Taken by the Highest Bidder

She did love Gabriela and she’d discovered in Chester she enjoyed Cristiano’s company. She’d probably enjoy life with Cristiano and Gabby very much.

Too much, especially considering Cristiano’s wealth.

He had too much. He was too rich. Too famous. Too successful. Too powerful.

Sam wanted a simple life, needed a simple life, not this jetsetter’s life in the south of France.

Sam lowered her hands, glanced at the prenuptial agreement still lying on the silver-blue linen couch. And standing where she was, with the sunlight slanting through the tall windows the couch was the same shade as the English sky in early April when it’s no longer winter but not spring proper and the mornings are still crisp and cold but warm through the day.

That blue, that wispy sky-blue, was what her bridesmaids wore when she married Charles, too. She’d always loved blue. It was nature’s favorite color.

“Charles was a priest,” she said, her gaze fixed on the prenup. “He’d just finished his training when we married. He never thought of himself. He always put others first.”

“Is that why you can’t put yourself first? You don’t think you deserve happiness?”

“That’s not so—”

“You married Johann van Bergen.”

“For Gabby, yes—”

“But think about it, Sam. You put everyone else’s needs before your own. When do you finally get to be happy? When will it be your turn?”

She swallowed around the horrendous lump filling her throat. She hated his assessment, but there was also accuracy in his assessment. “You might not believe it, but I am happy. Happier, at least. This last week I’ve felt so much happier, and freer—”

“This last week?” He coughed, a hoarse grating sound. “Let’s recap, shall we? This last week your husband deserted you, left you in financial ruins, forcing you to flee to England where you were trapped in a snowstorm, only to discover Gabby’s not Johann’s child and you’re not even Johann’s wife.” His black brows pulled. He looked outraged. “This is your idea of better? Santo Cielo. Your life was worse than I thought.”

It felt like he was trapping her with words and she shook her head frustrated.

“What has made you feel better? What has made you happier?”

“I don’t know.”

“Something must have changed. Something must have improved.”

She started to shake her head and then she stopped, looked at Cristiano who was glaring at her in the worst scowl yet, and she knew.

It’s you, she thought. You’ve made it better.

“What made it better?” he repeated, his gaze resting on her, his expression increasingly brooding.

“It’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” he flared. “You’ve taken care of my sister. Maybe I want to take care of you.”

“Well, you can’t. I’m very good at taking care of myself—”

“I disagree. While you were assuming responsibility for a child that wasn’t even yours, you were taken to the cleaners, financially and emotionally.” His mouth compressed. “If you left here today. What would you do? Get another job? Find another nanny position?”

Sam blanched, swallowed, forced herself to nod. Because it’s exactly what she’d do. It’s what she’d have to do. She didn’t have a choice. “Yes.”

“And that’s okay with you?”

“Maybe things would be tight financially, and maybe I’d be leaving my heart behind with Gabby, but I’d do what I have to do. I always have.”

“Walk away from happiness?”

“No. Walk away from unhappiness. Because I am happier today than I was a week ago. It’s a relief to have Johann gone. The villa we lived in was a rattrap. The pipes constantly leaked and there was mildew in the walls and there was never any money to fix things.”

She balled her hands into fists, growing more livid by the second remembering. “Johann didn’t want me. He married me to get Gabby, but marrying me meant he could also stop paying me. I’m thrilled we’re not legally married. It was a horrible deal. I love Gabby but she has a real family now. I missed having an income, missed being financially independent, and now that I’m free, I’m not about to get into that situation again.”