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Twenty-five minutes later, the Mercedes pulls down a main street lined with lavish buildings of sandstone and columns. It’s outside the business district and more a playground for the rich and famous prepared to spend in just a few hours what it could take the average person half a year to make. I’m not surprised Sam is dressed as a runway model—glamorous and sexy—any different and she’d be the odd one out in such a street… like me. I glance down at my pantsuit, and while it’s designer it simply won’t cut it.
There are many things Samantha could be employed as in this particular street. She’s a strikingly beautiful girl and can host any front of house well. But front of house never typically comes with such perks.
The Merc slows and indicates before turning in to the curb.
Without indicating, I maneuver into a tight parking spot at least eight cars away from Sam. She takes to the footpath and only walks a few feet to her destination. Other than the bright red door, there’s nothing distinctively remarkable about the building. It’s just as beautiful as the others surrounding it, the strange thing being there’s nothing to suggest this is a place of business.
A feeling of dread strikes deep within. It’s a far stretch from the Sam I know and love, but highly plausible given the evidence.
Has Samantha taken to prostitution to get out of the hole she was in?
All things considered it would certainly make sense.
The car, a personal driver, new house, money in the bank—it’s a drastic change and typically not one that happens so quickly.
Deciding on a last-ditch attempt to reach her, I dial Sam’s number and wait, eyes glued to her every movement. She pauses on the sidewalk and opens her clutch. Just as she had earlier, she glances at the name on the screen and chooses to ignore the call. Closing the clutch and hooking it under her arm, Sam walks up the three steps and presses a doorbell. Smoothing her dress over her slender thighs and adjusting her posture she waits. The door doesn’t open, but she’s talking to someone on the opposite side. When she’s finished, the red door opens and she’s granted access before it closes promptly behind her.
“What the hell are you doing, Sam?”
A loud, obnoxious rap on the driver’s window causes me to jump in fright.
Shit!
“Fuck me!” I breathe heavily while regaining some composure. I turn to see who’s behind the rude interruption.
What. The. Actual… “Kane?”
He barely smiles as he watches me curiously. I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed and have absolutely no explanation for being here.
Winding down the window with my heart in my throat, I splutter, “Kane, what… hi… um… what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, but his smile gives him away.
“I’m… just…” Think! Kane frowns waiting for my reply. “There’s this thing.”
“This thing?”
I gesture across the street. “Yeah, I was going to check out a new project.”
His gaze moves across the roof of the car, a small knowing smirk again twitching his lips before his eyes meet mine once more. “Oh? Whereabouts?”
“I, ah…” I quickly glance at the other side of the street but see nothing that can form a plausible story. “I think I’m lost actually.” I laugh nervously and he notices. Time to switch focus. “What are you doing here?”
Kane takes a few heartbeats to reply. “I was planning on meeting some potential clients for dinner but that can be easily changed.” His gaze lingers and I feel a blush heat my cheeks.
“Oh no, business comes first. I’m just going to head home—”
“And slip into something more comfortable?”
“Um… yes.”
“I’d like to be there for that.”
I swallow hard as he allows his words to settle in.
“Relax, Blythe.” He laughs seeing how flustered I am. Kane leans down so both elbows rest on the window ledge, his face dangerously close to mine. He smells like heaven, if heaven could be a sin. My eyes fall to his mouth, and his tongue quickly darts out to moisten his bottom lip. “While I would love nothing more than to see that sexy-as-fuck body of yours wearing something small and lacy, waiting also has its benefits.”
Where my cheeks were warm, they’re now flaming hot.
Kane Alexander is going to be my ruin.
“Waiting?”
A groan escapes his lips, and my thighs involuntarily clench. “The longer the wait, the greater the need.”
So, that explains a yearlong abstinence and why I feel like a horny teenager.
“When it does happen, Blythe, I promise you’ll be on your knees not only taking everything I have to give, but begging for it, and I’ll be relentless in taking what I want.”
“That sounds… lovely,” I barely manage to say before closing my eyes, hiding from my own stupidity.
Lovely? What am I? A fucking nana?
