“I didn’t speak to my family for years. Like your mom, both of my parents were controlling when I was growing up. When I was caught making out with a girl on my soccer team, they went into overdrive.” Sam leaned her head back against the pillow as the memories returned to her. “So, I had to get out. I enlisted behind their backs and was on a bus to Texas for bootcamp as soon as I turned eighteen. They cut me out because of it for almost ten years. They moved, and I didn’t even know their new address. My mom donated all my things to Goodwill, although my sister managed to save a few items.”
“That sounds crazy.”
“My parents were—are—very traditional. Girls are expected to act and dress a certain way, as well as do certain things. The great life plan was to go to college, become a doctor or a lawyer, and get married as soon as I started my career. Then probably quit that career I worked so hard at so I could have kids. Bonus points if my parents got to pick my husband. After the incident with my teammate, they kept pushing me toward boys from the community, enrolling me in social groups and activities in the hope that it would help me find a nice young Indian man to marry by the time I graduated high school. They even made me take Hindi classes. My family doesn’t even speak Hindi, but my parents thought it would improve my chances of finding a husband.”
“Wow. That’s both so different and not so different from how I grew up. My mom was always pushing me to do cotillion and stuff like that so I would meet ‘nice’ boys. After Parker went off the rails and Scarlett kept putting off her wedding to her ex-fiancé, my mom became so paranoid that I might not be married to a man by thirty. Twenty-five, preferably.”
“Moms, right?”
With a sigh, Bianca flung herself down into Sam’s arms, nuzzling against her chest. “I don’t want to think about them right now. I’d rather think about what we just did a few minutes ago.”
“Think?” Sam brushed Bianca’s hair behind her shoulder, revealing those rosy nipples once again. “Why just think?”
Bianca leaned in close, her lips less than an inch from Sam’s. “Well, there is something I’m insatiably curious about.”
“What’s that?”
Bianca’s hand meandered down Sam’s stomach, curious fingers making their way toward the peak of her thighs. “What does my bodyguard’s pussy taste like?”
“What’s stopping you from finding out?”
Sam barely caught a glimpse of the smile spreading on Bianca’s lips before she dove for the hidden treasure between her bodyguard’s thighs. She lay back, letting herself sink into the bed, preparing herself to truly relax for the first time in far too long…
Then, Bianca’s phone went off.
“Crap!” Her blonde curls popped up from between Sam’s legs. “It’s my mom. She has her own ringtone.”
“So what? Ignore her.”
“I wish I could.” Bianca bounced off her bed and took off down the hallway, grabbing her phone from where she’d left it on the couch. “If I don’t answer,” she called back down to the bedroom, “she’ll waltz right in like you did. You want her finding us in bed together?”
Sam stifled a groan. She couldn’t think of anything worse. Please let this be quick. The reminder of work was causing all the tension she’d spent the last hour releasing to return.
Bianca reappeared in the bedroom and answered the call.
“Oh, thank God.” Vivianne’s shrill voice was as clear as if she were on speakerphone. It was like a bucket of ice water over Sam’s body. “You’re okay. Where are you right now? Where’s your bodyguard?”
“Mom! Calm down.” Bianca was already grabbing a fresh pair of clothes to throw over her head. “What’s going on? I’m at home. Sam… she’s with me. We were just debrie—”
“Both of you come up here right now. There’s been a break-in.”
* * *
“I can’t believe this is happening to my family,” Vivianne wailed.
She paced between the two couches in the penthouse’s main living room. Every so often, she stopped to cradle one of her daughters’ faces before resuming her pacing. She ignored Julia and Isabel, who had been dragged up here by Parker and Scarlett, along with Sam and the others in her team who were in the room. The rest were patrolling the floor below and the hallway outside where Phillip Black was speaking to the police.
Sam wished he were in here with them. Because she was certain he’d be able to give a more coherent account of what had happened than Vivianne was. ‘Hysterical’ wasn’t a word Sam liked to use, but it was what came to mind as she approached her client.
“Mrs. Black.” Sam offered a reassuring touch to her shoulder. It didn’t work. Vivianne was so worked up by whatever had happened that her every word was punctuated with half of a sob. “Have a seat and tell us all what happened. In your own words.”
“Yes, Mom,” Scarlett said. “Why don’t you sit down here?”
Scarlett stood on the other side of Vivianne, directing her toward the empty space next to Bianca, who had selected a heavy sweatshirt to wear with her pajama bottoms. Even in the worst-case scenario, their mother would have no idea what her youngest had just been up to.
“Tell us what’s happened. We need to know, especially if it’s going to affect us.” Scarlett gestured to Parker and Julia on the other couch before motioning to Bianca, too. “What in the world is going on?”
“I…” Vivianne clasped her hand over her heart. “I’d just come home from having dinner with Paula Finch and her lovely daughter, Fiona.” She turned to Bianca beside her. “You know the one, sweetheart. She helped design your father’s waiting room in his office. Excellent taste, that woman, although—”