A Million Tiny Pieces Read online

  A Million Tiny Pieces

  Nicole Edwards

  SL Independent Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 806

  Hutto, Texas 78634

  www.slipublishing.com

  Copyright © Nicole Edwards, 2014

  All rights reserved.

  This is a self-published title.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  A Million Tiny Pieces is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Image: © zelfit – 123rf.com; © arsgera – 123rf.com

  Cover Design: © Nicole Edwards Limited

  Editing: Blue Otter Editing

  ISBN (electronic): 978-1-939786-40-1

  ISBN (print): 978-1-939786-39-5

  Dedication

  To you, the reader.

  I recently celebrated two years of writing full time and I have to say, without you, I wouldn’t be here. I am truly blessed. Thank you.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About Nicole Edwards

  Prologue

  End of August

  AFTER THE SUDDEN death of his father three months ago, venture capitalist Phoenix Pierce has become the youngest team owner in NHL history. We are here to announce that, with the NHL board of governors’ official approval, Phoenix’s minority share in the Austin Arrows combined with his father’s majority share now puts twenty-nine-year-old Pheonix at the helm of the Arrows organization.

  When recently asked whether there would be changes to the team in the upcoming season, Phoenix advised that there had already been plans in the works prior to Sidney Pierce’s death. Sid died suddenly from a heart attack back in May.

  From what we’ve learned from Tarik Marx, the public relations spokesperson for the Arrows, Phoenix intends to implement those changes and move forward. He has assured us that the team is healthy and strong and looking forward to a solid year ahead.

  Phoenix refused to comment further on the pending lawsuit from real estate mogul Damien Landry. According to our sources, prior to Sid’s death, there was a rumor that the team was to be sold to Landry for a reported $280 million. Forbes.com recently valued the Arrows at $205 million, although the team has reported an estimated $10 million loss each year due to its continued decline in rankings.

  We were told by a source close to Landry that Sid had backed out of the deal two months prior to his death; however, no documentation has been provided to support Landry’s claim. Yet Landry refuses to go away quietly.

  As Tarik made his way into the room, Phoenix hit the button on the remote to turn off the television, causing the darkened room to be cloaked in silence.

  Dropping onto the arm of the sofa, Tarik forced a smile as he watched his boss stare at the blank TV screen. It was far too early in the morning to be drinking, but since neither of them had gone to sleep yet, it was fitting.

  Twisting so that he could face Phoenix, Tarik held up his beer bottle. “You’re in full control now. It might be bittersweet, but it’s still a win.”

  “Bittersweet,” Phoenix echoed, not bothering to look up from where he was slumped on the sofa as he blindly held up his beer bottle, clanking it with Tarik’s. “Bitter-fucking-sweet.”

  »»»»»♥«««««

  MIA CANTRELL PROPPED her shoulder against the wall, staring out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the high-rise condominium she had recently purchased and moved into as she willed her fluttering heart to settle. Kings of Leon softly crooned through the speakers in her living room but did little to ease the tension that had been building for the last few days.

  With her second cup of coffee warming her hands, she watched the sun peek over the Austin skyline laid out before her, trying to get a grip on herself. It would’ve been decidedly easier if she weren’t pondering how her life had gone so wrong.

  Wrong? No, wait. She tossed the word around in her mouth for a moment but didn’t like the feel. Maybe wrong wasn’t necessarily the appropriate word.

  Touching her lips with the tips of her fingers, Mia realized she was smiling. Now that she thought about it, she was inclined to say that she was actually quite content for the first time in a very long time, even excited about her new lease on life. So maybe it was more accurate to use the word different in this case.

  Yes … things were now so very different.

  Moving her hand to her chest, she noticed her heart had finally stopped pounding, although she could still feel the anxious flutter in her tummy.

  As soon as she had crawled into bed last night, she had realized how eager she was for this day to start. Naturally, that excitement had carried over into her dreams. Two hours ago, just as Mia had done in grade school when her mother would wake her on the first day of a new school year, she had practically leaped out of bed. But not from her mother’s sweet words or her mother’s gentle hand nudging her awake. Nope, Mia’s alarm clock had belted out a noise — one that should be illegal in at least half the country — that got her moving today. It had had the same effect a fire alarm would have. She had thrown off the covers, shot upright out of her bed before she’d even realized she was awake.

  As she’d learned that morning, it was vastly different getting ready these days than it had been for the last few years. When it wasn’t necessary to get perfectly coifed, lacquered, and spit-shined, things were considerably easier. After drying her hair, Mia had realized that she didn’t need to curl her long blonde locks. And when she went to put on her makeup, she recognized it was not necessary to accentuate her bright blue eyes with tons of eyeliner and mascara, either. She wasn’t that girl anymore.

  So, instead of spending an extra hour polishing herself to perfection, Mia had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, secured it in place with a brightly colored rubber band, applied a clear gloss to her lips, and pulled on her favorite outfit these days — jeans an
d an oversized, comfy T-shirt.

  What was left was a much younger woman staring back at her, and she happened to like the new image. This new version of herself … well, she seemed less confined, less restricted.

  Significantly more confident.

  As far as Mia was concerned, this was exactly where she was meant to be. And in a few minutes, she would be taking the next steps in jump-starting the rest of her life.

  Her first day of college.

  Chapter One

  January

  “GOOD MORNING, MR. Pierce,” Phoenix’s doorman, George, greeted, holding the glass door open to allow him to enter when he strolled up to the building.

  Strolled. Right. Because that was what he was doing.

  Waving him off briefly, Phoenix stopped inside the lobby to catch his breath. Folding himself over, he pressed his hands to his knees and sucked in oxygen as though the world were in short supply. His lungs happened to feel as though it really was.

  These days, his hour-long morning runs were getting the best of him. During the particularly brutal form of hell that he’d put himself through today, Phoenix had finally convinced himself that this was another kind of self-punishment that he was allowing to get out of hand.

  Not that he planned to do anything about that — he had merely accepted it.

  “Good morning, George,” Phoenix replied when he could form words and not sound like a vacuum hose stuck to a pillow.

  George smiled down at him. “I didn’t realize you were back in town, Mr. Pierce. Will you be here for a while?”

  “Nope,” he answered, the only word he could shove past his constricted lungs. Forcing his tired muscles to return him to his full height, he slapped the air fleetingly, an exhausted form of a wave, and headed toward the elevators that would take him to the penthouse.

  “Good morning, Mr. Pierce,” Roy, the elderly man who prided himself on manning the front desk, said cheerfully as he punched the up arrow on the wall to call the elevator. “The other elevator’s on the fritz again. We’ve called a repairman, so hopefully it’ll be back to normal in a bit.”

  Phoenix nodded in Roy’s direction, still trying to preserve what oxygen he did have. He didn’t really care about the status of the elevators, but he wasn’t going to tell Roy that.

  Instead, he walked in a circle on the gray travertine floor, hands on his hips, chest still rising and falling rapidly, trying to keep his muscles from locking up as he watched the numbers above the elevator doors, waiting for the next car to arrive. It had momentarily paused at seventeen and was down to two before he stopped pacing and stood stone still, hoping like hell his quads weren’t going to do some sort of new trick and refuse to stretch enough to walk.

  Phoenix dropped his gaze to the floor, allowing his hood to cover most of his face, not wanting to make eye contact with whomever was coming off the elevator. Today was not the day for a complete stranger to want to engage him in a conversation about hockey, something he found himself doing more and more often these days.

  When the doors opened, the first thing he saw was a pair of running shoes. They were too small to belong to a man, so he allowed his gaze to travel north slowly.

  Very slowly.

  A pair of trim, jean-clad legs came into view. And as he continued his path upward, moving on to admire the small, curvy hips attached to the impressive legs, he found himself skipping over the oversized sweatshirt until he met a pair of crystal-blue eyes staring back at him. From this distance, those eyes seemed to glow — a brilliant turquoise, so clear, so pure that the color was probably only rivaled by that of the waters of the Caribbean.

  “Excuse me,” the succulent mouth attached to the beautiful face that held the bright blue eyes said.

  Those words had Phoenix’s gaze sliding back down to her lips. Perfect pink lips that he noticed were not forming a smile.

  Well, hell.

  Phoenix nodded his head — a nonverbal form of an apology — knowing there was no sense trying to force the words out through his abused lungs. Although now they were oxygen deficient because this woman had taken his breath away, not because he’d run nine miles.

  Phoenix couldn’t look away as she moved around him, giving him a wide berth, those striking blue eyes tracking his every move as though he might jump on her at the first possible chance.

  Oh, jumping on her was definitely on his mind, but not in the way she was probably imagining. Phoenix was suddenly thinking about naked acrobatics, actually. Some slick, sweaty sex that resulted in those blue eyes piercing his as he made her come a hundred different ways, in a thousand different positions.

  He realized he was still staring at her, watching the gentle sway of her sweet, heart-shaped ass encased in lucky fucking denim. He wanted to be her fucking jeans at that moment.

  The elevator dinged, and Phoenix turned back to see the doors were beginning to close. He shoved his arm in to stop them, waving Roy off, not wanting to wait another five minutes for the damn thing to return. As he backed into the car, he watched the sexy blonde smile at George as they engaged in a short conversation.

  He wanted to be George.

  Okay, no. He did not fucking want to be George.

  But Phoenix did have every intention of talking to George a little later. After all, he wanted to know who those blue eyes belonged to. Apparently the doorman knew her well enough to earn a sweet smile before the woman moved closer to the door.

  When she stepped out onto the street and out of his line of sight, Phoenix punched in a code that would take him to the penthouse. As the elevator doors closed, effectively blocking any opportunity of seeing the woman who was responsible for kicking his heart rate back up into dangerous territory, he gave in to his exhaustion and allowed the wall to hold him up.

  Jesus Christ, he was acting like a fucking teenage boy. He really needed to get a grip.

  The elevator ride to the top floor was as painful as waiting for the damn thing on the first floor, and by the time the doors slid open, Phoenix was desperate to get out of the steel box. He stepped into the lavish entry that smelled oddly of cinnamon for reasons unbeknownst to him, and after crossing the vast space that separated his door from the elevator, he punched in another code to gain entry to his condo.

  Nudging the door open a fraction of an inch, he glanced back over his shoulder, trying to locate the source of the smell. It had to be his mother’s doing — that was the only logical explanation — but for the life of him, Phoenix had no idea what the hell it could be. The only thing he noticed — with the exception of all the Christmas decorations having finally been taken down — was a bowl of pinecones resting on the antique table that sat between the two sets of elevator doors.

  Did pinecones smell like cinnamon? Surely not.

  Realizing he truly didn’t give a shit, Phoenix grabbed the knob and pushed open the front door to his condo.

  When he stepped inside, he was breathing regularly and his heart was no longer trying to crack through a rib. He grabbed the stack of mail that was sitting on the table inside the door, the same place his bodyguard/public relations spokesman/assistant, Tarik Marx, put it every day.

  The guy had too many fucking job titles, that was all there was to it.

  As usual, Phoenix took a moment to flip through the envelopes, not finding any of them especially appealing. Tossing them back on the table, he glanced in the mirror hanging on the wall in front of him.

  Damn. No wonder the blue-eyed woman had given him a wide berth as she’d come off the elevator. The black hoodie he wore covered most of his head, and the little bit of his face that was visible looked downright lethal. His black hair fell across his forehead, his green eyes glittered, probably from the pain and suffering of having pushed himself to his limits that morning. Hell, even his nose looked a little more crooked than normal. Scrubbing his hands over his jaw, he realized he needed to shave.

  Hopefully, he’d had the decency to smile when she had been standing there, allowing him to ey
e fuck her first thing in the morning. Knowing him, he hadn’t. He didn’t smile much these days, mainly because it took too much fucking effort.

  “Phoenix, is that you?”

  “If it’s not, then I may have to question who you let in here, Mother,” Phoenix replied, snatching the mail up once more and flipping through it again. Anything to look busy.

  His mother made it her job to visit him every morning. She had her own condo in the same building, yet she arrived at some point after Phoenix left for his daily run, and she stuck around for a short time after he got back, longer if he didn’t appear to have anything to do. Not that he didn’t love his mother, but despite what she thought, he really was busy.

  Too busy.

  “Don’t you get smart with me, young man.”

  Smiling to himself, Phoenix didn’t respond.

  His mother must’ve known he had no retort, because she added, “Tarik should be here any minute.”

  “Yes, he should. And your point?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the envelopes and making his way through the vast, open area that served as a living room, dining room, and den.

  His condo consisted of the entire thirty-sixth floor. Roughly five thousand square feet overlooking downtown Austin in a building he personally owned that housed three hundred and forty additional condominiums. It should’ve been enough space to keep him from having to run into someone every time he walked through the door, especially since he lived alone, but that never seemed to be the case.

  With one eye still on his mail, Phoenix stepped into the commercial-grade kitchen, feeling his mother’s eyes track him as he stopped in front of the refrigerator.

  Sometimes Phoenix wished Tarik didn’t feel the need to go down to the gym every morning while Phoenix went for his morning run. If the guy would come to work first thing, Phoenix would be spared this awkward daily confrontation with his mother. Most of the time, Phoenix was back before Tarik arrived, which meant he was left dealing with his mother alone.