Broken (New York Heirs #2) Read online

  The two-floor watchtower was nestled right in the edge of the treeline where it opened to the cliffs. In the daytime it was stunning and impossible to miss, but now the gray stone blended perfectly into the darkness.

  I headed up the short flight of steps to the only door leading to the tower and took out a key hanging from a chain I kept about my neck.

  “Fair warning, O’Kleeson helped install a new door and lock when I found it, but there’s no way to get electricity in here without bringing in a generator. I didn’t want to scare the animals away so I’m using candles.”

  I heard Theo moving behind, and my heart kicked when I felt his presence close in on me. The heat from him warmed my back, and I had to stop myself before I shifted closer to him.

  He stared past my arm into the darkness where I held the door open. “After you.”

  I smiled, surprised at the unexpected chivalry. “That's nice of you.”

  Theo raised a brow. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a precaution in case the floor crumbles beneath us, upon which I’d have time to back away to safety.”

  Asshole.

  I led the way up the short spiral of stone steps to the second floor, all the while aware that Theo was following close behind me. “Careful, it’s dark here. It’ll get better once we go up to the room where there’s a window...”

  We emerged into the small room that was half the size of my bedroom back in the mansion.

  “This is it.” I threw my arms out, grinning expectantly. “What do you think?”

  Theo regarded the bare stone walls and floor warily, as if waiting for something venomous to spring out. “It’s a bloody pile of rocks.”

  “It’s rustic! I added these rugs myself, sourced them from one of the rooms in the mansion that wasn’t used.” I paused, looking around in contemplation. “I really wish there’s some way to put a coffee maker in here, though. I need coffee. My love for it is like my hair; ever-growing, unconditioned, pretty dang unhealthy…”

  Theo was unamused.

  “Whatever, your loss.” I busied myself with hunting for a pebble on the ground before slipping it into my pocket.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, just a souvenir.”

  There was a myth around this parts that if you took a pebble from a spot and kept it, one day you would revisit it with your true love to return it.

  Stupid, I know, which was why I wasn’t going to give Theo another reason to laugh at me.

  With the pebble safely in my pocket, I went to the storage box I’d lugged here two months ago and carefully withdrew a set of paints and a sketchbook.

  “I’m going to paint now,” I informed him, “so if you can hold yourself back from making sarcastic remarks, it will be much appreciated. It’ll be an hour, two, tops.”

  Theo sat down on the stone floor and leaned back against the wall, propping one knee up and stretching his other leg out. “You want me to sit in this slum for two hours and not say a word about it? I’m not that strong.”

  I glared. “You can go if you want. Pretty sure I won’t even notice.”

  “We'll see.”

  I went to the low opening in the wall that served as a window overlooking the sea, setting my things up on the sill.

  “It’s almost a year since you came,” I thought aloud, “but somehow it feels like you’ve always been here. You’ve really settled in and made this place your home, huh?” I blinked when there was no reply from Theo. “Are you listening? You’re being very quiet.”

  “You’re not.” Theo was fiddling with his phone, apparently bored of me already. “Are you here to paint or talk?”

  “I’m giving you an example of polite conversation,” I said archly. “It would help you out a great deal if you learned that skill.”

  “I beg to differ. I get my way all the time precisely because I’m impolite about it.”

  Impolite? Ha. Talk about an understatement.

  Theo was more like an everlasting gobstopper of sneering sarcasm.

  “You thrive on conflict, don’t you?” I said in the most casual tone I could manage. I could feel Theo’s gaze snap to me, sharp as a knife. “It makes you stronger because you always come out on top. And if I engage in any conflict with you, I’d lose too. You’re a coconut in a fruit bowl,” I explained. “I am but a grape, in danger of being squished.”

  Theo stared at me, looking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “And that gives me an idea. The way to get an edge over you is to not give in to that, so here’s my plan.” I busied myself with setting up my paints, ignoring Theo’s increasing ire. “You won’t get conflict from me, Theo Valentine. I’ll be nice and kind and patient, and you won’t know what to do about it.”

  Theo went deathly silent for a long moment. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he finally said.

  His tone sounded casual enough, but for some reason it felt like the air in the room had changed.

  “I'm not,” I said carefully, daring a glance at him. “You’re unpredictable, but no, I don’t think I’m afraid of you.”

  Theo’s eyes took on a lazy gleam. “Aren’t you daring,” he murmured. “But one thing is constant, whether you’re the poorest beggar or the most powerful man.”

  He pushed to his feet in predatory grace, and I went still as he stalked over and crouched down in front of me, his amber gaze piercing me like an arrow.

  “Fear,” he said simply. “And once you find out a person's fear, you feed it to him in gradual doses. Strip him of everything that makes him who he is.” He picked up a twig lying on the stone floor, twirling it in his long fingers. “You reduce him to nothing in his own mind, and that’s when you break him with the smallest push. It's as easy as this.”

  He snapped the twig in half with a crack.

  I gulped.

  “The reason you're not afraid,” he continued casually, “is because you've never had reason to be afraid. You’re a plump little rabbit in a hutch, sheltered and completely ignorant of the world outside your little seaside town.” Theo cocked his head. “Let's see if we can remedy that, shall we?”

  I froze as Theo wrapped his hand around my throat in a soft caress. His amber gaze watched me like a hawk.

  “Does this scare you?”

  “No.”

  His hand tightened around my neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to make me nervous. “How about now?”

  I shook my head, and my neck brushed against his warm palm as I moved. “No.”

  That was a lie. My hands that were braced against the stone floor were turning cold. Theo could seriously hurt me if he wanted, and I wouldn't be able to stop him.

  Theo increased the pressure, moving me back the few inches until my head and back were pressed against the wall.

  He tilted his head. “Now?”

  I drew in a shallow breath, releasing it in a slow exhalation. “Nope.”

  “Liar,” Theo murmured softly. He studied me for a moment before he removed his hand and released me.

  My hand shot up to my neck. It didn’t hurt, but my skin felt burned all the same.

  “Another thing, Beckett. When a guy has his hand around your neck, you fucking scream and kick him in the balls.” He glanced at my huddled posture in cold amusement. “Not freeze like a rabbit.”

  “Would you have hurt me?” I asked solemnly.

  “I could have.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Would you believe me even if I told you?” Theo rolled his eyes when I remained in stubborn silence.

  “No,” he said impatiently. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

  I drew my knees up and sat back against the wall. “You don’t have to act this way, you know, trying to make people scared of you. It’ll get lonely very quickly.”

  Theo speared me with a look that promised death. “An admirable effort to get into my head, but if you don't stop I'm going to trash this place.”

  “I'm just being friendly!
Why can't you just play nice for one second?”

  “Losing your cool already? What happened to not getting into conflict with me?”

  I ground my molars, resisting the urge to scream. I know I said I’d be as conflict-free as a lab-grown diamond, but Theo made it so freaking hard.

  “I think you should head back to the house,” I finally managed. “It’s too boring here for you.”

  Theo went back to his spot and got on his phone again. “I’ll leave when I decide to, princess, and not before.”

  “Sure. Until that happens, let’s not talk.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine!” I turned my back on him and got to painting.

  I lost track of time as I worked. It had to be over an hour later when I finally stretched my arms and turned around to see if Theo had left.

  He hadn’t. He was…

  Asleep?

  I squinted at him. He had leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, his breathing slow and even.

  Now that those cruel golden eyes were shut and his lips were parted ever so slightly, Theo looked downright heart-breaking. His dark hair tumbled over his forehead, brushing over his brows that had relaxed in slumber. It was all too easy to forget that I was alone in a dark forest with a guy who dealt violence and fear as his currencies.

  I got on my hands and knees and gingerly inched closer.

  This must be how Theo Valentine’s nicer twin would look, if he had one. His hair was thick and soft-looking, his lips surprisingly full, and his black t-shirt and faded jeans gave the illusion that Theo was a regular seventeen-year-old who worried about high school things like grades and dating and prom, not one who was trying to establish a dictatorship over an entire town and take over my father’s business.

  My gaze kept going back to his lips.

  Hurtful things had come out of them, but now they looked relaxed and inviting.

  Soft.

  I frowned when I noticed a cut on his bottom lip, probably from one of his fights. It was nearly healed by now, but it had to have hurt.

  I reached out slowly…

  Without warning, Theo’s hand shot up to grasp my wrist in a painful grip. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  My eyes snapped up to see Theo glaring at me in pure fury, his face only inches from mine.

  “You have a cut on your lip—”

  Theo tossed my hand aside, and I noticed that his own hand was cold.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarled, the cool, sarcastic façade from earlier vanishing like smoke.

  “Why are you being such an ass?” I rubbed my wrist. “I was just trying to be nice.”

  “I have no doubt about that.” Theo’s expression was downright cruel now. “You’re nice because you want so badly to be liked. You crave approval, which begs the question…” He cocked his head menacingly. “Are you truly nice? Or is it all an act to be well-liked? Tell me, I’m dying to know.”

  My face grew hot. “I’m not acting! I don’t care what people think about me, I’m nice because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Or perhaps it has something to do with how your father ignores your very existence,” Theo continued mercilessly. “You desperately want approval, so you have no choice but to seek it elsewhere.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Your greatest fear is rejection, isn’t it? To be unwanted?”

  “Stop it!” I shoved at him so hard he fell back against the wall.

  Theo looked taken aback at my outburst, but I couldn’t care to relish that.

  I turned and blinked away the angry tears that had formed. “My god, you’re such an asshole,” I whispered.

  Theo was silent for a long moment.

  “It’s a habit,” he finally said, sounding stiff. “I tend to… dissect things in my head.”

  “Whatever.” I turned my back on him and went back to the window, still feeling shaken. “You can hate me, but you don’t have to be cruel.”

  “I don't hate you.”

  I refused to turn around. “Well, I think I hate you.”

  Theo went silent again for several minutes.

  “I apologize.” He said it in such a low tone I almost missed it.

  I didn't reply, choosing instead to focus on my painting. It didn't escape me that the Devil of San Juan had just said sorry and meant it.

  It was also the moment I realized something new about Theo Valentine. He may be an evil jerk, but at least he knew how to apologize.

  That was a start.

  Present Day

  I found myself in my study again, in a similar echo of the night a week ago when Karin had come to me.

  Every night since had been spent idling around in my apartment, obsessively checking the clock at midnight, as if by some stroke of luck she would come to me again.

  She hadn’t, and I’d never felt more relieved, or more bitter.

  It was for the best, anyway. That little trick I’d pulled had been nothing short of idiocy. I had spent a decade trying to put Karin out of my mind, and it took a scant fifteen minutes in her presence for any progress I’d made to be completely annihilated.

  I downed a mouthful of vodka straight from the bottle, staring out the windows at the city beyond.

  Even at night, New York was as quiet as a fish market by a wharf, a far cry from the peace of Karin’s watchtower. There were few other places that suited my preferences quite like the city that never sleeps. There was always bustle, always noise to fill the otherwise silent background that made the echoing in my head seem even louder.

  Karin and her sister had moved here after their father’s death, and naturally I took up residence across the country to be away from her. Seattle wasn’t as chaotic as I liked, but it was crowded, and more importantly, it was a thousand miles from Manhattan.

  Big fucking load of help that did me. I had resolved never to be in the same city as Karin again, yet here I was, just miles away from where she slept at night.

  And then I nearly mauled her within minutes of seeing her again.

  What a bloody disaster.

  My phone vibrated on my desk then. I crossed the room in ground-eating strides, snatching up the phone to see who it was.

  It wasn’t Karin. The text came from Liam Berling, an acquaintance from college.

  “Match @ Madison tonight. U in?”

  Madison was Berling’s code name for an unused factory space in Brooklyn that held events that were less than legal. It was a damned sight better than rotting here and going insane with my thoughts about Karin.

  I fired back a reply to Berling and started getting dressed.

  “There you are,” came a sarcastic voice at my door. “I've been looking everywhere.”

  I half-turned to see my secretary at the door, glowering at me over her wire spectacles.

  It was odd; I’d always thought I’d hire a redhead to mess around with whenever I got bored. Instead, I got an elderly floral-dress-wearing Catholic whose screeching grandchildren were the light of her life.

  “Security let you in without my permission,” I muttered. “They must be sick of their jobs.”

  “You leave them alone. I proved that I was your employee, so they weren’t wrong to let me in.”

  “Yes, they were.” I gave the file under her arm a dark look. “Your morning reports are more effective than Advil; you might as well kill me and be done with it.”

  “It’s already midnight.”

  “Like I said. Morning.” I took a clean shirt that matched my black slacks and shrugged it on.

  Mrs Smith frowned. “And just where are you going at this time?”

  “Church.”

  Her lined face crinkled further with reproach. “Don’t patronize me, Theo, I know it’s somewhere unholy. You didn’t even show up to work today. You do realize you have a job?”

  “I also realize I have no fucks to give.”

  “Theo! Language!”
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  “Fuck my language.” I yanked on a navy jacket impatiently. “I hired you peons for the sole purpose of doing my work for me while I indulge in any fucking vice that strikes my fucking fancy.” I slammed the closet door hard enough to vibrate the walls. “Not to mention this is only the branch office. Perhaps if they did something interesting once in a while, I might deign to show up.”

  Mrs Smith’s eyes seemed to smolder behind her thick glasses. “Ever since you came to New York, you’ve been distracted by negative influences!”

  “Quite sure I’m the negative influence here, Tabitha.”

  “You don’t show up for work, you don’t handle any cases, you don’t meet with any clients. I know you know important people who need our services, Theo.”

  I rolled my eyes as she bustled after me, nagging like a hen.

  It had been a good idea to hire Mrs Smith back when I was just starting out with my company. I had needed someone capable and trustworthy, and there had only been one person I knew who fit the bill—our housekeeper from San Juan.

  Now I found myself wishing she took her job a little less seriously.

  “I do know a handful who’ve fucked up so badly they’re eager to shell out a quarter million for it to go away,” I cut in. “A couple of them have even approached me.”

  Mrs Smith clasped her hands. “Oh Theo, that’s wonderful! Where are the files?”

  “Possibly up their asses where I told them to shove it.”

  A shocked silence. “Why?”

  “I'm tired of cleaning up the messes of others when I can barely fix my own,” I murmured as I checked my hair in the mirror.

  “Then fix it! Stop all this nonsense!” Her short gray curls practically frizzled. “You’re wasting your life away, Theo!”

  “As is my right. I started the company as a distraction, not a burden.”

  Horace’s murder had done a complete number on me, and I had been desperate to throw myself into something that would consume me.

  As far as I was concerned, there were only a few options open to a man in my situation.

  He might choose to pursue law, for one, to understand the very thing that he had cheated, and perhaps to set about discovering all the loopholes he could find to cheat it some more.