More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(4)
“You broke my nose!” he exclaimed furiously, blood dripping down over his mouth and jaw. Tina gagged at the sight of it and fought valiantly to keep her stomach contents down.
“If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon, Harris,” she said, her voice quiet. “What you did was despicable, and I . . . I hate you for it.”
“Tina.” Just her name. She didn’t know what to make of it. Especially when he’d said it in that quiet, regretful voice.
She shook her head, her sight blurring as she backed out of the room. He didn’t move, merely watching her, blood staining the fabric of his shirt and trousers.
Harris blurrily watched Tina leave—he was having a hard time focusing. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. All he knew was that Tina was mad at him; she had shouted at him, hit him. He frowned, the last thought distracting him as he lifted his hand from his nose and stared at the blood on his palm in fascination. He could feel the liquid warmth dripping onto his bare chest.
Why was his shirt undone? Where were his shoes? That’s when he remembered . . .
Tina . . . they had made love. He smiled at the memory . . . and then winced when the movement of his lips sent a shaft of pain stabbing through his nose and straight into his brain.
His nose was broken.
Something was wrong. He couldn’t quite figure out what. He was hurt. And he was confused, and something had happened. With Tina.
She had looked so beautiful tonight. Her dress had been shiny and pretty, like gift wrapping. He had wanted to unwrap her and keep her as his own.
He had unwrapped her. Unwrapped all that pretty perfection.
He blinked. Why was everything so blurry and out of focus? What was wrong with him?
His last thought before he passed out was that Tina was angry with him. And he needed to find her and make things right.
Chapter One
Present Day
In a family filled with overachieving, beautiful people, Tina was the Disappointment. Her parents had often lamented, out loud and right in front of her, how very much Tina’s lack of ambition and talent in any field whatsoever distressed them. Tina had come to dread all family functions, because every comment aimed at her tended to start, “Do you know what your problem is, Martine?”
Tonight was a prime example—family dinner—with Tina’s perfect siblings and their significant others all present and accounted for. Conrad, the thoracic surgeon, along with his wholesome and thoroughly pleasant and pregnant wife, Kitty. Kyle, the CEO of Jenson Pharmaceuticals, the family company . . . there with his husband, the always impeccably groomed and eminently likable Dumisane Jenson-Sechaba. And, finally, Smith, the youngest of her three older brothers, a disgustingly successful corporate attorney. He was there with his current lady friend, Milla, a chemical engineer.
And then there was Tina, chronically single and working at a library. Part time. One could argue that because of the substantial inheritance she’d received from her paternal grandfather, she didn’t really need to work—none of them did—but that would be frowned upon by their parents.
“Jensons earn their lifestyle.” The words were practically the family motto. Drilled into them since birth. None of this idle-rich business that so many of their social peers embraced with open arms.
“We’re looking to hire a new hospital administrator,” Conrad was saying, and Tina tried not to roll her eyes. “You should interview, Martine.”
Seriously? She hadn’t even finished college. Her brothers often seemed to conveniently forget how unqualified she was to do any of the jobs they kept suggesting she interview for. She frequently wondered if these “lapses” in memory were subtle jabs at her lack of further education.
She sighed and tossed Conrad a glare before shifting her attention back to her chocolate mousse. She attacked it with single-minded focus, relishing the rich taste of the chocolate. So comforting. So familiar.
“Martine.” Her parents never called her Tina. With the exception of Smith, none of her family did. “You don’t mean to finish that entire dessert, do you?” Her mother’s sharp and unwelcome voice intruded into her private chocolate “me time” and jarred Tina out of her happy place.
Her gaze shifted toward the older woman, and she could see how thoroughly repulsed her mother looked at the notion of Tina finishing the substantially sized mousse.
Aaaaaand there it was! As if by clockwork, the other disappointment reared its ugly head . . .
Their only daughter wasn’t the perfect, svelte, gorgeous creature she should have been. That any child of Mercy and Patrick Jenson had turned out less than physically flawless could only be attributed to the mystery and horror of throwback genetics. Tina was short and overweight with pale, freckled skin and a shock of bright-red hair. Not tall, willowy, blonde, and absolutely gorgeous like her mother, brothers, and father. The cuckoo in the nest. The odd one out.
Physically lacking, intellectually ordinary, and, of course, the maker of huge, embarrassing, reputation-ruining, and life-altering mistakes. Tina would never, in a million years, live up to family expectations. And she had stopped trying years ago. That didn’t mean that these family gatherings didn’t bother her, not when she always felt like a complete outsider.
She pushed her mousse aside, and her mother nodded in satisfaction.
“I’ll think about the interview,” she promised Conrad, intending to do no such thing. But sometimes, pretending compliance was the only way to get them off her back.