“Then you did the right thing. Fight for her,” Rhett agrees.
“And claim her as yours,” Troy says with a look.
They board Troy’s private jet, and I drive around the lake to my chateau and girl. There is only one thing: She is not mine…yet.
The question is: Can and should I change that, and then close the media deal?
After a long run tocleanse my energy, I return home. As I work out in the gym, William drops by. He asks if he should return when I have more time, but I say now is fine.
As I pump iron, we discuss staff, the estate, and livestock details. There is nothing I need to note down, and we close the meeting casually.
As William turns to leave, he pauses. It seems out of character, so I stop what I’m doing. “Yes?” I ask, catching my breath.
“May I make a simple observation, Master Harry?”
“Of course.”
“Sir, your dedication to remaining single is commendable. Your dedication in maintaining the estate, family holdings and wealth, also courageous. As are your large-scale movie and media projects.”
“But?”
“Your parents would be proud, if I may say so.”
We exchange a look, and I bow my head. “Thank you, William. You can be straight with me. You do know that.”
“I would just like to say, after meeting many of your, how shall I put it…”
“Rides in the hay of the day.”
“Yes, perhaps. I would just like to point out, that I suspect, she…”
“William?”
“Sir, Miss Samantha would appear to be somewhat of a cut above the rest.”
He has a point, and I walk to the window. I look down at the lake, and I am quickly deep in thought.
“You’re not wrong, my friend, but there is a time and place for everything. I have a lot on.”
William walks close in his old-fashioned tweed jacket. He stands with his thick leather diary, and we look across the estate.
“Noted. There is, however, a small chance if the master is slow to, say, close, another gentleman may…”
We exchange a look, and I nod.
Suddenly, there is a noise across the gym, and with a bounce in her step, Samantha enters. We both look at her and pause.
“What?” she asks, confused.
“Nothing, how may I help?” I ask coldly, distracted.
“Dinner.”
William gives me a look, and I close my eyes. “Sorry, please, come in,” I say.
Samantha walks in, wearing her skin-tight, black yoga clothes. “Sorry about the clothing, working out, you know. So, what would you like to eat?”
I look down at her. She is red-cheeked from working out and covered with a light film of sweat. I want to eat her, and I want to lick every surface of her. Inside and out.
