Beautiful Mistake Book 3

KYLA

With a cry, I fell forward onto the cold sidewalk.

I caught myself on my knees and one outthrust hand.

The other arm was tightly clutched around my daughter, shielding her from the impact as the dirty pavement bit into the skin of my palm and tore a hole through my trousers.

I sat there for a moment, on my hands and knees in the park, gasping with relief.

She was okay. Charlie was okay.

But judging by her outraged howls, she hadn’t enjoyed the falling-down game any more than I had.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy’s sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I soothed her, edging off of my knees and on to my butt. My legs were still shaking too badly to stand.

I surveyed the damage. My palms had been cut open by the rough concrete, but it wasn’t too bad.

But I hissed through my teeth as I got a look at the cut on my knee, which was already seeping blood through the tear in the fabric.

So much for this outfit. Damn. And it’s brand new.

Oh no! And my Marc Jacobs heels!

I looked at the broken heel, still wedged in the crack in the pavement.

Shit! For some irrational reason, tears welled in my eyes.

I’d had those shoes for years. Had bought them with my first paycheck from the Grand Hotel.

On top of my less-than-triumphant return today, the ruination of my shoes seemed like a bad omen.

Charlie was still wailing. I cupped her head with my uninjured hand and kissed her soft hair.

“Excuse me, are you okay?”

It was a woman, perhaps a few years younger than me, wearing two overlaid sweaters and a purple poofball hat.

“Do—do you need help?” she asked, hand extended.

Charlie was still screaming in outrage, and the cold pavement was digging into my bottom.

I gratefully accepted the stranger’s hand, and she helped haul me to my feet.

Her fingers were icy cold.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” I said to Charlie, whose wails began tapering off to indignant sniffles.

“Thank you,” I said, turning to my helpful new acquaintance, but she had already retreated to a distance.

“No worries.” She gave a casual shrug and headed down the path without a backward glance.

I teetered on my uneven shoes, a little confused by the abrupt encounter.

She isn’t wearing a coat.

I looked again. Despite the frigid temperatures, the girl was only wearing two sweaters.

Or gloves, I thought, remembering how icy her hands had been.

I looked around. There were quite a few itinerant people here.

Those who had nowhere else to go often came to the park—at least until the police chased them off.

Had that girl been homeless? She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.

And I had been sitting and crying over my stupid shoes.

God, I’m such an asshole.

I glanced around again for my helping hand, but she had disappeared into the coming darkness.

My brow furrowed, but I didn’t know what to do.

Remember how lucky you are to have the life you have, Kyla.

Stop whining about your shoes or feeling unneeded at work.

Some people have real problems.

The walk home was long and uncomfortable with my uneven heels, but I didn’t care.

I was too busy wondering if I’d gotten so used to the wealth and privilege of my life as a Hawksley that I had become blind to the struggles of those around me.

JENSEN

I forced myself to sit on the couch and watch TV instead of pacing circles around the living room.

They were late.

Kyla and Charlie should have been home almost half an hour ago from their walk in the park.

Where were they?

I checked the time on my phone again, resisting the urge to call my wife and check up on her.

She had no idea how much I worried, how much the thought of losing everything that made my life worth living kept me up at night.

So many terrifying what-ifs, especially after the events of last year.

The attack by Kyla’s old boss, Brian Leach.

The automobile accident that had nearly resulted in a miscarriage.

Kyla going into labor two weeks early.

All of it had rattled the calm, confident mask of just another billionaire playboy that I had worn for years.

Now, the stakes were higher.

I’d never been so happy. Or had so much happiness to lose.

I heard the sound of the key turning in the lock, and my breath left me in a sudden gush.

Leaning back into the couch cushions, I tried to look relaxed and at ease.

Kyla came in a moment later, with Charlie wide awake in the baby carrier.

“You’re back kinda late. She didn’t want to go down?” I asked in what I hoped was a casual tone.

Kyla kicked off her shoes and began unbuckling the baby carrier. “She was almost asleep, but then my shoe got stuck, and I fell.”

“Are you okay?” I asked, jumping up to take a closer look.

Kyla smiled and handed Charlie out for me to take. I took my daughter, relishing the warm, solid weight of her.

“We’re fine. Broke my heel, but who cares?” Kyla shed her coat. I felt my tension loosen another notch.

She was so beautiful.

I held out my free arm, and she stepped into it. I bent my head and kissed my wife deeply.

“Your nose is cold. Like a puppy,” I said, feeling the chill of her skin through the sweater.

My thumping heart finally began to slow. My family was safe here in my arms.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to warm me up,” she replied, stretching up to kiss me again.

“Happy to oblige,” I murmured into her ear, running my hand along the swell of her breast.

In my arms between us, Charlie grabbed a thick handful of our hair in each of her chubby fists and pulled, shrieking with laughter.

Kyla and I began chuckling as well.

I held my family tight, unable to believe my luck.

***

Kyla took a bath while I got Charlie dressed, fed, and put to bed.

When she was starfished out in her crib, her eyes closed in sleep, I paused for a moment—like I did most nights—just to marvel at her.

Kyla and I had done this—we’d created this tiny, perfect human.

I heard a rustling noise, and my wife appeared at my side. Together, we watched our peacefully dreaming daughter.

“How was your first day back?”

“It was okay. Kinda surreal, I guess. Couldn’t seem to focus.”

I heard the tension in her voice and nudged her gently. “It’ll take time. But you’ll be great. You work too damn hard to be anything less.”

“Don’t curse in front of the baby,” Kyla teased.

My phone beeped loudly in my pocket.

Then twice more in rapid succession.

Kyla gave me a furious look and jabbed a finger at the sleeping Charlie.

We went into the living room, and I saw that I had three messages from Julian.

I clicked the link, and it opened a YouWatch video.

Two men were sitting at a table, looking very official and important in front of a backdrop of the Chicago skyline.

One of them was Ernesto Gomez, one of the city’s most notoriously bloodthirsty reporters.

The other was Nathan Holmes.

Icy fingers crawled up my spine. Kyla sensed my unease; I felt her supportive hand on my back.

The video began to play.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Chicago Inside, your watchdog for corruption in the Great Lakes area. With me tonight is hotelier and philanthropist Nathan Holmes. Welcome, Nathan.”

“It’s great to be here, Ernesto. Thank you for having me.”

Holmes’s Oxbridge accent was crisp and polished, as was his custom-made Armani suit.

I remembered him as a quiet, slightly chubby boy from summers spent at my grandfather’s family home in England.

The slim, dark-bearded man on the camera bore little resemblance to the shy teenager I knew.

As an adult, Nathan Holmes was slim and handsome, with a natural charisma that immediately drew the eye.

“Nathan, for the past year you’ve been engaged in an increasingly volatile war against Julian and Jensen Hawksley, local billionaire hotel tycoons.”

A photo of my brother and I popped up. It had been taken three years ago at a Halloween party.

My arm was around the waist of a girl wearing nothing more than pasties and string.

Julian was showering us both in champagne.

Kyla’s hand stilled on my back.

Holmes smiled casually. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a war, Ernesto. I just feel that the people of this city deserve better than two self-serving playboys with a proven record of professional misconduct.”

“What!” Kyla shouted beside me.

I felt sick. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the video.

“Care to elaborate on those accusations?” the reporter asked.

“Absolutely, but really I didn’t need to look any further than the local newsstand. For years, the Hawksley brothers have caroused around the city, preying on young women in the name of their extravagant lifestyle.”

Kyla scoffed. “This is ridiculous.”

But I couldn’t look away as Holmes continued.

“And you can say ‘But he’s changed! Jensen Hawksley is a fine upstanding family man!’” he said in a mocking tone.

“But I believe there is more to that ‘fairy tale romance’ than meets the eye.”

“In what way?” Gomez asked.

“Well, let’s look at the fact that Jensen Hawksley decided to become involved with one of his inferiors. Some might look at that and see sexual harassment.”

Nathan looked dismayed. “Now, I’m not saying that Jensen Hawksley tried to bribe himself out of a lawsuit with a wedding ring. But the facts could point that way.”

Kyla’s jaw dropped open. “What!”

Yeah, especially if you’re the one pointing.

“And now, his older brother seems to have taken a leaf out of the same book!”

The picture changed again, to a photo of Julian and his new girlfriend, Zoey Curtis.

But this had been taken before they were dating, and Zoey looked meek and unsure next to Julian’s sleek good looks.

Oh no. My brother had only recently entered a true, committed relationship.

And this…this could ruin everything for him.

“No direct accusations have been made against the Hawksley family,” Ernesto Gomez chimed in.

“No? Or are the Hawksley brothers using the immense wealth and power behind their name to silence anyone who goes against them?”

This interview was getting farther and farther from the truth.

“Can’t you sue him? Isn’t this slander?” Kyla asked.

“I’ll ask our lawyer, but I bet there’s some kind of loophole about just hypothesizing. Holmes is a bastard, but he’s not stupid.”

“Well, I think we’re just about out of time for tonight. Mr. Holmes, any closing thoughts?”

Holmes looked directly at the camera and gave an easy, almost apologetic smile.

“Just that I would ask the good people of Chicago if the Hawksley brothers run the sort of business they want in their city?” he said.

He leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into me through the screen.

“Because personally, I believe that the Hawksley brothers have been allowed to prey on the young women of Chicago for quite long enough.”