Foolish Dreams: Seaforth Billionaires Series, #6

By Jeana E. Mann

She'll never forgive him. He'll never forget her. A standalone, rivals-to-lovers, second-chances, secret baby, billionaire romance from USA Today bestselling author Jeana E. Mann.

 

Vanessa Seaforth was the love of my life. She broke my heart a thousand different ways when she married someone else, but I've never forgotten her. I focused the pain of our breakup on building an empire. 

 

A decade later, she's the CEO of my biggest competitor and is out to destroy my company. If she thinks I'll let her ruin my hard work, she's got another thing coming. I'm no longer the poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks. I'm rich and powerful. I can have any woman I want, and I want her.

 

The question is—how far will I go to get her?

 

Welcome to the world of the Seaforth Billionaires, where powerful men battle corruption, lies, and dirty secrets to protect the women they love.

 

*This book was formerly published as Pretty Broken Dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeana E. Mann
• Release date: Nov 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781943938780

Jeana E. Mann

Jeana Mann is the author of sizzling hot contemporary romance. Her debut release Intoxicated was a First Place Winner of the Cleveland Rocks Romance Contest, a finalist in the Carolyn Readers’ Choice Awards, and fourth place winner in the International Digital Awards. She is a member of Romance Writers’ of America (RWA). Jeana was born and raised in Indiana where she lives today with her two crazy rat terriers Mildred and Mabel. She graduated from Indiana University with a degree in Speech and Hearing, something totally unrelated to writing. When she’s not busy dreaming up steamy romance novels, she loves to travel anywhere and everywhere. Over the years she climbed the ruins of Chichen Iza in Mexico, snorkeled along the shores of Hawaii, sailed around Jamaica, ate gelato on the steps of the Pantheon in Rome, and explored the ancient city of Pompeii. More important than the places she’s been are the people she has met along the way. Be sure to connect with Jeana on Facebook or follow along on Twitter for the latest news regarding her upcoming releases. LINKS Website Facebook Twitter Goodreads Published by Ishkadiddle Publishing Copyright 2014. Jeana E. Mann Author. Cover by SelfPubBookCovers.com/Lori Edited by Rhonda Helms E BOOK ISBN:  978-0-9897714-2-9 This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [e-mail] All characters and events in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, alive or deceased, is purely coincidental.  

Book preview

1

VANESSA

TODAY

The cab stops in front of Seaforth Towers. After so many years abroad, Laurel Falls feels more foreign than France. I stand on the sidewalk and stare up at the twin spires. They project into the clear blue sky, dwarfing all the other skyscrapers in the city, a testament to my father’s influence. Following his fall from power, I’ve been given the reins to his empire. The way life changes when we least expect it never fails to amaze me.

I take the elevator to the top floor. A line of desks flank the approach to my door. Tension charges the atmosphere. Heads snap to watch me pass. I nod, offering greetings to each of the employees. Because I’m so new, I still don’t know their names but vow to learn them before the end of the week. My assistants, Ivan and Elena, scurry to my side.

Good morning, Ms. Seaforth, they say in unison.

Good morning. A thrill flutters in my stomach. I’ve waited all my life for this opportunity, a chance to prove I’m more than the rich guy’s daughter or the diplomat’s ex-wife. Ivan extends a steaming cup of espresso roast, my favorite, with a dollop of whipped cream on top. You don’t have to fetch coffee. I’m perfectly capable of getting it.

It’s my pleasure, Ms. Seaforth, he says. His somber expression lightens. He’s a trim thirty-something with soft brown eyes and slender, sensitive hands.

How’s your wife? And the baby? I ask.

They’re doing well, thank you. His eyebrows lift the smallest amount. I have a feeling my father never asked about the welfare of his employees. He certainly never asked about mine. The doctor says they can come home tomorrow.

Babies are such a blessing. Did you take tomorrow off? You should.

No, I didn’t want to miss work. My mother-in-law is going to pick them up.

Nonsense. You need to be there. A new baby only comes home from the hospital once. This talk of kids causes my heart to squeeze. My children are half a world away with their father. I miss them more than I ever imagined. They spend the school year with me, summers with my ex-husband Giles and his new twenty-two year old wife. I blink away the sting of tears and force a smile.

Company policy doesn’t cover personal leave unless you’ve been on the job for a year. I’ve only been here for eleven months. He shakes his head then glances at Elena, like he can’t believe his ears.

I’m sure we can work something out. Before I turn to my office, I stop and speak to Elena. Would you get with the head of HR and set an appointment for us to meet? I’d like to review the policies. Knowing my father, he’d washed his hands of personnel relations, but I intend to remedy any oversights. A happy employee is a loyal employee.

Certainly. She taps a note into her tablet.

Can I just say again how excited we are to work for you? The enthusiasm in Ivan’s voice breaks a bit of the ice surrounding us. Before you came along, the atmosphere was unbearable. You’ve lightened the mood considerably.

Thank you. I’m pleased to be here. Which is the understatement of the year. I still can’t believe it. I feel like an imposter, posing as the head of America’s largest conglomerate. Any moment, I expect security to burst through the doors and usher me out.

Elena remains expressionless, taking my briefcase and coat. She’s slender, her brown hair in a sleek chignon, her clothing on the cutting edge of fashion. An air of calm capability swirls around her, soothing my nerves. Your brother is waiting in your office.

Ugh. I can’t resist rolling my eyes.

Ivan clears his throat to hold back a chuckle.

Sure enough, Sam sits behind my desk, his back to the door, staring through the wall of windows onto the cityscape. When I close the door, he swivels to face me. He looks comfortable there, dressed in a sharp gray suit and electric blue tie, as he should. My father intended for Sam to assume his place, not his oldest daughter. A wave of inadequacy knots my stomach. I chase it away and straighten my shoulders.

He rocks back in the chair. It’s seven-thirty. Half the day is gone already. You’re going to have to up your game if you want to play with the big boys.

Don’t you ever sleep? I ask.

I’ll sleep when I’m dead. The tone of his voice is confident, commanding. When Sam speaks, everyone—including me—listens.

Dad would be so proud. A portrait of Maxwell hangs on the wall to my left. Sam’s resemblance to our father rattles my fragile composure. The same square jaw, blazing green eyes, and air of control. Sunlight sparks in his blond hair. Aside from the disparity in ages, they could be twins instead of father and son. By contrast, I look more like my mother; dark blond, busty, classic features.

Elena sets my briefcase on the credenza. Do you need anything before I go?

No, thanks. I’m good. I give her a smile. But you could get my brother a life.

He smirks. I have more lives than I can handle right now.

We’ve been apart for half of our lives, but the years fell away quickly when we reunited. He helped me obtain a divorce from Giles and backed my campaign to lead Seaforth Industries. His wife, Dakota, has been welcoming. The rediscovery of our family has left me overwhelmed and grateful. Thank you for helping out. I appreciate it.

No problem. Sam is a man of few words. He smooths his tie. We need to go over the financials. I’ve asked the accountants to meet with us after lunch. Did you look at the reports I sent to you?

Yes. I made some notes. He’s still sitting in my chair. I cock an eyebrow.

Sorry. By the tone of his voice, he’s not sorry at all.

My temper bristles. When he doesn’t move, I crowd the chair. Do you mind?

He chuckles, reminding me of our childhood, and the way he used to pull my pigtails if I challenged him. Lighten up, Vanessa. You look like you’re about to get a root canal.

I don’t want to screw up. It’s the first time I’ve admitted my insecurity to anyone other than the bathroom mirror.

Relax. The hard edge of his voice softens for the briefest moment. He stands and squeezes my shoulder. Remember, you asked for this.

How can I forget? My father fought my involvement from the very start, certain a woman was incapable of managing his baby. Sam had been the one to back me up. While he remained the overall man in charge, he had his own empire to run, leaving me to hold the reins. You don’t think I can do this.

Running a billion-dollar enterprise is nothing like managing a mid-level corporation. I open my mouth to reply, but he raises a hand. Which you did to perfection at your last job, may I add. However, Maxwell has mismanaged everything from the bottom up. We need to pool our resources if we want to save Seaforth Industries. Stock is down. Some of the subsidiaries are ripe for a takeover. Trust me, I know.

One of Sam’s many talents is the ability to sniff out weak companies, sneak beneath their radar, and acquire them for a fraction of their worth. If anyone understands the situation, it’s my brother.

Yes. I get it. I can’t hold back a note of irritation. I don’t need you to hold my hand.

His laughter rings across the room. There’s the sister I remember. Good to have you back. In a flash, his demeanor sobers, and his attention turns to a stack of folders. He takes one from the top and hands it to me. We’re having breakfast with the head of Seaforth Media— he pauses to glance at his watch, "—in thirty minutes. He’s uncomfortable with the change of management and wants to discuss a plan for recovery. This is the Cliffs Notes version of Seaforth Media’s status."

You couldn’t have given this to me yesterday? I hate being unprepared. With a scowl, I open the folder and riffle through the pages. The front page contains a list of the key players. One name in particular catches my eye. My heart screeches to a full stop. Cameron Blackwood? I blink, certain I’m hallucinating.

I didn’t have all the numbers until late last night.

I miss the rest of what Sam says. I’m too busy trying to hold onto my sanity. Cameron is running Seaforth Media? My Cam? He was my father’s first choice after Sam to head Seaforth Industries, but I never thought we’d brush shoulders.

Yes, he’s the main partner. Sam’s eyes narrow.

No one told me. Panic edges my words.

Why are you being crazy? Both of his eyebrows lift, reminding me to lower my voice. As far as I know, Sam has no idea of my past with Cam. He’s the skeleton in my closet, the dirty secret I’ll never tell to anyone.

Michael Gordon is the president. This has to be a mistake. Since the epic failure of our relationship, I haven’t seen Cam—not once. Why is he suddenly in my face? Karma must really be having a laugh this morning.

Gordon had a heart attack, and Blackwood weaseled his way in there until we appoint someone else. This meeting is his doing. He insisted. Disdain oozes from every inch of Sam’s body. I don’t know their history, but by the twitch above his eye, it’s not good.

Great. I pour a glass of water and chug down the entire thing, using the time to pull my head together. Sweat beads on my brow.

We need to be on our toes. He’s been breathing down my back for the past two years. I don’t trust the guy any further than I can throw him.

Me neither. Blood thunders through my ears, rendering me deaf. I walk with Sam toward the conference room, nodding, pretending to hear what he says, but all I can think about is the memory of a warm bed on a cold winter’s morning with a naked Cam beneath the sheets.

Have you found an apartment yet? Sam’s voice breaks into my panic.

What? No. I’m moving to the hotel across the street tonight.

You can stay with us. We have plenty of extra rooms, and it’s just me and Dakota in the house.

I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. The strength ebbs from my legs at the sight of the conference room door. My chest constricts. I brace a hand on the wall. Sam grabs my arm. I’ve never had a panic attack, but this seems relatively close.

Are you okay?

I nod. I’m fine. I just need a minute. Nothing could be further from the truth. Cam is on the other side of the door. The last time we met, he broke my heart. The hurt and betrayal come flooding back.

You’re allowed to be human, you know? The hard line of Sam’s jaw relaxes. I know how devastating divorce can be. Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe you should take a couple of weeks to get your act together. No one will blame you.

Although the divorce was uncomfortable, Giles and I remain friends, and I’m more relieved by the separation than anguished. I smooth sweaty palms over my skirt. At least I look good. The black suit is new, perfectly tailored to accentuate my figure, tasteful but not severe. My schedule has been packed, but I found time to purchase a few new wardrobe pieces, suitable for the chief executive officer of a billion-dollar business.

I don’t need time off, I snap. I need to work. Blackwood will expect me to be weak. I won’t let him come into our building and push me around. My words are bold, but my insides quake. I’m no longer a nineteen year old college student wearing her heart on her sleeve. Time and experience have obliterated the last vestiges of that girl. I know who I am and what I want from life. Success. Family. Prosperity. Not in that order, of course.

Excellent. Put on your game face, and let’s show this guy who’s in charge. The steel in Sam’s voice shores up my strength. Blackwood is a snake, but we hold all the balls in our court, and you’re now the most powerful woman in this city. Remember that.

The door opens, and the room spins around me. Eighteen faces stare expectantly at us. Most of them belong to my team, but I wasn’t expecting so many people. I’m the only woman. The men stand, all but the one at the opposite end of the table. Before I see his face, I know who he is by the prickle along my skin.

Black hair curls softly above the collar of his dress shirt. His suit is navy, perfectly tailored to show off broad shoulders, and brings out the blue in his eyes. Age has erased any traces of the boy I knew, but his jaw is still square, his nose straight, and his lips soft and sensual. My pulse skips a beat.

Good morning. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through my body. It’s the same voice from my memories, sinful, edged with sarcasm, tinged with humor. Our eyes meet, and I’m undone. I haven’t seen those blue eyes in twelve years, and yet I’ve seen them every day of my life since. I blink and look away, remembering the day we met, the day my life changed forever.

2

VANESSA

TWELVE YEARS AGO

Beneath a cloudless sky, sleek brood mares graze in rolling bluegrass pastures. The horses lift their heads in unison and stare at an approaching cloud of dust in the distance. A shiny yellow Lamborghini races down the winding road to the farm. I shade my eyes with a hand over my forehead and watch the car turn down the long tree-lined driveway. The lazy bloodhound at my feet opens one eye but doesn’t stir.

Somebody’s coming, I say to no one in particular.

On the lawn, my friend Trish cavorts with her younger brother and sister in a game of badminton. At my announcement, she turns toward the drive and stares. It’s Tristan.

Tristan! Yay! Her siblings, Kit and Rob, drop their rackets and race to greet him.

Trish’s face lights. He’s brought Cam. There’s no mistaking the excitement in her tone.

The car stops in front of the house, and the doors lift. Two beautiful young men unfold long limbs and climb out. They’re dressed in jeans and button-down shirts, casual in an I-just-came-from-the-country-club kind of way. Tristan’s rusty brown hair ruffles in the wind. He lifts a hand in greeting. I wave back. The kids collide into him, almost knocking him down. He draws Trish into a one-armed hug. Their laughter echoes across the distance and sparks my envy. I lean back and still the porch swing, fascinated by the emotional display. It’s sweet and foreign and irritating at the same time. I haven’t seen my brother Sam in three years or my sister Venetia in four. My parents hadn’t bothered to attend my high school graduation last month, citing a packed schedule. On the outside, I pretend not to care, but inside, the snub still smarts. Trish has no idea how lucky she is to have a family who loves her. She takes them for granted, something I’d never do.

The other guy, Cam, is tall and dark. The tail of his shirt is untucked, and his black hair hangs to his shoulders in loose curls. It’s the kind of hair that begs to be touched—glossy, silky, and a trifle unruly. He draws two duffel bags from the interior of the car and shoulders the straps. While Tristan jokes with his siblings, Cam draws in a deep breath, like a stallion scenting the air. His broad chest swells. There’s a primal rawness in the action that tugs on something low in my belly. I sit up and give him a closer look. The cut of his clothes is decent but not expensive, his square jaw unshaven but not slovenly. It’s his eyes that take my breath way. Even from a distance, I can tell they’re intensely blue. When they land on me, a wave of heat rushes into my face.

You made it. Mrs. Avondale floats onto the porch and waves at the boys. As usual, she’s the picture of southern perfection—hair in a low chignon, yellow skirt and blouse immaculate. "Come inside. Leave the bags. Reginald will get them.