Contents
Defying Our Forever
Also By Claudia Burgoa
Leyla’s Prologue
Pierce’s Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also By Claudia Burgoa
Copyright © 2020 by Claudia Burgoa
Edited by:
Kristi Falteseik
All rights reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, organizations, media, places, events, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, business establishments, events, locales or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
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www.claudiayburgoa.com
Also By Claudia Burgoa
The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Series
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Loved You Once
A Moment Like You
Defying Our Forever
October 2020
Call You Mine
February 2021
As We Are
June 2021
Yours to Keep
September 2021
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Against All Odds Series
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Wrong Text, Right Love
Didn’t Expect You
Love Like Her
March 2021
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Second Chance Sinners
Pieces of Us
April 2021
Somehow Finding Us
May 2021
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Standalones
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Us After You
Almost Perfect
Once Upon a Holiday
Someday, Somehow
Chasing Fireflies
Something Like Hate
Then He Happened
Maybe Later
My One Despair
My One Regret
Found
Fervent
Flawed
Until I Fall
Finding My Reason
Christmas in Kentbury
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Chaotic Love Duet
Begin with You
Back to You
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Unexpected Series
Uncharted
Uncut
Undefeated
Unlike Any Other
Decker the Halls
Co-writing
Holiday with You
"Things usually work out in the end."
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"What if they don't?"
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"That just means you haven't come to the end yet." — Jeanette Walls, The Glass Castle.
For those who’ve been trying to do their best during this difficult year. I’m here with you and for you.
Leyla’s Prologue
We are taught at an early age that love stories should be long. In most cases, they are eternal. They should always contain a happily ever after. But sometimes love isn’t endless. The stories are shorter than we believed they were going to be. There’s a period mid-sentence and not a semi-colon. When you turn the page, the end appears instead of the next chapter.
Sometimes, we have to accept it and leave when there’s nothing moving forward.
My story is quite complicated. From beginning to end it has been out of the ordinary, and there were moments where it could qualify as extraordinary. I still remember how we first met. Everything was passion, wild adventures, and ferocious love.
But somewhere along the way we lost that. I felt searing pain when the period appeared mid-sentence in our relationship. It nearly killed me. It definitely broke my heart.
Leaving was never out of the question. I just had to delay long enough to jump into the next chapter of my life.
The problem with stalling is that sometimes we’re so distracted trying to plan our next move that we find ourselves tangled in a much bigger problem than what we had at the beginning.
At least that’s how I see it. I could give you a quick recount of my love life.
It’s a modern tale of the prince and the fake pauper. A not so typical boy meets girl, girl falls for the boy, they make a rash decision. When she figures out they are different from how they seemed, her heart breaks into a trillion little pieces.
If my life was a fairy tale, I’d say that someone cast a spell on the prince, and he lost his heart. That I had to run away before his disdain killed me.
I was in a safe place until his father, the evil king, cursed his sons. They were sent into the old kingdom hidden in the Wicked Woods of Mt. Hood to live in exile for eternity—or eighteen months. This spell reached everyone who had been in close proximity to these brothers. Including me.
That’s how Mom used to transform our lives into stories. She altered horrifying moments into bearable situations by narrating it like a sweet fairy tale. If the Grimm brothers’ stories are read to children as magical tales, why not our gritty lives?
Fair warning, I don’t live in a castle, although the Aldridge mansion is almost as big. William Aldridge wasn’t a king—but he was definitely evil. He thought he owned the world. There’s no curse, but when the man died leaving a twisted testament, he pretty much screwed his sons.
Pierce Aldridge isn’t a literary knight or a prince, but he pretended to be one when we met. He he
ld me like no one had before. Like I was all he had. I couldn’t help but fall in love with him—until I realized we were just an illusion. A fleeting infatuation.
We’re not living in the Wicked Woods of Mt. Hood, but Baker’s Creek is pretty close to it. Unlike Snow White and Cinderella, I don’t speak to animals, but I love all critters, big and small. I dedicate my life to saving them.
So, I’m stuck in the nine circles of purgatory with six damn demons who swear they are princes. They aren’t. They are quite the opposite. These men are maddening, infuriating…and devilishly handsome too.
Henry (the hot business guy) Ragey
Hayes (the hot doctor) Finicky
Pierce (the hot lawyer and my almost ex-husband) Assholey
Mills (the hockey player and single dad) Sporty
Vance (the hot former special forces) Broody
Beacon (the heartthrob rock star) Pranky
With one signature I can be free. But everything is a lot more complicated than it seems.
Pierce’s Prologue
It’s a well-known fact that families are complicated. Not one person can say they have the perfect family.
When it comes to dysfunctional families, mine is the worst, or is it the best?
To understand a person, we need to understand their past. My father was a purebred asshole. My mother’s family isn’t much different. Mix the two and, well, here I am trying to pretend I understand society when, in actuality, I don’t do well with people.
If given a choice, I’d rather spend my life with animals. I was raised on a ranch and spent most of my free time among horses, dogs, cows, and chickens.
Animals are noble, loving, and they don’t ask for much.
There’s too little I remember about my father. He came to visit us whenever his business allowed it. When he was home, he’d take me on horse rides around my grandparents’ ranch. I liked those days when he stayed with us. Mom forgot about her family and paid attention only to us. It wasn’t often, but that memory of seeing my mother happy because Dad was in town and not having to deal with her family, is one of the best I carry with me.
My parents had a weird arrangement. I knew Dad traveled and we could only see him a few times a year because his job was demanding.
I was almost six when I learned he had a wife and other children. After that, Mom never smiled. Every evening I would hear her fighting with Dad over the phone. One thing I learned from them was to never fall in love.
Until I met her.
She sneaked into my heart. Leyla taught me that home sometimes has a heartbeat and not a zip code. Now I can’t push her away, and I can’t keep her either. No one understands our relationship. It’s complicated. I screwed it up before I even met her.
Chapter One
Pierce
Not many guys my age can say that they have everything. I do. I’m one of the best damn lawyers in the country. If all goes well, I’ll make partner within a couple of years before any of my obnoxious cousins who sometimes act as if they received their degrees from a box of cereal.
They lack dedication, professionalism, and knowledge. I studied my undergrad at Duke and then studied law at Harvard University. I interned at one of the best firms in Boston—and the country. I work more hours a week than they do in a month. It’s to no one’s surprise that Saturdays are the days where I do whatever the fuck I want.
At night, I go out with my friends to relax. Once a week, I find some chick I want to fuck for the night. We barely exchange names, never phone numbers, and we don’t spend more than a few hours fucking. The next day I’m back at work.
I’m cold, cynical, and a bit obsessive about work.
For me, there’s no point to having a relationship—that’s for teenagers and people who don’t have real goals. Never in my life have I promised more than what I can give. I haven’t said, “I love you,” nor given my heart to anyone.
Listen, I’m a lawyer. I know the score. When it all ends, the only ones who win are the divorce counselors who keep a good chunk of the couple’s assets. If there’s something valuable my mother and father taught me, it is to only look after number one. Me.
This is why I am asking myself, what the fuck are you doing at an animal hospital, on a Saturday night, staring at a gorgeous redhead, and holding a dog who isn’t yours?
The woman, who I assume is the receptionist, is busy scribbling. Said woman hasn’t acknowledged me yet. It’s obvious that she’s too focused on the… I’m not even sure what she’s doing. Probably her homework. She doesn’t look older than twenty-one. I shouldn’t be staring at her like she’s a popsicle and it’s a hot summer day.
I want to lick her.
Off limits!
But fuck, I can’t help myself. She’s gorgeous.
I usually go for the tall, sexy clothes, and red lipstick kind of woman.
This one is wearing Snoopy scrubs, her face is all natural, and she’s definitely on the petite side.
I clear my throat, and when she turns her attention toward me, her large, round, green eyes meet mine. I forget how to breathe.
If this was a night club, she’d be the woman I’d take to the room I booked for the night and fuck her until she can’t walk. Or maybe she wouldn’t be allowed in because she might be underage.
“Oh my God, what happened?” she says as her eyes widen.
The moment where everything disappeared and it was just the two of us is gone in a matter of seconds. I remember why I am here and carrying a forty pound injured dog.
“I’m not sure what happened to him,” I answer, looking down at the tan and black dog who has been whimpering since I picked him up from the side of the road.
The receptionist is right by my side, taking the pup away from me.
“We’ll do the paperwork later. He has a lot of blood on him,” she says. “I… What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat, walking behind her.
“See, this is the problem when people get puppies. They don’t understand that they are a full-time commitment. These kiddos are like toddlers,” she rants while pushing open the double doors and making her way to what feels like a huge room with metal tables, sinks, and kennels.
“We need to clean the wounds first,” she whispers. “What happened to you, boy? Did your Dad open the garage and you ran thinking it was safe?”
She glares at me and says, “Pray that he only needs a few stitches. I should call the authorities and report you.”
“For picking up a dog I found on the side of the road?”
She stops opening a jar with cotton balls and looks at me. “He’s not your dog?”
I shake my head.
She narrows her eyes. “Listen, you don’t have to lie. Yes, I’m upset at your negligence, but I won’t call the police. I just need you to be careful next time.”
“He’s not mine,” I insist.
She pulls latex gloves from a box and then glances at me again. “You want me to believe that you”—her eyes sweep my body from top to bottom and back—“You willingly stained your suit, which looks expensive, stopped when you saw this guy injured, and brought him over.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
She moves her attention to the dog without answering.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“No. He’s too calm around you. Dogs aren’t usually that way with strangers while they’re injured,” she answers, and I’m not sure if she’s making up this shit to bait me or why she’s saying that.
“I have that kind of gift with animals,” I retort.
“Sure, we can call you ‘the dog whisperer,’” she mocks me. “I’ll give you the name of some dog trainers. When he’s better you definitely need to— How long have you had him? I’m thinking he’s about eight months old.”
“He’s not mine,” I repeat.
“Let’s say that hypothetically he’s yours,” she insists. “Have you been with him since he was about eight to twelve wee
ks?”
“I don’t have time for dogs.” I reword my answer, hoping she’ll stop blaming me for what happened to the poor guy.
“Then why did you get him in the first place,” she says, accusatorily.
“You have problems listening, don’t you?”
She lifts her gaze and answers, “My hearing is perfect. The evidence is pretty clear, don’t you think?”
“It’s circumstantial evidence,” I argue. “You’re basing your judgement on a technicality. Was I supposed to leave the body and hope that animal control would just pick him up? If he was my dog, maybe I’d be more concerned about his wellbeing. Tell me, why am I lying to you?”
“It’s not to avoid paying the bill. You seem like a guy with enough money to afford the x-rays and surgery if it’s needed,” she gives me another glance. “You’re afraid that your girlfriend is going to find out that you ran over her dog?”
I chuckle, “Who would do that?”