Samara stared. She’d had a couple ideas how this conversation would go, but none of them involved Lydia looking downright giddy at the thought of facing off with Beckett—of continuing to face off with him. “I’m not a toy you two can fight over, Lydia. I have better things to do than to lead Beckett King around by his nose.” That wasn’t what they were, but she wasn’t about to get into the intricacies of the push-and-pull between her and Beckett. They grappled for power within each interaction, but it was as much for their own enjoyment as to pursue their independent goals.
“On the contrary. You’re uniquely qualified to do exactly that. He might not trust you completely, but he can’t leave you alone.” The amusement drained out of Lydia’s face, leaving only cold calculation in its wake. “If you’re so concerned about handling your various responsibilities, I can off-load the upcoming bid to Journey to free you up.”
“You’re not serious.” She shouldn’t have questioned Lydia, but it was too late to take it back now. Samara pushed to her feet. “You’re treating me like a glorified whore.”
“You’re paid significantly better than any whore I know.”
She stopped short, half sure she’d misheard. But no, Lydia had actually just said that. Samara took a careful breath and kept her body as relaxed as possible. Do not scream at your boss. “Lydia.” She spoke quietly, biting off each word to keep from losing control. “Nowhere in my job description does it include seducing the competition, let alone the competition who’s grief-stricken from losing his last remaining parent a few short days ago.”
“Oh, please. Nathaniel was nothing but a burden on everyone connected to him. Beckett should be grateful he’s gone.” Lydia tilted her head to the side and studied Samara, leaving her feeling like a bug under a microscope. “You’re being uncharacteristically hysterical this morning.”
She did not just—Samara gritted her teeth. “Well, I almost died in a fire on Saturday, so that might account for my poor mood.”
“Honey, you were never in any danger from that fire.”
The world seemed to hold its breath around her. Samara went still, her breath stalled in her lungs. “What are you talking about?” How the hell could Lydia possibly know what kind of danger she was or wasn’t in? Samara didn’t even know the true level of danger because the fire inspector had had to wait for the scene to cool down before he could do his job.
“It was just a small fire. No one was in any danger.” Lydia must have seen the incredulous expression on her face, because she laughed. “No, I didn’t set it. I spoke with Beckett yesterday. Don’t look at me like that, Samara. I’m not a monster.”
I’m not so sure. She wouldn’t know without speaking to Beckett, but Samara didn’t see him sharing specifics about the fire with his aunt. It didn’t make any sense. But if she contradicted Lydia right now, she was essentially accusing her boss of arson. Without proof.
She’d be fired before the words were fully voiced.
Lydia pushed off the desk and stalked toward her. The concerned expression on her face didn’t detract from the menace in her body language. “You look a little peaked, Samara. I’m sure you suffered some smoke inhalation on Saturday. Why don’t you take a few days to recover and then we’ll talk again?”
A few days. “If I take a few days, that will hamper my ability to give the presentation for the government contract.”
“Yes, honey, I know. Stop by Journey’s office on your way out and give her the pertinent information. She’ll take this one, and we’ll field you the next one.”
Just like that, all Samara’s hard work was shelved so someone else could take the credit. It didn’t matter that Journey was her friend and would be as horrified by this turn of events as Samara was. What mattered was she’d been treated like the pawn she’d fought so hard to rise above.
Samara lifted her chin. “I think you should reconsider.”
“You’re more than capable of handling this, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been leaning on you entirely too much since my boys left.” Lydia’s hazel eyes were sympathetic, but her words cut through Samara like a knife. “I take care of my employees. This is in your best interest, Samara.” Nearly the same words Beckett had used, but for a very different purpose.
There was no point in arguing. She’d just confirm how hysterical Lydia accused her of being. With it framed as being something for her benefit, Samara wouldn’t win. “I’ll be back on Wednesday.”
“Might as well take the full week. Don’t look at me like that—you have a month’s worth of vacation days. A week will do you a bit of good.” Lydia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “In fact, it might be just the opportunity to take a real vacation. You haven’t had one of those in years. Our Hamptons house is always open to you, of course. I can make the arrangements.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She couldn’t keep the stiffness out of her voice. “I’ll see you Monday.” Samara turned and walked out of the office. It was tempting to keep on walking until she got control of the fury blossoming with each breath, but no matter how pissed she was, she couldn’t leave Journey hanging.
She managed to keep her expression under control until she shut the door between Journey’s office and the rest of the building. “Fuck. Shit, fuck, goddamn it.” She wished she had something to throw, but she wasn’t going to destroy her friend’s office just to make herself feel better.
Journey hung up her phone and stood. “What the hell happened? Mother just called and let me know I’m taking over the bid? That’s your project.”
“Not anymore.” She stalked from one side of the office
