Irresistibly Broken (Irresistibly Yours, #1)

by J. Saman

Gulp. This is why people need people in their lives who are ride or die and always have their backs. I have a bestie, but who couldn’t use more people? “I think I like you.” “Don’t. I’m a fucking asshole.”

My stomach squeezes tight. I want this woman. Impertinent mouth and all. She knew who I was and yet she mouthed off to me anyway. No one, I mean no one, does that. Not even Lamar or my asshole friends or my fucking brother. Okay, maybe my friends and my fucking brother, and yeah, likely Lamar too, but the rest of the world treats me with kid gloves and practically jerks me off anytime I enter a room. She didn’t seem to care.

I stiffen, the accusation in her words hitting me all wrong, a penetrating slice through my armor. “Who says I’m not happy?” A frown mars her pretty face. “Everyone. The world.” Her frown deepens and I see it in her blue eyes. The pity. The headlines as they dance through her brain. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was careless and insensitive. It’s not as if you don’t have your reasons for being this way.”

I practically shove her away, taking a step back and breathing hard. “I’m done here,” I announce and

storm off without so much as a backward glance at anyone. Not today. Today I’m allowed to hurt as much as I need to hurt. The model can fuck off right along with everyone else who gives me that look. I’m done with her. An unwanted diversion, I should have fired her this morning when I had the chance. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

“I see you’ve met Howie.” She switches gears, catching my hint. “Isn’t he adorable? If he didn’t have a girlfriend already, I would have totally shipped the two of you.” “I’m right here,” Howie says, though there is no bite to his words. “Yes, darling. I see that plain as the freckles on your handsome face. Promise if you ever break up with your leading lady, you’ll take mine on.” “Iris, I’m right here too.” She laughs, waving us both away.

“Why do I have to have such a mouth on me?” Her hand grasps my forearm. “Because you are entitled to one as we all are. No one questions Zax’s mouth or even Valencci’s. Why? Because they have more power? Fuck that. You had a designer steal your dress and not only claim it as hers, but when you attempted to speak out about what she did, she blackballed you against every possible internship out

there. So now you’re here. And maybe you said some things you shouldn’t have. You were disrespectful and I get it. He’s the boss. But fear of speaking up is what has consistently placed women in the dark ages and had us not viewed as equals. Be bold. Be strong. And if this is where it ends for you here, remember you are brilliant and talented. Carve your own path without requiring the aid of anyone else.” My heart swells. “Thank you. I needed that. More than you’ll ever know. Can I have your children?”

Since the moment I lost Suzie, nothing in my life has made sense. Nothing has felt right. My world has been… gray. Gray and monotonous, but other than my bad temperament, no one has challenged me. No one has dared to call me unhappy. Till her.

“I received your text,” I start, still not bothering to turn around, which is more self-preservation than being a dick, but it serves both purposes. “Yes. I know you did, though I didn’t mean to send it to you.” “Was your boyfriend accusing you of having a moment with your boss?” She laughs, though there is no humor in it. “My boyfriend? Is that your way of fishing?” I don’t reply because yes, it was, and the inane jealousy it breeds only fuels my rancor. What is wrong with me? Where is all this coming from?

“No.” A giggle. “Holy wow. Thank you.” She flies out of her chair, her arms wrapping themselves around my neck as she hugs me to her, and my grip on my desk tightens so I’m not tempted to do something stupid. Like hug her back. Lord, I never pray because you and I aren’t on speaking terms after what you did to Suzie, but if you could make this woman smell like dog shit instead of heaven and feel like razors instead of everything right, I’d be forever grateful.

Everyone reacts differently to loss, but true loss affects everyone the same way. That’s why it’s so hard to get over. Because once you lose someone, they take some of you with them. You’re never quite whole again and the rest of you is constantly trying to compensate for that missing piece.

Aurelia: You want me to work for you? You know that comes with my mouth, right? Aurelia: Crap, I know that sounded dirty, but it wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t mean to insinuate that my mouth works for you or does things for you. Aurelia: And yeah, wow, I just made that a whole lot worse. I swear, that’s not what I was thinking about. I’m nervous about this. You make me nervous. I chuckle, rubbing my finger along my bottom lip, rereading her words.

I think her words through, giving myself a good, hard look. She’s right. That is me. Or more appropriately who I want to be. “I’ve got this.” She gives my shoulders a squeeze. “You’ve got this. Now get your adorable ass upstairs and show those executives precisely what you’re made of. And while you’re at it, give your boss a rub and suck.” “Iris!” I blush seven shades of Hades. “What? Lord knows the man could use a good blow job and a few well delivered Os to get rid of the perpetual pinched brow and scowl on his far too handsome face.” “Well, those BJs and Os won’t be coming from me.” She purses her red lips to the side. “Pity. I bet he has a pretty dick to match his pretty face and I’m curious to know if he still remembers what to do with it. Now get.” She smacks my ass toward the door. “You can’t be late on your second first day.”

To: Aurelia Whitlock From: Zaxton Monroe, CEO Subject: RE: RE: Appropriate Workplace Dress Is this your way of resigning from your new position? Because if you don’t change prior to that meeting, you’re officially out the door. Same if you ever say happy morning to me again. Zaxton Monroe To: Zaxton Monroe, CEO From: Aurelia Whitlock Subject: RE: RE: RE: Appropriate Workplace Dress I officially don’t like you. How’s that for official? And my happy morning was ironic. I hope your morning is spent with bitter, two-day-old coffee, undercooked eggs that leave you with food poisoning, and people finally telling you exactly what they think of you. I’d be more than happy to go first. I will change, but I can’t promise you’ll like it. Aurelia

I know, wah, poor me, I’m pretty. Big shit. If I didn’t need it to survive when I was younger, it wouldn’t have mattered to me. Beauty is fleeting. It’s skin-deep. It’s misleading and dangerous. Ted Bundy was considered charming and handsome and look at what he did. And no, obviously I’m not a serial killer, but I’m tired of people only taking the outside of me as my true value.

“Perfect. Now let’s go.” Taking my hand, we sprint out of the shoot area and back onto the elevator. “He’s going to fucking die when he sees you.” “Who?” I get a look that says don’t bullshit a bullshitter. “Really, bitch?” “That wasn’t my goal.” “Really, bitch?” I roll my eyes at him while pursing my lips, annoyed I’m so readable when I pride myself on being anything but. “Not for the reasons you think. I was just angry he made me change and wanted to cut off his nose to spite his face.” He holds up a hand. “Fine. That I’ll buy. Mission accomplished. I bet he’ll never make you change again.”

“You won’t fire me,” she says in a sing-song voice. “You need me for Marie. And you don’t scare me, Zax. But you do still make me nervous.” She gives me a wink, then practically skips out of my office in those goddamn polka dot heels.

Zax. She called me Zax. Not Mr. Monroe. “That’s not being professional,” I call after her. “I’ll work on it,” she promises. “You’re just so much fun to rile up. Like playing with an irritable bear after hibernation.” She closes the door behind her.

My phone chimes with a text and I pick it up to see it’s from Lamar. CLOSET NOW! “Wow,” Nate muses, reading over my shoulder. “Those are some shouty caps.”

My can of soda shoots out of my hand, flying high in the air and landing on the carpet beside me. Liquid immediately spills out, seeping along the fibers and into my hair. That’s when everything else hits me. Donuts. An entire box of them. Covered in frosting and sprinkles and sugar glaze. Filled with jelly and custard. All of them on me. “Fuck!” A voice I don’t recognize. I blink up at the ceiling. What the hell, Mondays?! “Holy fuck of fuckers.” “Agreed,” I grumble. “Are you okay?” I blink and then scowl. “Shit. Right. Of course you’re not okay. You’re covered in donuts and Diet Coke. Silver lining? At least I didn’t drop the coffee. Think of the burns.”

“For real, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you actually okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’ve never been so wet and sticky in my life. And before you go there…” I start cracking up. “Hell, I just said that, didn’t I?” He’s laughing too. And his smile is so damn cute. Boyish and loaded with dimples and sparkling, crazy-colored eyes. “You did. I won’t even pretend my mind didn’t go straight to the gutter with it. That’s classic.” I feel a finger swipe something that is likely frosting from my face and watch as he pops the digit into his mouth, licking it clean. “Delicious.” I’d blush if I did that sort of thing. “That’s a total player move.” “It might be. That bother you?” “You mean the fact you’re flirting with a girl who has pink frosting and Diet Coke making a love child in her hair? I’m a total catch right now. How could you not flirt?” He falls onto the clean side of the floor beside me, clutching his chest. “And I’m dead. Like right here.” “Death by donuts and caffeine. I think I’ll join you.” A handsome smirk against his gray, sparkling eyes. “I’ve been told there are worse ways to go.” “Me too. But I think I win for today.” “Nah, babe. We both win. You’re all wet and sticky, and I’m the one who made you that way.” My hands cover my face as I start laughing uncontrollably. “Oh, you went there, Mr. One Upper.”

“More than so. It’s fact.” We turn to face the front and there is Zax, scowling at us like a madman. “Morning, bro. I’m escorting your lovely Aurelia down for a costume change. You missed it. We just had the best meet-cute we’ll tell our grandchildren about one day. I guess it’s true what they say about the early bird.” He winks at Zax. “Wouldn’t you agree?” The doors shut and then we’re shooting down to the twentieth floor. “Did you see his face?” He leans in and whispers to me, though, we’re the only ones on here. “He doesn’t like me very much.”

The doors open and Lamar is right there waiting for us. “You’re late—Ahhh!” he screams. “What the fuckity fuck is this disaster?” “This is Asher Reyes,” I introduce, waving a hand toward Asher and making him crack up again. “But I don’t think it’s fair to call him a disaster.” “Woman, do not test my patience right now.” Lamar fingers a piece of my hair, then drops it just as quickly with a shudder, his expression one of pure, abject horror. “Do I want to know?” “Donuts and Diet Coke. Please don’t ask. But can I take a shower before you beauty me up?” “Yes. Please. Now. I can’t stand this sight for another second. The showers are in the back of the bathroom. Go and I’ll have something waiting for you when you get out. But move quickly because we’re on the clock. We cannot be late for this meeting.” “So I’ve been told. Bye, Asher.” I give him a wave. “It’s been interesting.” “Bye, Aurelia. I certainly hope I get to see you again soon.” He takes my hand and kisses the back of it.

“You want another drink or is it just the water for you?” the bartender asks, resting his elbows on the counter before me and leaning in. “This one would be on me.” “No, thanks. Just the water. It’s nearing my bedtime.”

I get that all too familiar male grin. “It’s almost my bedtime too. In another twenty minutes, it’ll be last call if you’d like to wait. I’d be happy to take you home and make sure you get to bed safely.” “That’s what I’m here for,” a booming male voice calls out that instantly has me shivering in both nerves and pleasure. “And the only one taking her home tonight is me.”

“Something wrong with what I’m wearing?” he interjects my drool fest. “You’re staring awfully hard.” He’s smirking at me. Jerk. “No.” Gulp. “You look…” Then I laugh. “Yeah, no. Sorry, but evidently alcohol is like veritas serum and I’m a no-go for launch on speaking the truth. I plead the fifth with that question, Counselor.” “What?” I point at him. “Exactly. But why are you here?”

“You sound jealous, Mr. Monroe,” I taunt, batting my eyelashes up at him. He’s unamused, his penetrating gaze on me unrelenting.

“Yeesh. Okay. Keep your shirt on. Or not.” I laugh at my own joke.

“Why are you doing this?” I question, unsure of his motives because last time I checked, he didn’t care too much about me. And I don’t for a second believe this is sexual. He takes a step into me, towering over me, which is no small feat. Especially in my heels. He has to be at least six-five. “I didn’t like the idea of you alone in that bar. Not when—” He blows out a harsh breath, his hands diving through his hair before they land on his hips. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe and no one was taking advantage of you. I know what guys see and want when they look at you. You were obviously drunk and I… I couldn’t stand the thought you were alone and vulnerable.” “I’m always alone, Zax. That’s not something you can save me from.” “But I can take you home and make sure you’re safe.”

The barbarian carried me in here and set me down on the bed. And then… oh! Oh no. Please, please, tell me I didn’t do that. My hands cover my face and I flop over onto the pillow. Shit. I totally did. I demanded his shirt to sleep in. He thought I was kidding. “You want me to take my shirt off so you can sleep in it?” “Well, I can’t sleep in this,” I replied, pulling on the strap of my dress.

“You have two choices, Zax. Either give me the shirt you’re wearing or I’m sleeping in only my panties in your bed since I’m not wearing a bra.” “This isn’t my bed.” “It’s certainly not mine,” I countered, and he emitted a low groan.

“You totally are,” Asher chimes in. “You don’t think it’s creepy. Not by a long shot.” “Because it’s not creepy.” Georgia flips her red head in his direction. “It’s hot. Can I get an Amen on this? Stepsibling and age-gap tropes are hot.” I shake my head, as do the rest of us men. “Not following,” Callan admits for us. Georgia waves him away. “Whatever. Men are hopeless. Continue.”

“Knock it off. You’re all going to be happy for me because I’m happy for me. End of freaking story.” Grey and I exchange a look. “If you’re happy, we’re happy for you,” I say, even if my tone suggests otherwise. “Good.” She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Now let’s start ragging on Asher before this all gets too serious for us to handle.”

“What is this?” I ask, stiff-arming her with my hand pressed into her forehead, holding her back. “I can’t believe you!” she screeches, swatting at me with her kitten claws. “You’re not twelve, Zax. What kind of move is this?” “An effective one.”

“Morning, Lamar,” I call out as the man hurriedly marches down the hall, his phone to his face even as he answers me. “Morning, Madam Liastrange. You look fucking radiant, but why are we not shopping in the closet? I was just there, and you weren’t. I already know your skirt isn’t at Monroe-approved length and I don’t even have to fucking see it. Besides, I had this whole black vamp ensemble going in my head since for some crazy reason I had a dream that you were Bellatrix Lestrange. Hence the new name. Liastrange. Get it?”

“Phew!” Lamar wipes away the nonexistent sweat from his dark brow. “That would have been a fucking monster truck to park on this floor if you had been.” “You know half the time I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Nate hops off my desk, throwing me a wave as he scurries behind Lamar, who sets off once again. “Liastrange, why are you still sitting there?” “Huh?” I shout after him since now he’s practically down the hall. “We need a model to help.” Ugh. “I’m not a model.” “Do you not remember that you’re an intern and that makes you a company bitch conversation? Move!”

“I hate you.” I stand, grab my Diet Coke off my desk, and run after him. “Another lie. If you’re going to make it in this industry, you need to work on your poker face.” Probably true, but he’s never seen me actually work my poker face. I’m a queen.

Aurelia only blew back into my life a few weeks ago and I’m already fucked when it comes to her. She exists in the periphery of my thoughts when I’m not with her and at the forefront of my mind when I am. I can keep fighting it, and I plan to, but right now, I’m looking at a woman I want to drag onto my lap, wrap my arms around, and kiss until everything in her world is as perfect as she is to me.

“I am my own hero. Scars are simply souvenirs you collect along the way. They make you tougher and you learn from them. I’ve learned some lessons the hard way and some the soft way. That’s all I could do.

“Because it’s not just you and it’s time we address it instead of dancing around it.” She runs her hands over her face and through her hair, only to slap them down on her thighs with a resonating clap. “Fine. I like you better when you’re an asshole instead of acting like you care—” “Who says it’s an act?” I cut her off quickly. “Fuck you. Don’t you dare do that to me.” Emotion clogs her throat and damn, has no one ever cared about her? No. They haven’t, have they?

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” I turn, heading for the door. “We’re straight. But you didn’t comment on me calling her your girl.” “Lenox—” I cut myself off, freezing in place. Lenox knows I belong to a club for sex, but that’s all it is. I haven’t been in a relationship or even dated anyone since Suzie. And though Aurelia and I aren’t anything more than what we currently are, the thought of discussing this with him… “I’m fine with it, you know. More than fine with it.”

“I mean it,” he continues. “It’s time. You should find happiness, whether it’s with this girl or not. I should have said something sooner. Years ago, but I… you never seemed interested in anyone until now. Suzie would never want you to live like this. It would piss her the fuck off if she knew how you’ve placed your life on hold.”

“You don’t look like a hanger with boobs.” She smirks. “You’re not supposed to notice my boobs.” “I thought we already agreed that I was going to notice your boobs but pretend I don’t.” “Is this you pretending?” She folds her arms and quirks that brow, still smirking at me. The woman gets off on challenging me and Lord help me, I get off on it too. “Absolutely.”

With that, she spins around, the bottom of her skirt twirling out around her as she sashays to the bathroom. “You’re swaying your hips and ass,” I call out after her. “Stop noticing.” I smile like a son of a bitch. “Not possible,” I murmur under my breath. Then I do, in fact, go for her granola.

That smile she was just giving me is all for him now and I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. He doesn’t stand a chance. “Of course, Lia. I’ll remove your name from the list, and you can have whatever booth you’d like for you and your guest.” “Oh, you’re so sweet. Thank you.” She leans over and plants a soft kiss on his cheek. A blush lights up his face and then he’s seating us in the smaller, darker, back of the room and away from the main VIP floor booth.

I lose track of time. One song bleeds into the next as I attempt to do some work on my phone but to no avail. And just as I give up the fight, a man comes in behind her, placing his hands on her hips. Her eyes pop open and she shakes her head at him, pointing at me as if I’m her date. Her lover. And for the first time in eight years, I realize that’s exactly what I want to be with her.

I don’t normally bother with such trivialities as kissing women, but I had to kiss Aurelia. Her taste. By God, how this woman tastes. I’m a goner.