I close my eyes to it all. The late hours I’ve been keeping every night to take care of work and the girls. All this change Samantha has created with her moving and rearranging my life. My rising irritation with my fiancé, especially since it’s not her fault. She is nothing if not transparent about how she feels. She isn’t the one who’s changed. I am.
“I’ll call you after my fitting tomorrow. We can make plans for the weekend. The girls are still going to their grandparents for the gala?”
“They are,” I answer, eyes still closed.
“Don’t be lazy, darling. Walk me to the elevator.” She waits at the door while I wash up and throw on a pair of sweats that sit low on my hips. Her eyes see nothing. No glances at my body. No finger that lightly caresses the low crevice on my hips. I open the door and a moment later the lift stops on Finn’s floor. I exit, she stays, the door closes behind me.
Finn and Zinnie are playing a card game in the living room.
“Poppy?”
“Blue room,” Zinnie answers without looking up from her game. Her hand slaps at the stack of cards on the table and she declares “war”.
A sliver of light shines onto Poppy’s face when I open the door. She’s sleeping on her back, Edward given the prime real estate next to her heart.
Squatting down, I push curls off her face and my hand slides down to cup her cheek. In an unaware sleep, she nuzzles my hand. My heart feels like it’s going to explode. This child. She’s had so much heartache at such a young age. I wonder what she makes of it all. Her breath has a slight rasp to it, the remnants of her cold.
This is the first time I’ve touched her like this and I wonder why that is. I’ve spent many nights staring at the girls from their doorways while they slept, trying to burrow my way into their heads to figure out what it is that I’m not giving them. A peek into how to do this better. Maybe Camilla is right. Maybe the girls would be better off in a place where there are other girls their age, and they have people looking out for them that know more than I do. Just as quickly as the voices come, they leave when Poppy rolls on her side and pulls my hand to her chest where Edward once was.
And I feel it. Her heartbeat. I move to my knees to get into a comfortable position and sit there until mine syncs with hers. I kiss her forehead, thanking her for the encouragement.
“I was just about to send a search party out for you,” Finn says, knocking the deck of cards against the table, evening them up before sliding them back in the box.
“I sat with Poppy for a while. Wanted to make sure she wasn’t having any problems left over from her cold.”
He nods; he knows I’m full of shit.
“Where’s Zinnie?” I ask.
“She went to bed. Had a call to take.” He adds air quotes to the last part. “Camilla coming down?”
“She left. Had an early appointment.”
“Are you sure…”
“Don’t.” I cut him off. “I can’t right now.”
“Okay,” he says with kindness in his eyes that frustrates me.
“I’m going upstairs. Call if the girls need anything.”
“They won’t. Quade says he and the rest of the Ox Five were going out for a drink. You should go. Meet up with them.”
“I’m rather exhausted.”
“It would be good for you. I’ve got the girls. You can go without worry.” He studies me. I know he wants to say more, but he’s holding back.
“Thanks, but no.”
I take the stairs up to my place, entering through the back entrance. The door to Sam’s room is closed and there’s no light coming from underneath. I groan at the thought of what she might be doing in there.
“Fuck it,” I say to no one as I stand in an empty apartment. Alone.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt headed out to meet my boys. Pierce responded within a minute, letting me know they were at Hush, the hottest club in town. I’m a bit underdressed, but I don’t give a fuck.
The night is warm and seeing as I am in an unusual mood, I lower the car window and watch the city and people around me fly by. I love London, it will always be my first love, but this city has something, too. It pulls at me. The excitement. The hardness. I watch tourists stopping to take their picture in front of the New York Public Library. People frustrated trying to get around them. People running to catch the bus. Storefronts still open. This city is alive no matter what time you step out your door.
My driver drops me off and, as expected, the bouncers open the roped entrance before I’ve even stepped onto the sidewalk.
A gentleman in an expensive suit greets me. “Mr. Nelson, your party is in the Penthouse.” I nod and the security men around him clear a path, guaranteeing me access to our roped off area with ease.
The music thumps around me and the day melts off. This is what I need, drinks with my boys. I’d find someone to dance and blow off some steam, but I know a picture would end up in the paper tomorrow and Camilla would flip her shit.
“Tell me it’s true. Are you really here?” Colin stands, pulling me into a hug that comes close to cracking my ribs. “Missed you,” he says in my ear over the music.
I return the hug and give a handshake to the others. The last time the four of us were together in a club was the night Everett was killed.
“I understand we have a meeting,” Pierce says. When it’s clear I don’t understand, he reminds me Samantha set it up to discuss the girls.
“Don’t remind me. I’ll probably cancel.”
“No, you won’t,” he says, suddenly serious. “You should have done this the day you found out. We will meet and get this taken care of.”And that’s it. No more discussion. When Pierce speaks, everyone listens.
“I thought you would be helping the girls unpack,” I say to Quade who downs the last of his beer.
“Nope. I talked them into coming.”
“What? Tell me you’re joking.”
“No. I’m not joking.” He attempts a bad English accent.
“Quade, I don’t want my work life and my personal life mixed up with each other.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? We all work together and we all play together. You’ve never cared before.”
“I mean with Samantha. The waters are already muddied, and I don’t need you inviting her to the things we do.”
“Pshaw,” he says, blowing me off as he finishes the last of his beer and makes his way to the dance floor. I watch after him, hoping the daggers I’m shooting at him will spear him in the back. But I’m not that fortunate. Not anymore anyways.
From our elevated platform, aka the Penthouse, I can see his destination. Samantha and her…squad, posse, whatever the fuck it is, have commandeered the dance floor. And I say commandeered because they are owning it. Every man and, apparently, a few women are watching them. The girls are clustered together, oblivious to the onlookers eye-fucking them as their hips swivel and dip, smiling like this is the best time of their lives. Quade muscles his way to them and easily turns his groove on when the girls encircle him, making him their dance bitch. Quade. He’s loving life hard and has no qualms about being used. In fact, he looks seconds away from blowing a wad. He tries grinding against Sam’s ass, but she laughs and slaps his hands away. She offers him a kiss on his cheek to soften the blow of rejection.
I get my first real look at her. She’s splendid, and she’s not even trying. Her hair is in a ponytail. If she’s wearing makeup, it’s not visible from this distance. She’s wearing a black T-shirt dress that hits just at the top of her thighs. To boot, she’s wearing a pair of killer heels.
A blur moves in front of my face. Peirce is waving his hand in an attempt to draw my attention.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked,” then he smirks, “how Camilla is.”
“She’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”
“You said that.” He laughs then raises a hand to our server for another round.
“I was happy to hear you hired Sam.” He waits, but I’m sure as shit not going to make this easy for him. I already know it’s going to be painful for me. When he realizes I’m not to be baited, he gives his opinion anyways. That is why he is Pierce.
“I was a week away from stepping in,” he says. I think he’s watching me for a reaction.
“Be my guest. I completely concede that you would have been the better choice.” I raise my drink in a toast to him. The lights move around us, the air cloudy from the mixture of body heat and the cool air from the air conditioning.
“But I wasn’t their choice. You were. And you did the best you could for the first few months. Now it’s time to do what’s right.”
“And what would that be exactly?” I raise a brow in defiance, looking for a fight.
“Don’t.” His voice is low but easily audible over the music. He slides forward in his seat, and locks me in a stare. I’m a tough son-of-a-bitch, but Pierce can be ruthless and we both know I lose when matched against him.
“Don’t fucking fuck with me. We all know you are doing your best. Hell, you haven’t even grieved the loss of your best friend. You went straight into guardian mode. You did the best you could at the time, but the shock wears off more and more each day and your best is different today than it was four months ago. As it should be. You don’t need me to tell you that. So, man the fuck up.”
“If everyone knew Sam was the fucking answer, why didn’t anyone tell me?”
He closes his eyes for a minute and releases a breath like he’s lost all his patience. Colin steps in, sensing he’s moments away from pummeling my arse.
“Sam is not the answer. She’s just proof that you are starting to make the right decisions.”
We both smartly choose to ignore the standoff of silence, neither of us wanting to give into the other, and divert our attention to the scene folding out on the dance floor.
A wall of three very pissed off women stand between Sam and Jake. Sam still visible, but slightly offset, guarded behind their shoulders. She must have said his name, because it’s clear the minute he realizes she’s here. And instead of remorse or a deer in the headlights guise, he raises his arm and puts it around the girl he was tongue fucking and groping just a moment ago. That stupid fucker.
I stand and watch the scene unfold. It all happens in the matter of seconds, but it plays itself out in slow motion.
Sam nudges herself in front of her girls; they make room and stand shoulder to shoulder with her. It’s clear Zoe is giving him a piece of her mind, and he’s made the mistake of engaging her. I don’t know what he’s said, but Pierce has summoned one of his security men when Quade catches his death glare. He turns over his shoulder, murmurs something with the word fuck in it and darts to the girls. But it’s too late. In all my days of anticipating an opponent’s move, I never would have thought it would be Charlotte. My money was on Zoe. Jake must have made the same mistake, because he never sees the small fist jabbing towards him. The little dark-haired pixie can throw a punch, and, based on her stance, she’s been trained to fight.
That’s when all hell breaks loose. Jake lunges for her and the girls are on him like ants on sugar. Quade seizes Sam and Grace—one in each arm, their feet flailing about—and it’s clear they weren’t finished with their quest. Charlotte has been hoisted over Pierce’s security guy’s shoulder and Zoe is standing, arms crossed, glaring at Jake. Her posture begging him to try something. The bar’s security escorts Jake out, who seems none too happy to be the one leaving.
“Put me down!” Charlotte yells over the music before she is righted on her feet. She’s a second away from unleashing a piece of her mind on the guard that carried her up here when Pierce yanks her onto the bench, telling her to sit her ass down. Quade has Grace around the waist with Sam following behind who takes a seat next to Colin. I count the girls and look around for the fourth. Zoe is on the dance floor bumping with a woman whose mouth is locked over hers.
“I get dumped and she gets the girl,” Sam huffs.
“That girl has been hot for her since we got here. Once Zoe went all badass on Jake, her fate was sealed.”
“Zoe is a…” Quade starts.
“Lovely lady licker?” Grace supplies. “Yes,” all three girls answer.
“Really?” Quade watches with apt fascination. “That is so fucking hot.”
“Quade, no,” Sam says, like someone scolding a dog.
“What a dick,” Charlotte says, still simmering.
“Forget it.” Sam waves her hand and grabs a shot from the tray of a passing waiter. The girls stop and watch her with unsure shock. Sam throws two more back and then stands, shifting her dress into place.
“You girls get some water and cool off. I’ll meet you back down there.” Sam reaches for a beer to take with her, but Charlotte pulls it back with a glare.
“I think we should go home.”
“And I think we should dance,” Sam challenges, already on her way to the steps leading down.
Charlotte mumbles to Pierce, “I might need to borrow your security. Let’s go get our girl, Gracie.” She sets the beer down and stands.
“Let her dance. Might do her some good to blow off some steam,” Quade says, tipping his beer back.
“You don’t understand. Sam hasn’t been drunk since the—”
“Grace.” It’s a warning and Charlotte’s glare shuts her up.
“Thanks for the night fellas,” Grace says, extending a fake smile while standing. She and Charlotte trot down the stairs, and Pierce gives a nod to his security to follow them down. We watch men levitate their attention as the girls near the bottom step. Zoe has abandoned her admirer and is focused solely on Sam. By the time the other two arrive, Zoe appears grateful for the backup. The three women surround Sam, who is dancing without a care in the world, but it’s clear an argument is brewing. The majority wins and I watch them escort Sam off the floor.
“Is your car out front?” Pierce asks.
“Yep.” I already know where he’s headed.
“I’ll give the women a ride home,” I concede, sounding more put out than I am.
I text my driver that I’m ready as I’m ushered out of the club into the night air. Hush’s security has Jake on his stomach flat on the ground.
“What happened?” I ask the floor manager escorting me. He has a wire attached to an earpiece coming out of his collar.
“The gentleman apparently hit a woman.”
My eyes immediately jump up looking for Sam, wavering slightly when I see her. She’s alright.
“You’ll take care of him?” I ask.
“We won’t kill him, but he won’t raise his hand to a woman again,” he growls. Jake is being lifted off the ground, his shirt splotched red from the blood running out of his nose.
“I think he’s learned his lesson. Turn him loose.” He nods and opens my door. I turn and call for Samantha.
“In. Now,” I direct when her sweet face falls on mine.
I expect some pushback for my terseness, but she doesn’t give any, nor does she meet my eyes. She makes sure her friends are all safely inside the limo before sliding onto the back seat. I climb in next to her and close the door. No one speaks for several minutes. I take an inventory, and no one appears injured.
“Who did he hit?” I ask, not seeing any physical evidence on the women.
“No one,” Sam rolls her eyes. “He’s an asshole, but he wasn’t going to hit anyone. He just lunged out of anger.”
“Don’t you fucking defend that asswipe,” Zoe bites.
“I’m not. Just stating the facts,” Sam responds, never shifting her gaze from the window. Her legs are crossed, and sliding across the seat has caused her dress to slip up her legs. Lacy boy shorts peek out from under her hem. “There was no reason to leave. I’m fine.”
“If you were fine, you wouldn’t have downed three shots like they were water before reaching for a beer.”
“She did what?” Zoe asks Grace. “You haven’t done that since—”
“Zoe,” Grace interrupts softly.
Traffic is heavy but the air in the limo is heavier. None of the women speak, but they each watch Sam like she might jump out at any minute. Her phone dings and by the time she fishes it out of her purse, it sounds like a pinball machine. She thumbs through the text messages before sliding her phone into her purse.
“Please tell me you are not going to respond to those,” Zoe says rather harshly.
Sam doesn’t answer, but she momentarily glances in her direction before turning her attention back to the window.
“Sam?”
“She was pretty. Did you get her number?” Sam asks instead.
“She was hot, and no, I didn’t. I was out with my girls, not trolling for pussy.”
“Could you be anymore vile?” Charlotte pushes Zoe’s shoulder.
“Yes. She could be, and please don’t say things like that in front of my boss,” Sam motions towards me. We pull up to the curb and I climb out first followed by Sam and the group.
Zoe flirts with my porter pulling his tie out of his waistcoat and winking at him. I make apologies for her, and, once we’re inside the lift, ask them to behave in a manner befitting of the building. There are a couple of giggles and a comment I’m not able to make out before laughter spreads through the car. I’m the only one not in on the joke.
The door pings open, and by the time they file out of the car, shoes are in their hands, and a couple of them have begun to unfasten their attire.
Twenty minutes later, after I’ve showered the club off of me, I’m in the kitchen grabbing a slice of pizza when Charlotte appears beside me with a bottle of tequila in her hand.
“Mind if we borrow some glasses? We still need to unpack.”
I hand her three glasses.
“One more, please.” She reaches out and I hand her one more.
“I thought you said Sam doesn’t drink?” I hear myself asking despite my mind telling my mouth to shut it. It’s none of my business. Or concern.
“I said she doesn’t drink out. She’ll drink if she’s home or at one of our homes for the night. Goodnight.” She effectively ends the conversation.
I watch as she leaves the kitchen. It’s weird being in the house without the girls. This is the first night they’ve slept away since they moved in. I would love to fall into bed and sleep into oblivion, but I have a shit ton of work to catch up on.
The apartment is set up like a starburst. The foyer is the center. Half of the star is the living areas. The other half is a series of wings all branching off of the center. One is the master wing. The other is the kids’ wing with a guest suite. The last is the nanny’s quarters, home gym, and my office.
The main door to Sam’s area is still open when I walk past. The girls are in their pajamas, pouring healthy glasses of tequila, when Sam walks out of her bedroom. She’s wearing a shirt that’s longer than the dress she had on earlier.
“You’re welcome to use the guestrooms if you need to,” I offer on the way to my office.
“Thanks, but we’re use to sharing a bed. If we get too loud, please let me know.” I don’t acknowledge that I heard her, instead closing my office door behind me.
I work until exhaustion takes over, and I know if I don’t sleep I’ll regret it tomorrow. My day is slammed with meetings that will be difficult enough to stay awake in without the added effect of tiredness.
The lights in Sam’s place are still on when I look at my watch. Three a.m. I reach in to close the door when I see the bottle of tequila is now nearly empty. I step into her quarters. Shit. Apparently, all that’s needed is a little pent up anger and some tequila and these girls can get it done.
The nanny’s quarters are quaint: a living area, small kitchen with an island, and a bedroom with an en-suite bath. Like the rest of the place, there are floor to ceiling windows in every space.
Sam and her girls have all the boxes unpacked and everything is already in its place. For the first time, this space feels lived in.
The green couch I didn’t approve is against the wall to the bedroom with a large colorful painting over it. There’s something comforting and intriguing about the movement in the painting. Everywhere you look there’s color. But instead of looking like a crayon box threw up in here, it’s tasteful and looks like it could be a shoot for a magazine. There’s a stack of frames in the corner that no doubt still need a home.
The door to her bedroom is open, with all four intertwined and passed out on her queen mattress. Each with a hand on Sam in some fashion or another, as if to comfort her in her sleep. I observe each of them. They look like the kind of girls we would have wanted to hang with when we were in uni. The kind of girls other guys would have envied you for.
I hit the switch, sending the rooms into darkness before closing the main door behind me.
The sun rises before I’m ready. I swear the daylight comes sooner and sooner. I stretch my long body under the covers, begrudgingly pulling myself out of bed. You would think I was the one that drank a fifth of tequila.
A shower does nothing to calm my surly attitude and I’m not the best to be around by the time I make it to the kitchen for coffee. Finn and the girls have made their way back up to my apartment, and even though Sam’s crew are all in sunnies, they appear to be functioning. The only thing that keeps me from kicking out these women surrounding my kitchen bar is the fact that coffee and breakfast are waiting for me.
“Don’t you all have jobs, or do you live off the common people?” I snap.
“We’re on our way home, boss man. Don’t get your knickers in a wad,” Zoe says, picking up a bagel as she stands to leave. “Zinnie and Poppy, I’ll be back next week to talk designs. Can’t wait to see what you all have in mind.” Zinnie and Poppy beam back at her with excitement. “I told Mark to expect your call. He has a couple of guys who have room in their schedule to help with minor construction.”
“Thanks Zoe,” Sam says, picking up her dish and taking it to the kitchen. “Girls, get dressed. We have some shopping to do. Big girls, get to work.” She kisses the top of their heads and they say their good-byes on the way to collect their things.
“If you must have overnight guests, I would appreciate it if you feed them in your own space.”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store. I won’t let it happen again,” Sam answers, taking it all in stride. Nothing gets under her skin apparently. Even being passed over for a pin-up Barbie that was probably more plastic than human.
“I would also appreciate you keeping nights like last night to a minimum. This isn’t a dormitory.” God, I’m a daft prick, but I must infuse some space between us. I need my life with the girls to be separate from my work life and my life with the fellas. “Also, the girls will be with their grandparents this weekend. It was scheduled before you were on staff.”
“Alright. That will allow me to get situated before having the girls full time next week. Anything else?” There’s an edge to the question, but, still, she doesn’t push back as one would expect.
“Not at the moment, you’re dismissed,” I reply, not looking up. I don’t want to see that scowl that is almost certain to be on Finn’s face. I’m met with silence and when I do finally glance up, Finn is standing to leave.
“We have a meeting in ten minutes,” he says with his back to me, making his way to the stairs. He leaves without waiting for me. Something he never does.
As expected, the morning meetings are difficult at best on the amount of sleep I’ve had, but for once, I am caught up. Maria rings to tell me my lunch meeting is being held in our private conference room. The guys are here for our monthly meeting. Part of being in charge of Everett’s estate is managing the business he owned.
“Are we sure this is what is best for the girls?” Colin asks, looking at stats in front of him before taking a bite of his lunch.
“No, I’m not. But it’s an option that needs to be explored,” I answer.
“When are you going to be sure?” Quade asks, closing his folder, his steak still untouched.
“Quade,” Pierce says.
“Don’t ‘Quade’ me. It needs to be said. Business is business. It’s not personal. We all know that. Once you make it personal, mistakes happen. We need to look at this like it’s a business we own and take the girls out of the equation.”
“It’s not that simple,” Colin says.
“But it is. Financially, the girls are set for life, with or without Everett’s business. So, remove them from the equation. Four of the best business minds are sitting around this table, and you mean to tell me that we don’t know if this business is viable nearly five months after we’ve taken over?”
“I think the girls aren’t what’s mucking up your equation,” Finn offers gently. He doesn’t have a say in the business but he’s joined us for lunch nonetheless. “It’s Everett. He’s the one you need to remove.”
The weight of his statement sucks the oxygen out of the room, and the air sits heavy around us.
“Meet with Reid Beckett,” Pierce says. “He buys businesses that are in jeopardy. He will have a perspective we can leverage right now.”
Colin sorts through a few more stats. “The business I’m looking at is not in jeopardy.”
“No, but it will be,” I answer. “We don’t have the time to give it the attention it needs. As far as I know, none of us have the interest to own it. The girls are too young to know if they would want to when they graduate from uni, which is six years for Zinnia, sixteen for Poppy. We either need to fill the CEO position or look at selling.”
“Fine. Talk to Beckett. Anything else?”
“No. I’m meeting with Pierce to set up guardianship of the girls if anything were to happen to me.”
“It won’t, but that’s smart,” Colin says.
“I think we’ve all learned that none of us are guaranteed a tomorrow.”
“It won’t,” he says firmer. “I can’t lose another brother.”
“Who are you making the guardian?” Quade asks. “Please tell me it’s not Jenny’s parents.”
“What is wrong with her parents? They love the girls.”
“I just think they are getting older, and I don’t know if they are the wisest choice.”
“What would you have me do, Quade? Do you want the girls?”
“I’d take them if it meant they wouldn’t have to go through another change again. I just think they are too old.”
“Noted.”
“Anything else?” Pierce asks, gauging the temperatures in the room.
“One more thing.” I look around. “Samantha is their nanny. Not your uni date or someone to go clubbing with. I’d ask that you don’t blur the lines. It’s hard enough to keep the girls separate from everything else without you all bringing Sam into our day to day.”
“Have you ever thought that keeping the girls separate isn’t working?” Quade pushes.
“Quade,” Finn warns. He might agree with Quade, but he’s too protective to hear the edge in Quade’s voice and not bristle.
“I’m just saying, that sounds more like Camilla talking than you.”
“Lay off Camilla. She’s adjusting the best she can. This has turned her life upside down.”
“You don’t say?”
“Quade, just stop. I appreciate you caring, but you need to stop.”
“Fine.”
“I already asked Sam to be my date this weekend to the charity event, and she’s my friend, but I will try to understand the boundaries you are setting,” Finn replies. He doesn’t mean it, but he’s here to be on my side.
“Good. We’re all in agreement then,” I say, closing my folder and picking up my fork.
“Not even close,” Quade, Colin, and Pierce pledge in unison.