Chapter 11

SAM

I WASN’T sure what annoyed me most: Blackwood’s hands on my wife, or her damn dress. Swarovski crystals appeared to have been strewn across her body, held in place by a nearly invisible flesh-toned fabric. The cut emphasized the curve of her hips and narrow waist. I’d never seen Dakota look more stunning or more fuckable. Was it my imagination, or had her boobs gotten bigger since I’d last seen her? The pregnancy would change her body in numerous ways over the next months, and I looked forward to watching her belly swell while my baby grew inside her.

I bent and whispered into her ear. “I need you now.”

A faint pink blush swept over her cheeks. “Now? Here?” Her eyes grew wide, their aqua depths sparkling.

“Come on.” I slipped a hand around her waist, with the intentions of dragging her into the nearest broom closet if necessary.

“Sam? Samuel, dear, we’re ready for you.” Bitsy Fields-Barrett appeared at my side.

“Five minutes.” I didn’t turn around. From my position at Dakota’s side, I could see straight down the V neckline of her gown. Her breasts quivered with each breath, a scintillating sight. My cock responded.

“Five?” Dakota arched an eyebrow.

I probably only needed three. The sight of her in that gown would star in all my spank-bank fantasies for the rest of my life.

“No, dear. We need you now.” Bitsy rested a hand on my forearm. I tore my gaze from Dakota and stared pointedly at Bitsy’s hand. She dropped it to her side. In tandem with her request, the lights blinked twice, and a low roar of excitement rippled around the room. “You understand, don’t you, Denise?”

“It’s fine. Go on,” Dakota said, ignoring the slight.

“No, it’s not.” I’d had enough of Bitsy Fields-Barrett and all the other snobs in this room. I pulled Dakota’s hand through my elbow and turned us as a pair toward Bitsy. “Bitsy, her name is Dakota, not Denise. You know that, yet you insist on calling her by the wrong name. Either you’re extremely rude or becoming senile. I’m not such which.”

Bitsy blinked and pressed a hand to her chest. “Samuel Seaforth, what’s come over you?”

Dakota’s mouth dropped open then she recovered and snapped it shut.

“Let’s start over,” I said. “Bitsy Fields-Barrett, let me introduce you to my wife, Dakota Seaforth. Dakota, Bitsy was my mother’s best friend, and took over as chair of the Seraphim-Seaforth Gala after Mother passed.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Seaforth,” Bitsy extended her hand to Dakota. “I apologize for my error.” Although her words dripped with sweetness, Bitsy’s eyes glittered with anger. Few people had the balls to call her out in public. Unlike the others, who cowered in her presence, I didn’t give a fuck what she thought.

“Yes, of course. I remember you.” Dakota smiled and took Bitsy’s hand. “You used to visit Sam’s mother at their country house.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten you were there. It’s been so long ago. Your mother was the one of the servants, wasn’t she?” Bitsy withdrew her hand from Dakota’s and dropped it to her side, as if sullied by the touch of a peasant.

“Mrs. Atwell was our head chef,” I said. “And a very good one. One you tried to steal from us on more than one occasion.” 

Bitsy’s lips tightened. “Yes. She was a genius with puff pastry. How is your mother, dear?”

“She’s fine. Thank you for asking,” Dakota replied. In that moment, I loved her even more—for her grace, her dignity, and her self-control. She had more class than the purest bluebloods in this room.

The house lights dimmed in a final warning. 

I sighed and traced a finger over Dakota’s temple. “I’ve got to go. Let me take you to our table. We’ll finish this later.”

Over the years, I’d given hundreds of speeches, but none of them meant as much to me as this one. In spite of her numerous flaws, my mother had given a large portion of her time and money to assisting children with disabilities. It was a topic near and dear to her heart. To see her honored posthumously warmed my soul.

From behind the podium, I spoke of my mother’s dreams for the charity and felt a profound sadness that she’d never see my child. To fend off the ache, I concentrated on Dakota, seated with Venetia and Beckett at our table in front of the stage. As I brought the speech to a close, Dakota mouthed the words “I love you” to me. I smiled back, thinking of all the ways I’d like to remove her dress later, then my gaze connected with Maxwell’s.

My father was seated at the next table, Rayna at his side. Her children and their spouses occupied the remaining chairs. The sight of their pseudo family sparked a fire in my gut. Not once, during my mother’s lifetime, had he ever attended the Gala. He’d treated my mother terribly, disowned Venetia, and driven Vanessa to a different continent, not to mention the anguish he’d caused Dakota. And there he sat, a smug smile on his face, taking credit for something in which he’d played little, if any, part.

“Fantastic speech.” He clapped me on the shoulder after dinner. “Your mother would be proud.”

“We both know the only reason you’re here is to try and boost your public image.” I shrugged away his hand.

“Can we get a few pictures from you?” A team of photographers descended upon us, eager for a rare photo of father and son together.

“Of course. Please.” Maxwell tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves. I straightened my bow tie. We both smiled. The cameras flashed. “And don’t forget the tax deductions,” he added smugly. “Which I desperately need right now.”

“Mother couldn’t drag you to this event with a team of wild horses,” I said. To the photographers, I added, “That’s enough.” I couldn’t continue the pretense of civility for another second without my head exploding.

 “It seems that my new wife is also a patron of the less fortunate. From my viewpoint, this night is a win-win situation. My wife is happy, the public sees me as a saint, and I get to write the whole thing off.” With the lift of a finger, he summoned a waiter to refill his glass of scotch. Despite his recent financial issues, he still had a flock of minions at his side, waiting to fulfill his every desire and feed his ego.

The photographers continued to snap candid shots. When I didn’t reply to Maxwell, his gaze followed mine to Dakota. She stood a few paces away, chatting with Venetia. And on the other side of them stood Blackwood, eyeing my wife like a delicious side of beef. Cocky bastard.

“Looks like Blackwood’s got his eye on Dakota.” Maxwell chuckled. “Better keep watch on him. He’ll have her flat on her back and his hand in her purse the minute you take your eyes off him.”

My fingers curled into fists. One punch would put him in his place. Instead, I drew in a deep breath and calmed my temper. “I trust Dakota. Maybe you should be more concerned with your own wife. I hear she’s very fond of her tennis instructor.” 

A crimson tide rushed up Maxwell’s neck.

“Samuel, it’s so nice to see you.” Mimi Barrett sidled up to me. The frothy pink layers of her ball gown flounced around her. Although I hadn’t seen her in years, she looked pretty much the same—nondescript brown hair, round face, pretty eyes. When I’d screwed her in the coat closet, I’d been drunk off my ass, and the details of the night escaped me. By the secretive smile on Mimi’s lips, she hadn’t forgotten any of it.

“Good evening.” I gave her a nod then searched for Dakota. Blackwood had wormed his way into her circle and was smiling devilishly at her. She tipped back her head, amused by something he said. A knife of white-hot jealousy sliced into my chest.

“Mother said to come find you. They’re about to begin the auction.” One of the photographers lifted his camera. Mimi placed a hand on my back and leaned in until her breasts mashed against my arm. A camera flashed, and I flinched. What was it with women always touching me? I shifted away from her. “You’re the star attraction tonight.”

Her words barely registered as a surge of testosterone robbed me of coherent thought. Blackwood had Dakota’s hand in his again. More photographers nudged into the circle around us. I scowled. “No more pictures.”

Mimi marched into my personal space. The crowd closed in behind her, blocking Dakota from sight. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing.”

When Mimi moved aside, panic replaced irritation. I scanned the room for my wife. She was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Blackwood. Xavier appeared at my side. Despite his flamboyant appearance, he’d mastered the art of being invisible unless needed. Tonight he wore a black tuxedo, at my insistence, but his ruffled shirt was hot pink and matched his sequined socks.

“What auction?” I asked him.

“You volunteered to have lunch with the highest bidder.” Mimi continued to bounce and weave, fighting to hold my gaze.

“Did I?” I arched an eyebrow at my assistant.

“Don’t get all prickly with me,” Xavier said, affecting a wounded tone. “You agreed to this last year.”

“I did not.” Irritation sharpened my tone. I had nothing against giving back to the community, but I needed to find Dakota and get her away from Blackwood.

“No, no, you can’t back out!” Mimi’s lips formed an O. She pressed a hand to her breast. “It’s too late.”

I glared at Xavier. “Fine. I’ll do it, but I blame you for this.”

“Of course you do.” He smoothed the satin lapels of his jacket, features brightening, his tone placating. “And that’s why you’re giving me a raise.”

“Don’t count on it,” I replied, knowing full well that I would. 

Mimi hooked her arm through my elbow and smiled brightly. “Great. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

“Find my wife,” I said to Xavier. “And have her meet me backstage. Pronto.”

As it turned out, Xavier didn’t have to find Dakota. She was already backstage. With Blackwood. My blood pressure leaped twenty points at the sight of the cheap-suit-wearing, butt-kissing, backstabber standing next to my wife. Most of the time, other men’s interest in Dakota amused me. But not this time. Not tonight. Our time together was precious, and I had the curious sensation that she was slipping away from me. Two long strides brought me to her side. I didn’t take the time to analyze the root cause of my irritation. I only sought to claim what was mine from his money-grubbing slimy fingers.

Blackwood caught my glare. “Seaforth, I was just telling your wife about some of our escapades in college.”

Dakota turned soft, liquid eyes to meet mine. An amused smile bowed her lips. My heart melted for the thousandth time. She embodied everything I ever wanted in life for myself and for our children. That smile belonged to me. Screw Blackwood.

“Whatever he’s telling you, you can’t believe it,” I said, only half joking. My college years had been a dark period. Fast women and excessive partying had provided a distraction from our divorce. Looking back on that time threatened to reopen the freshly healed wound of heartbreak, something I didn’t care to do. Not now, when we’d come so far, when life looked rosier than ever.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Dakota said. “You’ve got some explaining to do.” 

I tried to dissect her tone, to determine if she was teasing or serious.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” Mimi wedged her body between us. Fran, pseudo date at her side, joined the group. Our eyes met above the others’ heads. Aside from Dakota, I trusted Fran more than anyone else in the room. Warning sparked in her gaze. I nodded in acknowledgment.

A dozen other victims clustered around the stage entrance, waiting for their turn at the auction block. Although I hated being put on display, the event would garner a pretty sum for my mother’s charity. Anticipation vibrated through the dimly lit room. Makeup artists flitted from person to person. One of them tried to powder my face. I brushed her hand away. Dakota laughed. My heart skipped a beat at the lilting sound.

“Mimi Barrett, this is my wife, Dakota.” Mimi continued to flutter at my elbow like a pesky fly.

Her posture stiffened. “Oh? Of course you are. I should have known from your dress. Everyone is talking about it.”

“And what are they saying?” The smile slipped from Dakota’s lips.

“Yes, what are they saying?” Fran insinuated herself into the conversation. “I’d be interested to know, since it’s one of mine.”

Mimi’s fair skin turned bright red. Blackwood laughed a little too loudly, while Dakota narrowed her eyes in my direction. Bitsy ended the situation by clapping her hands and calling the chaos to order. Before I could draw Dakota aside, Bitsy shooed them all out the door.