Socially, I stay away from women like Laura Drake. They’re too much like Alyssa. Too many things can go wrong. That’s the one thing I’ve learned, the one thing that has stuck when nothing else would. I make an exception for no one. Ever.
Yet here I am, faced with an exception I didn’t even know I was making.
She speaks slowly and deliberately as she moves away from me like a spooked deer. “What the hell is going on?”
Although I’m every bit as shocked as she is, I slip effortlessly into the calm of my training. It’s been my safe haven for years.
“I could ask you the same thing. I think we both have some explaining to do.”
“I don’t have any explaining to do! You know all there is to know. I didn’t lie,” she snaps.
She’s magnificent in her anger. Laura Drake, I’m sure, is too cool to get angry, Samantha Jansen too sweet and mousy. Yet this girl, this amalgamation…she’s a fiery collision of the two. I’m intrigued. Tempted beyond what I’ve ever been tempted before. To know her, to open her up. To break her.
That’s what makes her dangerous to me. But it’s what makes me most dangerous to her. I’ve been here before. And I swore never to come here again.
I should tell her to go. To leave and never look back. But first, I want answers. I want to know. I need to know…
“I didn’t lie either.”
“You told me your name was Alec Brand. Unless I’m really off on the spelling, I think that’s quite different from Buraquinho.”
“Buraquinho is my family name. It’s very difficult to pronounce.” She eyes me skeptically. “Also I had…reasons for wanting to separate myself from it. Not unlike the way you live your life, keeping some areas isolated from others.”
“You told me you were a consultant.”
“I am. I own a mental health consulting business that services the Southeast. ABC Consulting. It’s perfectly legitimate. I didn’t lie about that either. Unlike you. I seriously doubt that you keep the books for your sister’s business.”
Her cheeks, already rosy with anger, turn a brighter red. I struck a nerve. But, more importantly, I’m right.
“There are security reasons for me to keep Laura Drake separate.”
“And I have my reasons. I’m not angry and you shouldn’t be either. We both have secrets. Everyone does. I wasn’t trying to mislead you or hurt you. I just didn’t tell you everything. Just like you didn’t tell me everything.” I keep my silence as she processes my logic. I watch her closely, so closely that I see when her anger begins to fade. I know it’s being replaced by fear and uncertainty when a frown wrinkles her brow and she starts to chew her lip. “If it makes you feel any better, at least your secret is bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. I could lose everything if I ever told who you are and what I know about you. You, on the other hand…”
Her eyes search mine. I hold her gaze steadily, letting the truth of my words sink in, letting them wrap around her like a cocoon of safety. She really is in a far better position than I am. But I have no fear of what she might do or say. While we both have a lot to lose, her fall would be a very public one, while mine would barely make the local news. That is my security. That’s how I’ll use her fear to keep this from getting ugly.
She says nothing, just continues to watch me, nibbling her lip anxiously.
I clear my throat and step further away from her, giving her a buffer, both physical and emotional.
“Since you’re already here,” I say, making my way to the cleverly-concealed bar against one wall, “you might as well have a drink.”
There’s a pause before I hear her sharp, judgmental reply.
“It’s eleven a.m.”
“Yes, it is. But my body is still on Eastern Standard Time.”
“It’s only two o’clock there.”
I shrug as I pour a finger of perfectly aged scotch into each of two snifters. “Right you are, but I think we’ve both earned a little liquid relaxation, don’t you?” I ask, turning with a glass in each hand.
She’s still standing near the door, looking like she’ll bolt if it so much as cracks open. It’s incongruous—seeing her react this way while dressed as the confident Laura Drake. It’s just a testament to how dramatically I underestimated Samantha Jansen. She’s so much more than meets the eye!
I walk to the sofa, situated directly across from the fireplace, and I hold one glass out to her. I see her eyes dart from my face to the glass and back again. When, after a few seconds, she has neither moved nor spoken, I try to reason with her.
“You were all set to explore a very sexual relationship with me and now you won’t sit in a professional office and have a drink?”
“I was not going—”
“Don’t lie, Samantha,” I interrupt sharply. “It doesn’t become you.”
I set her snifter on a coaster on one end of the coffee table and I take a seat on the couch at the opposite end. I cross my legs and throw my arm over the back of the cushion in a non-threatening manner as I sip my drink. The alcohol burns all the way down, not unlike this whole situation.
I know it’s for the best. I shouldn’t have been…dabbling again anyway. I should see this unfortunate turn of events as fortunate. Now, we are both safe from me.
“This doesn’t have to end uncomfortably. We can be civil, have a drink before you go your way and I go mine. Our goodbye doesn’t have to be ugly.”
But, judging by the expression on her face, it very much will be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Samantha
I was all right until he added that last part. The word “goodbye” shakes me. I don’t know why. It’s not like this—whatever “this” is—has really had a chance to become anything yet. In fact, a large part of it has blossomed inside my head, where Alec and Mason have become inextricably entwined.
The part that stings is the loss of hope. The loss of the hope of more. The lure of it. I would never have admitted it to Chris or myself, but, deep down, I had begun to agree with her in thinking that Alec might be the one to help me move beyond the past. Despite the flip-flopping and indecision, ultimately I was hoping Alec was my Mason—the destructive force that can be extremely caring in the right hands. In my hands.
Pain at the thought of this being over before it started, however, is only part of what has me pausing in my retreat. The other motivator is the idea of getting some answers. I don’t particularly like the thought of me answering Alec’s questions, but I do like the thought of him being agreeable to answering some of mine.