critical articles and reviews.
FirstSamhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2008
www.samhainpublishing.com
Stay With Me
Maya Banks
Dedication
To Jennifer who is every bit as nitpicky as I am, a fact I am extremely grateful for. This wouldn’t
have a chance of being near as good without you.
Chapter One
They weren’t coming.
Catherine Cullen-Wellesley dropped her gaze to the rumpled table napkin in her hand and
swallowed against the lump in her throat. Tears burned her lids, and she blinked rapidly to dispel
the liquid threat.
Beside her, the waiter hovered, asking for the fourth time in the last hour if he could get her
anything. No, not unless he could hand-deliver her husbands.
She waved the young man away and brushed defiantly at the corner of her eye. Her trembling
lips betrayed her, though.
How could they have forgotten their anniversary? Again.
She checked her watch and winced as she realized they were an hour and a half late for their
reservation. No, not late. Absent. Just like they’d been absent from every other date she’d
arranged in the past several months.
Each time they promised to be there, swore they’d make it up to her, and each time she was left
to wallow in her misery.
But tonight…tonight was special. Her palm smoothed over her still-flat abdomen, and a sad
smile curved her lips. She was going to tell them on the night of their fifth wedding anniversary
that she was pregnant.
Only now she was stuck alone with no one to share the news with.
Alone. It amazed her that even though she was in a relationship with two men, she’d never felt
more alone in her life. At a time when she wanted to feel so much joy, her heart ached with
sadness. How could she rejoice in her pregnancy, at impending parenthood, when she couldn’t
even be sure that her baby would have a father to rely on?
Desolation clogged her throat and tightened her airway. She couldn’t breathe around the
growing knot. When had she lost hope? Looking back, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d
felt any.
Placing her palms down on the table, she bolted upward. She motioned impatiently for the
waiter to bring her the check. When he presented it to her, the sole item on the receipt a glass of
wine she hadn’t drunk because of her pregnancy, she fumbled in her purse for a few bills and
dropped them on the table.
She hurried for the door where the maitre d’ snapped to attention.
“Shall I summon a cab for you, Mrs. Wellesley?” the older man asked.
She smiled wanly. “Yes, please.”
Compassion shone in his eyes before he turned away. She hated that look. Hated the way it
made her feel. Forgotten. Negligible.
A moment later, the doorman escorted her into a waiting taxi and shut the door behind her. She
supplied the address to the driver in a shaky voice then sank back against the seat.
***
“This is a goddamn mess,” Logan Wellesley said as he threw his cell phone across his office.
After hours of playing phone tag and one botched conference call, nothing had been solved.
Rhys Cullen made a grim sound of agreement from the doorway. “The question is, what are we
going to do about it?”
Logan eyed his partner and shoved his hands deep into his slacks pockets. He turned to stare
over the glittering Manhattan skyline, anger and frustration pounding his temples.
He turned back to Rhys. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to get on a goddamn
plane and fix it.”
Rhys nodded. “You taking Kingston or Montford?”
Logan sighed. Catherine wasn’t going to like it. Hell, he didn’t like it. But she’d understand. She
always did.
“I’ll take San Francisco. You fly to Atlanta and pin down Montford. You shove those plans in
his face. Once he sees them, there’s no way he can turn down our proposal. I’ll do the same with
Kingston. I’m not going to let a year’s worth of planning go down the toilet. We’ve got too much
time and money riding on this.”
Rhys stepped further into Logan’s office as Logan punched the call button for his personal
assistant. In a few moments, Paige Stanton made a punctual appearance. He was really going to
have to increase her salary. Having to work well into the night was becoming increasingly
habitual for her.
“Yes, sir?” she said primly.
“Call our pilot and have him ready to depart within the hour. I’ll be traveling to San Francisco.
Then I need you to book the first available flight to Atlanta for Rhys.”