As she settled into the plush interior, she felt it shrink with Josh’s presence. It grew even smaller when the driver sat behind the wheel.
Jamie had always gone without a driver. But then, he’d not driven sedate sedans. He preferred sports cars. Low, fast. Expensive.
“Thank you for this,” she said softly before his attention could fully revert to his phone, and as the chauffeur drove them out of the parking lot underneath his mother’s building.
“It’s the least I can do.”
And that was that.
He didn’t want her thanks. Didn’t need her gratitude.
Why? Because he felt guilty?
Because he felt like Jamie had deceived him?
Did the answers matter? She guessed not. Still, she truly appreciated what he was doing for her. Knew how much of his time they were taking up with this game they were playing.
She guessed she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth though. Should just be thankful for small mercies…
So why was she irked by his lack of grace?
Samantha didn’t have the answer to that either, and wasn’t sure she’d ever find a response that would satisfy her. Because why she needed to feel satisfied was beyond explanation.
Chapter 6
Samantha
“You didn’t.”
“I had to.” Samantha covered her face with her palm, then peeped through her fingers at her still-gawking friend. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I had to.”
Jessica shook her head like a poodle post-bath. Her fluffy curls bobbed and swayed with the motion, dancing over her features, partially hiding her expression—not enough. Her astonishment was evident for all to see.
All being the swanky coffee house Jessica managed. It was all boho chic and organic Fairtrade coffee beans with vegan options on the predominantly vegetarian menu.
“I go away for a week and I come back to this!”
“It’s not that bad,” she whispered. “And keep your voice down. This has to look real.”
Jessica squinted at her. “How can it look real? You’re terrified of the man!”
“No, I’m not,” she immediately grumbled, folding her arms across her chest.
She’d waited to tell her friend about the news of her ‘engagement’ while Jessica was making them coffee. Of course, that hadn’t gone well—Jess had managed to spill half the frothy almond milk all over the counter.
With the sodden dishrag in hand, Jessica waggled it at her. “You totally are. And I don’t blame you. The man’s a beast.”
“Hardly,” Samantha countered. “Look at what he’s doing for us.”
“You know what I mean. Everyone talks about him. Even here. He’s like the real life Christian Grey.” Jessica’s eyes opened wide. “You don’t think he has a Red Room of Pain too?”
Despite herself, Samantha suppressed a chuckle. Jess’s expression was a mixture of loathing and wonder. Like she was angry at herself for being excited about the notion of the Joshua Lewis having a room full of whips and nipple rings.
Considering Jessica considered herself a definite feminist, and was really very verbal about her political stance, the former made sense. The latter reaction, wonder, surprised Samantha enough to let out the giggle she’d been withholding.
Jess could be so militant sometimes that for her to flounder was very amusing.
“If he does, I won’t be the one to tell you, will I? This is purely platonic.”