Chapter 19
19
“ H ello, Samantha. What are you doing here?”
If Dylan’s scintillating kiss hadn’t already sent Sam into a tailspin, the sight of Max Sherpov staring down his aristocratic nose at her would have.
What the hell was he doing here?
She schooled her face into what she hoped was a mask of nonchalance, while her insides churned with dread.
“Hi, Max. I’m here on business.”
“Business?” Max raised an eyebrow and glanced at Dylan, at her dress, and back again.
Resisting the urge to tug at her bodice, she squared her shoulders. “Max, this is Dylan Harmon,” knowing the instant Max that had entered the elevator her cover would be blown.
Dylan stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Max.”
Though by the dour expression on his face, Sam knew he didn’t mean it.
“Max is an old friend of my family,” she said, compelled to fill the awkward silence that descended on them.
As the doors slid open on the ground floor, Max shook his head, the supercilious smirk that she despised marring his haughty features.
“Come now, Samantha, I’m much more than that.”
Staring at Max with all the disdain she could muster, she said, “If you’ll excuse us, Max, our table is waiting. Nice seeing you again.”
She slipped a hand into Dylan’s and strolled from the elevator, hoping her wobbly legs would hold her upright, at least until they reached the ballroom.
Thankfully, Dylan seemed just as anxious to escape Max’s overbearing presence, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they were led to their table.
He didn’t speak until they sat, giving her valuable time to compose herself. Seeing Max had shaken her more than she cared to admit. Her stomach roiled with anxiety as she knew she’d have to answer questions that may have far-reaching consequences for her future with the man still holding her hand.
“Nice company you keep.” Dylan’s judgemental tone irked and when he released her hand, she felt oddly bereft.
“Hey, I don’t pick my parent’s friends.”
“Is that all he is to you?”
Sam resisted the urge to stick her fingers down her throat and make vomiting sounds at the thought of Max being anything but a friend to her.
“What do you think?”
“I think that old guy is smitten with you.” She barely heard his “not that I blame him.”
She shrugged, hating herself for having to perpetuate the lie she’d woven. “He means nothing to me. My parents seem to like him, which is more than I can say for me.”
“He acted as if he owned you.” Dylan persisted, gnawing at her waning resistance. “Especially that wisecrack about meaning more to you.”
Sam couldn’t hold out much longer. She needed to tell Dylan some snippet of truth, otherwise he wouldn’t stop until he dragged the whole, sordid story from her.
She sighed, wishing she hadn’t started down the disastrous road her hare-brained scheme had managed to steer her.
“My parents think Max would make good husband material.”
“ What ?” Dylan reared back, appalled. “He’s old enough to be your father.”
“Try telling that to my folks.”
She could hardly believe that after all the years her parents had lived in Australia, they hadn’t lost any of their European heritage, hanging onto archaic traditions with grim determination.
“But why?”
Sam had to tread carefully if she didn’t want her entire lie to unravel before her eyes. “They have old-fashioned values, believing every woman needs a man to take care of her, to provide for her. A woman’s place should be in the home, not the boardroom.”
She watched the shock register in his eyes and hoped his interrogation would end sooner rather than later.
“Then why let you attend university? Why the business degree?”
Sam shrugged, remembering the fateful day she’d enrolled in the course and plucked up the courage to tell her parents.
“Simple, really. I blackmailed them.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I need to hear this story.”
“I told them if they didn’t let me attend university, I’d elope with Frank Larson.”
Dylan shook his head. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Who is Frank Larson?”
“My high school sweetheart. Not that he knew anything about it.”
She chuckled at the memory of freckly, brace-face Frank, wondering what she’d ever seen in her dorky lab partner. “I used the idea of him to frighten my parents into giving in to my desperation to attend university. Told them that Frank and I were madly in love, and if they didn’t listen to me I’d run away to Vegas with Frank and get married.”
She rolled her eyes. “As if I’d be stupid enough to do that, even if Frank returned my unrequited love.”
Dylan chuckled. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
He twisted a stray curl around his fingertip, the tenderness in his gaze causing her heart to flip-flop. “Let’s make a deal. For tonight, there will be no more talk of Frank, Max, or any other men you have hidden in your past. Tonight, there’s just you and me.”
Her breath hitched as he leaned toward her and for one crazy moment she thought he would kiss her like he had in the elevator.
Instead, he whispered in her ear, “Does that sound like a plan to you?”
Sam nodded, as he planted a soft kiss near her temple before he pulled away to acknowledge the first of the other table occupants to arrive.
However, as the evening proceeded and she endured the endless small talk, the boring speeches, and picked at the food on her plate, she was constantly aware of the man at her side and his overwhelming presence.
And unable to stop thinking about what would happen later when he walked her back to her room.
Sneaking a quick peek at Dylan, she knew she’d be a goner if he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. Logically, she’d be flirting with disaster if they took it all the way, changing their relationship status before her three months were up.
But what about your heart?
Unfortunately, she’d already lost that particular organ to Dylan Harmon, and he held it right where she didn’t want it—in the palm of his hand.