Page 18 of Choosing Samantha

“The jet can leave in ninety minutes.”

I look toward Samantha’s bedroom. “Send a team.”

“We did. They can’t isolate the breach.”

I close my eyes, silently cursing my luck. I should wait until Samantha wakes up to tell her, but duty wins out—fear helps it. “I’ll be there in five.” I hang up, telling myself I’ll call Samantha from the car. Then I change it to the airport, then after we land—each failed promise filling me with guilt. But exhaustion and the crisis make me forget every promise I made to the one person who matters most.

How will she ever forgive me for leaving a note beside her new phone and walking away before she even woke up?

eight

Samantha

The note by my new phone contained exactly seven words.

Emergency at work. I’ll explain. I’m sorry.

I waited for Arch to call, and for three days nothing—no call, not even a text to tell me he was okay and not to worry about him.

By Tuesday, I felt more humiliated than worried. I’d given him my most vulnerable self, and he disappeared before morning. Even worse, I let his silence drag on, checking my phone until it died, then charging it just to check again, like some pathetic lovesick fool.

Then Kendra found out the truth about Elite Connections. She had finally taken the plunge and signed up to be an escort with Elite Connections. She had been messing around with some of the features—using my profile as practice.

“You need to see this.” She turns her laptop so I can see what she means. On the screen is my account, with the words:

Under an Exclusive Retainer

Client: Arch Jamison.

Duration: three months.

Every other assignment request is set to be automatically declined per the information on the screen.

“He blocked them,” I whisper.

“He paid the exclusivity fee after your first brunch.” Kendra points out.

My stomach turns—before the gala, before the glass studio, before we slept together—he’d planned this. He controlled my income and pretended not to know why my assignments disappeared. The new phone wasn’t a kind gesture—it was control.

Anger finally breaks through my hurt, letting me breathe again. I call the agency and tell them to remove the restriction. The coordinator says it might take a few business days, since Arch has already paid.

“I don’t care about that. I need an assignment now.” I yell into the phone, not caring that I sound like a crazy person, but damn it, I need to break free of the hold Arch put on me and go back to being what I signed up to be—an escort. Maybe then I’ll remember it's always been a job.

After a tense pause, she offers me a last-minute job that isn’t my usual type—a masked charity ball. The assignment describes it as a public event with heavy security, set for Friday night—perfect. The client also wants someone elegant who can discuss art—even better.

I say yes before fear can stop me. I want to show Arch that he doesn’t control my time. But mostly, I want to stop feeling as if he still owns my heart.

nine

Arch

Frankfurt became six days without sleep. But more importantly, it became six days without Samantha in it.

By the time we had the breach under control, I had sixty-three missed calls, hundreds of messages, and one email from Elite Connections.

EXCLUSIVE RETAINER DISPUTED BY COMPANION.

A cold dread washes over me. I call Samantha, but she doesn’t answer. I call again—this time the call is blocked.