people out. This is why you don’t give second chances.
She pulled her hood up so it covered her hair, but she was naked. Exposed. Someone, a colleague who wasn’t Katrina or her assistant, knew the truth of what Peter had done to her. It might only be a snippet of the truth, only the tip of the harassment iceberg, but it was enough that her fight-or-flight reflex had been well and truly triggered. She needed to be alone.
Thank God her scheduled ride was already in the driveway. Rhi got into the luxury sedan without waiting for the driver to open her door. She acknowledged his greeting and placed her duffel next to her. As they pulled away from the big house, she didn’t look behind her to see if Samson had come out on the steps to watch her leave. She did, however, yank out her phone and delete him from her contacts. Her thumb hovered over blocking him, but she couldn’t go that far. Deletion you could do on a whim. Blocking was the ultimate goodbye.
She kept her gaze on her lap, head bowed, so the driver wouldn’t see her tears if he looked behind him. She pulled her sleeves down and hugged herself tighter. In a few hours, she’d be home and Katrina would hug her for real.
She just had to hold on. She was good at that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
SAMSON ROLLED to his back, his head cushioned by Rhi’s lap. She smiled down at him, the sunlight reflecting off her glowing skin, and ran her fingers through his hair. He hummed with pleasure at the massage.
“Samson?” Someone shook his shoulder, hard, and rudely jerked him out of his perfect dream.
He recoiled when he opened his eyes to find his aunt’s face mere inches from his own. “Aunt Belle? Why are you here?”
She dangled his childhood home’s spare key in front of him. “Dear, we have to talk about you leaving that key under the planter. The world isn’t as safe as it used to be, you know.”
He glanced around in confusion. “Why are you in my bedroom, though?”
Aunt Belle perched on the side of his bed. She wore overalls splattered with paint, with a ribbed tank top underneath. A pink strip of cloth was wrapped around her head, a jaunty bow tied on top. “It’s the middle of the day. I came over to see if you needed help.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face. Samson had told his aunt he was packing up his parent’s home. It was slow-going. “I must have been tired.”
“You’ve been tired a lot this past week.”
He sat up and tucked the blanket around himself better, though he was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. “How’s everything going with William?”
“Fine.” Aunt Belle waved the topic aside. She’d grown more confident in dealing with her CEO since the house party. So confident, William had announced his intention to step down. Aunt Belle didn’t seem fazed by that decision, so Samson wasn’t either.
“Did you want to talk about the campaign then?” They’d aired his last Matchmaker date with the young woman Aunt Belle had picked out for him. After edits, the meetup had looked even better.
“Oh, I think we should press pause on the campaign. You had a miserable date, you had lessons, you had a great date. That narrative arc is simple, and complete.”
He still had one contracted shoot with Rhi, but he supposed that was over. “Cool.” Cool, cool, cool, cool. His job was done. Now he had endless days ahead of him.
Belle interrupted his melodramatic thoughts. “What’s going on, Samson? They told me you pulled out of the interview with Helena. That was a nice opportunity for exposure.”
He rested against his headboard. “I know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t do it.”
He hadn’t been able to stand the thought of sitting across from Rhi, separated by Helena and miles of distrust. He’d done it once before with her angry at him and that had been bad enough. He couldn’t do it now, with her livid at him, thinking he’d betrayed her.
And he couldn’t do it when he also felt a little angry with her. For turning on him, on them, so easily.
“That’s fine. We do only the things we’re capable of doing.” Aunt Belle’s tone was very gentle. “You’ve been so depressed lately, Samson. It hurts me to see it. I thought it might help you, coming over here, but I don’t think it has.”
“I haven’t really gotten far.” He’d only sorted his uncle’s records