Chapter 21

Blair

I lifted the gifts from their spot next to the dresser and steadied myself. I hurt a little from the escapade in the bathroom but I liked that. It’s something to remember him by. God, as if I wanted to focus on that now.

Christmas morning had arrived. This was the last day before we left, and I’d finally be free of my mother, whether she liked to accept it or not.

I touched my fingers to the back pocket of my jeans and edged them around the outline of the picture of my father. Dead and gone before I’d had a chance to know him. How could I trust that what my mother said was true? She’d lied before.

Yeah, not that you’re the authority on truth here. This whole weekend has been a lie.

Had it? The joy that enveloped me whenever Samson came close wasn’t a lie but I wanted it to be.

I hefted the wrapped packages and walked for the door. It swung open before I could reach it, Samson’s tan hand held the knob. “Christ, there you are. I was beginning to lose all hope.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. But you’re going to miss Christmas at this rate.” Samson shifted his grip, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Okay, that was weird. Very unlike him to be nervous about... anything. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Come downstairs.” He took the packages from me and carried them.

I followed him, did my best not to drool over his tight ass in those even tighter jeans. Was it so wrong that I felt things for him? Yes, it’s wrong. He has sex with people for money. What did that make me? A client? I shuddered at the very thought.

I had to be more than that. This is crazy. Why are you even thinking about this right now? None of it matters.

“There she is.” Regina waved at me from next to the tree. “There’s my girl. Merry Christmas.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “And to you, and you, Joseph.” I kept my tongue as civil as possible, the words light and frothy, though it was a betrayal of the emotions now streaking through my veins. Anger, primarily.

I shoved them all down into the pit of my soul and trundled through to the living room. Samson placed the gifts under the tree, while Joseph looked on, clutching a glass of bourbon, expression already dazed.

The Christmas tree sparkled - multicolored lights flashed and were reflected in the tinsel draped from branch to branch. Christmas balls and trimmings in multitudes of colors nestled between the needles, bringing festivity. I could only match it with bitterness.

“What do you say we sing some carols?” Regina asked, opulent as usual - she’d chosen a long silvery dress for this morning, and a fur-lined coat. She looked ready to step out into the Russian wild lands, like some grand star from a ballet or an opera.

I looked down at my jeans and paint-stained sweater. Man, were we opposites.

“I think I’ll bring the tenor to the arrangement,” Joseph said and tipped the glass toward Samson. “No offense there, my guy. You don’t look like the type who enjoys the subtle art of singing.”

Samson quit arranging the gifts and shrugged. “I’m more of a drummer,” he replied.

“There isn’t a drum set, though,” Joseph slurred, a little cross-eyed now. Was it just me, or was there some hidden tension between the two men? I couldn’t see why that’d be. They hadn’t shared more than a few words.

I slipped my arm through Samson’s and he kissed my forehead, turning away from Joseph’s drunkenness. “You look beautiful this morning,” he whispered. “Nice and clean, too.” He winked.

My skin grew hot and I pressed my side to his, allowing myself this moment of weakness with him, because it’d be over soon.

“Forget the carols,” Mom announced and swayed across the living room. She took a seat next to Joseph but didn’t touch him. “Let’s unwrap presents. That ought to be fun.”

“I’d enjoy it,” Samson replied and surprised me. Why? It’s not like any of the presents matter to –

The buzzer at the front door interrupted my train of thought.

“What on earth?” Regina sniffed and made to rise. “Who could that be?”

“I think it’s for Blair,” Samson replied, evenly.

My heart thudded against my rib cage and got stuck there - finally, it restarted, and I took a breath. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Samson said. “Probably. You’d better check it out.”

“What did you do?” I asked. And why had he done it? This was a business deal. I’d fallen in too deep with him, and the hope for more had grown but it was still a business deal. “Samson?”

The buzzer rang again.

“Oh, how romantic,” Mom said and clasped her hands together, sighing. “A surprise gift.”

Joseph gave a mutinous grunt.

“Go get it, gorgeous,” Samson whispered and kissed my temple.

I didn’t want to accept anything like this – it was wrong, wasn’t it? Yet, the curiosity had already gotten the better of me. What had he bought that needed delivering?

I squared my shoulders and walked to the front of the house, past the staircase and into that terracotta entryway. I pressed the intercom button. “Hello?”

“Delivery for Blair Scott.”

“I’m Blair,” I said, stupidly.

“Great. Could you open the gate please, ma’am?”

I pressed the button without thinking.

Footsteps tracked up behind me, and a hand landed on my shoulder. “You’ll need this,” Samson said and dangled a coat in front of me. “You’ll have to go outside to fetch it.”

“Wait for me!” Regina squealed. “I want to see what it is.”

Great. I’d get to share this moment, whatever it was, with everyone. Including surly and semi-drunk Joseph who’d just – had he just burped?

Samson unlocked the front door for me, then helped me into my coat – puffy with faux fur around the rim of the hood. We stepped out into the cold, and the first thing that caught my attention was the pine tree out front, the one we hadn’t decorated.

It was coated in snow, apart from the pine needles that poked through at the ends of branches. I looked past it and huffed out a breath, which misted in front of my face.

An Audi TT cruised up the drive, the whiteness of the snow reflected in the metallic sheen along its silver sides. The driver wore a puffy leather jacket and a peak cap, of all things.

I frowned. Samson had hired an Audi chauffer? Or what? What the hell was this? It couldn’t be a flower delivery.

“Oh, Samson. Oh, my heavens.” Mom covered her mouth with both hands.

“What? I don’t get it.” My brain had numbed.

“Shit in a handbasket,” Joseph mumbled. “Expect me to compete with that?” He swung his glass outward and splashed bourbon onto the front steps. “Fucking asshole” The undertaker spun around and marched inside again, grumbling under my breath.

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s for you, Blair,” Samson said and stroked the back of my coat, producing a swish of skin on material.

My mouth dropped.

The driver parked the Audi in front of us and got out, smiling broadly. “Are you Blair Scott?”

“Ye-yes.” Nope, mouth and brain both checked out.

“She’s all yours,” he said and handed me the keys. I took them and stared at them, lying in the flat of my palm – two silver and black, and a key ring bearing the rings of the make. So much for my beat-up Hyundai.

“Is this a joke?’ I asked and looked up at Samson.

“Of course not,” he said. “You need a car.” He lifted his gaze and looked over my head. “Only the best for my fiancée.”

Mom let out a shriek behind me. “This is fantastic. Oh, my heavens, Blair, you’re the luckiest woman alive. You’ve got yourself a man who really cares about you. Who’ll look after you.”

“I… thanks,” I said to Samson but it felt empty. This has to be a stunt. There’s no way he could afford this on whatever salary an escort makes, right?

“You don’t seem pleased,” Samson said.

“I’m just overwhelmed. Actually, can I talk to you for a second?” I tucked the keys into my palm and squeezed until the jagged edges bit into my flesh. “In private.”

“Of course, gorgeous,” Samson said and slipped a hand down my back. “Regina, would you mind calling my friend here a cab?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Mom swept toward the driver and took him by the arm. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Do you own a dealership, by chance?”

I grimaced and tugged on Samson’s arm, then led him through to the entryway and into the study just off to one side of it. The room held a treasure trove of dusty books – none of which my mother had touched in years – and a distressed desk bearing the only computer in the house, off now and totally outdated.

Samson shut the door behind us, then waited, arms folded across that broad chest.

“What was that about?” I asked. “Are you trying to make my mother jealous or something?”

“Huh?”

“Is it part of trying to convince her that I’ll be fine out of school? Like, that you can look after me?” I scratched my forehead, then opened the palm that bore those keys. “I’m sorry, I just don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get, Blair. The car is yours.”

I leaned my butt against the desk’s edge and tried to absorb that information. It just wouldn’t stick. “What, for the day? How did you afford hiring it?”

“I didn’t hire it, for fuck’s sake,” Samson said, and his eyes wrinkled at the corners, and he broke into a smile. “I bought it for you.”

“For real?”

“Yes, for real,” he replied. “You told me your car is fucked up, so I bought it for you.”

He remembered that? I’d told him at the beginning of the weekend when we’d barely known each other. Shit, we still barely knew each other, didn’t we? “Are you crazy? What - why? How?”

“There’s something you need to know,” Samson said. “I couldn’t figure out a better way to tell you.”

“You can start by explaining how you can afford this. Last I checked, escorts can’t afford to just throw money away on friggin’ Audis.”

A thump rang out on the other side of the study door, and I froze. What the hell?

Thump-crash.

The door burst inward, and a figure tumbled into the study.

I squealed and jumped on the spot. Samson rounded on the source of the noise, holding out his arms to protect me.

“An escort?!” Joseph straightened and pointed at Samson. “You brought an escort to your mother’s house?”

Oh, god. Oh, god, oh, god, ohgad, ohfak. The words blurred into a mush in my mind. This wasn’t happening. Not after everything we’d been through to get to this point.

“It’s not what you think,” Samson said, evenly, and lifted his hands.

“It’s exactly what I think. You’re a sicko,” Joseph said, and his chest puffed out as if this actually made him happy. Maybe it did. His eyes glinted behind those wire-framed glasses.

“Joseph –”

But my mother’s lover didn’t listen. He spun on his heel and sprinted – more like sloshed – out into the hall. “Regina!” he shrieked. “Regina!” He ran for the living room, fell and smacked down on his face on the terracotta tiles. “Aw fwack.”

“Joseph, stop,” Samson commanded.

I’d lost my words. I’d lost everything.

The undertaker scuffled to his feet and sprinted out of sight, screaming my mother’s name like he a toddler telling on a little brother.

I held my forehead and waited for the aftermath.

“WHAT?!” came the shriek from deeper inside the mansion.