“I –” I began hesitantly.
Sam interrupted me again and when he did, his voice wasn’t harsh, it was abrasive.
“Like, say, that piece of shit you married and the piece of shit he was bangin’ callin’ a hit on you?”
Oh God!
How did he find out about that?
And further, how did I forget to tell him that?
“They didn’t get that far,” I whispered then jumped and moved back, taking the chair with me as I watched his body move with uncontrolled rage, his arm cut through the air on a vicious sidearm slice and his phone went flying into the cushions of the couch with such strength it rebounded right out and clattered to the tiled floor.
Then he turned back to me.
“You got five million dollars outta that gig for whatever reason that motherfucker took out a policy on himself while he was plannin’ on whackin’ you. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you were in Como, that’s why you’re dressin’ like a fuckin’ socialite and spendin’ five hundred dollars on a fuckin’ robe, for fuck’s sake.”
My breath was now coming quickly just as my heart was beating fast, too fast, dangerous fast and, stupidly, my mind took that moment to remind me that I really, really shouldn’t have bought that robe with Luci.
“How do you know all this?” I asked quietly, my voice trembling.
“Tilda?” he shot back and my heart started beating faster. I didn’t answer but the answer must have been on my face because he continued. “Yeah,” he ground out. “She posted that shit somewhere, who the fuck knows where, but it spread like that shit always fuckin’ spreads and it went where it always fuckin’ goes and my agent got a call from a reporter that they were breakin’ the story that I was on vacation with an ex-administrative assistant, current millionaire who came into her new fortune because her husband, who took a shotgun blast to the head, was plotting to make her dead and his alternate piece of ass was currently out on bond, awaiting trial for conspiracy to commit murder and they wanted to know if you or me wanted to make a comment.”
Oh.
My.
God!
Ohmigod!
I couldn’t… this wasn’t… I couldn’t wrap my head around this. Any of it.
I never thought I’d ever be asked for a comment on anything.
And…
Ohmigod!
If this stuff was spreading and someone was going to write an article about us, my friends and family would find out!
“None of my friends or family knows about us,” I blurted.
“Who the fuck cares?” Sam roared and I pushed back, feeling chair, I scurried around it and kept retreating until I hit the wall of windows that faced the sea and only then did I realize I was shaking from head-to-toe.
Sam’s eyes never left me but they were working as was the muscle jumping in his cheek, his jaw hard, his fury filling the room.
Then he said in a carefully restrained voice that even sounded like it took effort to achieve, “Pissed at you, Kia, seriously fuckin’ pissed but I’m not gonna hurt you.”
I didn’t reply.
“How could you keep this from me?” he changed the subject to ask.
I kept quiet and kept shaking and kept my eyes glued to him.
Sam went back to the other subject and reminded me, “I’m not him.”
I nodded but kept quiet, shaking and my eyes didn’t move.
Sam held my gaze.
Then he started talking again.
“You know me, you knew me before you met me, you gotta know that nearly everyone I fuck is laid out for the world to see. Most of the time, they aren’t interesting except, say, when one of them has a murdered husband who was plotting with his side bitch to whack her and she comes out a millionaire. Now that shit’s gonna be all over the fuckin’ place and you fuckin’ internet stalked me, sweetheart, you knew it would and you did not give me the head’s up.”
“I –” I began but he cut me off again.
“Regardless of this media shit, it’s kinda important to know the woman I’m bangin’ has a hit out on her.”
I was beginning not to like the way he was talking to me, especially how he was referring to me.
Like.
At all.
Including the fact he called me “sweetheart” only when he was pissed at me.
“It didn’t get that far,” I repeated.
“You’re wrong,” he fired back and my heart and breath stopped again just as I felt my lips part. “Your friend Ozzie?” he asked, I nodded and he went on. “Keepin’ you protected and when I say that, he was doin’ it in more ways than givin’ you peace of mind by not sharin’ that the hit was called, it was paid for and once done, there is no way to get in touch with whoever the fuck they hired in order to call it off.”
My hands clenched into fists as pure fear saturated my system.