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“I hope your father was at least supportive at the awards ceremony.”
“Actually, Dad left before then.”
She heard her mother curse. “Figures. I’m sorry, sweetie. I know the Addy was important to you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She sat on the bed next to the open suitcase and sighed. “Michael won it.”
“Again? I mean—”
“It’s okay. That was my reaction, too, when his name was announced. I ran into him afterward. The man is every bit as arrogant and self-righteous as he was seven years ago,” she muttered.
“And as good-looking?”
“That, too,” Sam admitted sourly.
“You said you saw him. Did you talk?”
“We have nothing to talk about,” Sam said, before adding, “But, yes, we did have a conversation. I bought him a drink, even, to celebrate his win.”
“Big of you,” Joy murmured.
“I thought so. Of course, I also plan to put it on my expense report.”
“Good for you.” Her mother chuckled, but when she spoke again, her tone had turned serious. “But was it all business, Sam?”
“There’s nothing between us but business, unless you count bad blood.” And way too much sexual attraction, she added silently.
“You know, I always liked Michael.”
“Liked him? You were practically the president of his fan club, Mom. It was embarrassing.”
Joy was unfazed. “He was the only young man you ever dated who wasn’t scared witless of your father.”
Okay, she had Sam there. “Well, he was far from perfect.” The toilet seat offenses and off-key singing weren’t the only things that came to mind. “Yet you thought I was making a mistake when I sent him back his ring rather than calling him again or flying out to California to work things out.”
“I still think you made a mistake.”
“How can you say that?” Sam all but shouted into the telephone. “You know why I did that. He wanted me to leave Sonya.”
“Be fair, Sam. What he really wanted was to be sure you left your father. Michael didn’t know that your sister had taken a serious turn for the worse.”
“Yes, but only because he wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell him. He jumped to the conclusion that I was staying in Manhattan and taking the job at Bradford to please Dad and gain his favor. Is it my fault that he got it wrong?”
“Did he?” Joy asked.
They talked about other things then, the dress Sam had worn to the awards dinner and the style she’d gone with for her hair. Hours after they hung up, though, Joy’s words had memories churning.
I need you, Samantha.
Both Michael and Randolph had said so. In her father’s case, though, it was the first time he’d used that exact combination of words. As Sam stalked about the quiet apartment that should have been Sonya’s, she remembered the occasion quite clearly.
One month prior to her wedding to Michael and three months to the day after Sonya’s car accident, he’d called Sam at the apartment she shared with Michael to ask her to meet him for lunch at Tavern on the Green. The invitation itself was unusual and should have given her an inkling that something unprecedented was about to take place. Still, the conversation that occurred in the time between their salads and their entrees had her wishing she’d followed her father’s lead and ordered a vodka martini.
Randolph wanted her to stay in Manhattan and join him at the Bradford Agency. It was the first time he’d voiced any sort of objection to her moving to California. Indeed, it was the first time he’d voiced his desire to have her work with him, though she’d majored in advertising with just that intention. After earning her degree, Sonya had become an account executive at Bradford. As for Sam, even two years after graduating from New York University, her father had claimed that no account executive positions were available. He suggested she continue as an office assistant until something opened up. Michael had been the one to mop up Sam’s tears and suggest not only a clean break from her father but a cross-country move.
“He doesn’t appreciate you, Sam. He doesn’t deserve you.” Michael’s words had been a balm to her wounded spirit.
So when Randolph had made his offer, Sam wanted to refuse it as too little too late. Her lips had even begun to form the words when he’d trumped every last one of her objections with his wild card.
I need you, Samantha.
There had been more to his argument than those four words, of course, as potent and ultimately persuasive as Sam found them to be. Actually, he’d laid out his case with surprising emotion for a man who rarely displayed much. He feared it would be months before Sonya was capable of returning to Bradford in any capacity. At that point she wasn’t capable of independent living much less being groomed to take over the agency as he’d long intended.
Absent the heir, he’d turned to the spare.
That had been Michael’s unflattering assessment when she discussed it with him later in the day. Randolph had asked Sam to take Sonya’s place. Temporarily. She’d agreed. She’d already asked Michael to postpone their wedding. She wanted Sonya to be her maid of honor. Despite their father’s obvious favoritism, the two had always been close.
The argument that ensued hadn’t been pleasant. Recalling it now made Sam ache all over again:
Michael had been incredulous at first.
“I’ve given my word to my new employer that I’ll start in six weeks. So have you.”
They’d both landed positions at the same agency, one of the biggest and most respected in Los Angeles.
“I know. You can go ahead without me. I’ll just have to hope that when I make the move, the opening will still be there.”
He had run his hands through his hair. In Michael’s expression she’d seen frustration, anger and, worst of all, hurt. “He’s using you, just like he’s used you as a glorified gopher for the past couple of years. Can’t you see that?”
“He needs me,” she told him.
“I need you, too. Don’t stay, Sam.”
She closed her eyes, holding back tears. Torn. That’s how she felt. She still wanted, needed to believe that her father would someday love her as unconditionally as he did Sonya. “I can’t leave right now. I’m sorry.”
“You can,” Michael insisted. For him, this issue had always been black-and-white. “Randolph doesn’t deserve your loyalty, Sam. He won’t return it.”
She ignored the comment, ignored the little voice that told her Michael was right. “It’s only for a little while, at most six months. The doctors say Sonya is making terrific progress.”
He snorted in disgust. “And once she’s as good as new, then what? He’ll have no need for you and you’ll be broken up into pieces again.”
“It’s not like that.”
Michael’s voice rose. “It’s exactly like that, and you know it.”
“Sonya needs me, too.”
“I like Sonya and I know it’s not her fault that she’s your father’s favorite, but when are you going to step out of her shadow and start living your own life?” he asked. When Sam said nothing, he reminded her unnecessarily,