by Julie Miller
Since her curiosity had gotten her this far, she didn’t hesitate to pull out the folded slip of paper she found in his jacket pocket when she tucked the ring box back inside. This was probably some sappy poem or crib notes he planned to use when he proposed, instead of honest, heartfelt words.
Samantha’s jaw dropped open and her breath rushed out as her whole future closed in on her in one humiliating, suffocating moment. She read the names and numbers on the paper. This wasn’t even a stupid poem. It was a receipt for the ring. More expensive than she’d imagined. Charged to her stepmother Joyce’s account.
“Why would she buy my engagement ring?” If Kyle didn’t have the money for that shiny eyesore, then he should have purchased something smaller, more tasteful—a gift from the heart she would have treasured. Had he asked her stepmother to visit the jeweler for him because he’d been away on business so much lately and didn’t have time to shop?
She crumpled the receipt in her fist. Maybe this wasn’t about the money or time. Were her father and Joyce that worried about her? She was going through most of this for them. Did they think they were doing all this for her? How much of this whole engagement was for the benefit of public relations and the family name? Was any of this marriage bargain real?
Samantha pulled out the velvet box again and squeezed it in her fist. She was sorely tempted to track Kyle down and shove this ring and whatever bargain he thought he’d made with Joyce and her father down his throat.
The whole bed rattled when something thumped against the wall, startling Samantha from her vengeful thoughts. The interruption gave her a moment to temper her emotions, a moment to think more rationally about her discovery. Maybe her own doubts about this engagement were feeding her suspicion of Kyle.
But then she heard the giggle.
Chapter Two
A moment of cold dread was quickly erased by the angry understanding that followed. She should have trusted her instincts. It wasn’t the pomp and circumstance of the evening that made her break out in stress hives. It was the idea of marrying Kyle.
When another thump against the wall made her jump, Samantha went to investigate. The door on her side that could be opened to turn the neighboring rooms into one large suite was unlocked and slightly ajar—as was the connecting door into the next room.
She’d like to go back to that whole television-or podcast-watching theory. But Samantha knew better as she pushed the second door open and entered the room that mirrored her own. Though still hushed, she could distinguish the voices and giggles and breathy moans now. She turned past the desk to the closet door, wishing her hearing was as lousy as her myopic vision.
A woman laughed from inside the closet. “Stop shushing me. You said no one could hear us in here.”
Oh, how she wished she didn’t recognize that voice.
“Just do it, baby. Do it now.” Betrayal drove a stake through her heart at Kyle’s gasping reply. “Stop talking and...”
Samantha whipped the door open to see Kyle leaning against the closet wall and her stepsister, Taylor, kneeling in front of his unzipped pants.
Oh, hell. Oh, double hell.
Kyle swore.
Samantha watched her stepsister tumble onto her bottom as Kyle pushed off the wall. She backed away, shaking her head.
Taylor’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Samantha? Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I never meant to—”
“Screw my boyfriend?” Seriously? Were those tears? “Or just get caught doing it?”
Kyle made a token effort to button his shirt as he stepped out of the closet. “I can explain.”
“So can I.” Fortunately, he was in a condition that made it difficult for him to hurry after her as Samantha headed to the connecting doors. “Apparently, you lost track of the time. And which sister you’re proposing to.”
Kyle grabbed her wrist and tugged her around to face him. “Baby, you know I’m committed to you.” He captured her by the shoulders, his handsome blue eyes searching hers. Hadn’t he just called Taylor baby? Real special endearment, jackass. “To us. I will see this thing through to the end. I just needed to get this out of my system before we settle down.”
“This? You mean having sex with my sister?” Samantha twisted in his grasp, and his hold on her tightened painfully.
Taylor scrambled to her feet to follow them, tugging her dress down to her knees. “Out of your system? What does that mean? You said—”
“Shut. Up.”
When Kyle turned to dismiss her stepsister, Samantha finally put those three-inch heels to good use and stomped on his stockinged foot, freeing herself. He cursed her and the pain, and stumbled into Taylor. While he teetered off balance, Samantha shoved him back inside the closet, knocking Taylor in with him. The two traitors were falling to the floor, pulling coats and hangers down with them, as she hurled the ring box at them and slammed the door. Tuning out both demands and apologies, she wedged the desk chair beneath the doorknob. Blind with rage and hurt and even a little self-loathing that she hadn’t seen this coming, Samantha marched back to her own room and locked the connecting door behind her. She just wanted to escape. If she’d needed a reprieve from the social event downstairs, then dealing with this kind of humiliation demanded nothing less than utter and lengthy solitude.
But she wasn’t going to find that here. She spared a moment to pull the luggage rack with her suitcase in front of the door to block the exit, further trapping the two on the other side before grabbing her purse and pulling her checkered trench coat from her own closet.
The argument from the next room continued, mixed with knocks against the walls and periodic swearing. “You said you were with the wrong sister. That you wanted me. Was that just a line to get me to—?”
“Shut up, Taylor.” The doorknob rattled. He pounded on the wall between them. “Samantha, open this door. We need to talk. You’re being a child.”
And you’re being a bastard.
“I love you,” he insisted, in the most rote, carefully practiced and insincere tone she could imagine. “I’ve told you that countless times.”
“If only you meant it any one of those times,” she muttered before slipping into her black-and-white coat and exiting into the hallway.
She barely noticed Brandon springing to his feet. She hated that her eyes were gritty with tears, hated that she cared enough to hurt like this. But her brain seemed to function, even when her emotions couldn’t get their act together. Although Kyle couldn’t get to her through the room they’d shared, he’d be able to reach her through Taylor’s door. No sense risking that he’d be able to break out of the closet and chase after her. She knocked over the side table, spilling it and the silk fern in front of Taylor’s door.
“Um, trouble in Happy Couple Land?” Brandon dodged to one side as she dragged the leather chair in front of the door, building a bigger barricade. “Your mother asked me to remind you—”
“Stepmother, Brandon. Joyce is my stepmother. My real mother died.” And apparently, so had any chance at a relationship. After swiping at the tears that clouded her glasses, Samantha booked it down the hallway toward the elevators, leaving the banging and swearing and shouting behind. “Tell Joyce and Dad something came up. I’m leaving.”
Brandon stayed right with her. “What did that lowlife do? Is he cheating on you again?”
Samantha stopped in her tracks. “Again? You knew he...? This isn’t the first...?” So much for protecting her. She tore her gaze away from the bodyguard’s pitying brown eyes and punched the elevator button. Be angry, not hurt. “I knew something wasn’t right between us. I was trying so hard to make it work. I’m such an idiot.”
“Where are you going? I can’t let you leave on your own. Especially when you’re like this.”
“Like what? Awake to reality? Standing up for myself? Saving what little dignity I have left?” Th
e strain of the evening intensified the rash on her torso. Ignoring the habitual urge to scratch, she dug into her purse. “Fine. Then you’re coming with me. Here are my keys.” She stepped into the elevator, handing them to the confused bodyguard. “Bring my car around back by the kitchen entrance. I’ll meet you there. I’m not walking through that lobby and facing all those people again.”
“Pellegrino will want to know your destination. He doesn’t like changing plans when security is already in place. The rain is pouring—”
“I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t care if I get wet. I just have to get out of here.” She jerked at the crash of splintering wood from down the hallway and punched the first-floor button. “Now.”
Brandon grabbed the door to stop the elevator from closing. “What do I tell Pellegrino and your father?”
“Tell them I’m not feeling well. Tell them I’m flying to the moon. I don’t care.”
“Samantha!” Kyle’s shout reached her through the makeshift barriers she’d put up. The closet door was down.
Brandon pulled back his jacket, resting his hand on the gun holstered there. “You want me to stop him?”
At last someone was on her side. But she needed him to do what she needed him to do. “Either get the car right now, or I’m leaving on my own.”
He nodded and ran toward the stairs, allowing the doors to close. “I’ll meet you under the parking canopy at the kitchen’s delivery entrance in back.” She could hear him reporting in as the elevator dropped toward the first floor. “This is Metz. Be advised that Filly One is...”
Without even a glance toward the lobby, Samantha hurried toward the kitchen area by one of the lodge’s service corridors. With the catering staff out working the party, there was only the chef and her assistant in the kitchen when Samantha pushed her way through the swinging metal door. Ignoring their curious looks and offers to help, she quickened her steps toward the walk-in refrigerator and storage pantry near the back entrance. When the door crashed open behind her and the assistant squeaked in startled surprise, Samantha ran as fast as her aching feet and starched dress allowed.
“Samantha! You have to talk to me.”
Kyle hadn’t stopped to put on his shoes, and his stockinged feet made no noise as he raced up behind her. She yelped when he grabbed her and spun her around, backing her into a stainless-steel worktable, pinning her there with his hips and hands. His chiseled cheekbones were flushed with exertion, his perfect white teeth clenched as he panted in her face. “I thought you were an adult. Running away is what a child does. You owe it to me to listen.”
“I owe you?” His fingers clamped down tightly enough to bruise her skin when she shoved at his chest. “Let go of me.”
“Clear the room,” he ordered the catering staff. When they were too stunned by the argument to budge, he shoved a tray of hors d’oeuvres onto the floor. “Get out!”
Samantha wished she could leave with them as the door swung shut on their backsides. Dishes and pans rattled on the steel table as she squirmed in Kyle’s grasp. “You need to let me go.”
He released her arms to grab either side of her face, pulling at the pins that held her long hair in place and pinching her scalp, forcing her to look up at him. “You and I are getting married. We have an agreement. Your family likes me.”
“Some more than others, apparently.”
“Don’t get snarky with me. Yes, I screwed up. You have to forgive me.”
“Says who?”
“You think there aren’t things I would change about you?” he challenged.
How was this her fault? She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes and fought through her emotions to find the words she needed to say. “I’m not the one who’s cheating.”
“I have a weakness. Okay?”
“No. It’s not okay. You didn’t even pick out the ring yourself. You couldn’t spend that much time on me?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I can see that.”
“With work! I was a little strapped for cash and couldn’t afford the ring I wanted to get you, so Joyce helped me out.” He was the son of a millionaire and had a good job with the Midas Group. How could he possibly be short of money? Before she could voice the accusation, Kyle touched his sweaty forehead to hers in a supposedly tender gesture, and Samantha wondered how she’d ever found him handsome or charming. “I am committed to us. You know I’m good for you. I help others see beyond the professor and the glasses. We make a good team.”
What about needing her? Or wanting her? Or any other stupid compliment that could make her believe he was ever in love with her? The urge to cry disappeared. She let his lips brush against hers, but the moment he thought he was winning her back and his hold on her eased, Samantha twisted from his grasp.
He paused long enough to curse before pursuing her again. “This is a misunderstanding. You need to clue in to how the real world works. I have needs.”
She whirled around. “You need to keep your pants zipped around other women. If you wanted to get laid, you should have asked me. It’s not like I haven’t wanted you to...teach me more.”
The creep actually smiled. He cupped his fingers against her cheek. “Is that what this is about? Baby, you’re too good for a quickie.”
She slapped his hand away. “But my sister’s not?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.
“Taylor’s young and fun. But she means nothing to me. You mean everything.”
“Liar. How many others have there been?”
At least he had the good grace to look guilty. For a split second. Then he was reaching for her again. “Look. Truth. You’re learning. Eventually the sex will be great between us, but until you get some confidence—”
She slapped his hand away. “A relationship isn’t just about sex. It’s about trust and caring and respect. You have no clue—”
When she felt his hand on her arm again, Samantha reached for the first weapon she could find, a heavy skillet resting on the edge of the metal table. She swung around, whacking him in the shoulder. He cursed, grabbing his bruised arm. She knew a moment of guilt, sensing she’d gone too far.
“You are not dumping me.” When his eyes narrowed in rage instead of pain, her brain took over.
She had a feeling that escape wasn’t just an emotional need at that moment. Shoving the pan into his gut, she forced Kyle back a step. She ordered him to open the refrigerator door. “Get in there. Get in or I swear I’ll run straight to my father and tell him you were banging Taylor tonight instead of earning your spot as Midas’s newest vice president.”
Kyle raised his hands and moved toward her. “You don’t want to upset your father tonight...”
“Get in!”
If she’d had any doubts that she was nothing more than a means to an end for Kyle, his willingness to step inside the cooler in exchange for her silence confirmed the truth. As disgusted with herself for being taken in by his promises as she was with the man himself, Samantha closed the refrigerator door and slipped the pin into the lock.
Instead of cursing her or shouting her name, Kyle pulled his cell phone from a pocket and held it up to the window beside his gloating face for her to see.
“How did you...?” Had he broken out through their room? Taken the time to retrieve his phone? Did he have a second cell? Whom was he calling?
Samantha dropped the skillet and opened the back door.
“This is Grazer. I need your help.” With the rain beating down on the loading area’s metal canopy, she lost the rest of the conversation until he started shouting. “I mean right now! She’s taking off. Running out the back door. This is plan B!”
Whoever Kyle’s ally was, she wasn’t waiting for his help to arrive. Slightly breathless with the exertion of fending off Kyle, she scanned the row of employee cars on the other side of the d
riveway for her silver BMW. The rain fell in sheets on either side of the canopy, blackening the night sky and shrinking her world to the lights beneath the canopy and parked vehicles ahead of her. Her steps stuttered to a halt beside the caterer’s van. Where was Brandon? Surely, he’d had time to fetch her car from the lot in front of the lodge to drive back here. “Where are you?”
Although she was out of the elements, the moisture in the air dotted her skin. She shivered with a chill that was part Wyoming springtime and part apprehension. Samantha took out her own phone and pulled up Brandon’s number. Should she call him? Give him a few more seconds?
A powerful engine revved nearby. Too big to be her car. Tires screeched against the wet pavement somewhere out in the darkness. Two headlamps came on, their bright lights crystallizing every raindrop, blinding her. Shielding her eyes, Samantha drew back to her side of the driveway so she wouldn’t be run over.
Just as she punched in her bodyguard’s number to get her out of this madhouse, a black van erupted from the wall of rain and skidded to a stop only feet away, sending a wave of dirty water splashing over her feet. “Hey!”
The side door opened and two men in dark camouflage gear and ski masks jumped out. One was carrying what looked like a machine gun.
Samantha screamed.
“Shut her up!” a growly voice ordered.
She spun around and slammed into a third man. Where had he come from? Strong arms snugged around her like a vise, knocking the phone from her hand. “Let go of me!”
