Breaking Beauty: A Second Chance Romance

  Breaking

  Beauty

  By

  Stella Andrews

  Copyrighted Material

  Copyright © Stella Andrews 2020

  Stella Andrews has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the Author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  18+ This book is for Adults only. If you are easily shocked and not a fan of sexual content then move away now.

  18+

  Contents

  Free Book

  Books by Stella Andrews

  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

  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

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Note from author

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  stellaandrews.com

  Books by Stella Andrews

  In the order written

  Starred Books = Reaper Romance

  The Highest Bidder (Logan & Samantha)

  Rocked (Jax & Emily)

  Daddy’s Girls (Ryder & Ashton) *

  Twisted (Sam & Kitty) *

  The Billion Dollar baby (Tyler & Sydney) *

  Bodyguard (Jet & Lucy) *

  Made in London (Max & Summer)

  Flash (Flash & Jennifer) *

  Country Girl (Tyson & Sunny) *

  Breaking Beauty (Sebastian & Angel) *

  Everyone deserves a second chance – don’t they?

  Sebastian Stone - the boy I grew up with.

  My best friend who I confided in and trusted more than anyone.

  The boy who stuck up for me at school and filled my days with laughter and happiness.

  The boy who turned into a man who slipped into my bed at night and made me into a woman while the rest of the house slept.

  He awakened feelings in me I never knew I had and promised never to leave me.

  In return I gave him my innocence and his kisses brought new life to a soul I had surrendered to the Devil many years ago.

  However, this sleeping beauty woke up to find her Prince was a monster in disguise because he turned his back on her and chose her sister instead.

  When I heard they were to marry I left and fell down the darkest rabbit hole I could find.

  But now I'm back and he won't like what I've become. He's about to learn this Princess went over to the dark side and now the only thing on her mind is revenge.

  It's time to face my past and change the future - the hard way.

  1

  Angel

  I can’t breathe. I thought I was ready to face them again but the fact I’m gasping for air, tells me it’s still there. The fear. It’s why I ran and why I stayed hidden for so long.

  “Is everything ok, miss?”

  His words have the desired effect and act as a good hard slap in the face as they bring me to my senses.

  “I just need a minute.”

  I swear I can hear my heart thumping because there is silence in the cab as the driver recognizes my need for a moment. If only that was all I needed - a moment. However, that moment turned into weeks, then months and finally years. Five years in fact because that’s how long I’ve been away. I ran to escape them and now I’ve run right back because the body that waits outside the little white church brought me back to face a past that should have remained there.

  Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath and say in a shaky voice, “How much do I owe you?”

  “On the house.”

  He turns and throws me a curious look and I see the questions in his eyes that I know he will never ask. He smiles kindly and reveals a gold encrusted smile as he says gently, “It’s been paid.”

  Once again, I battle the tears as I nod and say in a voice that sounds nothing like mine, “Thank you.”

  I don’t ask who paid because I already know the answer. My family paid and not the one that’s crowded inside that little white church. My real family, the ones who found me and took me in. The people who took a broken angel and built her into the strong woman I am today because I am a strong woman. I have become a warrior, a fighter and a woman that takes no shit because of them. Now I need to prove that I’ve learned the lessons they taught and face my biggest fear.

  Taking a deep breath, I take the fire that’s been burning inside for what feels like my whole life and caress it gently. It no longer hurts because that fire is what gives me strength. It burns with passion and purpose and is what keeps my cold heart warm and alive. Now I’m going to take that fire and unleash it on the very people who made my life hell and watch them burn in its unforgiving flame.

  It’s time.

  I exit the cab and am relieved to discover my legs hold me in place. Upright and with a strength I thought had deserted me. I steel myself to look at the walnut polished casket and feel a stab of remorse for the man who lies inside. My father.

  I see the curious looks of the men who stand by silently, waiting to carry him inside and the priest smiles at me with a sympathy that’s not needed. I don’t mourn the man who breathes no more. I don’t mourn the fact I never got to say goodbye and I don’t mourn the fact my father is dead.

  It’s about time.

  Pulling my shoulders back, I stare at the men with empty eyes and am grateful mine are hidden behind the blackest shade. The sun beats down on me and warms my soul and I discover a lightness to my step that fills me with surprise. I’m ok.

  As the realization hits me I breathe out in relief. Yes, Angelica Johnson is actually ok. I forgot who she was for a while because I haven’t used my full name since I left. I’m Angel now because Angelica deserved to die. She was weak and pathetic and I have no time for her. Angel is the woman I always wanted to be, and she takes no shit, so I stare at the priest and nod coolly and start the long walk inside.

  I ignore the curious looks of the congregation as I walk through the church and hear the whispers that follow me like the coolest breeze as I pass. I stare straight ahead and make no eye contact as I walk with purpose to the front of the church. The organ plays its somber tune and I resist the urge to skip like a carefree girl as I head to where I belong. The front.

  I hear the gasps as the fact I’m here at all registers with the many mourners crowded inside and as I reach the front, I see the stone-cold faces of the people who dare to call themselves my family.

  “Angelica!”<
br />
  Her voice is soft and disbelieving and I stare at her with interest, noting the tears glistening in her eyes and the pallor of a woman shrouded in grief. She’s aged a lot and I hope I’m responsible. “Hi, mom.”

  She sobs as she stands to greet me but I take a step back reinforcing the fact I have an invisible shield protecting me and drag my eyes to the woman who sits beside her. The anger knots inside my heart as the cool eyes of my sister stare back at me. Just for a moment we are locked in combat. She appears angry that I’m here which fills me with pleasure. She should be angry because by the time I’ve finished she’ll wish I’d crawled away to die so she would never have to face me again.

  She turns away and my mother says in a hushed whisper, “Move along and let Angelica sit.”

  As if by magic, a space appears and I take it without uttering a single word. There will be plenty of time for words later and they will not like the ones I speak because five years is a long time to wrestle with the hurt and pain they caused me and it’s time to repay the favor.

  As the service begins and the body of my father is laid to rest, I wonder if he ever repented his sins. I feel nothing as I listen to the words of a man who obviously didn’t know what a monster the Grim Reaper has claimed.

  The Grim Reaper, how that name brings joy to my heart and a warm feeling inside. Reaper. Yes, that’s what I am now. A Twisted Reaper because when Angelica Johnson was broken, they took her in and put back the pieces with stronger glue. Angel sits among her family as a Twisted Reaper and they are about to discover what that means.

  I know I don’t have long. As the service continues, I hear no words spoken. I can’t even focus on the fact that I’m surrounded once again by my family because now there is only one thing on my mind. Him.

  I stare straight ahead because I can’t risk catching sight of the man who broke me. I know he’s here. I can feel him. He’s sitting a few feet away and yet I haven’t laid eyes on him. I know he’s here because there’s a prickle of electricity that is crackling between us. My heart is twisting inside me as it struggles to remain intact because one look into his eyes and all the good work I’ve done in keeping myself from folding would be undone in a heartbeat. Even thinking his name sends me into a downward spiral as I imagine how I will feel when I look into those eyes again.

  Sebastian Stone. His name causes the oxygen to freeze in my lungs and my heart starts beating a different tune as I contemplate meeting the man who ruined me and I almost run again—almost.

  I know he’s here because, as I said, I feel him. I always have and probably always will.

  It’s him I focus on getting me through this service. It’s him I consider as my father is honored with words and it’s him I came back to face. My sister’s fiancé.

  2

  The service ends and the circus continues outside. As soon as the casket passes me, I’m on my feet and walking purposefully behind it. I stare at nothing as I pass the whispers that follow me wherever I go. I can’t make eye contact with the man I now hate with a passion that has only intensified over the years. Love and hate are a double-edged sword because one is never far from the other. I loved him once with my whole heart and that night, like a cancer, hate turned that love into a festering wound that has never healed. It has seeped into the cracks of a broken heart and mind and sown the seed of the greatest hatred a woman can ever feel for a man who took her innocence and crushed it to dust.

  As we form a circle around the open pit that will be my father’s eternal home, I raise my eyes and stare straight into the ones I fear the most.

  He stands across the gaping hole directly in front of me and I know that was not by chance. He leaves nothing to chance and never has. He has placed himself in my direct line of sight for a reason. He is angry but I doubt not half as much as I am.

  Grateful for the dark shades that obscure my emotion, I stare at the man who caused me to run in the first place. Cold, hard eyes, stare back at me with the promise that this isn’t over until he says it is.

  I feel my heart beating as everything else fades out around me until it’s just us, as it always used to be.

  Time has been good to him as I always knew it would. The sharp suits he wears may as well be spun with gold because I can tell his tailor is a costly one. Dark hair as black as the shadows he wrapped me in, gleams in the sunlight and those eyes. They search my soul and rip the answers from inside me with no words spoken. They question and challenge and I swallow hard. Yes, Sebastian Stone grew into an impressive man and any desire I had for that man was replaced with a white-hot fury and a thirst for revenge.

  As the priest commits my father’s body to the ground, I commit my soul to revenge. I watch my sister stand beside the man that should have been mine and see her hand on his arm as she stares at me across the divide. The physical and emotional one as we are locked in combat over one man. Him. I wonder about their relationship because where she seeks reassurance from him; he offers none in return. She may as well be an irritating insect for all the attention he is showing her. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me and there is so much tension in the air I wonder if the oxygen can battle through it.

  Then the service ends and we are invited to say our goodbyes. My mother steps forward and places a single white rose on the coffin of her husband and wipes away a lone tear. Mirabelle Johnson. Even now she is keeping up the pretence of actually loving the man inside that coffin but I know inside, she is probably already planning his replacement. We are taught to love our parents but, in my book, love is earned not expected and any I had for that woman died years ago.

  She moves away, feigning grief, as my sister steps forward. Anastasia Johnson, bitch sibling from hell. She lies her own white rose on the casket and makes a show of sobbing and stumbling as if in grief. She half turns toward him but he either doesn’t notice or ignores her. Who am I kidding, of course he notices but that’s just him, a cold hard bastard with no feelings? I should be glad I had a lucky escape. I should pity my poor sister and I shouldn’t care—but I do. I always have done and now, seeing him again, all the work of the last five years counts for zero because as I look into the cold, hard, eyes of the man who broke my heart, I am destroyed all over again.

  One by one the mourners lay their roses on the coffin of the man who can’t hurt me anymore. As they file away only two people are left standing, Sebastian and me. I know we are providing a freak show for the mourners who are more interested in the power play between us than the fact they’ve come to pay their last respects to a man who demanded that respect in life but I will not play into their hands. Stepping forward, I ignore the rose with my name on it and grab a handful of dirt from the pile that sits next to the grave and, in full view of everyone, I spit on it and then toss it onto the flower festival covering the wooden box. The gasps echo around the churchyard as I turn and walk away.

  I almost make it back to the cab but feel a hand on my shoulder and a familiar voice say angrily, “Angelica, please, just stop!”

  Spinning around, I see my mother staring at me with white-hot fury in her eyes and something I’m not prepared for - love.

  “Please - don’t go.”

  She reaches up and removes my shades and stares into my eyes and her voice trembles as she pleads, “Please don’t leave again. We need to talk.”

  If she was hoping to see anything other than hatred in my eyes, she will be disappointed because I face her with twenty-three years of hurt and pain in mine, as I utter the first words I have spoken to her in five years. “Why should I?”

  She shrugs and I see a little of her old fire return as she shakes her head. “I know you’re angry but we can talk about that. I just want the conversation that should have happened five years ago.”

  “A conversation, are you kidding me?”

  “Yes, there’s a lot that needs to be said and you will hear me out before you head back to god only knows where you’ve been hiding since you turned your back on this family.”

&nb
sp; She wants words but they fail me now as she looks at me with the eyes of a woman who never really sees what’s staring her in the face. She never did and obviously that hasn’t changed.

  She smiles and says in a gentler voice, “I know you’re angry but we need to talk about it. Please, come back to the house, just to talk, nothing more. I’ve missed you so much and can’t bear the thought of you walking out on me again.”

  I half turn toward the cab and she says with some urgency, “Please, Angelica, I’m begging you, don’t walk away.”

  As I turn, I see out of the corner of my eye, my sister glaring at me as she watches us. She would like nothing more than to see me disappear again and for that reason alone I say in a harsh voice, “Fine. A conversation it is then.”

  Mom sighs with relief and I wonder why she’s bothering. She never did all the time I was growing up, so I wonder what’s changed? My curiosity wrestles my better judgement as I turn toward the cab. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

  As I slam the door on my mother, I sink back on the seat, close my eyes and take a deep breath. I made it through.

  The cab driver turns and says softly, “Where to, darlin’?”

  I reel off the familiar address and he turns the engine on and as we pull away, I don’t look back. Maybe I never should because what will that solve? Is it worth my time looking back on a past that almost destroyed me? Maybe I should never have come because I am opening a wound that never really healed. Seeing then again reinforced that. Then there’s him - the boy I grew up with. My best friend and the person I confided in the most. The boy I told my secrets to and trusted more than anyone. The boy who stuck up for me at school and filled my days with laughter and happiness. The boy who turned into a man who slipped into my bed at night and made me into a woman when the rest of the house slept. The man who awakened feelings in me I never knew I had and the man who promised never to leave me. I gave him my innocence and his kisses brought new life to my soul. However, this sleeping beauty woke up to find her Prince was a monster in disguise because that bastard turned his back on her and chose her sister instead.