Beauty in the Broken

“What?” she asks, a little breathless.

Taking perverse pleasure from her reaction, I don’t back up. She’s been kind to me from day one, but there was no telling if she’d want me. I breathe easier, knowing it’s doable. Call it a test, but after what she showed me in the study, I can teach her to want me.

“What?” she repeats, flattening her back against the wall, but it doesn’t stop her nipples from brushing my chest.

As Anne barged in uninvited, there was no need for introductions. Since she’ll be staying, I need to clarify the nature of our relationship.

“Anne is Zane’s sister,” I say. “She boarded with me for a night. That’s all.”

“His sister?”

“She’s not my mistress.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“As your husband, I do.”

“That’s what you wanted to tell me?” she asks, as if telling her I’m not fucking the guest she invited isn’t important.

“We have a party on Saturday. Zane will take you dress shopping. Whatever you need, he has a credit card for your expenses.”

Something in her gaze shifts. “Zane?”

“I’ll be tied up with urgent business for most of the week.” Such as voting Dalton off the board.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?”

“That I prefer you to take me.”

“Pity.” I smile like I imagine a snake would grimace at a mouse. “How did you mean it?”

“I don’t need Zane to take me shopping.”

“Your safety isn’t up for discussion.”

“I’m not talking about my safety. I don’t need a dress.”

“You do.”

“I have enough.”

Five. I’ve counted. All black. “Not for our wedding reception.”

“Our what?”

“You didn’t think I’d let our marriage pass without a celebration, did you?”

“Actually, yes.”

“No such luck, angel.” I push away from the wall before I’m tempted to make her come against it. I can get addicted to her orgasms. When she comes, I can tell it’s overwhelming. I like to know I have the power to do that to her. “Get a dress.” I walk away. Resisting her is too damn hard.

“No,” she says to my back.

“Get one,” I call over my shoulder.

Of course, she’s going to defy me.

Lina

What happened? I feel like the mouse in the cat’s claws. Damian has gone easy on me, but he’s not done playing. Of that, I’m sure. Strung out by his game, I search Jana out in the kitchen. Her kindness is soothing. She tells me everything I don’t know about my own wedding reception. I sit at the kitchen table, sipping the tea she insists I drink, while she fills me in. The party will take place at the house. An event coordinator is making the arrangements. From what she’s seen of the planning, it’s going to be the event of the year. My only job is to look pretty, says Jana. Over a hundred people have been invited, including the mine magnates and diamond brokers. The only person not on the list is Harold. Damian’s orders.

Jana gives me a probing look from where she’s scooping butternut into a blender. “May I ask why your father isn’t invited?” She’s finally accepted to call me Lina, but only when Damian isn’t around. “It’s none of my business, but I hate to see you looking so down.”

I lift my head quickly. “I’m not down.”

“Are you kidding? It’s written all over your face. Why don’t you talk to Mr. Hart? Sometimes, family has fallouts. It can always be fixed.”

“It’s nothing like that.” I’m glad Harold won’t be here, but I can’t expect Jana to understand.

She rinses her hands and dries them on a kitchen towel. “I think I know why you’re upset.” Crossing the floor, she stops on the opposite side of the table. “You’re sad because Mr. Hart didn’t involve you in the planning. I’m sure he’s only trying to make it easy for you. Knowing he’s not around often to help, he probably wanted as little stress and work for you as possible.”

“Yes. Of course.”

There’s no way of explaining our complicated situation to someone as sweet and uncomplicated as Jana, who’s been married to a nice, stable guy with a great sense of humor—her words—for the past twelve years.

“Good.” She pats my hand. “Talking of not being around often, Mr. Hart said he’d be late for dinner. I’ll leave everything in the warming drawer if you want to eat earlier.”

“That’ll be kind.”

I’m about to ask if she needs help with dinner when Anne walks into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi, Jana,” Anne says, barely sparing her a glance.

Jana nods. “Anne.” Turning her back to us, she continues with the meal preparations.

“You didn’t say which room I should take,” Anne says.

“Any one you want.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or anything, but my clothes are already in the room next to yours.”

“Then leave them there.”

“Great.” She bounces on the balls of her feet. “Zane just told me about Saturday. He’s taking me shopping for a dress. Want to come?”