Whether he liked it or not, his attraction to Samara was a glaring weak spot. Lydia wouldn’t hesitate to exploit it, and Samara wasn’t above using it against him, either. He was in the middle of a game where he was the only one playing by the rules, and there would be no winning if he continued on that route.
There would be no justice.
This is the only way, no matter how distasteful I find it.
He braced himself and made the call.
Chapter Ten
Samara spent Sunday with her amma. Going through the normal weekend routine of her childhood was like wrapping up in a warm blanket. It transported her back to a time when she believed there was nothing her amma couldn’t do. When she stood as shield between Samara and the rest of the world.
They cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom, starting with wiping the cabinets down, inside and out, and ending with mopping the floor. Only when they were finished and Samara had rinsed out the mop bucket and set it aside to dry did her amma dry her hands and turn to her. “Are you ready to talk about it?”
The dam inside her that held everything in its proper place had been showing hairline cracks since her first night with Beckett six months ago. At her amma’s softly spoken question, it burst and words poured out. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Amma considered her. “This has been bothering you for some time.”
“Yes.” She leaned against the counter and looked out the back window. There wasn’t much to see—a postage stamp–sized backyard that her amma kept well groomed. The neighbors whose backyard bordered theirs were within easy speaking distance. She’d always hated that. Condo living might have its downsides, but growing up here had been like living in a fishbowl. Everyone was in everyone’s business, and they had no problem snooping and gossiping to get the scoop on whatever petty drama was currently playing out.
“Samara.” There was no censure in her amma’s voice, but she felt it all the same.
“Ever since I was a little girl, I had a path. It’s a good path. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am now. I’ve made sacrifices.” She raked her fingers through her hair. It didn’t help. “He’s under my skin, Amma. I thought I could keep my head about him and do what needed to be done, but every time we’re together he has me questioning things I know for a fact are true.”
“Beckett King.” She spat the name.
“Beckett King.” Samara took a deep breath and looked at her amma. She might have her father’s strong nose, but in every other way, she was made in her mother’s image. The years had been kind to her amma, dealing out laugh lines as easily as they dealt out the pinched stress lines that peppered her forehead. She wasn’t smiling now. Samara forced herself to look at her hands, at the weathered and beaten fingers that could have belonged to a woman twice her amma’s age.
Those hands had sacrificed so Samara could have every opportunity, could shoot for the stars without anything holding her back.
She forced a smile. “I’m sorry, Amma. The stress of this upcoming bid has me talking crazy. Why don’t you get out the cards and we’ll play rummy?”
Amma hesitated like she wanted to dig into this conversation, but finally nodded. “It’s not every day my daughter has an entire Sunday to give me. You’ll stay for dinner?”
“Of course.” She had to get back to the rat race sooner rather than later, but it would hold until after dinner. She needed this reminder of why she couldn’t deviate from her path. Beckett might believe that Lydia was behind every misfortune he’d been dealt since his father’s death, and he might even be right about part of it, but that had nothing to do with Samara.
She ignored the tiny voice inside her that disagreed with leaving them to hash it out. It didn’t matter that Lydia had her children and Beckett had…Well, no one. It couldn’t matter. Samara didn’t make choices with her heart. She couldn’t afford to. She might not have achieved the level of ice-queen persona that Lydia cultivated, but what she had was better than nothing.
In this industry, a thin skin might as well be an invitation for a knife in the back.
Samara didn’t even make it into her office Monday morning before she was waylaid by Lydia’s assistant. “Ms. King needs to see you—now.”
Of course she does. She wants a damn report on how I fucked Beckett on his desk and then almost died in a fire.
Samara wouldn’t give it to her. She wasn’t willing to cross that particular line.
Lydia turned from looking out her floor-to-ceiling windows as Samara walked into her office. She wore a gold dress that should have looked ostentatious as daywear, but she managed to pull it off all the same. “Close the door.”
Apparently we’re getting right down to it. “Good morning, Lydia.”
“Yes, yes.” She waved that away. “What do you have for me?”
“It might help if you told me what information you’re looking for. Beckett wasn’t exactly sharing state secrets when I was at Morningstar Enterprise.”
Lydia crossed to lean against the edge of her desk. She motioned to Samara to sit. “Start with why he invited you there in the first place.”
“He offered me a job.” She made a face. “He didn’t come right out and say it, but the offer was there all the same.”
Instead of being furious, Lydia’s lips quirked up. “My nephew isn’t as dumb as his father. He knew losing you would be a serious blow to both me and Kingdom Corp, and he didn’t hesitate to leverage your…history.”
“I didn’t take it.”
“Of course you didn’t. You’re loyal to a fault.” Lydia still looked entirely too amused. “He’ll try again, of course. He’s infatuated with
