Zurlo, Michele - Two Masters for Samantha [Awakenings 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (40 page)

“I can’t, Elle. I’m knee deep in paint.” The Keyes agency wanted her to leave the following Tuesday to check out a new resort in
Idaho
. Sam didn’t see it as a viable option, but she was looking forward to watching the sun rise and set there.

She sat down at the table in her tiny kitchenette and closed her eyes as a wave of longing washed through her system. Thinking about the sunrise had her thinking that it was nearly time for Stefano’s daily sex call. She missed the sound of his voice and the way Alexei’s hands felt as they moved across her skin. She missed waking up sandwiched between their firm, cuddly bodies. She missed the safety, the warmth, the security, and the way her soul felt utterly at peace when she was with them.

Ellen’s husky laugh sounded on the other end. “They inspired you that much, did they?”

Samantha bristled. The Morozov brothers hadn’t provided inspiration. The sunrise in her head that was slowly taking shape on canvas was the one she watched with Stefano. She wanted to communicate not only the richness and beauty of the natural event, but the simple affection that had developed between them. It would contain none of the complications sure to arise when her friends and family found out she was falling for two men. They might be indulgent about fulfilling fantasies of having sex with two men, but they wouldn’t be singing the same song when it came time to reveal that she wanted them both in her life.

She could imagine the conversation with her parents in vivid detail. Her father, always a reasonable man, would stare at her as if he’d never seen her before. His hazel eyes would darken to brown, and he wouldn’t have to say anything else. His expression alone would let her know how much she’d disappointed him this time.

Her mother wouldn’t be so quiet. The recriminating questions would come, rolling from her tongue without waiting for answers. Samantha used to feel sorry for Jonas when Alyssa had done this to him every time he made a major decision with which she found fault. Sabrina might not have berated Jonas for leaving her that one time, but there hadn’t been a need. Alyssa had more than addressed that method of breaking him down. Of course, Jonas had just scowled and left the room each time their mother had started in on him.

Samantha wasn’t like that. The optimist in her wouldn’t allow her to leave until she talked some sense into her parents, and her desperate need for acceptance and approval would keep her there until she made them understand what Alexei and Stefano meant to her.

“Hello? Sam?” Ellen’s questions echoed inside Samantha’s head.

“I’m here, Ellen. Listen, I need to finish this painting before I leave on my next job.”

Ellen must have heard the panic that underlined the determination in Samantha’s voice. “Okay, honey, I’ll leave you alone after you answer one question.”

Sam closed her eyes. Ellen’s questions were always too perceptive.

“Have you called the gallery owner that Sabrina told you to call?”

That wasn’t the question she expected. Sam’s eyes popped open. “Why would I do that?”

A stream of air issued from Ellen’s end. “Sammy, Sabrina went through a lot of trouble to get you heard. She gave you that number more than a month ago.”

Samantha sighed. Stefano had said pretty much the same thing. “Ellen, I don’t want a pity showing.”

“You won’t get one, either.” Ellen’s tone gentled. “Sabrina’s name gets the coordinator to take your call, Sammy. The rest is up to you. I’m starting to think you aren’t serious about your art. Why else would you pass up this opportunity?”

Ellen’s method of delivering guilt was far more effective because of what Stefano had said.

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll call.”

“Right now.”

Calling right then turned out to not matter. The gallery owner, Treva Andreas, wasn’t in her office. The receptionist assured Sam that she’d pass along the message.

Samantha pushed that dead-end to the back of her mind. She knew “out-of-office” meant that the owner didn’t want to be bothered by Sam’s plea for an appointment. Instead, she turned her mind to her work and lost herself in the creative process. After a long time, she became aware of a percussion rhythm that didn’t sync with what was coming from her headphones.

She tapped the pause button and listened for a minute, rubbing eyes that had gone bleary from the hours of concentration. The sound repeated. Someone was knocking at her door. Damn Ellen was probably acting like a mother hen again. If she brought dinner, Sam might overlook Ellen’s overbearing manner this time.

Who was she kidding? She always overlooked Ellen’s overbearing manner.

Now she knew why. It was the submissive response to a powerful Dom.

Sam whipped open the door and, without looking at her visitor, headed back to the part of her apartment she used for a studio. Most people called it a living room. “I called her, okay? Stop hounding me and tell me you brought something to eat.”

The door closed with a soft click. “I didn’t bring anything to eat, but we can order out. I haven’t had dinner, either.”

Samantha whirled at the masculine response, finally looking at her guest. He wore a suit and tie, managing to look fresh even though she knew he had spent at least four hours on a plane. He smiled at her shock, but her heart had already stopped. “Lex!”

She flew across the room and leapt at him, not caring if she knocked him over and they ended up a heap on the floor. He caught her, hitching her higher to wrap her legs around his waist and enfolding his arms around her to hold her close as his lips devoured hers. At last, he broke the kiss and set her back on her feet.

She reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair. “You cut your hair.”

“Stef did, too.”

Samantha frowned. She liked it longer. It was thick and black and she liked the way it felt tickling across her stomach. Still, it wasn’t her call. He wouldn’t presume to tell her how to wear her hair. She would afford him the same courtesy.

“Who’s bugging you, Samantha? Do you want me to take care of it for you?”

 
She shook her head. “I can handle Ellen. What are you doing here?” Had he missed her as much as she missed him?

“A couple of reasons.”

The front door opened into a short hallway next to the kitchen. Alexei pushed past Samantha, heading deeper into her apartment. Dread curled in her stomach, filling the place that no longer wanted food. She didn’t know how upset he would be to find out about her art. She had shared this part of herself with Stefano, but she had never once mentioned it to Alexei. Everything in his life was ordered and planned. Sam was messy and impulsive. Part of her soul would wither if he laughed at her work.

She found him standing on a drop cloth, staring at the unfinished painting of the sunrise she had shared with Stefano. She picked at flecks of paint on her hands as he moved to the far corner of the room where her canvases were stacked. She lost her composure as rifled through them, pulling out the ones that caught his interest and holding them up for inspection.

“Are you looking for something specific?”

He returned the painting he had been holding. “I guess I’m looking for the reason you felt you could share this with Stef and not with me.”

Sam flinched as if he’d slapped her, and not in a good way. “It never came up.”

He muttered under his breath, repeating her words. “You told me about all these places you visited and about a ton of places you want to see, but you never once mentioned that the thing you wanted to see there the most was the sun rise and set.”

“Lex, please don’t be mad.”

It wasn’t anger that put shadows in his deep blue eyes. Samantha swallowed guilt.

“Let’s get you fed, Samantha. You look like you’ve barely eaten or slept since I last saw you.”

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a nearby Thai place. He ordered without asking what she wanted. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he turned to Sam, a hardness coating his features. “They said it’ll take about forty-five minutes.”

She opened her mouth to apologize for hurting him, to assure him she hadn’t intended for him to find out like this. That wasn’t what came out. “How did you know who to call around here for Thai food?” They had discussed her love of Asian cuisine, so the fact he knew what she liked wasn’t surprising.

“I’m from
Michigan
, remember? My father still lives in
West Bloomfield
. Maybe I didn’t grow up Downriver, but I’m not unfamiliar with the area. Morozov Industries has an office in
Trenton
and a factory in
Southgate
.”

Neither
Trenton
nor
Southgate
were far from where her
Wyandotte
apartment was located.

Alexei took off his jacket and handed it to her. Samantha hung it in the hall closet and tried not to think about the fact that he was now looking through her photographs. She returned to the living room and leaned against the far wall to watch him and wonder what he was thinking. A comment Stefano made surfaced, bringing with it a renewed churning in her empty stomach.

He had said Alexei was knowledgeable about art. What if he didn’t like what he was seeing?

“Alexei, did you fly all the way here because you’re mad that I talked to Stefano about my art and not you?” She bit the ragged end of her fingernail.

“No.” He moved to the next bin holding her oversized photos. “I came because my asshole of a father wants me to meet his whore-of-the-month so she can audition for the role of step-monster.”

Samantha drew back at the bitterness in his voice. She knew Alexei’s mother had died over a decade ago. Nervousness made her a little less sensitive to his aggressive dislike of anyone who might try to replace his mother. “Is your father an asshole because he’s dating again now that your mother has passed? Hasn’t it been long enough, Lex?” She didn’t know what to make of his “whore-of-the-month” comment. “Or was he unfaithful to your mother?”

Alexei drew out one of her photographs. It showed a depressed cityscape with a bright, beautiful sunrise straining to be seen through the pollution billowing from a smokestack. “Most people who like to photograph or paint sunrises and sunsets don’t think to actually give them a setting, a purpose. I like this one. It conveys desperation and a hint of hope.”

That was exactly what Samantha had thought, but Alexei was the first person who had looked at her photographs to understand what she had been trying to do. Did it surprise her that a man who seemed to know her deepest, darkest needs could also see what was in her heart? Hell, yes. The men in her life who loved her—her father, her brother—didn’t understand her at all.

Lex set the photograph on the top of the stack and crossed the room. He lifted his hand and used his thumb to wipe away a tear Samantha hadn’t been aware she was crying. She sniffed and wiped its twin from her other cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Sam, don’t be sorry.”

He called her Sam. He
never
shortened her name.

He wrapped his arms around her, pushing her face into his neck. “It’s in my nature to push, to be demanding. I need you to remind me to slow down. I have the rest of my life to find out everything about you.”

Samantha let him hold her. It felt nice to be with him like this. She knew Stefano this way, not Alexei, and a large part of her needed this from Lex.

“Stefano told me about your art. We talked about where we see this thing between you and us going. He showed me your website.”

That was too much information to take in at once. The buzzer sounded, arresting any question before she could ask it. “That’s the food.”

Sam was glad he had cash on hand. She had nothing in her purse and her credit cards no longer worked.