Beauty in the Broken: A Diamond Magnate Novel Read online

  Her gaze drops to my groin. “Do you want me to…?”

  “You can’t say it, can you?” I taunt. “No, I don’t want you to swallow my cock. It’s too soon.”

  “Then what?” she whispers. “If you’re thinking of doing that to me—”

  “Say it.”

  Defiance sets her shoulders straight. “If you’re thinking of going down on me, I’ll remind you I’m having my period.”

  Fuck. Hearing her say it makes me hard. “No threat of that either.” I flick my fingers. “Underwear. Now.”

  She regards me curiously while discarding her bra and thong, no doubt wondering what I have planned for her. I don’t make her wait to find out.

  “Go to my study.”

  The color vanishes from her cheeks.

  “Now, Lina.”

  She glances beyond me at the open door.

  “I gave the staff the afternoon off. No one will see you.”

  She swallows. “Why? What did I do wrong?”

  Stepping aside, I indicate she should go ahead of me. Her tread is light, cautious, her naked body a tableau of perfection marred with a purple stain that blooms like a flower on her hip. The meaning of that stain seeps under my skin, reminding me of Zane’s accusation. She tried to seduce me.

  Looking over her shoulder at me, she asks, “Why did you send everyone away?”

  “You know why.”

  “Damian.”

  She hesitates on the threshold to the study, but I’m flush against her back. There’s no way but forward. Inside, she hugs herself, watching me as I close the space between us. I’m not sure if it’s a gesture of comforting herself or hiding her breasts from me.

  Gently, I swipe her hair over her shoulders. Her skin is smooth and soft under my palms. Perfect. “Did you trespass in Zane’s bathroom?”

  She sucks in a breath. “He told you.”

  “What were you doing in his bathroom?”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Yes.”

  I drag my thumb along her shoulder, tracing the arch of her neck. “Speak in full sentences.”

  Goosebumps break out over her skin. “Yes, I was in his bathroom.”

  Slowly, I caress the line of her jaw. “That’s not what I asked.”

  Fear sparks in her eyes, eyes the color of a sinful night, even as she holds my gaze bravely. “I was looking for something.”

  “What were you looking for?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Mm.” I cup her jaw, letting her warmth sink into my palm. “Let’s try a different question. What were you wearing?”

  “I just got back from the pool.”

  “What were you wearing, Lina?”

  Her voice turns a little hoarse. Uncertain. Fearful. “My bikini.”

  I rub a strand of her hair between my fingers. Soft like silk. “Your bikini.”

  “And a wrap.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” I stroke her hair gently. “Let’s try this one again. What were you looking for?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing.” Running my fingers down her back, I caress each fragile vertebra. “How did you get the bruise on your hip?”

  She watches me unfalteringly, her huge eyes trained on mine. “Zane shoved me. I hit my hip on the basin.”

  It takes an extra big effort to tamp down the fury the mental image conjures. “Why did he shove you?”

  “I shouldn’t have been there.”

  I continue my exploration until I reach her buttocks. Cupping her globes, I trace the bruise on her hip with my thumb. “What trade did you suggest for the nothing you were looking for?”

  “Nothing!”

  “You offered nothing for nothing. Is that what you expect me to believe?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  Letting go of her, I walk to the desk, retrieve the brown envelope from the false bottom of the drawer, and drop it on the corner in her line of sight. “Is this what you were looking for?”

  Her pretty eyes go wide as she fixes them on the envelope.

  “You must love your father very much if you’re willing to pay for his freedom with your body.”

  She swallows but doesn’t look away from that envelope. It’s only when I round the desk that her gaze snaps back to me.

  “You want that nothing?” I ask. “Give me the price you were willing to pay Zane and it’s yours.”

  Shaking her head, she starts to speak. “I didn’t—”

  I silence her with a finger on her lips. No more lies. “This is what you wanted. Now you’re going to take it.”

  Chapter 13

  Lina

  Damian backs me up to the desk, to the corner where my freedom lies in a plain, brown envelope. I’m tempted to look at it again, just to be sure it’s real, but the disappointment in his bitter gaze won’t let me. I’m not fooled by his gentleness. He’s going to punish me. That’s how he works. I’m acting brave, but it’s exactly that. Acting. My legs tremble at the thought of all the ways in which he can take revenge. I haven’t succeeded in stealing the evidence. He won’t cut off my finger. That doesn’t prevent him from using one of the whipping tools on the wall to put new scars on me.

  He stands too close. The heat from his body burns my naked skin through the layers of his clothes. This is my disadvantage. I’m naked. Vulnerable. This is how he planned it, why he made me undress.

  Gripping my waist, he lifts me with a swift movement onto the desk. The action is not what I expected. I’m trembling from head to toe, waiting for the worst. He grips my knees and spreads my legs.

  “You want it, Lina?”

  Slowly, he trails a finger up the inside of my thigh, higher and higher, until he brushes the pad over my folds. I shiver. No matter how hard I bite down on my lip, my body prepares for him, turning slick and swollen.

  He plays between my legs, stroking me softly, waking nerve endings.

  “You want it?” he repeats, his breath warm on my face, but I’m no longer certain if he’s referring to the envelope or his touch.

  He kisses the shell of my ear, his caress a deceptively gentle seduction. “I asked you a question.”

  “W-what?”

  “Do you want those papers?”

  Biting my lip, I glance at the envelope. It’s so close, within my reach. I breathe in deeply and let out the admittance on a rush of air. “Yes.”

  He rubs a finger over my clit. “This is what you offered, right?”

  I stare at him as his meaning sinks in. Sex in exchange for my freedom. My heart clenches painfully. He’s asking me to be a whore. Doesn’t really matter, though. It won’t be the first time. What’s once more, right? The thought hurts, but I push it away. I keep my tears inside as I reach for his zipper.

  Instead of victory, there’s something else on his face, something I can’t put a finger on, but he doesn’t stop me when I unzip his fly. It’s only when I reach for his belt that he grabs my wrist.

  “No touching,” he says. “Put your hands on the desk.”

  Not understanding his motivation, I swallow the rejection and lock my elbows to lean back on my arms. He finishes the task of freeing his cock through his fly, and that’s all he does. He doesn’t even unbutton his pants or push them over his hips.

  “I’ll need a minute to use the bathroom.” My face heats as I say it. I need to clean up. My period has started, and I haven’t yet had time to use anything.

  He doesn’t grant me the privilege of that privacy. His deft fingers feel between my legs, slipping between my folds. When he finds my channel empty, he grips his cock in one hand and lifts my thigh with the other.

  The enormity of what we’re about to do crashes down on me. I’m going to let him fuck me without protection. I’m clean. He’s been in jail for six years. I doubt he’s been fucking around after he got out. He was too busy plotting his revenge. At least I’m having my period. There’s no risk of
falling pregnant.

  Dragging the broad head through my folds only once, he places it at my opening. “This is how you wanted it.”

  A burning sting sears through me as he impales me to the hilt. There’s too much of him and not enough give in my body. I’m not quite ready, but he doesn’t give me time to adjust. He pulls out and plunges back in, making my back arch. This is his punishment. This is the price I’m paying, letting him use me. I agreed, didn’t I? Then why does the roughness with which he tears into me hurt worse in my heart than in my unused channel? He stabs inside me, again and again, stretching too much, going too fast. It’s not comfortable, but not everything I feel is pain. There’s pleasure, too. I gasp at the sensation. Sex has never been pleasurable for me. That he holds this kind of power over me, the power of making my body sing while wringing out my heart, scares me more than any knife or notch carved on my skin. I will the tightening of my muscles away, but the pleasure keeps on expanding with every punishing thrust.

  Despite the emotional coldness with which he takes me, heat unfurls in my belly. My orgasm builds quickly. I ache to wrap my arms around his neck, to hold onto something, but my arms remained plastered at my sides, my hands gripping the edge of the desk as he lets go of my thigh to rub his fingers over my clit. The other times I paid with my body, I never came. I do now, and as the orgasm rips through me and tightens my inner muscles around his cock, I feel lonelier than all the times I didn’t come.

  He follows not long after with a grunt, emptying himself inside me without kisses or caresses. The only place where our bodies are touching is where we’re joined. It’s not for long, though. The minute his release is spent, he pulls out. His shaft is pink from his semen and my blood. The mixture gushes from me, and all I can do to salvage the little that’s left of my pride is to close my legs.

  Grabbing a napkin from the liquor tray, he cleans himself before tucking his cock away and adjusting his pants. A moment of silence follows as we look at each other. I wait for him to say something, but he only picks up the envelope and places it in my lap.

  “Next time,” he says, “if you offer what’s mine to another man, you’ll have his death on your conscience.”

  With that he walks out, leaving me in a wet puddle on his desk.

  It’s only when he’s gone that I let my shoulders sag. A band of tension snaps in my chest as I allow myself to let down my guard. It takes more than a moment to pull myself together and gather enough strength to slide off his desk. My legs wobble. I swallow back tears that get stuck in an aching knot in my throat.

  Following his example, I use a few napkins to clean myself. I leave them in the trashcan, too wrought out to worry about the cleaning staff’s thoughts or reactions. Forcing myself to ignore the hurt in my heart and between my legs, I face the only thing that can make it better. I face the envelope. I look at it like I couldn’t earlier. I look at it without blinking until my eyes burn. My fingers tremble when I finally reach for it. My palm is a scale of justice. I feel the weight of freedom in my hand and the price of it between my thighs. My heart throbs painfully for both ends of the scale, because there’s misery in having sold my soul, and, surprisingly, in walking away. A part of me already misses Damian, but I’m guessing it’s the girl who fell in love with the boy. I’m thankful to him in a warped way for fucking me like a man, for making it easier for me to hate him, for making it easier to leave.

  My stomach flutters as I tear open the seal. Elation pumps through me as I extract the folded papers. Finally, I’ll know where my baby is. I’ll know what they did with his little body. Harold will have to tell me, but what prevents him from killing me once he has Damian’s evidence? He no longer has a motive for keeping me alive. Jack’s money is now Damian’s to manage. Before, at the event of my death, the money would’ve gone into a state trust, as Harold isn’t my next of kin in blood. Only we know the secret. Only we know I’m the product of my mother’s affair, and only she knew who my father is. She never told. Knowing Harold would kill him, she protected his identity. Harold never adopted me, but he raised me in his house. He told me the truth on my eighteenth birthday. By then, it didn’t come as a surprise. He hated me too much, never cared for me like a father, so much so he refused to put his name on my birth certificate. If I’m to die, the secret contained on my birth certificate will be known, and Harold would’ve lost control of Jack’s money. Now that there’s no money as motivation, I need a different bargaining chip. I’ll keep the originals and offer Harold a copy. That will be my ticket to safety. I know too many of Harold’s crimes. I’m too big a risk.

  Holding my breath, I carefully unfold the two sheets of paper that hold my future. I scan over the text, taking in the shadow in the bottom left corner. It can’t be.

  No!

  Furiously, I rub my finger over the ink, willing it to smudge, but I already know it won’t.

  It’s fake.

  The papers I hold in my hands are copies.

  Chapter 14

  Damian

  Lina storms into the room, her eyelashes matted with tears.

  I wait quietly, having expected the reaction. This is the reason why I sent everyone away. I can’t do this behind a closed door, not with Lina’s phobia, and no one but me will witness her breakdown. This is sacred. Private. Between her and me. The moment I break her is mine alone.

  She holds the papers out to me, as if I don’t know what’s printed on them. Her hand is shaking so badly the sheets are fluttering. Her lips are trembling. She’s barely holding herself together. Naked, falling apart, she’s ravishing. The most beautiful living being I’ve seen.

  “You deceived me.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  Her breath catches on a hitch. “You said you’d give me the evidence.”

  “I said I’d give you the envelope. I never told you what was inside.”

  She swats at the tears on her cheek. “You tricked me.”

  “You didn’t ask what was in that envelope.”

  She gnashes her teeth. “You bastard.”

  “Are you angry about your lost freedom or that I fucked you?”

  “Both!”

  “Would you have been angry at Zane if it was his cock?”

  “It wouldn’t have been the same.”

  Tilting my head, I study her. She’s losing her composure with every passing second. “How’s that?”

  “I would never have given it to him freely. I would’ve fought him with everything I’ve got.”

  It doesn’t sound right, not according to what Zane said, but I’m taunting her, pushing her closer to the edge of her limits. “I thought you offered.”

  “I snooped around in his bathroom. He caught me. He threatened to touch me. We fought, and it got physical. That’s what happened, not whatever you think.”

  I still. I let her words sink deep into my heart where their meaning can damage me. Irrevocably. If it’s true, I failed her. I said I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. If what she says is true, Zane betrayed me. If it’s true, Lina was bullied, right under my nose. The sleeping pill and the marks on her wrists, why would she lie about them? She has no reason for pinning the blame on Zane.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want to come apart with fury, but I keep it together. Only one of us can unravel. Slowly, as I let the calm seep in, doubt nestles in the seat of trust I keep for Zane. I can’t give her the benefit of the doubt. Not yet. Not with her track record. I can’t do it without proof. From the way her pretty features contort, she reads the truth on my face.

  “Fuck you,” she snarls, tearing the papers into small pieces that flitter like confetti to the floor. “I don’t care, do you hear me?”

  “That I don’t trust you or that you let me fuck you for nothing?”

  She snaps. With a cry of rage, she flings herself at me, going into the fight with arms, fists, feet, and teeth. I’ve never seen a woman so feral. The fact that I easily catch her wrists and constrain her only infuriates her more. Twisting and ki
cking, she tries to inflict physical damage, but she only has her feet to use as weapons. She’s barefoot, and she’s a tiny thing. There’s not much she can use to her advantage. I could’ve stopped her as easily as I’m constraining her, but I let her tire herself, get it out of her system.

  When her energy is spent, she sags in my hold. Her legs cave in. A big sob wracks her shoulders as she slides to the floor. I let go of her wrists to catch her in my arms. Cupping her face, I press her cheek to my chest. Warm tears soak my shirt. Quiet tears. Her full, meager weight rests against me. Folding an arm under her knees, I pick her up and carry her to our bed.

  “The sheets,” she says through her tears as I lay her down.

  “Fuck the sheets.”

  I tear out of my clothes in record time. All the while, she cries. When I cover her body with mine, she doesn’t protest.

  I frame her face between my palms and kiss the salty taste of her tears from her lips. “Let it all out, angel.”

  “I hate you so much.”

  I kiss her again. “I know.”

  “I’ll never forgive you.”

  “I’ll gladly carry your blame.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “You’re mine.” If there’s one thing I hoped to get across today, it’s that.

  When I brush my lips over hers again and again, she doesn’t stop me. Neither does she resist me when I invade her mouth with my tongue. I always want to kiss her mouth the opposite of how I want to fuck it, but this time I can’t hold back. The strokes of my tongue are urgent. They mimic the movement of my hips as I choose a rhythm that will work for both of us and not just me this time. She moans into my mouth, almost making me lose it. Her back arches, pushing her breasts flat against my chest. I’m thankful for my foresight to have sent everyone away, because this is the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole delinquent life, ever since I saw her face. The moment is too big to have it crowded with others when the walls are thin. It’s my moment, mine as much as hers, even if she won’t admit it. I’ve waited six years to be inside her. I’ve had no other woman since. Fucking her in the study took off the edge. I’m going to make this round last.