Recovering Beauty: The Kane Brothers Book Two Read online

  Recovering Beauty

  The Kane Brothers Book Two

  Gina Azzi

  Recovering Beauty

  Copyright © 2018 by Gina Azzi

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  All rights reserved.

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  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Cover Design by: Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign.com

  Contents

  July

  1. Taylor

  2. Carter

  3. Taylor

  4. Carter

  August

  5. Carter

  6. Taylor

  7. Carter

  8. Taylor

  9. Carter

  10. Taylor

  11. Carter

  12. Taylor

  13. Carter

  14. Taylor

  15. Carter

  16. Taylor

  17. Carter

  18. Taylor

  19. Carter

  20. Taylor

  21. Carter

  22. Taylor

  23. Carter

  24. Taylor

  25. Carter

  September

  26. Carter

  27. Taylor

  28. Carter

  29. Taylor

  30. Carter

  31. Taylor

  32. Carter

  33. Taylor

  34. Taylor

  35. Carter

  36. Taylor

  October

  37. Taylor

  38. Carter

  39. Taylor

  November

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Reclaiming Brave

  Rescuing Broken

  Acknowledgments

  More Books by Gina Azzi

  About the Author

  July

  1

  Taylor

  "You look stunning." Barrington leers at me from the foyer of my parents’ home. His teeth are blinding, his hair perfectly styled, his tuxedo sharp. "As always."

  Daddy clasps him on the shoulder. "Ah, Taylor knows how to light up a room."

  Mom presses her hands together and smiles at me sweetly, her eyes brightening at Barrington's words.

  "Thank you, Barrington." I manage to mutter.

  He nods, turning toward my father to exchange a few words as I stand as still as a statue, blending into the decor of the room like a piece of art. Something to be quietly admired, but still part of the backdrop. My spine is rigid as I try not to fidget. I hate playing this role, the one of the sweet and dazzling young woman delighted to accompany one of Savannah’s most eligible bachelors to a charity gala.

  My heart sinks as Daddy and Barrington discuss business. Business which seems to be failing these days. I’ve heard the hushed conversations between my parents, and noticed the frown lines that have deepened around Daddy’s mouth, the pinch between Mom’s eyebrows. Whatever is happening with Clarke Enterprises is not good, which is why when Daddy asked me to attend several events with Barrington Wade in order to give the Clarke Brand a positive spin in the media, I agreed.

  Except now, staring at Barrington’s back as his shoulders roll forward, the lines of his tuxedo crisp, I cringe. The tinny sound of his voice and the arrogant remarks that constantly fall out of it makes my blood boil. How is it possible to have zero common ground with someone you’ve spent your entire childhood and adolescence mingling with?

  "You ready to go, darling?" Barrington's hand is at the small of my back, an intense pressure digging downward into my skin.

  "Of course," I answer politely, leaning forward to kiss Daddy and Mom goodbye. I wish them a safe and fun trip as they’re catching a flight to California in a few hours.

  Barrington escorts me out of my family home to his waiting black Lamborghini. Not caring much for cars, I know that this sleek bad boy is expensive, exclusive, and an attention grabber. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I place my hand gently in Barrington's to lower myself into the car.

  He crosses around the back of the car, momentarily disappearing from view before settling behind the wheel. "Sorry about the ride, doll," he says, offering me a wry grin, "my Bentley is in for routine maintenance."

  I turn and offer him a toothy grin, attempting to be pleasant, to act like riding in a Lamborghini is exciting even though this scenario grew old when I was in high school.

  Barrington revs the engine and presses a button to flood the car with music from one of his playlists. He raises the volume so conversation is impossible, and we ride to the gala in silence.

  Just the way I prefer it.

  The gala is beautiful: the venue, the decor, the flowers, every single detail decided with careful attention and consideration. The breeze blowing off the river is gentle as it ruffles my hair. I breathe in deeply, holding the air in my lungs as I take in the tiny lights strung throughout the shrubbery, winking like fireflies. I love Savannah.

  Ascending the stairs to the entrance, paparazzi snap photos as Barrington carefully angles us to make sure we're being captured at our absolute best. Once we're inside, he places a hand on my shoulder, his fingers caressing my bare skin, causing a flicker of annoyance to skate up my spine.

  "Remember, darling, we need to make a certain impression tonight. Your father is counting on my closing a few deals that can be lucrative for the both of us. Don't forget your place," he whispers in my ear, his posture casual. To a passerby, it would look like a sweet moment between a young couple. In reality, his tone holds a warning, his words hard and cold.

  Turning, I place my open palm on his cheek and blink. "Of course, Barrington. As long as you try not to act like a complete douchebag."

  His jaw tightens and his nostrils flare at my words, his grip tightening on my upper arm. I pull back quickly and he releases me, his gaze hard. Once his eyes leave me, they sweep across the great ballroom and work a quick inventory of who is present, a calculated assessment of who needs to be approached and who should approach him, and the beginning of a strategy for how the night will unfold.

  "Champagne?" An impeccably dressed waiter holding a small tray filled with champagne flutes stops next to us.

  "Thank you." Barrington nods at him, never making eye contact, as he takes two flutes and places one between my fingers. "Don't drink too much," he growls at me under his breath.

  Noticing that Dr. Harper is weaving through the tables toward us, I manage to keep my smile sweet even as my insides flare in embarrassment. Ever since Daddy enlisted Barrington’s help with his business negotiations, Barrington has used my family’s slipping financial security to boss me around and treat me like a piece of trash instead of an equal. It’s not surprising; Barrington thinks he’s above everyone anyway. Still, his callousness stings and as I bite my tongue, I feel ashamed for not putting him back in his place. I hate that he got the last word. For now, at least.

  It seems like hours pass before we take our seats for dinner. I spot my friend, Isabella, at another table. I wave at her and she waves back, her eyes scanning my dress before she sinks into her seat.

  Barringto
n introduces himself proudly to our table, and the rest of the guests follow suit. When it's my turn, I open my mouth to say hello when Barrington cuts in, "This is my date, Taylor Clarke. You probably know her father, Joseph, of Clarke Enterprises."

  A few knowing looks and nods take place, and I feel my cheeks redden at Barrington's obvious dismissal of me. I'm only of use to him because of my father and his company. If Barrington wasn’t angling to acquire the controlling shares in Clarke Enterprises, I wouldn’t be here tonight. Clearly that would be a relief for me, but it would devastate Daddy.

  It’s an old, repetitive storyline and it depresses me that the ending has been the same with all of the guys I’ve dated since college. They chase after me, swearing their good intentions up and down until I’m cross-eyed but after a handful of dates, it becomes obvious that I'm only of use to them because of the attention that showers our relationship from my last name, Daddy's business connections, and my own modeling background. Since I recently landed the lead modeling gig for designer Adriana Rose's Fall and Winter lines, the phony male attention has increased.

  "You look so familiar, darling," an older man to my right comments, peering at me.

  "Oh, I volunteer a lot with the Big Brothers and Big Sisters of Georgia. Perhaps you've come to one of our fundraisers?" I ask, using every opportunity I can to plug the organization responsible for my sanity. I can’t wait until tomorrow and my standing Saturday dinner date—pizza and Coke and fries—with Ria, my little sister through the program.

  The group titters, and Barrington laughs boisterously, his large hand coming down to squeeze my thigh underneath the table.

  "She recently graced the cover of Vanity Fair. She's the exclusive model for Adriana Rose's new campaign," Barrington explains, pride coloring his eyes as he watches the group for their reactions.

  "Ohh, I love Adriana Rose! Do you get to keep the gowns?" the wife of the man to my right asks.

  "No, but that would be amazing," I say, turning toward her to explain more of Adriana's new line when the comments cut me off.

  "No wonder you're so thin."

  "That's it! I knew I knew you from somewhere."

  "How exciting! The life of a model."

  "Oh, Barrington, you must be so proud."

  "Do you have a strict diet and personal trainer?"

  "How'd you land that job?"

  The questions surge forth like an uncontrollable wave and my heart sinks. Digging my fingers into the satiny material of my gown, I keep my face smooth, glancing at each guest at our table as I answer their questions one by one. I remind myself that I’m doing this for Daddy, for our family. Slowly, Barrington's hand releases me. We eat dinner. And I remember that no matter my passions or interests or skills, nothing will ever outshine my looks or the perception that accompanies them. At least in this social circle.

  Most of the time, being deemed a “socialite” isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Not at all. But tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll see Ria. I know she'll make me laugh until I snort soda from my nose and talk me into ice cream sundaes afterwards. She'll make me feel normal and grounded and like me once more.

  2

  Carter

  “Electricity?” Denver drops the bill on top of the pile of envelopes and I look up at him over my laptop.

  “Paying it now.”

  My brother blows out a deep breath and slides onto the barstool next to me. He taps his fingers against the top of the butcher block island and glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You wanna explain to me how we’re so low on cash this month?”

  “Nope.”

  He sighs again. “Everything okay, Carter? You in some type of trouble or something?”

  I shake my head, biting the corner of my mouth to keep from grinning. “No trouble.” I meet Denver’s gaze. He stares at me for a beat before picking up his beer bottle from earlier and taking a giant swig.

  It’s the truth. For the first time in a long, long while, I’m not in any trouble. Last month, I did my last bidding for the Devil’s Shadows Motorcycle Club and this month, we’re feeling the financial strain of that decision. But man, do I sleep a hell of a lot easier at night knowing I’m not going to get my ass handed to me in an underground boxing match or have to oversee an illegal poker game. Now, I’m just poor. Really, really poor.

  But I’d take that any day of the week.

  “We’re going to have to cut back on groceries.” I say aloud, a burst of guilt blooming in my chest when Denver’s tired eyes meet mine again.

  “Alright. I’ll take a few more jobs this week anyway. Don’t sweat it. We’ll figure it out. We always do.” He watches me for a moment, his dark eyes thoughtful. After a long beat, he nods, as if resolving whatever he reads in my face with his own thoughts and I know, just know, that even though I didn’t say anything, Denver somehow understands. He gets that this isn’t just a one-month thing. That I’m actually not going to be pulling in as much money as I once was.

  And for whatever reason, he knows that’s okay too.

  "It's four days past due, Kane," Texas Ink reminds me over the line. He sounds casual, as if he's sitting on his front porch spitting sunflower seeds, but I know better than to trust his lazy tone. Texas Ink may be casual, but his boss, Griller, is anything but.

  "That sucks, man. I’m sure he's gonna come up with the money." I drop my head back against the lumpy cushions of the living room couch, my feet kicked up on the coffee table, and the controller for my Xbox One still clutched in my left hand.

  "Uh-huh. Heard that one before, blondie."

  I wince at the nickname, mainly because it's for a girl. Ink's reminding me I'm too damn pretty to mess around with his MC, Devil's Shadows. But I’m not trying to mess around. I’m out. Done. Getting some bigshot to step up to their underground poker game was my last piece of club business until the Devil’s Shadows and I were squared up.

  "I don’t know why you’re even calling me about this. The deal with Griller was to get the man to show up and throw down. Not to be responsible for his losses."

  He lets out a deep sigh, and I can picture him rubbing the lines between his eyebrows. "I’m giving him another week, Kane. After that, shit. I don’t know anymore.”

  The line goes dead, and I blink my eyes open. What a mess. I should have known better than to trust anything that comes out of Griller’s mouth. I’m sure he’s going to try his damned hardest to pull me back into the Club fold but this time, there’s nothing they can threaten me with to make me agree. I toss the controller on the coffee table, a flicker of satisfaction rippling up my spine as it skips twice before tumbling to the floor.

  I turn off the gaming system and pop into the kitchen for a Coke. "Hey superstar. How was your campus tour?" I drop a kiss to the top of Evie's head as I pass her sitting at our kitchen island.

  My brother Jax scowls at me, and I flip him the middle finger.

  "Amazing!" Evie's face grows animated, her eyes widening with excitement. "I still can't believe I got in. The Dean is brilliant, and the scope of study is going to be crazy challenging." Her smile grows, and Jax and I exchange a look.

  I twirl my finger next to my head to indicate that Evie's crazy and Jax nods.

  "Oh shut up." Evie slaps the back of her hand against his stomach and he doubles over.

  Evie and I crack up.

  "I forgot how annoying y'all could be when you're together," Jax wheezes.

  I offer Evie a high-five.

  "You guys find a place yet?" I ask.

  My brother and Evie just got back from San Antonio where they're moving at the end of summer as Evie's enrolled in a PT program at Army-Baylor starting this fall. Truth be told, as happy and relieved as I am to see my brother and Evie back together again, I'm also a bit down that they're leaving so soon. It's like I just got them both back and they’re heading out the door, onto greener pastures and brighter lights. Or whatever the fuck it is people say.

  "Think so," Jax supplies, looking to Evie to e
laborate.

  "It's a really cute house. Not too far from campus and close to a park. It's two bedrooms so, obviously, we expect you to visit us. Frequently." She fixes me with a look and I nod, my throat suddenly tightening, although I can't explain why.

  Evie continues to talk about their new home, the Baylor campus, and random facts about San Antonio. My brother gazes at her with such longing and admiration in his eyes, it's hard to watch the two of them interact and not feel a punch to the gut.

  They're meant for each other. I knew it the first time Jax brought Evie home when they were seventeen. Back then, she was focused on West Point, and he was torn about his own future. When he ended up enlisting, Evie was heartbroken. She was always more like a sister than a friend to me.

  My stomach sours as my thoughts turn toward everything that happened after their graduation. I almost cost Evie her future once. The fact that she's pursuing her life again, the fact that she and Jax are tangled up once more, the fact that she has forgiven me at all, are too many good coincidences. And I don't deserve any of them, which is why I’m on the right path now. From now on, I’m all about giving back and paying it forward and whatever the hell else it is do-gooders do. I’m redeeming myself. Kind of.