Chapter 7

Josh

“I don’t trust her.”

“What’s not to trust?” Josh was half-listening to his mother. The Bluetooth earpiece was a blessing when it came time to talking with her.

The chore didn’t happen often, and it was never instigated by him. Elizabeth had a nasty habit of going on and on, getting nowhere, and making Josh’s ears burn. Not only with rage from the crap she spewed, but also from the phone being pressed to his ear.

Well, that was before.

Thank goodness for technology.

That whole, ‘necessity is the mother of invention’ crap? Josh was sure most modern pieces of kit had been created just for moments like these.

Grinning at the thought, he peered down at the velvet tray in front of him. Lined with rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds, he wondered why the singular pearl amid the lot of them called to him.

In his world, the engagement ring a man gave his woman was as big a sign of prestige as the car he drove or the penthouse he lived in. It was proof positive that he’d made it.

The diamonds and other precious gems reflected that. The ten-carat canary yellow had caught his attention at first. It would suit Samantha’s creamy skin and sit quite nicely on her hand.

But it was the pearl that kept on drawing his gaze back to it.

It was simple, demure, and very, very elegant. He pictured Samantha’s hand and knew it would suit her perfectly.

Trouble was, the fact he could summon an image of Samantha’s slender pianist fingers disturbed him.

A lot.

Josh could barely remember his last date’s tits, never mind her hand!

Still, he tried to reassure himself that he’d seen her a lot over the duration of her marriage to Jamie. That had to explain it.

“Josh, are you even listening?”

“I’m half-listening,” he countered his mother’s squeak of outrage. “When you have something decent to say, I’ll reply.”

He was purposely biting with Elizabeth. To an outsider, he knew he probably seemed hard. Cruel, almost. But the truth was, Elizabeth deserved nothing less.

She’d been an absentee mother most of his childhood, only deciding to pop up into his life when he’d made his first billion.

That was no kind of mother, and as a result, he granted her the only right she deserved—some of his time. Not a lot of it. It was too precious, and he was too busy. But some of it was all she damn well deserved.

Elizabeth gritted out, “I care about you. That’s why I’m talking to you about this matter.”

“You’re trying to talk me out of something that has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re my son. I care.”

He couldn’t withhold his snort. “Since when? You care when your check might be a day late, and you care when it concerns you—because maybe, just maybe, if Samantha’s involved in my life she might convince me to cut you off for the greedy, penny-pinching bitch you are? Is that it?”

She choked off a curse. “You’ll regret speaking to me this way one day.”

“Will I? You know I don’t like lies and falsehoods, mother. With you, I can be very, very honest with my intentions. I pay you maintenance because it keeps you quiet. Don’t mistake it for my giving a damn about you. Without my money, and having spent what dad gave you, you’d be out on the street. Rather than bitching at me, maybe you should think about a different style of approach.”

Silence fell at his words. “Do you realize how hurtful you are sometimes?”

“I can only hurt someone who genuinely gives a damn about me. You don’t give a damn about anyone save yourself.”

“That isn’t true!”

“It’s nothing but the truth,” Josh said drily. “Don’t think you can BS me. You’re only interested in what I can give you, and that’s fine. Truly, it is.” And it was. “When you’re after my money, I know where we stand. And whether or not I stay engaged and ultimately marry Samantha, has nothing to do with you. And she’ll have no say over your maintenance. When have you known anyone to influence me where money’s concerned?”

“She’s a gold-digger,” Elizabeth asserted, apparently not having heard a thing he’d said.

“Change the record or the next time you call, I won’t pick up.” He cut the line, uncaring that she was still squawking and pointed to the pearl ring.

The assistant, a blonde woman about ten years his junior, stared at him wide-eyed. Maybe he’d come across as harsh with his mother, especially in front of an audience, but, well, Elizabeth was no mother.

Samantha was a mother.

He’d seen her with Erin.

She mopped his snotty nose, gave a shit about the crap drawings he gave her and made a fuss about pinning them on a board in her damn-awful kitchen. The living room was for family, not for show. There were toys everywhere, but not in a messy way. In a way that declared this was a room for a child, and the child was loved and at the center of the house.

He knew the difference because he’d been raised the exact opposite.

He’d known he’d been a nuisance.

A mistake.

Of course, it had been a fruitful mistake on his mother’s behalf.

His father, a rich property tycoon, already married, had always paid for Josh’s care and upkeep, and had maintained Elizabeth in a very luxurious manner until Josh had left for college.

Surprisingly enough, he had a better relationship with his father than his mother. Josh hadn’t even met the man until he was ten, when Adam Martin’s wife and he had divorced, and he could finally claim Josh without it triggering a clause in his prenup agreement with his ex.

Despite all that, Josh liked his father. Though he’d never been publicly claimed by him, his early years had been funded by the man when he could have avoided paying a dime. Then, at ten, he’d introduced Josh to his parents and those grandparents had been the first bit of real family he’d ever had.

If Adam Martin had done nothing else for his son, it was enough that he’d introduced him to his grandparents.

Then, when his grandfather had died, leaving him a substantial inheritance, Josh had started Stradi, and from tiny acorns, a mighty oak had definitely grown.

His father had done a lot for him, his mother had used him. Had used Josh’s blood tie to Adam to get by. She’d not been a pauper herself, but things had changed after the stock market crash in 08. Her decent-sized savings from years on cashing in on the maintenance his father paid, had halved thanks to her mismanagement—even after he’d recommended a financial advisor.

The woman really was her own worst enemy.

Grumbling under his breath, and uncaring that the blonde assistant was gawking at him like an ogre, he growled out, “The pearl ring? May I see it?”

At his prompt, the woman jolted, but she rushed to hand him the ring from the velvet bed.

He studied the flawless pearl, eyed the tiny opals that were arranged in a fire burst around the large ball—my my, it was even more exquisite in the flesh and it would suit Samantha down to a tee.

A sound bustled from the door, and he turned to see what the fuss was. Jacobsons was an exclusive jeweler. The silent atmosphere belonged in a museum, that was how quiet it was.

Perhaps, if not a museum, a library.

The walls were hallowed, paneled with a rich mahogany like a jewelers of old. The glass cabinets were antique, but very well maintained, it was like they’d been made yesterday and produced to appear old.

He liked it here. He tended to send his PA here to buy his mother gifts, and if he was breaking up with a particularly good mistress—one who was getting a little too comfortable with being on his arm at events—then he also had Ethan buy them something from this store.

Still, the noise was a nuisance, but when he saw its source, his annoyance turned to outright disbelief.

“Harold? What the hell?” He strode forward and reached for Samantha’s arm. She was struggling in his head of security’s hold. “What’s going on here?”

“This gorilla won’t let go of my arm!”

“That’s because she refused to get into the vehicle when I asked kindly.”

“I had to go to Erin’s playschool, you moron!” The shout was hollered at both Josh and the guard.

“You’ve arranged for someone to collect him?” Josh demanded quickly.

“I handled that,” Harold inserted.

“A stranger is going to collect my son from playschool,” she spat. “That’s no solution. Not in my eyes.”

No, he could see that, and her firebrand anger, when he’d only ever seen her calm—and recently, despondent—was so refreshing that, so help him, he felt his cock stir at the sight of her.

This was no regular rage. It was that of a tigress fighting for her cub, and it surged through his blood with a ferocity that bewildered him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” Josh said a little stiffly, mostly because he was in the wrong, but also because he was dealing with these weird fluctuations in his body that were bewildering him.

Josh maintained a strong hold on his self-control. It was the only way a man could reach his lofty heights without floundering. Every moment of his day was itemized—and on his personal schedule, one that Ethan didn’t see—he even listed when he’d be having sex and how long he could allot to the task.

Sex for Josh was a physical release. It was like exercise for another man. He scheduled it because it was important to keep himself refreshed, but just like doing a push-up, it could get tedious with the same woman.

He was used to being pretty cold where the opposite sex was concerned. Thanks to his early relationships with his mother, he figured a shrink would have a field day with his repressive traits. But the shrinks would also have a field day when taking into account how he was responding to Samantha.

Dammit, he’d loathed her for a lot longer than he’d liked her. And even now, the liking was entangled with a weird kind of anger. She’d broken the looking glass, made him see the truth.

A nasty truth.

Jamie wasn’t the man Josh had believed him to be.

The one person, aside from his grandparents, he truly believed he could say he loved, and it had been a lie.

He firmed his mouth at the thought, refusing to go down that path again. He’d already had too many sleepless nights over the past, and he was intending on helping Samantha out, to rectify the lies Jamie had fed them all.

He’d do what he could, would always be there to support her and Erin come what may.

Josh agreed with the opinion most people had of him. He was cold. But where it mattered, his honor ran true. His grandfather had taught him that.

“Harold, why didn’t you listen to Mrs. Garrett?”

“You insisted she be here by five, sir.”

Josh winced; he remembered that conversation. He’d spoken to Harold that morning about collecting Samantha, and Josh hadn’t entirely been in that great a mood after he’d heard news of a deal potentially going south.

He rubbed his chin. “I might have seemed a tad more forceful than intended. In future, you’re to listen to Samantha if she insists she can’t attend me.”

“Attend you?” Samantha scowled at him. “What do you think you are? A pasha?”

He cocked a brow. “No. You’re fiancé.”

Harold stiffened at that. “I apologize, sir. Ma’am.” He cut Samantha a sheepish look. “I didn’t realize.”

Josh nodded at the man, knowing the apology was truly meant and that the fault rested with him. He reached for Samantha’s arm, sliding his hand under her elbow. Cupping it, he guided her forward and away from Harold. “I’m sorry about that.”

“He treated me like a criminal,” she spat, tugging her arm free from his.

The hiss garnered the attention of the assistant. Josh sighed, well aware he was breaking all of Jacobsons’ rules about silence.

Grateful no other customer was here, he murmured, “That’s because I was in a mood when I arranged for him to collect you.”

“I don’t appreciate being collected like a package,” she insisted. “I’ve had enough of that in my life.”

The reminder wasn’t welcome. Inside, he tensed, but he tried to remain loose and calm on the outside—the last thing she needed was for him to look angry.

He was angry. But not with her.

With Jamie.

Again.

“I’m sorry. I should have called.”

Truth was, he wasn’t in the habit of making arrangements with women. He told them when he was going to meet them, and they accommodated him. That was how it worked with his mother and with his lovers.

It was standard practice.

But there was nothing standard about Samantha.

Nothing standard at all, and that was what concerned him about her.

He hadn’t lied when he said he’d loathed her.

Throughout her marriage, he’d believed her to be a soul-sucking, money-grabbing bitch. Exactly like his mother. He’d hated her on principle, and that was before Jamie had perpetuated the image by describing her in ways that would make even a preacher raise his brows in contempt.

But now, after the loathing was burnt away by the truth of her marriage, he was left floundering.

Josh didn’t like floundering.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

She stared up at him, her bright eyes glinting a little as she started to smirk. Surprised, he jolted her arm, jostling her forward. She laughed. “You haven’t called a woman up to make an arrangement with her in a long time, have you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” she retorted calmly, “you call them, tell them to jump, and they’re not even expected to say “how high?” They’re just supposed to be your little dolls.” She cocked a brow at him. “Am I wrong?” She smirked again when he stayed silent, just peered down into those new copper penny—bright eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“Our relationship doesn’t preclude you judging me on the way I date,” he said silkily, urging her forward once more to where the blond assistant was eagerly watching the display before her like she was watching a daytime soap opera.

Josh sighed at the thought, and was relieved Jacobsons made their staff sign strict NDAs. The last thing he needed was to go viral on Instagram over this shit.

“No, I guess not,” she agreed, “Still, I’ll gladly give you some hints and tips if you want to improve your game. Lesson one, don’t have your henchmen barge into your prospective date’s house like a bunch of stormtroopers, and don’t have them frog march her out of the house in front of all the neighbors.”

Inwardly, he cringed. Outwardly, he just sighed again. “It was that bad?”

“Worse,” she countered, sounding surprisingly cheerful.

He eyed her carefully. “You’re not mad anymore?”

“No. I like the hangdog expression on your face. You wear it well.”

He scowled at her. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you apologize before. Not even to Jamie.”

“I don’t do it often,” he said stiffly.

“Because you think you’re above reproach or because you never do anything wrong?”

The sweet tone pricked all his warning defenses, activating them into red alert. “I don’t think I should answer that. I’m not a lawyer, but I can sense a trap forming. Even if it’s only with words.”

She winked at him. “Good call.”

He heaved out a breath. “Look, I brought you here today so we could arrange for the ring.”

“What ring?”

He rolled his eyes. “We’re engaged. Your engagement ring.”

She peered around the jewelers. “Somehow, I managed to figure that out, but it’s totally unnecessary. I don’t need a ring. I can wear something Jamie gave me.”

“Janice would notice that immediately.”

Janice was exactly like Elizabeth, except she’d been clever enough to be married to Frank before she gave birth—though their relationship had started with an affair too.

A fact Jamie had learned after overhearing a row between his parents one night when he was eight. Josh could easily remember his best friend telling him the next day the vitriol the two had tossed at each other, all within hearing range of their son.

He remembered because Jamie had been particularly down about Frank’s accusations Jamie wasn’t his.

He sucked in a breath as in his mind’s eye, he saw the snot-nosed kids he and Jamie had been, huddled together at recess at an exclusive prep school, both miserable, both clinging to each other for comfort in a world where their parents didn’t give a damn.

They weren’t alone in their class. Rich families weren’t exactly renowned for being ultra-caring, but Josh and Jamie had bonded from the instant. He didn’t know why, and had never questioned it before—had always been grateful for the way they’d made friends.

Now?

Now he wasn’t so sure.

And he hated that. Hated the doubt where once upon a time, there’d never been any.

Still, that wasn’t Samantha’s fault.

He cleared his throat, realizing that, once again today, the women in his life, both permanent and temporary, had been speaking without him processing a damn word.

Crap, this whole situation had really knocked him off kilter.

He wasn’t used to not having his head in the game, and this was really fucking with his control.

That could not be allowed to continue, so, his tone like a blanket intended to dampen further argument, he murmured, “Whatever you say, you need a ring if anyone’s to believe that we’re engaged.” The last part he said softly, whispering the words in her ear so the attendant couldn’t overhear—NDA’s weren’t always ironclad after all.

Trouble was, their proximity made it so her perfume, her scent, overwhelmed his senses.

Overwhelmed him.

She smelled like fucking flowers and fresh air.

Who smelled like that?

Like walking laundry detergent? And who made it smell good? Sensual?

He blinked, taken aback by his visceral response to her.

Yet again, he cleared his throat of the emotion gathering there, emotion that was poorly placed, and murmured, “Just take the gift.”

“Only if you don’t expect me to keep it.” She eyed him, shooting a gimlet stare his way. “This is your plan, your idea. I won’t have you thinking I’m in this for a rock.”

He snorted, for the first time finding something amusing in this bewildering situation. “That’s the last thing I think.” He cocked a brow at her. “I want to get the initial meeting with Janice and Frank over with. It will have to be soon, and you’ll need a ring as proof. Mother only hasn’t spoken with Janice over this because she thought she could talk me out of it.”

Samantha propped her hands on her hips. “She called to talk about me?”

“Mother does nothing but call to bitch about something,” he muttered, disregarding her umbrage, disregarding the coolness of his relationship with his mother. “Come on. I want to make sure the ring will fit. I want to see them before the end of the week.”

“It’s Friday tomorrow. When do you want to see them? Sunday? You know they’re always in the Hamptons come Saturday morning,” she mocked.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he countered immediately, looking at the pearl the attendant had placed on a different cushion to showcase it. Against the burgundy, its luster was enough to catch even his attention… A man more accustomed to being attracted to the sparkle of a large bauble than a delicate piece such as this.

Samantha, sensing his attention wasn’t on her, glowered at his line of sight, then, she froze, her shoulders reared back as she too caught sight of the pearl. “My gosh, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s a vintage piece, ma’am,” the blonde said eagerly, apparently sensing a sale.

“It is? Who did it belong to?”

Josh frowned. “I didn’t think Jacobsons repurposed old pieces.”

The blonde nodded. “It’s something new we’ve been trying out,” she told him politely, her smile bright. “It’s been quite a successful venture for those ladies who wish for something a little more retro.”

What she meant was the ladies who weren’t interested in the flash but the substance.

And though he’d always believed Samantha was the former, he had to admit… she was definitely the latter.

He swallowed at the thought and watched as she reached out to caress the ring. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is. It’s originally from England. From the Duchess of Keithley’s private collection.”

“A duchess?” Samantha whispered, sounding in awe at the prospect. “It totally suits. It’s like from the Regency or something.”

The attendant beamed. “That’s exactly right, ma’am. It’s from the eighteen-twenties. We have all the original paperwork too.”

“What kind of paperwork?” Samantha asked, her curiosity prickling in a way that enchanted Josh.

And he wasn’t the kind of guy to be enchanted.

“The original goldsmith the Duke hired. His stamp and seal, as well as the information from the gold assay office. It’s all very exciting. It’s the oldest piece we have in the collection at the moment.”

Seeing how taken Samantha was with the ring, Josh murmured, “Would you like to see the rest of the collection? The vintage pieces, I mean?”

Samantha turned rounded eyes his way. “Can I have any ring I want?”

When he nodded, the attendant murmured, “There are some quite unusual pieces in the collection, ma’am.”

Samantha immediately shook her head. “No. No way. If I can have anything I want, it’s this one.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” he murmured, turning to whisper the words directly in her ear. He hated himself, but he purposely did so to inhale her scent once more, to breathe in her proximity. To the attendant, he stated, “We’ll take that one, please.”

“Our goldsmiths can handle the resizing now if,” the attendant coughed, “timing is of the essence?”

“It is.” He shot the woman a narrow-eyed stare, one that had her blanching. Then, he felt an elbow in his side and gaped down at the woman beside him. “What?”

“She’s doing us a service. Don’t be rude to her.” To the assistant, Samantha shot her a smile. “Don’t worry about my fiancé, he’s just a bear sometimes. You know how men can be.”

The woman sputtered, and damn, Josh couldn’t blame her.

He felt like sputtering himself.