Beautifully Broken (The Broken Series Book 2) (4 page)

Captain
Graves looked thoughtful as his attention shifted to Mickey.

Mickey
eyed the federal agents nervously before meeting Kadyn’s gaze. “I’ll do
whatever I can to help you find Kri. I can keep this quiet, but people are
aware that I’ve been missing all day. You’re going to have to help me come up
with a story to explain that. I don’t want to lose my job.”

Captain
Graves nodded. “We can do that.”

Kadyn
breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, this would give them a chance to find Kri.
He didn’t think Garcia would hurt her, but if he was involved with terrorists,
he might not be able to protect her from his friends. Kadyn winced at the
thought of terrorists getting their hands on Kri… a blond haired, blue-eyed,
all-American girl, working in the U.S. Senate. Kri represented everything they
hated. They could easily decide to make an example out of her.

Kadyn
sank onto the couch. His voice broke as he spoke. “I promised to keep her safe.
I promised that no one would ever hurt her again.” This would be the second
time that promise was broken.         

Michael’s
kiss left me physically shaken and deeply disturbed. I couldn’t reconcile the
way my body was responding to him against what my brain was telling me to do. I
wanted
Kadyn, not Michael...
loved
Kadyn, not Michael. I knew
that in my head and in my heart, but my body was an entirely different story.
Everything about Michael screamed danger… passion… predator. It always had. For
reasons completely outside my understanding, that smoldering combination seduced
my body in ways I found difficult to resist.

Michael
gently pulled me toward the stairs.
“Ma chérie,
I can see you are
tired.
Come, let me show you to the bedroom.”

“The
bedroom,” I repeated numbly.

Michael
tucked my hand in the crook of his arm as he led me upstairs. “
Oui
, the
cook will bring our dinner to the room shortly.”

“The
cook?”

“
Mon
coeur
, you didn’t think I would make you cook?” Michael teased lightly.

I
didn’t know what to think. The place was so unexpected and unlike any home I’d
ever been in before. Even Senator Rockefeller’s house paled in comparison. Michael
was a complete contradiction. One minute he was tying one of my friend’s up with
duct tape and threatening to kill people. The next minute he was kissing me and
presenting me with a house… only it wasn’t a house, it was a mansion
with
servants
.

My
fingers trailed over the beautiful metal railing as we made our way up the
second flight of stairs. The stair railing swirled into a delicate pattern of
intermingling loops just like the railing I’d seen on the balconies outside. Once
we reached the top of the stairs, Michael turned to the left and escorted me
down a long hallway that was lined with rooms on either side. All of the doors
were closed except one. Light spilled into the hallway from a room at the far
end of the house.

Michael
read my thoughts. “You can see the rest of the house tomorrow, once you have
recovered from the trip.”

I
stopped just inside the doorway. The bedroom was larger than my entire
apartment. There was a massive four poster bed in the center of the room. The dark
walnut headboard and the posts at each corner were carved with an intricate leaf
pattern. Reams of gauzy white material were gathered at each of the posts and
draped seductively over the top. The thick comforter on the bed was also white,
and it appeared to be filled with down.

The
walls on either end of the room were lined with large windows that curved at
the top. The windows had handles like French doors so you could step out onto the
small balconies. The floor was marble, but a very large French tapestry rug
anchored the bed. The rug had an ivory scroll pattern that was woven into a
caramel backdrop with accents the color of evergreen trees and a deep merlot.

I
couldn’t resist turning around so I could see the entire room. There were three
sitting areas. Two were tucked next to the windows on either end of the room.
Each of these sitting areas included a plush caramel colored rug, two brown
leather chairs, and a dark walnut coffee table. The third sitting area was
located directly in front of a large marble fireplace. It included a brown
leather couch flanked on either side by matching leather chairs.

The
area in front of the fireplace included a much larger coffee table. Again, all
of the furniture was arranged around a plush caramel colored rug. A fire was already
lit and gently crackling inside the fire place. The room maintained a soft glow
between the fire and three stained glass Tiffany floor lamps. As I stepped a
bit further into the room, I noticed a doorway off to the far left of the
fireplace and another doorway off to the right of the door we had just entered
through.

Michael
pointed to the doorway to the left of the fireplace. “
La salle de bain.
”

“The
bathroom?” I confirmed.

Michael
nodded, then pointed to the other door. “
Le placard
.”

“The
closet,” I guessed.

Michael
smiled as he motioned toward the closet. “
Oui.
Go look.”

I
walked to the doorway, then stood gaping at the closet. It was larger than my
living room. Countless men’s suits and white long sleeved shirts lined the wall
on the right, but dresses, skirts, and blouses lined the wall on the left. Walnut
drawers were nestled under the clothes. The walls easily ran fifteen feet deep
and twenty feet apart. A thick burgundy rug lay in the center of the closet.
The entire back wall held built in shelves filled with shoes. Men’s dress shoes
lined the right side of the shelves, while women’s dress shoes lined the left
in every color imaginable.

I
took a few steps into the closet, helpless to resist its pull. My eyes returned
to the dresses. They were organized by color. My fingers stroked the rainbow of
fabric, just as Michael nuzzled my neck.

He
wrapped his arms around me. “
Ils
sont
pour toi.
C
'est
bien, oui?
”
 

“For
me?” I asked incredulously. I examined one of the tags. It read size thirty-eight,
but the dress appeared to be no larger than a size six, which was exactly my
size.

“The
French size their clothes differently than the Americans do. Do not worry,
ma
chérie.
All of these clothes will fit you. I purchased them in your size… the
shoes too,” Michael stated confidently.

I
stared down at my feet. How could Michael know my shoe size? We had only been
on four dates when he proposed. He was so upset when I turned him down and refused
to see him again that I had to get a restraining order against him. Although he
had sent numerous e-mails and post cards professing his love, I hadn’t seen him
in over a year. Now I was standing in his arms looking at an entire wall of
clothes that he had purchased exclusively for me. “
Seulement toi,”
I murmured,
repeating Michael’s words from earlier.

Michael
tightened his arms around me. “Only you,” he whispered seductively in my ear.

My
eyes narrowed. There was something odd about the clothes. “There aren’t any pants?”

Michael
chuckled softly. “Why would you want to dress like a man? You have beautiful
legs. I want to
see
them.”

As
much as I wanted to debate that point, I had a far more pressing concern. I turned
around to look at Michael. “There are men’s clothes?”

His
hands settled on my hips as he pulled me against him. An amused look flitted
across his face. “
Oui
. They are mine.”

I
took a deep breath as I readied myself for battle. “Michael, do you intend for
us to sleep in the same room?”

Michael
looked surprised. “Of course,
mon coeur
. You belong with me.”

I
pulled away. As large as the closet was, I was finding it extremely difficult
to breathe. “But, Michael, there are
sixteen
rooms in this house…”

Michael
put his hand up to stop me. “Those rooms are for guests. You are not a guest.
You belong with me, here, in
this
room.” Michael crossed his arms
stubbornly as he tried to end the debate. “This is not negotiable, Kristine.”

I
didn’t know whether to cry or scream. I pushed past Michael. I wanted to put
some distance between us, but he followed me into the bedroom. The room spun as
I grappled with my predicament. How could I negotiate with Michael when he held
all the power? He was willing to kill people to get what he wanted. If I
refused to comply, would he threaten to kill Kadyn again? And if sleeping in
the same room wasn’t negotiable, then what
was
negotiable?

My
heart beat hard and fast. Then it hit me. There would be no refusing Michael. I
couldn’t refuse him a single thing. My eyes widened in understanding as I
turned to face him.

Michael
caught my arm and pulled me against his chest. His voice was soft and low, the
words a mere caress. “
Mon amour,
I do not want to fight with you, but I
will fight
for
you. I want only for us to be together.” His eyes
softened as his lips brushed against mine. “
Je
t'aime
…
I love you, Kristine. All I’m asking for is a chance to prove it to you.”

I
tried to respond, but Michael silenced me with another kiss. His tongue swept
through my mouth in long seductive strokes. My eyes fluttered closed as he
consumed me in a kiss that was utterly intoxicating. My eyes flew open when he
began backing me toward the bed. I shoved at his chest, forcefully breaking the
kiss.

Michael
had a confused look on his face, as if thoroughly perplexed by my ability to
resist him. His brow furrowed in frustration. His lips crashed against mine as
he gathered me back into his arms. I tried to remain unresponsive, but my
resolve crumbled as he began coaxing me with his tongue. I nearly whimpered my submission.

I
managed to pull away just as an older woman breezed into the room. She was
carrying a large tray with a silver dome-shaped lid. A young girl, who looked
to be somewhere around the age of twelve, trailed behind her carrying a bottle
of sparkling mineral water and a bottle of red wine. “
Bonsoir,
” they greeted
breathily.

“
Bonsoir
,”
Michael replied, although his eyes remained on me. “The cook and her
granddaughter,” he explained as they hustled toward the fireplace.

They
set the tray, bottled water, and wine on the coffee table in front of the
fireplace. The older woman opened the wine. Then she pulled white linen
napkins, two wine glasses, and two tumblers from pockets in her white apron. She
worked efficiently as she set everything up. Her silver hair was piled
elegantly at the top of her head. Her skin looked much younger than her hair
suggested. Her figure was trim and tall, and her dress was every bit as nice as
anything I owned.

The
cook’s granddaughter poured the water. She had dark brown eyes and even darker hair,
which was woven into an intricate French braid. She was wearing a pretty floral
dress. They both murmured, “
B
on
appétit,
” and bowed slightly in our direction before
they turned and walked away.

“
Merci,
”
Michael responded before returning his attention to me. “Why don’t you take a
few minutes to wash up before we sit down to eat? The wine needs some time to
breathe.”

“Thank
you,” I responded shakily. I walked to the bathroom, still anxious to gain some
distance from Michael. I froze just inside the door. The same fireplace that
was crackling inside the bedroom extended into the bathroom. A huge Jacuzzi tub
sat directly in front of the fireplace. The bathtub was nestled inside brown,
copper, and black flecked marble. There was no faucet and no handles for hot or
cold water. A bronze disc in the ceiling was positioned directly over the tub.
I could only assume that the water came from the ceiling, although I had no
idea how one would control the temperature or the flow. A beautifully upholstered
fainting couch was tucked against the back of the bathtub. Plush brown rugs anchored
the sides.

I
tore my eyes from the bathtub and gaped at the rest of the room. Three large windows
formed the exterior wall. The opposite wall held a large tiled shower with glass
doors, two showerheads, and twelve jets. Next to the shower, there were two
walnut cabinets topped with the same marble that surrounded the bathtub. Square,
white bowls formed the sinks. Brushed bronze faucets dipped inside the bowls.
In the back of the bathroom were two private toilets, each with its own louvered
wood door. Walnut shelves were nestled between the two toilets. The shelves
contained rolls of towels and washcloths and baskets filled with magazines, soaps,
and other toiletries. Thick white bathrobes hung on either side of the shelves.

I
walked to the sink to wash my hands, then stilled at the sight of my
reflection. Long blond waves fell below my shoulders, just as they always had,
but the pale face staring back at me was unrecognizable. My lips were still
swollen from Michael’s kiss and my cheeks were flushed, but my blue eyes looked
haunted and sad. “Michael isn’t the only contradiction,” I whispered as I began
washing my hands.