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His mother was American. It was said that Sam’s dad loved her very much. To be honest, I never saw anything in the man that showed he knew what love was. Sam’s mom died during labor, having Sam. This is something that his father never lets him forget either. I’m not sure how someone could blame their child for the death of its own mother just because it happened in childbirth. Then again, I’m of the opinion that the man is a monster.
I was lost in my thoughts, but I realize at once that I screwed up. My hand goes to the side of my face, but it’s too late. Sam has seen my scar. I never mentioned my attack to him. There was nothing he could do. I knew he was living in Russia with his Mikhail. I didn’t tell him, mostly because I didn’t want Sam to look at me…like he is looking at me right now.
He grabs my hand and brushes his thumb along the jagged scar. I close my eyes, refusing to cry.
“What the actual fuck!” he growls, rage barely controlled in his deep voice.
“Sam,” I whisper.
“What happened to you, Angie?”
“I was attacked in Phoenix,” I whisper, the words ugly on my tongue. For a moment, I can’t breathe. “It happened when I was in college, Sam. I’m fine, I promise.”
I’m anything but fine.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Angie?”
“Because I knew you’d come find me, and I didn’t want you to see me and do…” I catch my breath and then wave my hand around. “I didn’t want you to do this.”
“Come see you?” Sam asks, sounding hurt.
I shake my head no. “Look at me with pity. Everyone does that and I hate it.”
“It’s not pity you see, little one. It’s anger.”
“I’d rather not see that either,” I confess.
“Are you going to invite me in?”
“Will you stop looking at me like I’m damaged goods?”
“That’s not how I’m looking at you,” he grumbles.
I pull away from him and make my way to the door, letting him follow me inside. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Angie—”
“What about food? Are you hungry? I made a breakfast casserole this morning and it hasn’t been touched,” I add, frowning because Victor didn’t eat. I hope he at least found something on the way to the airfield. I shouldn’t worry about him, but I do. I don’t know if they serve meals on the private jet or not. I imagine they would, but who knows.
“I’m not hungry. Will you just look at me?”
I force my gaze up, trying to prepare myself for the pity I know will be shining in his eyes. I study him and it takes me a minute before I realize that’s not what I’m seeing at all. Nope, not even close. Sam is still Sam and he’s looking at me like he always does.With love.I walk into his arms without questioning myself. After my morning with Victor, his hug is exactly what I need.
He sits down at the kitchen table and pulls me back in his arms. I sit on his lap willingly. I let him hold me. I burrow into him until my head is resting on his chest and my ear ispressed against his beating heart. It’s something I remember Sam doing to bring me comfort after I had suffered a run in with my mother. “I’m sorry, Sam. I should have told you. I’m okay, I promise. I just have…moments.”
I figure that is an understatement. I also recognize that Sam can see through what I’m saying. He always could.
“You should have told me, runt,” he grumbles.
“We hadn’t talked that often and I don’t mean this bad, because you know I love you, but that’s hard to talk about with anyone.”
“I get that, but you had to know I’m safe. I also know how screwed up your mother is. I would have taken you away from all that shit.”
“And what? You would have taken me to Russia. I hate the cold,” I try to joke, ignoring the tears that are stinging my eyes. Sam is right. He has always cared about me.
“What the fuck is going on?”
I jerk as the door flies open so hard it bangs on the wall. Victor is standing there, looking like he’s ready to kill. Sam’s hands tighten their hold on me as he takes the man in. “Do you know him, Angie?”
