Page 96 of The Love You Fight For
“Your father will be displeased,” he says slowly, and Sam sighs.
“Yes, I am fully aware that you are going to tattle to Daddy that I hurt your feelings, Ashton. I do not care. Go fucking home.”
Ashton huffs, then stomps toward the car and climbs through the open back door before slamming it in the driver’s face. The driver flinches, then scurries around to the driver’s side door, climbs in, and peels off.
I turn to the security guards.
“You may go too,” Sam says to them. “Thank you for your quick response time. I’ll be sure your boss is informed.”
They nod their thanks, give me one last wary look, then head back into the building. When they’re gone, Sam takes my hand and gives it a tug.
“Let’s go, Rambo.”
I chuckle, but she doesn’t laugh. She’s scowling as I trail her through the lobby and to a private elevator that requires her to punch in a code before we can take it to her condo. When the elevator stops, it opens right into her foyer.
And what the fuck.
Now I understand why she calls The Outhouse Penthouse a cave.
This place is massive, and my modern remodel can’t compare to the luxury dripping from every surface. I follow Sam into a gourmet kitchen that looks like it’s never been used, then she whirls on me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Anger flares in her eyes.
I jerk my head back at the hostility in her tone.
“Why haven’t you responded to any of my texts, Sam?”
Her jaw drops in an exasperated laugh.
“That’s what this is about? Because I haven’t texted you back?”
“Yeah, it is. And it’s also about you just disappearing without a word. I’m fucking worried, Sam. You said you’d stay in contact, but then you went radio silent.”
“I’m fine,” she snaps. “I’m fucking fine, see? You wasted a trip.”
“Oh yeah, you look fine. You looked real fine being felt up on the sidewalk by that rich dick in a suit, too.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Don’t be jealous, Christopher, it doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m not jealous, Sam, I’m pissed off.”
“Why?” she shouts, and I toss my hands up.
“Because you’re giving me fucking whiplash. Because I don’t know where the fuck I stand with you. You spend the night in my bed. You scream my name, beg me to fill you with my cum, and assoon as we’re done, you run back here to your castle and your butlers and your overdressed, overconfident lap dog of a suitor. Or whatever the hell he is to you.”
I close the distance between us so we’re just a foot apart, so I can clearly see every emotion pass over her face. She’s angry. She’s insulted. She feels guilty. But she’s also sad. So I give her honesty.
“But mostly, because I’m worried about you.”
She bristles and flicks her eyes away from me.
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’m aware, Sam. Trust me. I know that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need anyone’s help. You can fight your own battles. You can handle all of it alone. But we went over this. You don’t have to. I’m right fucking here. You said you wouldn’t shut me out again. You said you’d let me be your peace.”
She closes her eyes and breathes through her nose. When I reach up to touch her, she takes a step back, and I let my hand fall to my side.
