The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(68)

Eye on the prize, and that prize included no man.





Chapter Twenty-One


FROM THE time Samson was ten until Aleki had started to decline, Samson had gone on barefoot runs with his father and uncle on the beach. At first he’d lagged far behind his elders, but as he’d grown, he’d easily caught up with the two star athletes. They’d jogged for miles, until sand covered their bodies, until they could taste it in their mouths. In the colder months, the three of them would return home with their faces tight and immovable.

He hadn’t run far enough when Tina had texted him Chris had arrived, but his face was still frozen. Which was a little worrisome, because he had to be on, but it was also a blessing, because his stew of feelings were ice-cold too.

Samson glanced across the dining table. Rhi didn’t know it, but that numbness was a blessing for her too. Had he been in his right mind it would have been difficult not to grab her up in a hug when he’d spotted her, especially when she looked so tidy and businesslike.

She would have murdered him. She was here to work, after all, and he intuitively knew she’d carve him up with a rusty spoon if he let on that they knew each other intimately in front of her competitors.

The French doors to the dining room opened, and Annabelle appeared. She’d elaborately curled her red hair and giant black glasses perched on her nose. She changed caftans from when he’d seen her last, opting for a flowing red one, and matched it to the red paint on her lips. His aunt posed in the doorway, one hand on her hip. “Hello, everyone! Welcome to my home. I am Annabelle Kostas.”

Samson had seen this entrance many times. He dutifully rose to his feet and the others followed.

Annabelle swept into the room and grinned at all of them, clearly delighted with herself. She may not enjoy being the focus of large crowds, but Annabelle did like attention when it came in the form of small gatherings like this. Once upon a time, she and Joe had often hosted weekend soirees for their closest friends. “Please, everyone! Have a seat, have a seat. No need to make such a fuss over me. Rhiannon, Martin, Chris, Peter. Lovely to meet all of you.”

The ice on his soul melted, at least in one corner. He’d considered ignoring Tina’s text earlier and running forever, but that would have been an impossible option. Today wasn’t about him. He was here for Aunt Belle. He had a job to do too.

The butler held Annabelle’s chair out for her, and they all took their seats. “Did everyone have good travels?” she asked, in a deceptively sweet tone that didn’t give away the fact that the games had begun. She flicked her hand, and servers appeared with silver domed trays of food.

This was elaborate. The last time he’d come over to Aunt Belle’s, they’d grilled hamburgers and ate corn on the cob on her porch.

Martin leaned back for the server to place his plate in front of him and remove the dome with a flourish. “It was fine, thank you.”

“Coach always gets a little crowded on these transatlantic flights,” Chris said smoothly.

Annabelle smiled at the distinguished older man approvingly. She might be lavish at times, but she generally appreciated frugality in the rich. Chris had done his homework.

“And you, Rhiannon?” Annabelle picked up her fork and knife.

“The drive was fine.”

Samson cut into the chicken he didn’t want. Annabelle didn’t believe in a salad course. An entrée and dessert were the only two meals a person needed to survive, she’d once told him.

“Oh, my, I have been remiss. Does everyone know everyone else?” Annabelle surveyed the table like a queen with her subjects. “Why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves? Let’s do . . .”

Samson eyed his aunt. Whenever she’d come over, she’d done exactly this. Gone around the table and had them all answer a question she posed. It had driven his father crazy. Aleki had always just wanted to eat, had barely been able to wait long enough for grace.

But he’d indulged Annabelle, because as he’d explained to Samson, the woman allowed me to meet your mother. If she wants us to talk about our favorite memory or whatever before we carve the turkey, then that’s what we’ll do, damn it.

Before the Switch. Of course.

Don’t think about the Switch, don’t think about your father or your uncle or CTE or the future. You’re here. Focus on the here.

“Name and a bit about yourself and one of your greatest fears. Here, I’ll do me. I’m Annabelle—hopefully you all already know that since you’re here to put in a bid for my company. My greatest fear is . . . dogs.” She shivered. “I was bitten by a large dog as a child.”

When the guests appeared varying degrees of perplexed, Samson roused himself. “I’m Samson, I’m a close friend of Annabelle’s, as well as Matchmaker’s current spokesman and a minority shareholder. And, uh, my greatest fear is . . .” He stalled. He wasn’t about to tell this room of strangers and Rhi his actual fear. “Clowns. Hate ’em.”

Martin introduced himself and skipped talking about his fears entirely, and Chris chose something as generic as Samson’s.

Rhi commanded his attention. Her voice started out thready and rocky, but it strengthened as she spoke. “I’m Rhiannon Hunter. I created Crush. And my greatest fear is . . .” She hesitated. “Not having options, I suppose.”