A frown formed, and concern flashed in his eyes. “Samantha, are you in some kind of trouble?” His voice was low and deep and direct. “Last night you said something about your father cutting you off, and that you got rid of your cell phone because you didn’t want him to find you.”
She cringed. Yeah, that sounded bad. Really bad. She wasn’t in a dangerous kind of trouble, but considering everything Clay had done for her this far, she owed him the truth. She wanted him to know the truth, because she desperately needed to talk to someone about her predicament. She had a few girlfriends, but none of them would understand her reasons for leaving home and turning her back on such a luxurious life, and they would criticize her for refusing to marry a successful man like Harrison even though they didn’t love one another. She’d learned last night that love didn’t factor into business mergers.
The life Samantha had walked away from was so superficial and one-dimensional, and it wasn’t a world in which she wanted to live in any longer. It was a scary thought, being alone and on her own, in a rougher part of the city, without any money or a place to live, but there was no doubt in her mind that the alternative—heading home and accepting Harrison’s proposal—would eventually destroy her.
Which meant she needed Clay’s help.
* * *
Patience wasn’t one of Clay’s strongest traits, but persistence was. Right now, he was straddling the line between the two as he waited for Samantha to answer the question he’d asked about her being in some kind of trouble, because that was his main concern. If she was facing some kind of threat, he’d make sure she had help and support. His brother Levi was a cop, and sometimes having a sibling in law enforcement came in handy. Though Mason, the delinquent in the family who’d spent most of his youth breaking the law, would beg to differ.
From across the table, he continued to watch Samantha struggle with some kind of internal battle, and quietly let her sort things out in her head. She’d trusted him with her welfare and care last night, although, in truth, she’d been too drunk to do much of anything except let him have his way. He clenched his jaw at the thought of what could have happened to her if anyone but him had found her in such an inebriated, defenseless state. Still, he hoped she’d come to the conclusion that she could trust him now, so he could make sure she remained safe.
After a few more moments, she exhaled a deep breath, met his gaze, and spoke. “I’m not running from trouble, and I’m not in any danger. But it’s true that I don’t want my father to find me.”
It was a start, at least. “Why not?”
“Have you ever heard of Jamieson Global?” she asked quietly.
He nodded. Jamieson Global was a huge conglomerate and one of the biggest, most well-known investment firms in Chicago. He didn’t know the business on a personal level, but the name was familiar enough to most people who lived in or near the city.
In the next second, realization dawned as he made the connection…Samantha Jamieson.
Fuck. He stared at her in shock, feeling as though someone had just punked him. Even Xena, sensing the sudden tension stiffening his body, jumped off his lap.
The moment he’d seen Samantha in the bar, he’d suspected that she came from an affluent family, but holy shit, this propelled her into another stratosphere of wealth. The kind that was untouchable and way out his realm and the modest life he lived. A woman like her had absolutely no business being on his side of town.
“Yes, that Jamieson,” she confirmed, taking advantage of his stunned silence. “I found out last night that my father expects me to marry the man I’ve been dating for the past eight months. His name is Harrison Blackwell III, and my father has been grooming him for the CEO position, which apparently comes with the stipulation that Harrison marries me so the company stays in the family.”
Her blue eyes blazed with indignant anger, though Clay wasn’t sure what, exactly, the issue was, considering she’d been seeing the guy for a good length of time. It wasn’t as though the dude was a stranger. “Are you upset that he’ll be marrying you for the promotion and to keep your father’s company in the family?” he guessed.
She sat up straighter, her pretty pink lips pursed in exasperation. “No, I’m furious that my father is demanding I marry a man I don’t love!”
“Demanding?” The notion seemed so archaic to him, and he couldn’t tell if she was being dramatic or not.
/>
“Yes, demanding. As in, not giving me a choice in the matter and expecting me to fall in line with his wishes and do as I’m told,” she said, her chin jutting out stubbornly. “Being the daughter of Conrad Jamieson comes with certain obligations, and one of them is obviously an arranged marriage I have no desire to be a part of.”
Her chest heaved with frustration, and Clay couldn’t say that he minded the slight trembling of her unbound breasts beneath the T-shirt. She had great tits, generous and full enough to squeeze in his hands or cushion his thick cock as he tunneled his shaft between that soft flesh. Yeah, he’d spent the better part of last night tossing and turning on his couch, fantasizing about all the dirty, filthy ways he’d like to fuck her. The way her nipples would taste in his mouth, the feel of her long, gorgeous legs clutching around his hips as she came on a soft, sweet moan…
“I won’t let anyone dictate who I spend the rest of my life with,” she said, clearing those distracting thoughts from Clay’s mind. “Especially not my father.”
He forced his gaze to remain on her face. “So, you ran away from home?” he said, his tone light and teasing.
“Yes,” she said, suddenly looking defeated. “I’m twenty-six years old, and that sounds so…juvenile. And yet it’s one hundred percent accurate.” Sighing, she combed her fingers through her wavy hair and winced as they caught on the still-tangled strands. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve relied on my parents for everything.” She didn’t meet his gaze. “Honestly, I should have left a long time ago, and I hate that I’ve let them run my life for this long.”
His coffee had gone cold, and he absently traced a finger around the rim of his cup. “So, now that you’ve left home, what do you intend to do?”
“I didn’t have a plan beyond getting away,” she admitted, then worried her teeth along her lower lip as her serious gaze met and held his. “I still don’t. And I know this is more than I have a right to ask…but can I stay here until I can figure things out?” she asked quickly, the words tumbling from her lush lips. “I won’t be in your way. I can sleep on the couch, and I swear you won’t even know I’m around.”
Oh, fuck no. This woman was already wreaking havoc on his self-control. He couldn’t imagine her crashing in this tiny apartment, filling it with her scent, using his shower, tempting him with her mere presence.
But before he could nix her idea, she quickly continued on.
“My father did cut me off. Completely. I have no money, no place to stay, and I can’t even pay for a hotel room or a meal.” She winced in embarrassment, and her hands fidgeted in her lap before she set them back on the table. “Obviously, I didn’t think things through last night, but I don’t regret leaving home, and I’m determined to make it on my own. I can work at your bar to make some money until I save enough to find a place of my own, which shouldn’t take long. Please?” She raised those big eyes to him.
Was she fucking kidding? No, the look in her wide blue eyes was completely serious and so damned determined. A part of him admired that fortitude of hers, but one look at her perfectly manicured fingernails and the soft skin on her pampered hands, and he knew she was the last person he’d ever hire to work in his bar. Within a few hours, her hands would be chapped and dry, her nails chipped, and her uncalloused feet would be screaming for relief.