Page 68 of Tempt

“No.” It’s a small word, mouthed by a small person. I should never have voiced that fear out loud. It was probably hurtful, even if he brushes it off, and I know better. Jealousy can bubble in the most unexpected, illogical ways, and needs to be dealt with logically. Snuffed out, given no oxygen.

Sam frowns. “I think I should tell you something. It’s about my childhood, and it’s not an excuse for anything, so I don’t ever bring it up. But it’s time you know. I would never, ever violate the trust you put in me, because I’m a product of exactly that kind of violation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Luke and I don’t look alike. I’m dark, he’s light. He’s heavier set than I am. He had freckles as a kid, and I tanned easily.”

“What are you saying?”

His jaw flexes. “Neither of us look like our father, either.”

“Oh, Sam.”

He stalks away from the painting and throws himself onto the couch. “How much do you know about my family?”

I shake my head as I follow him. I perch close, but not too close. I’m here, but I don’t know what I’ve done, opening this can of worms. I don’t know if he needs space. “Not much. I know your parents are wealthy.”

He nods, his mouth twisting hard into a grimace. “The thing about dynastic wealth is that you need heirs. Thirty-five years ago, my father made a deal with the devil when he turned a blind eye to my mother’s first pregnancy. He convinced himself it was something he could live with.”

“Luke.”

Another nod. “It turned out, it wasn’t the first pregnancy that destroyed our cozy family unit. It was the second. When I came out looking exactly like his best friend, and nothing like my brother. He never forgave me for that.”

“That’s fucked up.” I blurt out my reaction. “Sam, that’s not fair.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.” He gestures around. “It’s why, when I ruined our business, they were not inclined to help us out. It’s why you will likely never meet them. We don’t have a relationship.”

“Not even your mother?” I can’t imagine. And I feel horribly inadequate in supporting him through this.

He groans and makes another face. “So you can see why I’m so attached to Grace. It’s not love, not like that. It’s that she’s the only person who has ever loved me as a family member.”

No. I’m crying now, wet, helpless drops sliding down my face.

He smiles at me. “Until you. And this…what we have…it’s even better.”

I throw myself at him, the lingering rope marks on my torso tender reminders of just how much I love and trust him.

He should be able to trust me, too.

On Monday,when Sam goes to work, I go to the Waterfront Centre and find Grace. I knock at the door of her studio, and it takes a minute for her to open the door.

“Hazel!” She looks surprised, but she steps back and gestures for me to enter.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

“No, not at all. I love company.” She gestures at the space. “Can I give you a quick tour? This is my sculpture work, here, but today I’m trying to paint. It’s not going that well.”

“I think it’s all amazing,” I promise her. “Listen, this is a bit awkward… but I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For thinking Sam was maybe in love with you.” I wince. It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.

Her face softens. “I wish. And no, not because I’m in love with him. I’m hopelessly in love with his brother. But Sam is…he’s done the work. He’s a good catch.” She tilts her head to the side. “Why did you want to tell me that?”

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