Her emotions and how she dealt with them were Sam’s own problem, of course. But how could a billionaire like Xander Sterne possibly understand how she had to scrape the money together, basically by going without lunches all week herself, just to be able to pay for something so trivial as Daisy’s ballet lesson once a week? Something her daughter had talked of almost since she could walk and talk, and which Sam refused to disappoint her over.
Of course Malcolm, when Sam asked, had refused to contribute in the slightest to Daisy’s happiness, over and above the minimum childcare payment paid into Sam’s bank account once a month. An account set up in the name of Samantha Smith rather than her married name of Samantha Howard.
Her married name, along with the gifts and jewellery Malcolm had given her during their marriage, and any settlement she might have expected as Malcolm’s ex-wife, either in a lump sum or monthly payment, were all things Sam had been asked to give up in exchange for Malcolm agreeing to give her full custody of her beloved daughter. A price Sam had willingly paid. And would willingly pay again, if she had to.
Xander, a man who owned and ran successful businesses globally with his twin brother, couldn’t possibly understand how difficult it was for a single mother to even find a job, let alone one that necessarily fitted in with the hours Daisy spent at school. Waitressing at lunchtimes had been one of Sam’s only options since Daisy started school the previous September, and even that became a nightmare when the school holidays came around. As they invariably did.
That last problem was going to be solved in two weeks’ time, though, by her new job at Andy’s ballet studio. In the meantime, this two weeks of looking after Mr Sterne would allow her to pay her electricity and gas bills.
Even so, it was mainly out of gratitude to Andy that Sam was now on her way to spend two weeks in the home of a man she had only met once, and whom she wasn’t in the least comfortable being around. He hadn’t exactly been outright rude to her, but he hadn’t exactly been polite either.
So, was her new employer a nice man?
Quite honestly, she had no idea.
Oh, there was no doubting that he was fiercely masculine, with his wide and muscled shoulders, narrow waist and hips, and long legs. His hair was a tousled and overlong gold, and his eyes were a dark and piercing brown in his tanned and chiselled face; nose long and straight between sharply etched cheekbones, his mouth full and sensual, with the top lip fuller than the bottom above a square and determined jaw. As an indication of a sensual nature?
Well, probably not the latter for the past six weeks, since his car accident had resulted in a badly broken leg and basically kept him as being almost a recluse in his own apartment.
Although that obviously wouldn’t have prevented women from visiting him at home!
It was something Sam hadn’t thought of until now, but the bedroom exploits of billionaire Xander Sterne had been making the headlines in the newspapers and glossy magazines for more years than Sam cared to contemplate.
And the women photographed draped on his arm, at film festivals and other celebrity events, were always beautiful, always single, and always long-legged and oozing sex appeal.
‘Mummy?’ Daisy’s curious tone reminded Sam that she hadn’t yet answered her daughter.
She turned to give her daughter a beaming smile. ‘Mr Sterne is a very nice man, darling.’ She avoided so much as glancing in the direction of the chauffeur sitting in the front of the car—just in case she should happen to catch his sceptical gaze in the rear-view mirror as confirmation of her misgivings.
Because nice was hardly a word anyone would use to describe Xander. Dynamic. Arrogant. Lethally attractive. But nice? Not so much.