Forever: Broken #3 Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Forever

  (Broken #3)

  Forever (Broken #3) by A. E. Murphy

  Copyright 2017 by A. E. Murphy

  Kindle Edition

  Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A. E. Murphy’s Other Works

  Contact Details

  Dedication

  Adriana Rizak-Healing, this one’s for you. Had your love for Nathan never existed, his story might never have been finished in words. I have so much love for you.❤

  Acknowledgements

  Normally I’d know exactly what to put in this, who to thank and how to thank them but it’s impossible. Throughout this entire writing journey I have met and fallen in platonic love with more people than I can name. Each and every single one of you have left a mark on me in some way that will never fade.

  Adriana Rizak-Healing

  Samantha Louise Heaney

  Elisia Goodman

  Elizabeth Butts

  Melissa Teo

  Zean Maskell

  Charlena Barclay

  Rivka Spicer

  Addi Whillock

  Siobhan Long

  Gina Paul

  Alyssia

  Aydin

  Ali

  The list goes on and on and on. Thank you. Simply, thank you for everything, to the people I know personally and to my readers. I’m supposed to be good with words but instead, your constant support and love that I’m not even sure I deserve, has rendered me emotionally speechless.

  Chapter One

  “Dillan!”

  Something crashes; it sounds like Dillan’s toy train against the door. At least I hope it’s his toy train. The destructive little sod that he is has broken more dishes than we own.

  “He’s possessed.” I hear Nathan yell and smile when tiny feet hammer across the wooden floor, followed by the sound of larger ones. Dillan’s little giggle echoes through the large house. Snort. “He’s possessed!”

  “I heard you!” I shout down the stairs, stifling my laughter. I gently ease Emily, our gorgeous one-year-old baby girl, out of her cot bed and carry her down the stairs.

  “Mama,” she coos softly and rests her head on my shoulder. Her fingers go to her mouth and she sucks on them as we watch Dillan race through the hallway, his little bare butt wriggling as he passes. His laughter is evil. He knows exactly how much trouble he’s causing. He just loves to wind up his daddy.

  “I swear on all that is holy…” Nathan stops beside me and we both watch Dillan slam the kitchen door. He sighs and turns me into his arms, squishing Emily between us. She squawks uncomfortably so I place her on the ground and tilt my head back to receive his kiss. “You need to go.”

  “I know.” I press my lips to his and smile when I feel his fingers drift over my cheek and into my hair. “Will you be okay?”

  “Uh-oh.” Emily sounds and Nathan stiffens.

  “You little…!”

  I turn and pinch my lips together when I see Dillan holding his top up with his hands, releasing a stream of pee aimed at the wall by the kitchen door.

  He takes off running, giggling like the crazy little bugger that he is.

  “Dillan.” I chastise. “Now daddy is going to have to bleach everything!”

  I grab Emily before she can crawl to the puddle and splash in it. Yes, this has happened before.

  “He’ll be potty trained soon. Keep persevering.” I assure Nathan, who has Dillan in his outstretched arms.

  Nathan glares at me so I take this as my cue to leave.

  “I love you!” I yell at them all before depositing Emily on the floor and rushing from the house.

  Today is my First day training to be a chef after leaving Valentine’s only three weeks ago. I’ve only been working part time since Emily became eight months old so I know how challenging this new venture is going to be.

  Kerim Dal, the leading chef in the UK is training me. ME! He’s a culinary genius. I’ve tried and tested ninety percent of his recipes and I issue my stamp of approval for everything but one weird minty aubergine creation. I wasn’t a fan of that one but I’m sure if I had the taste buds for it I would have loved it.

  If I could happy squeal and clap my hands while driving, I would so do that right now.

  It’s not until I’ve pulled up outside the restaurant ‘Little Ambrosia’ that my nerves really begin to kick in. The building is fancy, huge and… did I say fancy? For an untrained chef to start here is unreal. I am extremely fortunate.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, using the moment of distraction to collect myself.

  Sasha: You got this.

  Mum: Bring me the leftovers.

  Nathan: We love you. I love you and I am so proud of you.

  Nathan’s is the only one I respond to.

  Gwen: Thank you Spongebob. <3

  Tucking my phone into my bag, I climb out of my car and make my way to the entrance. According to the instructions I received, an outfit will be waiting for me in the staffroom by the kitchen.

  Where’s the kitchen?

  The lobby is huge; the walls are little more than glass panel doors with net curtains drawn to the sides. I move to the first set that leads into the large room. It stinks of money. The theme seems very royal and flowery. Heavy-looking chairs surround large round tables that are surrounded by smaller round tables. There are no booths here but there are tables in the corner, partially hidden beyond six-foot-tall dividers that offer a little more privacy.

  “No!” I hear bellowed and a pan clatters loudly from the back of the room. I spot the kitchen through a large gap in the wall. Of course the kitchen staff will be open to view. That doesn’t make me more nervous at all. “You don’t put sweet potatoes and parsnips in with lamb. It’s too sweet!”

  My teeth find my lower lip and bite down hard. My feet suddenly feel leaden. I’m not sure I can move.

  Gwen: This place is legit cool. It’s like�
� billion-dollar cool.

  Sasha: And Nathan hasn’t taken you yet?

  I watch as two men in chef’s whites wave frantically at each other and shout in another language as a female in a matching white double breasted coat stirs something in a pan over one of the many stoves. My mouth drops open when the man on the left, who I recognise as Kerim Dal, grabs the guy on the right, who I think is his Executive chef and cousin – thank you Wikipedia – and throws him three feet backwards before throwing another dish at the wall. A dish full of food. Is this how they behave when the restaurant is full?

  Now I’m scared.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Kerim’s eyes cut into the dark restaurant seating area and find me, standing, my bag over one shoulder, no doubt trembling. His eyes narrow and he says something else to the Executive Chef before coming out to greet me through a set of large, grey double doors that say exit on them. A smaller door on the other side of the wall gap has the word, ‘entrance’ printed on it.

  “You.” Kerim barks striding towards me. He has at least five inches of towering height over me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” I take a step back as he continues coming for me. “I’m Guinevere.”

  “Guinevere?” His lips, shadowed by a narrow, well-trimmed goatee, curl with confusion.

  “I start training today.”

  “And you came in through the front door?”

  My mouth falls open. I’m unsure why I’m suddenly a target. “Was I not supposed to?”

  “What the…” His almost black eyes widen with surprise, the contrast making his dark caramel coloured skin seem darker. “Seriously? What chef takes the front door?”

  I want to go home now.

  “You come through the kitchen, through the back or you don’t come at all.” He shouts, his Turkish accent light though noticeable. My eyes follow his arm which waves towards the kitchen area. “I’m assuming you’ve parked using the customer car park too?”

  At this point I feel as though silence is best.

  “And Nathan assured me you were smart…next joke. Move your fucking car and come in the appropriate entrance or fuck off. And bring your brain with you.” With that, he turns on his heel and storms back to the kitchen.

  I think I might cry.

  “Fucking arsehole,” I mutter under my breath instead of sobbing like I want to. I stalk from the restaurant, back the way I came. I’ve dealt with worse than him. I refuse to crumble, especially on my first day. “I’ve got this.”

  It takes me a while but when I finally find the secret entrance for employee vehicles, I park in a spot I hope isn’t reserved and head to the large, metal double doors. One of them is propped open with a fire extinguisher. It leads to a small, white tiled area and another set of double doors.

  The door on the right opens and the executive chef, whose name escapes me, storms past, throwing his hat on the floor as he goes. He stops at the stone steps leading down towards the parking area and screams to the heavens.

  “Don’t worry about him; they are always like this,” the female states and motions for me to enter the kitchen.

  “You’re seven minutes late,” Kerim bellows, dipping his finger into a white coloured sauce in a pan on the stove before sucking it into his mouth. “Better, Umut.”

  “Fuck you!” The Executive chef yells and Kerim rolls his eyes.

  “You’re Gwen?” He asks, knowing full well that I am Gwen.

  I nod.

  “Good. Patience!” He barks and at first I think he’s telling me to have patience, but then the woman who greeted me moments ago appears by my side. “Take her to change. Show her around the kitchen.” He steps into my space and narrows his slanted black eyes. “If you need telling twice, you’re not right for this kitchen.”

  “No pressure then,” I mutter and his nostrils flare.

  “This, my dear girl,” his tone is heavy with disdain, “is the kitchen of the damned. It is one of the busiest restaurants and most expensive restaurants in the whole of the United Kingdom. The pressure is unbelievable, but your boyfriend…”

  “Fiancé,” I correct unnecessarily.

  “Assured me you could handle it,” he spits, clearly annoyed at the fact I’ve opened my mouth to speak without his permission. I can’t help it; it’s an illness.

  Before I can answer, Patience, the thirty something female with gorgeous sandy blonde hair peeking from beneath her white hat, pulls me towards a door on the far left.

  “This is the staff quarters where we get to just take a moment if we have time to take a moment.” The room is cosy; it has a couch, a day bed and two doors leading to female and male toilets. I notice a secondary fire exit too and the windows allow a lot of light, even though the blinds are drawn. “We rarely get time to take a moment though, so don’t be surprised if the only time you see this room is to hang your things up on arrival.”

  I place my things in the designated area and wave goodbye to my phone.

  “You’ll start with Delphine,” Patience tells me. “She handles the pantry. Today you’ll be learning how we work together as a team and where things go. I suggest you study the pantry now because if you screw up, there will be no second chances.”

  “Exactly,” Umut puts in, giving me an apologetic smile. “It’s nothing personal. We all suffered this way in the beginning.”

  “How many have come before me?” I ask, attempting not to gulp with fear.

  “Too many, most of them already trained in the finest kitchens.” Patience whispers, her light green eyes glittering. “Most of them quit before the end of the day.” She leads me to the pantry. “Study until I call you. I won’t over complicate today for you.”

  “Thank you.” She leaves me by the heavy metal door that looks better built than a bank safe. “Holy fuck,” I mutter under my breath. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  The living room light is on when I pull into the residential carpark just across from our three-bedroom townhouse. For the price we paid for this tiny building in London we could have afforded a mansion in the countryside or smaller towns of Britain. Unfortunately needs must. After the country house burned down, we have yet to decide what to do with the land and Nathan needed to be close to his newly opened store. It has prospered so well with his gorgeous jewellery line, he has been able to open another in Newcastle.

  London is where we need to be and luckily it has all worked out okay, with my new job being here too. If we’d stayed in Skegness where my mum lives, I’d not have this opportunity and Nathan would need to be away five of seven nights.

  I see the curtains twitch in the living room window and make a move. I sure hope Nathan has coped better than I have today.

  My fingers find the zipper to my jacket and pull it down as I cross the one-way street and ready my key to unlock the door quietly.

  It opens before I get the chance and I’m yanked inside by the man I love within the space of a second.

  He kicks the door closed and presses me to it.

  “Careful,” I moan, my voice a whisper. The fact there’s no noise means the kids are sleeping. “I ache everywhere.”

  His light brown eyes find mine in the dim lighting and the back of his knuckles trace my cheek. “I know how to make you feel better.”

  “You do?” I raise a sceptical brow. If he’s thinking what I think he’s thinking, that definitely isn’t going to make me feel better.

  I squeal when he lifts me into his arms and carries me into the living room, where the scent of vanilla and cherries settles gently in the air.

  “What are you doing?” I giggle when his hand finds the light and flicks it down, leaving nothing but candlelight to illuminate the space.

  “Looking after you,” he states and finally places me on the ground. He motions to where the couch cushions are spread in a line on the floor, a thin blanket and towel draped over them.

  “I’m confused.”

  His answering smile is so handsome it still, to this
day, takes my breath away. “Step out of your shoes.”

  “Umm…”

  “Just do it,” he orders, his tone exasperated, so I quickly kick off my black leather shoes and flex my ankles. His hands peel my jacket down my arms before tossing it onto the naked couch. “I love this.” Fingers tickle the space between my shoulder blades. “You have a trail of the finest hair.” His lips touch the space where his hand just wandered. A shiver slowly weaves down my spine, twisting and pulsing along the nerves. “It makes you look shiny.”

  “No, I think that’s just the sweat.” I turn in his arms. “You shouldn’t touch me; I’m gross.”

  “Be quiet,” he chuckles and pulls my thin vest up and over my head. “How was your first day?”

  “Hard,” I admit, closing my eyes when his hands smooth down my arms and tickle to the inside of my wrists. “I’m so tired.”

  “I bet.” His lips find my jaw as his hands unfasten my black trousers. They drop to my ankles. “Step out of them.”

  I take a step backwards, putting a small space between us. His eyes gaze upon my body, a hungry glint in their almost chocolate brown depths.

  “Your beauty mesmerises me,” he states, holding out his hand. I take it and allow him to lead me to the pillows. “On your front.”

  When I’m comfortably situated on the pillows, he immediately rids me of my bra and drips warm oil onto my back.

  I laugh gently and wriggle, though he soon stops that by parting my thighs and kneeling between them after ridding himself of his T-shirt and jeans. “Stop laughing.”

  “‘Kay,” I murmur, resting my head on folded arms. “You spoil me.”

  “I seem to remember all of those days I’d come home from work exhausted and you’d have this exact layout prepared for me.”

  “What can I say? I’m such a caring fiancée.” His hands begin to smooth the oil into my skin. I smile when I feel the leather of his gloves. It isn’t often that he wears them but he still has his triggers, sticky substances and grainy substances being amongst them. The road to recovery is a long one but I’m extremely proud of how far he has come. “That feels so good.”