• • •
“She took a swing at you?” Matt howled with laughter into his ear. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s not funny.” Sam looked down at the puncture wound in his right palm where the diamond of her ring had left a red mark. His male pride was bruised. If he hadn’t caught her fist he would be picking his teeth up off the floor instead of contending with a bloody hand.
He headed for the washroom to wash his hand, not wanting to mess up her pristine white counter. The washroom like the rest of the condo was white with red accents from the picture frames; to the glass bottles filled with soap shaped in seashells. There was a sit down vanity with an oval mirror and a sitting area in washroom. Oh yeah, that made perfect sense. Why wouldn’t you bring the party into the washroom?
“Are you finished?” Matt was still laughing.
Turning on the tap, Sam ran his hand under the warm water. He didn’t want to use her white towel. Surely she had to have paper towel. That’s what he used in his washroom. He bent to open the cupboard under the sink and there he found cotton balls in a crystal bowl. Cotton balls in a crystal bowl, why not. He balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder. In the absence of paper towel toilet paper would do just fine. Tearing off several sheets, he wrapped it around his palm.
“You probably deserved it too,” Matt said laughter in his voice.
Maybe he did, but did she have to draw blood? Initially he’d wanted to sit down with Princess to go over her schedule for tomorrow. Most of the day was blocked off for something called Gala Org. Since that event was at some swanky hotel then maybe they could get the time to sit down and talk about his plans, which would also include self-defense. It didn’t look like it was going to happen tonight. When she slammed the door, a mirror on the wall in the hallway fell off the wall and shattered. Not a good sign.
“She rubs me the wrong way,” he grumbled.
“Is that all?”
No, that’s not all. But what was he supposed to say? He had the hots for Princess and to take the edge off, he kept goading her. If he got her mad enough then she would tick him off and so on and so on. Therefore, since he was mad he wouldn’t have time to be attracted to her. It made perfect sense to him—if he lived on Mars maybe.
“What’s this Gala Org thing she has all over her calendar?”
“A fundraising event she’s organizing. It’s at that hotel on Central Park Drive. They have it there every year. Talk to Ralph Hanes. He’s head of security at the hotel.” Matt rambled off a telephone number.
“Wait, let me get a pen.” Sam hurried to the living room to grab pen and paper to write down the number. Before he did that, he detoured to the kitchen and ripped two sheets of paper towel, wrapping it around his hand.
“Try not to kill each other,” Matt laughed and hung up.
Sam left the phone and the number on the kitchen counter. He picked up the roll of paper towel and returned to the washroom.
“I didn’t mean to do that.”
He looked up and through the mirror, he saw Princess standing at the washroom door. The red carpet out fit was replaced with a white velour tracksuit covering her soft curves. Her face was scrubbed free of makeup and her hair hung in ringlets around her face. She stood there staring at him, all innocent, as if she hadn’t tried to take his head off earlier.
“Is that an apology?”
“I meant to hit you.” Her lip curled into a smile, gloating. “It wasn’t my intention to draw blood.” She looked at the sheet of paper towel dotted with blood on the sink. He thought he saw a flicker of concern in her eyes. Nope, no concern—just gloating.
“Oh, that’s okay then. Was there something you wanted?” Sam went back to tending his wound…a wound that should have stopped bleeding five minutes ago, but for some bizarre reason didn’t want to. Having Princess standing there gloating was like adding salt to the wound.
“I wanted to talk about tomorrow so we’re on the same page.”
He turned off the tap, flashing the water from his hands. She moved into the washroom and picked up the roll of paper towel. She graciously ripped a sheet of paper towel and handed it to him.
“What page would that be,Princess?”
She pursed her lips, but didn’t rise to his bait. “I chair the fundraising committee for Robyn’s Nest Foundation.”
“Rich people raising money for rich people. How rich?” He mocked.
His pride was hurt while he bled like a stuck pig. Having her in the bathroom next to a loveseat across from the bathtub, with visions of them doing the love dance in his head and knowing that it would never happen, got under his skin. He had to take it out on someone and since she’d thrown the first punch, she got the honors.
She drew in a sharp intake of breath ignoring his comment. “I’ve a million things to do tomorrow at the hotel with the committee. How am I going to do it with you tagging along behind me like a dog?”
“I have it covered. As long as you do as I say we won’t have a problem. And, I promise, I won’t bite.”
After another sharp intake of breathe she asked, “What do I say when people ask who you are?”
“Tell them I’m the hired help or the spurned lover. Take your pick. I’m here to do a job and if it inconveniences you, so be it. Your life is worth saving, isn’t it?”
She abruptly turned to leave the washroom then stopped as if she’d forgotten something and turned to face him once again.
“Sam?”
“Yes?” He looked down at her and she had a smile on her face, a sexy smile. You know—that smile a woman gave to a man when she wanted to fulfill all his fantasies.
She moved into the washroom slowly. He actually stopped breathing when she stood on the tips of her toes to reach his ear. She reached up and snaked her arm around his neck. Her was breath hot on his cheek and he closed his eyes. Waiting.
“I lied,” she whispered. “I meant to draw blood.”
Chapter Five
Alexandria yawned and pushed herself up out of the bed. The bedroom was her oasis. The calming blues and tans created a peaceful atmosphere. Her father had purchased the condo, but she had chosen the colors and decorated it herself.
The wood of the bed and the night tables complimented the warm tones of the room to create a perfect hide away. When she didn’t want to watch TV in the living room, the separate seating area in the bedroom made it more than just a place to sleep.
It was a beautiful sunny day and Sam’s laughter broke into her peaceful oasis. He must be on the phone. So much for a beautiful day, she mumbled as she made her way to the connecting washroom.
The score was tied. Last night Sam had asserted his authority and she’d missed dinner with Robyn. She drew blood. It wasn’t something she was proud of but he had it coming.
An apology was in order this morning and she had to find it in herself to give it even if she choked on it. Violence was not in her nature, but the man had a habit of getting her all riled up. He did it on purpose.
Today was a new day. It was Sam O’Malley’s last day to torment her. She had been ditching bodyguards since the tender age of twelve, and she knew how to handle Sam. Perhaps she should make her apology when she said her goodbyes.
After a long shower and a tour through her walk-in closet, she found the perfect outfit to begin her torment. It was a one shoulder white dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. When she stepped in high-heeled red sandals she was ready for round two and had no intention of losing.
She opened her bedroom door and walked out with confidence. Sam was at the counter in the kitchen looking at her laptop. Whatever it was that was on the screen had caught his eyes. The look on his face was intense. He didn’t even know she was standing there watching him, but she noticed him all right. Black T-shirt that hugged his torso, and jeans, even though they weren’t the designer brand name, they put the designer brand name to shame. In his case, it wasn’t the clothes that made the man. It was the man that made the cl
othes.
“Are you ready to leave?” She asked annoyed.
Sam glanced up from the computer as if she appeared out of nowhere and with a deep dark scowl on his face. He gave her a once over and not even so much as a muscle twitch came from him that’s of course if you didn’t count the scowl. Perhaps she should have said good morning first. Her whole ‘getting-even-routine’ thing was wasted on him.
“Have a look at this. It’s the specs for the hotel I requested. Ralph Hanes, head of security for the hotel sent it to me. I had your meeting moved into one of the smaller boardrooms. Here’s the floor plan.”
He turned the computer toward her so she could see. His hair was still wet. He smelled of soap and it wasn’t anything she had in her washroom. This was very male, something spicy.
“Here is where you’ll be.” Sam tapped the screen and it indented slightly. “There is a washroom here, around the corner. There are two entrances into the meeting room. I’ve asked that they lock the second door, which leads out into the main hallway. That leaves only one way in and out. I’ll be stationed here at the entrance. No one gets in or out without my knowing. The only weak area I can see is the washroom. It’s too open, but it won’t be a problem if you inform me of when you need to go. I’ll get a female security guard to accompany you. Hanes arranged it.” He closed the laptop. “Any questions?”
“I see you’re earning every penny of daddy’s money.” That was hitting below the belt, but why should her heart be the only one racing a mile a minute. All that time she’d spent on her production and he didn’t even bat an eye.
“At least I’m doing something for it.” Sam left her standing at the counter and headed for his room. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
• • •
The woman was going to drive him to drink, Sam thought as he snagged a towel from the rack in the washroom and began to towel dry his hair. He’d just stepped out of the shower when Hanes had returned his call. He’d wanted to set a plan in motion before her Highness woke up.
Sam knew when she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway she was ready for round two. The thoughts that raced through his mind, he had seriously considered going to confession. On a sobering thought, Sam decided he didn’t need a priest; he needed an exorcist to get her off his mind.
“You’re a professional,” he reminded himself in the mirror. He had to keep reminding himself because she had a habit of getting under his skin. Yanking the wet T-shirt over his head, he reached for another, shrugged into his tan jacket and was ready to meet Princess.
Sam had a feeling the day was about to get interesting. He made sure he had everything when he left the bedroom…keys…gun…and a stack of patience. Patience was right up there on the list next to breathing.
“After you,” she said sweetly and passed him when he opened the front door, brushing against him. Her fragrance, her trademark musk, assaulted his senses.
Oh yeah, it was definitely going to be an interesting day.
• • •
Sam had never seen anything like it before, Alexandria could tell as his eyes glazed over when they pulled up but he said nothing to her. The hotel was described as a castle on top of a hill. Set on about five hundred acres of the most beautiful landscaped garden in Orlando, it was ideal for the Foundation’s gala.
She fit right in but saw when he looked down at his attire. Was that a hint of regret that flashed in his eyes, she couldn’t tell. He had a poker face and she could never tell what he was thinking.
He told Alexandria he had a private spot where Hanes told him to park when she asked to be let out at the front entrance.
Sam was all business when he parked and pulled the key from the ignition. The man she’d been in constant conflict with since they met had vanished. In its place a leader with strength and confidence emerged. He knew what he was doing. He did a sweep of the parking area before he got out. She had to admit she did feel safer with him around, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She just wanted to get the committee meeting over with. Since she’d given Sam a list of the committee members and he’d cleared them with Matt, the meeting was good to go.
The Robyn’s Nest Gala Committee consisted of six other members, all socialites and married to rich husbands. The best designers fashions were on display—Dior, Channel, Lagerfeld, Wang, Spade…all perfectly draped around her fellow members’ bodies.
Alexandria had brought these ladies together because she knew they could raise the money needed for the Foundation. They needed ten million dollars and these ladies were up for the task. Last year they hadn’t accomplished their goal but with the new members and her at the helm, she expected to meet or exceed the target number this year.
Sam didn’t seem to care for the ladies. He had brought her to a room that mimicked a boardroom decorated in heavy wood and large high back executive chairs. He reiterated the instructions he rambled off in the kitchen earlier and again after they had exited the SUV. How could she forget?
“Alexandria, pay attention,” he said, when one of the committee members waved at her and she waved back.
“I heard you in the kitchen and when we got out of the vehicle ten minutes ago. I’m not deaf. I stay put in the room and don’t go anywhere without you. Anything else?”
He looked at her hard then abruptly turned on his heels and left the room. He didn’t say where he was going but she knew he wouldn’t be far away.
“My, my,” Rebecca, a thin, thirty-five year old blond said, fanning herself with her hand. “Who is that eye candy?” She leaned her head to stared at Sam’s behind as he walked away. “Is he yours?”
Alexandria didn’t care much for Rebecca. She was on husband number five who had just celebrated his eightieth birthday. With the amount of plastic surgery Rebecca had, funded by her husbands, she didn’t think the woman had any of the original body parts God had given her. The thought of her getting her hands on Sam was unsettling.
“He’s taken. Can we get on with our meeting?” She took the seat at the head of the table and called the meeting to order.
The morning flew by without any of them agreeing on anything except for the formal dance. They couldn’t decide on a theme because Rebecca kept steering the conversation back to Sam. Rebecca wanted to know where they met and why she had kept him a secret.
“My personal life is not on the agenda, Rebecca. Can we get back to what is actually on the agenda?”
“Someone didn’t get any last night,” Rebecca smiled.
Lunch was brought in at noon with Sam following closely behind the staff as they laid out the food on the boardroom table in front of them. He probably tasted everything on the menu she thought to herself. God forbid if she should die on his watch.
Rebecca asked him to join them. He declined politely and left with the staff. By the end of the afternoon they had decided upon a fairy tale theme and music from the Motown era.
“Are you sure about Motown?” Alexandria said to Michelle. She reminded Alexandria of a young Lena Horne. “Somehow fairy tale and Motown don’t go hand in hand to me.”
“With the amount of money my husband and I are contributing to this event, we better have some music we can dance to. The band that played Bark last year, not impressed.” She waved her forefinger through the air.
“It’s Bach,” Rebecca chuckled. “Johann Sebastian Bach. The gala had a classical theme, remember?”
“Well,” Michelle addressed the committee, “Bach is out and Motown is in.”
“Amen to that,” Sahara said, pushing her braids over her shoulders. “All in favor?”
“Since no one objects, Motown it is,” Alexandria said with a laugh, watching Rebecca tease Michelle about being musically illiterate.
The meeting ended with Alexandria agreeing to finalize the catering menu with the hotel.
Alexandria didn’t see Sam when she exited the boardroom and rushed to the washroom wanting to return before he got back. The washroom was just around the cor
ner. If she returned before he got back then there would be no reason to tell him.
The hotel spared no expense on the washroom décor. From the black marble floor to the glass bowl sinks, every thing was about detail. She entered the stall, closed the door and the lights went out. Her heart was beating so loud she could hear it in the dark.
The washroom door opened and she saw a sliver of light from under the stall then darkness. She heard footsteps. Someone had entered the washroom. She opened the stall door. It could be Sam, but why would he turn out the lights. Perhaps he wanted to frighten her to teach her a lesson. Let it be him she prayed silently.
“Sam?”
“He can’t save you.” The voice was muffled. The smell of sweat and alcohol overpowered her senses and made her nauseous. “You belong to me.”
Fear like nothing she’d ever felt before cloaked itself around her to the point of suffocation.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t scream.
Something wet hit her chest splashing in her face. It tasted odd. She was pushed to the floor; her hand went down breaking her fall. Footsteps ran away from her. The door opened and a sliver of light came in and it was dark once again.
Alexandria crawled to the door feeling her way up the wall until she found the handle and the light came on. The handle of the door was covered with blood. The floor and the wall where she pulled herself up also covered with blood. She was drenched in it and fought the urge to scream, stumbling from the washroom. When she stepped out into the hallway she heard someone screaming. It could have been her but she wasn’t sure.
Sam came around the corner with Hanes, a tall husky man. He raised his thick eyebrows in horror when he saw Alexandria.
“What the hell happened?” Hanes reached out to touch her and she backed away. “Are you okay?”
Guests exited their meeting rooms rushing out into the hallway. People rushed around her screaming, all talking at once. They were even talking to her but she couldn’t speak. It was as though she was trapped inside her body looking at the world reacting around her.
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