Broken Hart (The Hart Family)

This story is dedicated to lovers of romance everywhere.  We are quite the club!  Here’s hoping that your stories are as de
ep as the romances that we all love to read.  If you haven’t found that special someone, get out there and make it happen! Everyone has a soul-mate out there.  Find yours and believe in love and the best is yet to come.

CHAPTER ONE

My morning has started off on a sour note.  I was due at work at nine but didn’t wake up until after eight thirty.  I’m normally on the freeway by that time, so to say I’m late is a serious understatement and now I’m behind schedule and flustered.  I’ve had my job for over a year, and I’ve only been late twice.  Not awful statistics…until you factor in that both times occurred this month.

It’s my own fault that I’m so exhausted that I slept right through the alarm.  After a few years of watching ‘Dancing with The Stars’ and thinking about taking dance lessons, I finally decided to take the leap and do it about four months ago.

As it turned out, I have an aptitude for dancing. So much so that my instructor Dina asked me to step in to dance the tango in a coming competition with a fellow student named Marcus.  Marcus desperately needed a new dance partner after his previous dance partner abruptly quit.

Marcus is younger than me and it shows.  On the other hand he is very talented and friendly.  He’s ridiculously hot and he’s made it very clear that he’s interested, but I don’t feel a spark- though lord knows I wish I did. 
I’ve wondered if I should try to connect with him and see what happens, but I know it wouldn’t be fair to do that when I know I don’t have these feelings toward him.

Anyone who thinks dancing is easy has never tried it. In the past four month’s I’ve lost eight pounds and dropped from a size six to a size four which is something I’m not all together happy about.  I liked having curves and now I’m very lean.  On the up side I’ve gained confidence and skill, not to mention stamina. 

The downside is the constant rehearsing.  It is absolutely exhausting and I’m at the end of my interest in dancing. I’ve decided that after the competition I will back off to once or twice a week at most.  I like it, but I don’t want to compete on a regular basis or make it a career. Last night’s practice was especially grueling.  Marcus and I practiced for six hours in anticipation of next weekend’s competition. My muscles are sore and I’m completely out of sorts this morning. 

Groaning, I realize that I need to tell my boss, Dante Hart, that I’m running late.  Grabbing my iPhone, I send him a text, quickly typing in: “Dante, so sorry I’m running late. Be there ASAP- Sabrina”.  Pressing send, I run for the shower.

Once in the shower, I start thinking of Dante.  Nothing new there since he’s always on my mind in one way or another.  I spent the first few months working with him perfecting my poker face.  I’m fairly certain that he has no idea that I’m attracted to him, and that’s a blessing.  I love my job and it makes me feel good knowing that my sister's education will be fully paid for.  It would be ridiculously awkward if Dante suspected that I have feelings for him.  I’m not in a position to allow emotions to rule my life.

My parents died in a car accident two years ago when I when I was twenty-three and my sister Brooke nineteen. We were very lucky that the life insurance money allowed us to pay the mortgage on our Brentwood house off, all of my student loans and the first two years of Brooke’s UCLA tuition. When I’d applied for a job at Hart International I had done so because I needed a solid job with a good salary that would allow me to pay for the rest of Brooke’s college.

I was thrilled when I was got the job.  The company reputation is amazing, so I knew it would be a huge boost to my resume, and the salary was out of this world.  I was hired fourteen months ago as an assistant to one of the junior executives.

A few weeks later, Dante’s executive assistant Helen got engaged to the head designer at the office in Greece, and she relocated to be with him.  Other assistants in the company started being called up to try their hand at Helen’s job.  Seven assistants were given the chance, but they all quickly returned to their original jobs. The building was abuzz with gossip about disgruntled would-be assistants claiming that Dante was too difficult to work for. 

Another twenty assistants above me had found ways to defer being assigned as Dante’s temporary assistant, which is how I wound up as an executive assistant to the head of the company within a few months of starting.

I smile as I think back to the day I’d first met Dante face to face.  I’d seen his photo before, of course, but I’d never met him.  With everything I’d heard about how difficult he was, (to everyone except Helen) I knew it was expected that I’d be number eight of the assistants that weren’t up to his standards. None of the previous seven had lost their jobs and they all claimed to be happy to go back to their original assignments, but I didn’t want to end up like that.  Not having the tenure the other assistants had, I didn’t want to fumble in my first months on the job.  I knew that if I could show that I could do it, I’d be able to continue to work my way up the ranks within the company.

I'd arrived for on my first day as Dante’s trial assistant wearing a pale gray suit with gray heels, my hair pulled back in to a tight chignon.  I definitely looked the part, and was ready to “Swing for the fences” as my dad used to say.  Although I was thirty minutes early, Dante was already in his office. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I’d gone to the door of his office and looked in. 

Dante had a newspaper spread out in front of him and was engrossed in whatever article he was reading. I was thrown off kilter by how beautiful he was.  Pictures didn’t do him justice, and that’s saying something since I’d never seen a bad photo of him.  I’d been prepared for wildly handsome.  In actuality wildly handsome is a gross understatement.  Dante is stunning. 

That morning his dark hair was tousled, something I’ve come to find is his default hairdo, no matter what style he starts with in the morning.  He runs his hands through his hair when he’s thinking, happy, stressed or tired, so it’s completely unavoidable. Having mussed up hair does not take away his appeal.  If anything, it adds to it.

I drank in the view of him, his shirt sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms with a large Tag Heuer on wrist. His shirt was stretched across what was clearly a very muscular chest.  I got tingly in my stomach just looking at him that day which is something that hasn’t changed in the year I’ve worked for him.

I took a few deep breaths to center myself and gave myself a stern warning to be professional and then cleared my throat quietly.  It was very fortunate that I’d had time to compose myself and school my expression because when Dante looked up and our eyes met for the first time I felt a jolt of energy travel through my body like a very strong static electric charge. 

I felt it everywhere, from the top of my head to my toes, and most shockingly at my core, which clenched in response.   It took everything I had not to swoon or blush, but somehow I did it.

He raised an eyebrow at me, assessing me quizzically for a moment, seemingly waiting for something.  I stepped forward and offered my hand.  “Mr. Hart, I’m Sabrina Tyler.  I’m assistant try out number eight.”

He chuckled at the audacity of that statement while I smiled brightly at him as he too
k my hand in a firm handshake.
When our hands connected, the insides of my sex tingled and clenched again.  It was as if the touch of his skin was sending a direct message in to my erogenous zones.  It took a great deal of effort not to gasp, but I managed it. 

Dante stared in to my eyes for a moment and then smiled.  His smile was so perfect I had the thought that it likely caused grown women to weep.  Instead of letting him know he was turning my body to
Jell-O
, I stood straighter and maintained eye contact and a professional smile.

Smiling at me he said, “Miss Tyler, a pleasure to meet you.  I suddenly feel very hopeful about trying out assistant number eight.”  I raised an eyebrow at him, cocking my head to the side and laughing.

Dante gestured to a chair in front of his desk and I took a seat.  We spent the next forty minutes talking and going over job duties and expectations.  I was surprised at how friendly he was, considering how quickly all of the other temporary assistants had defected, claiming that he was too difficult to work for. 

Dante seemed fine to me, pleasant even.  He told me later that I was the first of the assistants not to stutter, stammer or flirt my way through the interview with him. I understand exactly what they were reacting to. I just happened to be lucky enough to have a few moments to school my reaction. 

My week as his temporary assistant turned in to a month.  After the month, I was offered the job full time.  The salary was triple what I’d been making as a junior assistant, and the benefits were out of this world.  It also included a top of the line company car every two years.  I was delighted to take the job. 

At the conclusion of my first week as his official Executive Assistant, Dante had taken my sister Brooke and I out to dinner to celebrate my promotion.  We’d had so much fun that it became a regular occurrence, and a few weeks later Dante brought his brother and twin sisters along.

I loved them all right away.  His brother Damien is twenty-six and a total joker.  Dominique and Delilah are twenty-one year old twins, and beautiful as they are, they could not be nicer girls.  They have an honorary fifth sibling, Spencer Cross, who is Damien’s best friend.  He and Damien are quite the dynamic duo.