“I am over it. I’m just saying. Stop shouting before you hurt the baby,” Declan said.
“Declan, I doubt if she will hurt the baby by shouting,” Samantha snickered.
“You don’t know that. Studies have shown—”
“What studies?” They all shouted simultaneously.
“I give up!” Declan said, throwing up his hands.
“Declan, me, and my wife have this under control,” Shane said, over his laughter. “Trust me on this.”
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” Declan said.
“That must be a twin thing,” Austin, said.
“Most, definitely,” Samantha, agreed. “If we’re done, I need to get back. I have work to do.”
“I’ll ride back with you to make sure you don’t get any more speeding tickets,” Austin said.
“What speeding ticket?” Declan asked.
“The one Sam got on the way over here. She told me,” Austin teased.
“Still the tattle-tale, Austin?”
“How fast were you going?” Tracey asked.
“I have no clue. I just wanted to open up the Colby,” Samantha shrugged.
“Well, what did the officer say?” Tracey asked.
“He so kindly reminded me that I was driving a car, not an airplane, and then handed me my ticket and was on his way. I didn’t even see him,” Samantha complained.
“You must have been wheeling it. How far over the speed limit, Sam,” Tracey smiled.
“I was doing ninety in a fifty-five,” she mumbled.
“Where the hell is there a speed limit of fifty-five on a central strip?” Austin asked.
“It switches back and forth. Some spot is sixty-five—some seventy; however, Samantha would have still gotten a ticket. She was driving 90 mph,” Shane grinned.
The ringing of Samantha’s cell phone prevented her from answering.
She looked at the caller id and squinted. Why was her pharmacy calling her?
“Hello.”
“Ms. Powell?”
“Yes, this is Samantha Powell.”
“This is Cathy at the pharmacy, Ms. Powell.”
“Oh, Hello, Cathy!” Samantha smiled.
“Sorry to bother you, but I thought you’d want to know. I caught one of our workers giving a copy of your daughter’s prescription to a reporter. I have called the authorities on her, and, of course, we’ve fired her,” she rushed on.
“Oh, no!” Samantha, cried, getting up and wiping her sweaty palms on her shorts.
“We’ve had a lot of news and magazine people hanging around asking questions after the interview yesterday with that racer guy that appeared on Sports Center™,” Cathy informed her.
Cathy was a sweetheart. She was the daughter of the owners of the mom and pop pharmacy that Samantha had chosen to get all of her, and Kayla’s prescriptions filled.
“Thanks, for letting me know, Cathy,” Samantha whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.
“The police will want to talk to you about pressing charges too.”
“Okay, thanks, bye,” Samantha said in a daze.
“What’s happened?” Declan asked, hurriedly.
“That was my pharmacist. Apparently one of their workers sold a copy of Kayla’s prescription to a reporter,” Samantha said, and then sank back down on the sofa and covered her face.
“What the hell!” Declan stormed.
“Yes, and according to her, they’ve had several journalists bugging them about me and Kayla.”
“Why would they need her prescription?” Austin asked in confusion.
“I would guess since Daniel went flapping his gums, that they’re looking for her date of birth. Anything to draw a connection between me, her, and Daniel.”
“If they’ve found your pharmacy, I can guarantee they’ve found where you live and will probably be swarming the place,” Shane said. “I’ll call Adam. He’s fantastic with this PR stuff.”
“It’s a blessing Kayla’s with Mom and Dad,” Tracey said.
“I’ll call them to let them know what’s going on, and to be careful,” Declan said, taking out his cellphone.
Chapter Fourteen
“Mr. Ashby, how does it feel to be a father?” A reporter pressed a mic in his face.
What the hell are they talking about?
“I wouldn’t know since I don’t have any children,” was his curt reply. He fucking hated reporters.
“There’s evidence to show that there’s a strong possibility that Samantha Powell’s daughter is your child. How do you feel about that?”
“Pure conjecture,” he said, and continued to walk to his car.
“You stated that you and Ms. Powell had a relationship, yet you deny that the child is yours?” another reporter pushed a mic in his face.
“I don’t believe Mrs. Powell’s husband would appreciate the insinuation that another man fathered his wife’s child. Like I said all of this is pure fabrication,” Daniel barked.
“Oh, but Ms. Powell doesn’t have a husband. Are you saying she had your ‘love child’?” Another reporter asked.
What the hell! Daniel thought. He needed to talk to Samantha immediately! He thought, before getting into his car, and slamming the door. He’d also look into hiring private security personnel. Maybe he shouldn’t have fired his other security detail. Daniel didn’t like people poking their noses into his business, and this business with Samantha was getting out of control.
It all made sense now, her not wanting to talk to him, or see him. Samantha told him she’d gotten the abortion. Why, would she do this to him? She knew! She knew I didn’t want children! He screamed over and over again in his head.
Daniel banged his fist on the steering wheel and slowly backed out of the parking lot. Cameras and flashing bulbs were everywhere. He should run the whole lot of them over. If he didn’t think he’d be arrested he’d do just that.
Samantha had better have a damn good explanation for all of this. She and her little brat were not going to mess with his career.
He took out his cell phone and dialed Samantha’s number. It went straight to voicemail. “We need to talk now! I want to know all about this love child I am supposed have fathered! What the hell are you playing at?” he stormed, disconnected the call, and threw his cell phone across the seat.
“I need a drink,” he said and whipped his car around to go to one of the bars he often frequented when he was in town. It had been a week since his damnable interview, and these stupid ass reporters were still hounding him. Pest! That’s what they are: vermin!
*
Samantha looked at the beeping green light of her cell phone indicating that she had a message. She’d seen the number and knew that it was Daniel. She didn’t feel like talking to him right now. Samantha knew that she had to, but not yet.
She’d left Shane and Tracey’s and had come directly home. They wanted her to stay, but she’d declined. Thankfully, there weren’t any reports waiting for her. Samantha wasn’t hiding out anymore. She’d done what was best for her and her child, and didn’t regret one minute of it. Her only regret was the choice she’d made to be with Daniel in the first place.
Their faces were plastered all over the social media sites. Someone had even posted a picture of her beautiful baby girl. Samantha was angry! Outraged that people would invade a child’s privacy for the purposes of monetary gains.
She hadn’t realized until now, while looking at Kayla’s photograph that she was staring at the likeness of a young Daniel Ashby in the face of her daughter. They looked so much alike.
Kayla was angelic, and Daniel was the devil incarcerate. Too bad she hadn’t realized that before. “Hormones will get you into trouble every time,” she voiced.
Samantha’s cell rang again. She looked down at it and smiled. Adam.
“Hello.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Pretty good. I just try to stay out of public places,” she said sarcastically.
/> “It’ll die down soon. Something else will come along, and they’ll be off to bug someone else, and you’ll no longer be the hot topic.”
“I sure hope so. I miss Kayla. I want her here with me,” Samantha complained.
“I know you do. Are you sure you don’t want me to come down?”
“No, I’m not sure, but it’s for the best. You don’t need to be dragged into this mess too.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. She was about to ask if he was still there when he finally spoke.
“Have you spoken to him?”
“No. He’s left several messages on my cell. I don’t feel like talking to him right now. He started this whole mess with his arrogance,” Samantha said angrily.
“He did, yes. It still has to be settled one way or another, suga’”
“You’ve done an excellent job with the PR, Adam,” she said, changing the subject.
“I’m trying to keep everything to a minimal. Not letting it get out of control. Social media is making my job more difficult than usual.”
“My baby’s picture is floating all around on those sites. If I could get my hands on the individual who did that, I’d strangle him or her.”
“Yes, it was hard for me to contain myself too. Hey, I have an idea!” he cried suddenly.
She heard the excitement in his voice and wondered what had sparked his enthusiasm.
“What idea?”
“How about I go pick up Kayla, and we get away from all the crazy for a while—like for a week?”
Samantha hesitated. “I don’t know Adam; seems like we’d be borrowing trouble. Although, it does sound good—to get away and not have to worry about being watched all the time.”
“So let’s do it!”
“If you pick up Kayla, my parents with have questions.”
“No, they won’t, they’ve seen me with Kayla before. I’m not brand-new, Samantha.”
“Where would we go?”
“I don’t know. Is your passport up-to-date?”
“Yes. Why?”
“We could go to Hawaii, the Bahamas, or Jamaica—take your pick.”
“That would be too much flying for Kayla, considering you’d have to pick her up from Florida first,” Samantha sighed. “Either place sounds delicious.”
“I’m checking flights now to Nassau, Bahamas. They have a flight leaving out tonight at 10:25, but we’d have a layover in Miami for a little over six hours. I’m not finding any direct flights this late in the game. They’re plenty non-stop flights from the Nassau to Charlotte. What do you think? We could haul up in a hotel until our flight leaves out, or we can rent a car and drive down to pick Kayla up, and be on our way,” he said.
Samantha thought about it for a moment; stretching out on a beach and relaxing sounded oh so good to her. And, this would be the perfect opportunity for her, and Adam to spend some quality time together without interruptions, or sneaking about.
“Samantha?”
“I’m here,” she said. “I thought since it’s such a late flight, why don’t we leave Kayla with my parents? I don’t want to interrupt her sleep. We can do something with Kayla when she’s back home; if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course, it’s okay. It’s great! But we’ll have to do something special with Kayla when she returns.”
Adam’s jubilance radiated through the phone. Samantha was pleased that he was happy with her idea.
“Sure we can. My parents are taking her to water parks and the works while she’s with them.”
“We’ll have to top that. I’ll think of something. How long do you want me to book the trip for?”
“Five days should be enough,” she said.
“On it. Pack your bag. I should be there in about four hours, tops.”
“That’s a lot of traveling, Adam; you’re sure you’re up to it tonight?”
“Yes, I am. Leaving at night is a great way to avoid reporters, and nosy people,” he chuckled.
“Gotcha. I have to pack too. I’ll be ready when you get here.”
“Thank you, for trusting me, Samantha,” he said, and then the line went dead.
Samantha smiled down at her cell and quickly dialed Tracey’s cell.
“Hello.”
“Hi Tracey, It’s me, Sam.”
“I know who you are. What’s up?”
“Listen, I’m going away for a few days. I just need to get away and clear my head. I wanted to give you a heads up.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll probably just drive down to Myrtle Beach. All of this craziness is starting to get to me.”
“I can understand that. Well, keep your cell handy. I’m not too comfortable with you hanging out down there on your own.”
“Boy, being pregnant is bringing out the mother hen in you,” Samantha chuckled. “I’ve been traveling by myself for a while now, sister, dear.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Later tonight or first thing in the morning.”
“Okay, be careful, and call me when you’re leaving and when you get there.”
“Yes, mother. I’m hanging up now. I have to call Mommy.”
“Okay, Bye.”
Samantha hung up, dialed her parents and let them know she was going to be away for a few days. She talked to her mom for a little while, before hanging up. Her mother seemed to believe she was taking some alone time.
“Ha! If only you knew, Mommy,” she smiled and then walked back to her room to prepare for her and Adam’s trip.
Chapter Fifteen
Samantha had just gotten out of the shower—she still had a towel wrapped around her wet hair when she heard the chiming of her doorbell. Brows knitted together; she glanced over at her bedside clock. It had only been two hours since she’d spoken to Adam. No way had he made it here in that short span of time. Closing the lid on her suitcase, Samantha rushed out of her bedroom, pulling her robe closer together, while quickly making her way to the front door.
“Who is it?” she called, her hand on the lock.
“Daniel.” She heard him called through the closed door.
Samantha hesitated—her hands shook, as she contemplated on whether or not to answer.
“Samantha?” he called.
Realizing that hiding out wasn’t going to do her any good, she abruptly unlocked released the latch on the door and opened it.
“How did you find out where I lived?” she asked, sharply.
“I have my ways. Can I come in? I’m not going away,” he said firmly.
Samantha stepped back to allow him enough room to enter her home, and closed the door after him.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Have a seat at the Kitchen Island. I need to put some clothes on. I’ll be right back,” she said.
“You don’t have to on my account,” he smiled, staring at her breast.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Daniel. Have a seat or leave,” she snapped. Samantha waited with her arms across her chest for him to either leave or take a seat when he sat down, she then turned and walked back to her bedroom.
Once in her bedroom, she closed and locked the door. She quickly put on her bra and panties—pulled a maxi-dress over her head, and then tossed the towel from her hair onto the bed—her natural curls fell freely about her shoulders. Samantha checked herself in the mirror—satisfied that she was properly covered—she went to join Daniel in the kitchen.
She found Daniel holding a framed picture of Kayla in his hand.
“I thought I told you to have a seat in the kitchen?” she snapped, snatching the photo out of his hands.
“She’s beautiful,” he said, slowly.
“Yes, she is.”
“She’s mine isn’t she?”
“If you mean did you father her, yes; is she yours, no. She’s all mine.”
“You told me that you’d aborted the baby. Why’d you keep it?” he demanded.
“Kayla is not it—she’s a littl
e girl—my baby, and just so you know, I never had any intentions of aborting my baby.”
“Listen, I don’t care what you do but I don’t need the hassle of a kid. I told you from the beginning that I didn’t want children,” he barked. She’s your problem not mine. I won’t be involved.
“No, you said that only after I’d gotten pregnant. Plus, my daughter is not a problem, you freaking ingrate,” Samantha stormed, furious beyond belief now. She took a deep calming breath and looked him directly in the eyes. “Why are you here, Daniel?”
“I wanted to see for myself if the child was mine. I figured you’d had another affair or was married or something. I never thought you’d deceived me, and had a kid without my knowledge,” he retorted.
“Now you know. So what?”
“I won’t claim her as mine,” he said.
“That’ll be the biggest blessing outside of Kayla I’ve received in a very long time,” she retorted. Adam was another blessing to her and to Kayla too, but she wouldn’t tell this fool that. “Who in the hell would want you as a father, Daniel? You’re still a kid in a man’s body.”
“You weren’t saying that all those times you were screaming my name, and begging me to take you,” he smirked. “We were good together, Samantha, and we could’ve been again, had you not had the kid.”
“Maybe we were good together once, but guess what? I’ve moved on to ‘bigger’ and ‘better’,” she snapped. “Now, get the hell out of my house and never come back.”
“I’ll leave, but first, I have a proposition for you: I want to race the new Powell car. I was going to let you be my crew chief, but that’s not happening,” he said.
Samantha couldn’t believe the arrogance of this man. Did he honestly believe he was doing her a favor? That just goes to show: you can dress stupid up, but the moment stupid open its mouth—it’s evident. This idiot put the ‘S’ in stupid.
“Anything Powell is off limits to you! Including my daughter,” She yelled. “You are not racing the Powell car. We already have a driver for the car, and his name is certainly not Daniel Ashby.”
“You know I can get the specs and have one built on my own, right?”
“No you can’t, and you and I both know it,” she retorted.
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