I tried to quell the panic about to submerse me. Over the past few months, he’d become the center of my life. We spent every afternoon and evening together, holding hands, walking around town, stealing kisses. I couldn’t imagine my future without him. The idea of losing him hurt more than I realized. My fingers tightened around his until they ached, as if I could somehow keep him in my life by sheer physical force.
“What are you going to do?” The question burned on my tongue. I didn’t want to know the answer.
“I told him to go to hell. I don’t care about his precious company or the money.” With my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted my face until I was forced to look at him. “I just want you, Dakota.”
CHAPTER 22
Dakota - Now
AT THE END of our meeting, John MacGruder stood from his chair and shook Sam’s hand. He placed an arm around my shoulders and gave me a peck on the cheek. Once all the cards had been played, things moved quickly. John agreed to meet again the next week. Sam sent a quick text to Rockwell, asking him to meet us at the base of the second tower so I wouldn’t have to endure the sky bridge again. His unexpected thoughtfulness brought a lump to my throat and added confusion to my already muddled mind. Hate me, he might, but some part of him still cared.
In the hall, Sam turned to regard me. The light of triumph in his eyes gave me more satisfaction than MacGruder’s acquiescence. I’d forgotten how good it felt to see him happy. When we reached the elevators, he chucked me under the chin, sending a blast of heat straight through my core and down to my toes.
“You were great in there,” he said in his quiet voice. “Perfect.” His gaze dipped to my lips. Remembering who and where we were, he stepped back and tugged down the cuffs of his dress shirt in a purely masculine gesture.
“Uh, thank you?” I swallowed. Attraction pulsed through me. This virile, confident Sam had me twisting inside, at war with my better judgment. He had the power to hurt me in a way no one else could. I didn’t dare let my guard down for even a second, or these small flashes of kindness might wreck me. “I didn’t really do anything.”
“You put him at ease. I guarantee he would never have considered my offer without you there.”
“Why do you think your father wants to ruin him?”
“Because that’s the way he is, Dakota,” he said quietly. “When he wants something, he’ll go to any lengths to get it. And if he can ruin someone in the process, he’ll enjoy it all the more. You of all people should know that.”
It wasn’t an absolution of my guilt, but it was the closest he’d ever come to admitting his father played a part in our breakup. How much did he know? Had it contributed to their estrangement? I wanted to ask but wasn’t ready to open the door to our past quite yet. Instead, I stared at my toes until he touched my arm.
“We should celebrate,” he said.
“Celebrate what? The deal isn’t done yet.”
“We’ve survived a whole week together and no one has died yet.”
Our eyes met. He smiled at me, a full-blown, white-toothed smile, blinding in its beauty. I hadn’t seen that smile in a decade. It knocked away my reserve back like the shockwave of a bomb. And just like that, there he was. My Sam. The Sam I’d fallen in love with, the only man to ever hold my heart.
I pressed a hand to my stomach, overcome with conflicted emotion. Did I still love him? A wave of disbelief rolled over me. Had I ever stopped loving him? I looked away quickly, seeking control over my thoughts and fluttering pulse. Panic swept through me. Looking for support, I pressed a palm against the wall and scrambled to find my mental equilibrium.
“Are you okay?” The sound of his voice tightened the knots in my stomach.
“Fine. I just need to freshen up a little.” I gave him a weak smile and gestured toward the restroom a few feet away.
His gaze flicked to the steel-and-platinum watch on his wrist then up to me. The moment of warmth ended between us as the wall behind his eyes came down. “Hurry up. Rockwell is waiting. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
The elevator arrived with a ting, and the doors slid open. He stepped inside and left me alone. I went to the ladies’ room and took a minute to splash cold water over my wrists and on my neck, not wanting to disturb my makeup. My reflection stared from the mirror in front of me. I stared back, startled by the face I saw. Somewhere beneath the mascara, underneath the designer dress, lurked the girl I’d once been, the girl I’d fought so hard to obliterate. What did Sam see when he looked at me? Certainly not the girl he’d married or loved.
Move on, Dakota. I could no more afford to be in love with Sam than I could afford to walk away from my contract. To do so would be personal and professional suicide. If I was still in love with him, I needed to hide it from the both of us. My emotional and financial welfare depended upon it. Out of a need for self-preservation, I did the only thing I could do. Ilocked all my emotions into the closet of my soul, and threw away the key.
Once I’d made the decision to ignore emotion, a comforting calm descended over me, numbing me. I touched up my lipstick, forced a brittle smile of acceptance onto my face, and walked out of the restroom. I tapped a quick text to Sam, telling him I was on my way, and turned my attention to the number display above the doors, showing the elevator descending from the top of the building.
Any consolation I’d felt was short-lived when the elevator doors opened and the cold, calculating gaze of Maxwell Seaforth stared back at me.
CHAPTER 23
Dakota - Now
I RESISTED THE instinctive need to flee in the opposite direction. Two men in suits stood at my elbow, briefcases clutched at their sides. They moved around me to step on the elevator car, murmuring hushed greetings to Mr. Seaforth. He hit the open button for the doors, his gaze leveling on me with the intensity of an undetonated bomb.
“Take another one,” he told the men without looking at them.
I stepped backward, intending to wait for the next elevator as the men debarked. The look of panic on their faces would’ve been comical under other circumstances.
“Not you,” he said, his voice holding the same command I remembered from my youth. “I want to talk to you.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” I answered, surprised by the amount of control and confidence in my voice.
“Well, I’ve got something to say to you, and if you’re smart, you’ll hear it.”
The spurned men stared at me wide-eyed and disbelieving. I studied the man in front of me, weighing the sanity of accepting his proposal. I’d forgotten the similarity between son and father. Both were tall and broad-shouldered, carrying an undeniable air of command. The similarity ended there.
“Dakota.” Mr. Seaforth barked my name, his voice sharp and laden with animosity.
I narrowed my gaze on him and lifted my chin to let him know I wasn’t intimidated. Once I’d boarded the elevator, the doors slid shut. The air became close. I faced forward, refusing to look at him. “Whatever you’ve got to say, say it,” I said. “Because it will be your only chance.”
He grabbed my elbow. I shot him a look of pure hatred. He withdrew his hand with a small noise of amusement. “I had to see it for myself. I couldn’t believe it. That he’d have anything to do with you.” The contempt in his voice shriveled my insides. It was arctic cold, his disgust matching mine. “After what you did—”
“You mean after what we did.” I turned to face him. We stared at each other. This man represented everything I hated about myself. It was like standing next to the devil, whispering temptations into my ear, daring to lead me down the path to ruin and damnation. I clutched the phone in my hand tighter. It vibrated with what I assumed was Sam’s answering text. I glanced down at the screen, unseeing. “Excuse me,” I said, my tone dripping with fake politeness. “It’s your son.” I pretended to tap out a quick text, but I turned on the video recorder instead and dropped my hand to my side. I didn’t trust this man.
“Why is
he here?” he asked, eyes searching my face. “I want to know everything.” He took a menacing step toward me. “You will tell me everything.”
I snorted contemptuously. “Hell if I will. If you want answers, ask him yourself.” I resisted the urge to glance at the floor numbers, wishing the damn elevator would hurry. It was fast, but not fast enough.
“I wonder what he’s up to,” he mused. The weight of his gaze pinned me to the floor. “How’s your mother, by the way? And your brother? I hear Crockett is up to his old tricks.” The veiled threat in his inquiry had my hands trembling, but damn if I’d give him the satisfaction of showing it.
“You’ve been checking up on me?” The gall of this man baffled me. “Why are you so threatened?”
His laughter seared my ears. “You’re no threat. He hates you more than he hates me.”
“Thanks to you,” I replied.
“If you’re in the picture again, there has to be a good reason, and I want to know why.” He sneered down his nose at me. “How much will it cost?” He drew his wallet from his pocket. “I don’t have much cash on me.”
“To hell with you and your money. I’m not a naïve kid anymore,” I said, unable to contain my temper any longer. “You can take your wallet and shove—”
The elevator doors slid open at the thirty-seventh floor, stopping me mid-insult, and a cluster of young, pretty women stepped inside the car. Their gazes flicked from me to Mr. Seaforth. The tension between us was palpable, even to them. We rode in uncomfortable silence to the lobby. His fingers found my elbow once again, pinning me to his side until the others had left.
He leaned close, the heat of his body chilling me from the inside out. “You’ll be back.”
I yanked my arm from his grasp and squared my shoulders. “Don’t count on it.”
I sprinted through the lobby and out the door. Sam stood beside the car, phone to his ear. Our eyes met and a furrow formed between his brows. I tried to school my features into nonchalance. Seeing his father left me empty and chaotic. The recording of our encounter sat in my pocket like a loaded gun. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, but having it gave me a small sense of reassurance.
CHAPTER 24
Samuel - Now
DAKOTA PUSHED THROUGH the revolving doors of the tower and exploded out onto the sidewalk, a harried light in her eyes. I stood beside the car, cell phone at my ear, with Tucker on the other end of the line. A burst of wind caught the hem of Dakota’s dress and swirled it above her knees. At the sight of her stockings and garter straps, my conversation stumbled. I’d always been more of a breast man, but knowing she wore sexy lingerie beneath her dress captivated my imagination, derailed my focus, and tied my tongue.
“Sam?” Tuck, spoke my name for a second time. “You still there?”
“Yes. Let me call you back.”
“Sounds important.” Tuck’s lazy voice always held a note of laughter. Now was no exception.
“It is.” My gaze locked on Dakota’s face. She was pale, her eyes huge and round. Alarms sounded in my subconscious. I’d seen that expression before, years earlier. Foreboding tightened my chest.
“Don’t forget we’re having drinks after the fundraiser thing. You got a date yet?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, even though I hadn’t given one thought to the event. The takeover of Harmony, Dakota, and the business with MacGruder had kept my mind preoccupied.
“Liar.” Tuck knew me too well and called me on it. “You’ve got two weeks. And remember, if you show up dateless, you owe five thousand bucks to the charity of my choice. And Dahlia doesn’t count.”
“You really don’t like Dahlia, do you?” Rockwell moved to open the door for Dakota, but I waved him away and opened it myself. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder, like she expected someone to be following her.
“No. I don’t trust her, and you shouldn’t either.” I heard Tuck’s words but couldn’t pry my eyes away from the strange expression on Dakota’s face.
“Look, this is urgent. I’ll catch you later.” I ended the call and dropped my phone into my pocket. If Tuck knew the urgent matter was my ex-wife, he’d give me a truckload of well-deserved shit. Being a lifelong bachelor himself, he had no understanding of commitment or monogamy or the devastation of ending a relationship.
She slid into the car. I followed behind her. We drove in silence down the street for a few minutes. I scrolled through my work email, unable to focus on anything besides her withdrawal. Her introspection confused me and tempered some of my elation over MacGruder. Part of me wanted to ask about her mood; the rest remained stoic and silent. I didn’t want to know or care about whatever issues she wrestled. Emotional entanglement would only put my heart at risk, a mistake I’d never, ever repeat with her.
Guilt washed through me as I shot a sideways glance at her. She looked miserable, and I could hardly blame her. Exhaustion tempered my mood. Executing vendettas was tiresome work. Maybe I’d been a little harsher with her than she deserved. Sure, she’d done me wrong, but it had been over a decade ago. What kind of petty jerk held on to a grudge for so long? My father. The realization filled me with so much self-disgust that my fingers clenched into fists. This was the way he acted, toying with people’s emotions, playing with their lives like characters in a video game.
On impulse, I leaned forward, tapped Rockwell on the shoulder, and murmured new instructions in his ear. He nodded and changed our route. Dakota and I needed a reprieve from our silly game. I hoped, with a little effort, we could reach some kind of neutral ground. I’d loved her once and spurned my father to have her. She’d felt the same way, at least in the beginning. Despite my constant denials, I was dying to know what made her stop.
When the car halted outside Gabriel’s Landing, Dakota glanced up at me, confusion plain on her features. “What is this?”
“I thought we’d have dinner,” I said. “I know you’re hungry. I can still hear your stomach pitching a fit. You never got to finish your lunch.” I don’t know why it suddenly seemed so important for me to feed her, but it did. Maybe I wanted to show off a little, impress her with how far I’d come in life. Maybe it was because I’d never been able to afford a swanky restaurant when we were married. Either way, I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She opened her mouth to speak, a frown of refusal on her face. I shook my head in warning. She shrugged, and I felt the tiniest bit of disappointment when she didn’t argue.
We ate dinner in uncomfortable silence. I ordered enough food for four people along with a bottle of their most expensive cabernet. She picked at her food and didn’t even notice the wine, except to refill her glass twice. Her lack of recognition left me dissatisfied. I wanted to rub my success in her face, to show her what she’d given up by forsaking me, goad her into admitting she’d made a mistake in leaving me.
“Have you been here before?” I asked, wanting to break her insufferable silence. Even when she was quiet, she pissed me off. At least when she spoke, I had her attention.
“No.” She lifted the bottle of wine and poured the last drop into her glass. “It’s a little swank for my taste.”
“Do you like the cabernet? It’s an exclusive vintage. We’re lucky to get it.”
“Oh?” She tilted the glass and took a gulp. “I hadn’t noticed.” I frowned, and the corners of her mouth curved. “Of course, as far as I’m concerned there are only three types of wine. Cork, screw top, and box.” She took one last drink, draining it. “So if you’re trying to impress me, it’s a waste of your time and money.” Her tongue swept over her lower lip with sensual slowness. I glanced up to her eyes and found them full of playful light. My incorrigible girl was back again.
“Really? I thought you’d swoon at the absurd cost of this bottle.” I gripped it around the neck and held it up for her inspection. “So what does it take to impress you these days? Cars? I’ve got six. Houses? I have two.”
“Only two?” She ran a finger around the rim of her wineglass. “So ma
terialistic, Mr. Seaforth. I’m disappointed. You always hated people who bragged about their wealth.”
A wave of heat rushed up my neck and into my face. I heard my father’s voice, recounting his assets, prizing wealth above all else. I scowled to cover my irritation. “I’m not bragging. I’m stating facts. Life is about chasing what you want and grabbing it with both hands. And I always get what I want these days.”
“And what is it you want?” She stared at me, her focus roaming from my eyes to my lips and back to my eyes again. That simple act made my cock stiffen. I’d never felt so seen before, not before Dakota, and certainly not since. I shifted in my chair.
“I want it all. Everything.” Beneath the table, my knee grazed hers. Sparks of attraction skittered up my leg and into my groin. “I want to prove to my father that he was wrong about me.” I let my leg rest against hers. She didn’t pull away. “What do you want, Dakota?”
“To be happy.” Her answer came quickly and without consideration.
“That’s it?” I sat back in the seat and tried to school the surprise off my face. Most girls when posed with this question would recount endless lists of clothes and cars and houses, but Dakota wasn’t most girls and never had been.
“Isn’t that enough?” she asked.
It wasn’t enough for you, I thought, but held the statement back. If she didn’t want money, why did she leave me? The question had kept me awake every night for the past week. “Of course, being a millionaire in your own right probably raises the stakes a little,” I continued. Her face darkened, and I felt a surge of triumph. I’d hit a tender spot. If she was angry with me, she wasn’t ignoring me. Being male and an ass, I poked a little more. “What are your minimum criteria for a date these days?”
“You might be surprised,” she retorted.
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