“Please don’t force me to go to the papers and tell them what a lousy husband you were and how you sped up the divorce to sleep with
my
attorney. You’ll be finished and so will your friend over there.” Amber’s voice was barely more than a whisper.
“I refuse to lend you money until the bank releases your funds just so you can go ahead and get another abortion. And if you go to the papers, I’d insist on a paternity test and your game would be up.”
Tears streaked Amber’s cheeks. “By then the damage would be done. No union would touch you and your rugby playing days would be over. Your precious clients wouldn’t want to do business with a man who renounces his own child. Besides, I don’t want an abortion. I really want this baby.”
Brent sighed. “If you go to the papers, you won’t get the alimony you crave. Amber, I don’t trust you. Go back to whoever impregnated you and screw them for the money. Heaven knows, you excel at it.”
His callous words shocked Samantha into rising from the chair. She clamped her mouth shut. It was not her place to interfere, but she couldn’t stand by while he treated her client—ex-client—like dirt. But she had to.
“But…”Amber stuttered.
He dug his mobile from his pocket. “Should I call security?”
For several breathless seconds, the pair glared at each other, then Amber turned toward Samantha, jutted her finger toward her. “I trusted you.”
Blood drained from Samantha’s face. She had no defense against the accusations and her legal mind had played out all the possible scenarios. Amber had nailed this one. There was no way she’d ever be able to practice her brand of law again should Amber choose to expose her relationship with Brent. Unable to rebut her claim, Samantha just shrugged.
Brent took Amber by the arm and turned her to face him. His icy whisper chilled Samantha to the bone. “If you as much as breathe Samantha’s name, in public or private, I’ll make sure the high society friends who got you addicted to drugs in the first place, know exactly where you came from. I’m sure they’ll help me return you to the gutter where I found you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
He let go of her arm and pointed toward the door. “Now. Get. Out. Of. My. House.”
Brent strode toward Samantha. He tried to drape an arm around her shoulder, but she turned out of the embrace. She couldn’t even look at herself now without wanting to puke, and him touching her… The amount of self-loathing would kill her.
An ear-splitting crash followed as Amber slammed the door and Samantha exhaled slowly. Beside her, a pale Brent worked his jaw before he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. His normally full lips now resembled the thin goalposts he often visited on the rugby field.
Without a word, he turned, walked to the bar and poured himself a whiskey. Her mouth opened to protest about the early hour, but she snapped it shut.
Also not your place, Samantha.
This whole scene was not her place. It felt like she’d been transported into some B-rated movie where she played the part of the whore.
Brent pressed the glass against his forehead. “Sorry she dragged you into it.”
So was she, but she wasn’t going to say so with him looking like he’d just lost his best friend. Instead, she put some more distance between them, opened the patio doors and walked outside.
“I owe you an explanation.”
She jumped when he spoke behind her. “You don’t owe me anything, Brent. We had sex, nothing more.”
“Do you honestly believe it was just sex?” He held up his hand. “No, don’t answer. I don’t think I could handle your brand of honesty right now.”
He paced the length of the patio a few times before he stopped in front of her and lifted her chin with his finger, his blue eyes deathly gray and his face somber.
“I never loved Amber. We got married because it was convenient for me to do so at the time and because she was pregnant.”
She didn’t want to hear his explanation, didn’t want to learn he could father a child while she would never have the privilege. She
so
didn’t want to care. However, she did, and it scared her senseless. She swallowed.
“Convenient?”
“Amber and I used to date in high school. To her, I was a ticket to a good time—an escape from her dirt-poor circumstances and a chance to make something of herself. She targeted boys from rich families. Love never entered into the equation. My business started to do really well and the businessmen I wanted to contract with, required their partners to be respected family men who proved they’d settled down and were serious. Thus, I needed a beautiful wife, a trophy that other men coveted to prove I’m a stable family man.”
He sighed and massaged the back of his neck. “I guess I’m as much to blame for today’s mess as she is. I thought I could use her as a toy, to show off when I needed her and forget about her when I didn’t. She never failed to come through. What she did with the rest of her time, I don’t know and don’t particularly care.”
Samantha touched his arm. “You don’t have to explain.”
He grimaced. “Oh, but I do. You see, what you think matters to me. Probably more than it should.”
Samantha’s heart skittered and she ached to stroke his face, kiss him and tell him it would be okay, she understood. The fact that he cared about her, made matters worse.
“Remember the accident I told you about with the motorcycle?”
She nodded, but remained silent.
“Well it damaged more than just the hipbone and femur. I also lost the ability to ever father a child.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. What a cruel thing to happen to a young man with his whole life ahead of him. She and Brent made a pretty pair—Samantha with her inborn infertility and him with his injury.
“Can’t they fix it? Some operation? Treatment?”
He shook his head. “I made my peace with it a long time ago. Nevertheless, I digress. Although Amber told everyone the baby she expected was mine, I knew it couldn’t be. She had to have cheated on me. I needed her as much as she needed me, so I let it lie and agreed to marry her on the condition she conduct her extra-marital affairs with discretion. She had an abortion the week after we got married. I never touched her again.”
He sighed. “We agreed the marriage would last only a couple of years so she could open her own business to support herself.”
“But you remained married for five years.”
He nodded. “Every time we talked about it, it seemed something came up that made it convenient to stay married.” He ran his fingers through his hair, causing the front to stand up like a woodpecker’s. Despite his serious complexion, he appeared very young, and Samantha swallowed at the lump in her throat.
“I should have divorced her after two years, maybe then today she wouldn’t be so addicted to drugs that she doesn’t even know the identity of her baby’s father.”
“Oh, Brent. You can’t accept responsibility for everyone’s actions. She made her choices and so have you. Maybe I’m biased, and I should be toward my own client, but nobody can lay her drug addiction at your door.”
His shoulders slumped. “If I was worth anything as a husband, I would have noticed it, prevented it and gotten her help.” He turned from her and strode toward the door.
“If you want to leave now, I’ll arrange for the pilot to get the helicopter ready.” He stood motionless in the doorway for a couple of heartbeats. “I would love for you to stay so we really can get to know each other, but I’ll understand if you can’t.”
She nodded. “Give me a while to digest this before I decide.”
She watched him disappear into the house as she sank down onto one of the patio chairs. Why was she still considering staying on? She didn’t need these complications in her life. Her life had been fine before she met him.
And therein lay the problem. Before she met him, she’d never had the opportunity to explore her own sexual passions without the strings of a relationship. This was just sex.
Right
, her mind screeched. If it was just sex, why was she so upset by the selfishness he displayed in marrying Amber? Maybe she should stay and get him out of her system.
But wouldn’t staying make it even harder to let go in the end? They didn’t have a future together, couldn’t have. Staying would merely delay the inevitable parting of ways and maybe complicate matters even more. She paced the length of the patio. She needed some distance from him to make her decision.
Samantha popped her head around the door. “I’m going for a walk.”
His reply was an almost imperceptible nod before he stared into the contents of his glass again and she hurried away. The rustling of the veld around her calmed her nerves and she tried to push all thoughts of Brent from her mind. Two hours later, she returned to the house.
Brent stood by the bar, still twirling a glass of amber liquid and staring into its contents. She took the glass from him and put it on the counter.
“The damage is done. We might as well enjoy a little solitude while it’s still available.”
The tiny smile on his face knotted her insides together and affirmed her decision.
Yes, why not stay a while and see where this leads?
“Are you sure?”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “No, but let’s take it one day at a time.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Are we too late to visit the sugarcane fields?”
A smile broke out on his face. “We are, but tomorrow I’ll wake you earlier.”
He gathered her against him and she slid her arms around his waist.
He pulled her closer and pushed her against the wall. Capturing her hands above her head, he wiggled his thigh between hers. Samantha lifted her chin and met him halfway.
Their lips touched in an explosion of passion, of want, of need. His hands roamed her body, tugging on her clothes and a button ricocheted off the floor. He stilled and the question in his eyes dried her mouth.
“Yes,” she whispered and gasped as he tore the front of her blouse open, the buttons popping in rapid succession and pinged off the walls, the floor.
Her pants landed on the floor together with his. Then his hands lifted her up, onto him, and she flung her legs around his hips.
Behind her, the rough brick wall bit into her naked flesh, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was clinging to his shoulders and enjoying the ride. His teeth scraped over her braless breast, catching the nipple briefly between his teeth before his tongue laved the slight pain.
A flicker of pain dashed across his face and he shifted his stance. She pushed at his shoulders.
“Let me down.”
“No way,” he grumbled and nibbled further on her breast.
“You’re hurt. Just let me off for a second.”
He complied with obvious reluctance and as her feet touched the floor, she grabbed his hand and led him to the couch, pressing him onto his back.
She straddled him and took his cock in her hand, softly stroking it along her wet lips, concentrating on her clit.
Brent grimaced and caught her hand in his. “Condom—in my pants’ pocket.”
“I’m safe. I don’t sleep around.” She shrugged his grip off her hand and continued to stroke him along her cleft.
Beads of sweat lined Brent’s forehead. “We get tested every week.” He shuddered as she nodded and teased the head of his cock against her opening. “Woman, you’d better get it in there. I need to fuck you.”
Happy to oblige, she slid him inside her and partly managed to stifle a gasp as he filled her. Then she rode him and his head dropped backwards. His hands held on to her nipples, increasing the pressure in her pussy.
Gasping for breath, she slammed into him, rotating her hips only to lift up and repeat the process. Over and over, until her need equaled his and they tumbled into the abyss together.
Samantha collapsed on his chest, her hair sticking to her body.
“At least you couldn’t be pregnant,” he said as his breathing returned to normal. He cradled her head in his hands and lifted it so he could see her eyes. “I’m infertile by birth. So even if by some miracle you can conceive, I can’t.”
The blue eyes turned turquoise. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”
She ran her hand over his arm. “I’ve learnt to live with it, just like you.”
Brent pulled one of the throw blankets over them and it was much later when they finally woke.
Chapter Ten
Six weeks later, she glanced at Brent over the rim of her sunglasses. Steam from the hot tub drifted in the afternoon air. He’d been unusually quiet the past couple of days. They still had sex a couple of times a day, especially since his leg had healed so well, but she could tell something bothered him.
Through her connections in the state department, Samantha had arranged for Amber to be admitted to a clinic, and for the past four weeks, Amber had managed to stay off the drugs. Even though it was still too early to determine the damage to the baby accurately, so far it seemed like she’d been very lucky. Mother and baby appeared to be doing well. An uneasy friendship had even started to develop between them, although Brent still refused to talk to Amber.
No, it wasn’t Amber bothering him. Maybe he’d grown tired of Samantha already and needed the thrill of the limelight now that he was healed. Her heart thudded painfully at the thought of saying goodbye to Brent, of not having him in her life. It had taken her less than a week to realize she loved him. Despite his arrogance, he’d managed to pierce the shell she’d built around her heart. Imagining a life without him in it was just too painful and she’d shied away from the thought, electing to pretend their holiday together would never end. Now, she couldn’t avoid reality anymore.
“Are you leaving for England tomorrow?”
Brent concentrated on creating a whirlpool in the water before he looked at her.
“I don’t want to, but I don’t want you to feel pressured if I don’t go.”
She pushed herself up against the brim and shoved the sunglasses to the top of her head.
“Why would I feel pressured if you don’t join the team?”
“I want us to make this permanent.”
He held up his hand when she inhaled sharply. “I’m not saying marriage, at least not yet, but I would like to be part of your life and have you in mine.”