Broken Illusions (His Agenda Volume 3) Read online

  Book Description

  PART I

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  PART II

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  COMING SOON

  Other books by Dori Lavelle

  Connect with Dori Lavelle

  BROKEN ILLUSIONS

  (His Agenda 3)

  By Dori Lavelle

  Broken Illusions (His Agenda 3)

  Copyright ©2015 by Dori Lavelle

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover Art: Dori Lavelle

  Editor: Leah Wohl-Pollack and Samantha Gordon

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Book Description

  Jude Macknight is gone forever, and I can finally start my new life with Dustin Brannon. But it's not so easy to move on.

  When I close my eyes at night, I still see Jude's face. And sometimes, I swear I feel his presence. When will he stop haunting me? And when will I stop waiting for the other shoe to drop?

  This is the breathtaking conclusion to the His Agenda serial.

  **WARNING: Due to sexual situations and dark adult content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18, and anyone who is unable to read books containing the following issues: kidnapping, murder, rape, and extreme abuse.**

  PART I

  Chapter One

  As the Venetian lace veil billowed in the wind behind the bride, she smiled, her slate gray eyes sparkling.

  She leaned her head against her new husband's shoulder and gazed into the camera.

  My stomach twisted at the sight of the undiluted happiness written all over her face.

  How long would their romance last? How soon until her husband showed his true colors and she regretted the vows she’d made? How long until their fairytale shattered and fell at their feet, and she turned into the woman I used to be?

  It didn't matter. No one wanted the answers to those questions.

  “That's stunning,” I said, forcing a smile. I shoved my own painful memories to the back of my mind and did what I was being paid lots of money to do. I removed myself from the picture and took theirs.

  This was my job now. I froze perfect moments while they were still intact. I captured them before they crumbled. I offered my clients something beautiful to hold on to when life left a bitter taste in their mouths.

  I took a few more shots and a bittersweet smile spread across my face. “It's a wrap.” I lowered my camera, an expensive present Dustin had given me when I completed my photography course over a year ago. “I got some great shots. I'll send the photos to you by the end of the week.” It was the first time I’d leave a wedding without photographing the reception as well, but one of the bride’s cousins had offered to do it. Perhaps they couldn’t afford to hire a professional photographer for the entire day.

  I had an important lunch appointment with Garrett, Dustin’s brother, anyway. For two years, I had taken my therapy sessions with him seriously.

  Garrett called as I was getting into my brown Volkswagen Tiguan—my own car, purchased with my own money. A major step toward becoming self-sufficient, and embracing my freedom.

  “On my way,” I told him, and started the car.

  ***

  Garrett was already waiting for me at a table at Eden, a fancy restaurant partly owned by Kelsey, his and Dustin's sister-in-law. I preferred meeting him outside his practice, as I always felt like I was in an interrogation room there, even when sitting on one of his expensive leather couches.

  He rose when I approached the table and kissed me on the cheek. “You look different,” he said, pulling out a chair for me.

  I lowered myself into the vintage-inspired padded chair, and touched a strand of my hair. “It’s my hair.” I had always had long hair—hair Jude had loved, hair he had almost pulled out in a rage. It now brushed my shoulders in flattering auburn waves. “I thought chopping it off would help me leave Jude behind.”

  Garrett folded his hands and met my gaze across the table. “And is it helping?”

  “I really don't know. But it's a step.” I let out a heavy sigh. “I wish I could erase all memories of him… just shut them off.”

  “Before we get into that, I think we should order first.”

  “Good idea.” I flipped open my glossy menu. We both ordered the crispy duck with potatoes and a soda water.

  We made small talk until the food arrived. Once the waiter had left, Garrett said, “I think you should stop forcing it. Stop fighting so hard to let him go. The mind is a powerful thing, and it doesn't enjoy being told what to do.”

  I cut into my duck and raised the fork to my mouth. “You mean I should let go in order to actually let go?”

  He laughed and took a swig of water. “That's exactly what I mean. Some things cannot be forced. Jude was a huge part of your life. The scars he left behind are deep. You can't expect to get over what happened just like that.”

  I put down my fork, ignoring the tingling in my chest. “It's not just like that. Two years is a long time.”

  “Not in your case. Give it more time. Stop being so hard on yourself. How are the nightmares?”

  “Once a week now.” After Jude died, and after seeing the dead prostitutes in their coffins, I had a nervous breakdown. In the days after I attended each of the women's funerals—from a distance, because I was not welcome—I found it hard to sleep. I saw their faces everywhere, I saw Jude's face in my dreams, smelled his musk cologne mixed with the scents of burning hair and flesh. Dustin finally managed to convince me to see Garrett. I didn't have the energy to fight him on it. I was incapable of coping alone.

  “That's a great improvement. You should acknowledge that. You've come a long way from—”

  “From the mess I used to be.” The one fear I had was that I'd never get over it, and that Jude would remain a part of me forever, hindering me from moving on. In a way he did stand in my way, but not completely.

  “I think you should be damn proud of yourself.”

  “I think so too.” I paused. “Garrett, I’ve been doing some thinking. I appreciate what you have done for me the last two years, but I … I want to stop therapy.”

  Garre
tt leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his blond hair. “Haley, I don’t think this is the right thing to do. If it’s the cost you’re worried about, there’s no need. You’re pretty much family now.”

  When I started therapy with Garrett, he had insisted on doing it for free since I was his brother’s girlfriend. I had refused outright. If Jude had taught me one thing, it was that nothing in life was free. There was always a hidden price to be paid. I knew Garrett wanted to do it from the goodness of his heart, but the third-degree burns on my heart were still raw, and they made it hard for me to believe someone could show me pure kindness and expect nothing in return.

  That was also the reason I insisted on paying Dustin back every penny he had given me when I started my new life—for living expenses and my studies. He had fought me tooth and nail about it, reminding me he had more money than he could ever spend. Eventually he relented, when it occurred to him I needed to do it for my own peace of mind. I was still paying him for the large loan in monthly installments.

  “I need to try and do it on my own. How long can I lean on you?”

  “That’s the thing. You’re not leaning on me. What you don’t see is that you are doing it on your own already. I’m only guiding you. You suffered a great trauma—you need all the help you can get.”

  “And I appreciate that so much, but maybe I don’t need a guide anymore.”

  Garrett nodded and rubbed the side of his clean-shaven face. “Okay, do what you have to do. Remember that I’m here. If you ever need to talk, pick up the phone.”

  I nodded, but I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. When I talked to him, I wanted it to be about normal things, not my problems. He’d just have to wait for a desperate call that would never come.

  As we ate the rest of our meal, I told him about some of the weddings I’d photographed and a few of the jobs I’d been hired for in the coming weeks. In the end, even if he was no longer my therapist, he still returned to the topic of my nightmares and analyzed them like only a shrink could.

  “The nightmares will take time to go away. Be patient.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I think you will be fine. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met.”

  “Thanks, Garrett. That means a lot.” I drained my glass of water and reached in my bag for my purse. “I have to get going. My self-defense class starts in twenty minutes.”

  He reached into his coat for his wallet. “You’re still doing that?”

  “I am. It makes me feel good about myself.” Jude might no longer be alive to harm me, but I never wanted to be in a position where I felt helpless again. Jude or no Jude.

  “I think that’s great. Doing whatever makes you feel safe and confident is a big step in the right direction.”

  I was proud of every decision I had made so far. Soon after Jude died, I toyed with the idea of moving to New York as I had originally planned, to start a new life among strangers. But Serendipity had always been home to me, and in the end, I refused to be pushed out as if I didn’t belong anymore.

  The fact that it was Dustin’s hometown also strengthened my resolve to stay. I wanted to be close to him. With him by my side, I felt strong enough to face my neighbors. People ran their mouths for a while, and then as often happens, they moved on to other gossip about other people. Some even started being polite toward me—not overly friendly, but they began to acknowledge me, and quickly enough, I had customers for my photography business.

  Chapter Two

  During my work break at 11 a.m., I walked into my bedroom and a chill instantly ran down my spine when I saw the unmade bed. I rarely forgot to make my bed unless I was in a big rush.

  I gazed at it for a long time, brow furrowed, heart thumping. Could I really have forgotten? Or was my mind playing tricks on me again? As soon as I’d stopped therapy a month ago, my memories had been on a mission to drive me crazy.

  The sound of hip-hop music drifting in through the closed window brought me back to reality. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to stop therapy. But how the hell would I learn to stand on my feet when I had a crutch nearby?

  No. I would not call Garrett and ask for a session. I would be fine. All these weird things that were happening were tricks of my imagination. I should have expected my deep-rooted fears to surface now that I didn’t have a shrink to run to.

  I took a deep breath, dropped my purse on the armchair, and moved toward the bed. I made it quickly, then opened the window to refresh the stale air that had been gathering in there all morning.

  Before I left the room, I did something that made me feel stupid, but I couldn’t stop myself: I took a photo of the bed. Then I slipped the phone back into my purse and went downstairs to my home office, which doubled as the dining room, where I forgot all about the unmade bed. I got started responding to client requests and editing photos on my laptop, until I was disturbed by the doorbell around 3 p.m.

  When I opened the door, Dustin stood on the front porch with a smile and a pizza box.

  “You still haven’t found your key?” I asked, smiling back at him. “Maybe I should have a copy made for you.”

  “Sure.” He kissed me and walked into the apartment. I followed him to the living room. “But right now let’s worry about food. I know how you can get carried away with work and forget to eat.”

  He was right. I loved my work so much these days that I sometimes went all day without food or sleep. But I at least made sure to always have some mineral water close at hand.

  I pulled off the head scarf I was wearing and ran a hand through my hair. I opened one of the pizza boxes. The aroma made my mouth water and my stomach rumbled. “Pizza is a great idea.”

  “I’ll get some plates.” Dustin turned to leave the living room, but I stopped him.

  “Let’s eat from the box. We’ll do our best not to make too much of a mess.”

  Dustin was a complete neat freak, whereas I had no problem with a little creative chaos.

  “You expect me to believe that?” He laughed and folded up the sleeves of his chocolate-brown shirt, revealing strong wrists covered by faint hairs.

  I lifted a slice of pizza from the box, the cheese stretching under it like gum, and took a bite. “Mmm… This is so good. Dannie’s?”

  “Oh, yes. Only the best for my lady.”

  Dannie’s Oven was two blocks away and one of my favorite pizzeria. Dustin was always thoughtful. He showed me in little ways that he cared. He met my needs both big and small, but never suffocated me in the process. Unlike my relationship with Jude, my relationship with Dustin was comfortable, respectful, and loving. When I needed Dustin to be there, he was. When I needed my space, he gave it to me without complaining. He was one of the biggest reasons I was able to make such great progress in my healing journey.

  We ate in comfortable silence, and then we watched the news for a bit. Then Dustin stood, took the boxes to the kitchen, and told me he had to leave for a business meeting.

  He pulled me to his hard body and kissed me. “I’ll be back tonight.”

  He had been traveling so much the past few days we hadn’t had as much time together as we would have liked. Between both our busy schedules, we had to consciously make time for each other. This was the best relationship I had ever had, so messing it up wasn’t an option.

  When Dustin was in town, I often made an effort to prepare a romantic night for us. It didn’t even have to be something big. Sometimes it was enough for me to buy us tickets to the movies, or cook a meal we could enjoy indoors before spending the rest of the night making love.

  “I miss you already,” I said. “What time will you be here?”

  “Around nine.” He kissed my neck. “Once I step through the door, all phones and computers are off. No work. Just play.”

  “I love you, baby.” I tilted my head back, inviting the kisses he planted on my throat. Desire flooded through me.

  Dustin did that to me every time. His touch had the power to drive me crazy. No man
had ever made me feel the way he did. Not even Jude during the early stages of our relationship. Dustin was it for me now. I still had a lot of hurdles to overcome before I could give in completely to him, but our future together seemed inevitable. He was my man and I would never let him go.

  “There’s more where that came from. See you later.” Releasing me, he disappeared out the door.

  Chapter Three

  “Haley, thank you so much for doing this for my little girl. I appreciate it,” Iris Kellems said, her eyes sparkling with tears.

  “It was my pleasure. I wish I could do more.” With a heavy heart, I glanced at the ten-year-old girl lying in the hospital bed. She looked like a skeleton in her princess dress.

  “There's nothing more anyone can do,” Iris whispered. “You will be giving us something precious to cherish.”

  A knot formed inside my stomach as I watched Summer’s small hands form fists at her sides. How was it possible that in less than a month, she might no longer be alive? She had an inoperable brain tumor that was only diagnosed four months ago.

  With not much time for them to spend with their daughter, and needing to hold on to every memory, Iris and her husband, Walter, had contacted me after coming across one of my advertisements in the Serendipity Daily.

  Even though most of my assignments revolved around happy times, now and then I agreed to photograph sad moments, attempting to capture the beauty nestled in every tear, in the dark folds of pain. Photographs had a way of making even the ugliest moments beautiful.