Page 61 of Night Shift

“Did you have to climb out from under the perfectly beautiful Dr. Vanessa Sinclair to rescue poor, pathetic Sam? Is that why you came rushing to help me tonight? Out of pity?” she bit out.

“Enough!” I roared, my patience at its limit. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Samantha. We can discuss this later, but not now.”

With those words, a heavy silence fell over us once more.

She crossed her arms and turned her head away, staring out the window.

The tension in the car was thick, an invisible force that seemed to push against the leather seats and fog the windows. It was as if the air itself was charged with all the words we weren’t saying, with every emotion we’d kept buried since that weekend at the cabin.

The drive continued, each mile stretching longer than the last.

Finally the car pulled into the driveway of my townhouse, the security lights illuminating our arrival. The quiet was now a temporary truce.

Tonight was about ensuring her safety, but the road to understanding each other had become precarious at best.

As the garage door closed behind us, Samantha remained seated in the passenger seat, her arms crossed over her chest and her gaze fixed on the floor. We needed to address the unresolved issues between us, but for now, she needed rest.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” I said.

She huffed, opened the door, and stepped out.

I led her through the door connecting the garage to the first floor.

“This is it,” I said, attempting a tone of casual hospitality as we stepped into the foyer. “I know it’s late, but let me give you a quick tour. Since I work odd hours, I’ve invested in a sophisticated security system.” I gestured toward the control panel by the door. “There are discreet cameras and motion sensors placed throughout the house. You’ll be safe here; I can tell you that.”

We moved through the kitchen, its sleek lines and stainless-steel appliances catching the dim light filtering in from the rest of the house. Not lingering, I guided her through the living and entertainment area. The house suddenly seemed too large, its cool tones and minimal design too impersonal.

“There’s a screened-in porch out back, an office, and a home gym down here,” I mentioned in passing as I gestured to my left. At this point I was talking more to fill the silence than to give her information as she walked along behind me. The tour was brisk—a deliberate choice to avoid any more unwanted discussions or questions.

We ascended the stairs, and I steered clear of indicating where my room was located, taking her straight to one of my guest bedroom suites. Setting her things down, I faced her. “Here you go. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

“Try to get some rest,” I suggested gently. “It’s nearly daybreak.”

With that, I made a swift exit and retreated to my room, leaving Samantha standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom. Her face was unreadable. We both had a lot to process after everything that had been said in the car. The tough conversations could come later.

How had everything become so twisted between us? The question lingered, unanswered, as I paced the length of my room. Did I still stand a chance with her? Did I want to be with her after…Conan?

The way he and Sam had kissed on the dance floor, their lips locked together with such passion, had stunned me. An image of them flashed in my mind, reigniting a sense of betrayal. I had stood there at the gala, invisible to her, while she was completely absorbed in the moment with my brother. The memory burned like acid in my chest. When Conan had broken off the kiss, the look of sheer ecstasy on her face had stung worse than any physical blow ever could.

Anger surged through me again as I remembered how they’d hurried away from the ballroom, rushing toward the elevator that led to the hotel guest rooms. I’d assumed they were going to his room to fuck all night, and the thought made me sick to my stomach.

“Conan,” I growled, clenching my fists so tight that my knuckles turned white. He’d given me such a hard time about taking Sam to my cabin, accusing me of taking advantage of a naive young nurse who worked for me. Yet, there he’d been, seducing her at the gala just after she’d been attacked in the hospital’s parking lot. Hypocrisy at its finest.

Unable to contain my frustration any longer, I slammed my fist against the wall. The pain succeeded in momentarily distracting me. I forced myself to undress, lie down in bed, and try to sleep. I fumed over the fact that Sam had been invading even my dreams for months now, dreams where I’d willingly handed over all control to her. The thought made me shudder. I was a man who never gave anyone control. It was a trait that had served me well in my career and personal life.

“Dammit, Samantha,” I muttered into the darkness, running a hand through my hair in exasperation. “How are you affecting me like this?”

Throughout my life, I had prided myself on knowing exactly what women wanted and needed, never once feeling out of my depth or unsure of where I stood. But with Sam, everything was different—this was uncharted territory. She was a temptation, and I was drawn to her despite the chaos she’d brought into my life.

As the night gave way to the faintest hints of dawn, sleep remained elusive. I’ll confront her in a few hours, I told myself. Set things straight. Demand answers.

The complexity of our situation, compounded by my brother’s involvement, left me adrift in a sea of emotions, and I had no compass to navigate it.

In the silence of my room, the only certainty was the turmoil that was nagging at me. My long-held restraint was teetering on its breaking point.

Chapter sixteen

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