by kj lewis
“I think we should go home.”
“And I think we should dance,” Sam challenges, already on her way to the steps leading down.
Charlotte mumbles to Pierce, “I might need to borrow your security. Let’s go get our girl, Gracie.” She sets the beer down and stands.
“Let her dance. Might do her some good to blow off some steam,” Quade says, tipping his beer back.
“You don’t understand. Sam hasn’t been drunk since the—”
“Grace.” It’s a warning and Charlotte’s glare shuts her up.
“Thanks for the night fellas,” Grace says, extending a fake smile while standing. She and Charlotte trot down the stairs, and Pierce gives a nod to his security to follow them down. We watch men levitate their attention as the girls near the bottom step. Zoe has abandoned her admirer and is focused solely on Sam. By the time the other two arrive, Zoe appears grateful for the backup. The three women surround Sam, who is dancing without a care in the world, but it’s clear an argument is brewing. The majority wins and I watch them escort Sam off the floor.
“Is your car out front?” Pierce asks.
“Yep.” I already know where he’s headed.
“I’ll give the women a ride home,” I concede, sounding more put out than I am.
I text my driver that I’m ready as I’m ushered out of the club into the night air. Hush’s security has Jake on his stomach flat on the ground.
“What happened?” I ask the floor manager escorting me. He has a wire attached to an earpiece coming out of his collar.
“The gentleman apparently hit a woman.”
My eyes immediately jump up looking for Sam, wavering slightly when I see her. She’s alright.
“You’ll take care of him?” I ask.
“We won’t kill him, but he won’t raise his hand to a woman again,” he growls. Jake is being lifted off the ground, his shirt splotched red from the blood running out of his nose.
“I think he’s learned his lesson. Turn him loose.” He nods and opens my door. I turn and call for Samantha.
“In. Now,” I direct when her sweet face falls on mine.
I expect some pushback for my terseness, but she doesn’t give any, nor does she meet my eyes. She makes sure her friends are all safely inside the limo before sliding onto the back seat. I climb in next to her and close the door. No one speaks for several minutes. I take an inventory, and no one appears injured.
“Who did he hit?” I ask, not seeing any physical evidence on the women.
“No one,” Sam rolls her eyes. “He’s an asshole, but he wasn’t going to hit anyone. He just lunged out of anger.”
“Don’t you fucking defend that asswipe,” Zoe bites.
“I’m not. Just stating the facts,” Sam responds, never shifting her gaze from the window. Her legs are crossed, and sliding across the seat has caused her dress to slip up her legs. Lacy boy shorts peek out from under her hem. “There was no reason to leave. I’m fine.”
“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have downed three shots like they were water before reaching for a beer.”
“She did what?” Zoe asks Grace. “You haven’t done that since—”
“Zoe,” Grace interrupts softly.
Traffic is heavy but the air in the limo is heavier. None of the women speak, but they each watch Sam like she might jump out at any minute. Her phone dings and by the time she fishes it out of her purse, it sounds like a pinball machine. She thumbs through the text messages before sliding her phone into her purse.
“Please tell me you are not going to respond to those,” Zoe says rather harshly.
Sam doesn’t answer, but she momentarily glances in her direction before turning her attention back to the window.
“Sam?”
“She was pretty. Did you get her number?” Sam asks instead.
“She was hot, and no, I didn’t. I was out with my girls, not trolling for pussy.”
“Could you be anymore vile?” Charlotte pushes Zoe’s shoulder.
“Yes. She could be, and please don’t say things like that in front of my boss,” Sam motions towards me. We pull up to the curb and I climb out first followed by Sam and the group.
Zoe flirts with my porter pulling his tie out of his waistcoat and winking at him. I make apologies for her, and, once we’re inside the lift, ask them to behave in a manner befitting of the building. There are a couple of giggles and a comment I’m not able to make out before laughter spreads through the car. I’m the only one not in on the joke.
The door pings open, and by the time they file out of the car, shoes are in their hands, and a couple of them have begun to unfasten their attire.
Twenty minutes later, after I’ve showered the club off of me, I’m in the kitchen grabbing a slice of pizza when Charlotte appears beside me with a bottle of tequila in her hand.
“Mind if we borrow some glasses? We still need to unpack.”
I hand her three glasses.
“One more, please.” She reaches out and I hand her one more.
“I thought you said Sam doesn’t drink?” I hear myself asking despite my mind telling my mouth to shut it. It’s none of my business. Or concern.
“I said she doesn’t drink out. She’ll drink if she’s home or at one of our homes for the night. Goodnight.” She effectively ends the conversation.
I watch as she leaves the kitchen. It’s weird being in the house without the girls. This is the first night they’ve slept away since they moved in. I would love to fall into bed and sleep into oblivion, but I have a shit ton of work to catch up on.
The apartment is set up like a starburst. The foyer is the center. Half of the star is the living areas. The other half is a series of wings all branching off of the center. One is the master wing. The other is the kids’ wing with a guest suite. The last is the nanny’s quarters, home gym, and my office.
The main door to Sam’s area is still open when I walk past. The girls are in their pajamas, pouring healthy glasses of tequila, when Sam walks out of her bedroom. She’s wearing a shirt that’s longer than the dress she had on earlier.
“You’re welcome to use the guestrooms if you need to,” I offer on the way to my office.
“Thanks, but we’re use to sharing a bed. If we get too loud, please let me know.” I don’t acknowledge that I heard her, instead closing my office door behind me.
I work until exhaustion takes over, and I know if I don’t sleep I’ll regret it tomorrow. My day is slammed with meetings that will be difficult enough to stay awake in without the added effect of tiredness.
The lights in Sam’s place are still on when I look at my watch. Three a.m. I reach in to close the door when I see the bottle of tequila is now nearly empty. I step into her quarters. Shit. Apparently, all that’s needed is a little pent up anger and some tequila and these girls can get it done.
The nanny’s quarters are quaint: a living area, small kitchen with an island, and a bedroom with an en-suite bath. Like the rest of the place, there are floor to ceiling windows in every space.
Sam and her girls have all the boxes unpacked and everything is already in its place. For the first time, this space feels lived in.
The green couch I didn’t approve is against the wall to the bedroom with a large colorful painting over it. There’s something comforting and intriguing about the movement in the painting. Everywhere you look there’s color. But instead of looking like a crayon box threw up in here, it’s tasteful and looks like it could be a shoot for a magazine. There’s a stack of frames in the corner that no doubt still need a home.
The door to her bedroom is open, with all four intertwined and passed out on her queen mattress. Each with a hand on Sam in some fashion or another, as if to comfort her in her sleep. I observe each of them. They look like the kind of girls we would have wanted to hang with when we were in uni. The kind of girls other guys would have envied you for.
I hit the switch, sending the rooms into darkness before closing
the main door behind me.
The sun rises before I’m ready. I swear the daylight comes sooner and sooner. I stretch my long body under the covers, begrudgingly pulling myself out of bed. You would think I was the one that drank a fifth of tequila.
A shower does nothing to calm my surly attitude and I’m not the best to be around by the time I make it to the kitchen for coffee. Finn and the girls have made their way back up to my apartment, and even though Sam’s crew are all in sunnies, they appear to be functioning. The only thing that keeps me from kicking out these women surrounding my kitchen bar is the fact that coffee and breakfast are waiting for me.
“Don’t you all have jobs, or do you live off the common people?” I snap.
“We’re on our way home, boss man. Don’t get your knickers in a wad,” Zoe says, picking up a bagel as she stands to leave. “Zinnie and Poppy, I’ll be back next week to talk designs. Can’t wait to see what you all have in mind.” Zinnie and Poppy beam back at her with excitement. “I told Mark to expect your call. He has a couple of guys who have room in their schedule to help with minor construction.”
“Thanks Zoe,” Sam says, picking up her dish and taking it to the kitchen. “Girls, get dressed. We have some shopping to do. Big girls, get to work.” She kisses the top of their heads and they say their good-byes on the way to collect their things.
“If you must have overnight guests, I would appreciate it if you feed them in your own space.”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store. I won’t let it happen again,” Sam answers, taking it all in stride. Nothing gets under her skin apparently. Even being passed over for a pin-up Barbie that was probably more plastic than human.
“I would also appreciate you keeping nights like last night to a minimum. This isn’t a dormitory.” God, I’m a daft prick, but I must infuse some space between us. I need my life with the girls to be separate from my work life and my life with the fellas. “Also, the girls will be with their grandparents this weekend. It was scheduled before you were on staff.”
“Alright. That will allow me to get situated before having the girls full time next week. Anything else?” There’s an edge to the question, but, still, she doesn’t push back as one would expect.
“Not at the moment, you’re dismissed,” I reply, not looking up. I don’t want to see that scowl that is almost certain to be on Finn’s face. I’m met with silence and when I do finally glance up, Finn is standing to leave.
“We have a meeting in ten minutes,” he says with his back to me, making his way to the stairs. He leaves without waiting for me. Something he never does.
As expected, the morning meetings are difficult at best on the amount of sleep I’ve had, but for once, I am caught up. Maria rings to tell me my lunch meeting is being held in our private conference room. The guys are here for our monthly meeting. Part of being in charge of Everett’s estate is managing the business he owned.
“Are we sure this is what is best for the girls?” Colin asks, looking at stats in front of him before taking a bite of his lunch.
“No, I’m not. But it’s an option that needs to be explored,” I answer.
“When are you going to be sure?” Quade asks, closing his folder, his steak still untouched.
“Quade,” Pierce says.
“Don’t ‘Quade’ me. It needs to be said. Business is business. It’s not personal. We all know that. Once you make it personal, mistakes happen. We need to look at this like it’s a business we own and take the girls out of the equation.”
“It’s not that simple,” Colin says.
“But it is. Financially, the girls are set for life, with or without Everett’s business. So, remove them from the equation. Four of the best business minds are sitting around this table, and you mean to tell me that we don’t know if this business is viable nearly five months after we’ve taken over?”
“I think the girls aren’t what’s mucking up your equation,” Finn offers gently. He doesn’t have a say in the business but he’s joined us for lunch nonetheless. “It’s Everett. He’s the one you need to remove.”
The weight of his statement sucks the oxygen out of the room, and the air sits heavy around us.
“Meet with Reid Beckett,” Pierce says. “He buys businesses that are in jeopardy. He will have a perspective we can leverage right now.”
Colin sorts through a few more stats. “The business I’m looking at is not in jeopardy.”
“No, but it will be,” I answer. “We don’t have the time to give it the attention it needs. As far as I know, none of us have the interest to own it. The girls are too young to know if they would want to when they graduate from uni, which is six years for Zinnia, sixteen for Poppy. We either need to fill the CEO position or look at selling.”
“Fine. Talk to Beckett. Anything else?”
“No. I’m meeting with Pierce to set up guardianship of the girls if anything were to happen to me.”
“It won’t, but that’s smart,” Colin says.
“I think we’ve all learned that none of us are guaranteed a tomorrow.”
“It won’t,” he says firmer. “I can’t lose another brother.”
“Who are you making the guardian?” Quade asks. “Please tell me it’s not Jenny’s parents.”
“What is wrong with her parents? They love the girls.”
“I just think they are getting older, and I don’t know if they are the wisest choice.”
“What would you have me do, Quade? Do you want the girls?”
“I’d take them if it meant they wouldn’t have to go through another change again. I just think they are too old.”
“Noted.”
“Anything else?” Pierce asks, gauging the temperatures in the room.
“One more thing.” I look around. “Samantha is their nanny. Not your uni date or someone to go clubbing with. I’d ask that you don’t blur the lines. It’s hard enough to keep the girls separate from everything else without you all bringing Sam into our day to day.”
“Have you ever thought that keeping the girls separate isn’t working?” Quade pushes.
“Quade,” Finn warns. He might agree with Quade, but he’s too protective to hear the edge in Quade’s voice and not bristle.
“I’m just saying, that sounds more like Camilla talking than you.”
“Lay off Camilla. She’s adjusting the best she can. This has turned her life upside down.”
“You don’t say?”
“Quade, just stop. I appreciate you caring, but you need to stop.”
“Fine.”
“I already asked Sam to be my date this weekend to the charity event, and she’s my friend, but I will try to understand the boundaries you are setting,” Finn replies. He doesn’t mean it, but he’s here to be on my side.
“Good. We’re all in agreement then,” I say, closing my folder and picking up my fork.
“Not even close,” Quade, Colin, and Pierce pledge in unison.
The girls made it to their grandparents without incident and were delighted to see them. There’s no chance I would admit it to anyone, but each time I watch them run into a big hug from Jenny’s parents, it crushes me a little. It’s another chink in the armor that has already been severely compromised by self-doubt.
Sam has been scarce all weekend, and I have seen very little of her other than the charity ball. The fact that that bothers me chaps my arse a little. Seeing as how Finn’s sexuality has never been a secret in the crowd we run with, there was no confusion when Sam escorted him to the event that they were there as friends only. Thankfully, he views Sam in the same manner a big brother would and easily thwarted the wayward advances thrown her way. And let me tell you, they were plentiful. I blame the bronze-colored dress that melted to her figure like she was a statue dipped in the molten metal.
I’ve never felt jealousy before. It didn’t matter who I was dating or what the situation was. I don’t like it. Graham Taylor of Taylor Enterpr
ises and I are engaged in a stealthy conversation, and while I have his focus, his arm is firmly planted around his wife. His hand splayed on her hip in a show of proprietary. When was the last time I felt possessive of Camilla? I do however understand what that feels like. And it has nothing to do with Camilla. Who, I might add, looks like she just stepped off the runway in a navy Dior dress. But she has a commercialized beauty; Sam’s beauty is more natural. And fuck me, everyone seems to be appreciating it tonight.
It is fortuitous that the Taylors are here tonight, so I took the opportunity to talk with him and his brother Adam about a venture Adam wants to propose to The Foundation, the Taylor’s philanthropic organization. Finn and I are on the board.
As Graham and Adam debate about some issue with the proposal, Finn walks up to introduce Samantha to Emme and Adam’s wife, Jules. I had forgotten—Jules is a fashion designer and Emme is her business partner. Apparently, I glean, they are the ones to blame for the leers Sam has been receiving. It appears the dress Finn purchased for her is a Redden James.
“Our maiden names,” Jules explains to Samantha who is gushing over Jules’ designs.
They chat about the upcoming Fashion Week in New York and the grueling schedule. Jules talks about her show and Samantha says she would love to bring the girls. For them to see women doing powerful things. She also mentions Zinnie has an interest in fashion design.
“Would it be too much to ask that we swing by sometime so Zinnie can get a glimpse of what really goes on behind the scenes?” she asks Jules.
“Since when has Zinnie been interested in fashion?” I bark louder than even I thought was necessary. Six pairs of eyes take me in and I hate that I see pity in them. Samantha smiles politely in an attempt to sidestep the awkwardness I’ve thrown like a wet blanket onto the conversation. But still, how does she know this after not even a total of forty-eight hours with Zinnie? I’ve been with her for five months and couldn’t tell you a single thing she is interested in other than her mobile.