She takes a deep breath. “Okay. Yes. I’ll do it.”
“You’re sure?” Dad’s giving her one last chance to back out.
“I’m sure.” Her voice is steady now. “I want this. The job, the life here. All of it.”
“Good.” Dad moves around the table and kisses the top of her head. “Call your boss. We’ll give you privacy.”
We file out of the dining room, leaving her alone with her phone and the decision that’s about to change everything.
In the hallway, Kai pumps his fist. “She’s staying.”
“She’s binding herself to us,” I correct. “Financially. Professionally. Completely.”
“Same thing.” Kai’s grinning. “This is perfect.”
Dad’s expression is more measured. “Donovan’s right. She just tied her entire life to this family. Her income, her career trajectory, her living situation—all of it depends on us now.”
“You think she realizes that?” I ask.
“She will.” Dad glances back toward the dining room. “Hopefully she doesn’t regret it.”
“She won’t.” Kai’s confidence is absolute. “She wants this as much as we do.”
I’m not so sure. But I keep that thought to myself.
We head to Dad’s office to draft the employment paperwork. The offer needs to be legitimate with actual job responsibilities, clear expectations, and everything above board in case anyone ever looks too closely at our operations.
Through the windows, I can see snow still falling. The blizzard that trapped Samantha here shows no signs of letting up. Even if she wanted to leave now, she couldn’t.
But after this, she won’t want to leave at all.
We’re halfway through the contract when Samantha appears in the doorway. “I did it,” she says. “I quit.”
“How did it go?” Dad asks.
“Badly.” She laughs, but it sounds strained. “David threatened to blacklist me in the industry. Said I was making a huge mistake. Told me I’d come crawling back within a month.”
“Will you?” I watch her face carefully.
“No.” Her voice is firm. “I’m done with that life. I want to be here.”
“Good.” Dad gestures to the chair across from his desk. “Sit. We need to go over your contract.”
16
SAMANTHA
Two weeks into December,and I’ve stopped recognizing my own life.
Mornings start in Grant’s bed, or sometimes Donovan’s, occasionally Kai’s.
I spend my days working on actual projects. Real work. The tech acquisition needs a complete brand overhaul, and I’m three presentations deep into consumer research. The retail company Grant’s buying needs a social media strategy that doesn’t make people want to throw their phones into traffic.
I’m good at this. Better than I was at my old job, where I spent half my time managing David’s ego instead of doing actual marketing.
Evenings are dinner with all three of them. Conversations that range from business strategy to ridiculous debates about whetherDie Hardis a Christmas movie. Kai insists it is. Donovan says he’s an idiot. Grant just pours more wine and watches us argue.
Nights are spent tangled together in ways that still make me blush when I think about them during daylight hours.
