by Judi Fennell
Robert adjusted the fez on his head. “None of that eggplant stuff, Samantha. Never could stand rabbit food. Give me a good cut of steak anytime.”
Which she could do since she’d ordered a the table of American fare for those who weren’t into being adventurous.
“Oh.” Robert fumbled with the side slit in his djellaba and pulled a crumpled letter from his pants pocket. “Here. Monty gave me this a long time to go to give to you. He wanted you to have it today. At his, er, party.” He exchanged it for the plate she offered him. “Good man, your dad. We’re going to miss him. Things just won’t be the same.”
Samantha pasted a smile on her face, thanked Robert, and managed not to stumble away.
Not be the same? Did he think she didn’t know that? Or was he already writing her off as head of the company?
Not that she could blame him, really. She felt a little guilty about that. Okay, a lot guilty. Dad had left her the company and she was letting Albert run it.
She tapped the letter against her palm. She wasn’t sure she wanted to read this. Especially tonight. And definitely not without Albert around to pick up the pieces. Speaking of… Where was he?
Tucking the letter into her skirt pocket, Samantha dodged the circle of people around the sword swallower and headed into the kitchen.
“You might want to try upstairs,” said Wanda when Samantha asked her if she’d seen Albert. “Maybe he’s taking a nap. You know how hard he’s been working.”
Albert had been at the office almost every night for the past six months, sometimes into the early hours of the morning. Dad had never put that much time in. Maybe it was the learning curve.
She’d been so thankful he’d stepped in and taken charge. She’d been so busy worrying about Dad and keeping up with the charities she was involved with that, frankly, her learning curve would have been steeper than Albert’s. At least he knew the mechanics involved with building high-end cars; Samantha only knew how to drive them.
She headed down the guest corridor to the room Albert used when he stayed here. He’d refused it, of course, when she’d first offered it to him. He didn’t need the biggest room, he’d said. It’d been one of the things she’d liked best about him. He’d even tried to refuse the wardrobe she’d bought him, and the country club and spa memberships she’d given him on his birthday.
He’d only reluctantly agreed when she’d pointed out that she couldn’t authorize a pay raise for him without board approval, but since he was acting the part, he ought to look it, so he ought to take what she offered. The fact that he’d refused each thing she’d tried to give him or do for him had only endeared him to her. Here was the first guy who wasn’t after her money. He wanted her for her.
Maybe someday she’d feel the same way toward him.
Shaking off that thought, Samantha stopped at the door to the suite beside the main staircase and tapped the envelope against her lips. She cared for Albert. He might not be her knight in shining armor, but not every part of the fairy tale could come true. It was enough that he wasn’t after anything more from her than making a life together. She might not have what her parents had had, but then, how many people did? She was an adult and well past the age of believing in fairy tales. Albert would be her family now.
Samantha tapped her lip one more time with the envelope and was just about to walk into the room when she heard Albert’s voice in a tone she’d never heard before. One that would send shivers down her back if she was the recipient of his conversation. And then she heard her name and shivers did run down her back.
She turned the well-oiled handle—Dad had always made sure everything worked smoothly, both at the company and at home—and tiptoed into the sitting room.
“Trust me, Henley,” Albert… sneered. “Daddy’s little girl is useless. On all fronts. Run the company? Her old man must have had another stroke back when he had that will drawn up. She’s incapable. Inept. Hell, she doesn’t even have a clue what I’m up to. She doesn’t have a clue about anything, so as soon as this memorial thing is over, I’ll get my ring on her finger and my hands on the contents of that safe. Then you’ll get your money.”
Samantha couldn’t breathe.
Useless? Incapable? Inept? That’s what he thought of her? Where was the undying love? The support? The ’til-death-do-us-part part that he’d been badgering her about?
She jerked the djellaba’s hood from her head. Maybe… maybe she’d just misheard him.
Oh, come on, Samantha, misheard? Do you really need him to spell it out any clearer? The guy’s out for your money. Wake up and smell the hookah.
Samantha shook her head. Hookah?
She shook her head again. Why was she worrying about some random word when Albert was in there… saying… what he was saying…
“Trust me, Henley. I know how the old man did it and I can do it, too. Better. Bigger. You’ll get your money, and I’ll throw in a one-of-a-kind set of wheels free of charge.” Albert laughed a cold, conniving laugh that Samantha would never, in four thousand years, attribute to him. “No, I’m not shitting you. Just sit tight. I’m planning to pop the question when this ridiculous party is over. I’ll convince the tub-o-lard to elope. Two days. Three at the most. Then you’ll get your money and can get the hell off my back.”
Oh. God. Albert was after her money.
She shouldn’t be surprised; he certainly wasn’t the first. But he should be different. This was the guy who’d been talking marriage and babies and retirement plans.
Oh.
She was Albert’s retirement plan.
She couldn’t listen anymore. Ridiculous party? Old man? Her father had liked Albert. He’d said Albert had a bright future ahead of him at the company so he couldn’t be after her money. Not like her other boyfriends. But this… this cut the deepest.
Samantha headed toward the door, thanking her father for his insistence on having the best of everything so her footsteps were muffled in the carpet’s thick pile. Albert would never know she’d been there.
She’d gone six steps when she stopped.
How dare he talk about her like that.
How dare he talk about her like that to someone else.
How dare he even think about her like that.
And how dare he not know who she really was.
Samantha clutched her stomach, the pain already knotting her insides. How did she not see this? How did she not know?
When would she ever learn?
Sniffing back a sob, she was about to leave when, suddenly, she realized that she had learned. She knew how she wanted to be treated—how she deserved to be treated. And this wasn’t it.
Albert was not going to get away with treating her this way.
Samantha spun around and tore off the djellaba. She was going to face Albert as herself, not hiding behind some stone-like façade as she’d done every other time the truth had come out about a guy she’d been dating.
She didn’t have long to wait because Albert almost ran into her coming out of the bedroom.
“Samantha?” He paled a little beneath the tan he refreshed once a week at the spa—using the membership he’d so gallantly tried to refuse. “Darling, I thought you were at the party.”
“I’ll bet you did.” Samantha folded the djellaba and laid it on the back of the love seat. Oh, her earring. It must have come off when she’d yanked off the hood.
She picked it up and put it back on. “Who’s Henley?”
Albert’s poker face slid into place. “I’m sorry. Who?”
“Don’t patronize me, Albert. Who’s Henley and what deal do you have going with him?”
“Samantha. Darling. You’re distraught. It’s understandable, given how close you were with your father. You’re not thinking clearly. What, did the fortune-teller not show up?”
Samantha cursed. In Sumerian. And she had no idea how she knew the word or that it was Sumerian, but right now, she didn’t care. “Don’t change the subject, Albert. My thinking i
s perfectly clear. My hearing’s pretty damn good, too. Tub-o-lard? Elope? Does that ring any bells for you?”
She almost wished they were engaged so she could throw the ring in his face.
“Samantha, please.” He gripped her arm. “Let’s sit down and discuss this like rational adults—”
She yanked her arm free. “That would mean I’d have to be rational and you’d have to be an adult, and frankly, I’m not feeling very rational right now, Albert. I’d rather pitch a huge fit and let everyone know what a damned two-faced liar you are. But I have too much respect for my father’s memory to do that, so let’s keep this between you and me. We’re finished. Don’t call me, don’t try to see me, and consider every membership, credit card, and restaurant table canceled. We’re through.” She spun around and started to walk away.
“Samantha, darling. You don’t mean that—”
“Yes I do.” She turned around, strode back across the room, and poked him in the chest. “Oh, and you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me.”
“I most certainly can.”
“I don’t report to you.”
“Um… Owner?”
“Shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“And another thing.” She poked him again. “You’re a selfish pig of a lover. And not a very good one, either.”
Albert was going to have to go to a month’s worth of tanning sessions to reclaim the color he lost at her statement—oh, but he couldn’t. She grinned. She was canceling his membership.
And she’d let him wonder how she knew about his sexual inadequacies. She’d be wondering that herself, actually.
She stormed out of the room, giving the door a satisfying slam behind her.
“Samantha?” Wanda’s voice echoed up the stairs. “There’s a problem outside. The caterer needs you.”
Great, she didn’t even have the chance to deal with this situation and now she had another one.
Albert yanked the door open. “Samantha—”
She held up her hand. “I have a party to attend to.” At least it gave her something to do other than break down in a puddle of tears in Dad’s office.
Patting her pocket where Dad’s letter would just have to wait, Samantha took a deep breath and headed down the stairs.
David was waiting for her in the foyer. “Honestly, Samantha, I don’t understand it. I don’t know where the breakdown in communication happened and no one’s admitting to setting it up. And I have no idea who the guy is who’s taken up shop inside.”
“Calm down, David. What are you talking about?”
“There’s a tent out there.”
“There are a lot of tents out there. That’s what I ordered, remember?”
David waved his hands. “I know I know I know. I’m talking about the other tent. The orange one. And the guy inside it is refusing to budge until he speaks to you.”
“An orange tent? I thought we agreed on blue?”
“You see my problem.” David smoothed the arch of his eyebrow. “You have to speak to him so I can get him to pack up. I’ll eat the labor costs, of course.”
She patted David’s arm. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. I’ll handle it.”
“Good. Because the acrobats are having issues so I have to deal with them. You’re a love, Samantha.” David air-kissed her cheeks and was off to put out another fire.
***
The tent was definitely orange, but it was far enough from the others and behind the copse of pomegranate trees her father had planted in Mom’s memory that Samantha realized why she hadn’t seen it earlier.
Straightening her shoulders and fortifying herself with a deep breath, Samantha pulled back the fabric that covered the opening.
Brass lanterns hung from the posts, plush rugs covered the floor, and comfortable sofas and cushions were spread throughout the tent, the same as the rest at the party.
The guy standing before her, however, was nothing like anything else at the party.
“Hello, Samantha.”
He knew her? Interesting, because she didn’t know him and she definitely would have remembered meeting him.
“Um, hi?”
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
That wasn’t a question you could bluff your way out of. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t.”
He took a step closer. “Yes, you do, Sam. I know you do. You have to. Think, Sam. Really hard.”
He was so intent. So intense. So gorgeous.
Samantha scoffed at herself. Was she one to be swayed by a pretty face?
But she was swaying. And her hormones were dancing. Her thighs tingling.
Her thighs were tingling?
She looked up at him again. Studied him from his gorgeous wavy hair to his warm, dark, melted-chocolate eyes. His high cheekbones and a perfectly formed set of lips that curved up at the corners. A killer set of abs framed by the open vest he wore, with an orange stone in the shape of an eagle on the chain at the base of his throat…
Wait. She recognized that stone.
Didn’t she?
Samantha shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Wishful thinking, that’s all. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. Where did we meet?”
“Izaaz.”
“Is what?”
He smiled then, and if he’d been gorgeous before, now he was devastating. A twinkle in his eye, the dimple in his cheek, the shape of his lips—
“You said that last time.”
“Last time?”
He reached for her hand. “You don’t remember.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I’m sorry, but you must have me confused with someone else.”
He cupped her cheek. “Someone else named Samantha?” He took a step closer and Samantha’s legs wouldn’t move to take one back. “With the most gorgeous green eyes on the planet and the hint of lilac clinging to her skin?” He leaned in a little closer, the web his words were weaving making her glad she wasn’t moving. “With that sexy beauty mark on her hip?”
Samantha let his words wash over her. She did have green eyes, but gorgeous? That was debatable. And as for the lilac body wash she wore, well, lots of women wore that.
That beauty mark, however…
“Which hip?” she whispered.
He stared at her mouth. “The left one.”
Oh, God, she did have a beauty mark on her left hip. How she wanted to be the Samantha this guy knew…
“Come on, Sam. Think. You know me. I know you know it.”
But she didn’t, and how sad was it that they both wanted her to but she didn’t?
Though… Sam. There was something about the way he called her that.
Samantha shook her head. Wishful thinking and, thanks to Albert, self-esteem that could really use this guy’s brand of pick-me-up.
She nibbled on her bottom lip, then took a deep breath. And a step to the side. “I’m sorry. I wish I could remember you, but I don’t.”
“What did you say?”
Samantha cocked her head. “Um, I wish I could remember you?”
When he smiled this time, it transformed his face—
Or maybe that happened when he waved his hand and it was as if a veil had been lifted.
She saw everything so much more clearly.
She saw Kal so much more clearly.
Kal. Who’d sent her home just as she’d asked.
Kal, who’d made her forget what had happened just as she’d asked.
Kal, who’d broken her heart.
“Kal.” It all came rushing back. Izaaz, Dirham, the leprechauns.
The pain. The disillusionment. The nasty reality.
How much more was she going to have to take today?
“You remember?”
She nodded. Yes, she did. Every single detail.
Why couldn’t he have let her forget?
She spun around to leave, but Kal grabbed her wrist—and held out the lantern pendant she’d left behin
d.
“Please, Sam, let me say this, and then if you still want to leave, I won’t stop you.”
She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.
But she did.
Because he was him. And because she was in love with him—well, had been in love with him.
He turned her hand over and placed his lantern in her palm. “When you picked it up from O’Malley and Paddy, you became my master again. And I can’t think of one I’d rather have.”
She shoved it back at him. “Take it, Kal. I don’t want it and I know you do. There. Be free. I wish it.”
Her voice hitched at the end. If only he’d come because he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of her life with her, she could have lived with that. But as an obligation?
No way.
Kal looked at the lantern, then at her. “Okay, so now I’m free. But it doesn’t matter because I’ve earned the job I wanted.”
“I’m happy for you, Kal. Truly. Enjoy your job and your magic.”
“I can’t.”
“What—”
He cupped her cheek again, and she let herself sink into it for a second.
“Because I love you, Sam.”
Those were the words she’d longed to hear but the last ones she thought he’d say. “You do? Why?”
“Why?” Kal looked taken aback, but, hey, if he’d been in her shoes, he’d understand.
She looked down at his feet. The curled slippers they’d both worn in Izaaz.
What had O’Malley said? Samantha didn’t have to struggle to remember, not with the way the memories were flooding her. She could see it as if it were yesterday. Actually, it might have been yesterday. Or today.
Samantha shook her head. When it was didn’t matter; the words were as clear as if O’Malley were standing right here, saying them all over again.
Genies cannot love mortals or they’ll lose their magic and immortality.
“Yes, Kal. Why? Why would you say that? Doesn’t that take your magic away?”
He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I don’t care.”
“But—”
“Sam, I realized something when you made that last wish that I was honor-bound to fulfill. I hated doing it. Hated knowing you’d be back here not remembering anything about me. About us. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life knowing that you wouldn’t remember.”
