“I have it.” She shut the door behind her and moved to set the papers on the desk.
“I appreciate you going. It’s a difficult time.” Lydia leaned forward and glanced over the paperwork. She didn’t look like she was grieving, for all that her brother had died in a terrible car accident two days ago. Her long golden hair was twisted up into a more sophisticated version of Samara’s updo and, despite a long day in the office, her white and gold color-blocked dress didn’t have a single wrinkle on it.
Samara glanced at the clock and resigned herself to another long night. “Is there anything I can do?”
Lydia smiled, her berry lipstick still in perfect condition. “How did my nephew look?”
“He’s in rough shape.” It wasn’t just the fact that he’d obviously dropped everything in Beijing and come directly home upon hearing the news of his father’s death. Everyone in Houston knew that the King men could barely be in the same building for more than a few days without clashing spectacularly, but that didn’t change the fact that Nathaniel was Beckett’s father, his last remaining parent, and now he was dead. “I was under the impression that they didn’t have much of a relationship.”
Lydia shrugged. “Family is complicated, my dear. Especially fathers.”
Years of building her defenses ensured that she didn’t flinch at the dig. “What’s the next move?”
But Lydia wasn’t through. She ran her hands over the papers almost reverently. “Was he upset when he found out about the villa?”
She pictured the look in Beckett’s dark eyes, something akin to panic. “Yes. He didn’t understand why Nathaniel would leave it to you.”
“He grew up there. We all did.” Lydia’s smile took on a softer edge. “Nathaniel and I were born there. So was Beckett. My children would have been if not for how things fell out.”
It was just a building, albeit a beautiful one. Samara didn’t understand the reverence in Lydia’s tone, or the pain Beckett obviously felt to lose it. Who cared about an old mansion on the outskirts of Houston—especially after the King family had essentially cut Lydia off when she wouldn’t dance to their tune?
Doesn’t matter if I get it. It’s important to Lydia, which means I have to plan on dealing with that damn house in the future.
She realized the silence had stretched on a little too long and tried for a smile. “That’s nice.”
“Oh, Samara.” Lydia laughed. “Don’t pretend I’m not boring you to death with my nostalgia. At least Nathaniel managed to do one thing right before he did us all the favor of dying.”
There she is. This was the Lydia that Samara knew, not the sentimental woman she’d just been talking to. “Nathaniel was handling the upcoming bid personally. With him gone, it will leave Beckett scrambling to catch up.” Her fingers tingled, and she clenched her fists. Excitement. Not guilt. I’m beyond guilt when it comes to men who have had everything handed to them from birth. Losing this contract won’t sink Beckett’s company, but it will damage it.
“Yes, well, don’t get cocky. This is important, Samara.”
“I won’t drop the ball.”
Lydia looked at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Staring into those hazel eyes was like glimpsing a lion stalking through the tall grass. Samara was reasonably sure the danger wasn’t directed at her, but her heart still kicked in her chest. Finally, Lydia nodded. “I know you won’t let me down. Why don’t you get some rest? You need to hit the ground running tomorrow.”
Samara paused. “I hope you’ll be able to get some rest soon, too.” When Lydia just shook her head and chuckled, Samara gave up and left before she could do or say something else ill advised.
She hesitated on the corner. The smart move would be to go back to her little condo, have a glass of wine, and go over her proposal for the government contract yet again. She knew she had it locked down, but insidious doubt wormed through her at the thought of facing Beckett King. I have the advantage this time. It didn’t matter. He had advantages she couldn’t even see, ones that had been gifted to him just because he held the King last name.
Samara closed her eyes. She wanted to go home. She wanted to call a Lyft and travel across town to the little house her mother had lived in since she was born. She wanted to hug her amma until the fear of losing her only parent dissipated.
Get ahold of yourself.
Amma would already be asleep, her alarm set for some ungodly hour so she could get to work on time. If Samara showed up now, it would mean a long conversation while her mother tried to figure out what the problem was. No matter how nice that sounded, Samara was stronger than this. She couldn’t lean on her amma just because seeing Beckett’s grief left her feeling strange.
She was not weak. She refused to let a man she barely knew derail her path. Kingdom Corp needed that contract, and Samara needed to be the one to get it. It was a shame Beckett’s father had died, but ultimately she couldn’t let pity for him take root.
He was the enemy.
Samara couldn’t afford to forget that.
Chapter Two
Beckett spent a restless few hours in his condo in the city. He’d owned this place since he’d moved out after graduation, but these days he spent as many nights in hotel rooms around the world as he did in his own bed. He listened to the traffic outside his window and wished for the relative silence of
