Flawed (Imperfectly Perfect Book 1)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Thank You

  About the author

  Flawed

  An Imperfectly Perfect Novel

  LYM CRUZ

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 LYM CRUZ

  All rights reserved.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resembles to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental or has been used in a fictional manner.

  Dedication

  This one is dedicated to every, single reader.

  Thank you for making my dream come true.

  Chapter 1

  Andrew

  Sighing, I pulled into High Bluff Drive and parked in my reserved spot. I buttoned my suit jacket then crossed to the large building thinking of the long day ahead of me.

  As I stepped into Malcolm & Bale LLP, I caught a glimpse of the glimmering company sign high above the front entrance. My grandfather and his friend, Luke Bale, founded this law firm over eighty years ago. After his passing, my father and his current partner took over. They preserved the original structure of the building whilst keeping up with modern architecture, fitting into the surroundings of Del Mar Heights.

  Dalia, a tiny brunette in her mid-thirties, sat behind the granite reception desk that took up most of the space shared with two black couches and an ottoman sitting atop a gray rug. She looked up as I entered.

  “Good morning, Andrew,” Dalia said, her lips shaped into the heartfelt smile I’d grown accustomed to seeing every morning.

  Returning her smile I nodded, heading down the hallway with offices to my right and left. Silver and black frames adorned the white walls, the pictures in the frames told the story of Malcolm & Bale from the day it opened until the present day.

  I reached my office. On the dark wood hung a nameplate Andrew Malcolm – Family Lawyer. I pushed the door open then closed it behind me.

  There were seven family attorneys at the firm, myself excluded. I was the youngest and with the least experience.

  The job was an agony.

  Most of the time I pushed clients who landed on my desk to one of the seven. No one complained—at least not to my face. It was my father’s company and eventually, it would be mine.

  On my desk lay a pile of prenups I had to go over—all of them similar: a well-heeled man, marrying a much younger woman, wants to make sure that in the event of a divorce she gets as little as possible. I could never understand why people got married if they’re unable to trust the person they’re marrying with their assets. I dropped my briefcase next to the papers and strolled out of the office towards the conference room.

  The firm was hosting a seminar for law students on Driving Under the Influence: How to defend a DUI client.

  Gently, I pushed the door open and settled in a chair at the last row. The room was packed with young, and some not so young, faces but mostly I saw the back of their heads.

  Mr. Sam Bale, the co-managing partner of the firm, stood behind a transparent podium in a black suit addressing the crowd. He spoke effortlessly and was a natural born mentor. Bale’s green eyes sparkled and it mesmerized me how, at the age of sixty, he still had a full head of thick brown hair—not a single strand of grey.

  “The strength is the truth. Your truth. Focus on the science, the Breathalyzer, the cop, the human body,” Mr. Bale said, “focus on the facts. It is the only way to find weaknesses in the prosecution’s case and always will be. But it requires every one of you to educate yourselves. Learn about physiology, a bit about biophysics and biochemistry. You have to learn about infrared spectroscopy. I know you all went to law school because you did poorly in Science, Math, and so on in college and I understand that.”

  A roar of laughter erupted. Mr. Bale waited for them to settle before continuing, “You have to put yourself in a position where you’re the only person in that court who understands what goes into a field sobriety test or a blood test. I guarantee you the prosecution might not, the judge will not, and the police officer darn sure will not. You have to convince them the fault is in the Science, or in the lack of evidence.”

  A male student in a black shirt raised his hand interrupting Mr. Bale who nodded, allowing him to convey his question.

  “What if it’s a first-time offender that could suffer harsh consequences due to a DUI conviction? For example, job loss and the person in question is the sole family provider. Could that be an argument to get the case dismissed?”

  Mr. Bale shook his head. “Unlikely, Mr. …”

  “Alvin.” He cleared his throat and sat up straight, pushing his shoulders back. “Darnel Alvin, Sir.”

  “Mr. Alvin, those are collateral consequences. You could take that route but it’s very unlikely to get sympathy from the District Attorney. If the offender knew that his family would starve then why drink and drive in the first place?”

  Then the movement of a head next to Darnel caught my attention. It was a girl. She inclined towards him and whispered something in his ear. I could only see a partial side of her face; her huge curly hair was obstructing my view. Her hand reached up and gripped his shoulder. She laughed at something Darnel said to her then he pulled away slightly, allowing me a better look at her.

  “The solution to this in 99.9% of the time is showing an error of proof,” Mr. Bale continued, “Perhaps the arresting police officer lacks credibility, the crime lab who tested the blood made mistakes, or the Breathalyzer was not probably maintained …”

  Mr. Bale went on, however, I blocked him out thereon. Shifting in my seat, I tried to get a full take of her. She was five rows ahead and her damn hair…

  I glanced at my wristwatch every minute but it did nothing to fast forward time. On the contrary, time was crawling by. Uneasy, I tapped my foot maintaining my eyes on her for the rest of the hour.

  Finally, Mr. Bale announced the end of the seminar. A few students rushed to him as he stepped off the podium bombarding him with questions and the rest scattered around the room. I pushed to my feet, following her movements with my eyes. She then turned and smiled while speaking to anoth
er girl in the row behind.

  Right then, I froze.

  My body numbed with recognition. I blinked a few times to make sure I was seeing right and I was.

  It was her. It had to be her.

  She was still beautiful, just more of a woman now. Her curly hair, dark brown from the roots, lightening gradually to a honey shade at the ends, brushed over her shoulders. It was substantially shorter from what I recalled. Almond-shaped, brown eyes and full pink lips. The white skirt she had on reached up to her stomach with a silk florid top tucked inside showcasing her amazing hourglass frame. And her satiny café au lait skin was unlike any other I’d ever seen.

  I swallowed, as everything around me faded to nothing. I muted the giggles, the chatter, focusing solemnly on her and the sound of blood rushing to my ears. I had to force myself to breathe and recompose.

  I never expected to see this girl again, especially not here. The memories of the only night I saw her prior to today have stuck with me for the past six years. Six years, and I could picture that night with crystal precision. I suspected that she was underage then, and there was no way the girl in front of me now was twenty-four or older.

  Steering past the swarm of students, I made it to the row where she was only to be interrupted by Darnel.

  “Hey, you’re Malcolm junior,” he said, thrusting his hand. I shook it. “I’m Darnel Alvin. It’s an honor to meet you. Your father is a legend.” I offered a close-lipped smile attempting to step aside, but he blocked me and stood between me and her. “I applied for an internship here; this is the best law firm in San Diego.”

  “I’m sure Human Resources is looking into that,” I said, noticing the aloofness in my voice. I could hear him and understand what he was saying but my mind was elsewhere. “And if you’re a viable candidate, you will be offered a position.”

  “Yes of course, but to have the Malcolm and Bale name attached to my CV…”

  Ignoring him, I gazed past his shoulder. She was bent forward, fiddling with her bag that was on top of the chair. She zipped it, hoisted herself up straight and when she spun our gaze met; her eyes grew wide and she paled instantly.

  Darnel stopped talking the moment he realized I wasn’t paying attention. He looked over his shoulder, vacillating between the two of us.

  Silence stretched and with each passing second my heart increased its beat.

  Darnel cleared his throat. “Mr. Malcolm this is my friend Melissa A—”

  “I’m Melissa.” She cut him off curtly. Her accent was unmistakable. It held a light, Latin intonation.

  Melissa. At last, I had a name to put to the face.

  “Andrew Malcolm,” I said.

  She parted her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her lower lip trembled, and then she bowed her head.

  Darnel realized that she wasn’t going to add anything else, so he resumed pleading his case. “As I was saying, Mr. Malcolm, I believe that I will make a great lawyer and to work here would be an amazing experience—”

  “Please call me Andrew.” I knew where he was going so I cut him short. “Before you go, leave your details with Dalia at the reception. I’ll make sure to personally look at your application.”

  Glowing with excitement, he shook Melissa’s shoulder. “I knew today would be promising.”

  Could I have been mistaken? My eyes ran over her once more.

  No, fucking way. It is her.

  Chapter 2

  Melissa

  I stared at Andrew Malcolm as he stared right back. His expression shuttered for a moment as if he was taking me in. His eyes glided over my profile slowly and I felt bare. It was as if he could read into the depths of my damaged soul. From the corner of my eyes, I peeked at the wooden door and thought about leaving but the familiarity of his eyes drew me to him. Light, caramel brown like the ones in my dreams.

  Could it be him? Please don’t let it be him.

  He was similar to the ghost of the man I’d conjured up over the years. If Andrew Malcolm was, indeed, the stranger from my ill-defined memories then he’d grown. He was taller. Wavy dark hair fell over his forehead, framing his bold bone structure and square jaw. The black suit and crisp white shirt were tailored to fit, accentuating his broad shoulders and long legs.

  I sucked in a shaky breath when Andrew attempted to step closer to me. Darnel didn’t let him though; he was trying to impress Andrew at all cost.

  “I’m hardworking and I know the entire constitution by heart,” Darnel said. Even I didn’t believe that. No one knows the constitution by heart.

  “I’m sure you do,” Andrew’s answer was absent-minded. His focus was on me, watching me with keen interest. “Melissa, did you also apply for an internship?”

  My name resonated out of his mouth in a melodic form, triggering a stomach quiver that swam up my chest, blocking my throat and prevented my lips from forming a response. I was relieved when Darnel spoke on my behalf, “No, she came to keep me company. She’s an MBA student.”

  “Hm.” Andrew’s mouth quirked up to the side.

  “Once again, thank you for listening to me and personally looking at my application.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Andrew offered his hand first to Darnel and he eagerly shook it.

  Darnel then stepped aside to let Andrew offer his hand to me. His sun-kissed hand hung waiting. My own were shaking, unwilling to accommodate the command my brain had given it. It took more effort than normally required to place my hand into his. Andrew tightened his sturdy, but soft, grip on my palm and I swear I felt a jolt of electricity zing through my body. I almost couldn’t breathe. My brain was fuzzy, heat clothed me, causing my hands to grow damp.

  Andrew looked down at our linked hands and slightly narrowed his eyes. A tiny wrinkle formed between his brows. Had he felt it too?

  A web of scrambled recollections flooded my brain, the images were more vivid than ever. I wasn’t sure which were real and which weren’t. Or if any were valid at all. I wanted to remove my hand from Andrew’s, but the energy between us thickened to a nearly palpable pull, tugging all the muscles inside me.

  This had to be the longest handshake in the history of handshakes. With all the strength in me, I jerked my hand away and broke eye contact.

  “I do hope you don’t end up being the best I’ll never have,” Andrew said to Darnel but the message was for me. “Here at the firm… that is.”

  All the blood drained from my face. It was him. The best you’ll never have … I used those words often back then. Darnell forced a laugh, he seemed confused by Andrew’s statement but tried to not let it show.

  At that point not only my hands trembled, but my entire body shook. My heart constricted into a painful knot as a buzz of adrenaline kicked in. I needed to get out of there. And fast.

  “I have to go,” I muttered, reaching for my bag and rushed towards the door. On my way, I bumped into a few students who wouldn’t move out of the way.

  “Hey! Where are you going?” Darnel shouted after me. I heard footsteps—not sure whose—and I didn’t bother to look back. “Melissa, wait!”

  I didn’t stop.

  Increasing my pace, I jogged out of the conference room, down the hall, past reception, out the glass door, and down a stone path leading to the sidewalk.

  The man in my dreams was not fictional, he existed and I had touched him. I glanced back and it was him chasing me, quickly closing in on me. Judging from his physique and long legs, I knew I couldn’t outrun him but that didn’t stop me from trying.

  The sidewalk was empty and the four-lane road had a light traffic-flow. The scorching heat of the California sun shone brightly, taking a toll on me. Sweat beaded down my forehead and neck. I looked back again and saw that Andrew was at my heel. Far behind him was Darnel, he was heavy on his feet.

  In an attempt to allow better movement, I raised my skirt above my knees, taking a sharp left turn at the four-way intersection, heading down Del Mar Heights Road.

  “Melis
sa,” Andrew shouted, his voice muffled over the sounds of traffic, “stop, please!”

  My lungs ached and I was slowing down but the adrenaline kept me going.

  Horns blared as a fancy red convertible attempted to speed through traffic. The sound was extremely close, as if the car was coming towards me. I whipped my head to the right in the direction of the noise and my heel got caught in a pothole. I lost balance and fumbled forward. Instinctively, I protected my face as I descended crashing against the pavement. The adrenaline rush was surpassed by excruciating pain.

  Short of breath, I cringed and sucked air between my clenched teeth, registering the shooting ache in my ankle and the cut on my elbow. My knees were scraped up as well, but the pain was bearable, unlike my ankle.

  Andrew came to a halt and crouched in front of me. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pants pocket and wrapped it around my bleeding elbow.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Andrew asked, drawing in deep, heavy breaths.

  I shoved him away, almost causing him to fall. Promptly, he braced the fall with his hand and stood to his full length. Unsteady on my feet, I tried to stand, applying as little pressure as possible on my ankle, only to lose my balance, heading for another fall.

  My ankle buckled, shooting streams of agony up my leg as the pavement drew closer to my face. I closed my eyes, bracing for impact when iron bands wrapped around me and pulled me into a brick wall. Andrew held me tight against his chest. His heart was racing just as fast as mine. I inhaled, taking in his scent. He smelled the same, a delightful musky scent.

  “Are you okay?” he said, clasping both his arms around me, holding me like I imagined he did that night. “Why were you running?”

  I opened my eyes to meet his. When our eyes met… time wound backward. The two of us were imprisoned in a nexus of flashbacks as the past unearthed before us, alive and intact.

  The club.

  The trunk of his car.

  The hotel.

  The photographs.

  I blinked away, cutting the connection.