Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy 1)

Clay couldn’t imagine what kind of business this dude had with him, but he noticed that he was carrying a thick manila envelope, and Clay was curious to know what he wanted. “Yeah, sure.”

He stepped aside to let him in, then led the way into the main area, not missing the way the man’s gaze took in the well-used bar, not so much in distaste but, rather, with a surprising amount of interest.

“So, what can I do for you, Mr.…” Clay deliberately let the words trail off, which prompted an introduction.

“Blackwell,” the guy said, though he didn’t offer his hand to shake. “Harrison Blackwell.”

Shock rendered Clay speechless as he stared at the other man—the perfect, wealthy, well-bred man who would most likely marry the woman Clay loved. He felt as though he’d been sucker-punched in the stomach and swallowed back an anguished groan.

A wry smile touched the corner of Harrison’s mouth. “So, Samantha told you about me,” he said, though there was no animosity or ill will in the other man’s tone, just an odd acceptance that

Clay didn’t quite understand.

“She did.” And if Harrison was here now, then that meant Samantha must have told the other guy about him, and Clay wasn’t sure what to think about that. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to deliver a package.” Harrison lifted the fat envelope he was holding, though he didn’t hand it over just yet. “And I wanted to meet the man who Samantha gave up her new, independent life for.”

Clay frowned in confusion. “Excuse me?” What the fuck was the guy talking about?

Harrison laughed and shook his head. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“Tell me what?” he demanded irritably, damn close to shaking the words out of the man.

“She returned home in exchange for fifty thousand dollars delivered directly to you, in cash.”

Because she believed he needed the money to pay off Wyatt, Clay realized. “And what strings were included in the exchange?” he asked impatiently through gritted teeth. Because Clay knew, without a doubt, her father had demanded blood in return.

“Samantha called her father yesterday and told him she needed money immediately, that you were in trouble and she wanted to help,” Harrison said, looking him in the eye as he set the padded envelope of money on the table next to where they were standing. “And Conrad Jamieson, as you already surmised, struck a bargain with his own daughter. Her return home and agreement to marry me, in exchange for giving you fifty grand.”

What. The. Hell? Her father had bribed and blackmailed her.

Clay felt so dizzy he nearly dropped to his knees as another realization struck him. Samantha hadn’t gone back home because she was scared and no longer wanted to be with him. No, she’d sold her soul to her father to make sure Clay had the money to pay Wyatt. She’d done it for him, selflessly walking away from this new life she’d painstakingly created for herself, and giving up her dream of being a pastry chef, in order to ensure he was safe and protected.

How could he have been so blind not to have seen her actions for himself?

Harrison must have recognized Clay’s stunned expression because he continued on, his tone softer. “The thing is, we’ve known all along where Samantha has been. The night she left, Conrad called the security firm he keeps on retainer and made sure they found out exactly where she was. They updated Conrad with daily reports, and when she ended up staying here with you, he was provided with a full background report on you, as well.”

Clay instinctively cringed, certain a man like Conrad Jamieson hadn’t been happy to discover Clay’s past. No doubt the other man felt Clay wasn’t good enough for his daughter. Yet he’d left Samantha alone for three weeks, with him. “If Conrad knew where Samantha was, why didn’t he just come and get her?”

Harrison shrugged. “There was something in your background report that assured him that you were trustworthy, so he figured that Samantha just needed to sow some wild oats before she settled down and married me.”

“For the sake of the investment firm.”

“That would be correct,” Harrison said with an impassive nod. “I know Samantha doesn’t love me, and quite frankly, I don’t love her, either. She’s too spirited, way too independent, and I know she’d be miserable in a structured marriage like ours would be. She wants to have her own life, her own career, and the fact that she gave it all up and agreed to her father’s terms, in exchange for this money, tells me just how important you are to her.”

It was as if Harrison was giving him permission to go after Samantha, and maybe, the other man would be grateful for not having to go through with the arranged marriage, too.

“Why are you telling me this?” Clay asked.

“Because despite everything, I’d rather see Samantha living the kind of life she wants to, with the one person who will support her and make her happy,” Harrison said, his voice ringing with sincerity. “And I know that man is not me.”

Fuck yeah, because Clay was that man. And he’d do whatever it took to fight for Samantha, to make sure she knew she was his in every way and belonged right here, with him.

“Have a good afternoon, Mr. Kincaid,” Harrison said, then turned around and walked back toward the entrance.

Once Clay heard the door shut, he sat down in the nearest chair, his heart pounding so hard in his chest it was like a roar in his ears. He caught sight of the envelope of cash that Harrison had left behind, once again in awe of what Samantha was willing to sacrifice for him.

The ironic thing was, he didn’t need the money. Hell, he had more than enough in the bank to pay off Wyatt—not that Clay needed to do that any longer—and for them to buy a real house and furnish it any way she wanted. Yeah, he was jumping ahead of himself, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted everything with Samantha, and he wanted it now.