidewalk and stood there, in the cold winter wind, clutching the damn papers until the doorman came forward and touched my arm. “Are you all right, miss?” he asked. “Can I help you upstairs?”

  “No,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be all right again.

  Chapter 35

  Beckett

  ONCE I left Venetia at the doctor’s office, I floated back to work on a cloud of happiness. She loved me. Loved me. Me. In the bathroom of my office, I splashed water on my face to wipe away the goofy, lovesick grin. Sure, we had problems to resolve, but I was certain we could surmount them. I straightened my tie and left the room knowing what I needed to do. After work, I’d make a quick stop by the jewelry store. I loved her, and I needed to make her mine, officially, legally, before God and in every way that mattered. I wanted to marry her and raise a family with her. An engagement ring would show her the sincerity of my intentions.

  With that out of the way, I’d move on to the less pleasant task of Maxwell. I’d tell her everything about the will and my involvement. Afterward, we’d call Sam together to tell him about the baby. At long last, the fragments of my life seemed to be falling into place.

  When I entered Daniels’s office, I found him seated at the mammoth desk, Quaid at his side. They spoke to each other in hushed tones, their words inaudible across the distance. A knot of unease tightened in my gut. Neither man stood when I entered the room, nor did they make eye contact.

  “I didn’t realize there was a partners’ meeting today,” I said. They ceased talking and swiveled their chairs to face me. Daniels stared at my tie. Quaid focused on a spot over my left shoulder.

  “This is informal,” Quaid said. He was a stout, middle-aged man, barrel-chested with sharp, uneven teeth. I rarely saw him. He spent most of his time at the Los Angeles office.

  “What’s going on?” I took a seat across from them, cognizant of the segregation. We were partners in the loosest sense of the term. In reality, we shared office space and little else.

  “It’s time to discuss your options with the firm,” Daniels began.

  The little shit didn’t have the balls to come right out and say it, but I knew where the conversation was headed. Maxwell Seaforth had gotten to them. I fought to stay calm, to hide the shaking of my hands. The bastard hadn’t wasted any time in jerking the rug out from under me.

  “It’s come to our attention that maybe your long-term goals aren’t in alignment with ours,” Quaid said. “We’d like to talk with you about dissolving our partnership.”

  My mind scrambled for solid ground. Not only did this affect me, it affected Venetia and the baby. I’d invested well and stockpiled funds ov
er the years, but I didn’t like proposing to her as an unemployed freeloader. Even though she had money of her own, my pride wouldn’t allow her to support all of us.

  The tension in the room thickened. In my most intimidating voice, I said, “Well, gentlemen, let’s talk about money.” I shored up my defenses and prepared to play hardball.

  Chapter 36

  Venetia

  AN HOUR later I found myself standing outside Sam’s apartment, the documents shoved beneath my arm. I pressed a hand against my heart to keep it from exploding. Maxwell’s words played through my head on a loop. You’re not a Seaforth…Not my child…Not a Seaforth. My entire life had been built around the expectations associated with the Seaforth name. If I wasn’t a Seaforth, then who was I? Without a legitimate surname, I had no idea how to act. My entire identity had been erased.

  The door opened. Dakota answered. She wore a pair of slim-fitting blue jeans and an oversized T-shirt spattered with paint. The smile slid from her mouth at the sight of me. I hovered in the hallway, fighting back tears, too shattered to continue the pretense of hating her.

  “Is—is Sam here?” I asked. I’d been so bent on seeing him, so convinced he might have answers, that I’d failed to consider the circumstances of our relationship or that it was the middle of the day and he might be at work. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, but it’s important.”

  “He just got here. Come in.” She stepped to the side, welcoming me into their home. “Let me get your coat.” Calm, gentle hands pulled my coat over my shoulders. I felt her gaze slide over my figure, lingering on my belly for a long second before pulling back to my eyes. “You’re always welcome here, V. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll go get him.” Just hearing the concern in her voice eased some of my panic.

  “Who is it?” Sam strode out of the hallway, crisp and confident in a three-piece suit. He took one look at me and his jaw tensed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dad— Maxwell.” Once I opened my mouth, the words poured out in a rush. “He said he’s not my father. I’m not his kid. I’m not a Seaforth. Did you know about this?”

  “What? You’re not making sense.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me to the sofa. Tremors shook my body. “Take a deep breath and tell me again. From the beginning.”

  I stumbled through the story while he listened and nodded. Looking into his calm green eyes, I realized how much I missed him, how much I needed him, and vowed never to let anything come between us again. Dakota sat on the opposite side of me, took my hand in hers, and squeezed. Sandwiched between them on the sofa, I felt safe. Their show of support overwhelmed my self-control, and a tear slid down my cheek.

  “I had no idea, V. This is the first I’ve heard about it,” Sam said after a long pause. “But it does explain a lot of things.” His eyes met mine, filled with sympathy and warmth. A little of my anguish dissipated. He tightened his arm around my shoulder and dropped a kiss to my temple.

  “But I’m not a Seaforth,” I whispered, feeling the tears building once more. “I don’t know who I am.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re still my sister,” he said, in his quiet, reassuring voice. A wicked gleam sparked in his gaze. “If it was me, I’d be glad to know I’m not one of Satan’s spawn.”

  In spite of my distress, a laugh slipped from my lips, mingled with a hiccup. Sam always knew how to put things in perspective. “He gave me these documents to sign.” The sight of Maxwell’s papers brought back the sharp sting of Beckett’s betrayal.

  “Let me see.” Sam took the documents and skimmed over them. “This looks like a release to any claims on his estate or monetary compensation. And this one is a non-disclosure agreement requesting your public silence about your parentage.” He cleared his throat. “The upside is that no one’s going to know you’re not a Seaforth. You don’t have to worry about press or negative publicity. Not that it matters.”

  “It doesn’t change who you are as a person,” Dakota said. Her worried gaze lifted to meet Sam’s. The ice around my heart toward her melted. “No one can take that away from you unless you let them. And we love you no matter who you are.”

  “I’ve been awful to you both.” I hung my head and studied the floor.

  “Family is family, and we stick together,” Sam said. “Even when I’m pissed at you, even when you’re being a brat, I still care about you.” He gave my shoulders an extra squeeze.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Dakota. I searched her face, hoping she could read the sincerity in my eyes. “I never really gave you a chance.”

  “It’s okay. I can’t blame you. I would’ve felt the same way.” Her smile held only sympathy and understanding. She patted my hand. “You’re pale as a ghost. Let me get you something to drink.” I watched her walk into the kitchen while Sam continued to peruse the documents.

  “You should talk to Beckett,” Sam said. “He’s been handling some of Maxwell’s affairs. Maybe he can shed some light on this.” He reached into the interior pocket of his coat for his phone. I put a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “No. I don’t want to talk to him.” My heart beat furiously at the mention of Beckett’s name. Beckett’s involvement in the situation wounded me. He’d obviously told Sam about his dealings with Maxwell, but he hadn’t told me. Did he not trust me? How could he love me and withhold this vital information, knowing how it affected me?

  “Why not?” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something else you want to tell me?”

  A hot rush of embarrassment flooded into my cheeks. In all the turmoil, I’d forgotten about the baby. I placed a protective hand on my belly. “I guess you noticed that I’m pregnant.”

  “It’s a little difficult to ignore.” A scowl darkened his blond brow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “We weren’t exactly on speaking terms.” I jutted my chin stubbornly. “I knew you’d give me hell about it.” My emotions bounced from one extreme to the other; hurt and anger roiled inside me.

  “Damn straight I will.” Sam’s jaw flexed. “Who is it? Who did this to you?”

  “No one did this to me.” I bristled at his tone. Beckett’s name hovered on my lips. We’d planned to tell Sam together. At this juncture, the last person I wanted to see was Piers Beckett. A part of me wanted to hurt him back, the way he’d hurt me by his betrayal. Tears burned in my eyes as I thought back to the previous night and how happy I’d been. I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive him for lying to me. I drew in a deep breath. “It’s Beckett’s.”

  Chapter 37

  Beckett

  AFTER THE meeting with Daniels and Quaid, I headed back to my office. My head continued to reel from shock. Leaving the firm was only a temporary setback. It would take a few months to wrap up my current cases, giving me time to set up a new plan. The terms of my partnership agreement offered a generous buyout for my share of the business. With a little leveraging, I could walk away from Daniels, Quaid, Beckett & Associates with a lot of cash in my pocket, enough to start my own practice.

  As I closed my office for the day, I pushed aside thoughts of work and concentrated on Venetia. God, I couldn’t wait to see her, to take her to my bed and sink into her soft, wet heat. We had a lot to discuss and plans to be made.

  My cell phone vibrated inside my pocket. Thinking it might be V, I withdrew it and frowned to see Sam’s name on the screen. “Hey, man,” I answered.

  “I need to see you at my place. Now.” Sam’s voice growled over the phone

  “What’s up?” I tried to stay calm though my hands began to shake. Sam had a way of communicating his displeasure by tone. I’d never been on the wrong side of his temper, and I didn’t want to be there now.

  “Just get over here.” The clipped cadence of his tone rang warning bells in my head.

  “I’m supposed to meet someone.” I bit the inside of my cheek, the secret of Venetia weighing heavily on my conscience once more, and glanced at my wrist watch. “But I suppose I can swing by for a few. Or can we
do it tomorrow?” By tomorrow, I’d have a plan for our future, and Venetia and I could confront Sam together.

  “Venetia’s here.”

  The simple statement turned my blood to ice. No, no, no. I shoved a hand through my hair and tried to breathe. Panic twisted my insides.

  Once I got to Sam’s apartment, I took one look at Venetia’s face and knew shit had gone wrong in a major way. She avoided my gaze and turned her face when I tried to kiss her cheek. Acid churned in my gut.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, swallowing down the bile in my throat.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Venetia said. The chill in her voice sent a shiver down my back. I reached out to touch her, but she shrank from my hand.

  “You told him?” Relief washed over me as I tried to piece together the story, certain I could clear things up once Sam knew my feelings. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I thought we were going to tell him together.” A part of me felt slighted because she’d taken the initiative on her own, but I swallowed down my pride. I turned to Sam. “I’m glad you know. It’s been killing me to keep this from you. We were waiting for the right time.”

  “Inside.” Sam nodded toward his home office, jaw clenched and green eyes blazing. I followed him into the room, feeling like a third-grader on his way to the principal’s office. Once inside, Sam paced the length of the room. No matter how you tried to dress it up, there was no good way to tell your best friend you’d knocked up his little sister. Venetia and the baby were my responsibilities, and I planned to take my lumps like a man. I steeled myself for a variety of responses: anger, dismay, disappointment, or betrayal.

 

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