The VIP Room(30)

Sam was a good man. But he wasn’t going to fall in love with me. He cared for me. I knew that he did. We had a great friendship. And I loved working for him. I had no idea why he suddenly wanted to change our relationship, but sleeping together would ruin everything.

He’d eventually grow tired of me as he did every woman he slept with. He’d move on and I’d be shattered. Destroyed. I had no illusions that my heart could survive sleeping with Sam intact. I’d fall even deeper in love with him and it would break me when he left.

“So that’s it?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes. That’s it. Let’s just forget we had this conversation and go back to normal.”

“And you’ll forget I kissed you?”

At the memory of that kiss, I flushed and looked away. I’d never forget he’d kissed me. I was going to hold on to that kiss, remember it so often I’d never lose a single detail. This whole idea might be crazy and impossible, but I would always have that one perfect kiss from Sam.

“I can change your mind,” Sam said, his eyes locked on my face with a predatory gleam. Meeting them, I drew in a deep breath, steadying myself for what I was going to say.

“I’m sure you could. You know exactly what you’re doing with a woman, and I’m practically a virgin. You could probably seduce me in your sleep. I’m asking you not to try. Please just let this go, Sam.”

He was silent for a long moment, still studying my face. His eyes had flared when I’d admitted my inexperience. That was probably a mistake. Sam could be easy going, but he was still an alpha male and admitting vulnerability was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. After what felt like a year, he said,

“You don’t trust me.”

“That’s not it,” I protested. “You’re my closest friend, Sam. I do trust you. But this would be a bad idea. Give it some time and you’ll see that I’m right.”

“No. You don’t trust me, Clo,” he repeated. “You think I’m just interested in what I want and I’m not thinking about you. Like you’re some new shiny toy or a momentary distraction that I’ll get bored with and forget. As if I could ever get bored with you.”

“Sam, don’t do this.”

“Fine, I won’t,” he said easily, his change of heart throwing me off balance. “We have bigger things to worry about. Nolan is missing. You’re in danger. But I’m not going to forget about this.”

“Sam,” I started to say. He cut me off.

“No. Shut up for a second and let me talk.” Surprised, I did.

Sam wasn’t always polite. He ran a construction company - some of the things I’d heard him say on the job could blister your ears raw. But he was always a gentleman with me. Or, he was most of the time. I couldn’t recall him ever telling me to shut up before.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he went on. “I’ll back off for now. But you agree to stay with me until we resolve whatever is going on with Nolan. And you keep the clothes Lola brought over. Consider it a bonus from the company if that makes you feel better.”

“Okay,” I said, relieved. “And we can just forget we ever had this conversation?”

“No f*cking way,” Sam said. He sat down on the stool beside me and leaned his shoulder into mine, his mouth dropping beside my ear. Whispering, he said, “I know you’re scared Chloe. I know you don’t trust me and you’re afraid I’m going to hurt you. But I’m not. I’ve wanted you for longer than you know and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. If you can’t believe what I say, I’ll just have to show you how I feel.”

He rose from the stool and left the kitchen, saying over his shoulder, “Finish your breakfast and we’ll go check out your place. I’m going to get a few things together for the office.”

Then he was gone, leaving me staring at my half eaten French toast and wondering what the heck had just happened.





Chapter 8





Chloe





My apartment was a mess. Cushions torn off the couch, food hanging out of the fridge, flour strewn on the floor. Our bedrooms, mine and Nolan’s, were both equally destroyed. His might have been worse, but it hadn’t been neat to start with, so it was hard to tell if the disarray was new or pre-existing.

For the first time since I’d seen the clothes on Sam’s table, I wasn’t conflicted about my new wardrobe. Everything in my closet had been torn from the hangers and thrown on the floor. The drawers were emptied. The things on my night stand had been swept to the carpet.

“I can’t tell if they were looking for something or just really pissed off,” Sam said, joining me in my bedroom.

“I know. I guess I should say thanks for the clothes now,” I said, a quaver in my voice. Sam’s arms came around me and I rested my head against his chest, grateful he was here with me. He’d been right, we had more important things to worry about right now than our stupid argument. Like what to do about the men who had trashed my apartment.

It was bad enough that they were after Nolan. But looking at the deliberately torn pair of underwear on the floor by my foot, I shivered. This wasn’t just a search. This was rage. Whatever happened, I did not want these men to find me. Sam tightened his arms around me and gave me a squeeze.