Breaking Beauty (Twisted Tales, #1)

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Teresa Mummert; All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, photographed, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without explicit written permission from the author.

  ISBN: 9780463164815

  SYNOPSIS

  MASON LOCKE HAD EVERYTHING. Men wanted to be him. Women wanted to be with him. Then he lost it all. With a quick temper and a long memory, he was willing to wait for the perfect moment to take his revenge. It didn’t matter who got in the way. He was content to live the rest of his life alone if it meant he could right the wrongs of his past. But then he met her.

  Annabelle Emerson was running from a life she wanted to forget. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to put it all behind her. That included making a deal with the devil himself if it meant she could finally escape the pain she’d been running from. But then she met him, and she began to question who she could rely on and what she really wanted out of life.

  She knew she shouldn’t trust him.

  He knew she would only get in the way.

  But together, there was no one who could come between them. Even with the lies and the anger, there was something no one could have predicted... they were destined to be together.

  BREAKING BEAUTY IS an adult retelling of the classic fairytale Beauty and the Beast. It is the first in a series of standalone novels by the New York Times & USA Today bestselling novelist Teresa Mummert. Each work features a childhood fairytale with a grownup twist, sure to make readers recapture a piece of their past while satisfying the needs of their matured tastes.

  CONTENTS

  SYNOPSIS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  EPILOGUE

  ONE

  I FELT HIS GAZE SKIM down the exposed milky flesh of my thigh, lingering on the hem of my box-pleated coral skirt. His eyes narrowed as they traveled back up my body to meet mine, and I fidgeted with the lace neckline of my tank top, tugging it up slightly, feeling exposed. My breath faltered as he smirked, amused that he was able to make me squirm from across the expansive room.

  His heather grey t-shirt stretched across his hard chest, and the ink lines of his tattoos drifted below one sleeve, down his thick bicep. He looked like the best kind of trouble. Pressing my teeth into my bottom lip, I struggled to keep my knees from giving out from under me. I didn’t belong in a place like this, and he knew it.

  I scratched at the raised white lines that marred my arm. They didn’t itch, but it was a nervous habit; a reminder that I didn’t belong with these people. I knew it. They knew it. I was along for the ride with Cadence. This was her life, her party.

  “Don’t waste your time,” Cadence called out over the pulsing music, the bass vibrating in my chest. I shook my head, the spell between myself and the bearded stranger broken.

  “I wouldn’t, I wasn’t,” I stammered.

  She lowered her voice, but after several drinks, she couldn’t quite gauge how loud she was whispering. “It’s okay. I know.” She fluffed her curly wheat-colored hair and straightened the plastic and rhinestone tiara on her head.

  “Know what?” I pulled back to look her over.

  “That you’re a... you know... a virgin,” she giggled, and my stomach turned. “Come on. You think you could keep a secret like that from me?”

  I grimaced. “He’s not my type anyway,” I called back as she smirked knowingly.

  “He’s everyone’s type if you know what I mean.” She bit the tip of her tongue, as she eyed him lustfully. “But he’s crazy. He used to do MMA or whatever. Rumor is he killed someone a few years back in a fight. Beat them to death because the guy stepped on his sneaker or something. You know how small towns talk.”

  “That can’t be true,” I glanced down to the floor and tucked my long, chocolate hair behind my ear.

  She shrugged. “I’d still do him.”

  “Who wouldn’t you do?” I teased, causing her to let out a cackle. She could have anyone she wanted. Anyone. And she had proven that a few years ago when she took the one person who had ever told me that he loved me.

  My phone vibrated in my messenger bag, and I dug it out with a groan.

  UNKNOWN CALLER: I miss you.

  “Secret admirer?” Cadence leaned over my shoulder, reading over the message.

  I shrugged. “How? I just got this new phone.”

  “He seems like he really likes you. Maybe I should meet this new mystery guy.”

  I rolled my eyes, shoving the phone back in my purse, unable to hide the venom in my tone. “Wrong number.”

  Cadence shook her head as she handed me her drink. “Here. You need more of this.”

  I sighed, wrapping my lips around the straw and drinking a large gulp.

  “I hope you brought some singles,” Cadence yelled as her fiancé came up behind her and banded his arms around her waist, lifting her from the ground as she squealed. That used to be me. It used to be us.

  “I hope you know we are coming back here when the chicks are up there,” Roland teased as my best friend shook her head, but continued to beam.

  “Ladies... and the few gentlemen who decided to brave tonight’s events,” The announcer on the stage called out into the mic as his eyes landed on Roland’s, and he winked. The women all cheered, clapping loudly. “Welcome to The Ballroom! Let’s get our annual Ladies Night underway. Who is ready for a show?” The sound of enthusiasm was deafening. It made sense Cadence would choose this place for her party. The whole point was to judge others on their appearance. “Where is the lovely bride to be?”

  Everyone turned to Cadence, who threw her arms in the air. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me up toward the stage as I struggled against her grip.

  “Perks of being my maid of honor,” she teased. “You get to have a lap dance with your pick of the strippers.” Most in our circle would have hosted a wine tasting or a brunch, but it was too awkward to snort a line off of your great-grandmother’s china, so here we were. , was the dirty side of the rich and reckless.

  Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes landed on the glowing red exit sign above the door. The second she let go of my hand, I was going to bolt. That’s when I saw him again, the sexy stranger, arms folded over his massive chest, and a devilish smirk playing on his lips. His hair was dark and messy, just touching the tops of his shoulders. He was well over six feet and towered over the other patrons, like a lion in a field of mice.

  “What’s your name, darlin’?” The man with the mic asked, shoving the phallic-shaped device in Cadence’s face. It was prom all over again, and she was the queen of the night.

  “Cadence,” she screamed enthusiastically to more cheers from the crowd as the drinks I’d practically inhaled sloshed inside of my belly, causing me to sway. I could only hope I’d consumed enough to make me forget the horrible embarrassment that was sure to come.

  “And how about you?�
�� He asked. I froze, rubbing my damp palms against my pale pink skirt as the room around me began to spin. I leaned back, my body colliding with the announcer’s chest. “Woah, someone’s excited to be here,” he teased. My head spun. My world tipped on its axis.

  “I got her,” a gruff voice called from behind me as I was lifted into someone’s arms like a baby. How humiliating. Squeezing my eyes closed, I ignored the questions from the other guests as we made our way through the crowd, the fabric of a heavy curtain brushing over my face as the music began to play out in the main room. It faded as we disappeared down a dark hallway.

  “I’m okay,” I managed to mumble, realizing I was being taken to some private location with a complete stranger. Panic radiated from my belly, and I began to shove against his chest. That’s when I looked up to see those haunting green eyes; one dark brow arched that had a scar slicing through the center. From across the room, I felt safe to stare, but now, with only inches between us, I trembled.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. You need to lay down.”

  “What?” My eyes must have bulged out of my head because his chest began to rumble under my fingers with laughter. He knew the power he had over everyone.

  “Relax. I’m just trying to help you. I think you may have had a few too many drinks.” He lowered my body on a small cot in a room that was no bigger than a closet. He turned away from me, and I tugged at my skirt to make sure it hadn’t ridden up. I watched him pull open a small door before facing back to me with his arm extended, a water bottle in his grasp.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, taking it from him. I felt like I’d been dropped in the middle of the desert, my tongue thick and stuck to the roof of my mouth. I quickly drank down the contents as he grabbed a chair and sank down onto it just feet from me.

  “You alright? You didn’t look very good up there.”

  I sneered, taking his assessment of my health as a personal insult. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  He laughed again, shaking his head. “Are you always this rude to people who try to help you?”

  “I didn’t ask for your help,” I snapped, raising my chin. “I just... I hadn’t eaten anything for dinner, and I don’t really like to be in front of crowds.”

  His smile relaxed as he sat back in the metal folding chair, his long legs stretched out between us. His mood was the complete opposite of mine, and it made me even more nervous. He looked like the cat who had cornered a rodent and was toying with his food.

  “I’ll take you for something to eat. I’m off the clock in a few minutes.” He wasn’t asking.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re never supposed to let someone take you to a second location,” I shook my head. “And Cadence would probably kill me if I didn’t at least get my free lap dance.” I struggled not to grimace. I don’t know why I ever agreed to have her bachelorette party in a place like this. The idea of men stripping down to underwear and gyrating on my lap didn’t appeal to me.

  “Second location, huh?” He eyed me for a long moment like he was reading my thoughts and trying to figure out if I was joking. “If I wanted to fuckin’ hurt you, I already would have.” He replied matter-of-factly, but there was no malice in his tone. He was simply letting me know I could relax. It didn’t help. I glanced down at his pristine shoes, and he smirked like he knew exactly what rumor was running through my mind, but he didn’t say anything.

  I shivered before looking to the ground between us. He sighed loudly, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Do you have someone in mind for the dance? I can go grab them for you.”

  Shrugging, I tangled my fingers together in front of me. “I uh... I don’t know. This isn’t really my thing.” I peered up at him before quickly averting my gaze. “Maybe... you could do it? Since you’re already here.” My voice rose at the end, unsure of myself, but after the five cocktails I’d had since we’d entered this place, my filter had worn threadbare.

  That sexy smirk was playing on his lips, deep dimples sinking into his cheeks. “You want me to give you a lap dance?” he asked, his scarred eyebrow cocked like he’d found my request amusing.

  “No. Not really,” I shook my head, my hair falling down to help shield my face that must have been a deep crimson by now. “I think maybe I’ll just go.”

  I pushed to my feet, and as I went to walk by him, his long fingers encircled my wrist, stopping me. I glanced down at him, my pulse thrumming in time to the loud bass that echoed down the hallway from the main room of the club. His grip tightened fractionally, and it sent a thrill through me.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You... will?” I asked.

  His tongue ran out over his lower lip, his gaze dipping to my mouth momentarily before he nodded once. Pushing from his seat, he motioned with his hand for me to sit. I sank down in his chair, crossing my ankles, unable to look him in the eye.

  He fumbled with a small alarm clock radio next to the cot before finding a decent song. Addicted by Saving Abel blasted through the little machine.

  “They don’t have speakers from the main stage or something in these rooms?” I asked.

  “This isn’t one of those rooms.” He tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt, dragging it up over the ridges of his muscular abdomen and over his head. He dropped it onto the small bed before stepping closer to me. Every inch of his body that was exposed was cut muscle. I’d never seen a human so perfectly sculpted.

  My back stiffened, and I stared at the intricate tattoos that stretched the expanse of his chest and the scars that marred his flesh as if God had trouble cutting him from his mold when he made him. His fingers slid under my chin and tipped my face up to look him in the eye. It felt like an intimate move in the small, secluded space. Next, his hands grabbed mine and pressed them against his hard chest, his breathing deepening. I felt it vibrate through me, causing me to shiver.

  “Do you do this a lot?” I asked, struggling not to stutter like a bumbling idiot.

  “Rescue women from falling off the stage?”

  I made a face, earning me another cocky grin. “I mean the dances. Do you do a lot of them? Does it pay well?”

  He shrugged, pulling my hands down over every ripple of flexing muscle on his stomach toward the edge of his jeans. My fingers rested on the button, and I realized I was supposed to undo them for him. I fumbled with the small silver clasp before tugging them free and pulling the zipper apart. His eyes locked onto mine, darkening with a hunger I wasn’t used to seeing in a man. I swallowed against the lump that had lodged in my throat.

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to touch the dancers?” I mumbled. “In the movies, you’re never supposed to touch them. And they don’t normally wear jeans, do they? I mean, do you?”

  “Do you always talk this fuckin’ much?” He asked, and that’s when I realized he wasn’t moving.

  “You’re not dancing.” I pulled my hands from his and let them fall on my lap as alarm bells began singing in my brain.

  “I don’t like to dance.”

  “But...” My eyes darted around the dark room from the cot to the mini-fridge. It was set up as a makeshift bedroom. “You’re a stripper. Right?”

  “No, I’m not, sweetheart.” His lips struggled not to twist up in a smirk. “But who am I to turn down a beautiful woman when she asks me to take my clothes off?”

  My head began to swim again. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe I’d passed out and hit my head.

  “Oh, God.” The humiliating radiated through me until I felt like I was going to be sick. “Oh, no.” I was actually going to be sick. My body heaved, and soon, the cocktails I’d consumed were now in a puddle on the floor between us as I felt myself fade from consciousness.

  I held the small woman in my arms like a broken doll as she slept peacefully, passed out from a night of heavy drinking, and god knows what the fuck else. She smelled like coconuts, and her skin was burning hot, reminding me of the beach. It had been years since I’d felt the sand be
tween my toes. I laid her down gently on the small cot that I used whenever the nights at work got too long before hurrying to clean up the mess she’d made on the floor. I shouldn’t have teased her, made her think I was a dancer, but I couldn’t resist once she’d gotten up the nerve to ask me. It was more than obvious; she wasn’t the type to be in an establishment like this. She was so nervous and unsure of herself, oblivious to the power someone with her beauty wielded over men.

  I watched her for nearly an hour, the slow and steady rise of her chest as she mumbled quietly, her eyebrows pulled together like she was tormented by a nightmare. Her purse buzzed several times but never rang, and she didn’t seem to notice.

  I slipped my hand inside her bag and pulled out the device. The screen was lit up with unread messages from an unknown number.

  UNKNOWN CALLER: We need to talk.

  UNKNOWN CALLER: I miss you.

  I slipped the phone back in her bag as I chewed the inside of my cheek. Not my problem.

  “Hello?” a woman slurred from outside of the room as I brushed the hair back from the broken doll's face causing her mouth to fall open with a content sigh.

  “This room is off-limits,” I called out angrily, worried she would wake my sleeping beauty.

  She looked too young to be in a place like this, but we check ID’s at the door, and I know Max wouldn’t have let anyone slide in without one. But innocence didn’t have an age limit, just like corruption didn’t discriminate against the vulnerable.

  “Annabelle?” The voice called again with an edge of annoyance. Fuck.

  I groaned, pushing from the cot and slipping out of the room to see the bride-to-be stumbling through the hall, her plastic crown cocked sideways on her head. I folded my arms across my chest, waiting for her to approach.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, my voice gruff.

  “Yes,” she slurred, her teeth raking over her glossy lower lip in an attempt to be seductive. “I’m lookin’ for a friend,” she giggled. “You wanna be my friend?”

  “I’m not very friendly, sweetheart.”