Beauty in the Broken

“You look like you need it.”

“Thank you,” I say, because it’s more mercy than I’ve ever been granted.

I down it in one go. The liquor burns down my throat and heats my stomach. My eyes water. He’s right. I do need it. I need it for what I have to do, and I’ll be damned if I let him see how much it scares me. Feigning courage, I leave the tumbler and my clutch on the table and walk to the desk. I lean on it, facing him. I resent him so much, this beautiful man staring at me. Fear-filled expectation is worse torture than the physical kind. I just want it to be done.

“What are you waiting for?” I taunt, lifting my skirt and spreading my legs as far as the dress allows. “Get it over with.”

Chapter 3

Damian

It’s not going to happen like this. Anyway, I’m so angry with Lina for the dress stunt, I feel more like strangling than fucking her.

Her lush, usually pink lips are a shade paler. The lip balm makes them shimmer like mother-of-pearl. “Are you a man or not?”

Provocation. This is what it is, but I fall for it all the same, being in the state I am. In three long strides, I’ve crossed the floor. Her eyes grow large, betraying her brave performance. My hands are on her before she has time to blink. Twisting her around, I bend her body over the desk and pull up the skirt of her dress, the ugly black fucking dress. I lean my weight over her, crushing her chest to the wood. No doubt she can feel my dick growing hard between her ass cheeks. Her breath catches when I drag my hand up the inside of her thigh.

“Is this what you want?” I whisper with my nose pressed against her ear.

She shivers. “Does it matter what I want?”

I squeeze her thigh, applying the slightest of pressure. “Answer me.”

She jerks. I guess that shiver wasn’t the good kind. Repulsion, maybe.

Her voice is small. “No.”

Slowly, I straighten and let her go. The minute my hold lifts, she flings around.

Her face is ashen. “Why don’t you just get it over with?”

“I’m not in the habit of forcing women into my bed.”

“Just into marriage?”

Yeah, I’m not in the habit of forcing women—never had to—but I do force a smile that must look as stiff as it feels. “When it suits my objective.”

“Ultimately, sex is part of your objective. This is what you want, isn’t it?”

Her question is a challenge, a hopeful one that begs for denial, but I’ve already admitted as much in her father’s library. I’m not going to lie to her. It doesn’t matter that she’s unstable and certified crazy. I still want her. For that, I hate her almost more than for destroying my life.

Besides, it’s not an easy question to answer. I want more than sex. I want to punish her for the part she played in her family’s sins. I want to destroy her for making me want her when she damn well knew she wouldn’t be mine. I want her to know what it’s like to desire someone so intensely you physically ache. I want her to know what it’s like to masturbate with one person’s face in your mind for six never-ending years. When I’m done with her, I want her to never want another. I want her to covet me and pine away into a ghost of herself when I’m gone. I want her to imagine my face when she comes on her fingers and cry out my name in her sleep. I want her to go down on her knees and beg me to fill her with my cock, because that’s the force with which I want her, and I’m not in the habit of nurturing unrequited passion, either. I want to ruin her for all other men. That’s what I want.

I settle for the simple answer. “I’ll take what I want when you’re offering.”

Her delicate nostrils flare. “Never.”

Chuckling, I trace the line of her jaw. Her flawless skin is soft under my calloused pad. Her smooth and my rough rub together like good girls and savages disguised as gentlemen. Beasts like me, our clothes fit us well because brand names and tailored cuts cover the flaws of an unrefined education and less than honorable heart. The dishonorable beast in me likes the way we rub—her vulnerability and my power. He likes it very much.

“You know what they say about never, angel.”

She jerks her head away and escapes with a sideways step. The rapid movement of her chest draws my eyes to her breasts. They’re firm and pert. Beautiful, unobtainable, out-of-my-league Lina is mine. She may not want me—yet—but that doesn’t change a thing. As of today, I’m her legal guardian. I’m responsible for her. She can’t make a single decision without my approval, and I’m still high on the knowledge.