Broken Page 2

  Continuing my stride with my head held high, my eyes involuntarily landed and locked in on the formidable man standing next to Victor. The infamous Conner Brathwaite. My breath caught in my chest, and my pulse quickened. Conner was the most striking and attractive man that I’d ever laid eyes on. He’d recently moved back home from New York and was one of Quentin’s closest friends. Rumors about the epic bachelor party he threw for Quentin last night was the talk of the entire wedding party. It was evident that some of the groomsmen were still nursing hangovers.

  Amy's bridesmaids filled me in on all things Conner during our Spa day last weekend. His family was practically royalty; their surname was imprinted on hotels across the country. Conner was a notorious bachelor and a mysterious bad boy. Word had it, he loved his women and his bourbon, a little too often. These two vices were often overlooked and excused. His family's connections, their excessive wealth, and his unique ability in securing unobtainable business deals left him untouched. He was one of the most successful moguls of his generation. His keen business sense was revered and feared, at the same time.

  Conner came from old money, was arrogant and condescending, and had a sexual appetite for hot blonds. A few of Amy’s bridesmaids went to high school with him, and one even went to college with him. They all confirmed that although his women never overlapped, he disposed of them regularly, seemingly getting bored rather quickly. To sum it up, he seemed like a real douche, and I wondered why any woman would put up with his antics. Maggie, Amy’s cousin, had shown me a picture of Conner on her phone, as we lay down on our massage tables. In the photo, he appeared to be at a black-tie event with a curvy Victoria Secret model on his arm. He was totally hot, totally sexy, but still, totally not my type. I would be a fool to fall for another rich, arrogant prick who had women fawning all over him. Been there, done that. Bought the damn T-Shirt. And when it was over, I burned it.

  As the last notes were strung on the violins, I neared the front of the aisle. Surprisingly, Conner’s eyes were locked in on me with laser focus. His head was slightly cocked to the side, as his eyes roamed my body. Under his stare, an unwelcomed tightness formed in my belly. It was tragic, the effect this man had on me with only a stare. A slight scowl was etched on his face, which made him even hotter somehow. He had a condescending air about him that screamed I’m an asshole. His body posture oozed confidence and screamed alpha. His pale green eyes were eerily bright, almost glowing, and were striking against his tan skin. It should be against the law to possess the amount of masculine, rugged beauty that Conner had. I could only imagine the number of broken hearts he had collected over the years. Probably enough to build a shrine taller than an Egyptian pyramid.

  My steps faltered a bit under his stare. Dammit. I regained my composure quickly, flipping my long jet-black tresses behind my shoulder with the sway and arch of my neck. I maintained my stride, sashaying to the front of the line. Conner arched a dark eyebrow at me, as if he knew the effect he had on me. His facial expression remained indiscernible. This man was trouble, with a capital T. I felt it in my bones.

  "He totally just eye fucked you," Maggie whispered, hiding her mouth with her bouquet. I cleared my throat, focusing my eyes straight ahead. I didn’t look at Conner again during the ceremony and stayed away from him during the reception. I didn’t need that kind of trouble in my life.

  ∞∞∞

  AMY’S WEDDING RECEPTION WAS outdoors, under a forty-foot clear-top tent, with ivory linens draping the sides, creating a fanciful aura. Dark vinyl plank flooring was installed over the lawn, and opulent chandeliers hung above. The head table was near the front of the structure. Round tables surrounded the outer portion of the tent. Everything was draped in ivory, with enough flowers to fill the balcony of the Orpheum Theater. The dance floor was in the center. The wedding band sang all the top pop and contemporary country hits. I swayed my hips and swung my hair to the music, laughing and dancing the night away.

  My dance card was full, and I shimmied on the dance floor until my toes started to numb. After retiring my dance card, I sipped on a flute of Dom Perignon as I mingled with those in the crowd. I made sure to maintain a comfortable distance between Conner and me. This was for my own sanity and dignity. Not because I was under any illusion that he would pursue me. I wasn’t his type. He also didn’t strike me as the type who had to work for it. And I was not the type to chase it.

  Women, young and old, vied for his attention throughout the evening. He looked almost bored, as women stuck out their breasts, playfully rubbed his arms or chest, or stood with their husbands and significant others, while they ogled him.

  A mural of orange, deep reds and purples painted the sky, as the sun began to set. The sounds of catcalls and popping of champagne corks dispersed throughout the crowd, as Amy and Quentin waved their goodbyes. I held my champagne glass up toward Amy in a mock toast. She blew me a kiss before she and Quentin ran to the white town car that awaited them. As the car drove away, fireworks ignited, shooting up from the ground, along the borders of the road. Cameras flashed. Wedding guests cheered. The guests soon started to disperse, either towards the valet or back inside the tent. I headed towards the tent to say a few goodbyes.

  Before exiting the premises, I spotted Conner standing off near the bar. I was unable to look away. He sipped on what looked like bourbon, engrossed in a conversation with Quentin's father and two more gentlemen. He hadn’t noticed me, so I stared unabashedly at him. That’s a helluva man, I thought to myself. Conner was tall, probably around 6’3. Check. Based on how the slim fit black tuxedo encased his frame, his lean body was ripped with muscles. Check. Check. Check. His hair was dark brown, almost black. His haircut probably cost more than my entire outfit. His thick hair was a couple of inches long on top and tapered short around the sides and back. His tousled hair was slightly unruly, giving his otherwise well-groomed and clean-cut appearance an edge. A slight five o’clock shadow framed his angular face. His sinfully sexy eyes were framed with thick dark eyebrows and long lashes. He had a straight nose and nice lips. Look away, Novalee. Look. Away.

  Conner must have felt my stalker stare because he looked up and our eyes met. The man beside him spoke to him intently, but Conner’s eyes were still focused on me. Conner’s retinas burned into me like jeweled lasers. Giving me a mischievous panty-dropping smirk, he raised his crystal tumbler up towards me in a mock toast, causing the three gentlemen he stood with to look my way. The silver brows of Quentin Sr. rose, as a hint of a smile curved his lips. The two other gentlemen gave me heated stares, the lustful kind, not the angry kind and one readjusted his tie. I looked over my shoulder to make sure that they all were looking at me, instead of some hot chick behind me. Nope. No one around fitted such a description.

  I raised my champagne flute toward Conner in a returning toast, before downing its contents in one swallow. He excused himself from the men he stood with. He strode towards me at an unhurried pace and ignored Maggie as she reached for his arm. I placed my champagne flute on a passing waiter’s tray, turned on my heels, and headed towards the exit. My petite stature made it easy for me to blend in with the crowd. When I stole a glance back, I noticed that Conner had been cornered by a couple of women. They locked their hands around his arms, hindering him from following me. I felt his eyes on my back as I exited the tent. "

  ∞∞∞

  I STOOD OUTSIDE NEAR the valet station, swiping through my phone. I decided to send Fatima a text message.

  Novalee, 9:01pm

  Hey! I saw you at the wedding sitting in the back row. WTH? Wished you could’ve stayed. Any-who, I’m heading home. See you tomorrow!

  "Did you think I would let you get away?" asked a deep tenor voice behind me. The sound of his voice slid through my bone marrow and prickled my skin.

  I turned and found myself face to face with Conner. Man, oh man, he smelled good. Like rain and spice, with a faint hint of citrus. I had to stop myself from inhaling deeply. Even with my shoes adding a few in
ches to my otherwise 5’1 one height, he towered several inches over me. I looked up at him with as much of an aloof expression as I could muster. "I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name." That’s right, Novalee. Cool and collected.

  With a bit of a surprised expression on his face, he answered, "Conner Brathwaite." He extended his hand. His green eyes darkened to a stormy gray. It was mesmerizing.

  "Novalee." I introduced and placed my hand in his large and warm one. We slowly shook hands, the time stretching longer than for a customary handshake. I gently tugged my hand away to release it from his grasp. He wouldn’t let go. "Are you going to give me my hand back?" I gently teased.

  He reluctantly released my hand. The stolid expression of his face softened a bit. "No last name, Novalee?" He slid his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, as he stood rod-straight, his long legs slightly apart. His body posture was casual, yet extremely confident.

  I felt my cheeks start to heat and hoped that he couldn’t see me blush in the moonlight. "Just Novalee," I responded coyly. The roar of my car broke the spell. I looked over at the valet attendant who held my car door open for me.

  I returned my attention back to Conner. "It was really nice to meet you, Conner. You have a great night." I turned and walked toward the college graduation gift from my dad, a candy apple red Lexus RC350 Coupe.

  "Wait, you can’t leave yet." He looked perplexed and yet thoroughly intrigued.

  I sat down in my car and rolled my window all the way down. Closing my door, I added, "Maybe, I’ll see you around."

  Conner took long strides toward me, as I daintily waved my fingers and drove off into the night.

  Chapter 2

  AFTER SCRUBBING LAYERS OF makeup off my face, I sank neck-deep into the scalding hot bubble bath. The smell of lavender and eucalyptus tickled my nostrils. I flipped my black horseshoe septum nose piercing back down, which had been flipped up and discreetly hidden. Upon closing my eyes, visions of pale green irises came to view. I shook my head as if I could literally shake thoughts of Conner out of my mind. A man like Conner couldn't be good for my heart or my peace. My life was finally blissfully uncomplicated. After my very public and very scandalous breakup from NBA star, Andre Johnston, my ego, soul, and self-esteem were in tatters. I had finally nursed my broken heart whole, and I was in no hurry to put it at risk again.

  Andre and I broke up two years ago, and outside of a casual fling that I had with my lab partner, Marcus, I remained single and abstinent. During Andre and my three-year relationship, my face had been plastered all over the Internet, television, and tabloids. People were fascinated with our relationship, as we appeared to be the perfect couple, exhibiting young black love with an endearing storybook romance. I even guest-starred on a popular reality cable television show, which featured girlfriends and wives of professional athletics. Worse mistake of my life. One that my father and stepmother never let me forget.

  Although I wasn’t a leading personality on the show, my breakup was featured front and center. I abruptly quit the show after my breakup and all but disappeared from social media after that. Producers scrambled for inside information and finally reached out to Keisha, offering fame and a paycheck. She jumped at the opportunity to cozy alongside women on the show, who at one point, I thought were my friends. With theatrical tears and feigning remorse, Keisha shared her involvement in the dissolution of my engagement, with her own personal spin, of course. She was now a fan favorite on the show. Love her or hate her, the never-ending drama Keisha added to the show, spiked its ratings and provided her with the lifestyle she’d always wanted. Last I heard she was dating a retired NBA player and living in Los Angeles.

  Andre and I met in undergrad during freshman year. Our romance blossomed during my sophomore year, and we soon became the it-couple on campus. During summer before our junior year, I accompanied him and his family to the Prudential Center in Newark, New Jersey, for the NBA drafts. After being selected during first-round picks to play for the Miami Magics, Andre got down on one knee and proposed to me, placing a diamond ring on my finger.

  A guy like Conner would impede my drama-free life. The sizzling electricity that shot through my body with just one look from him, and the heat that spread between my thighs from only one handshake, was something that I’d never experienced before. Conner was trouble. He was the kind of guy your mother warned you about. The type of guy who broke hearts into dust.

  ∞∞∞

  ON SUNDAY MORNING, I was startled awake by the buzzing of my phone. I rolled over and swiped its screen.

  Fatima, 7:34am

  Wake up sleepy head!

  What time you wanna meet up for dinner?

  Novalee, 7:35am

  OMG. Why are you up so early??

  4:30. The usual spot.

  I lazily rolled out of bed. I had a ton of studying to do for my upcoming Biological Systems exam and wanted to get a morning run in first.

  An hour and a half later, drenched in sweat, I stepped into my building's elevator. I felt invigorated and wide awake, and my legs ached with a good burn. Linkin Park's "Breaking the Habit" cranked out of my headphones as I did my stretches in the elevator up to the top floor of my apartment. I rented this place with the financial help of my father and from my part-time job at a local sewing and alterations boutique. Money wasn't a problem for my family, though I longingly wished for the day when I could be financially independent of my father. To him, money equaled control. The more he gave, the more control he wanted over my life. Sure, I could have comfortably lived somewhere else that didn’t have such high rent, but Helena had fallen in love with this place during my apartment search. "An apartment near the Waterway, downtown…what’s not to love?" she said. She had a point. The views were to die for. And the convenience of being downtown was another plus. My dad, on the other hand, could care less about the exciting nightlife, shopping, parks, and waterfront views this place had to offer. His only request was that I stayed in The Woodlands, near them.

  After a few hours of studying, I showered and washed my hair. My natural curls sprang back to life under the steady stream of the shower. After styling and diffusing my curls, I smiled with satisfaction. When it came to my curls, the bigger, the better. Once my wash n go was diffused and dried, my hair was big enough to block out the afternoon sun and made me the absolute worst person to sit behind in a movie theater. The layers of makeup I wore at Amy's wedding was not my usual style. My low maintenance approach consisted of clear or nude lip gloss, mascara, and maintained eyebrows. Growing up, I was very self-conscious of my heavily freckled face, but recently I'd grown to love the scattered brown freckles that dusted my nose and cheeks.

  I dressed in a pair of distressed denim skinny jeans and a loose white tank top. A pair of brown fringed ankle strapped heels adorned my pedicured feet. Long feather earrings and leather rope bracelets completed my outfit. I grabbed my brown vintage leather bag, cell phone, and keys. The restaurant was a block away from my place, so I opted to walk.

  Fatima had secured a table for us out on the back deck of the restaurant, overlooking water views. She looked Hollywood glam today, with a pair of oversized sunglasses and a strapless white romper with a sweetheart neckline. Her waist-length micro goddess locks were twisted into an intricate bun on top of her head. "Hey cousin," she said, as she rose from her seat to give me a hug.

  "Hey diva," I grinned.

  "Only if I had that R&B singer diva hair of yours." Although my heels and my hair added at least six inches to my height, Fatima towered over me standing at 5’10. I would have been totally jealous of her shapely and toned figure if she wasn't my cousin and I didn't love her like a big sister.

  Just as I took my seat, our waitress approached. "Hi!" A pint-sized bubbly brunette said, enthusiastically. "My name is Sarah." Sarah beamed, revealing clear ceramic braces on bright white teeth. Her straight ponytail swayed as she looked expectantly at the both of us. "Can I get y’all some drinks started?

  "Soun
ds good." I smiled broadly at her. Her sunny disposition was contagious. "I'll have a cosmo."

  "Awesome!" Sarah wrote down the order and then looked expectantly at Fatima.

  "I'll have a Corona," Fatima added.

  "Sounds super! I'll get started on these drinks. Do y’all know what you want to order, or would y’all like more time?"

  "I think we're ready," Fatima chimed in. "I'll have the steak tacos."

  Without looking at the menu, I asked for the same.

  "Awesome! I'll get these orders in right away." Sarah walked away, her shiny ponytail bouncing.

  "I saw you at the wedding. I thought you had to head out for work right away."

  "I had a few minutes to spare," Fatima said casually.

  I pouted. "I wish you could have stayed. We had so much fun at the reception."

  "Yeah, I had plans, so…" she trailed off as she typed into her phone. "Did you take any pictures?"

  "No, but Maggie said she was going to post some on the Gram."

  "Magdalene Manchester?" she asked.

  "Yep." Sarah brought our drinks out, and I graciously smiled at her as she placed them on the table and padded away.

  "I see Conner is still a fine piece of ass." Fatima held her phone out towards me. On the screen was a picture of Conner and Quentin, standing at the bar, each in the process of downing clear liquid from shot glasses. Neither of them seemed aware that their photo was being taken.

  "You know Conner?" I was intrigued but tried my best to appear indifferent.

  "Who doesn't? He's Quentin's best friend. How do you not know him, seeing that his BFF married your BFF?" She turned her phone back towards her and continued to swipe through a few more photos. "He went to Covington with Quentin and me. He was there only during our senior year. Seemed like an okay guy, for someone who always looked pissed off at the world. That never stopped the legions of girls who crushed over him. He banged many hoes back in high school."