Page 8 of Choosing Samantha

Guilt presses in my chest. I should have told her. I should have asked. Instead, I watch the city go by through the tinted windows and let myself believe I’m protecting her.

It’s the first lie I tell Samantha—little did I know it would be the worst one.

four

Samantha

For the next six days, I check my Elite Connections account so often it borders on obsession. When no assignments appear in my inbox, I’m half relieved, half disappointed.

According to Kendra’s cousin, new companions usually receive several requests after a good first appointment—my brunch rating was perfect, and the agency coordinator even messaged me to praise me. Still, my calendar remains empty.

I tell myself I’m disappointed because I need the money—not because I’ve secretly hoped Arch would request me again. Every time my new phone chimes, I hope Arch’s name appears on the screen.

He didn’t ask for my private number or contact me through the agency. After handing me a phone that cost more than everything in my closet, he walked me to my apartment building, thanked me for my time, and left. I’d spent the week wondering whether I’d imagined the attraction between us.

Until Friday afternoon, when an assignment request arrived.

CLIENT: ARCH JAMISON

EVENT: Harrington Museum Autumn Art Gala

ATTIRE: Formal

SATURDAY, 7:00 P.M.

My heart gives a ridiculous little leap. The thought of seeing Arch again makes me smile.

Kendra leans over my shoulder. “Oh, he wants you again.”

“It’s a business event.” I set my phone face down on the table. For some reason, I don’t want Kendra to read the assignment details.

“He could have hired anyone.” Her smug tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

I try not to smile. “Apparently, I’m good at pretending he’s sociable.” I can’t help but remember our easy banter and how comfortable I feel around him.

“He bought you a phone.” Kendra’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“For safety,” I say, more to remind myself not to read too much into his gift than to argue with Kendra.

“Sure.” The way she drags out the word makes me realize I’m fooling no one.

The request includes a formalwear allowance large enough for a designer gown. Instead, I decide to rent a dark green dress that fits my curves and leaves my back bare. There’s no point in spending that much on a gown I’ll probably wear only once. Besides, I love how I look in this dress. When Arch arrives Saturday evening, I know I chose correctly.

He stands by the town car in a black tuxedo, one hand in his pocket, his eyes drifting from my heels to my loosely pinned hair. For several seconds, he says nothing, and I start to second-guess my decision to rent a dress instead of buying one.

“Is something wrong?” I nervously run my hands along the sides of the dress.

“No.” His gaze intensifies, leaving me breathless.

“You look upset.”

“I’m trying to remember how to speak.”

Warmth spreads from my chest to my cheeks. “That was almost charming.”

“Almost?” He quirks an eyebrow, giving him an almost rakish look—I definitely need to stop watching Bridgerton.

“You still look like you want to interrogate someone.”