Chapter 3
When I finally pulled up to the terminal, I spotted a familiar suitcase. Standing next to it was a woman who looked cold with high-class elegance.
I hurried over. "Hello, are you Mr. Reed—"
My words were cut short as she slapped me across the face. In that instant, the mark on my right cheek flared hot and red. Pain and numbness washed over me, and my ears rang.
She snapped, "Samuel told you to be here in 30 minutes. You kept me waiting for ten. You're wasting my time."
I remembered. The woman in front of me was Vivian Wynn.
Her beautiful lips now felt like the barrel of a gun, firing words at me without mercy. She looked at me with daggers in her eyes, as if she wanted to wipe me off the map.
"Samuel's standards must be slipping," she spat. "I can't believe he'd hire someone like you as an assistant."
In all my years with Samuel, I'd seen every kind of difficult client there was.
Some got handsy after a few drinks.
Some couldn't take it out on Samuel when deals fell through, so they took it out on me instead.
Once, I was even kidnapped by a competitor and dumped onto a stretch of coral out at sea.
Through it all, Samuel always showed up in time. He was the light that pulled me out of the dark.
He would call me stupid and a burden that was holding him back. But then he'd turn around and break the legs of the people who hurt me or make them bankrupt.
He protected me, yet treated me like dead weight.
Vivian's slap had been brutal. My ears were ringing, the world was spinning, and black spots danced before my eyes.
Then, Samuel stepped out of the terminal. "What's going on?"
To my surprise, Vivian's face crumpled. She clung to his arm, suddenly the victim. "Samuel, it hurts."
She opened her palm for him to see, acting like the one who'd been wronged.
Samuel's gaze shifted to me, his eyes flickering over my swollen cheek for a split second. Then, he took Vivian's hand with agonizing tenderness, blowing on it softly. "Let me kiss it better. Does it still hurt?"
"Mr. Reed, I'm so sorry. The traffic was—" I tried to explain through the pain. I had sped down the highway just to make it here, nearly crashing into a barrier and wrecking the car and myself along with it.
But Samuel cut me off with a glare. "Shut it," he barked. "A mistake is a mistake. Stand there and reflect on it."
I was stunned.
Before I could react, Vivian gave me a sharp shove, and I stumbled, my knees hitting the hard pavement with a sickening thud.
"You can't even handle a simple pickup," Samuel spat. "What good are you? Get out of my sight."
"Samuel, don't be like that." Vivian crouched down as if to help me, her hand wrapping around my arm. But her grip tightened, her sharp nails dug into my skin, nearly drawing blood.
"Isn't Claire your right-hand assistant? I've just come back, and everything feels unfamiliar. It'd be nice to have her with me." She looked straight at me, her back to Samuel, amusement flickering in her eyes.
*****
Vivian was exhausted after her ten-hour flight, so I dropped her off at her hotel to rest.
On the way back to the office, Samuel sat in the passenger seat. His hand rested on my thigh.
When he touched my bruised knee, the pain was so sharp my face contorted into a knot. "Now that Vivian's back, you'd better know your place. If you upset her, you won't like the consequences."
I couldn't tell if he was warning me or just teasing me like a friend.
He added, "The other women are just flings. But Vivian is my fiancée, the future Mrs. Reed. So, be a good girl and stay in line."
And what about me? With the five-year deadline looming, I wanted so badly to ask.
But the words got stuck in my throat. My eyes stung as tears welled up.
That so-called five-year promise to make Samuel fall for me was nothing more than a wish I made on my own.
From the very beginning, he had made my place clear. I was his mistress, the on-call lover, the one he used to pass the time or vent his frustrations.
I was nothing else to him. So what was I even hoping for?