Bloom, p.1
Bloom, page 1
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
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
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Don’t miss the thrilling series that started it all!
The Dark King, by Gina L. Maxwell
Fetish, by Anonymous
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by Helen Hardt. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
644 Shrewsbury Commons Ave., STE 181
Shrewsbury, PA 17361
rights@entangledpublishing.com
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Edited by Lydia Sharp and Liz Pelletier
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes
Stock art by Maya Kruchankova/Shutterstock,
Demogorgona/Shutterstock,Agave Studio/Shutterstock
Interior design by Toni Kerr
ISBN 978-1-64937-302-1
Ebook ISBN 978-1-64937-343-4
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition August 2023
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Also by Helen Hardt
Black Rose
Blush
Bloom
Follow Me
Follow Me Darkly
Follow Me Under
Follow Me Always
Steel Brothers Saga
Craving
Obsession
Possession
Wolfes of Manhattan
Rebel
Recluse
Runaway
The Temptation
Tempting Dusty
Teasing Annie
Taking Catie
For my readers.
At Entangled, we want our readers to be well-informed. If you would like to know if this book contains any elements that might be of concern for you, please check the book’s webpage.
https://entangledpublishing.com/books/bloom
Chapter One
Frankie
My sister Mandy—short for Amanda—says I have two settings. High and low.
If there’s any truth to her hypothesis, I’ve been on the low setting for the last month.
Sitting here at dinner with my parents, Mandy, and her best friend and brand-new boyfriend, Jackson Paris, isn’t helping my mood. On tonight of all nights…
Did they really forget what day it is?
Mandy looks adorable, as usual. The woman can eat like a teenage boy and never gain an ounce. Plus she’s the perfect height, whereas I’m the giantess of the bunch—taller than both my sister and my mother. Not that I mind my height, but that plus my wide waist and narrow hips make it difficult to find clothes that fit.
Mandy doesn’t have that issue. Her cute, hourglass figure looks amazing in everything from high fashion to sweats and yoga pants. Tonight, she’s wearing simple black leggings, a pink tunic, and clunky-heeled sandals, and it all works for her.
She clears her throat. “Jack and I have some news.”
Mom smiles. “What is it, dear?”
Mandy raises her left hand, showing us the sparkler on her ring finger. “We’re engaged!”
“That’s wonderful!” Mom grabs Mandy’s hand and eyes the new bauble.
“Congratulations, Jackson, Mandy,” Dad says much more calmly than Mom. He’s never been one to get too emotional, but his smile says it all.
This engagement isn’t news to me. Mandy’s been trying to hide her hand since we sat down, but I caught a glimpse of it.
I noticed it. I knew the announcement was coming. And it’s been eating away at me since I saw that shimmering rock on her finger.
I force a smile. “That’s great, Mand.”
I should be happy for my sister, and I am on some level. Many levels, actually. She’s been in love with Jackson forever, and Mandy never had a lot of dates before him. She’s gorgeous, even though I was always considered the beauty between the two of us. It had more to do with Mandy’s introversion than with anything else. She thought it was because she refused to wear contact lenses until recently. Something about touching her eyeball grossing her out. For Jackson, apparently she touched her eyeball, and then, about a week ago, she got laser surgery so she’d no longer have to. But the truth is that Mandy has always been attractive, glasses or not. She’s the only one who didn’t believe it.
So yeah, I’m happy for my sister.
But tonight? Really?
I’m trying to focus on Mandy and her happiness. Truly trying. But how did they all forget so quickly?
I don’t blame Dad so much. He never remembers important dates. But I expected a lot better from my mother and my sister.
Because today…
Today is the day I was supposed to marry Pendleton Berry.
And instead?
I’m sitting at a family dinner while my sister announces her engagement to Jackson Paris, who, by anyone’s standards, is a first-class stud.
I’ve known him forever. He’s been a staple at our house since before I could talk. He and Mandy have been best friends for so long I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t around. I’m not exactly sure how they became an item, only that a month ago Jack was in a car accident and he woke up in love with my sister.
A few days later?
I found out the truth about my own fiancé.
So my wedding? The one that was supposed to be taking place this very day?
It was canceled, and my relationship was over.
Completely and totally over.
The fiasco with my bridesmaids’ dresses, the bachelorette party… All for nothing.
One of those Long Island Playboys from my bachelorette party gave me his phone number that night and whispered in my ear for me to call him later. He was a hottie, too, with dark-brown skin and light-brown eyes. Looking back, I wish I had taken him up on his offer.
I still have his card with his number on it, but he won’t even remember me at this point.
“And you’ll be my maid of honor of course, Frankie.”
I jerk out of my thoughts at Mandy’s voice and force a smile. “Sure. Of course.”
“It’ll be a small wedding,” Mandy says. “Just you and the best man. No other bridal party.”
I don’t say it, but that’s because Mandy doesn’t have any friends. Not close friends like I have. Isabella, Gigi, and I have been besties since college at Mellville University. Truth be told, I wish they were here with me now. I could use some support.
“This is all so amazing, honey,” Mom says. “We couldn’t have picked a better man for you. Jack, you’re already part of the family. You have been for decades.”
“I’ll be honored to make it official.” Jackson curves his lips up into an infectious grin.
Mandy prattles on about arrangements, and quite frankly it’s getting on my nerves. I want to be happy for her. Mandy deserves everything in the world. But how could they totally not remember that this was the night I was supposed to become Mrs. Pendleton Berry?
Jackson asks the server to bring a bottle of champagne.
And I can’t take it anymore. I stand. “Excuse me. I have to go.”
“Frankie,” Mandy says. “We’re going to toast. I want you here.
I’m not the petulant type. I never have been. There’ve been times when Mandy and I didn’t get along, and I know she’s been envious of me, but I’ve never felt that way toward her.
Right now, though? I do envy her. I hate the feeling, but I do. Not only is she stealing my wedding thunder, but she’s doing it with the proverbial perfect man, and she’s doing it on the night I was supposed to get married. So yeah, I’m feeling a little cantankerous.
I scrunch my napkin in my fist and throw it on top of the table. “No, thank you.”
“Frankie!” Mom admonishes.
I meet my mother’s gaze, so like my own. “You really don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what, Frankie?”
Mandy gasps. “Oh my God, Frankie. I’m so sorry. We weren’t thinking.”
“No, you were thinking. Just not about—” I shake my head.
I want to cry, make them see how upset I am.
But the tears don’t come.
Because I know I’m better off not being Mrs. Pendleton Berry. We were on-again, off-again so many times, and in the end, nothing would have worked between us.
But still, they could’ve thought about the date.
“Please, don’t go,” Mandy says. “We’ll… We’ll cancel the champagne. Right, Jack?”
“Why, Mandy Cake?” Jack asks and then darts his gaze to me. “What’s going on?”
Mandy hates that pet name, but now she seems to take it in stride. “Because today is the day Frankie was supposed to marry Penn, remember?”
Jackson, my mother, and my father all drop their jaws in unison, one right after the other. It’s almost comical.
Great. Here come the looks of sympathy. The looks of pity.
“Frankie,” Mom says. “Oh my gosh. How could we have been so obtuse?”
“I don’t know,” I say, and yes, I say it petulantly.
I’m twenty-seven years old, but at the moment I feel like I’m five and my sister stole my lunch box.
I’m being ridiculous. Childish.
Mandy deserves happiness, and she’ll have it with Jackson. I have no doubt. She will be happier with Jack than I could’ve ever been with Penn.
But still…
It hurts. It freaking hurts. Not so much the breakup with Penn, but the fact that not one of them thought about today’s date.
“Please sit down,” Dad says. “We haven’t ordered yet, and you must be hungry. We’ll make this up to you, Frankie.”
“How do you think you’re going to do that? Do you think I’m not going to remember that you guys all forgot what date this was? You think you can wipe my memory clean? You think you can—”
“Please.” Mom gives me a sympathetic smile. “Just sit. No one is going to try to make you forget. God knows we couldn’t do that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” And yes, I’m petulant again. “I feel like I’m Samantha Baker in that old movie you used to make us watch when we were kids. Sixteen Candles. You know, when the whole family forgot her birthday?”
“We’ve never forgotten your birthday,” Dad says.
True, they haven’t. I sigh. “I know that, Dad.”
“To be honest,” Mandy says, “we thought you were okay. You didn’t seem that upset after you and Penn broke up. You seemed kind of…relieved.”
I won’t give her the satisfaction of telling her she’s right. In the back of my mind, I knew Pendleton Berry wasn’t my forever. But I put so much into him. We were on-again, off-again for over five years, which should’ve been my first clue.
I draw in a breath, count to ten.
I don’t like feeling petulant. And my sister does deserve a moment to shine. Even if it’s on the day I was supposed to become Mrs. Pendleton Berry.
“Congratulations, both of you.” I don’t take my seat. “But honestly, I’m just not feeling up to this. I’m happy for you, truly. But I think I’m going to go.”
“Frankie…” Mom is using her I’m your mother voice.
She is still my mother, but I no longer live at home. I haven’t for the last five years, and I don’t need to do what my mommy says just because she says it.
“I’m sorry, but I’m leaving.”
“We have to talk,” Mandy says. “About wedding stuff. About maid-of-honor stuff.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to do that. I’d rather not do it tonight, if it’s all the same to you.”
Mandy nods, and I can see in her gray eyes that she understands and she’s very sorry.
I will forgive her. I always do. We’ve had knock-down drag-outs that were way worse than this, and we’ve always forgiven each other.
But tonight I can’t be here.
“Okay,” Mandy relents. “And again, Frankie, I’m so—”
I hold up a hand to stop her. I can’t take any more of the pitying looks. “I know you’re sorry. Please let that be the last time you say it.” I grab my purse hanging over my chair, and with as much dignity as I can, I walk away from the table and out of the restaurant.
I’m not sure where I’m going. Isabella and Gigi probably already have plans. It’s Saturday night. Gigi is almost always busy on Saturday, and Isabella is about seventy-five percent of the time. Neither has had a serious relationship since our college days, so they can teach me the ropes now. Show me where to meet the good-quality men.
Hell, I don’t even care if he’s good-quality. I kind of just want to get laid. I still have the card from the Long Island Playboy…
I haven’t eaten, but I’m not particularly hungry. I went on a food bender after Penn told me he was cheating. I had been practically starving myself for the previous two months so I could be svelte on my wedding day, and I went a little overboard after the breakup. After a week of chili fries and Ben & Jerry’s, I haven’t been very hungry since.
Part of me wishes I’d stayed for the champagne toast, but only because alcohol sounds pretty good right now.
I duck into the first bar I see.
It’s on the first floor of a residential building owned by Braden Black, the blue-collar billionaire, which means it’s ultra-swanky—marble flooring, dark wood, and top-shelf liquor lining mirrored glass shelves. Lucky for me, there happen to be a couple of empty stools at the bar. I grab one and fish my credit card out of my purse.
A bartender steps forward, and boy is he hot. Blond with gorgeous blue eyes, and his name tag says Alfred.
He meets my gaze. “Hello there.”
“Hello, Alfred.” I try to smile at him, but it feels fake.
“You look like you could use something to take the edge off.”
“My God, you have no idea. What do you recommend?”
He hands me a menu of custom cocktails. “Do you like sweet drinks? Or do you prefer them on the drier side?”
I glance at the menu but lack the mental energy to process any of the drink descriptions. “At the moment I’m thinking anything with alcohol will do.”
“Been that kind of day, huh?”
“Like I said before, you have no idea.”
“Tell you what.” He smiles. “Let me mix you up something special. I feel like you need a dash of sweetness in your life tonight.”
He probably says that to everyone. “Sure. Whatever. I’m game. But not too sweet.”
Alfred turns away, and I let out a breath. I have no idea what I look like. I did my hair and makeup before I met my parents and Mandy at the restaurant, but I haven’t checked it since then. And you know what? I don’t care.
Someone slides into the seat next to mine.
I look up.
And I suck in a breath.
The man turns to me, his face half obscured with a white mask that covers his eyes and his right cheek. It looks glossy, as if it’s made of porcelain, but it can’t possibly be. That would make it heavy. It’s tied behind his head with a black silk ribbon.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a deep and husky voice. “Did I startle you?”
“No. It’s just…your costume.”
He tilts his head. “What makes you think it’s a costume?”
“Well…” I look over my shoulder. “No one else seems to be dressed like you. Are you part of the entertainment for the night?” There’s no stage here, so he’s probably not here to entertain.
“Maybe this is what I wear all the time. Did you ever think of that?”
I can’t help staring. His hair is the darkest brown—it looks black, except for the hints of gold when the light hits it just right. His eyes are the color of rich coffee, and his jawline is stubbled in black and could be sculpted out of marble. His skin is lightly tanned, and I long to see his full face. I can sort of see half of it, as the Phantom of the Opera mask only covers his eyes and the right side of it.
