Staying On Top(36)
When neither of us offered a negative or affirmative response, she crossed her arms, stuck out her hip, and fixed Sam with a look that I swear made him shift to cover his balls.
“My family has a lot of respect in this city, and we’ve been consistently aboveboard with all of our business dealings. I run a successful charity involving orphans. If helping you and your surly little friend here fucks that up, I am not going to be happy.”
Sam sighed. “Trust me, Mari. No one wants you to be unhappy, least of all anyone who has ever seen it happen—which includes me. I’ve had a small issue in my personal life that Blair is helping me rectify, but we’re not doing anything illegal or anything that could affect your family in any way. Right, Blair?”
It was true that no harm would come to Marija or her family’s reputation by us being here, but the image of my father as an international force needed to be maintained. “I’m sure everything will work out fine. Really.”
I left enough of an ambiguous trail in the words to make Marija squint her eyes and Sam roll his, but she didn’t stop us this time when we started up the stairs.
A maid waited at the top, a silent woman who probably didn’t speak much English, and she showed us to a pair of guest rooms connected by an all-white bathroom. Even the fluffy towels were white. And monogrammed. It was like Texas in there.
“You want the girly room, or does that offend your feminist sensibilities as badly as my trying to carry your bag did?” Sam’s voice had a gravelly twist that was new to me, and the expression of annoyance in his eyes surprised me, too.
“Are you mad at me because I wouldn’t let you carry my bag?”
“No.” He ran a hand through his longish hair, which mussed it more than usual given the amount of grease that had built up during our travels. “I don’t know. It’s not just that, it’s . . . you scared me today, Blair. I got distracted when you kissed me, because holy hell, but now that you’re standing a good four feet away, all I feel is angry. You can’t go around risking your life like that. Like it doesn’t matter.”
Silence rolled in between us, thick and tangible like a dense fog. It swirled around our ankles, then rose to our calves, then higher until it seemed to strangle the life out of any words that might have any meaning. Despite what I’d said after our kiss, I wasn’t sure how I felt about Sam. I didn’t know if I liked him, if I was interested in more than his body or his money, and sharing parts of my real self with people didn’t come easily for me.
Or come at all.
“Sam, I’m really tired. Too tired for an existential discussion on the importance of one person’s life in the grand scheme of the world, so can I please take a shower and we can talk about this in the morning?”
“Sure. But you and I both know we won’t talk about this in the morning.”
He gave me a small smile, one that might mean he’d forgiven my rash behavior on the bus and my inability to even attempt an emotional connection with him, or it could mean nothing at all.
“Thank you.”
The room he’d given me had a huge white canopied bed with piles and piles of gold and purple blankets and pillows. It looked like heaven, like something the Egyptian gods had imagined during their more decadent musings, and I forgot all about fighting with Sam.
Even though the bathroom reminded me of a space fit for a mental hospital, the shower felt amazing. The scalding water turned my skin pink. Days of dirt washed off me and swirled down the drain, and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner were foreign and smelled delicious. There was even a razor, which I used to shave my legs, as well as other parts of me that wouldn’t need the attention had the thought of sleeping with Sam not lodged in my brain.
I dug toothpaste and my toothbrush out of my backpack, tugging the giant white towel tighter around my chest and rubbing a circle of steam off the mirror. My reflection appeared leaps and bounds better than it had before I’d stepped under the spray, and no doubt the stench coming off me had been eliminated, but the circles under my eyes left plenty to be desired.
The door swung open as I rinsed and spit, framing Sam’s impressive stature. He had on a pair of Florida Gators basketball shorts and nothing else. The tanned muscles rippling across his chest and down his stacked abs pooled heat in my stomach that dripped lower until it weakened my knees. My hormones were out of control.
He was just a mark. A sexy mark that was currently looking at me as though he was picturing me without the towel, who was making my breasts tingle and my head feel light with a mere look, but still. Just a mark.