He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Maybe I’ve changed? Maybe I realise it’s time I got to know my daughter better? I’m sure the courts would lend a sympathetic ear if I were to—’
‘No!’ Sam protested fiercely at the threat. ‘I won’t allow it. I won’t allow you anywhere near— We had a deal!’ she accused heatedly. ‘No divorce settlement for me in exchange for full custody of Daisy.’
‘And as I said to you on Saturday evening, there’s absolutely no reason why that can’t continue,’ he came back softly. ‘Once you’ve ditched Sterne and become my mistress, of course.’
Sam stared at him in complete horror, feeling as if her feet had been knocked from underneath her. ‘I won’t—I can’t!’
‘But you will,’ Malcolm insisted. ‘For Daisy’s sake, you know you will.’
Sam looked at him searchingly, once again able to see that cruelty in Malcolm’s eyes and in the harsh slashes beside his nose and mouth. She wanted Daisy to have nothing to do with this man. Being her daughter’s biological father didn’t make Malcolm any less the cruel and controlling man he had always been beneath that outward layer of social charm. There was no telling what damage Malcolm might do to Daisy emotionally if he were to obtain weekly visiting rights with her.
‘Why are you doing this, Malcolm?’ she prompted emotionally, knowing she was on the verge of tears. And she really didn’t want to give Malcolm the satisfaction of reducing her to tears, when he must already be aware, by the hold he had of her wrist, how badly she was shaking. ‘Why?’
‘Obviously because I’ve decided that I want you back in my bed.’ He shrugged.
Sam stared at him dazedly. ‘I don’t love you, Malcolm. I don’t even like you!’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’ He looked at her pityingly. ‘The thing is, Sam, I really don’t like the idea of you belonging to any other man but me. I realised when I saw you again the other night that what’s mine should stay mine.’
‘I don’t belong to anyone, Malcolm.’
‘Not for the past three years you haven’t, no.’ Malcolm confirmed that he really had had her investigated. ‘And you aren’t going to belong to anyone else now, either. So I suggest that you and Daisy move out of Sterne’s apartment as soon as you’ve told him your little affair is over. Preferably before the end of the week,’ Malcolm bit out.
Sam frowned. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘That’s a pity.’ His tone was deceptively mild.
And Sam wasn’t deceived for a moment. ‘You don’t understand,’ she came back agitatedly. ‘I don’t live with Xander Sterne, I work for him. As his carer,’ she added impatiently as Malcolm eyed her sceptically. ‘He was involved in a car accident, and now needs help to—to—’ Somehow Sam didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Malcolm that one of the things she did for Xander was to help him in and out of the shower! ‘I cook for him and help him when necessary,’ she substituted.
Talking of which, it was almost time for her to drive Xander to his physiotherapy session as Paul had the day off.
‘And those duties include you sleeping with him too?’
‘You’re wrong!’ Embarrassed colour heated her cheeks as she recalled how close she had come to doing exactly that on Saturday night.
A guilty blush which caused Malcolm’s eyes to narrow dangerously. ‘Even if what you say is true, you aren’t seriously expecting me to believe that Xander Sterne has a beautiful woman living in his apartment with him, but that he hasn’t slept with her yet?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you,’ Sam maintained stubbornly.
‘And there’s no yet about it,’ she added firmly. ‘I’m only staying at his apartment for a couple of weeks,’ she insisted. ‘Just until his brother returns from his honeymoon. You were at the wedding on Saturday, too, so you know I’m telling the truth.’
‘About Darius being away on his honeymoon, at least, yes.’ He nodded. ‘If what you say is true—’
‘It is.’
‘Then it won’t be difficult to find someone else to take care of him while his brother is away so that you can move out in the next few days.’
Not difficult at all, which was why Sam was so grateful to have this job at all; the Sterne family could have employed anyone to care for Xander, but they had chosen her, Andy had chosen her.
‘I can’t do that,’ she insisted, knowing she couldn’t let Andy down, or forget the fact that the money she earned these two weeks would pay her bills.
Malcolm now eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You’ve changed, Sam; once upon a time you wouldn’t have dreamt of answering me back.’
‘Once upon a time I was stupid enough to think myself in love with you, too!’ she replied heatedly, knowing she shouldn’t antagonise Malcolm in the circumstances, but totally unable to stop herself from retaliating to that last jibe.
His mouth twisted into the semblance of a smile. ‘But not any longer.’
‘That’s one of the reasons we’re divorced, remember?’ Sam eyed him warily.
‘I remember only too well.’ Malcolm’s mouth thinned. ‘I have never liked failure, Sam. And I definitely consider my marriage to you to be in that category.’
She gave a pained frown. ‘And whose fault was that? If you had told me you didn’t want children then I would never have married you in the first place.’ Having long been an orphan, Sam had always wanted children of her own. She hadn’t just wanted children, she had ached for a family of her own, to love and care for, and to be loved and cared for in return. Instead she had got Malcolm.
And Daisy...
Daisy made up for all the pain, all the disillusionment of those unhappy years of being married to a man as cold and controlling as her ex-husband.
She would do anything to protect Daisy.
Anything at all.
‘I want you back in my bed, Sam, and I think you know me well enough to know that I’ll use any means at my disposal to achieve that,’ Malcolm informed her confidently.
Almost as if he had been able to read her thoughts.
And maybe he had. Malcolm already knew that Daisy was Sam’s weak spot, her Achilles heel. And now he was once again using that weakness to his advantage, in an effort to force her into resuming a relationship with him. A relationship that horrified Sam so much she felt physically ill.
‘No,’ she answered him woodenly.
He arched mocking brows. ‘No?’
‘No,’ she repeated firmly.
She had thought about this all weekend, finally accepting that she couldn’t allow herself to be browbeaten by Malcolm again, to be forced into becoming his mistress. She just couldn’t!
There had to be some other way. Some way to stop his blackmail once and for all. There just had to be.
‘And if I insist?’
Sam was breathing hard, her emotions in turmoil. But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, give in to Malcolm’s blackmail. Because she knew that once it started it would never stop. Until one day she would wake up and find herself once again imprisoned, totally entrapped.
She drew herself up determinedly. ‘You can insist all you like, Malcolm, but my answer will still be no.’
He shrugged, his fingers once again tightening painfully about her wrist. ‘Obviously you would rather the two of us talked through our lawyers.’
‘I would rather—’ She broke off, her eyes stinging with unshed tears, knowing she had to get away, before she gave Malcolm the satisfaction of seeing those tears fall. ‘I have nothing more to say to you, Malcolm. And I have to go now,’ she added before he could speak again. ‘I have to drive Mr Sterne to his physio appointment.’
‘Have dinner with me this evening, Sam, and we can discuss this further then.’
Sam repressed a shiver of fear. ‘I’m not going to do this, Malco
lm,’ she told him shakily. ‘Not dinner this evening, not any of it.’
He chuckled softly. ‘Give it time, Sam, and you’ll do exactly as I want,’ he drawled confidently. ‘You have until the end of the week,’ he added coldly. ‘After which I’m calling my lawyer.’
Sam wrenched her wrist painfully from his grasp before opening the car door and climbing quickly out onto the pavement, slamming the door closed behind her, before turning on her heel and walking off in the direction of Xander’s apartment.
All the time aware that her wrist ached abominably, her knees were knocking together, and her body was shaking in complete awareness of the fact that Malcolm had just demanded that she become his mistress by threatening Daisy.
A demand, despite her defiance of him, that placed her as the fly to Malcolm’s spider...
* * *
Xander had been aware that there was something seriously wrong with Samantha from the moment she’d returned from walking Daisy to school earlier that morning. Her face was pale, her eyes almost feverish, and she was totally distracted as she went off to change into a red long-sleeved shirt before silently driving him to his physio appointment. The return journey had been made just as quietly.
Xander was thoroughly worried by her uncharacteristic silence by the time they arrived back at his apartment just before one o’clock, and he now sat at the breakfast bar watching her as she moved about the kitchen preparing lunch. ‘Are you still angry with me for what happened on Saturday evening?’ he finally prompted gruffly.
Events that had resulted in him spending two sleepless nights unable to banish thoughts of Samantha, who was lying in her own bed just a short distance down the hallway. He had wondered if she was also awake and thinking of him.
Somehow Xander doubted that very much.
Samantha had been so cool towards him on Sunday, so businesslike in her dealings with him today, even when helping him in and out of the shower this morning. An occasion when he had been unable to hide the arousal her touch incited in him. He might as well have been a block of wood for all the notice Samantha had taken of that!
And that rankled.
This whole indifference thing Samantha now had going towards him rankled!
Okay, so he had read the signs wrong on Saturday evening, had realised almost immediately that he should have offered her comfort, with his arms and words, rather than kissing her. He was also aware he wasn’t feeling his best right now. His leg was still aching badly from all the extra activity on Saturday; the wedding, Daisy throwing herself at him, kissing Samantha. But he had never had a woman react towards him with such indifference as Samantha had been doing these past two days and nights.
Maybe he was losing his touch?
And maybe Samantha would just rather forget those kisses had ever happened?
Wouldn’t that be a dent to his already bruised ego?
‘What?’ She turned to look at him blankly now, almost as if she had forgotten he was there for a moment, colour suffusing her cheeks as his words penetrated her thoughts. ‘Not in the least,’ she dismissed, her head now buried in the refrigerator. ‘I’d forgotten about it.’
Her sudden blush seemed to indicate that it really had been the last thing on her mind.
Oh, she hadn’t forgotten about it yesterday, had been very skittish towards him over breakfast, so much so that Xander had decided it would be better if the two of them avoided each other’s company for the rest of the day, especially in front of Daisy.
But here and now? Yes, Xander could well believe that this Samantha had completely forgotten about the two of them kissing on Saturday night. The question was, what had happened since yesterday—since breakfast this morning, in fact—to cause Samantha to be so distracted that she wasn’t even defending herself? It was very unlike her.
‘Do you want ham or cheese for your sandwich?’ she asked distractedly now.
‘Both,’ Xander answered her just as dismissively. ‘Samantha?’
‘In that case, your lunch is ready,’ she announced briskly.
Xander glanced down at the breakfast bar, his eyes narrowing as he saw that only one place had been laid. ‘Aren’t you eating too?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You only had coffee for breakfast.’
‘Are you spying on me, too?’ She glared at him accusingly. ‘Because if you are, I advise you to stop. Right now!’ She was trembling with anger.
‘Whoa, Samantha.’ Xander reached out with both arms to grasp her about the waist as she would have turned and marched angrily from the room, his leg giving a protesting jolt of pain as he did so. Xander ignored that pain as he instead looked down searchingly into Samantha’s face; her eyes still sparkled with that earlier temper, her cheeks were flushed with anger, her mouth—her mouth...!
Xander was breathing hard as he gazed down at that perfect, tempting bow, the bottom lip fuller than the top. These were the lips that had haunted him day and night these past two days. And right now those delicious lips were as red and plump as ripe berries, no doubt caused by that same flush of anger.
Why was Samantha so angry? It seemed completely out of context to their conversation.
‘What did you mean when you said too?’ Xander asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘Who else has been spying on you, Samantha?’ he prompted.
Sam’s anger left her as quickly as it had arisen as she realised her mistake. Xander was just too intelligent, too astute, not to have noted and questioned her earlier comment. Or to add two and two together and not to come up with the right answer. If not now, then at some later time.
Xander hadn’t recognised Malcolm on Saturday, and a part of Sam didn’t want Xander to know that she had once been married to a man like Malcolm Howard, let alone that he was now threatening her.
She trembled every time she thought of her earlier conversation with Malcolm—which had been often in the past few hours! She knew she couldn’t allow Malcolm to come even close to demanding visiting rights with Daisy.
Which meant what?
That she would have to telephone Malcolm and agree to have dinner with him this evening, at least?
Sam hated the thought of even doing that, let alone agreeing to Malcolm’s other demands.
But she knew Malcolm too well, knew how clever he was at pretence, how charming he could be, and how easily he would be able to fool a judge into believing he was totally contrite regarding his previous attitude towards his daughter, and that he now wanted the chance to become a father to her.
Daisy would be totally bewildered by suddenly having a father she had never known thrust into her life. Her daughter would be hurt and confused. Miserable. And Sam would be just as miserable, but also worried out of her mind on those occasions when Malcolm was allowed to take Daisy out. It simply couldn’t be allowed to happen.
She looked up at Xander. ‘Would you please release me?’
Xander looked down at her searchingly, totally unsettled by the look of pained resolve in her eyes. As if she had come to a decision she didn’t like. A decision she hated, if the grey tinge to her cheeks was any indication.
His mouth thinned. ‘Answer my question, Samantha.’
‘Release me now, Xander.’ She challenged him as she pulled out of his arms.
Leaving Xander with no choice but to reach out and grasp hold of the breakfast bar in an effort to stop himself from overbalancing and toppling over, at the same time as he reached out with the other hand to fold the length of his fingers about Samantha’s wrist to prevent her from moving any further away from him.
Samantha’s gasp of pain was the last reaction Xander was expecting to so light a physical touch. ‘What’s wrong?’ He scowled darkly as he lifted her arm and saw the bandage wrapped about her wrist, previously concealed beneath the long-sleeved red shirt she had
changed into after taking Daisy to school. ‘What happened to your wrist?’ he demanded. ‘Did you cut yourself? Sprain your wrist? Tell me how you did this, Samantha.’
‘Or what? Will you make me tell you, Xander?’ she added scornfully. ‘Refuse to release me until I do?’
All of the above, as far as Xander was concerned, because he was not allowing Samantha to leave this kitchen until he knew exactly what was going on with her. Because something most certainly was!
Except...
He could see by Samantha’s almost resigned expression that she was expecting him to bully her into giving him an answer.
Xander might be guilty of a lot of things—might now be living in fear of his temper allowing him to do even worse things—but bullying a woman, in any way, certainly wasn’t one of them.
He maintained a light hold on Samantha’s arm as his thoughts drifted back to this morning. She had seemed quiet but cheerful enough when she’d made them all breakfast. Her mood had only changed to one of complete introspection after she’d returned from taking Daisy to school. The same time that she had changed into the long-sleeved shirt.
Xander’s eyes narrowed purposefully as he lifted that wrist before folding back some of the elasticated bandage to reveal the multicoloured bruising beneath.
Samantha immediately attempted to snatch her wrist out of his grasp. ‘Don’t!’
‘Who did this?’ Xander demanded with icy intensity, a red tide of anger washing over him as he recognised the bruises about the delicacy of Samantha’s wrist as being in the pattern of fingerprints. A man’s larger fingerprints, if he wasn’t mistaken. ‘Who did this to you, Samantha?’ he demanded harshly.
Tears glistened in her eyes, her lashes blinking, and her bottom lip trembling as she attempted to prevent those tears from falling. ‘I caught it on—’
The Taming of Xander Sterne Page 9