by A. C. Arthur
Sam eased away from his touch because the conflict within her was too painful to endure.
“So are you,” she admitted.
He yanked his hand back quickly and stared down at her. “What are you talking about?”
Sam lifted her chin and swallowed once more, attempting to square her shoulders without causing too much pain.
“I heard what you said to my brothers. I know that this was all about the job. You were hired to kill someone and you did. You weren’t hired to sleep with me, so that’s over. Your job is done, so you can go now.”
Sam watched as realization hit him slowly. No, he hadn’t invested any emotion into what they were doing. It had all simply been his job. But she hadn’t been part of the job. Gary had told Roland and Kris his job was to kill someone and that was it. Once that was done he was leaving. So, Sam wanted him to leave. Without any more questions, without trying to figure out why he’d involved her on such a personal level in the first place. She needed him to go before the tears she’d sworn she wouldn’t shed broke free.
“I’ll go,” he said with a slight nod to her. “If that’s what you wish, I’ll do it.”
Sam could only nod. She feared speaking because tears were already filling her eyes, threatening to fall at any minute.
“Okay. I’ll go,” he said once more. “But if you need anything. If it’s a glass of water or help getting to the bathroom, call me. I’ll come. I promise.”
She didn’t want his promises. Not now.
Sam swallowed again and finally turned away from him. She could hear him leaving the room and it was just as well because that damn tear fell no matter how many times she’d told it not to. And then another one followed and another, until she was sobbing uncontrollably.
The fear she’d felt as Morty held her too close to that balcony railing and the memory of another bullet whizzing past her head, this time killing someone, clouded her thoughts. Yes, she cried for the fear and the close call she’d just faced, but Sam knew without a doubt that she also cried for Gary. For everything she’d begun to believe they could be, when she should have known better. She should have known that nobody would ever love the princess. Not the way she needed them to.
Chapter 15
Two weeks later
“I haven’t seen you here in a very long time.”
Sam turned at the sound of her father’s voice. Rafe stood in the doorway, his broad frame blocking the bright light from the hallway behind him. She had been sitting on the couch, legs crossed, staring at nothing in particular, but now she looked at the best man she’d ever known as he closed the door and moved toward her.
“Just felt like being in here today,” she said when he finally took a seat next to her.
Immediately her father reached out to hold her hand and Sam let that familiarity wash over her, praying it would provide solace.
“I used to come in here every day after she died,” Rafe told her.
“Really?”
She’d been so young at that point, and so distraught herself that memories of how her father had handled her mother’s death were nonexistent.
He nodded as he looked around the space that used to be Sam and her brothers’ playroom.
“I would sit in the chair over there,” he said, pointing to a high-backed chair that was pushed into a corner. “From there I could see every inch of the room. I could imagine her sitting on that window seat over there, with Kris leaning against her as she read to him. Then I could look over this way to the couch where she always sat on the floor and played with Roland and his train set. He loved trains when he was a boy.”
“I remember,” Sam said “I tell him all the time that’s when he was bitten by the traveling bug.”
They both chuckled.
“And you,” Rafe said, lifting her hand and dropping a quick kiss on the back. “Always at that little table over there having a tea party. Vivienne would sit facing the window and you would take the chair right next to her. You always sat next to her, no matter where we went or who was there, you were by her side. In the other two chairs there would be a doll or a stuffed animal, whichever you’d chosen to invite to your party that day.”
Sam continued to smile because as she looked at the table, she could see the same scene.
“I invited you one time,” she told him.
Rafe nodded, his lips spreading wide into a grin. “You did. It was my birthday. Two days before your fifth birthday and you told me that morning at breakfast that the tea party was my birthday present.”
Sam squeezed her father’s hand. He sounded like he enjoyed that memory.
“Sometimes I feel bad that I don’t remember a lot about her,” she admitted after they’d sat in silence for a minute or so. “I mean, I can see her standing in a group of people talking and smiling. I can hear her telling me how pretty a tea set was and how much she loved me.” She sighed heavily. “But that’s it.”
“That’s enough,” Rafe told her. “The last part about how much she loved you is more than enough for you to remember.”
“She loved you, too, you know,” Sam told him. “I can see it in all the pictures of the two of you. Especially the portrait at the museum. The one that Malayka wants taken down ASAP.”
It was Rafe’s turn to sigh. “Yes, she’s told me about that numerous times.”
“As a woman, I understand her position.” Even though Sam hated that she had to side with Malayka about anything. “But as a native of this island, as someone who has seen firsthand all the good that Mom did here, I feel like it would be a dishonor to her. Don’t you?”
She’d turned a little on the couch so that she could look directly at her father. He was still gazing at that table. Today he wore a black dress shirt and black slacks, which gave him a very domineering look. The lines across his forehead and the grim set of his mouth said he was stressed and Sam would give anything in the world to take that look away from him.
“Are you all right, Daddy?” she asked after another few minutes of silence.
He began nodding as he squeezed her hand this time. “It’s going to be all right,” he said and then turned his head to her. “I’m sorry these things are happening to you, to all of us. I don’t think I’ve been paying as much attention as I should have been.”
It was an admission Sam hadn’t expected to hear from her father. Rafe was a proud man. He knew his duty and executed it with a flawless kind of swagger that Sam knew many dignitaries envied. He was decisive yet thoughtful. Caring yet stern. Vocal yet contemplative. All things she’d always figured a person of power had to be.
“There’s a lot going on,” she conceded.
“Yes,” he replied. “A lot that I should have been looking more closely at from the start.”
“Are you talking about your relationship with Malayka?” A part of her hoped like hell he was reconsidering that one. Another part prayed that if he was, that consideration wasn’t the cause of the tormented expression on his face. Because as much as she disliked Malayka, she loved her father with every ounce of her being. If not being with the woman would hurt him in some way, Sam would have to suck it up and accept her. It wasn’t worth hurting her father.
“I’m speaking about everything that has been going on this year. And, yes, I do agree with you. Taking down that portrait of your mother and me in the museum would dishonor Vivienne’s legacy. I will not do that. Not to my children or my country.”
“Malayka isn’t going to be happy about that,” Sam told him, instead of smiling madly and kissing his cheek because she was so proud of her father for taking that stance.
“She’s not going to be happy about a few things, I suspect.”
“Do you really love her, Daddy? Is she the one you want to spend the rest of your life with? If she is, I’ll understand. I just know that you and
Mom had a wonderful bond, one that was noticeable even on canvas. I’d hate for you to settle for less.”
Rafe kissed the back of her hand again and this time his features softened as he looked at his daughter.
“I don’t want you settling for less, either,” he said.
Sam shrugged. “I have no illusions about what my life is. A long time ago I accepted that I might never have the same type of love you shared with Mom, and that’s okay. If I can’t have that, then I don’t want anything,” she said firmly, determined to believe her own words. Despite the pangs in her chest every night she lay down to sleep and every morning she woke after a night of explicit dreams.
“You’re strong and sensible,” Rafe told her. “Just like your mother.”
Sam smiled at him.
“But Vivienne would never close her eyes to what was staring her right in the face.”
“I agree,” she told him. “So you’re rethinking things between you and Malayka?”
His brow furrowed and then he smiled slowly. “No, Sammy-Girl, that’s not what I was referring to.”
“Oh?” Sam said, completely confused by his words. “Then I don’t understand.”
“I was afraid of that,” Rafe said. He took both her hands then, holding them between his own. “The thing about falling in love is that we usually don’t get to preselect the person we fall for.”
Sam continued to stare at her father. She could’ve sworn he was referring to his relationship with Malayka...
“Wait a minute,” she said.
Rafe actually chuckled. “Such a bright and beautiful child you are and you’ve grown into a lovely woman who looks just like her mother did at her age. But my Vivienne knew love when she first felt it. She knew it before I did and wrestled me down like a champion until I got it through my thick skull. Seems to me you inherited my thick skull.”
“Daddy, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam told him. She swallowed and tried to keep her voice as steady as possible.
“Then I’m sure you’re not like your mother in that regard. You and Gary have been tiptoeing around each other for the past couple of weeks when it’s obvious to everyone else that your little charade took a serious turn at some point.”
Sam flushed. She felt the heat fusing every portion of her body as her hands began to tremble with embarrassment.
“No. You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” Rafe asked. “Why are you really sitting in this room alone? You knew nobody would look for you in here so you figured you could think. Tell me what—or, rather, who—you were thinking about, Samantha.”
She took a slow breath, trying to figure out what to say to convince him.
“I was actually thinking about my life these last few years, Dad. Now that you’re about to remarry and Kris has married Landry, my role here in Grand Serenity will most definitely be changing. I need to figure out how I’ll deal with that.”
There, she thought. That sounded good and pretty damn convincing.
Rafe wasn’t buying it.
“You know you’ll always have a place here. You’ve instituted just as many good initiatives as your mother did in her time. There’s no way you can just walk away from that. I, and the people of Grand Serenity, will not let you,” he told her. “So, that leaves another aspect of your life that you could have been thinking about...”
“No,” she said and then stood. “There’s nothing else. This is my life. It has to be this way. I learned that already and there’s no use thinking I should change it.” Sam huffed out a breath and then continued. “I should go and take care of some letters I’ve been avoiding. I also need to respond to the director of the GirlPower Program at the hospital in the US. I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”
Rafe did not move to stand; rather, he seemed to wait patiently while Sam leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
He nodded to her and let her take a few steps away from him before saying, “You’ve got to let somebody in, Sammy-Girl. If you don’t, this life isn’t worth living. That’s what I realized when I met Malayka. Even though I could, and had done it for many years, I was not meant to live this life alone. I don’t believe you were, either.”
Sam stopped, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “You don’t understand, Daddy,” she said quietly.
“Oh, but I do, baby. I understand everything you went through and I wanted to break every bone in that man’s body for putting you through it. But you learned the lesson you needed to learn at that time. Now, years later, it’s time for you to take what you learned and do something with it. Hiding behind the incident proves he won and I’ll be damned if that happens. You should feel the same.”
Tears were already stinging her eyes. They’d been coming too fast and too frequently these past couple of weeks and she hated it. She hated the reason for them and the helplessness they caused her to feel. So when she probably should have said something else to her father, Sam simply shook her head and walked out of the room.
She walked pretty fast to get to her rooms, which were on the second floor and at the opposite side of the palace. But when her door was in sight she started to run, opening it and slamming it tight behind her before collapsing to the floor and letting the tears flow once again.
* * *
“I’ll be going to Baltimore with her,” Gary said that evening when they were sitting at the dinner table.
Sam’s fork fell to her plate with a loud clatter. Malayka rolled her eyes and Landry used her napkin to cover her mouth and the grin she was obviously trying to suppress.
Rafe stared at Gary a moment before giving a slight nod of his head. “That’s probably a good idea,” he said after what seemed like endless moments of tense silence.
“So he’ll be her private bodyguard now?” Malayka asked. “And her secret lover?”
Now, Landry gasped and Kris frowned. Roland had already taken his leave once more, but not before telling Gary that he’d done a good job of taking care of Morty.
Gary figured that might be as close to a thank-you or a truce that the two of them would manage. He’d accepted whatever it was and continued to speak to Roland after they’d finished one of several meetings they’d had with palace security and Kris over the past two weeks. While Roland had been away he’d been following up on the break-in at the bank to see if he could trace the money back to someone, anyone, who’d also had dealings with Malayka. Gary wasn’t sure that Roland’s investigation was going to be fruitful, but he’d admitted that it was worth a shot. After recalling Morty’s comments the night of the ball about Malayka knowing that the royal wedding was never supposed to take place, Gary was certain she was connected. And since the soon-to-be princess had put Sam in the line of fire, Gary was game for investigating any and everything that would finally lead them to the truth.
“I believe he’s listed as a security consultant,” Sam managed to say after taking a big gulp from the glass of wine.
Malayka waved her fork in the air in a “whatever” fashion before spearing it into the grilled chicken salad she’d opted to have for dinner. Gary and the rest of the family were having a fabulous jerk pulled-pork entrée.
“Didn’t we just have a complaint about a staff member sexually harassing a member of the family? Yes, I believe we did. And that person ended up dead.” Malayka forked the food into her mouth and wiggled her eyebrows as she stared at Gary this time.
Gary almost mentioned Morty’s comments at that moment. In the past couple of weeks he’d had to resist the urge to simply ask Malayka what Morty was talking about that night. The only thing that kept him from doing so was that he was dedicated to obtaining all the facts before shattering the façade of Prince Rafe’s happy-ever-after with this woman.
“That’s enough,” Rafe said in a stony tone. “Gary does work for us and
as such he will travel with Samantha to oversee her safety during this trip.”
“And what about the personal aspect?” Malayka continued.
She was only on her second glass of wine, but Gary had suspected when she’d stumbled toward her seat earlier that she may have had a drink or two before coming down to dinner.
“When I was at that godforsaken opening ceremony for the ridiculous garden show yesterday, a reporter asked when there was going to be another royal wedding. I, of course, assumed he was talking about our impending nuptials,” she said, looking at Rafe, but then shook her head. “Nope. He was referring to the princess and her Sir Galahad!”
The last part of her statement was said in a louder tone, with her arm going up to wave the napkin she’d scooped from her lap around her head.
Rafe stood, his expression grim as he moved toward her.
“We’re going to head upstairs now,” he said to her.
Malayka didn’t move. “I’m not sleepy,” she told him. “I’m mad.”
Rafe moved around to the back of her chair and put his hands under her arms to lift her up.
“This is supposed to be about me. My time. My wedding. My turn at ruling on this island. She’s taking everything!”
Gary didn’t know what to do except stare. Malayka sounded eerily like his ex-wife when he’d received the first offer from the publisher for his book. As a former championship gymnast, Tonya was the star of their family—at least that’s what she liked to think. At first, he’d admitted it had been easy to fall back and let her have the spotlight. She went to all kinds of speaking events given she was a quasi-star. He’d attended but often felt like nothing more than her bodyguard. It was a good thing his military training had often called for him to be in the background—the watcher, he supposed—otherwise he might have been offended. Now Gary found himself watching another woman.
He looked at Samantha while Rafe was working to get Malayka out of the dining room. She didn’t like what he’d said about going with her, but she wouldn’t express that, not in front of her family.