A flailing noodle?
“Understood.” I grimaced.
“Go home. Go to bed.” He patted the side of the car and left.
“A fucking flailing noodle? That was worse than what you said!” I put my head in my hands and rubbed my temples. The blood no longer pooled in my head, but my cheeks were burning hot.
Samantha silently watched me, smirking. “Victor Beaumont might get away with everything, but he certainly still pays for it.”
“Noodle,” I muttered just as the driver opened the door to let us out. “What? We’re already here?” I asked the driver, slowly putting one foot on the ground and then the other.
“Yes, sir. Have a good night,” he said, staring at the ground.
I had a feeling that he’d heard everything and that the second he got back into his limousine, he would bust out laughing and text all of his driver friends to tell them just how dumb I was. I couldn’t blame him. I would do the same thing.
“Come on, Voodoo Noodle. Let’s get you to bed.” Samantha pulled me up the steps as I fumbled with my keys and let us in. “This is definitely not on the side of town I can afford.” She sucked in her breath as we walked inside the marble entry.
“Bedroom is this way. Follow me.” I stumbled down the hall, flipping light switches along the way until I made it to the master bedroom. “Want to see just how noodly my hard-as-a-rock, overcooked noodle is?” I gyrated my hips back and forth before falling over on the bed.
“An overcooked noodle is even softer. I think I’ll pass. Get in bed, oh great Victor Beaumont.” She giggled.
And that was the last thing I remembered.
I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. For a minute, I had no idea where I was or what the hell was going on, but the soft breathing coming from Samantha beside me brought what I remembered of the previous night’s events back to me.
Fuck.
The damn noodle, the flashing blue lights, the police siren—all of it danced around in my throbbing head. I, Victor Beaumont, had been a hot mess, and Samantha had gotten to experience every bit of the disaster. Woe was me.
I eased my way out of bed and headed toward the kitchen. The sun was rising, and I needed coffee.
“You have such a beautiful view of Lake Pontchartrain,” Samantha said, looking out toward the sunrise.
I jumped in the air and dropped my mug on the floor, shattering it. “I didn’t know you were up! I was about to make coffee.”
She knelt and helped me pick up the ceramic pieces. We were both still wearing the same clothes we had worn last night.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. You woke me up, getting out of bed. Ever slept next to a fish out of water? That was you last night and this morning. I’ve never seen someone flip-flop so much. I got up several times to watch you and make sure you weren’t having a seizure.”
“Yeah … about last night. I’m so damn sorry. I didn’t mean to get too crazy, and I certainly didn’t mean to get the police involved. Sheesh.”
“Do you think I’m that stuck-up that I can’t handle a little fun? I had a good time last night. Flailing noodle and all. Now, if that officer had gotten on me or I’d gotten in trouble, then we would have a problem. But, no, it was just you, so I’m good with that. I might be having a little schadenfreude this morning.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
“I might be having a little of that myself,” a voice called from the hall.
“Malcolm! What the hell are you doing here?” My palm tightened around the broken ceramic in my hand. “Shit!” I dropped the pieces back onto the floor.
“I was going to ask you the same thing, little brother. I heard you come in last night but figured I’d wait until morning to see who you were hiding away and banging. Now that I know you’re banging the help, who you told me was off-limits, I think I can go back to bed and rest peacefully.”
The hair on the back of my neck bristled. I took a deep breath and counted to ten in my head.
“The help? Is that how you think of me?” Samantha turned toward me and put her hands on her hips.
“No, not at all. Dickweed over here is just trying to start shit, as usual. Come on; let’s get out of here. I’ll get us a driver.”
“Already leaving? I thought we could all watch the sunrise together. You know I have some clients of my own coming over here in a little bit for a shoot by the lake, a secluded little spot I found. Maybe your employee wants to see what ol’ Malcolm has to offer?” He stepped closer to Samantha. “I pay better than Victor, just so you know. I do a lot of things better than him.”
“Fuck off, Malcolm. I’m not in the mood,” I growled.
“Fine, fine. But if you change your mind, Ms. Party Lady, you know my name. I’m all over the internet. You’ve probably even seen my websites—among other things of mine. You know how to reach me.” Malcolm turned and headed back toward his room. He slammed his door shut.
Samantha stood still with the worst case of resting bitch face I had ever seen.
“Explain now.” She crossed her arms and waited.
“You’re not the help. Those are his words, and he only said it to stir the pot and get us both riled up. After the Halloween party, he came to my office, asking about you. I did tell him you were off-limits. I didn’t want him to know what we’d done, mostly because I wanted to keep you to myself. As I said, I like you a lot.”
“That’s what you told me last night when you were drunk. You said you liked me a lot. So, that wasn’t just drunk speak?”
“Would I have mentioned it again if it was? I’m stone-cold sober and hurting with a hangover. I feel like death, but just know, I like you, Samantha Masson. So does my overcooked noodle.”
She uncrossed her arms and hooked them around me. “I like you too, Victor Beaumont. Not Phantom Man and not Voodoo Victor. I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I like you. Now, can we get the hell out of here and away from Malcolm? I do not like him. He is how I pictured you.”
I gasped and stepped back from her so that I could see her expression and make sure she wasn’t lying. I was pretty good at reading signals. It came with the job. “Now, that’s just a low blow.”
“It’s true. I did. I thought all Beaumonts were the same.”
“Well, most of them are … and I fully admit that I’ve been an asshole-in-chief at times. But I’m trying to fix all of that because I don’t want to be an asshole, but also because I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m here for you. Don’t make me regret this decision or …” She stuck her pointer finger out and made a swiping motion across her throat.
I knew she was joking, but I still felt a lump in my throat, and my balls tightened.
Seven
Samantha
I wanted to kick myself. I had taken the first few steps back into the dating world and landed flat on my face—or actually, on Victor Beaumont’s face … in a mask … on Halloween night. And ever since Halloween night, things had been moving along quickly. We had screwed, talked, screwed, talked, and the last date, we hadn’t even screwed. This felt like relationship territory to me. I hadn’t taken anyone seriously since my ex-husband, but Victor made my world spin. I knew it was Victor who had made me dizzy, not the champagne. I hadn’t drunk nearly as much as he had.