by Lizzie Shane
“Mm, have I ever told you how much I adore your culinary skills?”
She snorted. “I’m only skilled compared to you. I never knew it was possible to burn water before I met you.”
“Yes, but I’m amazing at ordering pizza. You have to admit my take-out game is on point.”
“You are impressive at take out,” she conceded. “Now get off me so I can concentrate, unless you want your omelet blackened.”
“Are you saying I distract you?” He brushed the shell of her ear with his mouth as he spoke and Samira shivered.
“You know you do…”
“One kiss,” he coaxed. “One kiss and I’ll keep my hands to myself all the way through breakfast.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” His hands were even now sneaking under her t-shirt, teasing along the sensitive skin of her abdomen.
“One kiss…” His breath stirred the hair that had come loose from her knot.
“You’re a menace,” she complained, but she was turning her head over her shoulder as she spoke.
Their lips brushed, catching, but if she thought he was going to leave it at that she was fooling herself. He deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting between her lips, one of his hands coaxing her jaw open wider as the other continued to explore beneath her shirt. She stopped caring about the eggs—about anything other than the rhythmic persuasion of his mouth—
“Hello-oo.” The sing-song greeting accompanied a perfunctory knock as the front door was already opening, Aiden’s mother breezing inside as if she owned the place—and in a way she did.
Samira and Aiden leapt apart, but it was too late. Regina Montgomery-Raines had already gotten an eyeful. She jolted to a halt on the threshold, her expression freezing into place. “Aiden.”
Samira’s brain jabbered incoherently as she tugged on the hem of her shirt, her face flaming, and one thought blared loudly in her brain—they’d forgotten to lock the door last night.
Not that they needed to with all the security on the estate, but now that little oversight loomed large. Why hadn’t he thrown the bolt? If he’d just thrown the bolt, they would have had warning—
“Mother, it isn’t what it looks like.”
It isn’t? Samira yelled internally, but luckily only a small choking sound came out of her mouth.
“What’s going on?” Aiden’s father asked cheerfully as he appeared in the doorway behind his wife. “Are they interested in coming?”
Samira didn’t know where Aiden’s parents had planned on taking him and the girls, but from the expression on his mother’s face, that outing was no longer on offer.
Aiden’s father was no fool. He looked from his wife to his son and lifted a brow. “What did I miss?”
Aiden started to speak, but Regina got there first. “Aiden appears to be having an affair with his nanny,” she said baldly.
Aiden’s father’s expression didn’t change, but somehow the genial friendliness vanished, replaced by cautious concern. “I see.”
“It isn’t an affair,” Aiden said quickly. “We’re both single, consenting adults. Ask Samira. I haven’t taken advantage—”
Samira almost laughed—but there was nothing funny about the situation. She could already see that Aiden abusing his position as her boss was the farthest thing from his parents’ minds. He wasn’t the problem.
Her stomach flipped over and dove toward her toes on a nauseous roil.
She was the problem.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Are you trying to throw away your political career before it even begins?”
Aiden frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but at his side Samira stood a little straighter—the last vestiges of their caught-in-the-act guilt vanishing. “Mrs. Montgomery-Raines—”
Regina spoke over her, her voice harsh, looking straight at Aiden as if Samira wasn’t even there. “I’d like a word with my son in private.”
“There’s no reason to speak to her like that,” Aiden snapped. “Samira hasn’t done anything wrong. Neither of us has.”
“Let’s all calm down,” his father began, hands raised, ever the pacifist.
The scent of something burning hit his nostrils and Samira swore under her breath, spinning to the stove and the omelet that was now charred beyond recognition. She rushed to move the pan off the heat, but Aiden didn’t look away from his mother, staring her down.
“Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of her,” Aiden said, hanging onto his calm by a thread. His parents were looking at them as if they ought to be ashamed of themselves. Admittedly, this hadn’t been how he’d planned to tell them, but he wasn’t going to apologize.
“It’s okay,” Samira said softly, putting a hand on his arm. “I’ll go check on the girls.”
At her words, he became aware of the sounds of movement upstairs and his chest tightened. He tried to replay the conversation in his head, tried to figure out what they could have overheard, but all he could hear was the rough, angry tone of his own voice and the vicious bite of his mother’s.
Samira moved quickly up the stairs and half of him was grateful she was taking care of the girls while the other half felt like he’d been left to the wolves.
“What kind of name is Samira?” his mother asked before she was out of earshot.
All at once his mother’s irrational reaction started to make sense and Aiden’s anger sharpened to a new edge. “Iranian,” he bit out.
“Muslim?”
“Does it matter?”
His mother met his gaze stonily—he should have known she wouldn’t back down. She wasn’t built that way. Her voice was hard. “You know it does.”
“Aiden,” his father began in a more diplomatic tone. “Think about this. The world we live in—”
“This isn’t about the world. This is my life.”
“It’s your career,” his mother snapped. She took a breath, visibly composing herself. “How long has this been going on?”
“I won’t be scolded like a child,” he growled. “We haven’t done anything to be ashamed of.”
“If you truly believed that why would you lie about it?” his mother countered, her own voice rising to match his. “Two days ago you were telling me you’d had a change of plans and decided to bring the nanny instead of your date. Why hide her if you didn’t feel you’d done anything wrong?”
Because Samira had broken things off, but he didn’t want to give his mother any more ammunition. “I don’t have to explain myself—”
His mother’s gaze sharpened, a shark sensing blood in the water. “How well do you even know her?” she demanded, her voice icy as she stared up the stairs. “How do you know she’s not indoctrinating your children?”
His jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m only saying you can’t be too careful. How well do we know what’s going on in our own homes?”
“Listen to yourself!” he roared. “She’s been their nanny for years and her religion has never mattered—”
“Because you weren’t sleeping with her!”
He heard a thud upstairs and his gaze went to the ceiling. Shit. They were shouting. The girls could probably hear every word. Samira could hear every word. “I’m not discussing this here.”
He shoved past his mother and his father—who had fallen suspiciously silent. Did he not agree with his wife? Did Aiden have an ally there?
Aiden only meant to get out of earshot, but agitation fueled him and he kept walking, striding quickly up the path toward the main house and forcing his parents to all but jog to keep up.
“Aiden, think about this rationally,” his mother urged and he put on another burst of speed, needing distance. He charged into the house, cutting through the rooms without a heading, channeling his anger into movement as his mother called, “I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but you need to think of your goals.”
“I might not even run for office—”
“Is she telling you not
to?” his mother cried, trotting behind him. “Are you really considering giving up everything you’ve worked for just because she’s pretty? I’m sure she says all the right things, but she’s obviously using you. You’re a powerful man—”
He whirled then. “You don’t know her.” Regina nearly ran into him, closer than he’d expected, and she stumbled back a step at the violence on his face. “She’s part of our family. She’s the one the girls run to when they scrape their knees. She was the one who took Benjamin Franklin to the vet when he was sick.”
“And how do you know she wasn’t the one who conveniently arranged for Benjamin Franklin to be sick in the first place?”
“Oh, for the love of God, Mother!” He spun and stalked through the foyer and out the front door.
“Exactly!” his mother piped up behind him. “For the love of God.”
“It’s an expression,” he snapped without turning, stalking down the front steps. “You’re no more religious than I am, so don’t try to play that card.”
“Son,” his father’s calm voice entered the fray. “I understand the temptation, believe me I do, but you need to think of your career.” His father put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “No matter how good it feels in the moment, no piece of ass is worth giving up—”
Aiden didn’t think. He didn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence. He’d never been a violent person, but in that moment his fist flew toward his father’s face and he wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of knocking those words out of his mouth.
His father dodged the blow, surprisingly nimble for a man his age, and tried to catch Aiden’s arms so he couldn’t swing again.
They both stumbled, locked in an awkward sort of dance as he tried to extract himself from his father’s grip and his mother shouted, “Aiden! Stop this!”
Then suddenly Candy was there, racing down the steps and shouting, “What are you doing?” She shoved herself between them, each of her movements skilled and practiced as she deftly separated the combatants, glaring at both of them like recalcitrant four-year-olds.
“Stay out of this, Candy,” Aiden growled, breathing hard from the anger still burning in his brain. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“I’ll reserve judgment on that until you tell me why you just tried to deck our father in the driveway.”
The realization that he’d just tried to hit his father when he’d always preached that there was a peaceful resolution to every problem had shame heating his face. “I wasn’t trying to hit him,” he lied.
“You could have fooled me,” Candy snapped.
“Aiden,” their father began again, evidently deciding it was his turn to tag-in on the argument. “You have to know we’re only thinking of what’s best for you. Your mother and I—”
“Can go to hell.” He’d had enough of this bullshit. Enough of his life being ordained by what everyone else thought would make him happy. He was choosing, damn it. And he was choosing Samira.
“Aiden,” his mother gasped and even Candy’s eyes widened.
“What’s going on?” she demanded. “Is this about running for office?”
He released a bitter laugh and shook off Candy’s hold on his arm. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Candy? Everything is about running for office. From the second we’re born until the second we die, every little thing we do, everyone we speak to, everyone we care about, it’s all about running for office when you’re a Raines. Isn’t that right?”
The last question was fired at his parents, but neither of them said a word. It was Candy who finally asked, “Are they trying to pressure you to remarry?”
He laughed again, helpless to stop the bitter sound. If only it were that simple.
His mother approached, speaking directly to Aiden, her voice all that was reasonable and soothing, though she was still smart enough to stay several feet away from where he and his father had tussled. “I would never pressure you into something you weren’t ready for. You know I think you’ll win easily if you run as a widower. I only want you to be happy—”
He couldn’t contain his mocking snort at that little gem.
His mother forged on as if he hadn’t made a sound. “If you would just let me introduce you to a few suitable women—”
“Mom, you can’t decide for Aiden when he’s ready to move on,” Candy argued, oblivious to what she’d walked in on.
Aiden shook his head. “That’s just it, Candy. I am ready to move on. That’s the whole problem.” Because it was evident now his parents would never accept Samira.
“Aiden,” his father took his turn in the two-on-one, his voice heavy with gravitas. “You aren’t thinking this through. I know it’s easy to get caught up in the passion of the moment—”
Aiden almost snorted again. This from the man of a thousand affairs.
“But when you’ve calmed down, you’ll see that we’re right. This is your future, son.”
Aiden was shaking his head as his mother added her coup de gras. “You have to fire her.”
“What are we talking about?” Candy asked. “Fire who?”
Aiden ignored her, meeting his mother eyes, letting her see the truth in his. “I’m in love with her.”
“You think that now—” his father began, but Regina cut him off.
“An upstanding young widower with two adorable daughters wins in a landslide. No one votes for the sleaze who’s banging his nanny.” Renewed anger seared through him. Candy’s jaw dropped and his mother added, “Especially his Muslim nanny.”
Aiden saw red. “And there it is again. What this is really about.”
“We live in troubled times—” his father began cautiously.
“All the more reason not to demonize good people for what other people who share their religion have done. What if we were all blamed for the Inquisition? The Crusades? Every war ever fought in the name of Christianity?”
“This isn’t as simple as that,” his father insisted. “People are frightened—”
“So is Samira! Frightened of being attacked by small-minded people who only see the color of her skin—” Frightened of being detained or harassed simply because of who she was. Frightened to even care for him.
“Maybe when things calm down—”
“No. I’m not going to wait until it’s politically correct to be with her. I’m not going to let someone else’s prejudice dictate my life.” And he couldn’t believe they would ask that of him. His entire vision of who his parents were slid sideways, the foundations of his world suddenly loose gravel.
“Think of your children,” his mother urged—and Aiden almost lost his mind.
“I am,” he growled. “The girls adore her and she’s amazing with them. She is more mother to them than anyone they’ve ever known and you want me to fire her because… why, exactly? Because some constituent somewhere might think I’m allowing my pristine blonde daughters to be tainted by her Muslim-ness?”
“Aiden,” his mother scolded. “You know we don’t indulge in fear politics—”
He’d thought they didn’t, until this morning. “But you don’t stand up to it either. Don’t you see that’s just as bad?” He released a harsh, humorless laugh. “What am I saying? Of course you don’t. You don’t see at all. You’ve never seen anything but what you want. And I’ve gone along with it. But maybe I don’t want that anymore.” Maybe he was finally seeing things for what they were.
He turned and strode quickly toward the edge of the house, circling the massive mansion. His mother called after him, her voice sharp and panicked, but he didn’t slow for a second. This was the long way back to the cottage, but he needed the distance, needed to outrun the anger and frustration chasing him.
He’d thought there might be some who didn’t approve of his relationship with Samira, but he’d never expected to find that prejudice in his own family. But Samira had called it. She’d known and he’d dismissed her fears. He’d been so sure that his family was better than that. He’d n
ever been so bitterly disappointed to be wrong.
They didn’t know her. They weren’t even going to try. And the betrayal of that burned as he stalked back to the cottage. They hadn’t even given her a chance.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Samira focused on the girls to avoid her own thoughts. They hadn’t heard much of what was happening downstairs, but they’d obviously sensed something was wrong. Samira did her best to soothe and distract them, helping them each pick their favorite outfits to wear to the rehearsal later and then, when voices were no longer raised downstairs, giving them both their favorite cereal for breakfast while she cleaned up the last remains of her aborted attempt at omelets with Aiden.
She hadn’t eaten, but the idea of food turned her stomach now.
She’d been afraid of something like this, but she hadn’t been braced for it. She’d met his family before—always in a background capacity, but they’d seemed kind enough. They had to be reasonably open-minded to have produced a man like Aiden, right? Obviously finding out the way they had hadn’t been ideal, walking in on them like that, when they’d been sneaking around like they’d done something wrong. But still. Their reaction. The reality. It had been worse than she’d thought it would be.
She wasn’t even a person to them. She was a mistake. It didn’t matter what else she was. She was the nanny. She was Muslim. For them, the story ended there.
Acid burned up her esophagus and she swallowed it down.
What now? When Aiden came back, what would happen then? Would they kick her out? They couldn’t make Aiden fire her, but she was on their property—and suddenly the vulnerability of that hit her. It didn’t seem like such a fairy kingdom anymore. It was a desert and she was isolated without allies.
“Samira?”
She and the girls looked up swiftly at the sound of Aiden’s voice. He stood just inside the doorway to the cottage, his expression calmer, almost carefully blank, but tension still tightened his body. “Is everything all right?” she asked him, flicking a significant glance toward the twins with their identical worried faces and spoons held suspended over their Frosted Flakes.
