Or if I should forget him forever andwalk away, now.
12
HARRISON
Even if it felt good and comforting at the time, seeing Samantha in my mom’s and sister’s riding clothes, plus on my sister’s horse, was disturbing.
Playing the piano like Mom used to do also gets me thinking. About her, my family, and how much I still miss them all.
The next day, I stay in my apartment and work. All meals are delivered, and I likely have another cloud of depression. It’s workable, so I push through it. I must.
As I work on the now complex business model, I keep running my companies from afar.
I am also likely, and it may not be that healthy, hiding from the world.
Thinking about how much I miss my family and how they were all taken suddenly still gets me down at times.
Thank God, I always bounce back, but it’s heavy. I should probably talk to a shrink, but I’m not that kind of guy.
I am aboutto send Samantha a note, thanking her for dinner last night but also stating I will remain in my own quarters for the evening. To also ask her to arrange dinner at seven.
As I start to write the message, a chopper streaks low overhead. “Fuck,” I say unhappily.
I walk downstairs, sure we are not expecting anyone. As I descend the last section of the wide marble staircase, Samantha exits the kitchen, and we exchange a look.
I shake my head when the radio we always have around the lobby squawks.
“Sir?” William’s voice kicks in.
“Yes,” I say, lifting it.
“It would appear Miss Elizabeth Verhoven has decided to drop by.”
I hold the bridge of my nose. “Dear God.”
“It gets more, shall we say, complex.”
“Shoot,” I huff.
“Well, she and her pilot appear to have…”
“What?” I bark.
“Bags, Sir.”
Samantha and I share a look.
“Company?” Samantha asks as I cross my arms.
“Like hell.”
“Isn’t she that party heiress of the soap fortune?”
“Something like that,” I growl.
“Dinner for two then?” Samantha asks, hands now on her hips.
“Not if I can help it,” I say before inhaling. “But you may be right, there is a chance the woman will expect food and water.”
