Chapter 23: His hold over me

Samantha's POV

"I don't even want him anymore," I lied, aggressively stabbing my tweezers toward my face as I fought with an individual eyelash.

"Yes, you do." Chloe didn't even look up from her powder palette. Her tone was so flat it could've been used as a level.

"For real, though! I'm over it," I insisted, doubling down on the absolute lie of the century.

"Tsk... Girl, please." She let out a loud, mocking laugh that nearly made me glue my eyelid shut.

It was gala night for one of our biggest clients, and our bedroom looked like a high-end makeup counter had exploded. Lipsticks, contour sticks, and stray Bobby pins littered every flat surface.

I paused, holding the eyelash strip in mid-air, and let out a long sigh. "Okay... I probably still want him," I conceded.

"Mm-hmm. The truth shall set you free," Chloe chimed in smoothly.

"He's just a friend!" I gestured wildly with the lash glue. "A younger, infuriatingly hot friend that I happen to fantasize about ripping the clothes off of on a daily basis."

"Right. Perfectly platonic stuff."

"I mean, he wanted me at the beginning! And now he doesn't... or maybe he does, but he's playing brooding hero... I don't fucking know!"

"I feel you," Chloe muttered, currently engaged in a life-or-death battle with her mascara wand, her mouth open in that universal 'applying mascara' gawk. "Did you invite him?"

"No. Absolutely not. I need to be a composed, classy, emotionally stable young woman tonight."

"Can I get an Amen?!" Chloe yelled at the ceiling.

We both burst out laughing, the sudden noise ruining her bottom lashes completely.

"Seriously," I said, stepping back from the mirror. "Every time I look at him, my brain just short-circuits into 'strip him naked.' I need a detox. A Rick-cleansing." I turned to reach for my dress hanging on the closet door. "Besides, it's a high-society event. There will be plenty of other ridiculously hot men there tonight."

"Speaking of..." Chloe piped up, wiggling into her dress. "I heard a rumor about this insanely handsome investor who's supposed to be showing up. Super wealthy, total ghost—one of those mysterious 'likes to keep a low profile' types. He is officially my target for the evening."

I glanced back over my shoulder with a sharp grin. "Well, he better come with an equally wealthy, equally low-profile friend."

"Bitch, if he doesn't, we're sharing!"

We cracked up again, but the moment I slipped into my dress, the laughing stopped and the confidence took over.

It was a floor-length, pitch-black backless dress with a plunging neckline that gave just enough of a peek at my impulsive—but undeniably sexy—side-rib tattoo. The slit on the left thigh was practically a hazard, rising high enough to show off legs for days, anchored by a pair of heels so sharp they could double as a deadly weapon. I shook my hair out, letting the soft waves tumble down my back.

Chloe looked like an absolute goddess in a sleeveless, deep burgundy gown with a slit that rivaled mine.

We stood side-by-side in front of the full-length mirror, taking each other in.

"Bishhhh..." Chloe breathed, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "We look dangerously good."

"Someone needs to warn the investors," I agreed, checking my lipstick one last time.

Right on cue, two sharp, impatient blares of a car horn echoed from the street down below.

Beep! Beep!

Chloe zipped her clutch shut with a flourish. "Ah, our chariot awaits.”

                       ~~~~

The gala hall was nothing short of breathtaking.

Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the massive room, reflecting off towering champagne towers and polished marble floors. A live band played smooth jazz, their melody weaving beneath the low murmur of high-society chatter. Couples swayed slowly on the dance floor, men looked sharp in tuxedos, and women floated through the crowd in vibrant gowns.

The moment Chloe and I stepped deeper into the hall, I could feel the atmosphere shift. It felt like half the room paused mid-conversation just to glance our way. 

Heads turned, conversations lulled, and a few men practically strained their necks as we walked by.

"Y'all are stealing the damn show," Bryan, our senior colleague, said the second he spotted us. "What is this gorgeousness?"

"It's always a pleasure to see you, Bryan," I laughed.

Just then, Chloe caught sight of someone across the room. "Excuse me," she murmured quickly, her eyes locked on her target as she slid away into the crowd.

Traitor.

"Can I buy you a drink? You look incredible."

I turned around to face the voice, internally groaning. 

Standing there was Arthur—a short, completely bald senior executive who had a habit of hovering around the younger women at the firm. The top of his head reflected the chandelier light a little too well, and he was standing just close enough that I had to look down slightly at him.

"No, you really don't have to," I said, trying to keep my voice polite.

"Just one drink?"

“Umm…fine. One drink," I conceded, reluctantly following him to the bar while still noticing the uncomfortable amount of stares and drooling coming from the surrounding tables.

Arthur leaned against the bar counter, looking me up and down without an ounce of subtlety. "You know I really like you, Samantha. Why won't you give me a chance?"

I tried so hard not to throw up. "Maybe because you're literally my father's age?"

"Come onnn, age is just a number. I'll really take care of you."

"I already told you I'm not interested," I said, my patience completely running out as I stood up. "Actually... I should find Chloe."

His hand shot out, grasping my wrist tightly. "But I still want to spend time with you."

"Let go of me," I snapped.

Arthur lowered his voice, leaning in closer. "Come on. I'd fuck like no other man has."

"Jesus Christ. In your fucking dreams—"

"I think the lady already made it clear she wants to leave."

The voice came from right behind me. Calm, gravelly, and instantly recognizable.

His scent. My heart beat racing. Yeah it's him.

I turned, and there was Rick. No theatrical entrance, no grand scene—just him, looking ridiculously handsome in a tailored tuxedo, stepping up beside us with a look in his eyes that made Arthur freeze.

Rick drew closer to Arthur, leaning down slightly to speak in a deep, deadly rumble that only the three of us could hear. "If you have even the slightest love for your pathetic little life, I suggest you get lost."

He said it so casually you'd think he didn't mean it, but he did.

Arthur glanced up at Rick’s height, swallowed hard, and tried to save face. 

"You're letting your boyfriend speak to me like this?"

“He's not…” I started to clear him but then thought ‘why the hell am I explaining myself to this dickhead’.

When neither of us replied, he quickly turned and walked out.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Rick asked immediately, the dark tone vanishing, replaced entirely by raw concern in his voice.

Instead of answering, I just turned around and started walking out.

"Hey, hey, hey. Alright, can we talk?" he called out, catching up to me. "Some place quiet?"

I stopped and looked up at him.

Big mistake.

I got instantly lost in his gaze. Those deep green eyes drew me right back in to places I had sworn I wouldn't go. He looked insanely handsome and sexy in that tuxedo, his sharp jawline practically begging to be traced.

"That's probably not a good idea," I mumbled, trying to stay firm.

"Please?"

How the hell was I supposed to say no to this man?

"Fine. Follow me."

“Yes ma'am”

I caught Chloe looking across the room with raised eyebrows, and I just gave her a quick nod to let her know I was fine.

We took the elevator up to the rooftop in silence. When the doors opened into the cool night air, I turned around and crossed my arms.

"You want to talk? Talk.”