“Well, it was a few weeks ago.”
He frowned. A few weeks ago?
“I only had your best interests at heart, sweetheart. That boy is genuinely trying to make up for his mistakes.”
Oh, okay. They were clearly talking about different things. He opened his mouth to correct her, but she continued. “I think, given your background and family name, you would be a perfect fit for his new organization.”
Realization dawned, and he mentally shelved his uncle’s diagnosis. “Aunt Belle, are you saying you gave Trevor my number?”
Her hands fluttered. The bells on the sleeves of her turquoise caftan jingled. “Oh. You didn’t know. What were you talking about? I mean, never mind, look at the time. I have so much to do.”
“Aunt Belle! You know what he did to me.”
She paused mid-jingle. “I know. I also know what he’s doing. Samson, the job he’s offering you is right up your alley.”
He gestured to the office, to encompass her own business. “I have a job. Remember?”
“Yes. I gave it to you. But it’ll end, and then what will you do?”
What would he do?
Her tone softened when he went silent. “Trevor’s job offer makes sense for you, Samson. You are good with the public, good at being in the spotlight. You’re sympathetic. You could make real change.”
None of that was wrong, but his stomach cramped at the thought of working with Trevor ever again, especially on this topic. Especially with Dr. Kamau’s words ringing in his ear. “Last time I breathed a word about my concerns about head injuries, I got shunned.” Even though his father had died from it, even though he’d already started to fear for his uncle.
That day he’d walked, he’d known what he was throwing away. Had he wanted to go to another team, he’d have been completely blacklisted. Some family.
“Times have changed, my love. People change. Look at Trevor! Why, look at the comments on any of the videos you and Rhiannon release.”
“No, thanks.” If there was one internet rule he knew well, it was don’t read the comments. He set his jaw. “Don’t meddle like this again, Aunt Belle.”
She sighed. “Fine, fine. But you should think about it.” She wagged her finger at him. “It would be good for you and good for the world.”
“Aunt Belle—”
She fiddled with the ring on her pinky finger. She might have turned down Joe’s marriage proposal, but she still wore the big diamond ring he’d given her. “I’m so lucky to have you, you know.”
Damn it. Like that, his anger deflated. “I’m lucky to have you too.”
Her computer gave an alert and she glanced at it, brow furrowing. “That’s William. He’s being so difficult about this weekend.”
“Difficult how?”
“Saying that having potential buyers come to my home is excessive and over-the-top. That it’s not what Jennifer would have done.” The lines around her mouth deepened. “Tina told me not to tell him about the glitter-gram I sent Rhiannon, she said he’d be even more scornful.”
“You know, you are his boss. You don’t have to put up with this.” The reminder was gentle, though his annoyance was not.
Aunt Belle waved that away. “It’s fine, really. What did you want to talk about, if not Trevor?”
Samson ran his tongue over his teeth, her diamond ring winking up at him. He didn’t want to tell her, not now. She had enough on her plate. Let her have the weekend. “Nothing.” He forced a smile, and it took all of his energy. “Don’t work too hard. And don’t listen to William. I’m sure anything you’ve planned will be great.”
“Why don’t you go have a drink and relax on the porch for a while? I had the chef put some delicious virgin cocktails on the menu for tonight.”
The last thing he felt like doing was sipping a nonalcoholic margarita in the sunshine, but he nodded and left. At some point, he’d have to have a more serious talk with Aunt Belle about giving his personal information out to his nemesis, but not when both their emotions were running high.
He turned sideways in the hallway so a maid could scurry past him. His shoulder brushed a framed painting. It was an amateur seascape, the initials A.L. in the corner.
He studied it for a moment. His dad had painted this, in one of the classes his mom had dragged him to, back when she’d been convinced his depressive episodes had simply been a matter of too much free time.
Samson remembered when Aleki had gifted the painting to Joe over dinner at their house. What the hell am I supposed to do with this crap? Joe had barked. The brothers had always been growling at each other, though their tight bond had been more than obvious to anyone who spent any time with them.
Aunt Belle had taken it from him and exclaimed like it was a piece of fine art, and to her, it may very well have been. Hush, Joe. It’s the view from our house, can’t you tell? I’ll cherish it forever, Aleki, thank you.
Samson scrubbed his hand over his face. The majority of the people around that dinner table were gone now, him and Belle the only ones left.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. Rhi. Her text popped up under the photo of his hand.
LOL. Dork.
A ray of sunshine threatened to pierce through his fog of grief and loneliness, and his brain beat it back, even though a part of him was aware he needed it right now.
What is wrong with you? You knew this diagnosis was coming.
He shook his head, but he couldn’t dislodge the darkness, the vast emptiness that waited for him if he took a step toward it. He tucked the phone away without answering, and wished he could tuck his emotions away as easily.
The guests would be arriving soon, including Rhi, but he was in no shape to mingle with strangers now. He’d work out, go for a run on the beach.
Perhaps then, he could outpace his feelings.
Chapter Twenty
ARE YOU texting Samson?”
Rhiannon glanced around guiltily, but Lakshmi was in her ear, not in the chauffeured town car whisking her to Annabelle’s home. She switched from her messages back to the video call with Lakshmi. “No.” Not a lie. She hadn’t been texting Samson. She’d been ogling the photo he’d sent of his hand. Silly, yes, but still so fucking sexy.
“That is one goofy grin you’re sporting there.”
She consciously wiped her face clean of any kind of grin. “Fuck off.”
Lakshmi chuckled. “Can you thank him for the food and massages, if you do happen to text him?”
No one had been more grateful for the extravagant gesture of week-long lunches than her. She’d basically been sleeping at the office for the past week. Eating had been the furthest thing from her mind. She rolled her neck. The massage therapists he’d sent today had been nice too. “You don’t know where the food came from.”
“Girl, please.”
Her staff had grown curious after she’d shook off their thanks for the free lunch the first day, except for Lakshmi, who had cast her knowing looks. They’d started calling their mysterious benefactor Santa. How had Samson known that the way to her heart was to also take care of her too-dedicated employees?
Wait, not her heart. The way to her . . . sincere admiration. Yeah, that was right. She admired him.