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“Because she’s not over it, and she can’t believe there’s a man alive who doesn't want her,” I growl. “I sure the fuck don’t.”
“Well. She certainly seems to think everything is just great between you. And thanks for telling her that you were paying me. That was an especially nice touch,” she says bitterly.
I stare at her. “I never said a damn thing about our agreement.”
“Well, she made sure to let me know that she knows. So at least two of your little friends know that I’m nothing but a paid wh—”
“Don’t say it,” I growl. “What we agreed to is something separate from everything else. I’ve never thought of you that way, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes. “‘Don’t talk to anyone, Samantha.’ ‘Just smile and nod, Samantha,’” she mimics, and I open my mouth to argue.
She holds a hand up and shakes her head, and I close my mouth again. “It doesn’t matter. One thing is very clear. She fits here a hell of a lot better than I do.”
“Samantha, she’s crazy. She wants me back, but I’m not interested. I don’t want her. I want you.”
“Did you hear me, Dante?” she asks, her voice hard, angry. “It would never work. I don’t fit with…all of this,” she says, extending her arms and gesturing to everything around us: the venue, the line of limos, her evening gown. “This is your world, and I was never meant to be here.” Tears spill from her eyes, but she looks away from me, and it’s clear that she doesn’t want me to comfort her. She’s standing right here with me, but she’s already removed herself from my life.
My chest feels tight. “So that’s it? Just done?”
She looks down.
“Samantha,” I growl.
“Yes. Done. We said a month. The month is over. Or did you not notice that it’s midnight? Our contract is up.”
I stare at her in surprise and dread. She’s still got that anguished, torn look in her eyes, but her voice is so distant it feels like I’m a million miles away, even though I’m standing right in front of her.
“Samantha,” I repeat. “Don’t go.”
She lets out a sardonic huff of a laugh, a bitter sound that doesn’t suit her.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone else to decorate your arm and fuck you whenever you need it.”
“That’s not—”
“Bye, Dante. Thanks for the job.”
I stare at her as she takes one, two, three steps away from me. “You’re walking away from something amazing. You’ll miss what we ha
ve.”
She shakes her head. “Can’t miss something that never really existed at all. Take care of yourself.” She hails a cab and climbs into the back, and then she’s gone, and all I can do is watch the cab and its taillights until they disappear from view, taking away the one thing I know I don’t want to live without.
Chapter Twelve
Samantha
Six Months Later…
I walk out of the theater full of adrenaline. I know I goddamn nailed that audition. It’s a supporting role for a Broadway play one of Reginald’s friends is producing. The second he got wind of it, he called me and told me I should go for it.
It’s bittersweet, talking to Reginald. It’s impossible to do that without thinking of the man who introduced me to him. I almost didn’t go on the audition, telling Reginald that I don’t want special treatment because of who I know or anything, and he just laughed and assured me that his friend didn’t give a damn who I knew; all he would care about was whether I could act or not.
And I acted my ass off in that room.
I smile to myself as I walk out of the building. I can’t get my hopes up, but holy shit, I know I put everything into that.
I push the door open and turn toward the end of the street where my car is parked.
