She sighed at the thought, but reached forward for the mug Jessica passed her. It wasn’t what she really wanted to drink—but it was the best of a bad job. She hated almond milk, and the way the café shop sweetened everything with Stevia? Ugh. Still, she never wanted to offend Jess. This kind of lifestyle was important to her vegan friend, and whatever Samantha was, she was supportive.
Even if that meant having to put up with bad coffee and sandwiches made from chickpea flour wraps.
When Jess rounded the counter, a dull oak plank that had been salvaged from somewhere or other, she jerked her chin at a free table in the corner of the café.
The place was filled with ethnic colors that were definitely cheerful. Even if the coffee wasn’t the best, a part of Samantha always felt lifted after coming here. They were in the heart of a really African neighborhood. So, the tribal decorations were the real deal, provided by a few of the families who owned the coffee shop—Jessica’s included. The first time her friend had shown her this place, she’d pointed to a scarf that her grandmother had worn about her head in the old country.
It still astonished Samantha to see it because the colors were so vibrant, it was like it had been made last year and not last century.
The tables were all scrubbed oak too, and the chairs were comfortable armchairs that invited customers to take a seat and relax with a book. The vibe here was so chilled that Samantha always liked meeting her friend here.
It was so different to the life she’d led with Jamie. So simple and basic. Just like her life had once been.
The truth was, even though she’d never be able to tell Jess everything, she was so grateful she’d bumped into the other woman at a yoga class.
Some days, Samantha felt sure Jessica and Erin were the only things that had gotten her through the darkest moments with Jamie.
Throat thick again, she tried to shake off the emotion haunting her. She’d been doing so well, but recent events had really stirred the old ghosts up. She’d tried to put Jamie and his abuse in the past, burying it away like it was a dead body. But now, things were being dragged to the surface and for all that she was strong, Samantha wasn’t sure if she could handle having to deal with the resurrection of memories that belonged firmly in the past.
Settling on the chintz armchair, she watched as Jess cast a weathered eye over the coffee shop. It was their quiet time, just before the post-workday-end rush. Things grew calm after lunch and got busier again around six. Samantha liked to visit at threeish on these days. It meant Jess could relax some after a stressful lunch period, but also keep things ticking over with the other members of staff picking up most of the strain.
When Jessica rested her ample curves in a matching chintz armchair, bright purple, however, in contrast to Samantha’s bright pink, she tilted her head back against the rest and murmured, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten,” she warned. Her chestnut eyes were serious. Her lips mutinous. “I don’t like this. You’re putting yourself in a dangerous man’s pocket.”
Samantha couldn’t stop herself from snorting. “He’s not in the mob, Jess.” And her friend really didn’t know the danger Samantha had been in before...
“No, but he might as well be. You know how those international conglomerates work. Everything is so linked, that the network is tangled.”
“You’ve been watching too many Facebook videos about anti-capitalism,” Samantha accused, wagging her finger at Jessica as she leaned forward to grab the cookie Jessica had tucked onto the saucer holding her coffee mug.
“No. I haven’t. I shared that photo with you. The one that shows how few corporations actually exist in the world? They’re all owned by the same people. They just have different names so they seem separate, but they’re not. Mr Lewis’s Stradi Group is one of those corporations. When I was reading it, I noticed it because hell, how could I not? I know someone who actually knows him.”
Samantha narrowed her eyes at Jessica as she tried not to wince at the flaxseed cookie. How people ate this stuff was beyond her, but she had to admit, it was good for the environment so she always took some home for Erin to have as a treat.
If he was raised with this crap, he wouldn’t know that things like Oreos existed.
Yum, Oreos.
Mouth-watering enough to let her swallow the damn cookie down, Samantha grumbled, “What do you want me to do, Jess? Lose Erin to those bottom feeders?”
“No,” Jessica said on a sigh. She reached up to curl one of her lustrous corkscrew locks around her finger. In contrast to Samantha’s deadly dull, straighter than straight hair, it was a vibrant and vivacious display of abundance.
Samantha was always jealous of Jess’s hair.
“Then, what?” Samantha shrugged. “What can I do?”
“Anything apart from get into bed with the devil.” She took a sip of her coffee, then mumbled, “Surely there’s somebody else who could help?”
“Nobody that Frank and Janice respect more than Josh. And even then, they don’t respect him that much. Remember, I told you they thought we were having an affair.”
Jessica chuckled. “Yeah, I always thought that was the dumbest thing ever. I mean, really, they only had to see the two of you together to know you were piss scared of him.”
Samantha scowled. “I wasn’t scared of him.” Dammit, why wasn’t Jess letting that drop?
Jess was way off base with this, but it was hard to explain because she had been scared, scared of Jamie. Jess had picked up on all the right vibes but had attached them to the wrong guy.
“You totally were. You were so nervous whenever I saw you together.”
“I think you saw me with them once.”
And that had been by accident. Jessica had run into them after a date at a very swanky restaurant Josh had insisted on taking her and Jamie to to celebrate their third-year anniversary.
Some women might have thought it was odd for a guy’s best friend to tag along on an anniversary date—Samantha had just been happy to share Jamie’s attention and not be the full recipient of it.
Ironically enough, that had been the only decent anniversary meal she’d ever had with her husband.
Go figure.
“Once, and that was mostly because, you know…” Samantha winced.
“Jamie wouldn’t have approved of me.”
“Well, you know what he was like.”
Jessica snorted. “Racist?”
“Well, yeah. That. But also, you know… He didn’t approve of feminists.”
“Women with a voice. Look, I know he was your husband, and I’m sorry you lost him, but ugh. The guy could be so small-minded sometimes.”
Hah! Like Jessica needed to tell her that!
“He was very close-minded, that’s for sure. And I wasn’t ashamed of you. Genuinely, I wasn’t,” Samantha insisted, when Jess shot her a wry look. “Just, Jamie could be very draining. In a fight, he used to get louder and louder, and shout more and more until I just had to kowtow or fear for my damn eardrums.” That was about as PC as she could make it. “Dealing with that wasn’t worth the hassle. I wasn’t going to stop being friends with you, so if I had to keep you a secret…” She shrugged. “I saw no reason to clue him in.”
“See no evil, hear no evil, eh?” Jessica teased, and Samantha was relieved her friend wasn’t offended.
“Yeah.”
Jessica had no idea how bang on the money she was!
“Josh isn’t like that though, is he?”
Samantha shrugged. “Don’t know. Wouldn’t matter if he was. Like I said. This is all show.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jessica grumbled. “Why would he get involved? Surely he’d be on Frank and Janice’s side?”
“I don’t know why he’s agreed to help me. Just that he has. And I’m very grateful.”
“He might be playing games with you, Sam. Be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”
Because the words definitely came from the heart, she shot her friend a warm smile. “I kn
ow. And I appreciate the fact you give a damn.”
“Of course, I do,” Jessica countered. “You’re my friend.”
Samantha bit her lip, because she knew Jess was unaware of how much that mattered to her. “Still, thanks,” she whispered croakily, and reached for her coffee to hide the tremor in her mouth.
“All I’m saying is that if the dude does have a Red Room, then I want pictures.”
Almost spraying out the sickly coffee onto Jessica’s pretty cream dress, Sam whacked her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she garbled, then pealed off into laughter.
She’d needed this visit. Badly.
Chapter 7
Josh
“I don’t trust her.”
“What’s not to trust?” Josh was half-listening to his mother. The Bluetooth earpiece was a blessing when it came time to talking with her.
The chore didn’t happen often, and it was never instigated by him. Elizabeth had a nasty habit of going on and on, getting nowhere, and making Josh’s ears burn. Not only with rage from the crap she spewed, but also from the phone being pressed to his ear.
Well, that was before.
Thank goodness for technology.
That whole, ‘necessity is the mother of invention’ crap? Josh was sure most modern pieces of kit had been created just for moments like these.
Grinning at the thought, he peered down at the velvet tray in front of him. Lined with rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds, he wondered why the singular pearl amid the lot of them called to him.
In his world, the engagement ring a man gave his woman was as big a sign of prestige as the car he drove or the penthouse he lived in. It was proof positive that he’d made it.
The diamonds and other precious gems reflected that. The ten-carat canary yellow had caught his attention at first. It would suit Samantha’s creamy skin and sit quite nicely on her hand.
But it was the pearl that kept on drawing his gaze back to it.
It was simple, demure, and very, very elegant. He pictured Samantha’s hand and knew it would suit her perfectly.
Trouble was, the fact he could summon an image of Samantha’s slender pianist fingers disturbed him.
A lot.
Josh could barely remember his last date’s tits, never mind her hand!
Still, he tried to reassure himself that he’d seen her a lot over the duration of her marriage to Jamie. That had to explain it.
“Josh, are you even listening?”
“I’m half-listening,” he countered his mother’s squeak of outrage. “When you have something decent to say, I’ll reply.”
He was purposely biting with Elizabeth. To an outsider, he knew he probably seemed hard. Cruel, almost. But the truth was, Elizabeth deserved nothing less.
She’d been an absentee mother most of his childhood, only deciding to pop up into his life when he’d made his first billion.
That was no kind of mother, and as a result, he granted her the only right she deserved—some of his time. Not a lot of it. It was too precious, and he was too busy. But some of it was all she damn well deserved.
Elizabeth gritted out, “I care about you. That’s why I’m talking to you about this matter.”
“You’re trying to talk me out of something that has nothing to do with you.”
“You’re my son. I care.”
He couldn’t withhold his snort. “Since when? You care when your check might be a day late, and you care when it concerns you—because maybe, just maybe, if Samantha’s involved in my life she might convince me to cut you off for the greedy, penny-pinching bitch you are? Is that it?”
She choked off a curse. “You’ll regret speaking to me this way one day.”
“Will I? You know I don’t like lies and falsehoods, mother. With you, I can be very, very honest with my intentions. I pay you maintenance because it keeps you quiet. Don’t mistake it for my giving a damn about you. Without my money, and having spent what dad gave you, you’d be out on the street. Rather than bitching at me, maybe you should think about a different style of approach.”
Silence fell at his words. “Do you realize how hurtful you are sometimes?”
“I can only hurt someone who genuinely gives a damn about me. You don’t give a damn about anyone save yourself.”
“That isn’t true!”
“It’s nothing but the truth,” Josh said drily. “Don’t think you can BS me. You’re only interested in what I can give you, and that’s fine. Truly, it is.” And it was. “When you’re after my money, I know where we stand. And whether or not I stay engaged and ultimately marry Samantha, has nothing to do with you. And she’ll have no say over your maintenance. When have you known anyone to influence me where money’s concerned?”
“She’s a gold-digger,” Elizabeth asserted, apparently not having heard a thing he’d said.
“Change the record or the next time you call, I won’t pick up.” He cut the line, uncaring that she was still squawking and pointed to the pearl ring.
The assistant, a blonde woman about ten years his junior, stared at him wide-eyed. Maybe he’d come across as harsh with his mother, especially in front of an audience, but, well, Elizabeth was no mother.
Samantha was a mother.
He’d seen her with Erin.
She mopped his snotty nose, gave a shit about the crap drawings he gave her and made a fuss about pinning them on a board in her damn-awful kitchen. The living room was for family, not for show. There were toys everywhere, but not in a messy way. In a way that declared this was a room for a child, and the child was loved and at the center of the house.
He knew the difference because he’d been raised the exact opposite.
He’d known he’d been a nuisance.
A mistake.
Of course, it had been a fruitful mistake on his mother’s behalf.
His father, a rich property tycoon, already married, had always paid for Josh’s care and upkeep, and had maintained Elizabeth in a very luxurious manner until Josh had left for college.
Surprisingly enough, he had a better relationship with his father than his mother. Josh hadn’t even met the man until he was ten, when Adam Martin’s wife and he had divorced, and he could finally claim Josh without it triggering a clause in his prenup agreement with his ex.
Despite all that, Josh liked his father. Though he’d never been publicly claimed by him, his early years had been funded by the man when he could have avoided paying a dime. Then, at ten, he’d introduced Josh to his parents and those grandparents had been the first bit of real family he’d ever had.
If Adam Martin had done nothing else for his son, it was enough that he’d introduced him to his grandparents.
Then, when his grandfather had died, leaving him a substantial inheritance, Josh had started Stradi, and from tiny acorns, a mighty oak had definitely grown.
His father had done a lot for him, his mother had used him. Had used Josh’s blood tie to Adam to get by. She’d not been a pauper herself, but things had changed after the stock market crash in 08. Her decent-sized savings from years on cashing in on the maintenance his father paid, had halved thanks to her mismanagement—even after he’d recommended a financial advisor.
The woman really was her own worst enemy.
Grumbling under his breath, and uncaring that the blonde assistant was gawking at him like an ogre, he growled out, “The pearl ring? May I see it?”
At his prompt, the woman jolted, but she rushed to hand him the ring from the velvet bed.
He studied the flawless pearl, eyed the tiny opals that were arranged in a fire burst around the large ball—my my, it was even more exquisite in the flesh and it would suit Samantha down to a tee.
A sound bustled from the door, and he turned to see what the fuss was. Jacobsons was an exclusive jeweler. The silent atmosphere belonged in a museum, that was how quiet it was.
Perhaps, if not a museum, a library.
The walls were hallowed, paneled with a rich mahogany
like a jewelers of old. The glass cabinets were antique, but very well maintained, it was like they’d been made yesterday and produced to appear old.
He liked it here. He tended to send his PA here to buy his mother gifts, and if he was breaking up with a particularly good mistress—one who was getting a little too comfortable with being on his arm at events—then he also had Ethan buy them something from this store.
Still, the noise was a nuisance, but when he saw its source, his annoyance turned to outright disbelief.
“Harold? What the hell?” He strode forward and reached for Samantha’s arm. She was struggling in his head of security’s hold. “What’s going on here?”
“This gorilla won’t let go of my arm!”
“That’s because she refused to get into the vehicle when I asked kindly.”
“I had to go to Erin’s playschool, you moron!” The shout was hollered at both Josh and the guard.
“You’ve arranged for someone to collect him?” Josh demanded quickly.
“I handled that,” Harold inserted.
“A stranger is going to collect my son from playschool,” she spat. “That’s no solution. Not in my eyes.”
No, he could see that, and her firebrand anger, when he’d only ever seen her calm—and recently, despondent—was so refreshing that, so help him, he felt his cock stir at the sight of her.
This was no regular rage. It was that of a tigress fighting for her cub, and it surged through his blood with a ferocity that bewildered him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” Josh said a little stiffly, mostly because he was in the wrong, but also because he was dealing with these weird fluctuations in his body that were bewildering him.
Josh maintained a strong hold on his self-control. It was the only way a man could reach his lofty heights without floundering. Every moment of his day was itemized—and on his personal schedule, one that Ethan didn’t see—he even listed when he’d be having sex and how long he could allot to the task.
Sex for Josh was a physical release. It was like exercise for another man. He scheduled it because it was important to keep himself refreshed, but just like doing a push-up, it could get tedious with the same woman.
Believing Her: An Enemies to Lovers Fake Fiancé Romance Page 5
