But reality came rushing back when Bianca opened the car door, the roar of downtown Seattle traffic filling the air.
“Do you need me to help you up to your apartment?” Sam yelled over the noise of the traffic.
A shake of Bianca’s curly head told her everything she needed to know. “Thank you. You’ve been a big help already. I won’t forget it. Or you.”
She shut the door, returning Sam to her silent world. As the car hummed, her attention was drawn out the window to Bianca, who stepped delicately past the doorman. The swish of her short skirt against bare thighs and the clack of her chunky heels weren’t all that had Sam captivated. Her slight fingers, threading the chain of her purse across her sylph-like body, her blonde curls glowing in the clouded light, all made that something inside Sam lament the fact that she would never again have Bianca within her grasp.
But she and Bianca couldn’t possibly be any more different, superficially or otherwise. Age wasn’t the only factor. Bianca was the pinnacle of glamour, with her effortlessly gorgeous clothes, hair, and makeup, as well as the proud way she carried herself, as if the world owed her its attention.
Sam? She was strong. Tough. Silent. Nobody questioned her ability to take care of herself. If she turned heads when she walked into a room, it was because of how imposing she was. And they didn’t stare at her for long. That was just the way she liked it.
Bianca? She was Sam’s polar opposite. Her foil.
And as she watched Bianca walk into the building, hips swaying in her dress, the pull of attraction seized Sam’s entire body.
It took all her effort to put the car in gear and drive away.
* * *
Sam had hoped her complicated feelings would dissipate by the time she left her office and returned home to her downtown apartment, but they continued to play on her overworked mind. And the fact she could see the Black Diamond Building from her bedroom window did not make her feel better. The building dominated the skyline in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
This is what I get for buying a condo downtown. Sam’s financial advisers had warned her that condos were far from good investments nowadays, but she hadn’t cared. She wanted to own, not rent. And she wanted to be downtown, in the thick of it all, where she could either have a condo or nothing.
She closed the blinds on her bedroom window and went into the large chef’s kitchen that she never used, pouring herself a small shot of whiskey. It was the only alcohol she had that wasn’t wine. And this was not a wine kind of night.
She crashed down on her couch and turned on the TV. But within a few minutes, she had turned the volume all the way down, her whiskey untouched in her hand. Relaxing was beyond her tonight.
Let’s face it. I don’t relax.
She hadn’t relaxed in twelve years. Hell, twenty. ‘Tense and slightly alert’ had been her default state for as long as she could remember. When she dared to spend any of her money on so-called ‘self-care,’ it was always on services and equipment that forced her to relax. Spa days. Massage chairs. Even then, she always ended up sitting there, wishing she could turn off her brain and escape it all.
She’d sensed some of the same tendencies in Bianca Black, the young college grad and coddled baby of her affluent family.
“I wish you’d just drive by my building and get me the hell out of here.”
Sam had felt that. Bianca’s words hadn’t come from a place of emotion, of momentary dissatisfaction. Those words had been her soul crying out.
Didn’t Sam know what that was like? Some girls escaped into their wealth and privilege. Others ran off to the military. The same crushing insecurities, different results.
She could still remember the day the Air Force recruiter came to her high school and told the boys that the military could change their lives. Independence. Skills. College degrees. What that recruiter didn’t know was that the quiet tomboy sitting in the middle of the classroom would be the first to approach him with questions. Namely, did her parents have to sign off on everything if she was only seventeen? Her birthday wasn’t until early May, and she wanted to be on the next bus to Basic Training as soon as she received her high school diploma.
That recruiter probably hadn’t anticipated Sam’s parents marching into his office and begging him to tear up the contract. Sam was destined for something different, after all. She was supposed to go to college while her parents continued their search for a suitable husband for her. Didn’t the recruiter understand? This girl, with her boyish clothes, plain face, and penchant for kissing girls, needed to get married. It was the only way to ensure young Samhitha became the proper lady her traditional parents begged her to be. The military would do the exact opposite. What man would want to marry a girl who knew how to fly a fighter jet?
But her parents weren’t able to stop her. Sam boarded the bus for Basic Training and didn’t look back. It had been the beginning of an almost decade-long estrangement from her family, as well as the beginning of Sam’s new life. Got my degree. Learned some good skills. Suppressed every feeling that attempted to surface. She could knock down a man twice her size and not feel a single thing. Nothing except pride.
But that was all Sam ever allowed herself to feel. Even before she joined the Air Force, she’d learned to turn off her feelings. She’d had to in order to survive growing up in her family as a girl who was the opposite of everything her parents wanted in a daughter. It was easier to just avoid feeling anything at all.
She’d made the mistake of forgetting that, once, shortly after leaving the Air Force. She’d allowed herself to feel something for someone, someone she was charged to protect. She had grown attached. And it had almost cost her client their life.
But that had been five years ago. So much had changed since then. And unlike her previous charge, Bianca was an adult. One who could take care of herself, despite what others thought of her.
So why did Sam feel an undeniable urge to protect her?
Downing the last of her whiskey, Sam picked up her phone from the side table. It didn’t take her long to find Bianca’s personal number. It had been provided in the dossier for the Black family. Sam was one of the only people in her company to have access to it.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she dialed Bianca’s number.
“Hello?”