by Isabel Jolie
The security detail contracts were quite lucrative, but the expense of running the business was also high. The men he needed to hire, the security equipment he needed to buy, all added up to expenses he needed to cover.
At first, he had legitimate security detail contracts. Several of Esprit’s board members were his clients. Then he had a tax bill he hadn’t anticipated.
Bill came up with the idea of a stalker to convince Sam he needed a security detail. He thought one more contract was all he needed. But he spent that money to pay taxes and other expenses. And yet he still had the expense of providing Sam’s security detail. After two years, his security business still struggled to get out of the hole. With his full-time job at Esprit, he didn’t have enough time to focus on marketing his services and acquiring leads, so he decided he needed just one more lucrative contract.
Sam wraps the story up. “We’re still figuring out details. It does seem the kidnapping wasn’t Bill’s plan.” Sam straightens one of my blankets. “The FBI’s on it. Right now, my focus is this one.” His blue eyes glisten, and the muscles in his jaw tighten
Jason listens intently, concern etched on his face. “How’re you holding up?” His hands grip the armrests of the chair as he studies Sam.
“I’m a whole lot better now that Olivia is safe.”
“It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”
Sam bites his lower lip and nods in agreement. “Yeah. I still can’t believe it, though. The one guy I put so much trust in.” He shakes his head, the frustration evident. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much that guy knew about me. About my business.”
Jason stands. “Yeah, well, he’ll get his due. You focus on you. And this lovely lady.” He then directs his attention to me. “You take care of this guy, okay? Make sure he doesn’t wall himself off because of this.” Then, as he gets up to leave, he adds, “Text me when she’s home. I’ll stop by. I’m going to be heading out of town tomorrow, but if you need anything, let me know.”
Sam interrupts. “I’ll let you know if I need anything. Thanks, man. Where are you off to?”
A smile spreads across Jason’s face. “Chicago.”
“You ever going to let me in on what’s going on with you?”
Jason chuckles. “When I have good news, yes. Wish me luck.” He slaps Sam on the shoulder and says, “You take care of this one, okay? She’s got a tough accounting exam coming up.” He chuckles when I grimace.
After he leaves, I turn to Sam. “What’s going on with him?”
“He still hasn’t told me everything. But it seems you were right. Some things have been going on with an old friend.”
I reach out to touch his face, but the IV line pulls on my skin, so I rest it on the comforter.
Sam leans forward and covers my hand with his. Lines frame tired eyes, his jaw muscles taut. He’s exhausted, but there’s more. Something still bothers him. “What are you thinking?”
He fingers the unruly mass on his head as he exhales deeply. “My thoughts? Last few hours, they’ve been rampant. Emotions. A stampede.” He lightly taps the silver railing on the side of my bed. “You see, when I was a kid, I trusted pretty much everyone. Then, after I became successful. Money. After that…” He grits his teeth. Stares at the wall. “I lost a lot of faith in humanity. Suspicious of everyone. You know, this whole thing. Bill Withers. Scamming me.”
I squeeze his hand.
“Yeah. The one guy I put so much trust in. So much fucking trust. It makes me feel like…I don’t know. Like I can’t trust myself. It’s not a great feeling.” His eyes search mine. “It fucking sucks. I’ve been sitting here. Watching you. Unconscious. Thinking about all this. And I decided, I’m gonna lay it out. I need you to be honest with me. Always. I need to know I can trust you. If you are with me for any reason other than me. Please.” His blue eyes drill into me. “Please tell me. I can’t handle finding out I can’t trust you. You, you’re my everything. And I don’t know how all that happened so fast. But when I was sitting out there, waiting to find out if the antidote would work, to find out how much damage the drug did to your central nervous system…” He studies the lines on his palms.
“Sam, you can always trust me. Always. I don’t give a damn about money. Honestly, I think I’ve hated it for a lot of my life. I kind of blamed my parents’ obsession with it for them being gone so much.” I look out the window. It’s narrow, gritty. It’s an overcast winter day outside. “You know, the two of them, they hate each other. They should have divorced when I was a kid but didn’t because it wasn’t what my grandmother wanted, and my mom was afraid of losing access to her money. It’s miserable to be around the two of them. That’s why I didn’t want to introduce you to them. I don’t even know why they had me. To a large degree, they’re like strangers. And that’s fine. It is what it is. I’m kind of shocked they even came by the hospital.” I squeeze harder on his hands until he’s looking at me. “But you can always trust me. Money isn’t what motivates me. I’ve seen what happens to people when money overrides their every decision. That will never be me.” Our fingers intertwine, and I make a silent oath to always be true to him, to us.
He places soft kisses on my knuckles. “God, Olivia. I was completely helpless. Couldn’t fly you to the world’s greatest specialist because there aren’t any doctors who specialize in tranquilizer overdosing. There’s no Google ranking of doctors who deal with this. I’m not religious, and I prayed. I promised myself if you made it through, then I’m going to work like I’ve never worked in a relationship. To make us work. To be everything you deserve.” He brushes a few strands of hair away from my face, and for a moment, I wonder what I must look like right now, but the warmth in his eyes tells me my appearance doesn’t matter
I break the seriousness of the moment when I tease, “I’m just blown away someone like you, this gorgeous, brilliant guy, likes me. An intern.” I emphasize the word intern and smile. My stomach flutters. “Are you sure you still want me to come home with you? The stalker’s not a threat anymore. We can back things up if you want.”
For a moment, he looks up to the ceiling. “You don’t get it, do you? I love you. So goddamn much. The whole stalker nightmare may have moved us forward faster than we would have gone, but not by much. You belong with me. I belong with you. I’ve never been more certain about anything. About anyone. In my life.” He pulls my hand up to his lips, once again kissing the back of my hand, carefully so as not to pull on the IV line. “Do you want to live with me?” Vulnerable blue eyes find mine.
“I do. I love you too.” I rub the thick stubble lining his face. He’s now close enough I can reach him. “So much. I still can’t quite believe you’re real. Coffee shop guys aren’t really supposed to be real.”
“Coffee shop guys?”
“Yeah. You know, love in a coffee shop? The guy you see from afar. Daydream about. Then he leaves. You were my coffee shop guy.”
“Darling, if that’s what a coffee shop guy is, then I hate to break it to you, but I’m not him. I’m your forever guy. I’m the love of your fucking life.” He leans forward and presses his lips to mine.
I smile at him as he pulls back. “Promise?”
“Oh, baby. I’ve never been more right about anything in my life. This is it for us. Trust me.”
Epilogue
Olivia
Six months later
It turns out Ms. Ray loved Bill. In her own way. Even after hours of interrogation, it’s unclear what kind of relationship the two maintained over the years. It appears it was very much one-sided, with Lindsey caring far more for Bill than he did for her. She wanted to see him succeed. Didn’t want his security company to go into bankruptcy. Bill had asked her to get to know me, as he suspected Sam wanted to date me. His plan was to raise concerns, at first to simply remind Sam of lurking dangers to increase security. Then, when our relationship did develop, he aimed to coax another contract. But Lindsey preferred to do things her own slightly irrational
way. She thought they weren’t being aggressive enough, so she took things a step farther. Bill had nothing to do with the kidnapping. But prosecution expects they will both be going to prison for a long time.
We’re standing outside the courthouse now after providing our testimony in the case against Tiffany Lindsey Ray. We testified against Bill last week. Both pleaded not guilty to a host of charges. A handful of reporters surround us. There are a few flashing lights. Sam stands beside me, hand on my lower back, protective.
“Mr. Duke, how do you feel the case is going?” one reporter asks.
“Mr. Duke, are you surprised they plead not guilty?” another reporter asks.
“Mr. Duke, is it true that you had sexual relations with the defendant, Tiffany Lindsey Ray?”
“Are you and Ms. Grayson still living together? A source mentioned you had a fight in a restaurant recently.”
Sam cuts his eyes to mine. One of Sam’s lawyers steps up. “The case is ongoing. Mr. Duke will not be answering any questions or making any comments during the trial.”
A few of the reporters nod, taking notes while a few flashes still go off. This is the response they expected. Sam isn’t one of those pseudo-celebrities looking to comment to raise his profile level in the media. In fact, interviews with Sam are most frequently done by email. Handled completely by his PR team with business motivations in mind.
Sam’s lawyer walks through the crowd and down the concrete steps onto the street, leading us to an awaiting black Tesla. Wes, one of Sam’s regular drivers, stands with the back door open. He’s wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and jeans. After the whole security debacle, Sam asked all his drivers to go casual. I don’t think he wants anything around him that feels like a security guy is in the wings.
Sam thanks his lawyers, and we both slide into the back seat of the car.
“All right. All right. All right!” Sam slaps his hands together. “That’s behind us. What do you say we head home?”
Home. His apartment is now truly our home. It no longer has a spartan, barely lived-in feel, although I’m sure his designer might cringe if she came over to visit. We have cozy throws in the den, and we’ve started a wall of candids of us and our friends and family. My favorite photo right now is of our first Christmas tree. Or maybe it’s the one of us both riding a horse together, laughing, because we’re riding bareback and Ollie snapped the photo right as the horse kicked out at a fly and we were struggling to stay on.
I grin. “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon? You don’t need to head back to the office?”
“Nope.” He pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me. “There’s something else I need to be doing this afternoon.” He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks, making me giggle.
I playfully take his earlobe and bite. He squirms, and I tickle him. He quickly grabs my wrists and gives me a fierce, playful glare. “Stop that.”
I smile. Then I recall one of the questions I heard shouted. “Who do you think is going around saying we got in a public fight?”
“Who knows. Who knows if they even have a source. Thank god I’m not really in the public eye. I can’t even begin to imagine how actors or politicians deal with that shit. It’s like this moneymaking machine that doesn’t even care which humans it grinds up to print money.” His lips twist, a clear look of disgust across his face.
As I run fingers through his hair, I lean in to kiss his cheek. He lifts my hand and kisses it. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Even though we may have to get security for our kids, and even though we have to sometimes deal with crap sources making comments to sell papers, are you still thinking you can do this with me?”
I lean back a bit so I can study his expression. “Do this?” I ask, a teasing smile playing across my lips.
“Yeah, this thing called life. You still up for sharing your life with me? Growing old with me?”
“Absolutely.” I lean in and kiss him. Our tongues dance. He moans as my weight presses against his groin.
His arms wrap around me, holding me close. “That’s a good thing. Because these last six months have been the best of my life.”
I smile. “Mine too.” I kiss him on the cheek. “Security for kids? I thought you were anti-security.”
He roams my thigh with a light sensual touch as he shifts me on his lap. “I wouldn’t say I’m anti-security. I just don’t want to give up that freedom unless it’s necessary. But our kids, that’s a whole ’nother ball of wax. Keeping them safe. That’ll be my number one priority. My muscles in my shoulders tighten thinking about it. That they could be the target for a ransom.” He turns to watch the city glide by. “And they haven’t even been born yet.” He absentmindedly places light kisses along my knuckles.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about kids so much. Is something going on here? Is this your version of a proposal?” I don’t even try to hold back my smile as I tease.
With his signature warm, shit-eating grin and in an exaggerated southern drawl, he says, “Darlin’, when I propose—and I will propose—you’ll know it’s a proposal. This is just what I like to call testin’ the waters.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And what’s your conclusion from your test?”
“I’m thinking the waters are mighty warm. Toasty. Trust me?”
Trust me. A lighthearted jest wrapping the crux of our relationship. We won’t always be able to trust the people in our lives, but we have each other. I trust him with my soul. Instead of making me weaker, or vulnerable, he makes me stronger. I don’t need a ring. He’s my best friend, my confidante, and my future.
Acknowledgements
I originally wrote this before I’d even published the first book, When the Stars Align. It’s all a little surreal, and I still have that feeling that I’m writing this section and few readers will ever read it.
Trust Me has gone through many iterations. Sections of it have been shared in a writing class. I’ve had many beta readers from Critique Match read some or all of it. Ada and Jenn, the same two beta readers who also read When the Stars Align read Trust Me and provided valuable feedback. AmyClaire Mager ripped it apart and helped me to piece it back together. Jenni Pezzano then read the revised version and helped me refine it. Which, I have to say, was so helpful, because, after so many changes, I wasn’t even sure the new version, sans prologue, made sense.
Lori Whitwam took my unpolished draft, fixed all my errors, pointed out overused words and not only edited the piece but, just as she did with When the Stars Align, taught me so much. I’m looking forward to working with her in the future as I work to improve and grow as a writer.
Heather Whitehead copy edited Trust Me to find any comma or extra space errors and provided that one additional set of eyes to ensure a mistake-free manuscript.
Adlina Hamid-Yeow designed the book cover. She’s been amazing to work with. She immediately “got it” and has also provided valuable insight as, she too, is a prolific romance reader.
Huge gratitude and appreciation goes out to the poet Becca Lee for providing permission for me to feature her poetry. I found her poem on Pinterest, and for me, it encapsulates the experience when Olivia ran away to another country after heartbreak, earned her own success, then returned stronger and in a better position to move forward with her life.
My husband and daughters, and my extended family, have gathered around to continue to support me on this crazy little endeavor. At Christmas, both my daughters gave me gifts that showed their support and brought on the tears. My husband and I continue to attempt to figure out the world of book marketing. As always, I’m forever grateful for his support and encouragement
Last but not least, a heartfelt thanks goes out to my cousin, Sarah Smith, who read my first book after it was published and bowled me over with her incredible enthusiasm. She let me know at a freak out moment, and I’ll never forget how much her positivity meant. In some ways, she helped me to continue moving forward with this whole writing venture.
&n
bsp; For Indie authors, every review helps. I’ve read this before, but never understood exactly how true it is until I released When The Stars Align. If you liked Trust Me, please consider leaving a review.
About the Author
After falling for a ginger in a kilt in Outlander and encountering Christian’s hypnotic eyes in 50 Shades of Grey, Isabel fell down the escapism rabbit hole. Inspired by a favorite Indie writer who said she started as an avid reader, Isabel decided to follow her high school dream and take the writing plunge. Through writing, she’s found an outlet for the creative and passionate stories percolating in the deep recesses of her less than the safe-for-primetime mind.
Isabel has now written the first three books of the West Side series, a collection of romantic and erotic stories spanning time, friendships and exciting locations around the globe. The series has already received critical praise from early readers and critics alike, including first place in the RWA 2019 Four Seasons writers award.
Isabel lives outside of Charlotte, NC, where she splits her time between her two beautiful daughters, one charming yet clueless husband, a dog, a cat and an unquenchable desire to entertain, delight and share this passion with others like her.
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Also by Isabel Jolie
When The Stars Align (West Side Series Book 1)
